Today I've been stuck thinking about my rather episodic work history. Like many people who have bipolar, I have worked during the good phases and not worked during the bad ones.
For many years, I blamed it on not studying a in-demand field in college (I was an English major). I also blamed it on the job market at the time, on the attitude of other employees, on the incompetence of managers, on the stupidity of customers. As the years went by, I realized that I worked best when left alone most of the time, with a structured schedule, trusted to meet deadlines on my own. I had one job that I did well and lasted four years at, until my supervisor left. The new one didn't know what she wanted, but knew that I wasn't it. That was twenty years ago, and I still miss that job.
I am incredibly fortunate that my husband, who understands my disorder, supports me, but it often scares me that I am one relationship away from having no financial support and no insurance. My mother, who also had bipolar and was in an often unhappy marriage, tried hard to raise me to not be dependent on any man. And here I am, just as she was - the only difference is that my marriage is a stable one. But hey - I guess for a person with bipolar, that alone is a major accomplishment.