the life of zooey who happens to be Bipolar 2
I am going to write this fast. I have family coming very soon and I have to get my shit together.
Nice 24 hours.
Not at all.
Start with a late night call letting us know that, surprise! More riffs to happen soon. Liars. Fucking liars. Why the hell do I stay in corporate weenie world? Well for one, a fucking mortgage.
But really, I am not sure how long this will last. How long I can last.
Then the news that a work colleague had a break down at work. Paramedics and police were called. I feel so bad for the sweet man who always has a smile on his face. Who amiably said hello in the halls. Who would be able to accommodate any request made of him.
Apparently he had a ‘manic’ episode. I have no idea what THAT means other than the follow up comment was ‘probably his meds. Haha, I laugh in the face of that fucking stupid remark.
True, could be meds, but I guarantee that there were other factors. Constant work, no relief. The promised threat of seemingly random termination. The stress of several workforce reductions already. And people wonder why I refrain from revealing my BP2. Case and point. Being the butt of rumors is not good for anyone’s mental health. And rumor runs fucking rampant in the corporate world.
Then, THANK YOU SO MUCH FACEBOOK for posting a fucking memory from 5 years ago of our dear dog that has been deceased about 3 years now…we are talking days from the actually date she had to be euthanized. Don’t we all love those decisions? We are executioners of our beloved fur family.
With the onset of a down-slide into depression this week, the lovely nighttime ‘good’ news, the colleague, the dog…I’ve spent most of the day in tears. In mourning. In sadness. Thank goodness I am at home or they would probably call 9 fucking 1 1 on me and start an IM chain.
Here’s to hoping I can spend some spoons and keep from scaring my sister-in-law tonight.