Finding the Right Mix

Henry David Thoreau spoke of men leading lives of quiet desperation. I can relate to that. I feel like my whole work life has been a desperate attempt to earn enough money to live on my own. I have been desperate to get enough education to have the kind of job that would give me that independence. I have been dependent on family for my living for most of my life. I have worked at a large number of jobs, trying to find the right fit. I have had difficulty with my work life because I have a disability. Not a visible disability, but a real one just the same. I have bipolar disorder.
Bipolar disorder, which is also known as manic-depressive illness, is a brain disorder that causes unusual shifts in a person's mood, energy, and ability to function. It is different from the normal ups and downs that everyone goes through in that the symptoms of bipolar disorder are severe. Left untreated these mood swings can result in damaged relationships, poor job or school performance, and even suicide. There are times when thoughts are mangled, and perceptions twisted. I cannot rely on what I think or feel when mania or depression hits. It isn’t always clear to the sufferer that he or she is in a mania or depression. It is good to have a support system in place. There is good news for most of those who suffer from this disorder; it can be managed with medication. The tough part is finding the right medication or combination of medications that will work for the individual. For many the process of finding the right mix takes years.
I have worked at so many different jobs that sometimes I forget what some of them were. I seldom hold a job long because I have troubles with absenteeism. I have had troubles with concentration on the job. I can’t seem to keep myself in a job for long. I have wanted to work. I have tried to work. Until I got stable on my medications I could not hold a job for more than nine months, with one notable exception. I worked at a pizza place for three years. I think I never lost that job, even though I had the same attendance problems I had experienced elsewhere, because I was really good at the job. There weren’t that many good workers in that place. The turn over rate was high because people quit, or were fired, all the time. I work hard when I work. I do a good job as long as I am not on a manic high, or a deep depression. It has been difficult to find a balance, to find the right mix.
In addition to attempting to work hard all of these years, I have been trying to get my degree and teaching credential since 1992. I managed to get my AA degree in 1995. Since then I have had trouble moving on. I have applied to Whittier College, where I was accepted, but could not afford to go. I took more classes at Cerritos College. I applied to and attended Cal State Fullerton. I had troubles with my mental health and screwed up my GPA. I had to quit school there. I attended Cerritos College again to pull up my GPA. I applied for readmission to Cal State Fullerton for this semester, but was told my GPA was too low. I applied at CSUDH, and here I am.
I was diagnosed with the bipolar disorder in 1996. It took until at least 2000 to find a combination of medications that worked for me. I became completely stable for the first time in as long as I could remember. I had actually been working for Bank of America at the time. I managed to work there from 1996 to
2003. I spent some of that time on disability leave, and the rest of it on written warning for attendance. I was always in danger of being fired.
Although I was stable on my medications in 2000, I had more trials ahead of me because one of my medications was what they call black boxed. It was taken off the list of medications used for my disorder because it had serious side effects affecting the heart, so I had to try a whole new list of medications. In 2002 we finally found a new combination.
Desperation sets in after a while. I want to be “normal.” I want to be stable. I was about ready to give up. I wanted to let go, sometimes even wanting to kill myself just to make the whole thing be over. I am lucky that I was able to find a combination of medications that work for me. I know people who are so severely bipolar that medications don’t work for them, or at least not for long. It took a relatively short period of time for me to find the right mix. I had more trials with medications in the last year; once again looking for the right mix.
I have lived most of my adult life with family. I have had my own place a few times, even for a few years at a time, but always with help from my life partner, a roommate, or my family. I have never been able to support myself completely. For me this creates a desperation I cannot begin to explain to you. I am not young. I need to know I can make it on my own. I am here, contemplating an advanced degree, trying to get a degree that will eventually let me earn enough money to live on. I am hoping for total independence. As long as my medications work, and I am stable, I am going to be just fine.
I am fearful about my decision to be a teacher. There is a lot of stigma attached to mental illness. If I go looking for a teaching job, and they find out about my condition, I could be turned down just for that reason. If I lie about my condition, and it comes up somehow anyway, I am also likely to lose my job and be branded a liar. I will have to keep a balance, not telling, but also not lying if I am asked directly.
My mother taught me the value of hard work. She taught me that I should be independent. I feel as though I have always been letting her down. She raised my brother and me alone. Our father left when I was eight. She worked hard to pay all of the bills he left her with and to take care of my older brother and I. I have never been able to do what she did, what she did until just about a year ago. She was working full time, at the age of seventy-four, to put me through school. I feel like I am again failing even as I succeed at school. I am letting someone else support me again so that I can try one more time to get ahead.
Thoreau was talking about how we work to have things, things we don’t need, things we want. I don’t want material things; I want to live on my own. I want a life that is not dependent on anyone else. I am living a life of quiet desperation as I try to find my way in this world. My desperation is in dealing with a condition that will not ever change. My brain chemistry is something I cannot change on my own. I have to take medications for the rest of my life. My desperation is in never feeling like I can make it on my own; medication and doctors will always be part of what I do. I am determined that this time it will be different; this time I will make it to my goal. This time I will get my degree, get a job, or get disability, and get out of my mother’s home. I live in my desperation, but I live, I work hard, and I go on.