Work is tough. Work is even tougher when you are a workaholic and a work/life balance doesn’t really exist.
It’s work, yet I find myself volunteering for extra hours and working shows whenever I can. I’m running on a half tank of energy, summoning what I have left for the hordes of rock fans I’ll see in a few hours. At 9 p.m., I’ll be in bed and this 12-hour day will be over. I worked 12 hours yesterday too.
Overall, my mind feels healthy. I’ve been eating very healthy, taking my meds, keeping up with my B6 regiment and drinking water. I’ve been reading everyday. I haven’t written in my journal and I really should. I’ve been maintaining my hygiene routine, including my four-step skincare process. I know it’s gross, but depression makes you not maintain your hygiene. I live in NY and summers are more brutal than people think. Hygiene is so, so important, especially in this time of year.
My job brings routine and stability. I’m lucky enough to have a boss who is very supportive of my emotional hurdles and works hard to keep me going. I’ve kept my job for almost a year and a half, longer than I’ve ever kept anything. I’m proud of myself for sticking with this and forcing myself to stick through some of the really gnarly times that come with working in the news business. Because my job is stability, I know I can get through the days.
I know so many people with mental illness aren’t able to keep a job because their illness prevents them from functioning. I’m lucky; even at the worst, I’ve somehow been able to get up and go to work. I think much of it has to do with how much I truly love my job and where I work. Also, I have so many people relying on me. It’s a nice feeling to know you make a difference and people appreciate you. As someone who strives from positive reinforcement, I can’t think of a better reason to keep going than what pays my bills and keeps me grounded.
Whether you are employed or not, I urge you to find what makes you tick and pursue it. I encourage you to find what lights you up and try to make it so you get a dose of it daily. Even on the weekends, when I feel lazy, I know I’ll be going to work. I hate calling in sick; I feel guilty. I never understood how much this place has kept me sane until I came out of the latest coma and saw what I accomplished in the fog. I did fine. You will too.