AI Solved the Problem I Couldn’t Explain to Managers

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I used to be physically unable to open my email. Not in an “ugh, I don’t want to” way—in a “my animal brain thinks there’s a predator in there waiting to kill me” way.

The anxiety was so intense that I would avoid my inbox for days, sometimes weeks. To my catastrophizing mind, each unopened email contained an irate client, another job rejection, or more proof that I was failing at being a functional professional.

I missed deadlines and lost opportunities. I apologized constantly for being a week late on responses. When I went freelance last year, the stakes multiplied. My income was now directly tied to my responsiveness. A single episode of inbox avoidance, and the missed deadlines and unaddressed feedback that came with it, could be the difference between making rent that month—or not.

I’ve written before about AI’s raw productive capacity—how it can turn one person into a content agency, and how it allows me to spin more plates at once than I thought possible before. And it can. But by focusing on what AI lets me produce, I’ve only been telling part of the story. To understand the other part, and learn how we should truly be measuring the positive impact of AI, I need to share something I don’t talk about on client calls.

The cycle I couldn't explain to managers

Four years ago, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder.

It’s a mental illness characterized by extreme mood swings—periods of elevated energy and mood alternating with periods of deep depression. The specific pattern varies from person to person. Some people experience more manic episodes, some experience more depressive ones, and the intensity and duration of each episode can differ significantly.

I tend toward the depression side of the spectrum. When I’m in a depressive episode, basic tasks feel insurmountable. Any obstacle—like a cluttered inbox, a blank page, or the organizational overhead of tracking deadlines—makes things exponentially worse. When anxiety tells you everything is urgent and catastrophic, you can't trust your own judgment about what's manageable. You need structure on the outside to keep things level on the inside.

For years, my bipolar made steady employment difficult. I rarely stayed in any company or role longer than 12 months. Managers would be baffled—I'd be consistent one month and barely responsive the next. The inconsistency made me look unreliable in ways I couldn't explain without disclosing a diagnosis I wasn't ready to share.