Fired

I got fired from my temp job today.

I haven't been blogging because I've been trying to actually get out of bed every day, at least for a little while. A friend of a friend works at a temporary agency, and she pushed my application through, and I had my first job today. And not a moment too soon- my checking account balance is critically low, and I need to do something. My partner isn't working now either, but that's a story for another post.

Anyway, this was my first temp job, and it was supposed to last 3-4 weeks. Pretty sweet at $20/ hour. I don't know what I did wrong but when I came back from lunch they said they didn't need me after all and that I should leave. It took me a minute to realize they meant "and don't come back." It took all I had not to burst into tears.

My friend of a friend at the temp agency, basically my boss, told me it was nothing about me, they just didn't need the extra help. I bought that- it had been super slow. Later she told me they said I just wasn't a good receptionist. I'll admit I had a hard time learning how to look up the different names and departments. I'll admit I surfed the internet when things were slow, and they were basically slow all morning. But I was only there 3 hours, and for part of that my phone and computer didn't work.

I don't know how I could have done a better job, and I don't think they gave me a fair shake.

Sometimes mood swings are real, and can't be fixed by medication. On Friday I was feeling terrific that something had gone my way and that I would be employed, however menially. Today I feel so low I almost had to call my therapist, but I'm seeing her tomorrow, so I'll wait. In the meantime, I'll alternate between crying and sleeping until my partner gets home, then I'll try not to burden him more than necessary.

Blogs are a great place to vent. And they already have a new temp job lined up for me, which is nice. I hope I don't fuck it up too.

Good Times and Bad Times

The last two weeks have been a bi-polar rapid cycling nightmare. I have had no inclination to blog, even though I always feel better when I write. When I'm up, I don't want to blog about the bad times, and when I'm down, I can't do anything. This blog is important to me and important to my therapy and progress.

Eventually I will need to get a job, but all I can do is lie in the bed. Something has to change. I can't live my life through a television and a laptop. I have to do my fucking taxes.

Sometimes I take Adderall that I get from my best friend. This super speedy pill allows me to have a normal day. When I used to take it recreationally, before my diagnoses, it would flip me into a manic episode. More on this later.

What did people with depression do before laptops? Televisions? I used to devour books- reading has always been a passion for me- but my depression has ruined that source of pleasure. Depression takes away everything you love.

I Applied for Public Assistance Today

As if I couldn't feel any worse. I left my half-million dollar townhouse after removing my $25,000 wedding ring and drove my late model Mercedes down to the DC Department of Health to apply for medicaid, food stamps, and whatever else they might have that could help me. All around me were people with real problems, and I felt like dirt.

My therapist says not think that way, that my problems are just as real as anyone else's, but she's wrong. My own actions and choices brought me to here, to my knees. I'm facing the career-crippling embarrassment of having my phone cut off (or the lights), possible eviction, even starvation. I have less than a thousand dollars in my checking account and I haven't paid the mortgage in two months.

I'm different from the others, and they can tell by my self-manicured nails and designer bag. I'm different, because I truly believe, that my family will help me.

And that makes me feel even worse.

I don't want to be that girl, the spoiled brat whose family always bails her out. I never have been, and I don't want to be.

I'm pretty much cut off from my family. The don't believe I'm sick, or don't think it matters. I don't think they care, really, they are just tired of dealing with my problems. I am all alone.

Except this time, I really, really need to be bailed out. They have to, right?