A Creative Retelling of Every Lie I’ve Told to Get Out of Work and the Probable Truths Behind Them

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I've used this example before, but unfortunately, it bears repeating. A modern-day employer would sooner okay a day off to bring your temperamental succulent to urgent care than give you 24 hours to regain your sanity at home. That scat-stained mentality leads those with mental illness to come up with socially acceptable white lies to secretly use sick days for our emotional ailments. Consistently harvesting vague and phony physical symptoms to request time off without judgment is as daunting as trying to give yourself a pedicure in a sandstorm. Hopefully, by way of continuing to speak our truths, there will come a day where skipping work to stay home and cry won't be the end of the damn world. So without further boo-hoo, I give you all the bullshit I've probably said (and truly wanted to say) to my bosses in the name of preserving my mental health without getting fired.

1. The lie: “I need to stay home this week. I’m having a personal issue.”

The truth: “My boyfriend text me ‘Excited to see you tonight!’ But the tone of his ‘!’ was #unclear. Circling back, I’m going to need to take the day off to text my Talkspace therapist each theory on why that “!” actually means he’s cheating on me with the caterpillar we saw in the park on Tuesday. Can I also use my bereavement leave to honor the loss of my four remaining marbles?”

2. The lie: “I don't feel well.”

The truth: “I honestly racked what’s left of my brain and can’t find a solid reason to get my body out of bed today (no offense). That said, I’m just going to skip the six meetings, two presentations, and 14 client calls we had planned to compulsively refresh my feed of Insta videos dedicated to cutting bars of soap into tiny cubes.”

3. The lie: “My stomach hurts, I need to stay home.”

The truth: “I don’t have the cash to refill my meds until Friday. Since I'm not properly medicated right now, I’m going to take all constructive feedback about my work as personally as possible. I think a temporary leave of absence to scream into my weighted anxiety blanket would be the appropriate action steps. It’s either that or watch me cry in front of our biggest account ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

4. The lie: “Is it okay if I get someone to cover my shift today?”

The truth: “This intern I used to work with who was born the year I got pubes tweeted that he willingly left the job In which I was laid off. Furthermore! He gracefully slithered into a new position at another sparkling company with zero unemployment time in between. Meanwhile, I, a 30-year-old, puttering pamplemousse, spent a year with no job and got laid off a mere seven months into the next one. I need to stay home and torture myself with defeatist thoughts until I form an ulcer. Have a great weekend!”

5. The lie: “I just threw up.”

The truth: “Full disclosure: my face looks like I exfoliated with a lemon zester. I picked my cheeks well into the hypodermis to suppress my anxiety and legally can no longer leave my home. Unless you want me walking into the office with the skin of a chicken katsu, I’m OOTO. All of this included in my out of office reply.”

6. The lie: “Sorry I missed work, I forgot I was scheduled today.”

The goddamned truth: “Sometimes my depression doesn’t let me shower for a week, and as a result, I develop ravishing cases of bacterial vaginosis. The aromatic notes are like that of a decomposed rind of Camembert left in the cupboards of an abandoned trailer in the sweltering Salton Sea. Should the company decline to provide gas masks for the team upon my arrival, I would like to request the coming days off to clear my infection. xoxo, Monistat Girl.”

If you'd like some suggestions on what to *actually* tell your workplace if you need a mental health day off, click HERE to read my post on that. As always, if you enjoyed this article, share it on your social media, leave me a comment, and give this post a fat like so I can become the world-changing mental health blogger of my dreams. xo! 

Pill Pals: Georgia Simone Levy

#PillPals is a new segment where contributing writers and artists share mental health-related work on Take Your Pills. If you would like to contribute art or writing, please send an email to dom@take-your-pills.com for consideration! Thank you! 

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“Noise”

By: Georgia Simone Levy 

Black people usually tell me, "you don't sound black enough."
White people tend to make jokes, "You're such a white girl." Which isn't funny to me.
I learned many years ago beautiful women are women who have white skin and are never overweight. Women should have long hair and know how to take direction.
I heard that last part in a Drake song. 
I want to change. I want to change how I look. I want to change how I think and speak. 
I'm a black-Jewish woman. I suffer from bipolar, depression, anxiety, ADD and ADHD. Will there ever be a fair representation of myself or something similar in the media? 
The women I see in music videos and on Instagram don't look, think or act like me. This makes me feel weird and alone. For years I was seeing images and messages that weren't conducive to loving myself. I decided to unfollow brands and people on Instagram because of this. I also deactivated my Facebook account because it left me feeling bad about myself. I'm very different from what I was subliminally being told to look like. This left me feeling confused.

My name is Georgia Simone Levy. I was born in April of 1989. My birth mother had me in Atlanta, Georgia when she was sixteen. I was adopted at three weeks old into an all-white Jewish family. Here's what I know, it was a closed adoption, so I was immediately taken from my mother and put in foster care. Sometimes I think about what type of woman I'd be today if my birth mom got to hold me that day. Anyways, a white-Jewish single mother from Manhattan New York adopted me. That's my mom. She's my mom. That's who raised me, so it's just what I know. Before adopting me, she relocated to St. Paul Minnesota. My mom is a theater director and professor. She is a feminist and an advocate. My mom had a daughter prior to adopting me but found out the father had a wife and family in a different state already. My mom decided she didn't need a man to have another child. Then, pow! She adopted a black baby. #trendsetter
This single mother of two would face certain hardships due to raising a child-of-color. I wish I could ask my mom what she was thinking and feeling at this time. 
I remember my childhood; I remember being truly happy. I remember hearing Allen Sherman and Bobby McFerrin playing from our record player in our home. Just the three of us. We whistled along and performed made-up choreography while singing, "hello muddah..."
My sister is my best friend. When we were younger, we were on a JCC swim team. There used to be this chubby white-Jewish kid on our team who would come to practice wearing a speedo. Naturally, my mom ended up marrying his father. Great.
I wondered why my mom didn't run this by me first. 
Side note, the guy my mom married, my pops, was previously married. That woman came out that she was a lesbian a little after their son, my brother, was born.
When he married my mom, pops made the decision to legally adopt my sister and I as his own. My sisters biological father even signed over his rights to be her father.  

Cute, huh? 

Now we are one big happy family. The Levy-Berkowitz's. The big five. And I’m the belle of this ball... 

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ABOUT GEORGIA SIMONE LEVY: Georgia Simone Levy is a music enthusiast who lives in Los Angeles, California. Georgia is pursuing a career in A&R/artist development and currently works for a record label. She loves all things creative. 
She is in the process of obtaining a Bachelor of Arts in Journalism and Public Relations from California State University, Northridge. Georgia received an Associate of Arts degree in merchandise marketing in 2012, at the Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising. 

Here's What "Take Your Pills" Really Means

First and foremost, I need to thank my former employer, E! News, for teaching me how to write charmingly clickbaity headlines without straying into the "AND WHAT SHE DID NEXT WILL AMAZE YOU" territory. My blog is a better place because of you. Hearts! 

Anywayzzz - "Take your pills, Dominique” was something my dad used to say to me as a kid when I first started using medication for my mental illness. Without those daily reminders, my mental health may not have improved, and I may not be writing this today. I know that's the stalest trope in the book, but just let me have this, okay?

Those words represent a start of a very long (and ongoing) self-improvement saga. Years later, “take your pills” has become a mantra to ~keep going~ rather than just a reminder to take my meds. Side note - how many mental health clichés can you count in this post? 

AHEM ALSO PLEASE NOTE: The name of this blog by NO means is meant to convince readers that medication is the only way to treat mental illness. Not everyone needs, likes, or wants meds and that’s just fine! This blog is for anyone and everyone -even if you don't keep a pharmacy in your purse.