I'm not alone 'cause the TV's on, yeah.
I'm not crazy 'cause I take the right pills every day and rest.
-- Jimmy Eat World, Bleed American
Just a few adjustments I've made recently:
Taking a hand-full of pills morning and night religiously.
Learning to cook for one again.
Having a set "bed time" (usually, still working on it).
Rediscovering the true art of belching. Not the wimpy little burps mind you. I'm talking from the diaphragm, throat relaxed, booming off the top of your esophagus belches.
Listening to the music that I want to, when I want to.
Being comfortable at home by myself (with the TV on, yeah). I probably walked around Wal-Mart and the Mall more in the first few weeks of being on my own than I ever did in my entire life before that.
Making new friends and realizing that some old friends are weirded out by me now (I'm not as troubled by this as I thought I might be, it's caused me to realize that some of my old friendships might not have been as healthy as they might have seemed).
Generally, beginning to accept who I am and to get over myself.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Becoming One of the Few
I would not say that I have been callous. I wouldn't even say that I have been unaware. I grew up in one of the few integrated schools in a rural area of my state. Growing up, I saw first hand the hateful epithets hurled at my friends. I have a mother, sisters, aunts… I have seen each struggle for respect of their skills and abilities at one time or another.
I wasn't callous -- but I also was not one of them. Growing up as a white male I can say that neither my gender nor my ethnicity served as a significant stumbling block. Don't get me wrong, I am no fan of affirmative action. I feel that such a system only serves to divide people who should be drawn together. Unfortunately, like democracy, it seems that affirmative action is the worst solution to the problem of discrimination except for all of the other solutions that have been tried or proposed.
But I digress…
My position was sympathetic but a bit uninvolved. An issue which concerned me only tangentially. Only a small, extreme element argued that my very existence posed a threat to civilization -- a small group with no real power or voice. That was when I was one of the many.
I find that has changed. Legislators appear on television and propose that my Second Amendment rights be curtailed without judge or jury because I am a "danger". Talking heads posit that I should have the scarlet letter of "bi-polar" placed in my school records or in my work files. Others suggest that registration is in order, allowing people in the community to know when and where I live -- like a sex offender.
Now I am one of the diagnosed. One of the "certifiable". One of the few.
I wasn't callous -- but I also was not one of them. Growing up as a white male I can say that neither my gender nor my ethnicity served as a significant stumbling block. Don't get me wrong, I am no fan of affirmative action. I feel that such a system only serves to divide people who should be drawn together. Unfortunately, like democracy, it seems that affirmative action is the worst solution to the problem of discrimination except for all of the other solutions that have been tried or proposed.
But I digress…
My position was sympathetic but a bit uninvolved. An issue which concerned me only tangentially. Only a small, extreme element argued that my very existence posed a threat to civilization -- a small group with no real power or voice. That was when I was one of the many.
I find that has changed. Legislators appear on television and propose that my Second Amendment rights be curtailed without judge or jury because I am a "danger". Talking heads posit that I should have the scarlet letter of "bi-polar" placed in my school records or in my work files. Others suggest that registration is in order, allowing people in the community to know when and where I live -- like a sex offender.
Now I am one of the diagnosed. One of the "certifiable". One of the few.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
A Cloudy Day
Clouds linger on a day predicted to be mostly sunny, both by the weatherman and I. Recent days seemed good. I got my first full paycheck, always guaranteed to make one more amenable to a new job. It even seemed that I made progress in learning the myriad intricacies of an out-dated legacy computer system and the parameters of my job. Then dawned today.
Half of my work from yesterday got e-mailed back to me from an accounting center at the home office, humiliatingly copied to my boss. In my fluster to fix the problems, I sent corrections that turned out to be incorrect. Finally, my boss came to me and asked that I take my time to fix all of the errors then present them to her before sending them out of the office. It is a new process that I am learning, so the errors might otherwise be forgiven, but several of them were simple typos – sloppy work. I have a good boss and she has never yelled, spoken with clenched teeth, etc. But she has made it clear in the past that the cardinal sin of this work is inaccuracy. Time is not relevant so long as your end product is 100% correct.
This is about a 175 degree shift (not quite 180) from my prior profession. As an attorney, time was always of paramount importance. Minor errors could be excused and forgiven when the larger picture was correct. The important thing came down to how much time it required you to complete a task. As a result, I still get flustered when a project is taking “too much time” and have a tendency to panic. Now I must school myself to calm down and work the problem.
But I didn’t do that.
And now I feel myself on the ragged edge of a stall. “How could I make these stupid mistakes?” I berate myself. I know that I must avoid allowing myself to become trapped in a depression that may take days or weeks from which to claw myself free. But isn’t it normal to be upset, and even a little depressed, when you feel like you have screwed up royally on your job?
Damn! Damn! Damn! Self-awareness and self-examination are not all they are cracked up to be. Churchill described Russia as “riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma”. Trying to pin down your own true emotions and motivations are ten times worse.
The true kicker is that the several days before may have been a mild mania. I felt good – really good – but it did not seem inordinately so. Sure, I did have trouble getting to sleep on time, but that was not such a big deal I reasoned. Now I wonder if I got a bit manic over the few days before, resulting in my flurry of hurried and incorrect work.
Should I have recognized the difficulty sleeping as a sign and been more cautious. Can’t I make a few mistakes without it being a manic episode? Maybe. Surely not every screwed up day in my life has been due to mania. But again, what if it was? Even worse, can’t I have a few good days in a row without it being mania? DAMN! DAMN! And DOUBLE DAMN!
I did have an appointment to see my pill pusher tomorrow, but I have to move it a week because I was subpoenaed to appear at a hearing for the guy who backed out into my van about three months ago. One of the things we are to check is whether my Depakote blood levels are right. Over time the body can adjust to the Depakote, and it may be necessary to up the dosage – especially since I started at a low dosage and am not the smallest of men. So I wonder, is the Depakote not having the full effect right now? I hope that is it. I hope that if I am beginning the see-sawing again that a minor adjustments to my medication can help. Of course, all if this may just be my own boneheaded mistakes.
Meanwhile, I have got to get to sleep on time, or make myself go to bed a little early. I have got to expel fear, hopelessness and self-doubt from my mind. Without fail, I must implement those mental and physical procedures designed to keep me on an even keel.
The weatherman is calling for sunny skies tomorrow. Me, I think I will go with mostly cloudy, and try to relish the odd sunbeam that manages to break through.
Half of my work from yesterday got e-mailed back to me from an accounting center at the home office, humiliatingly copied to my boss. In my fluster to fix the problems, I sent corrections that turned out to be incorrect. Finally, my boss came to me and asked that I take my time to fix all of the errors then present them to her before sending them out of the office. It is a new process that I am learning, so the errors might otherwise be forgiven, but several of them were simple typos – sloppy work. I have a good boss and she has never yelled, spoken with clenched teeth, etc. But she has made it clear in the past that the cardinal sin of this work is inaccuracy. Time is not relevant so long as your end product is 100% correct.
This is about a 175 degree shift (not quite 180) from my prior profession. As an attorney, time was always of paramount importance. Minor errors could be excused and forgiven when the larger picture was correct. The important thing came down to how much time it required you to complete a task. As a result, I still get flustered when a project is taking “too much time” and have a tendency to panic. Now I must school myself to calm down and work the problem.
But I didn’t do that.
And now I feel myself on the ragged edge of a stall. “How could I make these stupid mistakes?” I berate myself. I know that I must avoid allowing myself to become trapped in a depression that may take days or weeks from which to claw myself free. But isn’t it normal to be upset, and even a little depressed, when you feel like you have screwed up royally on your job?
Damn! Damn! Damn! Self-awareness and self-examination are not all they are cracked up to be. Churchill described Russia as “riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma”. Trying to pin down your own true emotions and motivations are ten times worse.
The true kicker is that the several days before may have been a mild mania. I felt good – really good – but it did not seem inordinately so. Sure, I did have trouble getting to sleep on time, but that was not such a big deal I reasoned. Now I wonder if I got a bit manic over the few days before, resulting in my flurry of hurried and incorrect work.
Should I have recognized the difficulty sleeping as a sign and been more cautious. Can’t I make a few mistakes without it being a manic episode? Maybe. Surely not every screwed up day in my life has been due to mania. But again, what if it was? Even worse, can’t I have a few good days in a row without it being mania? DAMN! DAMN! And DOUBLE DAMN!
I did have an appointment to see my pill pusher tomorrow, but I have to move it a week because I was subpoenaed to appear at a hearing for the guy who backed out into my van about three months ago. One of the things we are to check is whether my Depakote blood levels are right. Over time the body can adjust to the Depakote, and it may be necessary to up the dosage – especially since I started at a low dosage and am not the smallest of men. So I wonder, is the Depakote not having the full effect right now? I hope that is it. I hope that if I am beginning the see-sawing again that a minor adjustments to my medication can help. Of course, all if this may just be my own boneheaded mistakes.
Meanwhile, I have got to get to sleep on time, or make myself go to bed a little early. I have got to expel fear, hopelessness and self-doubt from my mind. Without fail, I must implement those mental and physical procedures designed to keep me on an even keel.
The weatherman is calling for sunny skies tomorrow. Me, I think I will go with mostly cloudy, and try to relish the odd sunbeam that manages to break through.
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