It Never Stops

It seems like it never ends. I’m over here trying desperately to get my stuff together and bipolar disorder is over there conjuring up the opposite plan.  I begged my doc to give me the okay to dive back into work full time starting next week. I’m currently working 20 hrs.  I’m not doing swimmingly well, but I’m hanging there. I dutifully sat on my therapists couch on Monday and talked it all through.  I thought we had a brilliant plan. I was going to ask my podoc to write two work notes. One for a full return and one for increase to 30 hrs per week. I could then see how my week went and decide on Sunday what I thought was best for me. Now if you know me at all, you know I am going to give the full return status to HR no matter what. I’m the fanatic. It’s all or nothing.
What I neglected to consider was that she has worked with me for 10+ years and just might have learned a thing or two about me, and how I operate.  She told me 30 hours makes the most sense. Giving me 2 notes would put a lot of undo pressure on me to have to decide last minute.  So there it is 30 hrs per week for the remaining two weeks in January.  I told her I would just shut up and oblige. I could beat this to death in my head. Play it over and over til blood spills.
So, i’m showing up at work. Trying to get my workouts in. Keep the house somewhat clean. The note request was on Monday. Moving through the week, so unsure of myself. Writing to do lists with no real understanding of the tasks. Then Thursday morning comes. This is a “big” all important day. Lots to do and I need to work 8 full hours.  I was walking around my office lost within a 10 foot space.  The floor was moving under my feet. The box full of proposals I didn’t read was expanding. The To do list was blinking. My breath was shortening. The room was going black. I was sweating.  PANIC ATTACK.
Okay. Okay. What to do. Priority is to slow my breath.  In and out. Count 4. One more time.  I slumped in my office chair wanting to cry. But not. Luckily I had something stashed in my purse for emergencies and I think this qualified.  It was early. My office mate was not working. I had the ability to close my door and take a few moments. So I did.  Oh there is something else. Intrusive thoughts. I hate them. Bombarding me. Suggesting I should just take all my medications at once. Avoid this kinda thing, or anything, in the future.
I tell ya.  It just never stops. The battles in my mind. Bipolar disorder always nipping at my heels.  Some days it’s treacherous terrain. Some days, with some extra armor, it’s manageable.  Other days the grip is too much, too hard.  How I’m still here I don’t really know.  I just am. That too hasn’t stopped.

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