#1 ·
Even though I changed my handle, there's a good chance some of the old-timers or regular visitors here will recognize me sooner or later. Honestly, I don't really care. I want to keep my profile low, but if people figure out who I am, oh well...
What’s the big deal? I was always that kid—quiet, introverted, and zero interest in the whole high school party scene. I just assumed I’d find my way through academic success, both in high school and college. The college I picked was pretty tough, but getting in was actually a breeze because you could basically just cram a specific set of practice questions and call it a day. Back then, it felt like the path of least resistance. To be honest, I went for it because I didn't have the confidence to aim for something more competitive, like architecture or pharmacy, where kids from all over the country apply. At the time, it felt terrifying—how could a kid from some random small town in the Midwest compete with the geniuses from the top prep schools in Chicago or New York? Looking back, I see how much I undersold myself, but whatever...
So, my college years rolled on. I did relatively well, working side jobs whenever my schedule allowed since I didn't have many responsibilities. My main goal was just to grind through it as fast as possible so I could stop being a burden to my parents. I traveled quite a bit too, saw some great parts of Europe, and enjoyed the perks of being a student (even if I still wasn't much of a social butterfly). Everything changed once I graduated. Suddenly, the core pillar of my life—being a student—was gone. I found myself bouncing between odd student jobs under other people's contracts, essentially stalling my career for a year because I felt like I wasn't ready for the real world...
Then, reality hit. I landed my first "real" job in my field, and I actually wasn't bad at it. It was with a major corporation, but that's where things went south. Under massive stress and dealing with some poorly chosen medication from my psychiatrist, I finally snapped. I ended up being hospitalized with a psychotic disorder. At the time, it didn't even feel that scary, aside from certain moments. I just told myself, "Okay, this happened." Everyone hits rock bottom sometimes; life goes on. I figured this would just be one weird chapter in my biography. (I should mention that during college, I dealt with two heavy bouts of depression triggered by heartbreak and the pressure of school...) Needless to say, after being out on medical leave for nearly six months, the company gave me the boot and didn't renew my contract.
I moved back home and spent some time working in an office for a family friend who was understanding about my situation. Over the next four years, I had three more relapses that required hospitalization. The diagnoses jumped around between schizoaffective and bipolar disorder—take your pick. I survived it all. Being in those wards wasn't as terrifying as an outsider might think. There was plenty of joking around, laughing, crying, frustration, smoking, and hanging out in the city. We made some solid friends. Since we were in an open ward, it felt a bit like a chaotic dorm. Eventually, my friend couldn't keep me on staff indefinitely, so I left the job and ended up unemployed. 2016 was spent prepping for professional exams, dealing with another hospital stay, and burning through my savings. Looking back, I was incredibly stupid; I was smoking three packs a day and probably blew through $3,000 just on cigarettes alone.
Fast forward to 2017: I found a temporary gig in local government. I stayed there for a year before switching jobs at the start of this year. The problem is, this new job is anything but fulfilling or dynamic. And the pay? Don't even get me started. It’s not that I’m craving the soul-crushing stress I had at my old jobs, but I could use a little excitement. Now, I’ve landed a permanent position, and honestly, it scares the hell out of me. Part of me still wants to pack up and move somewhere else—somewhere with a more stable system where you can succeed based solely on your own merit. But I'm also terrified of what happens if I have another relapse. On top of that, I'm exhausted. I can never seem to truly rest. If anyone has any advice, please throw it my way. I'm already losing my mind!!🙂
What’s the big deal? I was always that kid—quiet, introverted, and zero interest in the whole high school party scene. I just assumed I’d find my way through academic success, both in high school and college. The college I picked was pretty tough, but getting in was actually a breeze because you could basically just cram a specific set of practice questions and call it a day. Back then, it felt like the path of least resistance. To be honest, I went for it because I didn't have the confidence to aim for something more competitive, like architecture or pharmacy, where kids from all over the country apply. At the time, it felt terrifying—how could a kid from some random small town in the Midwest compete with the geniuses from the top prep schools in Chicago or New York? Looking back, I see how much I undersold myself, but whatever...
So, my college years rolled on. I did relatively well, working side jobs whenever my schedule allowed since I didn't have many responsibilities. My main goal was just to grind through it as fast as possible so I could stop being a burden to my parents. I traveled quite a bit too, saw some great parts of Europe, and enjoyed the perks of being a student (even if I still wasn't much of a social butterfly). Everything changed once I graduated. Suddenly, the core pillar of my life—being a student—was gone. I found myself bouncing between odd student jobs under other people's contracts, essentially stalling my career for a year because I felt like I wasn't ready for the real world...
Then, reality hit. I landed my first "real" job in my field, and I actually wasn't bad at it. It was with a major corporation, but that's where things went south. Under massive stress and dealing with some poorly chosen medication from my psychiatrist, I finally snapped. I ended up being hospitalized with a psychotic disorder. At the time, it didn't even feel that scary, aside from certain moments. I just told myself, "Okay, this happened." Everyone hits rock bottom sometimes; life goes on. I figured this would just be one weird chapter in my biography. (I should mention that during college, I dealt with two heavy bouts of depression triggered by heartbreak and the pressure of school...) Needless to say, after being out on medical leave for nearly six months, the company gave me the boot and didn't renew my contract.
I moved back home and spent some time working in an office for a family friend who was understanding about my situation. Over the next four years, I had three more relapses that required hospitalization. The diagnoses jumped around between schizoaffective and bipolar disorder—take your pick. I survived it all. Being in those wards wasn't as terrifying as an outsider might think. There was plenty of joking around, laughing, crying, frustration, smoking, and hanging out in the city. We made some solid friends. Since we were in an open ward, it felt a bit like a chaotic dorm. Eventually, my friend couldn't keep me on staff indefinitely, so I left the job and ended up unemployed. 2016 was spent prepping for professional exams, dealing with another hospital stay, and burning through my savings. Looking back, I was incredibly stupid; I was smoking three packs a day and probably blew through $3,000 just on cigarettes alone.
Fast forward to 2017: I found a temporary gig in local government. I stayed there for a year before switching jobs at the start of this year. The problem is, this new job is anything but fulfilling or dynamic. And the pay? Don't even get me started. It’s not that I’m craving the soul-crushing stress I had at my old jobs, but I could use a little excitement. Now, I’ve landed a permanent position, and honestly, it scares the hell out of me. Part of me still wants to pack up and move somewhere else—somewhere with a more stable system where you can succeed based solely on your own merit. But I'm also terrified of what happens if I have another relapse. On top of that, I'm exhausted. I can never seem to truly rest. If anyone has any advice, please throw it my way. I'm already losing my mind!!🙂