Let every man be occupied, and occupied in the highest employment of which his nature is capable, and die with the consciousness that he has done his best.
- Sydney Smith

I recently had a somewhat demoralizing visit with my psychiatrist. The plan was to ask him where I stood in regards to getting a job, and perhaps get some ideas from him what kind of work might best suit me. What I got is just further example for why I detest surprises, as he informed me that I should not seek employment, that he felt it would overtax me and cause the bipolar disorder to worsen. I’ve already been out of the daily grind for a couple years now, and wasn’t expecting to dive right back into it. What I’d hoped for was to get the green light to pick up a part-time job somewhere, but my psychiatrist’s recommendation was that I continue to allow my wife to be the bread-winner, and focus myself on doing housework and establishing a strong daily routine. I will talk with my therapist tomorrow about this, and see if there are other options I haven’t yet discovered.

I would say right now my mind is in real conflict with the desire to somehow rebel against my illness and medical advice, to get a job and force myself to rise back to levels of productivity I knew in my past; and then there is the more stoic voice in my mind, telling me that this is where I’m at now, that these are the cards I’ve been dealt, and that I need to make the most of where I’m at. Either try to be my best based on pre-illness terms, which I may not realistically be able to do; or be my best based on the terms dictated to me by this illness, something I can’t do while trying to rebel against the bipolar disorder. It’s a conflict of two different perspectives on doing one’s best, and it’s tearing me apart.