I’m wondering tonight whether my frequent instances of nervous energy qualify as mania & whether that is why my diagnosis is bipolar disorder and not just depression.
Hmmm. Could be.
I hate the nervousness of this energy. It’s sickening. I’ve felt this way frequently since I was seven or eight years old. One would think I’d have adjusted to it by now & in my fashion, I have. My ways of adjusting aren’t always healthy, but I’ve managed to work since I was seventeen, to get up every morning and get on with my life. I’ve even managed to hold the same job for over eight years. The way I feel sometimes, I wonder how! But that is neither here nor there, and I’m pretty sure from my history that I would be wondering that no matter where I worked.
I am calmer as I grow older.
I am thankful for that.
Tonight, I feel extra nervous about going to work tomorrow. Not about the job itself am I nervous. I’m good at what I do & I like to be busy. I’m nervous because it feels like school all over again.
School… until I learned to stuff my emotions, school caused me excessive anxiety. My family was poor. I was shamed into silence about abuse I endured and I had a codependency with my mom, always needing to be good so as not to upset her.
I was sick every Sunday evening with worry about returning to school. Long weekends, Christmas break and summer vacation were torture when they ended.
It’s not so much that other kids were mean, though sometimes they were. I grew into fear. I was afraid of the fighting at home and paranoid about how my peers perceived me.
I trusted no one.
I begin to feel that way about my job. When two people talk quietly in my presence, I fear they are talking about me. When I make a mistake, my mind jumps to the worst conclusion – that I’ll be fired & worse, that I’ll be yelled at and then fired. Oh joy paranoia. Increased when I am asked often whether I’ m okay, when I’m told others are saying I’m overwhelmed. Yet I’m told there is no complaint concerning my work. This leaves me paranoid, yes, but also baffled. If I’m doing a good job, what is the problem? It’s no secret I live with MENTAL ILLNESS, people! I feel as though I’m being informally punished for illnesses I never asked to inherit, despite the fact that I’m a hard worker.
Tonight, I feel that old fear in the pit of my stomach, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or maybe it’s just the stomach flu, another illness for which I didn’t ask but which my daughters may have shared with me anyway!