Sunday, January 14, 2007


I just finished my first solo week at my new job. The first day (Monday) was horrendous. I thought that I couldn't make it. I seriously doubted my ability to do the job. Fortunately, my boss was committed to seeing me succeed. I was surprised that I didn't get fired the first day. The second day was better. I was only awful. By the third day, I was feeling a little more comfortable with my duties and actually left work with a smile on my face. Thursday and Friday was met with soaring confidence. I actually believed that I could succeed and perform my job even in times of depression. That remains to be seen.

What had concerned me from the beginning was the stress level. Certain kinds of stress (it's different for each individual) are toxic to people with Bipolar Disorder. Almost three years ago, I was ordered by my psychiatrist to avoid any job that had a moderate to high level of stress. I was also advised to only work part-time. So, it was with some misgiving that I started this fulltime job. We'll see how well I can do.

I have learned, as someone who has BPD, that I am only able to do one thing at a time. Multi-tasking is beyond my abilities. Now, I am working a fulltime job, a part-time job, trying to blog, keeping up with emails and pursuing my photography interests (I sold another photo this last week). Oh, I almost forgot about church. I will probably have to cut back, so don't be surprised at the decreasing frequency of my blogs. It is what it is.

I did something this week that many women wish they could do. I actually forgot my birthday. It's not until Tuesday, but when a friend wished me a Happy Birthday, I was confused for a moment and I asked him, "Is today my birthday?" I told Teresa that I would probably have gone a long time before I realized that an important point in history had passed.

At 58, I sure hope that I'm way past middle age. Since I'm a Christian, I don't really have any desire to stay any longer in this world than I have to. Please understand. I am not suicidal, but I agree with what the apostle Paul said. "Therefore we are always confident and know that as long as we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord. We live by faith, not by sight. We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord. So we make it our goal to please Him, whether we are at home in the body or away from it (2 Corinthians 5:6-9)."

Do YOU believe it???

["I'm so low I could do a ten minute free-fall off the edge of a dime."]


Sonya said...

Thanks for getting us "uppers and downers" on line. The older I get the more I realize we are many.
Depression runs in my family, so why was I surprised to find myself in the same boat? "Get thee to a support group" was the advice given me. The next best thing may be an
avenue to vent on line.

two7s_clash said...

Hi Stormy-

Just found your blog after finally getting around to laborious task of typing your url from a Wall Street Journal clipping I just now found the energy to take from my brimming "to-do" bin. Phew.

I'm 27 and have been plagued with depression and intense depersonalization for the past 10 years. I've struggled with obsessive behavior and addictions as well, part in parcel.

I'm slowly realizing that railing against my sickness doesnt help, and I'm trying to figure out what it means to submit... and this would be to God I suppose. These entry fills me with the exhilaration of truth-hearing, but also such much dread.

I believe it. I agree. I've always known I wasn't meant for "this." "This," -- all of it -- doesn't feel right in a manner far beyond not feeling happy. Being alive is just... WRONG somehow.

Seeing your background, I'm sure you know of O'Connor's short story "The Enduring Chill." I quote

The old life in him was exhausted. He awaited the coming of new. It was then that he felt the beginning of a chill, a chill so peculiar, so light, that it was like a warm ripple across the deeper sea of cold. His breath came short. The fierce bird which through the years of his childhood and the days of his illness had been poised over his head, waiting mysteriously, appeared all at once to be in motion. Asbury blanched and the last film of illusion was torn as if by a whirlwind from his eyes. He saw that for the rest of his days, frail, racked, but enduring, he would live in the face of a purifying terror. A feeble cry, a last impossible protest escaped him. But the Holy Ghost, emblazoned in ice instead of fire, continued, implacable, to descend.

How does one let go of trying to understand this unnatural condition and just live?

Bah, this is very muddled.

But thanks for speaking with a true and clear voice. Off to service...