There are ways to have adult temper tantrums, and I am going to have one tonight in the form of a carbohydrate laden meal. Then I’ll brush myself off (ok, crash on the couch), and find some way to decide what to do when reality is vastly different from what’s in my brain, and the voices arrive to remind me.
I recently received a prestigious award at work, and my brain is processing it in a paranoid version of “Where the Wild Things Are,” in particular, “Oh, no, please don’t go, we’ll eat you up we love you so!” They like what I do, and for the most part I do it well. But my brain thought it was the last thank you before the kick out the door (even though, realistically, you can’t find enough folks to do my job). I also found paranoia in the idea that I can’t say no, I do too much for others and I do it well, and this is their way of saying “thanks, keep sacrificing your sanity for our beach vacation.” Metaphorically speaking of course, because none of what we do is a beach vacation. And none of them knew I was feeling crazy, so how could they thank me in the most accurate way?
The thing is, they don’t know I’m sacrificing my sanity. There are two co-workers who know I have bipolar, and neither know I have heard voices. I found an ineffective way to make several people frustrated but also protective on my behalf; neither result was ideal.
So back to the drawing board, next to the peach cobbler. The people pleasing personality traits have got to go. I just don’t know if peace of mind comes from telling co-workers about my bipolar; I have already admitted my personality traits to them that made last week a struggle for all of us. You are faced with a new challenge when you say it out loud and someone agrees. That’s what brought on the voices. They told me I was unworthy, ineffective, and should just end it. They are quiet now, they just want carbs. If they could carry the weight of the carbs, that would be even better.