2017 was the last year that I “worked.” I had taken a year or so under FMLA, etc, where I had quickly been diagnosed as bipolar 1, and then my manager, E, had to work closely with my psychiatrist to develop a “return to work” schedule (so lots of back-and-forth emails). It was pretty minimal, work from home, and eventually return to the office and work the whole week, all in about a month.
My first full week back, on a Friday, I remember being in a meeting with about 16 other folks, when I watched an intern bring a smoothie to E, since it was about lunch time, and I gave him a look, which he clearly noticed, as he looked hella scared. He left for the restroom, and I soon gathered my belongings, and left the conference room without a word (I’m fairly certain that everyone else in the meeting was in shock at my departure, so I’ve been told). I ran into E on the way out and told him that I was done, and would be leaving as soon as possible.
The meeting ended, and I was at my desk NOT doing anything except waiting for an hour or two for the soonest shuttle home, no one spoke to me, and I left, with all my work belongings.
I would later get a box to return my laptop, but nothing else.
There was certainly some back and forth emails with HR, and at one point I manically started a lawsuit, but things kind of worked out eventually, even though my wife passed away, as did my cat.
I did my best, and you can figure it out as you go, but with a care team; mine involves a therapist, a psychiatrist, and a caregiver. You can be alone without being alone.