If you want a fun scavenger hunt idea, visit your local Barnes & Noble (or other bookstore) and see how many self help books with swear words in the title you can find. It's actually pretty fun and amusing. Here is the list I came up with:
Fuck Feelings
Get Shit Done
How to Get Shit Done
Unfuckology
Unfuck Yourself
How to Stop Feeling Like Shit
Let that Shit Go
Find Your Fucking Happy
The Good Girls' Guide to Being a Dick
Fuck Love
Calm the Fuck Down
Get Your Shit Together
I Used to be a Miserable Fuck
The Life Changing Magic of Not Giving a Fuck
Everything is Fucked
Stop Doing that Shit
The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck
Swearing is kind of the "in thing" nowadays. You can get swearing coloring books, mugs, dish towels, and -my favorite- socks. But why are we into that? To make light of all the crap in our lives? To wear our pain with a smile? Honestly, it's probably just a bunch of marketing bullshit. Marketing has our best interests at heart, right? Publishers are looking out for our health and wellbeing, one quality book at a time. Yeah, right. Unfortunately, they are all pretty much the same. Some fluffy words and quotes amid artsy-fartsy lettering and swathes of pastel watercolor. The authors always have lots of letters after their name- some professional jargon, indecipherable to the general public. Because the more degrees you have, the more credible you are (obviously!).
I want to write. I want to publish a book. The only credential I have is that I've been through the meat grinder of mental illness and come out barely alive on the other side with a moderate amount of success. I don't have a bachelor's degree. I didn't take any fancy writing courses. I never studied mental illness treatments- I went through the treatments as a patient. I know and understand what works, and I want to share that experience with others in a way that's approachable and affordable to others. Not many people are in a position to take off weeks or even months of work to go through therapy one to five days a week, let alone be able to afford the extravagant cost of therapy. In that respect, I know I was and continue to be very fortunate. And so, I will continue to write here in a boring font with absolutely no marketing ploys or cool visual graphics, hoping that at least a few souls out there will be inspired even in the slightest.
Friday, June 14, 2019
Friday, June 7, 2019
Work? Check, Please!
In the past week, I've cried three times at work. Two of those times I ended up leaving work all together. And I got a warning. A warning? I don't think I've ever gotten a warning for anything in my life. In general, I'd describe myself as a stellar employee. I have high morals and standards when it comes to work, and that has shown in all that I do. But apparently crying at work is inappropriate and disruptive. If losing composure at work is something that will be repeated, then I must disclose a disability and have specific accommodations written out by my treating physician. After having this conversation with management, I felt like the rug got pulled out from under my feet. A crushing weight sat on my chest, suffocating me. The world felt like it was crumbling around me and I was sliding backwards, returning to a time in my life where I just couldn't "do life." Why am I getting "in trouble" for a mental illness? If I barfed at work in stead of cried, would I have been written up? I felt like my character was being attacked. "Maybe this isn't the right job for you." "Maybe you can't handle the stress of this job." "Maybe you need to be more open to change." No! Stop! This isn't me! I've gone above and beyond in every way possible. I've contributed great ideas, taken on extra work, stayed late finishing things. After one year of being a rock-star employee, I felt like my entire worth was diminished by my recent loss of composure.
After leaving work (the second time), I cried and screamed, I panicked, and felt trapped. The drive home felt like it took a lifetime. I just wanted to escape this situation as fast as I could, but was limited by rush hour traffic. My mind was racing, and I brainstormed all the possible options I had to get this disgusting feeling out of me. Will I have to go back to the hospital? Would that be best? No, it would only disrupt my life even more. Do I need to hurt myself to get away from this black hole? Is dying the only way to fix this? No, I've got this. I just need to hang on for now. Just hold on a little longer. Maybe hope isn't all lost. Having passive thoughts about dying freaked me out even more. My mind was spiraling out of control, and I had no idea how to get off of this emotional roller-coaster.
Luckily, I already had an appointment scheduled to meet with my psychiatric nurse just a few days after this whole ordeal. It is nearly impossible to get in to see mental health professionals on short notice, so I was incredibly thankful that this appointment had already been scheduled ages ago. The timing couldn't have been more perfect. The waterworks made another appearance at this appointment, as I laid out all the stressors of my job and how they had been piling up for an entire year, wearing me down, and breaking my resolve. I'd finally reached a point where I had lost my ability to cope. Even after a fabulous weekend off from work, I found myself starting each new week on Monday feeling like I hadn't recovered enough from the week before to survive yet another week of the same old ridiculous circus.
We decided it would be best to take a short leave of absence under FMLA. For those not familiar with FMLA, it is a law that grants employees (unpaid) time off of work for various reasons while protecting your job in the process. It can be used for things such as a personal illness (in my case), a new baby or adoption, to care for a sick relative, or military leave. Effective immediately, I left my appointment feeling like an immense weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I could finally breathe. I went home, read a great book, and then took the most amazing two and a half hour nap. I slept like a corpse (Probably a bad analogy under the circumstances), as if my brain and my body could just let all the tension go and finally rest and recuperate.
I'm feeling more hopeful now that I have this time to build my mental health back up. I'm still scared to return to work in two weeks. Or the prospect of starting a new job all together is equally daunting. But for now I'm going to focus on "me" the next two weeks.
After leaving work (the second time), I cried and screamed, I panicked, and felt trapped. The drive home felt like it took a lifetime. I just wanted to escape this situation as fast as I could, but was limited by rush hour traffic. My mind was racing, and I brainstormed all the possible options I had to get this disgusting feeling out of me. Will I have to go back to the hospital? Would that be best? No, it would only disrupt my life even more. Do I need to hurt myself to get away from this black hole? Is dying the only way to fix this? No, I've got this. I just need to hang on for now. Just hold on a little longer. Maybe hope isn't all lost. Having passive thoughts about dying freaked me out even more. My mind was spiraling out of control, and I had no idea how to get off of this emotional roller-coaster.
Luckily, I already had an appointment scheduled to meet with my psychiatric nurse just a few days after this whole ordeal. It is nearly impossible to get in to see mental health professionals on short notice, so I was incredibly thankful that this appointment had already been scheduled ages ago. The timing couldn't have been more perfect. The waterworks made another appearance at this appointment, as I laid out all the stressors of my job and how they had been piling up for an entire year, wearing me down, and breaking my resolve. I'd finally reached a point where I had lost my ability to cope. Even after a fabulous weekend off from work, I found myself starting each new week on Monday feeling like I hadn't recovered enough from the week before to survive yet another week of the same old ridiculous circus.
We decided it would be best to take a short leave of absence under FMLA. For those not familiar with FMLA, it is a law that grants employees (unpaid) time off of work for various reasons while protecting your job in the process. It can be used for things such as a personal illness (in my case), a new baby or adoption, to care for a sick relative, or military leave. Effective immediately, I left my appointment feeling like an immense weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I could finally breathe. I went home, read a great book, and then took the most amazing two and a half hour nap. I slept like a corpse (Probably a bad analogy under the circumstances), as if my brain and my body could just let all the tension go and finally rest and recuperate.
I'm feeling more hopeful now that I have this time to build my mental health back up. I'm still scared to return to work in two weeks. Or the prospect of starting a new job all together is equally daunting. But for now I'm going to focus on "me" the next two weeks.
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