Ten years. A long time. But then again, not that long at all.

Photo by Aishath Naj on Unsplash

April 1, 2026

April 1, 2016, was the first day of my management job at a major healthcare insurer headquartered in Louisville, Kentucky.

It was the beginning of my descent into madness. Literally.

That move and that job precipitated a full-blown bipolar breakdown, complete with an extensive hospitalization in 2017. I have no way of knowing if that is something that would have happened regardless of where I was living and working, but I do know that was the worst job I’ve ever had, the job where I was treated the most poorly in my life, and the stress of that didn’t help matters at all. However, my bipolar depression and manic episodes had been slowly increasing, and all of that may have happened regardless of my circumstances. But again, being treated like SHIT by a major corporate employer does not help matters when you’re fighting for your life.

That job didn’t work out, and I failed at a series of three more jobs in my field before I was simply unable to work altogether. Throughout most of 2017 and into 2018, I didn’t have an income. My old boss paid me a $1000 a month retainer to do technical writing for his practice management system, so my rent and utilities were paid. My mom sent me $300 cash and paid my phone bill every month, and I got $194 in food stamps and Medicaid which covered my ever-increasing number of prescription drugs. I lived hand-in-hand with Suicide for well over a year.

In February, on Valentine’s Day (!!!), I ended my affair with Married Man. That was my lowest point. I’m not sure how I made it through the next few months. Actually, I know how I did — I basically slept through them. I’d sleep for days at a time, only getting up to feed the cats.

A tiki bar had opened up about a block from my house and on a day I was finally up to it, I ventured out to see. There were $2 empanadas for happy hour, and I began to eat those most every afternoon. Then in May of 2018, I met Terri there, and things started to turn around for me. Terri must have sensed what a difficult time I was going through. She befriended me, started taking me to the Unitarian Church with her. She’d ask, “Do you want to sit in the sanctuary and not talk about God? Or do you want to stay in the kitchen with me and make lunch?” What do you think I chose? Lunch! Afterwards, she’d take me to Kroger, since I’d relinquished my car to the bank a year previous. Often, when I’d meet her at the register, she’d pay for my groceries. I could barely afford cat food and cat litter. That was the thing that bothered me the most. I was so poor, I couldn’t take care of my cats. Terri saved me. That woman saved me. And she’s continued to save me, over and over. I thank God I met Terri.

Over the following year, I got stronger and better. I started to make more friends at the Limbo. When I could afford it, I started to go out a bit more. I don’t know how I made it a year without and income, but I made it a year without an income. Often, I’d check the mailbox and a friend had sent me a card with words of encouragement and $20. Sometimes $100. In one of the early months, before I started working for my old boss, three former colleagues collaborated to pay my rent. Friends sent me boxes of food they’d bought on Amazon. Pay it forward really works. Karma is real.

My disability came through in August of 2018, so I finally had enough to live on. It was less than a fourth of what I’d been making in my last job, but I was able to manage on it. I had enough to buy more beads, so I kept on making jewelry. Making jewelry saved me. I have to work; I can’t not work. I have to have meaningful tasks to occupy my mind. When I could afford to, I’d Uber to little boutiques around town and talk to the managers and owners about consigning my earrings. I got into a couple of shops and that few dollars a month really made a difference. I made it. I have no idea how I made it, with Suicide still a constant companion, but I made it.

And then in May 2019, I got the call my mother was gravely ill and I moved back to Washington to care for her. That created a whole new set of challenges that nearly took me down, again. I had another psych hospitalization in August 2022, and I promised myself if things didn’t get better as my mother’s caregiver, I’d walk away. I didn’t ever want to go to the hospital again. The hospital isn’t horrible, but it’s no fun, and I’ve made a commitment to myself to do whatever I need to do to ensure I never go back again. Making that commitment was a turning point for me.

I had another difficult year, but then I started seminary in August of 2023, and with that focus and structure, I began to feel better. Feeling better, getting stronger, gaining perspective, is what prompted me to make the much-needed change of leaving my role as her caregiver in late 2023.

Last night in class, the professor asked us to contemplate what it would look like to have the spirit of God manifest in our lives. He gave us a few minutes to reflect and write, and then we broke into small groups. I wrote:

· Release resentment and hate

· Forgiveness complete — for myself and others

· Release regrets

· No more fear

· “Go and sin no more.”

Then I wondered whether my bipolar depression would go away, and immediately I realized it would not.

In the breakout group, I shared what I’d written. And then I explained that I did not think the spirit of God manifest in my life would heal my mental illness. I don’t think that’s how God works. Bipolar disorder is a chronic medical condition. It’s most often inherited; my father was undiagnosed bipolar. He was very ill towards the end. I can clearly see my illness parallels his. I have come to understand that mental illness can be managed, and I manage mine quite aggressively, but I don’t know anyone who’s ever been “cured” of mental illness. When I said that, one of my friends in the group remarked, “That’s quite an important realization, Coco.” And I realized she is right. I’ve come a long long way. I’m doing well.

There is no magic to my life these days, there simply is no magic in life at all. It’s all hard-work, persistence, tenacity, and just plain faith — faith in God — but most importantly faith in the person you are and were intended to become. I still struggle quite mercilessly with bipolar depression. But I’m better. Every day I get a little stronger and a little better. It’s not linear — I have extended periods when I live in the darkness of The Sad. But in the aggregate, on average as it were, I’m so much better.

And so today, exactly ten years after the day that began my descent into madness — literally — I can say I’ve been to hell, lived there a while, then came out of it. It has taken me ten years to rebuild my life after I lost everything. Ten years. A long time. But then again, not that long at all.

I Persevere. And life goes on.