""It's $2.13 an hour plus tips. $7 an hour when you're working the bar. Plus, you don't have to fold napkins and silverware. The job's yours, if you want it." I nodded quickly. "Yes, I do," I said, rising from my seat. The woman interviewing me smiled crookedly, told me to wear all black, and said I could start on Tuesday."
""I walked into the ramen shop already carrying a diagnosis: bipolar II disorder, with psychotic features. I was stable, medicated, and seeing a psychiatrist monthly, but I knew how fragile that stability could be. I never told anyone outside of my close friends and family about my disorder. Everyone saw the polished, high-achieving version of me - not the one who sometimes couldn't sleep for days, or thought the news anchor was speaking directly to me and could see into the future.""
""In my old position, I spent countless hours hovered over my keyboard building out campaigns, analyzing metrics, and hopping on zoom calls. Everything was urgent. I didn't feel a sense of peace. I spent most of my time panicking. At the ramen shop, all I had to do was take orders, carry hot bowls of ramen, smile at customers and wipe tables. It was the first time in years I'd felt my body working in sync with my mind.""
A 27-year-old with a master's degree and nonprofit experience takes a low-wage ramen job after a breakup, bipolar II diagnosis, and a move back home. The job paid base wage plus tips, required wearing black, and felt temporary. Previous high-pressure nonprofit work caused panic, sleeplessness, and an inability to cope. At the ramen shop, simple physical tasks—taking orders, carrying hot bowls, smiling, wiping tables—created bodily-mind synchronization and relief from constant urgency. The narrator remained medicated and in psychiatric care, kept the diagnosis private, and contrasted a polished public persona with private symptoms and fragile stability.
Read at BuzzFeed
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