telling your boss about your mental illness

I found this entry of New York Times‘s “The Ethicist” interesting: should you tell your boss about your mental illness.  (copy-pasted below for your convenience.)

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Muted

I used to feel like I had a lot to say.  I used to think my words were valuable and beneficial to others.  that I was a grand writer with wonderful skill sets.  that my writings would change the life of at least one person (ideally in a positive way).

alas.  I don’t think those things anymore.  I’m not special anymore.  I’ve let myself become normal and boring.  I have a home with a boyfriend, a droning office job, a car that runs, etc.  sure, these are great things for me to have.  but they make for a boring a typical life.

what happened to my life of living in a barn?  or when I was a security guard?  or when I wasn’t medicated?  what about when I used to go on adventure runs all the time?  when I had two jobs and was in school for 21 hours in a single semester?  or when I was changing my hair colour to everything under the sun?  or when I worse safety pens all over my body?

what happened to that creative, exciting lass?  where did she go?  where did the Prince to all the ladies go?  where did the Greatest run away to?  the Shinigami?   the Dark Poet?  where is that crazy, hyperactive, over-achieving, all-power tomboy?

I miss the persons that used to live inside my head.  there were several of them.  and they would take charge and be Me for a while.  but now it’s just one voice I hear — my own depressing lull.

nothing matters to me anymore.  I don’t care about anything.  I don’t feel for much of anything.  my life is so Muted.  I’m Dead inside.

BPD, DBT, and bears — OH MY!

so a doctor finally sees it.  I’ve only been saying it for how many years now?  but finally, a specialist recognizes it – I have Borderline Personality Disorder.

it’s a breath of relief to be able to say that with more certainty, with a clinician’s loose opinion to back me up.

it doesn’t change who I am or how I function.  but it does mean that we may attack the Noise in my head in a different manner.

my psychiatrist wants me to start DBT – Dialectical Behavior Therapy.  basically training to rewire how your brain thinks, focusing strongly on things like mindfulness, interpersonal effectiveness, distress tolerance, and (what I really need help with) emotion regulation.

more details on this later, including what exactly Borderline is.

stay tuned!

alive-ish

hello, hello.  I’m still up and running — albeit, barely.  so here’s an update on my life recently.

Employment

work at the law firm is going the same as usual.  I feel like I should be doing a better job at everything.  but then I don’t have the energy to go above-and-beyond as I normally do.  so I just sit and mope.

the fun story about my recent employment is how I worked security for the Super Bowl this past weekend.  I was outside for over 17 hours in the freezing cold with minimal breaks.  I did get to go into the stadium at one point and see both the very end of the halftime show plus the start of the third quarter.  it was cool.  I was stationed at a Talent Entrance, so I saw people like Kelly Clarkson.

my favourite part, however, was when everyone was exiting the stadium campus and SEAN PAYTON (Saints head coach) CROSSED RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME.  he was so close, I could have kissed him on the cheek.  I seriously, legit swooned for a moment, lol.

oh yeah, and I get paid for all of it.  😀

Other (Mis-)Adventures

I want to do the Polar Plunge this year.  it’s in March, so it will have warmed up some.  I have a friend who may be willing to do it with me.  and Brian said he would be there to watch and support.

School

no, I haven’t started back into grad school.  I have decided, however, that I need to start looking into strictly online schools.  so that even if I move, maybe I can still stay enrolled and such.  so that’s a new project soon to be started.

Table-Top Campaigns

Brian is still running Scion.  I am supposed to start a Silver Age Sentinels campaign soon — wherein the players are villains instead of heroes.

My Writing

I’m active in the Twin Cities NaNo group on Discord.  hopefully, I will start writing again soon.

Addictions

so as of sometime at the end of Jan, my probation from my DUI ended.  I can technically go into bars and the like again.  I’m allowed to drink and be a normal adult.  Brian pointed this out to me —  I’m not sure why; I guess just because he likes sharing information and facts, not matter the consequences?

but it doesn’t matter to me.  my behaviour won’t change much.  I will still have a few drinks here or there.  I just have to keep it in check.

I’ve wanted to cut a lot lately.  it’s due to my Mind being utter chaos.  cutting always straightened me out; put my head back on in the correct direction, allowing me to get shit done.  but without cutting, I just sit in the windfall of disaster and panic in my Head and I drown.

I’ve been not eating again.  a lot.  but I’ve been losing weight, so that’s nice.

Physical Health

…despite not doing my kickboxing.  I mean, I have not been to a gym in over a month.  wtf?  I keep having panic attacks everytime I try.

but I’m going to try again tomorrow morning, I think.  and I may allow myself to pinch or something if I have to.  nothing serious, of course.  but something just enough to pull me out of whatever Fit I may end up falling into.  sometimes, even just knowing that’s an option helps….

Mental/Emotional Health

as was previously expressed, I’m not doing well in the Head.  between the depression-side of my bipolar and my S.A.D., I’m really falling apart.  I’m hopeless, goalless, aimless, and careless.  I have no suspicion that anything will improve, and I hate existence in its entirety.

Brian

things are pretty good between us.  he’s been doing a good job of taking care of me.  I can see it’s wearing on him, though.  I need to get better — if for nothing else than his sake.

Staying in Minnesota

rumour has it Brian is making other plans than the original “stay here for five years”.  but I’m not getting my hopes.  we’ve already been here 2.5 years.  so I’m expecting another three or four, just to be on the safe side.

though Brian and I both understand that I may not last here that long….

helplessly Strong

she sits in a coffee shop, working on the table-top campaign that she was going to be running in a few weeks.  she was tired, sore, and incredibly hungry.  she wanted so terribly to eat something, nigh anything.  but she didn’t.  she stayed strong and Controlled her body.  she was still in charge.

then why did she feel so weak? why was she so helpless in this situation?

and it wasn’t even a drastic or dangerous situation.  it was just an awkward social gathering.

it was the NaNo Twin Cities group.  they were meeting in person officially for the first time since November.  she was happy to be around writers again.  she was so happy, she brought along one of her best friends who is also categorized as a writer in her head.  but may she was mistaken.

because there he sits, bored and uninterested.

she secretly texts an apology to him for dragging him along.  he responds as expected — shrugging it off kindly.  she still regrets, on his behalf, extending the invite.

he says he would later explain why it wasn’t a problem at all.  she is hesitant to believe he will indeed tell her the full truth.  but what else can she do?

so she waits.  she waits until this is all over with and she could just move on with life.

this stupid, horrid life that she doesn’t want anyway.

soaking

in the tub. with my cell. with bubbles and epsom salt. with hot and hoefully healing waters.

in my self-hatred and concern. about my skills set and capabilities. about if my creativity is even alive anymore. about my cage called “a body”.

in my longing. for the sun. to be outside. to have a group of friends. to host shindigs. to have a home again.

in my fear. of my personal future. of what this president is doing to the whole world. of my career. of never being happy again. of being stuck in this state.

in hopelessness. because nothing will  change soon enough. because I will never like, much less love, myself. because I will never truly write again.

in the tub. with cold water now. without anymore bubbles or full grains of salt. without any sense of peace that this was supposed to give me.

soaking.

can’t do this

I CAN’T DO THIS.

I’m tired of the NOISE.  so tired of THE LOUD-ASS NOISE THAT FUCKING ECHOES IN  YOUR GODDAMN HEART.  IN YOUR FUCKING MIND.

We throw tantrums like parties.
We’re not happy ’til everyone knows we’re SICK.
And that’s just how we like it.
We’ve hurt Bad enough, right?  We’ve Earned it.
Don’t tell the others, but it’s all getting old.
you can hear It.  It Breathes against you.  It Breathes in spite of you.  you are merely a Pawn in Its creation.
I mean, how many more times must our stories be told?
And being lonely’s only fun in a group;
It sort of loses it’s charm when it’s true.
you can’t do anything against its noise and chaos and pain and hate and loudness and rage and anxiety and compulsions and noise and paranoia and eating disorders and thoughts and opinions and concerns and just everything.  there is too much.  and the Mind never stops.  NEVER STOPS.
So now you know all my secrets.
I want out; I know I don’t need this.
Can you find me friends that don’t rank me on what I’ve been through?
The more battle scars, the more attention it gets you.
Don’t tell the others, but it’s all getting old.
but I Like it; rather I  Need it.  I hold on to it.  I don’t move past it.  because I’m scared about what’s beyond me, what’s More than me, what is -Without Me-.
I meant it when I said,
“I wanna get well! I wanna get well!”
Are the rest of you so content?
Stay where you are, but it hurts like hell.
And I’m sure it’s fun at first;
test your pulse, and check your vitals.
If it’s only a Game, you lost me.
I quit it with the Suicidal Recital.

shit.  I can’t even pretend I know the original direction this post was going in…..
I was lost.  hopeless.  depressed.  so many of those Old and Comforting Feelings I had.  but Brian suggested I Write instead of mope.  Write.  how often do I Write anymore?  and what of that which I Write even matters anymore?  I mean, none of it really.  at least back then, it was the Truth as per a small child whose life was important.  now I’m adult who’s thrown off on her own and matters not.
Yeah, we should’ve known it would End this way.
What did you expect? — pretend it all Away?
And all we’ve got left is a sorry pile of hearts.
I’m getting out — gonna write myself a new Start.
Come on, dry your eyes, meet me on the other side.
Run as fast as you can, and we’ll make it out alive.
We know better now; we don’t have to live like This.
Go tell them all we don’t have to live like This.

SURPRISE ME.

let me go.
let me FREE.

https://www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/Z9fGKx7yzF4?rel=0

let me not wake tomorrow.

I’m tired of this Battle again.

it’s the same War I’ve been fighting for so long.

LET ME GO!!!