Under Pressure

It’s all too much. I worked a double shift on Monday and could barely think yesterday (thank you bipolar brain) and worked half a day and left. I checked my email later in the day and got my hands slapped by my supervisor, and thus this morning I am sitting in my office, waiting for everyone to arrive and dreading what the day ahead holds. My mind has been spinning since I woke up at 3 this morning, my stomach is full of anxiety and I don’t know what to do. I am so scared.

Would it be better if I just quit? What do these people want from me? They give me nothing to do and yet expect me to sit here for 8 hours a day looking busy. This is not what I was promised, and I can feel my soul dying every day.

And so I sit here terrified, at 7:50 AM, waiting for people to arrive. To look at me strangely, to have “discussions” with me. But what can I do? What can I tell them? I am bipolar and am having a near nervous breakdown? Would they even be able to understand it?

I feel like the ugly stepchild here. I feel as if I am an afterthought. As if I was promised the brass ring and now that I am here it has all fallen apart and I am at my wits end with what to do. Do I leave this profession? Do I leave this job? Do I go stark raving mad and make them all see what this disease is really like?

Because I do not feel I have any support here. And that is one of the hardest things. I thought about suicide again last night, just so I wouldn’t have to be here today. But, per usual, I just went to bed and forced myself out of it this morning. And here I am, waiting for the ax to fall…

I feel so incredibly alone. I hear them. I hear them saying they want to help but I can’t trust them. I can’t trust anyone but the man I love and my best friend. And so I sit, putting these words on the page, hoping it might alleviate some of the tension in my body. But it doesn’t. Nothing will. Not until I understand what is happening, what I did wrong and if/how I can fix it.

FUCK. I am fucked.

© Sorrow & Kindness


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