Why I go to work when I have bipolar depression

Last November I was drowning in the darkest depression of my life.  Getting out of bed each morning felt like pushing an elephant off my chest.  And why even bother?  So I could mope around my apartment, steeped in suicidal thoughts like a rancid tea bag?

 I felt like a useless sack of dung.  A disgrace to my family, the planet, God. I saw one solution—to escape this human dungeon.  And spare everyone the disgust of dealing with disgusting me.  

The day before my trips, I would glare at my flight attendant suitcase on the floor.  Should I pack it?  Could I possibly go to work like THIS?  How would I keep it together in front of the passengers?    All it would take would be one harsh word, one scoff…

Yet somehow, the morning of each flight, I managed to drag my butt out of my apartment building. Onto the metro. Through TSA security.  Every second of the way I wanted to turn back.  Yet when I finally stepped onto the plane and met my coworkers, I felt thorns of light piercing through the impenetrable darkness. 


During boarding, my depression hid itself in one of the overhead bins.   I forgot about it entirely as I made space for suitcases, brought kids extra cookies, ran over with ginger ales for nauseous folks.  From above the clouds it seemed like everything was going to be alright.  And then the flight would be over.  I would take the metro back to my apartment, suffocated by that same torture I had forgotten about. 

Did sunlight at work accentuate the darkness once I returned home?  Possibly.  And nonetheless, I believe that working through that depression helped keep me alive.  Serving others on my flights, even if it was just a glass of ice water, forced me to question, “Would the world actually be better off if I were dead?” 

 Sure, my depressed brain reverted back to “YES, JUST DIE!” after returning home.  But somehow it was noted in my subconscious, that “no—you’re not an unequivocal failure. Look Jenny.  Just 2 hours ago you did make a difference in somebody’s life.” 

Coaching bipolar sisters when I’m depressed has been even more magical.   Many times, when I’m writhing in my own depression, I’m tempted to cancel my coaching sessions.  I mean, how could a trainwreck like me actually support someone else?   

Nevertheless, I force myself to show up anyways.  And the experience is always alchemy.  My rawness makes me an even more empathetic, intuitive coach for my clients, reminding me once again that I’m not worthless.  I always leave my coaching sessions feeling like a different human.  Lit up, like a firefly in a new moon sky. 


In short, going to work when I’m suicidal has been lifesaving for me.  However, there are situations where going to work depressed would be dangerous for us bipolar beings.  One would be if we work in an emotionally toxic environment.   

Another is if our work situation puts us at even greater risk for suicide.  For example, if driving to work feels triggering.  Or if our workplace is on a high floor.  Or if we have access to an abundance of alcohol, medications, or other dangerous substances at work.  

In these circumstances, please take care of your beautiful self and stay away.  And while you’re at it, might it be time to find a safer work environment?  Sadly, for most of us with bipolar, suicidal depression isn’t an if for us, it’s a when. 

But if it feels safe, I invite you to get out into the world today–whether it’s working or volunteering. And while you’re there, I encourage you to do the following.  First, if there’s a colleague who seems empathetic, I invite you to share that you’re not well.  And would really appreciate some angel support. 

Second, find at least one way that you can support others.  If you’re a healer, counselor, teacher, etc, just do your thing boo!  And if you have a job that doesn’t feel as “help-y”, perhaps ask a colleague if they’d like some tea?   Or compliment someone on their spiffy outfit.  

Giving to others releases endorphins and dopamine, which help us feel a little less shitty. It also reminds us that we’re not worthless. That the world wouldn’t be better off if we were worm fodder.  

And if you simply can’t get out of the house, or even out of bed today, please be compassionate with yourself.  You’re doing the best you can.  Give yourself a hug.  Tomorrow is another day.  Whenever you’re ready, the world will be so grateful to receive you exactly as you are. 

Sending you so much love as you work your way through your bipolar journey