Bipolar Disorder and Unemployment

After some encouragement (thank you, friends!), I am back to writing. Hell it beats word puzzles, yucky paperwork, or freaking out about ... whatever.

I'm still unemployed and living in my parent's basement. (My mom dislikes that description because she thinks it sounds like she's relegated me to the cold, dank cellar.) So after nearly 9 months, I'm still unemployed with my bedroom in the my parent's heated and furnished lower level. The housing situation is explained by my being without a job. The unemployment - well, it's not from a lack of trying. Although I must say that the first 6-7 months involved getting a diagnosis of bipolar disorder, freaking out about my future, and then recovering from both these things.

Job hunting sucks under any circumstances. Add an unavailable spouse (due to her death), a dizzying relocation, and a lousy economy; thinks get wiggy. The diagnosis of bipolar disorder doesn't help, but it does mean I qualify for services at Vocational Rehabilitation due to a disability. (Great people, by the way, so keep this in mind should you or a loved one require their services.) The downside is that bipolar disorder is an "invisible disability" - typically best not shared with a potential employer. So a hiring preference or a reasonable accommodation is unlikely.

This week no fewer than three professionals told me I'm "doing the right things." I'm eating, sleeping, and exercising. I've got my resume and cover letters down to a science. I'm meeting people. I've been told to "network" (although in my experience, when strangers hear I'm out of work they respond with the equivalent of "good luck"). And I"m upgrading my skills in an attempt to make myself more "marketable." But still no job. This week in particular, I've felt discouraged.

Yes, I've enjoyed a few upsides. I sleep past 7:00 nearly every morning. I drink tea and search job listings in my pajamas or in an overstuffed chair at a local coffee shop. I decide the length and timing of my commute. I work at a pace that suits me. If, like today, my dad could use help shoveling snow or my mom could use help getting a box of books to the used bookstore, I am available at a moment's notice. Until recently I lived out of state for 20 years, so it's only fair that I lift a shovel or carry a box of books once in a while.

But it's amazing the hole in one's life without the presence of a job (retirees and stay-at-home parents excepted). Paid employment supplies not only a paycheck and an identity but also structure, purpose, a means of meeting and interacting with people, an opportunity to learn new skills, and of course all the things, services, or events that the paycheck can buy. Paid employment also supports the ego and offers a terrific distraction from other responsibilities. Best of all, paid employment greatly lessens the need to job hunt! Or am I crazy?

Walking in the rain helps ...

Tuesday evening I had an enjoyable discussion with a great friend. But the next morning, I awoke comparing our lives. Of course, by comparing her strengths and successes with my weaknesses and disappointments, I came up short.

After whining to myself a bit more about what I couldn’t do¹, I decided to take a walk in the rain. It was warm rain, after all. Not long outdoors before the tone of my internal monologue changed; I began to focus on the positives more than the negatives.²  I took a photo and, as I watched a gaggle of geese cross the path before me, found myself thinking how fortunate I am to be in nature rather than impeded by a silly old job.

As it happens, Wednesday is the evening of the bi-weekly NAMI meeting in my town. Next I watched a 6 minute Ted TV video in which Joshua Walters describes the benefits of “just enough” bipolar disorder.³ Saturday, I biked and bussed my way to yet another NAMI meeting. Sunday I found myself at a local coffee shop, where I struck up conversation with two men with motorcycles, at least one of whom is a veteran of the Vietnam Conflict.

When in a fog of self pity, I find it helpful to walk in the rain, whether that’s literal or a figurative walk with fellow human beings.

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¹ The medicine is making it very difficult to focus on reading or driving; It’s raining out, so commuting by bicycle is a drag; Without a job, I can’t get what I need or want out of life; and Blah, blah, blah.

²  I’m  walking in warm rain; it’s not cold rain, snow, or desert. Some people have to deal with the hassle of a wheelchair, and here I am with the easy fortune a leisurely stroll. Some women can’t talk a safe walk alone or even alongside a male person. And etc.

³ http://www.ted.com/talks/joshua_walters_on_being_just_crazy_enough.html

Bipolar Disorder: Variation on a theme and then some

Disorders

• ·      The most recent diagnosis – Bipolar Disorder – coupled with two psychiatric hospital stays (the first to get me stable enough to re-board the plane as I was relocating to my original home state; the second for identification of a diagnosis and to begin treatment) and preceded by three progressively bold delusional (manic) episodes, caught my attention.
• ·       A year ago, informed that ADD (Adult Attention Disorder without the hyperactive) applied to me, I set out to find out what that may mean for me without allowing a diagnosis to limit my dreams. I also grieved the loss of decades challenged by unidentified ADD.
• ·       For a decade or more, I have been treated for hypothyroidism. My strained thyroid was noticed when I gained 40 pounds in 4-6 weeks (normally I’m lean and my weight fluctuates by only 3-5 pounds) after my thyroid “burnt out” (an assumption shared by my M.D. at the time).
• ·       For several years I’ve also been treated medically for anxiety. Growing in seriousness to match an increase in adult responsibilities, anxiety has been with me for as long as I can remember. At the beginning, it accompanied significant events, happy and sad alike, but soon was associated with frightful events only. I’ve long associated anxiety with scary events, but I’m left to wonder how many potentially happy events from which I’ve self diverted and how I might remedy those situations.

Medications

• ·        I am loathe to take medications; natural remedies strike me as the logical choice. As mentioned, Bipolar Disorder caught my attention, so without hesitation I now take one medication to reduce mania, one to balance my mood, and a third that helps with anxiety, nausea, sleep, and pain. If Bipolar Disporder wasn’t identified and treated soon, alcohol abuse was looming as a conscious option of last resort, although I am a light drinker (my dad teases me for tossing a beer that I’ve nursed all day). For several months, I took an ADD medication that now is ceased. For a decade or so, I’ve taken thyroid hormone to keep me at a natural level. And I’ve taken various forms of anti-anxiety medications for several years; prior to that time, Vitamin B-12 (and later, B Complex) was identified accurately as a help. Dairy products are my lifelong means of self-medication (a glass of whole milk sits next to me as I write); the body knows, so recently I’ve added a healthy dose of Vitamin D to my daily supplements.

Bipolar Disorder: Two Differences

• ·         One difference, this time I find myself challenged with reading and writing; my concentration is challenged in a way I’ve never before experienced. I must say, I’m frightened as I search for reliable explanation(s). An old standby, voracious research, doesn’t seem an option for now. As mentioned, my ability to concentrate on written materials is hampered. Although I can organize my thoughts, albeit a bit more slowly than formerly, I am challenged in organizing the words that appear on the page.
• ·         A second difference I call “part of the humor of bipolar disorder.” This time one of the medications seems to slow down the pace at which I can talk, think, and act. In the past, mindfulness and other approaches recommended one task at a time. Something tells me to take seriously this message.

Fear of Conflict

I have a terrible fear of conflict.

Yeah, if only it were spiders. Those I could avoid and yet live my life. But by attempting to avoid conflict, I have sacrificed way too much of myself.

As a child, mainly I met expectations. I was a good daughter, sister, and student. Pleasing people offered rewards of good grades, a good reputation, and plenty of harmony. I had poor abilities in relating with peers, so I avoided them, tolerated unkindness, and did my best to perceive myself as superior.

As a young adult, I attended law school, thinking assertiveness would be in the curriculum. Instead during a course in trial practice, I found myself in the hospital with intravenous sugar water after suffering without food, sleep, or managing my life.

Next I found myself in a relationship with a generous, loving partner. We both offered more than we thought capable. We shared our strengths to ease the burden for the other. However, when dissatisfied, I capitulated, criticized, or attempted to change her mind or behavior. I ended up angry, resentful, and living a life that didn't suit me.

Sadly, it took her death for me make some changes. And the learning curve is quite big. Sometimes I'm proud of myself as I take baby steps to move forward. Sometimes I've overwhelmed by what is before me.