Skip to main content

reflective - work, writing and mental health. June 2016

This morning I got up, showered, made my kids their cereal and headed off to catch my bus, but instead of going to work I hid in a coffee shop and stared at the table while my black coffee developed a bored glaze. At 10:10 I picked up the phone and called my GP. Basically I needed to speak to someone or I was going to lose my job. 

I need my job, but over the past few weeks/months I've become increasingly shit at it. Like, really shit. I can't focus on anything, I'll leave a meeting and forget what my actions were supposed to be. I'll have a really big project to report on and just sit there, all day, staring at the keys on my computer, completely unable to start. There is only so long you can get away with this. I thought I should jump before I was pushed. 

I spoke to the doctor. She was amazing. Honestly, NHS, you fucking rock. She didn't hurry me, she just asked me to explain. Suddenly the short list of things I thought weren't very important became longer: sleeplessness, apathy, snappiness, loss of appetite, increased daydreaming, anxiety over day to day tasks (opening the door, answering the phone). She signed me off for two weeks with mild to moderate depression and told me to rest, and, if I could, do something creative that makes me happy. 

I contacted the HR department and my manager. My manager is wonderful, and even as I type I'm desperately trying to suppress incredible guilt at leaving them like this. I take pride in what I do, even if I have been very bad at doing it recently. I'm starting to worry that actually removing myself from a position where I at the very least have to pretend to be functioning normally will actually send me into the unwashed, bedridden depressive who I feel I've been running away from with parenthood and career and marriage and 'being normal' my whole life. 

So I thought I would do the thing I enjoy, the thing I'm good at, the creative thing. I am going to write about everything and anything. I've kept a blog in the past, but felt it all needed to be compartmentalised: a blog about parenting, autism, one about crochet, one about politics and feminism. But I will keep all my posts right here. This can be my therapy, maybe, or will just help me fill my days. 

And even if no one reads the ramblings of a mother on the brink of madness, then at least I won't be plotting ways of disappearing as a missionary to Africa or developing intricate and inflexible weight loss plans (two recent projects...) 

And it's called some bullshit I wrote, because honestly, I can talk some bollocks. 
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

poem: The song of the new vegan (who lives with omnivores)

Toast is wholemeal, I spread my Vitalite And a liberal helping of Marmite, Then I sip his tea to check it’s just right And I’m not a vegan today. Lunch is a hummous wrap with veg And packet falafel which I forget to check Until after it’s gone. It contains egg And I’m not a vegan today. For dinner sausage and mash is planned, My meat free sausages are tasty but bland, But I serve potatoes, and lick butter from my hand, And I’m not a vegan today. The sun comes up, my coffee is brewed Almond milk goes in, my banana is chewed I take a deep breath. I’m at peace with my food And I’ll try to be vegan today. (Again) 
Post a Comment
Read more

engage, enterprise, innovate.

Where do you start? I often sit in my drop in sessions confronted by a year 11 who is, frankly, overwhelmed. They are finally facing the first point of real decision about their life after years and years of education, assessments, careers advice, open days, workshops and assemblies. They’ve been told about A Levels, Btecs, OCR national diplomas, NVQs, Traineeships and Apprenticeships. They’ve been told about Level 2s and Level 3s, UCAS points, HNDs, BAs and BSc, Masters degrees, graduate schemes, internships and access courses. They’ve been told they HAVE to stay in education or training, by law, until they are 18. They’ve often been sent to me by a teacher, or a parent, who have very well meaning and slightly panicked worries about them. They have no plan. What are they going to do after school/college/uni. Where will they go? Who will they be? They’ve been told, ‘I’ve made an appointment for you to go and meet Amy. She’ll sort you out’. And so they sit, in front of me...
Post a Comment
Read more

blah blah sponging off the tax payer blah blah...

One of the biggest talking points at the moment is the government's plans to cap benefits. Now, I don't have the time or energy to explain, or even try and understand the  fine points  of all the changes,  other people  have done this far better than me. I would, however, like to respond to the, frankly rather boring and predictable responses that always come up whenever benefits are discussed in public. They are often uttered by those who proudly state they have always worked, never claimed benefits, and invariably wonder at people who dare to have children, homes, televisions, food, water etc. without considering who is going to pay for them. Well, all I can say about these  commenters  is that  I'm  very pleased for them that they've never been in a position of vulnerability or disadvantage, and they're right, if everyone was intelligent enough to never need any help from anyone, ever, the world would be a much better place. Unfortunately, ...
Post a Comment
Read more