Eve

(Spot the optimism. Yes, it’s in there, at least for a little while).

I’m exhausted.
I know I’ve said I enjoy my job, but the way things have played out this way have been unbalanced for all of us. Everyone I work with has had to deal with shortages during the year, and a flood of supply in the last quarter which only increases technical issues and enquiries from our clients, not to mention product substitution and modifications to application conditions and suitability. We’re all hoping that next year will see a more consistent supply of product while our new programs and technical products and services will be fully supported. If my workload stays up where it should, there’s talk of a pseudo-assistant for me which is great news, essentially someone from Customer Service who will set aside their normal duties to help me out when required. They’re awesome in CS, and either of the people we’re looking at will be fantastic.
Excuse the shop-talk.
So over the last year and a half, I’ve learnt that co-ordinator is a title you give to someone when the bulk of their work is ad-hoc, otherwise known as no-one knows how to fix this, you sort it out, and as frustrating as it can be, I’m actually very good at it. Some people need very regimented roles and tasks, and while almost all of my tasks have very clear procedures, the skill is in balancing and constantly re-prioritising them, and finding solutions to new problems. It means that I’m in contact with almost all of our departments on a daily basis, as well as the third-party companies we deal with, the field-staff and often our clients.
On top of this, I still help out Customer Service with technical enquiries on products that aren’t in my product-line because that’s my background before I took on this role. I often speak to end-users when their enquiries exceed standard CS knowledge, and that too is something I often enjoy, though how much depends on how willing the end-user is to listen to what I’m saying.
That’s enough about work for now.

Today I will leave work at either 1 PM, 3 PM or 6 PM.
If all is going well around the country, I’ll leave at 1.
If the field-staff need to have things done before the break, I’ll be here until 6, though I don’t mind, they’re all great people.
When I get home, my sister, her husband and baby Olivia will be waiting for me, and that is just too wonderful.
We’re all going to be together this Christmas, my parents, my sister, her husband and baby, and my brother and his wife. Less of a seasonal observance than a convenient time for us to get together as we do during the year anyway, however for the first time in years we have put up a tree for Olivia’s sake. I can’t wait to see what she thinks of the flashing lights.

This morning in the car I realised that I’ve started coming down, and I’m farther along than I may have first thought.
It always happens this way.
People, doctors always talk about diligence, monitoring, keeping aware. Yeah. Well I tried.
I don’t want to go back on meds though, I just don’t, but I don’t have the energy to explain it to you.
Lithium is bad enough and I’ve begrudgingly kept it going, but Olanzapine and the rest – I don’t know.
The problem is if I end up in hospital, they’ll sedate me and probably inject me with god knows what. At that point, the meds will probably be enforced.
I don’t have a strategy.
I have no idea what I’m going to do.
I’ve given up in trying to stay too aware of anything, it just heightens the paranoia, which just gathers momentum and slingshots me into mania. I have to try and talk about it as much as I can now before I lose the ability to, because sooner or later the way I perceive everything will decay into things that don’t make sense.
I’ve begun re-reading some of my old work in both this diary and my other one which has been quiet of late. It never ceases to amaze me that buried beneath the dark and daunting pieces there always seems to be a flower of romance blooming. I don’t know if I’m in my right mind when I do it, but perhaps it’s a sign that regardless of whatever contortion of perception I’m subject to, hope still exists somewhere in there, and it survives just fine.

You’d think I’d get used to it, but I’m afraid.
It happens like this, I have my suspicions about it, try and be aware of it, but things can accelerate unexpectedly fast, I never know how it’s going to happen.
All I can do is try and brace myself and hope that at some point, I’ll see you on the other side.
There’s so much more I want to say, more about meds and how they are a force that makes me feel divided from my true-self, but that true-self can be a dangerous and sickly creature. It makes me hate the meds and want to kick them, but I know I’m no good without them. The worse I get though, the more strongly I feel about not taking them.
It’s complicated, I don’t have the energy.
Every time I endure this I ask myself how many times I’ll be able to do it, how many times I’ll be able to throw my job in jeopardy, my relationships, my physical health.
The good thing about being ill though is that when I’m in it, I stop thinking like this, it just doesn’t exist anymore.
Talking circles.
It makes less sense than it seems.