First Posted: 3/5/2013
“I’m not bipolar! I’m unemployed! There’s a difference!”
I screamed at my mother as I slammed my bedroom door. It was only 8 p.m., but I forced myself to sleep to stop arguing with her.
The next morning, I woke up to my phone ringing. It was a friend calling me at 7:03 a.m. WTF?!
“Get your ass up we r goin 2 the gym,” they texted after I ignored the call.
“I’m already out for a run,” I replied, lying with an excuse to make me sound less lazy for wanting more than 11 hours of sleep.
“Liarrrr. It’s so cold,” they texted back.
I looked outside. There was no snow on the ground, so my excuse was still viable.
I looked online to discover it was 39 degrees. He was right. I wouldn’t run in 39 degree weather.
To keep up with my lie, I posted a photo on Facebook of a bird by the beach, perched on two slabs of wood that read “WAKE UP AND LIVE” with the caption, “Starting my Friday off w/ a morning run in the cold outdoors, because I’m alive and I might as well feel it. Boom!”
Meanwhile, I lay in bed wearing a winter hat and my summer camp hoodie above the waist but nothing below the waste. Staring at my profile for 28 minutes, impressed that 17 people liked the photo so early in the morning, I realized something was off. Maybe my mom was right. Maybe I’m bipolar. It would explain why I’m a mess.
I mean, a few years ago, I was on the right path, interning for E! and Jimmy Kimmel, being cast on a primetime reality show that sent me to Tokyo for six weeks. How did I end up half-naked, unemployed, and living with my parents?
I quickly Googled bipolar disorder. As I read WebMD, I realized these weren’t symptoms of a mental illness – they were symptoms of being young and unemployed!
Sleeplessness? You’d stay awake for two days straight looking for a job if you had to move back with your parents, too. Manic highs/lows? One minute you feel amazing because you think you landed a job, the next you hide in your room for two days because you didn’t. Erratic behavior? Bringing a marching band to apply for a job sounds nuts, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
So I’m sorry, Mom and Dad, if I’m happy one minute and angry the next, or if I sleep for two days straight. It’s not because I’m bipolar. I’m unemployed. There’s a difference.
