The precariousness the author describes is real, at least in my experience. I'm 20 years into a career that many would find enviable except strangely devoid of any tenures longer than about 30 months, because that's the longest I've been able to surf my bipolar swings before imploding. Those meltdowns traditionally resulted in me running away from work to fall into a boozy depressive mess for six months, them returning once the mania kicked in again.
This year, a low coincided with the onset of COVID lockdown and I put myself in the hospital. Not checked myself in: I tried to hurt myself badly enough to be in the ER, ICU, and then inpatient psych care.
Even there, I was the "eloquent, self-reflective" model patient, much like I've been (in the manic times) the persuasive, thoughtful, creative employee that people couldn't wait to hire and promote.
After a couple of months of medical leave I went back to my previous job instead of quitting. It was driven largely by financial insecurity, as I had burned through my savings after not working at all in 2019...once again, due to being in a low phase _and_ getting sober and having no bandwidth left for anything else.
Being back to work at a place that has seen me swing from "A+ performer, definite strong leadership/promotion track, etc." to "can I keep a job, any job here? Ideally one that won't demand more than 40 hours a week of my time?" is far harder than jumping into an impossible workload while manic. Grinding out yet another week full of stand-ups and PRs when I have zero confidence is gut-wrenching, and on top of it all I have to be there and stable and not a depressive mess for my family, because I can't let them take care of me while the world outside is on fire.
All I want to do is get on my bike and ride for six hours a day, then cook dinner for my family, then do a little programming and writing before I go to bed. Literally, that's it.
Unfortunately, that's not a lifestyle I can sustain, even if I suspect it might be the thing that would keep me alive past 40. So it's back to work, taking my meds every day, and lying through my teeth when folks ask how I'm doing.
This year, a low coincided with the onset of COVID lockdown and I put myself in the hospital. Not checked myself in: I tried to hurt myself badly enough to be in the ER, ICU, and then inpatient psych care.
Even there, I was the "eloquent, self-reflective" model patient, much like I've been (in the manic times) the persuasive, thoughtful, creative employee that people couldn't wait to hire and promote.
After a couple of months of medical leave I went back to my previous job instead of quitting. It was driven largely by financial insecurity, as I had burned through my savings after not working at all in 2019...once again, due to being in a low phase _and_ getting sober and having no bandwidth left for anything else.
Being back to work at a place that has seen me swing from "A+ performer, definite strong leadership/promotion track, etc." to "can I keep a job, any job here? Ideally one that won't demand more than 40 hours a week of my time?" is far harder than jumping into an impossible workload while manic. Grinding out yet another week full of stand-ups and PRs when I have zero confidence is gut-wrenching, and on top of it all I have to be there and stable and not a depressive mess for my family, because I can't let them take care of me while the world outside is on fire.
All I want to do is get on my bike and ride for six hours a day, then cook dinner for my family, then do a little programming and writing before I go to bed. Literally, that's it.
Unfortunately, that's not a lifestyle I can sustain, even if I suspect it might be the thing that would keep me alive past 40. So it's back to work, taking my meds every day, and lying through my teeth when folks ask how I'm doing.