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onwriting-hrarby · 1 year ago

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thinking about the commodification of fandom

so given recent experiences i couldn't help but wonder how the creative expressions in fandoms—drawing, writing—have been commodified as of lately, and how this has impacted negatively my way of creating and reading my own creations.

first, there was the change between art and content.

or, how we have begun understanding that we are not artists, but content creators. that's how fans perceive our world and it has to do with the change in social media and neoliberalism, the capitalization of the self and productivism. while media gurus tell us that we need to work hard and harder on what we do—citing steve jobs' autobiography and jeff bezos or elon mush or whoever has become rich and succesful, as seen by a capitalist society—we have forgotten the joy of simply doing things for the sake of it. just like how it's not well seen that we might be in the sofa all day watching series if they are not series that will make our mind broaden, or reading books to make us feel more intelligent, manuals on how to stop procrastinating, it is not well seen that we should dedicate our own time to do something just because we like it if we don't have more ambition than that.

similarly, the people reading fanfiction or watching art don't feel part of a community in which they have to interact because we have been told that we should strive for our own individualistic needs. we should not take responsibility for the feels of others; not assume toxicity in partners (even though we are all toxic in our ways). we have not been told of the power to heal in community, rather, to heal alone. and while the line between staying and staying in toxic environments is very thin, the line still stands. i can have toxic traits and work to make myself better, but i can't hardly have the healing if i'm not interacting with people. so, if art is the thing that threads between this fine line in relationship/community, and in a fine line overall, and we are getting rid of all the nuances, how can someone experience art? if not as something that can be consumed, then tossed out, not even expressing how you feel, because you're supposed to experience all of this in a solitary, individualistic way?

then, the ambition became the commodification of the self.

while the discourse is that we should strive to be the best in what we do, and be successful in what we do, how can we stop not desiring for it? when we are in a community in which the only computable way of knowing what is good and what's not are the ratings, the kudos, the comments: how can we get more and more, and more of that? which brings us to commodify ourselves in social media: a writer that only writes on ao3 and doesn't promote their work can't see the same numbers as someone who's on social media. i am all for promoting your work and talking about your work, don't get me wrong. but there is something inherently capitalistic in doing so, which is, you're not leaving anything to chance. even if this thing doesn't bring you any money and it's just for the fun. it is capitalistic because you as a writer are being exposed in a way that you're interesting. we all crave for authenticity in fandom, but i wonder how much of it it's true, or it's a façade and a new identity that we form around ourselves to appeal to the public of our creations. we are selling our thoughts on fandom, our work, our effort—our graphics, which in my fandom everyone does, me included; our opinions, not because there's something about community but because we understand community as an amount of something. community translates to something else rather than just an exchange. —this, of course, doesn't apply all of the time with all our promotions and all our exchanges—

finally, the commodification of the self and the change to content became self censorship.

which is to say: how can we appeal to the community if we are not offering the content the community does? either we change communities, find other smaller communities that understand us, or we risk to perceive our work as not being meaningful or valuable anymore. because our work is not for us, because we should be successful in what we do, we may be writing what we want but with the changes that we think will appeal to the public. smut sells best: let's write smut, even if it wasn't on our mind; some dark themes can get us cancelled: let's keep it clean and understandable; even if we write smut and dark themes: let's tag the impossible so that there's no mistaking in reading our work and we don't get hate, because god forbid someone actually began reading and could guess how the work is going to go and just left and moved on. we are approaching art the same way a youtuber approaches tags. we are thinking of creating the same way a tiktoker plans their videos. and not all of fanfiction needs to be art—fanfiction should be, inherently, fun—but then we are approaching fun with a commodification and professionalization that doesn't mean fun anymore.

we can be successful in fandom: we can have our promotion tool and our favs and our rts and our ratings; we can get people talking about our work, get the deserved comments—that we wouldn't have gotten because it's only enough to click on the work and leave a kudo maybe—; but even after all our effort we don't get what we're looking for, doesn't translate to anything that we can commodify, we are going to feel empty and meaningless, and it's going to affect our art and how we view it, and we are going to think: next time, i'm going to write something everyone will like.

and that's the problem: nobody, not even you, can tell you what you're going to write next.

(or maybe, after all, i'm just projecting.)

#on fandom #hrarby musings #writing #my writing #fanfiction

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olibavee · 3 years ago

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i keep thinking to myself “and Now...i will play video game” and then i open the video game for a few seconds before force quitting out of it

#liv rambles #i've done it like 7 times since i got up this morning. i need something to do today.#something PRODUCTIV E

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snarkymonkeyprime · 4 years ago

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I just realized I should post it separate:

writing-prompt-s

You managed to retrieve a cursed treasure from a tomb. Instead of spending your newfound wealth, you donate all of it to charity. The spirit that was going to ruin your life now has no idea what to do.

kiriei

@snarkymonkeyprime A DISTRACTION

snarkymonkeyprime

You slag. <3 Sung in the tune of destiel, I’ve decided. demon!dean and scholar!castiel, anyone?

Castiel brushed more dirt away, eyes wide with delight. “My god,” he breathed. “This . . . this -”

“Is rubbish,” Balthazar interrupted. He crouched over Castiel, peering at the object. “It’s yet another vase from yet another doomed kingdom. My word, the way you react you’d think the bloody thing was the grail.”

Castiel glared up at his partner. “And you have no sense of adventure.” He turned back to the find. Balthazar wasn’t wrong, though. It wasn’t anything different from what they’d found over the last month. Beautifully inlaid though.

Rich, shimmering black opal that had managed to survive centuries buried in muddy earth in Scotland. Pricks of scintillating red stone - likely agate - formed an image of a winged creature. Angel?

He tugged on the item and it came free quickly, mud and dirt falling off in clumps.

“It’s . . . stunning,” he sighed, happily. It would be an excellent addition to museum’s collection. He’d been working steadily with the Scottish government to unearth national treasures for the sake of history. Like Balthazar intuited, it was likely nothing more than a bauble. Still, it too would join the other odds and ends currently in storage.

So beautiful, though. He was amazed at how well-preserved it was. It would look perfectly at home in his own office even. It was his imagination that the red stone shimmered like fire and that the opal grew warm under his fingers.

Balthazar rose and stretched, wincing as his back cracked. “Shall we call it? Return tomorrow?”

Castiel glanced around, surprised at the lowered sun. “Oh. Yes, certainly.” He scrambled from his dig site, clutching the new vase. “I’ll hand this off to Gabriel.” He looked around the site, wondering what else they might find. So far, the majority had been old, pitted weapons, coins, and the occasional pottery shard. This was the first whole item they’d found. It would be a stunning centerpiece for the museum.

He carried it with reverence to Gabriel’s tent, handing it off. For a split second, he considered stashing it in his personal bag but the idea soured in his stomach. No, something this beautiful needed to be shared, not hoarded.

Gabriel, for his part, whistled. “Yowza, one piece? Nice work, Cassie.”

He beamed. “It’s a find for sure. I can’t remember the last time I’ve found unbroken pottery.”

The other man nodded, frowning lightly. “Neither have I. Certainly doesn’t look Scottish.” He tilted the vessel. “Greek maybe?” He made a noise. “Almost Roman looking; tile-work is a bit odd though.”

“Certainly possible.” Castiel yawned. “I’ll have to examine it further but it’s likely not originally from this island.” He grabbed his bag and jacket and waved to the two men. “In any event, I’ll be off to my hotel. See you both in the morning.”

He broke away from Balthazar and Gabriel, heading to his rental car and then his hotel. It had been a long - and clearly fruitful - day. All he wanted now was a hot shower and equally hot dinner.

He slid into his car and twisted the key, screaming when a deep voice grumbled, “The hell, man?”

He twisted in his seat, wide-eyed. A man sat in the back of his car. A man wearing jeans and a leather jacket. A very good-looking man who seemed very upset with Castiel.

“Wh-who are you?” He patted himself for his wallet. “I . . . I don’t have much,” he protested.

The man’s green eyes widened and then narrowed. “You gave it away.”

“What?”

Clearly annoyed, the man folded his arms and sat back with a snort. “Unbelievable. What am I supposed to do with that?” He ran a hand through his short brown hair, eyes shifting from green to red to black and then back again. “Freely given breaks the contract; who freakin’ knew?”

“Freely . . . what?” Castiel’s natural curiosity overcame his fright and confusion. “Who are you?” he asked again. He never noticed the man sitting in his car when he’d arrived at the car park. Or had he been ducked down, out of sight? He frowned. Not likely, the car was insanely small and the man was . . . not.

A flash and the man was now in the passenger seat, still scowling. Castiel yelped and pressed against the door though the stranger remained staring resolutely out the window, jaw clenched.

“Unbelievable,” he repeated.

“Um, can I . . . help you?” Castiel prodded, completely lost.

Green eyes shifted to him. “No, because you fucked me over.”

“Eh?”

The man scowled at Castiel again. “You managed to break the goddamn contract. You aren’t supposed to give the damn thing away.”

What in the hell was he talking about? Completely confused, Castiel reached out and poked the man in the cheek. “Oh, you are real,” he murmured.

Green eyes fluttered. “Duh, idiot.” Again that odd red-black flash. “Do you have any idea what you did?”

“No?” Castiel looked around but no one had returned to the carpark. He supposed he could bolt from the car back to Balthazar and Gabriel but frankly, he was too intrigued and confused to move. “You seem to have me at a disadvantage,” he murmured.

“Look. There was one thing you were supposed to do. Keep the vessel and then I got your soul.” He snorted, leaning back with his arms crossed. “This has never happened,” he muttered. “I can’t even . . .” he scratched his head. “I can’t even feel the damn thing now.”

“Do . . . are you talking about the vase?”

The man nodded. “The second you touched it, you woke me. But then you gave it up and now -” he threw up his hands. Then his eyes widened. “Oh shit; I think I’m stuck here.” He patted his chest and legs. “Fuck, am I mortal?”

Castiel squinted and tilted his head. “Are you well? Do you need medication?”

The man looked at him. “What?” He grinned suddenly, eyes crinkling and lips quirking. A very good look for him. “Oh, shit; you don’t have a clue what I am, do you?”

“I think you are an ill man who is confused,” Castiel remarked. He patted his shoulder. “There’s an A&E on the way to my hotel; I can drop you off.”

“No, no; you don’t get it.” The man grabbed Castiel’s jacket collar and pulled him close. “You let me out,” he purred. “You get to deal with me.”

“Let you out of what?” Castiel yelped.

“You let me out of the vase the moment your want manifested. But instead of keeping it, you gave it away and severed my connection to it.” The man’s eyes went dark. His humor suddenly faded. “You . . . you released me.”

“You said that,” Castiel murmured, cautious about distracting the man.

“No,” he breathed. “I mean, you . . . you freed me.” He focused on Castiel then and yanked him forward, kissing him hard.

Castiel’s eyes were painfully wide but the kiss was . . . oh. He had just managed to marshal enough braincells to return the embrace when he was shoved back again and released.

The man grinned, this time in absolute warm relief. “You freed me. I’m not . . . I can’t be commanded anymore.”

“You’re . . . welcome?” Castiel hedged. He touched his lips, the skin still tingling.

He blinked at the hand in his face. He took it gingerly, shaking it once, more out of habit than understanding.

“Call me Dean,” the man purred. He gestured toward the dig site with a jerk of his head. “You’ll find that thing ain’t remotely ancient. I found it at a flea market like an hour ago.”

“What?!”

Dean grinned again. “Look. Demons entrap, right? People dig all over Scotland for old shit so how hard is it to find something that looks old and bury it about a foot deep?” He leaned in and whispered loudly, “Not very.”

Rather than be startled by anything else Dean had said, Castiel groaned. “It’s a fake?”

Dean blinked and then laughed. “That sank in?”

He scowled and then reddened. “Excuse me for having a stake in this.” he blanched when the rest of the conversation caught up. “D-demon?”

Dean winked. “In the flesh.”

Castiel pointed toward the dig site. “You . . . possessed that?” He could remember the pristine look of it. The way it warmed in his hands. He focused on Dean then. “Let me get this straight: you possessed the vase and waited for someone to . . . abscond with it so that you could do the same with their soul?”

“Yup.”

“But then I, gave it up thus . . . severing your connection with the vessel.”

“Uh huh.”

“But - if I believed that - couldn’t you just possess another vase?”

Dean shook his head. “You touched my vessel and connected yourself to me in that instant. When you did possess it, you did the same to me. You gave up the vase and gave me up at the same time. You broke my contract. You severed my servitude to Hell.”

Castiel tilted his head again, noting that Dean’s eyes softened at the action. “No one ever did that? Before today, I mean?”

“Most people aren’t very altruistic.” He poked Castiel in the forehead. “Give people the hint they have a fragment of wealth that can be theirs and theirs alone? Even the pope would turn into a miser.”

“Huh.” Castiel blinked rapidly. So. If Dean was telling the truth, he was a demon who’d intended to devour Castiel’s soul but instead was left drifting in reality. “Huh,” he repeated, sitting back and staring out the window.

“You’re taking this pretty damn well, all things considered.”

Castiel glanced at him. He looked human. Dressed in modern clothing with brown hair and beautiful green eyes. It was the eyes that most captured Castiel. They were wide and deep. Honest. He believed every word Dean was telling him, odd as it all was.

“You’re a demon,” he stated, for clarity.

A grin toyed at Dean’s mouth but he only nodded.

“If you did have a connection to Hell, won’t they be mad?”

Dean shrugged. “Probably? Crowley, the one who’d locked me in, he’ll probably throw up a fuss for a little bit but then again, he always said I was more annoying than helpful.” He grinned. “I wasn’t all that productive on the soul collection department if you get my meaning.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “Not hard to believe,” he murmured, absently.

“Hey!”

He took a deep breath. “Where will you go?”

That startled the demon. He blinked and then looked out the window. “Uh, dunno,” he admitted. He looked at his hands. “Thing is, never thought I’d get free. So . . . got no backup plan,” he admitted.

Castiel mulled it over. He never did like the idea of abandoning someone in need. Even if said someone was truly a demon. He held out his hand toward Dean. “Dean. I am Castiel Novak, archeologist. I have need immediate for an . . . assistant. If you’d care to oblige?”

Dean glanced at the outstretched hand and then back to Castiel. That same, warm honest grin from before. He shook and then leaned back in his seat. “You sure about this, professor?”

Not in the slightest, he admitted. But he’d seen truth in Dean’s warm eyes. And if what had happened was reality, it was his duty to help Dean. He’d found the vase after all. Abandoning Dean after that would make him no better than the damned souls he’d collected over the years.

“Right now, all I’m sure of is that I need dinner.” He smiled at Dean. “Care to join me?”

A grin that quickly shifted into something far hotter. “You bet. By the way, think maybe that assistant gig comes with perks?”

“Such as?” Castiel asked as he pulled out of the lot, glancing once at Dean.

“Oh, like,” he leaned in, nipping Castiel’s earlobe, “more of that kiss?” He slid a hand around Castiel’s thigh. “I’m pretty good at more than that,” he purred.

Castiel shivered and swallowed. “M-maybe,” he rasped. He reached up and planted his hand on Dean’s face, pushing him back. “For now, don’t distract me; I hate driving in Scotland.”

He yelped suddenly when he found himself in the passenger seat, Dean now behind the wheel. He glared. “Don’t do that!”

Dean winked. “Seems I still have a few tricks, professor. Just think how useful I’ll be for you now.”

Castiel’s face went hot. “Maybe I should go get the vase back,” he muttered as Dean jolted the car into traffic.

“Too late!”

Castiel frowned at Dean but hid a smile all the same. Perhaps it was too late for some things. And perfect timing for others.

#demon!dean #scholar!castiel #destiel #spnfic #deancas

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mikroaaurora · 3 years ago

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motivation fuelled by others

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Productivism: "Productivism or growthism is the belief that measurable productivity and growth are the purpose of human organization” I have never been good with being productive, hence my slow work ethic. I can usually stick at doing something for an hour, or if I’m lucky quite a few until I’m forced to stop. I get into a mindset where i'm motivated to start a task but regardless of what it is I usually get sidetracked and distracted around 80 percent of the time.

You would think that I would have leant as I have gotten older, but sadly not. These days I sit in my room scrolling endlessly into a void that consist of opinions and values, nothing that impacts my life, actually I probably waste a decent amount of my day fascinated by what others are doing, or watching others be productive and I curl up on the couch in a blanket.

I find it really hard to be productive, although my motivation is still there it comes alive usually around 11pm at night just before i'm about to go to bed, where I then state to myself all the things that I’m going to do for the next day but then never really get most of those things done. And in the end anyways I don’t get that really good satisfying feeling after I’ve done something anymore like I used to, maybe that’s because the task I do aren’t as big but it just makes me feel less motivated to move on.

To be honest a lot of my motivation is fuelled by others, I literally watch YouTube videos of people being productive and studying to force myself to have the motivation to do things otherwise I would start something get distracted or just burn out after an hour. It sucks, I wish I knew how to motivate myself but I guess it’s just something I need to learn, something that will come as I grow and experience things.

#motivation #productive #homebody #college #journal #journaling

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justphilblog-blog · 4 years ago

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Something, something...

Today was kind of a weird day...i dont know. I didnt write today, neither did I do anything productiv soley for myself. Even though i worked a bit in the garden, which I started doing a few days ago, I dont feel accomplished. It doesnt help that my back hurts pretty much and that makes me feel kind of old. We have this “arrangement” in my famliy that I take care of my little siblings (1yo&3yo) everyday, so that my stepmother can work, but its really hard and i’ve been doing it for a little longer than 2 years. And so far there was no end in sight and i couldnt take care of myself or find a normal job, because I look out for my brother and my sister during normal workinghouers. But then i met this almost perfect girl 10 months ago and were are dating since 9. Its not only my longest but also my maturest and nicest relationship and i could really see us settling down. Someday a few months back we talked about moving together (i know, its really early!). I didnt want to move in with her because I was so sure that this was going to work out, but because i need to get away from my home. And its going to happen this year actually. So congrats, I guess...

Often I feel like its just not enough. Not the moving in thing, but everything. Either I dont do enough, or I dont get enough...or something else. I am always feeling sorry for myself or I am unvorgiving with all of my actions and emotions, but neither in a good way.

Mabey ill wirte some more soon...

#blog #honest #emotional #privat #not private

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christaurman-blog · 5 years ago

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JOIN!

HOME>BEING BIPOLAR & WORKING AROUND IT

Being Bipolar & Working Around It

BY Chris Swingle

15 COMMENTS

13,806

VIEWS

Managing bipolar is a full-time job. No wonder full-time employment can be a challenge. We look at the different ways people deal with that.

By Chris Swingle

For most of his working life, Charles of Florida took pride in his identity as a hard-driving professional. At different times, he ran a jewelry repair shop, directed campaigns for the United Way, and worked around the clock as a political fund-raiser.

“I enjoyed the power and the prestige, and I enjoyed the money,” the 58-year-old says.

That all changed when he hit a wall of depression seven years ago. He couldn’t stop crying. Everything felt threatening. Diagnosed with bipolar disorder, he realized the high energy and workaholic tendency he’d had since his early teens were hypomanic symptoms.

Since then, Charles has been able to manage only slow-paced, part-time work. He puts in about 10 hours a week posting sermons and other information on two church websites.

Financially, “it’s been like falling off a cliff,” he says. No more expensive cars, fine clothes, and vacations in the Caribbean. His savings are gone and he depends on food stamps and government support. On top of that, he’s traveling a long road of redefining himself in terms beyond, “So, what do you do?”

Kathleen, 45, of Connecticut, was diagnosed with bipolar disorder when she became manic during her first year at Harvard Law School. With her degree in hand and her disorder under treatment, she thought representing clients at a legal aid program would be her dream job. Then she was voluntarily hospitalized five times over 18 months for depression. It became obvious that she couldn’t stay in that line of work and stay in balance.

Now she’s thriving in a position with a legal aid hotline, she says, “doing a job I absolutely love.”

Like many people with bipolar disorder, Charles and Kathleen have learned that finding the right employment fit is a key to managing their mood disorder. Solutions vary from individual to individual: switching to a different type of job, scaling back to part-time employment, or taking on volunteer positions as a way to get the structure, socialization and satisfaction provided by work.

There’s nothing really wrong with being a ‘Type B’ person. It’s just different for me.

Multiple studies have found that a majority of people with bipolar don’t hold a paid job. In an analysis of work functioning that appeared in the February-March 2007 issue of Bipolar Disorders, Canadian researchers phrased it this way: “Employment rates are relatively low in this patient population.”

The heightened creativity and energy of hypomania can lead to distractibility and ultimate loss of productivity, while full-blown mania may cause a worker to become disruptive, aggressive and prone to errors in judgment.

And research suggests the fatigue, irritability, and inability to concentrate in a depressive phase can hurt job performance even more. A review of nine studies involving more than 3,000 people, published online on August 6, 2012 in the Journal of Affective Disorders, found that cognitive deficits and depressive symptoms were predictive of unemployment.

Yet quite apart from economic necessity, work can be a major factor in our sense of self and how others see us. Many people go through a grief process when they have to stop working because of a mental health crisis, says Larry Kohn, MS, of the Center for Psychiatric Rehabilitation at Boston University.

“It’s hard letting go,” agrees Charles, who misses the prestige he felt in his former high-powered pursuits. It’s only recently that he’s been able to tell himself, “There’s nothing really wrong with being a ‘Type B’ person. It’s just different for me.”

He’s trying to change his focus from what he’s missing in his life to what he can accomplish now. For example, he used his marketing and advertising skills to help raise more funds at his church’s fall festival. In consultation with his psychologist and other trusted advisors, he’s also looking into creating a part-time project that would protect his own mental health while he helps other people with mental disorders find work.

While he still needs to be able to adjust his schedule depending on his bipolar symptoms, he says, “I hope to find satisfaction and a sense of myself doing something worthwhile.”

Am I what I do?

Katherine, also had to make peace with the fact that part-time work and volunteering are all she can manage right now. In dialectical behavioral therapy she learned a technique called “radical acceptance,” which helps her let go of things she can’t change.

When she first lost a job nine years ago because she had trouble concentrating, she was devastated.

“Numbers were always my thing. To know my numbers had failed me or I had failed the numbers, was something I never dreamed would happen,” says Katherine, who lives in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. “I felt like an idiot—and I’m a very intelligent woman.”

Katherine had handled 50 hours a week as the bookkeeper and buyer for a seafood store. She was also helping her husband out with a pest control business they started together in 1994. Then her marriage fell apart and maniastruck, disrupting her accuracy and ability to focus.

For two years, she and her boss tried various accommodations: different shifts, fewer hours and responsibilities, having her work from home. In the end, her accuracy hadn’t improved enough for her to keep the job and they parted ways amicably.

There’s nothing really wrong with being a ‘Type B’ person. It’s just different for me.

There were several stumbles as Katherine learned to mesh employment with managing her bipolar. She had to take several months’ leave from her next job, a part time position as a medical clerk. Back in the workplace, putting in 24 hours a week or more, she was easily thrown off balance.

“Even the ringing of a phone behind me would throw me off. I wouldn’t know where I was in the work, or in the building,” she recalls.

Mary Ann, a consultant based in Waterdown, Ontario, develops workplace plans with people who have experienced mental illness and are trying to stay in professional-level jobs or transition back to work after a leave. She says research has found that whether people can return to work after disability leave depends on their mental health (including recovery from symptoms), whether they have coping strategies for stressors, and whether workplace issues that may have contributed to the episode have been resolved.

She recommends putting the plan in writing so that the employer knows what the employee needs to stay productive at work and what steps to take if the worker has performance or behavioral problems in the future. This doesn’t require disclosing a diagnosis because it focuses exclusively on workplace issues and solutions, she says.

If a supervisor is aware of the diagnosis, Mary Ann says, the employee could choose to include warning signs of an impending mental health crisis and what personal contact or practitioner to call. If an employee has a company car and credit card, the plan could indicate when those should be withheld in case an employee’s judgment is impaired.

Of course, not everyone is comfortable sharing mental health issues with the boss. Some employees confide only in a trusted co-worker who’s willing to point out when behavior is shifting. Others keep their diagnosis to themselves and do their own monitoring at work and at home.

“The main thing I talk to people about is this concept of taking one’s own temperature,” says Boston University’s Kohn. A mood episode “doesn’t have to be some freaky thing that comes on and you’re at the mercy of it like a storm.”

Look for changes in your sleep, socialization, eating and spending habits, he advises. Notice if you’re having negative incidents with other people. Then use skills and supports—people, places, things or activities you turn to—to help you get back to an even keel.

Swisher has figured out through trial and error that working 15 hours a week is her maximum…. Her advice: Know or learn what your limits are. LEVEL BEST (right) Representing legal-aid clients wasn’t a good fit for lawyer Kathleen Flaherty, but she’s been “hospital-free” in a more flexible position at a hotline.

When it’s necessary to take a medical leave, Kohn says, transitioning back with part-time work can be “a great way to get your sea legs. To go from no work to 40 hours a week can be a shock to the system.”

Katherine has figured out through trial and error that working 15 hours a week is her maximum. More than that and her moods cycle rapidly, her behavior becomes irrational, and she can’t concentrate. Her advice: “Know or learn what your limits are. And have a solid support system.”

With exercise, volunteer work, and a positive attitude contributing to her recovery, Katherine has patched together a blend of small jobs that allow her to maintain equilibrium. She manages a four-unit apartment building, which takes anywhere from one to eight hours a week. She assists a 90-year-old neighbor with rides and chores. She receives disability benefits, which limits additional earnings to around $1,000 a month.

When Katherine qualified for disability, she says, she initially felt worthless. It helped when someone told her she’d been paying for Social Security Disability Insurance (SSDI), which is funded through payroll taxes, since she began working at age 15.

Even if you’re in a position that you can’t work now, it doesn’t mean you’re not ever going to be able to work.

Still, she’s had to adjust to living on a third of the income she once had. She brings the lessons of radical acceptance to her new lifestyle, where a broken appliance requires careful juggling of her budget. “It takes me a long time to save for things,” she says.

On the job

Sometimes small changes at work can allow an employee to remain reliable and productive. Someone who struggles to concentrate can benefit from written job instructions or being able to tape-record instructions and meetings, says Len Statham, an employment and economic self-sufficiency specialist for the New York state Association of Psychiatric Rehabilitation Services.

“These are very small things,” he notes, but for countless people, “they’ve been job savers.”

Reasonable workplace accommodations for a mental disability—required in Canada under each province’s Human Rights Act and in the United States by the federal Americans with Disabilities Act— could include having a quieter or more brightly lit work space, taking several short breaks rather than one long one, or having flexible hours in order to attend therapy sessions.

Flaherty, the Connecticut lawyer, copes with her 35-hour work week by building health-enhancing habits into the day. She uses part of her hour-long lunch break to either take a walk outside with co-workers or nap in her office with a pillow and a blanket.

It hasn’t always been smooth sailing. There was a period at the hotline when she would take one call and then need a break, overwhelmed by the urge to flee. She persisted until those strong feelings faded and she could function normally.

As a support group facilitator with the National Alliance on Mental Illness, Flaherty has seen how different jobs suit different people. Some like a more rigid, predictable situation, while others like a mix of activities. The flexibility of working from home could be a perfect solution for one individual while another would find it too isolating.

Kohn agrees that it’s impossible to generalize about the “right” type of work for someone with bipolar. He points out that a job that might seem low in stress could be nerve-racking if it comes with a grumpy, micromanaging boss.

Above all, says Flaherty, don’t despair if it takes time to find the right solution for you.

“Even if you’re in a position that you can’t work now, it doesn’t mean you’re not ever going to be able to work,” she says. “You still have an identity and you’re still a person if you don’t have a job.”

* * * * *

Putting disability to good use

Regina, says she left “some serious jobs” during bouts of depression or unrecognized mania. She made an abrupt departure from a national magazine where she was a celebrity interviewer. She impulsively quit “a good government job” with the U.S. Treasury Department.

“Nobody quits those, right?” the 57-year-old asks quizzically.

Although she picked up freelance work between her steady jobs, her finances inevitably took a hit. “It was tough because I often didn’t have [health] insurance … and the work wasn’t steady,” she says.

While doing contract work with the Social Security Administration in 2004, she learned about a program that encourages federal agencies to hire people with disabilities. It was an “Aha!” moment, but there was one hitch: She would have to be declared “disabled.”

“I ruminated about it for about eight months,” she says. “I didn’t know if I wanted to designate myself as such.” Financial need won out. Regina went through her state vocational organization and her psychiatrist to be approved, then pursued a job through the U.S. Office of Personnel Management’s Schedule A.

Regina has been a public affairs specialist with the government for the past eight years. It helps that start times for the work day are flexible, her duties aren’t overwhelming, and her supervisor overlooks the occasional out-of-bounds remark.

“I tell myself that no matter how badly I want to quit, I simply can’t,” she says. “And if I were to do it impulsively, I might now have more recourse due to my documented disability.”

Taking a step back to move forward

Curtis, of Alberta, (not pictured) was diagnosed with bipolar I when heavy depression and a manic phase disrupted his college studies in electrical engineering. With treatment, he was able to return to university, graduate, and find work as an engineer.

Unfortunately, his job involved daily meetings with anywhere from 3 to 20 people. His anxious dread in those meetings got so bad he ended up quitting.

To address his anxiety, he followed his psychologist’s advice to exercise regularly and practiced derailing his negative self-talk. He grew confident enough to apply for another engineering job, but before his final interview he was nailed by depression. He realized he couldn’t go back to his chosen field until he had his illness under better control.

In the meantime, his doctor suggested finding less stressful employment. “I think he wanted me to enter the work force at a level where I would not feel overwhelmed,” says Curtis.

Curtis had worked as a pipe layer and handled stock at a department store, so he was comfortable swapping his white-collar career for blue collar jobs in a warehouse, a liquor store, and a grocery store.

“All of the jobs I’ve had have benefited me in ways I would not

have expected,” he says. For example, the retail work gave him more exposure to dealing with the public.

He also joined Toastmasters to further improve his social skills and ability to be in front of groups. He tracks symptoms in a daily journal and seeks help if he sees red flags several days in a row. With his new skills and tools, he says, he feels ready to move back into engineering.

Salvaging her self-worth

Three years into her high-stress job as a negotiator for a labor union, Kimberly S. of, Ontario, went out on leave because of a major depressive crash. It was the first of “many shorter leaves” over the next decade, she says.

She would generally take from one to six months off to recover, then return to the same long hours and demanding responsibilities. (An attempt to give her a “special assignment” backfired, she says, because having more down time allowed her anxiety to spiral.)

Her last leave started in 2006—and she hasn’t been back. Her psychiatrist told her she shouldn’t attempt to work again

“This left me believing I was ‘useless’ to society,” says Kimberly, 47. “That turns out to be far from true.”

Kimberly has found purpose and satisfaction through volunteering. Knowing that she fills a need, whether as an usher at her church on Sunday or answering phones for her 12-step program one afternoon a week, fends off feelings of worthlessness that can be toxic for her.

“I have many skills and talents and I needed to find a way to put those skills to use,” she says. “I’ve learned that I need to contribute to society to feel whole.”

She still has to be careful not to overcommit, especially when she’s hypomanic and ready to take on the world. “The trick for me has been learning how much is too much for me,” she notes. “I’ve had to learn to say, ‘No, I can’t.’ My full-time job is managing my illness.”

* * * * *

Printed as “What WORK Works for You?”Winter 2013

DEPRESSION, DISABILITY, MANIA, RECOVERY, SLEEP, WINTER 2013, WORK

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Chris Swingle

Chris Swingle is a freelance writer based in Brighton, New York, who has covered health issues for years.

15 COMMENTS

Bipolar Di June 11, 2017 at 12:46 am

I was 56 when my psychiatrist suggested I quit my customer service job. After leaving that company, I worked as a temp for a few months more but came to the realization I needed to get out of the work force.

I applied for SSDI and was approved 3 months later. I applied for Vocational Rehabilitation but when I started working with my counselor it became very clear I wasn’t ready to return to work.

It was really hard to accept I wasn’t employable. I’d held down deadline driven jobs with lots of responsibility and done well at them. Now I wasn’t able to do data entry!

When speaking to folks, I say I took early retirement. I volunteer as a museum docent and teach crafts to developmentally adults. As a recovering alcoholic, I attend 12 step meetings. That is my small way of giving back to society for the financial assistance I receive.

Between my current age (63) and my mental health issues, I’ve accepted that a “regular” job isn’t in my future. I have a goal to start a blog and to start some freelance writing.

V June 6, 2017 at 9:45 am

I always find it strange when my Psychiatrist says “are you working at the moment?” Why wouldn’t I be? I appreciate that everyone is different and has different symptoms. I’ve had periods of absence but in the main have worked continuously since I was 16. I’m now 41. At times it would be great to be part time and would help me manage a bit better, but bills have to be paid.

For me working with very supportive colleagues in a low stress environment seems to be working. I may need to rest a lot outwith work at times, but its manageable.

Scout June 5, 2017 at 7:26 pm

Exactly where I am in my life. Quit my job 6 months ago, which felt like I quit my life, and trying to do freelance work but it’s not coming in as I hoped. Apart from money issues I also feel a bit worthless and not grounded.

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