Irony of Irony

This has been a terrible week for me. I keep saying that, and really I won't say that every day that I ever write on this thing, but this week really has been bad. My sleeping, which is never even remotely normal, has turned into near torture this week, with 45 minute chunks of sleep separated by awake periods, difficulty falling asleep, and exhaustion. I stayed home from work one day to sleep, which helped somewhat, but I am still very tired and facing another night of probably uneven sleep. I am waking to items thrown around my bedroom, blankets and sheets on the floor, laundry baskets knocked over, and an angry cat. This is not restful.

It is always hard to work during these times. There are obvious reasons, like I'm tired. Plus my job requires me to be extremely patient with severely mentally disabled adults, and it can be very hard to be patient with someone who is being mean to your face when you are exhausted. In fact one of my rules for myself is that when I snap at a patient in any way I need to think about whether I am too tired to be working. At times it can also be emotionally draining to be in situations where I am providing support and education about living a life with a disability. Currently I am helping a young man around the same age as I was when I was diagnosed come to terms with the need to set goals for his altered life, which is very different than his plans. I speak oh so generally of my own losses, and he doesn't know how deep they cut, and the emotions run deep for me. Yet I'm finding a special talent for these discussions, one I'm growing after a few years of experience in this specialty.

However, during the hard times those things are so much harder. I routinely find myself wanting to scream "I KNOW!!!!!" and to reveal much more about my own illness than I really want known. People accuse me of "caring too much" when they just have no clue. I have been known to make sharp comments under my breath when something was attributed to "just being how a schizophrenic is" or "they..." comments which try to establish lines between the "normal" staff and the patients. This time though, it's not been patient relationships that has hurt so much.

This week my greatest challenge has been anger and impatience with a co-worker who is having personal problems and her own psychiatric issues and is not dealing with them. Her life is miserable, she is making life miserable for all those around her, and I am very angry with her. My anger has a lot to do with my own need to strictly be responsible for myself all the time. I don't get to be rude just because I feel bad; if I feel bad I go take a pill, and if I can't see I need one a friend knows to tell me to take one and also knows where to get it in an emergency. As a bipolar if I am to succeed I must be responsible all the time, from the day I managed to diagnose myself because the doctor I was seeing then was an idiot, to the day I realized I needed serious help and got myself to the best doctor in the country immediately, to taking meds that make me sick and fat and tired, to taking time off. And so-called normal people are apparently allowed to act out as much as they want. I made my company aware of my illness long ago, and I needed to. If I did what this co-worker does I would be asked to take time off. I am so angry that being irresponsible about personal problems seems to buy leeway to continue to behave inappropriately.