Friday 14th July 2017

Its that time of year where change is in the air isn't it?

Summer holidays for the kids, change of routines all around for those affected families as a consequence. Seaside towns like the one I live in becoming inundated by some of those families looking for some well deserved rest and relaxation. Whilst at the same time we look forward with some trepidation to the new school year and what that will bring. I'm feeling the winds of change too, I'm not sure I can put my finger on precisely why but I can feel a shift.

Since the last blog I wrote and left posted... I've had a bit of a roller-coaster ride with my emotions. A week ago today I visited a psychiatrist at the request of my force. They say to establish what treatment I should be receiving but I have my doubts that their grounds were quite that compassionate! Especially as they've not been the source of any treatment to date over the last seven months!

The encounter was not a pleasant one and the professional was overbearing, jumped to conclusions and put words into my mouth. I was so distraught throughout the consultation that I was continually crying and at times incapable of being coherent. The consultation was an hour in total and cost the force £350. There was about ten minutes of administration, thirty minutes of very closed questioning which was then stunted further by him contemporaneously recording everything I said. Then he used the last twenty minutes of the session to dictate his letter about me! He says he does it that way so that people know what he will be saying but I have to say it felt more like a time saving exercise to me!

I left the appointment feeling very low and ashamed as he'd made some wild assumptions that I felt stained my character and I spent the next two days feeling really quite distraught about the whole experience. Quite a joke really bearing in mind he is meant to be a mental health specialist and advocate!

After forty eight hours of feeling terribly downtrodden and utterly beaten by the system I had an epiphany. I recalled him saying to me that I could withdraw my consent for him to share his findings with the force at anytime. So I did! This resulted in some squirming, an apology and the letter he'd so hastily dictated being re-written to better reflect my case based on the facts as opposed to his snap assumptions. I have now reinstated my consent for him to share it with the Occupational health department and in turn my force.

Anyway what I have found in the last week is that I have been through a whole array of emotions. From the down trodden beaten feelings of despair to the incensed fire to stand up for myself. Now I'm feeling that I'm almost grateful he treated me so badly as it lit a fire under my butt and forced me to confront the issues head on if you'll excuse the pun!

The psychiatrist reached the following diagnosis for me in his letter:

1. Moderate depressive disorder
2. Generalised anxiety disorder
3. PTSD symptoms

I've had to email him back again and ask if No 3 is a PTSD diagnosis or if just having symptoms isn't quite going that far? Or does it take longer than thirty minutes in a one off session to reach that sort of conclusive diagnosis?

As an aside, he quotes a passage from the force's referral to him in his letter. Apparently they made the following statement "she is reluctant to return to work"? Now I read that as she's swinging the lead or can't be arsed to come to work as opposed to she's unable to return to work or she's too poorly to return to work. What do you think? Have to say it got under my skin somewhat. In his letter he refers to it as a poor prognostic factor!

Another odd comment in his letter is this one;

"perhaps either contributing or perhaps clouding diagnostically is her fibromyalgia"

How does it cloud things? If he knows his stuff and one is assuming he should, it's well documented that PTSD and Fibromyalgia often go hand in hand, in fact my last blog looked at just this area so why does he feel my Fibromyalgia clouds a diagnosis?

Anyway that letter will be winging its way to the OH department, as to what benefit it'll have for me I'm unsure! Does it take me any further forwards? I'm not sure. Was it worth £350?? Probably not! Any decent detective could have taken a far better, all encompassing witness statement from me gathering much greater detail. He could definitely learn a thing or two about listening and compassion because the way he went about things was seriously flawed. Plus detectives don't earn £350 an hour! It certainly brings it home how professional we are as a service for what essentially is peanuts in comparison to what that monkey is earning!

Sunday 25th June 2017 - It's okay not to be okay

The feeling of impending doom, does it ever go away? That constant niggle at the back of your mind that you have something you should be remembering. The inability to sit at rest for fear that you should be doing something constructive...but what was it? The churning stomach the constant looking over your shoulder to see who's there.
In the run up to the end of the school term there are so many events and things going on with baby bear at school that I feel as if I'm balanced on a knife edge, scared stiff I'll forget something as my brain is just a complete mush of madness and consternation.

Last week I lost my house and car keys for forty eight hours, only to find them outside on the wheelie bin lid on full view to every Tom, Dick or Harry car thief and burglar that might have happened past my way.

I stand for minutes on end wondering what I'm meant to be doing or even thinking. I know some of you will say this is just down to age but trust be it borders on dementia. The Fibro fog pads out my brain much like a teddy who is filled to bursting with kapok. I'm like an iPad that needs a software upgrade, slow to respond and freezing up a lot!
Worse than that though I'm constantly cross and agitated which means baby bear is having a rougher ride of things than normal as I seem to be nit picking at her over the smallest details of life. Every time I see her crest fallen little face it chips my heart a bit more. This damned illness, be it the depression or the Fibromyalgia it's got a lot to answer for, which in a world where I'm trying to learn to like myself and give myself permission to exist just leads to more self loathing which isn't at all healthy.
Mental Health is like the spiders web, and I'm the fly stuck in its clutches, struggling for freedom, panicking that I'll never be free.

I used to be confident, capable and a force to be reckoned with, yet now I'm a wreck, a mere shadow of that former self. Things that I wouldn't have blinked twice about doing in the past now cause me great angst and self doubt. The racing heart, the shortness of breath, the dizziness, the mental fog and that's before we even start discussing my swollen and seized up joints. What a sorry state of affairs to get oneself into.
The more I try and focus on what I should be doing the further away the idea seems to float, it's like when you can't remember a fact that's 'on the tip of your tongue'  the harder you think the less likely you are to recall it. Well that's just life in general inside my brain these days. What's even crueller in some respects is that I still sound and look normal because I feel anything but. I feel disabled, I feel mentally challenged, I feel diminished. I think I'd need an appropriate adult if brought into custody. What a state of affairs!

 I've been wondering if I had listened to myself more down the years, if I'd paid attention to the depression and anxiety instead of  ignoring it,  would things have gotten this bad? No probably not. Should I have spoken up sooner? Yes of course, well I kind of did but it wasn't the politically correct thing to do so I just made jokes about myself being mad.

If you're suffering you have to do something about it. I spent two years driving to work hyper ventilating and crying through the anxiety of being at work. I battled on but to what cost to my health? When you leave the police service and we all will what are you left with? Yourself and without your health you're screwed. A good friend said to me last week, 'Don't give them any more of your sanity'

'Don't give them any more of your sanity'

and she's so right. Battling on, hiding the symptoms, self medicating on booze or pills, eventually something will give and I think there would have been less damage to my health if it had been a controlled melt down as opposed to just falling flat on my face! 

It's okay not to be okay

Think about that statement a while. When I first admitted to myself I had depression it felt good, it was as if a burden had been lifted. The hiding of it will only seek to let it fester. When I went back to work after my first break down two years ago I talked about it openly and although some people were very uncomfortable with that it made me feel good. In fact the less they liked it the more I shouted my mouth off! It's not a cure though, there was part of me that couldn't fathom out why it didn't bugger off once I'd acknowledged it. But accepting it does mean you can look at methods of dealing with it. Much like with addiction, the addict has to admit the problem before help can be sought. It's okay not to be okay.

Even now I've learnt about lots of self help tools I'm not going to kid you, it's a struggle. The black dog is that weighted bag around your neck whilst your swimming, dragging you down, trying to put you down. But you have to keep fighting, I need to be here for baby bear, although she deserves better than to have a broken mum.

Try not to get as far along the line as I did before admitting you need help. Hopefully the sooner you get help the lighter your weights will be.

 

I can't be bothered!

Since returning from holiday last week I've been in one of those deep pits of despair that only fellow depression sufferers will know. Floods of tears about goodness knows what whereby anything and everything seem to trigger some snot or other.

The day before yesterday I had my first encounter with the NHS, chronic pain service and my first impressions weren't great but then they could be somewhat tainted by the embarrassment of having cried on and off for an hour or more in front of a complete stranger! I think I expected some 'expert' input into my #Fibromyalgia alongside some guidance on appropriate meds. However neither was forthcoming as the service concentrates on pain management through methods other than medication so I think I felt a little misguided by my GP.

Then yesterday I had another appointment with the GP. I took along suggestions from the pain clinic nurse for him having specifically asked her she'd relented and given me 'off the record' advice on meds! The GP ignored it all with a flippant comment 'those pain clinics have some odd ideas' remark. In fact he then proceeded to remove the only #Fibro medicine I was on (gabapentin) after I asked to be swapped over to another before lecturing me as to the fact that Duloxetine wasn't even registered for pain relief, despite it's widespread use for Fibro by other patients! He then also decided for the second time in as many months to change my antidepressants overnight. This time to Mirtazapine, casting aside Sertraline the same way as Citalopram went not so long ago!
As I sat crying in front of him I couldn't help reflecting how humiliating it is to be out of control, especially as that is the second time in two days I've blubbed in public. He must dread me darkening his door!
I have painful shoulder joints due to calcium build ups on the tendons and he wanted to refer me for steroid injections and physiotherapy, I declined which seemed to leave him perplexed, 'why not?' he asked and the only answer I could find was 'I can't be bothered'
Which pretty much sums up the way I am feeling about most things this week, 'I can't be bothered', God help the Occupational Health woman on Friday if she starts with me, assuming I can see through the snot and tears. I'm bloody miserable and moody!
The GP asked me what I was going to do about work as he categorically thinks I'm not fit for any form of duties and look unlikely to be for some time. What can I say? I shrugged my shoulders despondently and told him there was another work case conference looming next week where they'd be asking the same damn question. What do I say?
Then he signed me off again until the 8th July and packed me off. That will take me over the half pay marker that's been set for the 20th June 2017.

I do know I'm feeling disappointment in myself that I don't feel like I am making any progress towards being healthier. I'm feeling guilty for 'dragging' it out if that's what I'm doing. I also worry about peoples tolerance for my continuing low mood, compassion fatigue must be on the horizon. Goodness knows I'm bloody bored of it myself, let alone anyone else!

That overwhelming feeling that there is no point in anything is back leaving me wondering as to why bother in the first place! That dragging misery getting out of bed in the morning knowing you're just going to have to do all the same shite again and that equally miserable business of trying to get to sleep in the first place and that's before trying to stay asleep. One thing I can guarantee is that I'll be comfortably asleep around the time I need to get up though!

I was drinking a lot of spirits last week on holiday, alongside the odd beer and I'm missing the sense dulling warmth that Jack Daniels brought to me, I drank a litre bottle in a week and that's not good is it?

I feel guilty for feeling so down when there are so many people with 'real' problems out there in the world especially after the horrific terror attacks.  How can I be wallowing in self pity when so many are being so strong?

The clawing, suffocating vacuum that is despair.

I stare into space unseeingly, unable to achieve an awful lot really.  The days trundle by with me managing the bare minimum of household chores necessary, whilst I waste time doing god knows what? In fact I'm surprised I'm typing this really as I shouldn't really be bothered! I need a tattoo for my forehead 'can't be arsed' !

Hopefully next week I'll be walking on the sunny side of the street again hey?! It's odd though to still have a sense of humour alongside the heavy suffocating feelings of misery. You'd kind of expect that to evaporate but oddly it seems fairly stable.

School pick up in an hour so there's another day gone and what have I achieved? A dog walk! Wow! I'm a zombie, I look like me but the insides of my head must have been hollowed out like a Halloween pumpkin and filled with expanding foam instead. I expect even if someone ever does try to put my brains back into my skull now they won't all go will they?! Let's face it when you scrape out potato skins they never all fit back in do they?!!

Anyway I reckon I've reached my ultimate level of concentration for one day, like a Buckaroo game that's about to trigger I'm feeling enough is enough. I certainly don't want to kick anyone!

'Compassion for Cops' - #MentalHealthAwarenessWeek

I'm actually quite shocked looking at how long ago it is since I last wrote a blog post.

Over a month?

I have been aware of a hesitation to sit and write, because I have been feeling a little lost, a little unsure what the point of my voice is, in such a loud over populated environment.

Mental Health is all of a sudden the buzz phrase, taking centre stage, in the spotlight and all power to that, but as a consequence I have felt a little disconnected. That combined with my therapy sessions (detailed previously) and a very close friend dying have all come together to result in me feeling just a bit numb, in fact I'm a little unsure what I am meant to be feeling right about now!

This morning I made a comment on another post that seemed to spark emotion in others so I am going to concentrate on that for today and who knows it may light a fire under my own backside!

PC Dave Wise @CopThatCooks posted:

'Chances are that one of your shift mates is struggling with mental health. Be there for them. Be a friend.'

He made the post under the hashtag of #MentalHealthAwarenessWeek

I responded,

'How very, very true. let's ditch the bullshite bravado fellow cops and find our compassion for one another'

This response to these posts seemed well received and it got me thinking that we really do need to make a huge push to empower our colleagues to understand that

'Compassion for Cops' is hugely important.

Yes we all have our own shite going on, yes we all have bad days, but is there someone close to you at work who is over reacting at jobs, maybe getting really angry really quickly. Losing their temper where once before they would have laughed. Or like me, permanently tearful, be nice to me I welled up, shout at me I welled up, leave me alone I cried from loneliness. Being overwhelmed by our emotions, unable to hide behind our normal level of camouflage is a danger sign for depression sufferers. Some of us higher functioning anxiety sufferers can keep on going, juggling life's detritus but it can often only take one or two extra things to knock us and unlike others with a degree of resilience we have none and our worlds come tumbling down super quickly.

I talk from experience, I used to drive to work in tears, compose myself to walk up to my office from the car, start crying again as my heart pounded and I approached the office. Compose my self again and then enter the office head pounding, eyesight blurring, feeling nauseous and so exhausted it felt like bed time. There I would sit doing what was quite a stressful job, plodding along keeping a heavy workload moving until someone would say or do the slightest silliest thing and all of a sudden I would feel overwhelmed, like a wave had engulfed me in a strong sea and instantly I would feel vulnerable and afraid.

It's at times like this that force's will come to know and appreciate the benefits of a peer support group. When I was suffering there was nothing, no port to hide in during my personal storms. The toilets were my respite, a cubicle was a good place to sit, regain ones composure knowing you're safe and not going to be disturbed.

The triggers for us depression and anxiety sufferers' may seem like the most inconsequential events to others however it's just as the saying goes 'the straw that broke the camel's back'
Often it's not about the particular event in question at all, it's often something else, something darker, more personal and the trigger event is just a sign of an overflowing emotional reservoir.

If you know your crew mates you'll know if their behaviour has changed and I'd ask you to show them compassion not cynicism. Love not logic. Support not sniping. You don't actually have to do much. Just show them support, trust someone who knows, just knowing someone is trying to 'get' it, trying to understand and has your back is a milestone enough.

You are not expected to solve this situation. Digest that statement fully!!

Cops expect to bring order where once before chaos reigned. We're programmed to sort things out, make decisions, mend situations. As such we shy away from colleagues with mental health problems for two reasons, one because we secretly see them as a weak link which breaks our unwritten mantra of  'I've got your back' and secondly because we don't know how to mend them, or bring about order, we feel the need to find a way to quieten their inner chaos.

Nobody is expecting you to know how to mend them though! You really do not have to solve this problem!

I'm five months into sick leave, working with therapy and I still don't know how to mend myself!!

But compassion does goes a very long way. Balls to bravado people, us cops need compassion for one another and ourselves.

Compassions counts on a personal level too you see. Once you accept we are all imperfect human beings who make mistakes and that there is not one person alive that has not ballsed up at some point from your Chief to the new probationer you will be in a better place to live a happy and healthy life. Humans are fallible. What sets people apart is how they deal with their adversities. Making mistakes is what life is all about.

I'm currently trying to learn that if  I face my mistakes, accept them head on, live with them a while, process what's happened logically, no self blame, then choose to move on I'll be all the better for it. But burying crap, hiding it, carrying it around in your personal rucksack of burden for years becomes exhausting! This I do know from experience! If only we were all compassionate to ourselves and others the world would be a better place.

Listen people suffering with depression and anxiety look just like everybody else....that's because we are everybody else!! Seriously though we become experts at masking the pain that lurks just below the surface. we smile, we laugh, sometimes we even make ourselves the centre of attention for people to laugh at, because that way we get to affirm the feelings we feel inside that tell us people are laughing at us behind our backs. Trust me lots of sad very depressed people become/are clowns.
(Robin Williams was a classic incarnation of this as was Kenneth Williams, or even Peter Sellers)
I always used to try and put myself down before others did, gave me a feeling of control some how.

Anyway if a colleague approaches you or confides something in you feel proud, not panicked. Just feel good that they love and trust you enough to do so. Remember they are not looking for answers or solutions, they are looking for your compassion. A smile and an accepting nod will be a good start. A few kind words if you can find them.  You could in time work with them to find help, but mostly they'll just want your support, that smile and your compassion and understanding.

So you cops trust me it's not rocket science, and it's not scary. It's also not the appropriate subject of parade room banter, and it's not unusual to be discussed in public.  If you think the opposite then get with the times dude as you are sadly in the wrong decade.

The other little secret I'll leave you with,  is that whenever the depression sufferer tells you was when they first realised they had a problem that will be a lie, double the time frame suggested and add another year!!

We try to minimise, we try to pretend it's a new phenomena! Partially we believe ourselves, but its a protective white lie to test the reactions we get, but when we start trusting people, we start being wholly honest and then you'll come to know when the black dog first made contact with us.

Finding light where once before dwelled darkness

So Day Two of my Therapy came and went, some people have asked me how it went and I have given you the abridged version. This however is the more comprehensive record for those with interest or trying to escape boredom! I've combined my personal thoughts and experiences with a little background information on the techniques' Debbie used.

Come day two, I knew what the therapist Debbie had told me about herself, but apart from that I knew very little about her in a friendship kind of way. I didn't know her favourite food or her choice of music and yet it felt like waiting for an old friend to arrive, someone I had known my whole life, someone I could trust implicitly; the sort of trust I would need to allow Ellie to spend time with someone.

This feeling was all the more extraordinary if you know me well, and not many people do, but that's the point!  I do not trust people, I do not share things with people, I certainly do not like people in my home and on the whole I much prefer canine company to that of humans.

So come day two of my therapy sessions which by the way have been provided by the charity Save our Soldier as opposed to the police service stepping up in any which way with productive methods of therapy. Although after three months of being off sick I do have a referral to a psychologist in the offing! My therapist though is Debbie Banks and believe me I was somewhat unnerved to find myself actually looking forward to her coming back into my home for the second day.

Debbie brought with her, her beautiful little man Dave (a dachshund!) and our three canine friends set to doing their thing whilst we went about doing ours.

In some respects it seems that all we did was talk for two whole days, I shared thoughts and feelings with her that have never seen the light of day yet alone been openly discussed, but it was so much more. How one person has the capacity to listen so keenly, caringly and respectfully is and always will be somewhat of a mystery. Yes in policing we listen intently to witnesses and victims, yes of course we do,  but for our purpose on the whole, we have our agendas.When Debbie listened to me talk, about me, for me she is also doing it for me not her! One hundred percent selflessness.

I'm reminded of one of those Velcro walls where people dress in the sticky stuff and then run head long at it before jumping at it and sticking. Normally my thoughts only ever get as far as that proverbial wall and get stuck there, front and centre of my brain regurgitating themselves in my minds eye over and over. What Debbie does is strip off that sticky suit from your thoughts so they can move around more freely, jump at those brain walls and slip right off again!

I have tried counselling before but I have never trusted the counsellor, and you surely have to trust someone you are going to bare your soul to. Plus the ones I have tried have only ever given me allotted slots, so you get to be sad, angry or crying for 45 minutes before instantly stopping those feelings midway through their own personal riot before then exiting into a waiting room full of people. Regardless of what you were discussing, or how sensitive your disclosure was when your time slot is up that is that.

It was different with Debbie, she listened sometimes answered with her own thoughts, it was much more like a conversation than before when I'd just got to sit there like a comedian regurgitating my life's very own cruel in jokes waiting for the counsellor to react.   This time it was more like I was vomiting up my life's fur balls whilst Debbie then diligently came along behind clearing them away before then putting things straight for me by her magical finger wagging!

Debbie used a technique called, Eye movement desensitisation and reprocessing (EMDR)

Eye movement desensitisation and reprocessing (EMDR) is a relatively new treatment which has been found to reduce the symptoms of PTSD.
It involves making side-to-side eye movements, usually by following the movement of your therapist's finger, while recalling the traumatic incident. Other methods may include the therapist tapping their finger or playing a tone.
It's not clear exactly how EMDR works but it may help you to change the negative way you think about a traumatic experience.

As I explained in Day One's blog when Debbie initially started waving her fingers around I was somewhat taken aback and sceptical. It felt a little odd and unsettling for a sceptical git like me but I knew I trusted her so went with it. It is easy, there is no mysticism in it and nothing to be concerned about.

Another technique Debbie used was called havening, which is a fairly new technique invented by a Dr Ruden. Debbie used this alongside and sometimes at the same time as EMDR. Debbie rubbed my arms, my head and even the palms of my hands. We hummed nursery rhymes, we counted to twenty out loud and we visited mind palaces. My safe places where I could visualise something I loved that brought me pleasure in the real world. Mine was the Maldives after a couple of amazing holidays over there.

Event Havening consists of three main components:

1. Activation of an emotional event by recall;
2. Havening touch which is applied to the arms, face and palm;
3. Distraction techniques such as visualizing, humming songs and/or counting.

These three components when applied alter the brain waves to allow for the receptor to become internalised and thus block any response.

Therefore if you're feeling anxious or struggling to deal with difficult memories, the simple act of rubbing your arms may help banish the emotional pain.

Havening, can help reduce anxiety and depression by altering the way memories are stored or recalled.

The process is thought to work by boosting levels of the mood stabilising brain chemical serotonin, which can disrupt the link between memory of an event and the distress it causes.

The third technique Debbie used was related to the Vagus Nerve. 

We used an exercise involving chanting and breathing exercises whereby Debbie had me breathing in and out very deeply. On the exhale we would make a low gutteral voo 'ing' noise which we would maintain until the breath was all gone before then repeating upwards of 20-30 times.

We don’t always know why we feel the way we do or how we know the answer to any given question. Sometimes we just do. Some of us chalk it up to instinct or a sixth sense.

Perhaps the answer may be the vagus nerve it is after all a physical link between the mind and the body.

Debbie spoke with me about the importance of aligning the vagus nerve from where it starts in the brain stem all the way down to the colon. According to researchers, it is, the internal eye that connects the mind to the body.

The vagus nerve literally activates the parasympathetic nervous system – the mechanism that controls involuntary actions and affects mood. So when we breathe deeply and slowly, we can stimulate the vagus nerve.

Having undergone all these treatments over five or six hours for two days I was somewhat mentally exhausted but very contented. I felt like I had experienced a lovely day at the seaside in all that gorgeous sea air leaving me feeling physically and mentally exhausted but so happy experiencing a warm fuzzy feeling inside.

I waved good bye to Debbie with a heavy heart as she had brought light into my darkness and I already felt different. the same but different. A new me, new beginnings...

The following day after she left, I felt I should write this blog entry right away but something stopped me. I had a happiness bubbling inside that I had not felt in many a month if not years. I still had the aches and pains of my fibromyalgia but my brain felt relief , I felt like I had been given a gift. One of those gifts that brings you such  overwhelming joy you want to hold on to it very tightly and you don't want to share it at all for fear of sullying it or maybe even bursting your bubble.

It was my gift and for once I felt I deserved my place in this world.

Debbie and I had laughed numerous times over our two days together about the way I perceived the human population outside my own four walls.  I saw everyone as 'fuckers' nasty time wasting creatures always getting in my way, always ruining my day, always looking at me with hatred in their hearts! She has taught me I needed to find the compassionate human being in myself, towards them and more importantly towards myself. Live and let live if you like.

As I walk my pooches now, or go about my life out there in the world I cannot promise I don't still have my 'fucker' moments because I do! But I am giving myself permission to be me, permission to be in this world and I actually feel relief from allowing everyone else to go about their business too. My constant paranoia of assuming they are hating on me for being around them or looking down on me has been erased.

I have to report I have also listened to music for the last two days...Music me! A simple pleasure but one I couldn't, didn't want to enjoy previously. So if you do see a dumpy middle aged woman bopping along the pavement with two hounds dragging her along do give me a smile!! A bus driver spotted me rocking out to 'Come On Eileen' earlier and beamed at me, he was clearly amused but in a friendly knowing way!!

From here on in then... Debbie has provided me with two tracks to listen to each day, one is breathing exercises and the other is a personalised recording she has done for me to fight my Fibromyalgia symptoms. She is also talking about a couple more days worth of sessions.

In summary then I feel like I got very lucky, something brought me to Debbie's door, some unseen power allowed this intervention. Maybe it was my bravery in reaching out or maybe it really was just a lucky break. Whatever it was I think I will be reflecting on its majesty for some time to come if not the rest of my life.

If you are suffering I urge you to talk to somebody. Honesty is the first step to wellness, with yourself and then loved ones and finally work.

Stand up for your rights, walk the walk, you would no doubt ask victims of crime to report what has happened to them, to be brave enough to speak out against the atrocity that befell them. So why don't you stand up for yourself and the atrocity that is the mental health that is affecting you? Talk about your mental health, seek help, visit your GP.  Reach out to a charity like I have maybe and ask for help, or maybe speak to Mind's Blue Light campaign or even a Blue Light Champion at work if your force has them? Maybe you have peer support through your welfare department? Trust me when you come clean you will be amazed how many others are suffering too, I was!!

Please do not suffer alone, the way you are feeling will not go away, its like a fly that needs swatting. It'll buzz on and on until the noise of that buzzing will be all you can hear and life as you know it will cease to exist.

New Beginnings - Day One of Therapy

I think I may have turned a corner today.

Debbie, a life coach provided by Save Our Soldiers Charity (see previous blog for links etc.) came to my home and worked with me all day.

Right now I'm physically knackered, mentally numbed in some respects but happy not to feel so anxious for the time being. For the first time in forever I think there may well be a less grumpy, entirely capable woman lurking in the depths of my psyche waiting for Debbie to dig out bit by bit.

I believe I started the day off from a point of view scepticism because I have felt so unwell and burdened for so long that I found myself backed into a corner so far that I could barely see anything.

My first impressions of people always count for a lot and the minute I laid eyes on Debbie I felt less concerned, less in fear of being dominated for the day. I kind of expected a matriarchal female to arrive in a business like manner ready to sort me out, but instead I found a grounded, incredibly clever educated woman with boundless compassion and immense kindness sitting in my lounge. The fact she was a dog lover and brought 'Dave' the Dachshund with her helped immensely, but then I suspect she knew that anyway and planned it that way.

Debbie is intuitive, happy to listen to boundless amounts of inane brain ramblings and clearly exceptionally talented at what she does.

I found some of her techniques a little 'hippy' like but they appear to have reaped results as I'm feeling like my shoulders aren't up around my ears for starters. Debbie used a technique that I think she referred to as REM, or it worked by accessing the brains processing area like we do naturally during our REM sleep processes. It re-orders and asks the brain to process information in a different way, thus learning to associate and desensitise the brain against anxious things, bad memories and instead link these memories with more calming pleasurable things. (Sorry Debbie if that description is pants!!)

I do feel a little like Mr Ben tonight, like I have walked into that shop, entered a cubicle and then walked out the other side, still me but slightly different!

As I was driving to get Ellie, baby bear,  I felt like I had, had an MOT and service!

What I am trying to convey to you is the feeling you get when you collect you car after it has had a service. Yes it is the same old car but it feels tweaked, brakes more responsive, handbrake tighter, water bottle for the windscreen full of the good blue stuff.

So I feel tweaked, serviced!!

I feel like an enhanced version of myself, or at least the chrysalis of the beautiful butterfly I can become with work and dedication to getting myself well again.

Day Two tomorrow... so standby for the next instalment!!!

Attention all cops... please RT and read

Dear Colleague,

Do you suffer with depression and anxiety?

Do you have any mental illness that affects you on a day to day basis?

No you answer all too quickly?!

Who me?! You think, no of course not, how could I,  I'm a cop, we deal with the nutters don't we? how could I possibly be one?!

BUT - Do you get angry unexpectedly? Or do things make you cry out of the blue? Perhaps you find yourself sat staring off in to space for no particular reason? Are you feeling frazzled, over loaded? Does your head ache more than most? Do you suffer from fatigue regardless of how much sleep you have had? Is your workload getting you down? Is it a psychological burden to you, something you're fretting about day in and day out. Do you wake up and immediately consider the outstanding jobs you have? Is your brain slower than normal, foggy, forgetful? Do you feel numb to things and spaced out? Do you question your ability and have low self esteem? Maybe you have unexplained aches and pains? And the future is bleak right?

If you answered yes to any of these things, then potentially you could have mental illnesses like depression and or anxiety and you need help because trust me it doesn't solve itself.

Have you declared any of these things to your supervision? I suspect the answer is no, but if you have what was the response?

Probably oh dear never mind, do the best you can!

Or sshhh... best to keep those thoughts to yourself, you don't want to sully your career with suggestions of instability or mental health issues do you?!

Or perhaps... you may have to move roles if you start talking like that!?

Or, that will affect your promotion chances you know...!

I know these things because officers responding to this blog have told me these exact stories.

I too have experienced all these things to some degree because I am a serving police officer too and I have depression, anxiety and fibromyalgia and I am currently off sick.

I have been off sick since Christmas 2016 and my force have been unable to offer me any real support. What I need is a psychiatric intervention, counselling, mental health support which is fairly obvious really! What I get though is referrals to occupational health, summonses to case conferences and silence.

There is a stigma currently attached to mental illness in the police service and it is high time this was changed. I understand why you keep quiet, why you hide your illness under your hats, why you hide behind your uniforms and bury your heads in your massive piles of paperwork... HOWEVER

There comes a time when people, cops, we have to stand up and be counted. Will you help with that?

Change will not start itself,  it needs pushing along.

I can shout and shout but me in isolation will not change things,

I need you to be brave, grasp the nettle and shout very loudly about your mental health.

HONESTY IS THE KEY TO FIGHTING THE STIGMA

Not only will that help the cause but yourself too.

You need to be able to look in the mirror and see yourself, not the fake, puffed out chest, I can cope with anything cop version, but you the gentle caring person you were before stress and anxiety ravaged you.

Peer support groups in every force need to become the norm. Access to psychiatric help within days needs to be the norm. Let's break down the STIGMA....NOW...

Acceptance of mental illness without the stigma is vital to a modern police service surviving.

Without change the future is bleak,staffing numbers are falling and work loads are increasing so more and more officers will need support and guidance not the current wall of silence and ignorance.

Will you stand tall and join my Black Dog Cops Pack?

We can make a difference for ourselves and others.

#MENTAL HEALTH MATTERS