Do I Care Who Knows My Secrets?

I was reading this article this morning - http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/09/18/bipolar-disorder-ellen-forney_n_5823138.html, and it triggered some thoughts for me.

First, how many people have I told about my mental illness and what percentage of negative versus positive reactions have I gotten from them (not including medical professionals)? 

Let’s explore;

SC – mixed, tried to help but didn’t really understand. When her help didn’t ‘work,’ she gave up.

AA – apathy

Support group online – positive, helpful

AM – positive, empathetic

JC – mixed, tried to help but didn’t understand, often very disrespectful. Same thing as SC, when his help didn’t ‘work,’ he would get very frustrated.

Father – somewhat empathetic but told me I would have to ‘go it alone,’ because therapists are not to be trusted and they just want your money. He hasn’t said a word to me about it since then.

Sister – empathetic, helpful. I’m not sure she understands totally, but I only just told her this summer.

Bitchy mcTraitor – freaked out, tried to get me fired

GS – empathetic and understanding when I told her but when I tried to talk to her about my feelings and things that happened that relate to my disorder, I couldn't get empathy at all from her. She was very good at giving emotionless advice…

So; three purely positive responses, four mixed and two purely negative.

I’m counting apathy as a negative, especially since he and I were supposedly ‘in love’ and he never tried to help with my illness or mentioned it at all even though I was clearly suffering.

TRIGGER WARNING

Also, when I asked him if I should commit suicide, he told me he couldn’t think of a reason why not. So; definitely negative.

END TRIGGER

I’ve always kept the information that I have a mental illness very close, and obviously have only told a very few people. I always suspected something was wrong, but I didn’t get help until college when I went to my school counseling center. I didn’t even tell my father, he actually found out because he was trying to buy insurance for me and the insurance companies came back and said they wouldn’t cover me because of my depression (my dx at the time, also this was before the ACA made it illegal to deny coverage based on pre-existing conditions). So he called me up to his office area in the master bedroom when I was visiting and asked me if it were true, did I have depression?

                There wasn’t anything else for me to say at that point but yes. And we talked a bit about it, it was good, I think, to have finally let him know about it because up to that point I had been seeing a therapist and psychiatrist in secret. I was so afraid of my father finding out about it that I lied about being on his insurance plan and told my school counseling center that I didn’t have insurance. That actually worked out great for a while since they had a sliding scale for appointments, I was only paying $40 for psychiatry appointments and $2 per therapy appointment. I had a part-time job so I could pay for it all myself. I think I was afraid if my dad found out he would demand I live at home again because he would think I wasn’t able to deal with living at school. I spent my two years of college living at home but it was actually my therapist who suggested that I get the hell out of there and live on campus. It made a huge difference for me to not be around my father all the time.

                It’s not that he was abusive or anything. I’m not even sure I can explain it and have anyone understand. He was just angry all the time and I’m a very sensitive person. You know when you’re with a group of people and then one person just gets really angry about something and starts ranting about it, and then everyone gets really quiet and is afraid to speak up or say anything because if they do they know they’ll get shot down by that person and/or have that person’s anger suddenly directed at them? Like, everyone feels so awkward and afraid that they barely want to move or make a sound? 

                That is what growing up with my father was like. Pretty much every night at dinner would be like that. And he would be angry at everything and everyone. Oh, you have a tattoo? You just sealed your fate as a worthless bum because no one decent will ever employ you. The same goes for men with long hair, people who own motorcycles, and music majors.

                I had also overheard a rant my father was having about me. He seemed to think that the college I had decided to go to would turn me into a burden to the family, because I would never get a job with a degree from there. A burden to the family.

                So; I never told my father about my mental illness and I still haven’t told him about my new diagnosis. If he hadn’t found out about my depression he wouldn’t know now. I still count it as mixed because he didn’t make me live at home, and he didn’t flip out and the world didn’t explode or anything. But, not necessarily positive either. You don’t tell an almost completely isolated, lonely depressed person that they’ll have to deal with it alone. That’s simply irresponsible and ignorant. I needed help, I was desperate for it and I got it, behind his back because I believed I had to. His response confirmed that I was right to do that. 

As he has gotten older, his anger has mellowed out a bit. Also, I’ve gotten stronger and have been able to call him on his bullshit. So, maybe one day I will tell him. I seem to be moving more in that direction by telling my sister – who supports me in waiting to tell my parents until I am ready. I’m also pretty tired of hiding. I have no patience for lying and hiding anymore. 

Especially since he seems more concerned sometimes with pestering me about making sure I have maternity coverage on my insurance (which I now buy myself), than ever even asking me how my mental health is. God forbid he should make sure I have mental health coverage or a proper psychiatrist/psychologist. How it is more pressing in his brain to make sure he will not have to pay for all my illegitimate children from all the wild sex I am supposedly having than to make sure I am being treated for an illness that I will have my entire life and is often fatal, is simply beyond my understanding. Simply…. fucking…. beyond me. So; it’s not easy to not go off on him. But that's not the way I want this conversation to come up.

Anyway, this has gotten off track. The point is I want people to know and I want them to be ok with it and not freak out and complain to management or stop talking to me or talk to me but tell me shitty, ignorant things. But, since I can’t have that ideal situation most of the time I have to keep things under wraps.

-Jane

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Spring and Summer in a Nutshell (TW-suicide)

TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDAL IDEATION

I haven't been posting much lately; I'm not really good about getting things done or following through on plans. I have a box full of dirty dishes in my dining room and actually it's not the only one.

I didn't go to work today. I actually just looked at the clock, realized I was ridiculously late and I knew I didn't give a shit about going in or even trying to get ready much less booking it to get there on time.

So I called in sick. It's not like I had a lot of work to do anyway and I'm not sure I would care if I did. I think something that was said at work yesterday triggered me. We are trying to improve our processes and there is a woman helping us; we had a meeting with her yesterday and she said she would be meeting with all of us to ask basically which tasks we like about our jobs and which we don't. One of my braver coworkers spoke up in the meeting and said it best, "I come to work, but not to work, because there isn't any work for me to do!"

I'm not sure I like anything about my job. But it's hard for me to look for new ones. I look through positions online but when I see open ones they usually do not excite me. Mostly it looks just like more tiresome bullshit. The ones I do get excited about and apply for, it's really difficult for me to write the cover letters because I get so anxious. But then I don't hear anything back and my self-esteem and motivation take hits that they can't really afford.

I tried to look a little for jobs today, but I couldn't do much. I got a headache and laid back down. There was a bit of sunlight that was very bright shining in my eyes and sunlight triggers my headaches. I think perhaps I am a vampire now. I've worked so long in a basement that I just can't handle being above ground during the day. It's probably a thing.

Anyway; to break down the timeline between my previous postings and now,

In a Nutshell

• I saw my psychiatrist (hereafter known as Dr. Dead-Inside-and-Mostly-Outside); he was a horrible person. He deserves for me to sue him because he messed up my meds and upset me repeatedly; often yelling at me and all but telling me to shut up when I tried to tell him my symptoms.
• This spring I was horribly depressed to the point of suicidal ideation. I would come in to work fresh from thinking about walking in front of traffic. 
• I didn't have much of a support system. For various reasons I basically have no one to talk to about this. And because I was becoming desperate and because my coworker (hereafter known as Bitchy McTraitor) and I had started becoming closer friends, I confided in her that I was having a rough time and that I had been recently diagnosed with bipolar disorder. 
• She said I should tell my manager about my diagnosis but I disagreed. I didn't tell my employer about my diagnosis because I was afraid of giving them another reason to fire me. I know it's illegal, but they almost fired me before for a workplace injury that happened there so why not depression? They're shady, horrible people, and they proved it with all the shit that happened before with my injury. I have never trusted my manager and I told Bitchy McTraitor that.
• Bitchy McTraitor was initially sympathetic but soon distanced herself from me, and then began talking about me behind my back to other coworkers and complained about me to management. Apparently, she told management she was 'concerned about me,' but the stuff I've heard that she told other people does not support that at all. Mostly I think she was upset because I wasn't getting work done right away and she has always been one to look over my shoulder. But she should have also noticed me crying next to her at work most days. She is a heartless bitch. I mean, what kind of person sees a person, presumably a friend, who is in real trouble and says, 'man, look how this is affecting me? Look how much my workload has slightly increased because there's obviously a serious problem going on in my coworker's life. Instead of saying anything to this friend of mine and seeing if I can help her in any way, maybe I should go to management who have shown in the past that they have zero actual investment in the happiness of their employees and see how that works out.'
• This complaint led to me being written up for creating a 'hostile working environment,' and other work mistakes that were a bit shady and left mostly unexplained. I was given a week to 'improve the situation' or be terminated.
• By this time I had left Dr. Dead-Inside-and-Mostly-Outside's practice and found someone new (an NP we'll call NP Flowers) who had straightened out my meds and explained (as much as I could understand) why Dr. Dead-Inside-and-Mostly-Outside was obviously an incompetent prick. NP Flowers and I had a bit of a rough start but we're getting along fine now.
• So; once I got written up I kicked my working mode into high gear, I was mostly on time every day (as good as it gets), I quadruple-checked all my work before it went out, I did all my work right when I got it, and most importantly I scheduled time with my manager to discuss how to deal with Bitchy McTraitor. 
• There's a lot more to this story, a LOT. But bascially, I kicked ass and I took fucking names and one of them is Bitchy McTraitor's. I am now back in my manager's good graces and I cover my ass every time Bitchy McTraitor makes some new bitch move against me, so that my manager can see what a complete bully and horrible person she is. I am friendly to them even though neither of them are in MY good graces.

Maybe I will tell the rest of that story some other time. There are a lot of stories here but I think it's time to admit I'm not good at getting things done and I just want to get some of this hurt written down. Maybe it will help me sleep tonight, I don't know. I'm really considering making cookies. Or going out to buy cookies. I don't know, I feel like I need cookies.

I think I may be on a downward turn again and that is not good. Maybe it was the adrenaline and anxiety keeping me going this summer and now I'm spent. I'm finally getting a new therapist and I have made the appointment for next Friday. Hopefully she can help me get enough confidence and motivation or whatever I need to get the right stuff to finally get out of this job.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 United States License.