the life of zooey who happens to be Bipolar 2
It’s been quite awhile since I’ve posted.
I’ve been at war.
Since being promoted to Manager in December, I’m responsible for others’ well-being, not just what I am individually working on. I fight for them. I work at keeping wolves at bay. And believe me, they are howling.
In the last 3 months, at an increasingly accelerated pace, a new reorganization of our department has been in the works. During this time, no workers were ‘slated to be cut,’ but the executive posse shuffle included my boss leaving. My boss, who is also my mentor and friend. It was a shock to all who reported to her, but we understood her her decision to move on.
In corporate-speak, her group of managers were now ‘floating.’ We had no director to help navigate and lobby for the needs of our group. We had no one to champion us. We were on our own. We ended up one-on-one with people who didn’t understand what we did. These executive could change not only our worlds but the people we managed in a blink of an eye,based on wrong information from anyone who was land-grabbing.
Vultures in other departments circled, waiting for more dead carcasses. We fought to be included in decisions that would affect our teams. We fought to keep our teams together.
And every day, like clockwork, I went on an acid trip between 2-3 PM.
Didn’t matter what or if I ate lunch. Didn’t matter if I drank tons of water. The bile and roiling indigestion planted itself right in the middle of my throat. I wouldn’t go away.
The stress in my corporate career reached an all time high. Apparently, crying on the way home in frustration or letting out some anger at the situation off campus wasn’t enough. Now my body was getting into the act. The super soaker of burning, caustic lava threatened menacingly each day.
I had to do something. I could move on, too. I could work through this and see if it turned out better. For now, I’ll stay. In the past few weeks, I’m quickly learning corporate politics and how to leverage consultants to help with my team’s needs. It’s been helping. Zantac helps. I work to harden the fuck up for my people and get on with this shit show. I even wore the socks to prove it on Tuesday.
So I’ll keep up the good fight, wear my swearing socks with ‘ass’ and ‘fuck’ on them under my jeans and navigate the corporate jungle ways.