It’s no secret that I suffer from seasonal affective disorder. The darkness that dangles over wintertime, in combo with the cold, leads to a depression that hovers over me throughout the season, exacerbating my bipolar symptoms. Surviving winter is like trudging through thick, deep mud, slowly but surely, your shoes getting stuck with every step. Like that time at Lollapalooza when it was raining bats and frogs hardcore during Foo Fighters’ set and I was standing on the outfield of a baseball diamond, cold, shoes halfway submerged.
Yesterday was the first day of spring! And springing forward is one of my favorite times of year. It means that it doesn’t get fully dark until around 7:30 instead of 6:30. It means that the promise of spring will soon be fulfilled. And while temperatures here in Chicago are still lingering in the high 30s, I know it will soon be T-shirt weather.
I don’t know if it was the light of day growing stronger that did it, or the new medication regimen I’m on, but I recently lifted myself out of an abysmal depression.
It’s amazing how one turn of events can leave you crestfallen. Around early February, I was feeling like the AA Promises were finally coming true for me. I celebrated seven years sobriety — lucky seven. I settled on June 21 as a release date for The Bipolar Addict. Spring was coming. And I got a dream job at the cool new record store that opened up in my neighborhood, around the corner from me no less.
But I made a mistake on the second day of work. A mistake that was unforgivable. I got fired. My boss phoned me to say “It’s not gonna work out.”
Apparently with this store, one strike and you’re out. I got a haircut the other day, and my stylist told me that I dodged a bullet, that a boss that would fire someone after one mistake would be an awful person to work for. He’s probably right. I’ve never been fired from a job until now. At my last day-job at a bakery inside a grocery store, I even got an award for outstanding customer service.
However, this single turn of events — the firing coupled with the darkness — left me stone-cold depressed and anxious with never-ending obsessive thoughts. I couldn’t stop thinking about the mistake I made and the consequence.
I’ve always wanted to work at a record store ever since I set foot in one as a kid. It is my happy place. If you know me, you know that music is my greatest passion above all else in my life. It is my higher power in AA.
Albeit briefly, working at the record store was great fun. I was having a jolly time talking music with the owner and the other employees. We took turns spinning records. I spun a rare Jimi Hendrix record, ‘50s surf rockers The Ventures’ Greatest Hits, and new-wave band Devo’s Q: Are We Not Men A: We Are Devo.
Mostly I organized the vinyl. So I never ended up behind the register, but I was looking forward to chatting up the customers, and I was genuinely interested in what people were buying.
I pleaded for my job in a follow-up text to the boss, only to be met with “My decision is firm” — a phrase that constantly echoed through my brain several days as I lay in bed trying to get to sleep.
When the store first opened, I shopped there several times, scored some rare vinyl, and was looking forward to constantly record hunting there going forward. Now I take a detour when I go to Walgreens so as not to pass the record store. I refuse to go back, even though it would be the perfect spot to snag some goodies on Record Store Day.
But in the blink of an eye, my record store job evaporated. I went into mourning. I could feel the depression in my body. A heaviness weighed on my brain as always with my depression.
One Sunday I ended up crying hysterically on the phone with my dad. When it died down to sobbing, I texted my psychiatrist, who said he would fit me in for an appointment the next morning. I take lithium, and I had a blood test to measure its levels in my body. Lithium can be toxic if there is too much in your bloodstream. Luckily my level was low, so my doc doubled my dose. I also went to see my psychopharmacologist, who also decided to put me on a new antidepressant — Wellbutrin — along with the Prozac I’m already on.
Usually meds take a long time to have an effect. But my new medication regimen kicked in almost instantly and lifted me out of the depression. The greater degree of sunlight helped too. Now I still regret what happened at the record store and I wish it didn’t happen, but it’s not dominating my thoughts throughout the day.
I’m still looking for a day job and plan to print out a bunch of resumes and stop into various stores on the main drag in my neighborhood. High hopes for snagging another cool new job. I’m also promoting my book, which is already available for preorder.
I will have a happy springtime and summer. My decision is firm.
Such a great column….thanks for sharing your insights and feelings…. Psychiatrist was correct….if the guy fires you for one mistake ….not worth it….because that represents a level of immaturity that is unfathomable…..