I Can Sit at the Adult Table Now

I've been thinking about stress a lot these last couple of weeks. There's bad stress, the perceived stress I get from hating what I see in the mirror. The reliving of past stress when I have a flashback dream to my dark days. The actual stress from not having enough hours in the day. 

Then there's good stress. For example, it can be damn stressful having friends who want to see me on the weekend when all I want to do is drink wine and make funny noises at my cat. But what's really been eating away at my sanity is the great stress that comes with having an "adult" job. 

(There's my segue.)

Yes, my temporary position at United Way has turned into a permanent staff position. I am the new Manager of Volunteer Engagement at the United Way in Waukesha County. And let me tell you, it is a fantastic and horrible thing at the same time. 

Let's start out with the fantastic. I have an office. I'm salaried. I have health benefits. I have interns I can pass off work to. I can guarantee you that my boss is more awesome than your boss. I work 3 minutes away from home, so I can spend an hour in the middle of the day in front of my TV not wearing pants. Be jealous.

But every silver lining has a cloud, or something like that. Every rainbow has rain. There's a bad side, is what I'm trying to say. I have people that are actually depending on me now. I have a schedule filled with meetings, luncheons, and press releases. I can't have an "off" day where I punch in for 8 hours only to browse the interwebs until I can retreat to the safety of my apartment. I need to be "on" for 40 hours a week. Making phone calls. Meeting with agencies. Drafting reports. Not letting people down.

Don't get me wrong. I love my job. I am so proud of myself for beating out people with more experience because I was a candidate with creative ideas and genuine passion. And I feel like I'm where I was meant to be, helping people in a very direct and noticeable way. I can picture United Way being the last place I work before Boyfriend gives me babies. (Yup, baby fever has struck. But that's a-whole-nother post.) In a nutshell: I now have a career, not a job.

Now that I've taken the opportunity to brag a little bit, back to my original thought. Stress. The symptoms of stress don't differentiate between good and bad. Even though I have a fantastic life with virtually nothing to complain about, the good stress I'm feeling manifests itself the same way bad stress would. And it all culminated this past Sunday. Sitting in my beautiful home with my fantastic boyfriend wearing a new outfit and making plans for our bright future, I totally lost it. I was a blubbering mess. And not just once. Twice. I broke down crying for an hour, picked myself up (with the massive helping hand of Boyfriend), and started over a few hours later.

I have my moments where I think I can't do it. That I'm not "normal" enough to handle a real job. That my mental illness is going to fuck up everything like it has in the past. I'm afraid I'm going to turn this into a self-fulfilling prophecy, disappointing everyone who loves me and proving right everyone who doesn't. And then all hell breaks loose like it did this Sunday.

But then Monday morning came, I went to work, rocked it, and felt confident that I won't have a repeat of last weekend. Maybe I just had to flush all the negative out of my system. And maybe that mood won't strike me again until I get a promotion and the good stress is compounded. 

The real reason I'm writing this morning is because I wanted to turn to my beloved readers for help. I want you wonderful people to hold me accountable. Shit probably hit the fan because I stopped all my "keep Mary from going crazy" strategies. Who has time to meditate, exercise, and write in their journal when they have a full time job? Someone who wants to hold onto their awesome job, that's who. This girl right here.

So you don't have to do shit besides read this, but seeing the page views on this post will encourage me. It will remind me that I told X number of people that I was going to resume my coping strategies in order to keep the positive momentum going in my life. Starting today. 

Starting now.

I hope this isn't Office Space...

Damn, I really suck at this whole posting on my blog thing. Remember in the beginning when I was posting, like, 4 times a week? I miss that. And I hate to say it, but that's not going to be coming back any time soon. And here's why.

I am joining the workforce. Yup, that's right. Gone are the days of freelance writing at the kitchen table in my bathrobe. From now on, Monday through Friday during normal business hours, I will be wearing nice slacks and a blazer at the office. I will be getting a regular paycheck instead of sporadic PayPal deposits. I will have co-workers to talk to over the water cooler. Not my cat over the Keurig.

This also means that I am officially not doing my peer support work either. And that brings about a whole bushel of mixed emotions. I'm going to miss the people I worked with. But I'm not going to miss the triggering conversations. I am going to miss being a tangible support system for people who need it. But I'm not going to miss working Sundays. I am going to miss having an excuse to hang out in the ghetto to which I have become strangely attached. But I am not going to miss the super uncomfortable chair in my office.

I learned more in my 8 months training to be and working as a peer support specialist than I have in all my other jobs and education combined. I can't find the words to explain what it did for me. But if I had to try, I would say that it taught me what it means to be human. Compassion. Strength. Inevitable weakness. The delicate balance between life events and responses. Non-judgement. How to simply be with someone. Combating stigma. What it means to have a mental illness. And what it doesn't mean. Honestly, I think the training I went through should be taught in high schools. A mandatory class that connects the brain and the heart. It's amazing how simple the concepts I learned were but how far removed I was from ever approaching them on my own. Even as a person who lives with mental illness.

The only downfall was that peer support is not a career. It's a job. A fulfilling, necessary, under appreciated, part-time, low paying, dead end job. Without degrees in psychology or social work, I didn't see where it could take me. And I hate sounding selfish. The job was not about me; it was about the residents at United House. But now it's time for me to turn my focus on myself and where I need to be. Now that I have learned, healed, and helped, it is time for me to make a move.

That being said, this new job is not my ideal career move. Yes, it is a full time office position that makes me feel all professional and shit. It pays better. It has regular hours. I am a crucial cog in the machine that is the United Way campaign. But it is temporary. It is a 4 month gig. When their fundraising campaign ends, so does my job. And I will probably go back to freelance writing for a while. And while this does stress me out a bit, I am ok with it. I think it may be a good thing that I haven't locked myself into a job that I might be at for the next decade.

I haven't worked a "real" job in almost a year. About 11 months exactly. I took the job right after graduating college, when my condition was really starting to go downhill. At the beginning, I felt super productive. I was making money. I could buy Boyfriend dinner every once in a while. It was a self-esteem boost that I needed, desperately, but that was short-lived. Soon, the intrusive thoughts and severe depression overwhelmed me like it never had before. And hopefully never will again.

I would spend 8 hours a day in my cubicle going through the motions. I put in great effort to look undisturbed. And I think I pulled it off. No one knew that I was going to the far away bathroom to cry on my lunch break. No one knew that the notes I was taking had nothing to do with work, but were instead drafts of suicide letters to loved ones. Most days I went home and collapsed on the bed, unable to enjoy my time away from the office. I didn't eat enough. And I drank too much. All this built up until I felt I had no choice but to quit. Eventually, I was going to figure out the right way to kill myself, and all my letters would be finished. It was only a matter of time, and I had a lot of it at work. So, I told them I got another job on a Tuesday, left that Thursday, and was in the ER by Sunday.

Yeah, that is how my last job went. Which is why I'm pretty ok with taking a temporary gig. If I can pull off 4 months of working in the office without losing it again, then I will have the confidence to find something permanent. But right now, I'm pretty damn nervous about starting. I have all the normal fears. What if I'm not good at my job? What if my co-workers don't like me? When will I have time to work out and have fun? But I also have the fears that are a little more unique to someone with my condition. What if I forget to take my pills with me? What if I have a breakdown at work? What if the side effects of my medication make it impossible for me to hold a job?

But I'm optimistic. I am fashioning schedules and action plans in my head to keep myself sane. I know it won't be easy, and there will probably still be days that I come home and flop on the bed before grabbing a glass of wine, but I also feel like I need to do this for more than just myself. After working as a peer support specialist, I feel like something of a role model. One guy I worked with called me a "gold member," someone who has mastered their mental illness. I want to be proof to him and others that having a serious mental illness does not mean that you are not capable. I want to be "normal."

So that's where I'm at now. I would like to tell you that I will give you an update after I start working, let you know if I'm losing my mind or not, but that probably won't happen. Ideally, I would continue this writing thing to keep my head clear and to stay fresh on my writing ability, but it will likely be another month before you hear anything out of me. So wish me luck! Today is my last week day without a job, and I am going to enjoy it.