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.

 

1140 hours Sunday 18th June 2017

It would appear that summer has arrived in the UK!!

Looks like we will have a 'week' of sunshine! Yea! I will of course eat my hat should we get further prolonged periods of sunshine this year!! (makes mental note to buy edible head wear!)

So a few things to catch up on, 'The Case Conference'... the night before the conference was due to take place my boss emailed me with a jovial, 'is everything okay for tomorrow?'

BIG MISTAKE!!

As I had said to you all, I was already working myself up into a frenzy and found myself firing back a 'no I bloody well ain't' type email before I could take too many breaths!!  I detailed my symptoms and asked him why it was necessary to hold a meeting at a juncture where I was still awaiting a psych. referral and had only two days previously been seen by the FMO. Her report detailed my current state of mind quite eloquently, as 'low'!. They hadn't actually seen the report yet, so I forwarded it on to them as supporting evidence of what I was saying about my mood and the way attending the meeting on top of that was making me feel. The boss then returned fire with short shrift saying it needed to go ahead as there were things he needed to discuss!' I was not amused...

The day of the conference dawned and my joints were so swollen and seized that in order to get out of my bed I had to roll myself out and off before then needing to bum shuffle down the stairs as my knees wouldn't bend well enough or hold sturdy enough for me to safely descend in the normal manner. In fact, I was a quivering wreck.

I decided to take the dogs out prior to getting washed and brushed up for said conference, when lo and behold I had another email. This time my boss capitulated, he had found some compassion, and offered to have a telephone conference instead of dragging me into a police building. I felt such relief. He also luckily gave me a specific time that he'd ring to alleviate any further strain and I insisted on my fed rep being with him in his office throughout the conversation. I still got worked up as I hate phones, but sometimes its a question of accepting the lesser of two evils isn't it?

The email summary of the conversation is detailed below...

Good morning Leasa

I hope you are well It was good to speak yesterday.

To confirm what was agreed during our conversation:

·         We discussed your recent consultation with FMO

·         You confirmed that you would continue to receive full pay for 3 more months.

·         You informed me that you are finding the ongoing treatment through ‘Save our Soldiers’ (via Safer Horizons) beneficial

Psychiatric Assessment

We had considerable discussion around this and the fact that you were frustrated that it had not yet happened

The following summarises the discussion and how we would progress

·         Welfare has requested that a referral for a psychiatric assessment is made

·         You have agreed that it would be good for you

·         FMO has recommended the referral is made psychiatric assessment

I informed you:

·         That the force would fund the referral

·         That Welfare had tried to make the referral but had not been able to because Occupational Health were awaiting written consent from you.

You stated that you had not been provided with a written consent form and we agreed that you would write me a letter consenting to the referral.

Supportive Management Action (SMA)

·         We discussed the previous arrangements agreed in March

·         I informed you that UAP would not be considered at this stage but will be discussed in 3 months time

·         We agreed that you were not fit for work at this time and you updated me with the fact that your that your current ‘Fit Note’ expires on 8 July 2017

·         When asked about what supportive measures would help your main concern was the psychiatric assessment referred to above.

Actions agreed:

·         I would maintain regular contact with you – every 2 weeks – where I would text you and, if you are feeling well enough have a telephone conversation.

·         You will maintain regular contact and attend appointments and treatment as advised

·         You will send in a consent form re Psychiatric Assessment (DONE) which I will forward to Welfare to facilitate the referral (DONE)

·         Welfare will ensure, via Occupational Health, that the referral is made.

So there you go that's where we are currently up to!

Moving swiftly on from such depressing things!

Over the last couple of days I have found that being near water seems to quieten my mind and bring about some peaceful feelings. I have gotten baby bear's paddling pool out to lounge about in! But it isn't quite the same as the pool in Turkey!! What do you think? I've considered painting the Turkey view on my back fence but I'm not sure I'm skilled enough!!

The last twenty four hours have been lovely as baby bear has been with her dad and I could just look after myself. Very selfish I know but the space to breathe seems to make a world of difference to me.

I'm dreading a couple of things this week... Have a meeting tomorrow at the school as to whether the Year 6 Leavers, Baby Bear included,  should continue with their plans to spend a week in London the week after next. Trip as been planned for over a year and paid out £350 for it. People have demanded a meeting and lots of kids parents have already pulled them out saying it is not safe for them to go!

Whilst I know I'll worry all week about the 'what if's' I do feel that I cannot let her learn this early in life that giving into these people, no these terrorist losers', is the way forward. It is not a message I want her to take to heart. at 11 years old.  I've therefore decided that if the school do go ahead as planned then she should go with them. With less kids it'll be more fun anyways!! So that decision is at the school is tomorrow at 5pm ...

Then on Wednesday afternoon, 1315 hours, it is school sports day. Two hours of trying to stand around, being in pain, being near people and also... being near that foul woman and her family who I fell out with. She has a large family around her wherever she goes versus little old broken me plus they are school governors, on the PTFA etc. and they all glower at me for having 'upset' their poor daughter, wife, mother etc. just because I admitted my #mentalhealth issues to her whilst we were having a heated discussion! She said they were irrelevant to her and I lost interest from there onwards.

Right I'm off to catch some rays....

 

0909 hrs Thursday 15/6/17

So I find myself very apprehensive today. Stomach churning, blinding headache. Joints all seized to the extent I couldn't get out of bed without rolling off the mattress this morning, followed by having to bum shuffle down the stairs. For those of you that do not understand Fibromyalgia, when I am put under psychological stress my body reacts with seizing up and extreme pain. It's almost like the brain is trying to stop me going anywhere in full awareness of the negative impact the days plans will have on me. In a warped way it's my body trying to protect me and yet it just bloody hurts and makes me feel really disabled.

Of course for those twitter followers that know my story, today is case conference day, no 2, for my sickness absence from the police service as a result of depression, anxiety and Fibromyalgia. Now approaching six months.

That's this afternoon at 1330 hours so I suspect I'll write another chunk later. For now my headache is making typing difficult as it's not just any old headache. My head hurts from the neck upwards, its sore to turn my head and stiff to even look down at the keyboard, and my forehead feels like there is someone inside with a pick axe mining for something....brain maybe!

I also need to contact the IODPA very soon, the Injury On Duty Pensioners Association. They might be able to shine a light into my darkness as to the likelihood of ill health retirement and whether I might ever be a candidate. So that's on my 'to do' list for today as well.

Right off to have some breakfast, watch some Jeremy Kyle (hides head in shame!) then dog walk, bath and ready for my appointment .....

0936 hours Wednesday 14/6/17

So as of today I have decided to adopt a diary format for my blog.

I have for years kept a written diary that recorded my thoughts and feelings as time went by. Up until this juncture in regards this blog I have found a topic that is bothering me or that I wanted to explore, then sat down and let my fingers do the talking. However of late I have found that style has been hampering my ability to write effectively as I have felt I had covered 'all' the topics that would interest a stranger, so have written less and less blogs.

As of today I intend to sit and write a lot more regularly using all the detritus that is floating about my vacant head space at any given point in time.

As I sit writing this I am watching the horrors of the Grenfell Tower fire, the tower block in London, still unfolding to the nation via Good Morning Britain. I am not shamed to say that I have shed a tear or two watching the horrific images of people waving things at windows as they tried to attract the attention of the emergency services in what we now know was probably a vain attempt to attract rescue. I cannot help but look to the future and find myself considering the #mentalhealth of personnel who have and still are entering those 'houses of horror'.

Yesterday I had another day's worth of help from Save Our Soldier the charity that to date have already provided me with upwards of thirty hours of therapy to tackle what they believe to be my PTSD symptoms from 28 years worth of police service. In my last blog I looked at my feelings of negativity and the belief that I was not making any progress towards recovery, so yesterday we looked in depth at cultivating emotional resilience to allow me to find a life of wellbeing. We spent time exploring the concept that we can all step back from ourselves and observe ourselves in almost the third person. I need to accept that life in my future may never ever be the same again and that I need to find a way of accepting that, a way of understanding that  'I am enough'.

Fibromyalgia is a long term condition that will not just go away. It creates extreme pain in various areas of my body all of which I can say without any doubt get a lot, lot worse when I am under psychological pressure. I have to come to an understanding whereby I almost have to allow myself the permission to plan ahead and take life a lot more carefully. I need to stop battling with myself. What became clear to me yesterday is that I have been beating myself up because I can get back to being my 'old' self. I cannot just plough on through anything and everything expecting my body and brain to keep up. I may never ever have those same abilities again but that does not make me the failure I thought it did. I do not have to feel guilty or ashamed because I fear never being able to don a uniform again,  to be able to go about strenuous physical or psychological activities. There is no shame there. I am enough.

What I need to do is find my self esteem, locate the hope for my future, develop a curiosity for my life and discover a positive attitude towards my life. I need to develop psychological flexibility, an ability to accept who I am now, not what or who I have been, not who I thought I had to get back to being but who I am now and what I can achieve as the me of today. I felt shame. I felt guilt. I thought I had to get back to somebody I used to be. But my body is unwilling, my brain has been battling the notion for many months. Yesterday I realised that I can exist without my past self, I can wrap my arms around the person I find myself to be today and offer myself self compassion. There is a future without my past self, I can let her go in peace. I can stop trying to be something I am not. I am enough.

The therapist and I looked at 'What if's'

Our brains need to ponder, to pull thoughts apart. To mull things over. If left unattended it will mull over the negatives. What if I die. What if I cannot be a police officer ever again' What if I have a terminal illness being masked by Fibromyalgia's symptoms. However we can give our brains positive 'What if's' instead. Debbie called them juicy fodder for the brain. So we worked on finding positive 'what if's' for me. They are listed on the board photographed below.

Debbie identified that I have been feeling like a bird in a cage being stalked by a cat. She wants me to get to a position whereby I feel like that cat. A cat that always lands on it's feet as opposed to the trapped bird who is fearful of the world and life itself.

I am enough.

My story to date....

I am a police officer with 28 years service although I had a five year career break so effectively I actually have 23 years served.  I find myself on long term sick leave for the second time in three years. I've been diagnosed with Depression, Anxiety and Fibromyalgia and I am medicated for these things. I had a short period of sick leave with stress in 2002.

After I returned to work two years ago after a six month absence with depression nothing in my workplace really changed barring one risk assessment that was done, albeit half heartedly and with tongue in cheek. The same supervisor annoyingly expressed surprise that I still had depression and was taking tablets a few weeks before this my second breakdown at Christmas 2016.

After reporting sick this Christmas just gone I was immediately referred by the force to the Occupational Health Nurse, interestingly this does not happen with physical illnesses, yet within a week there I was crying uncontrollably. Forty Five minutes passed with questions about when I would be fit for work and what was I doing to help myself get back into the work place etc.. The nurse did tell me as I was wearing make-up which apparently was a good sign that I wasn't that depressed, she also said that everything I said would be reported back to my supervisors.  I didn't say a lot after that.

A month later they sent me back to her again, this time the force had stated in their referral paperwork that I was being uncooperative and distrustful of force policies and sick procedures. She was bemused by this, as was I at the time, but it did upset me greatly.

In March 2017 I self referred to Safe Horizons UK who in turn passed me along to Save Our Soldier and Debbie Banks was thankfully sent my way.

At the beginning of April 2017, I was contacted for the first time by my welfare department,  oddly enough this came two days before I was due to attend a case conference about my sickness absence at a police building! Call me cynical but....?!!

I went to the conference with my federation representative, there was a panel of my boss, a Human Resources representative and the welfare department guy. A further question and answer session went on for 45 minutes throughout which I again cried hysterically! I managed to answer some questions,   I was quizzed about my use of social media and questioned as to why I had been spreading about that I was not getting any help from the force when it was me that had told them not to contact me?
I told them that I had approached a charity for help which seemed to unsettle them, they said they'd need to check how credible they were?!
I then asked them to explain their comments on the latest referral to the OH dept.  I'll summarise their replies... apparently my use of social media had been picked up by them when monitoring my blog and twitter feed. The fact that I had asked that a certain 'bully boy' supervisor not to contact me for my statutory 'weekly' calls, was being taken as me asking them not to contact me, plus they said that I had not been wholly open in my first OH session, so taking all these things together equalled me being uncooperative and distrustful.

"We've read your blog and it's obvious from that how mistrustful you are!! "
lostsouls24.blogspot.co.uk

I managed through wracking sobs and hyper ventilation to explain my current phone phobia and dislike of answering or making calls as it tends to cause panic attacks. They agreed to email me in the future. The conference rounded up by deciding I should see a psychologist or a psychiatrist but they were not sure which.

The following day I had an email from the welfare department with the name of a psychologist and a telephone number to call to make myself an appointment! Oh how ironic I thought!

I have now had three whole days help from Debbie Banks via Save Our Soldier and the force have changed their minds about the psychologist referral, asking that I now see a psychiatrist instead but I've yet to get an appointment through the post.

I visited the FMO/OH again last week supposedly to top and tail the psych. referral but she apparently should have gotten my written consent and didn't. I have since done that.

I have now been off sick for 6 months. Luckily my half pay date of 20th June 2017 has been extended by the Chief by three months until 20th September 2017.

I have also had a letter through telling me my job has been abolished through restructuring and when I return I'll need to find a new role.

In 2002 I was in a DS post investigating Operation Ore and child abuse images, a CID post when my CI started sexually harassing me. As a result of 'Ore' we were having to spend a lot of time together and his harassment together with the material we were dealing with pushed me over the edge. I put in a complaint about the CI and the force settled outside of an IT accepting it had all happened. I received a financial pay out.
I would love to see the files on this and my statement etc as my memory of it all is pretty poor. I seemed to have erased a lot of it. Speaking up sabotaged my CID career and I never worked on the dept. again. I was side-lined into uniform briefly and then CID training.

In 2005 upon the birth of my daughter I took a five year career break returning in 2010 to a uniform post before being posted to HQ to work on Complaints & Misconduct from where I am now 'technically' sick.

In 2011 I attended my personal safety training whereby a 'new' technique was being trialled unofficially. The backwards fall manoeuvre led to me smashing my head on the floor and getting a whiplash injury that perpetuated in awful headaches for two years. The federation pursued the force for this incident as several officers were injured at the same time and we all received a pay-out for that too.

I want to leave on ill health but my fed rep thinks it too difficult to achieve before my possible 25 year retirement marker in May 2019. My 30 year marker would be May 2024.

Debbie and I concur that returning to the police would be utterly toxic to my mental health and the knock on to my Fibromyalgia cannot be underestimated.

So here I am as of 19/6/17 awaiting a psychiatrist appointment.

...to be continued...

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.

Finding your own support for #MH

Enough campaigning blogs for now... so back to me.

I am feeling somewhat more useless than normal. The days are evaporating like quality street from the tin at Christmas and very little is changing. What am I supposed to be doing? How does one recover from a mental illness?

Despite the physical pain from my fibromyalgia I'm walking several miles a day. The physical pain seems to mask the psychological misery somewhat and I enjoy the thinking time too.

If my experience over the last two years has taught me anything though, it is that mental health is a little like having an addiction. What? Give over, you say...!! I can hear your confusion from here!  

Let me explain my theory, addictions creep up on you but are often visible to loved ones long before yourself, the same thing occurs with mental illness and depression especially. Tackling the issue of your addiction/mental illness is nigh impossible until the sufferer looks in the mirror and sees themselves for what they have become. Especially true in relation to your mental health. Until you can look in that mirror and see the real you, not the fake you, then you cannot possibly hope to start working towards a better state of mind. I happen to think that once you have suffered from a mental illness then it will always be with you, you may learn coping strategies, use mindfulness, undergo counselling, yoga etc. but essentially in my opinion/experience you will still always have your mental illness wrapped away in your coping parcel, much like a pass the parcel gift, but this one is safely tucked away in the corner of your mind. How well your mental health is from day to day, month to month, may well depend on how many layers of paper get ripped off your parcel by any given set of circumstances.

Mental Health does fluctuate, it is not a rigid thing, some days are good, some are bad. Some days the sun shines and some days it does not. Sometimes there is root cause, sometimes there is no explanation for the darkness but the fluidity of mental health is perhaps one of the most difficult aspects to grasp, especially for those around us.  When the black dog comes bounding our way, knocking us over before ripping off those last layers of paper from our coping parcels you have no choice but to accept it. There is no choice about mental health, I do not choose to me a miserable cow, the darkness descends, the world seems evil, there is no hope, everything is pointless and I'm instantly the biggest waste of space around. The following day however I can feel carefree, happy go lucky, talented, excited for the future and mildly content with my lot. There is no on and off button, the cards get dealt and you have to play the hand life gives you. Some days its a good hand, others its shockingly crap and can only mean defeat.

So perhaps if I look in the mirror what do I see at the moment..

Well I'm still broken, I accept I have depression, anxiety and have a Fibromyalgia diagnosis. The reality of that is being anxious continually, waiting for the inevitable bad thing to happen. I don't know what it is but if you live with anxiety there is always a prickle at the back of my neck warning me that danger is close. Anxiety means I live in a permanent state of crisis, the door gets knocked and my heart races, adrenaline starts to pump, I become breathless, my head spins, my neck stiffens and panic takes hold. Why you ask? Who knows?! Wish I did!
Telephone calls freak me right out, I've mentioned it before but dear lord they make me feel so ill. The phone rings and in that split second my heart feels like it is going to leap out of my chest, I feel like running and hiding. I don't of course but telephones currently make me cry.

So am I making any progress? Well I have got the diagnosis since being off sick, I have a referral to the pain clinic, and then my big news...

Last week whilst sat on my sofa crying again, (I need shares in a tissue company) I realised that no one was coming to help me. I think I had expected somebody to take charge and tell me what I needed to do but they hadn't arrived. With no partner to help, no family interested in helping I have to dig myself out of the pit and that's no mean feat let me tell you. It's taken nearly three months of psychological, and physiological pain to find the courage and mental stamina to ask for help. Thankfully it has all been done by email.

I had been recommended a charity that dealt with police officers suffering from PTSD.  The founder's husband suffered with PTSD from his police service and Claire had helped him through it. She's an expert at police rules and regulations these days and offers support o any police officer and/or their families. So having been told about her by a twitter buddy (one of my make believe friends, in joke with my tweeps!)  I went to her charities Safe Horizons UK web site and filled in their on line enquiry form and with a shaking hand and tears rolling down my face I hit the send key.

Within 30 minutes Claire McDowall herself had sent me a lovely email, the tears didn't stop running down my face but I knew I had made the right decision to ask for help. We emailed a little before she thought I needed help from a partner charity called Save Our Soldiers and she put me in touch with them. The Save Our Soldiers web site runs an online chat session with people asking for help, so I chatted to Daniel and he asked about my needs, requirements, problems. It was much like a Messenger conversation in format and speed. Daniel explained that they had counsellors and coaches nationwide who helped with PTSD and he told me he would source one for me locally and come back to me by email as I requested.
Now after that session I sat back feeling I had achieved a lot. I was quite stunned by people offering help so readily, but little did I know that my new coach would be in touch within another 30 minutes...wow!

Debbie Banks made contact offering me her services, asking me how she could help.
Well my gast was well and truly flabbered! All that amazing help and support within hours of asking for it. This is what the police service should be doing for its officers and staff. I have been off sick for nearly three months, in that time I have had a summons twice to attend an occupational health assessment, twice for a case conference to discuss how to get me back to work (well once I didn't attend the first one arranged), and the welfare department contacted me today asking what they could do to help.

Debbie has been in contact regularly since then and is actually coming up to Dorset for two whole days to help me...
Not an hour session every six weeks like Steps2Wellbeing or other counsellors I have encountered but she is travelling to Dorset for two whole days  to work with me. No one has ever done that for me, not even family.
I'm scared to death of it, don't get me wrong, but despite wanting to cancel it, or run away from it, I do know my future depends on sorting out my head.

My last piece of current affairs information is that I have my works case conference on Thursday afternoon, 23/3/17, where they'll be discussing how to get me back to work. Looking forward to that one lots as you can imagine!

That's all for now my fellow black dog cops.

Open Letter to Police Supervisors - Mental Health

Dear Sir / Ma'am,

I write this open letter to the supervisors of the police service.

I am a police sergeant with 28 years service. I have been diagnosed with depression, anxiety and Fibromyalgia. In the last two years I have reported sick for two extended periods as a result of this diagnosis. As a tool for self reflection, but also as a means of helping others I have been writing a blog detailing my experiences and describing the struggles I have with my mental health.

This process has led to me making contact with numerous fellow officers and sufferers who are spread out over many force areas. They have shared their local experiences of suffering with mental health to me and without exception they have described how let down they feel, they have been vilified, unsupported some have even told me they cannot face telling anybody at work at all due to the perceived climate of mistrust and stigma.

These officers have left me to wanting to ask you some pertinent questions. They won't make me popular with you, they won't endear me to anybody but they might just prick at your conscience enough to consider making some changes.

As a police officer with senior rank in the police service do you feel you have a reasonable knowledge of mental illness? Not so much in regards of our service users but in respect of us the service providers, i.e. your staff?

For instance if someone asked you to describe the symptoms of depression, anxiety or PTSD to your peers, could you? Would you recognise these symptoms in a colleague I wonder?

If you believe you do have this knowledge and understanding of mental illnesses, would you consider you are also able to empathise with these officers/staff who are suffering from mental health issues?

Does your force support officers / staff who voluntarily come forward to notify their supervisors that they are suffering with mental illness if they do not need to take sick leave?

Have you put policies and procedures in place to ensure officers / staff are protected from stigma and career blighting hostilities' that exist in the police service of today?

If an officer or staff member who is at this very moment struggling with their mental health and is in need of support and guidance in your force area who would be there to assist them?

If an officer under your command rang in sick today and cited depression and/or anxiety what would your force welfare support entail?

Are you signed up with MIND and their Blue Light campaign? Are you aware of the charities nationally reaching out to mentally ill police officers?

Do you have a buddy scheme, ready access to counselling services or advice leaflets/apps for staff?

If you are of a rank above constable within the police service and you manage staff, and you truthfully hand on heart were to swear an oath on somebody you love dearly and then answer these questions, would you be content for your answers to be published openly for your staff to read? Think about that a minute... pure honesty...publicly?

28 years ago when I joined the police service, the place female officers held within the service was wholeheartedly different from today. Attitudes had to change, people were re-educated. If many high ranking officers had been asked a similar set of questions relating to female police officers back in the 'old days' I am fairly confident their answers if read out today, would be perceived as sexist, draconian and quite probably subject to the Standards of Professional Behaviour.

Today, in the here and now, the police service must face another battle and this time over mental health issues. The service has to take a long hard look at the way the vast proportion of  police officers / staff are being dealt with and discriminated against if they suffer from any mental health illnesses.

In these times of cuts backs, falling staff numbers, media pressures and harsh criticisms which come our way on frankly daily basis, which with the best will in the world will always feel personal then you add to that mix our historic and unhealthy dose of existing PTSD plus further trauma laden workloads the numbers of police officers suffering from mental health illnesses is only going to increase and let me tell you from where I am sitting it is pretty damn high already.

If you answered that you knew what mental illness was, and could recognise it in a colleague would you also understand what it is a sufferer needs from you as a result? Because knowing, understanding and then in turn empathising are all poles apart from each other, all requiring enhanced skill sets.

Do you know what policies and procedures exist in your force for officers/staff suffering from mental health illnesses, are there any at all? What support could you direct a sufferer to if necessary? What does your welfare department do for people suffering with depression and anxiety?

So far in seven weeks, I have had £30 of M&S vouchers sent to me from our welfare fund in an envelope with the standard typed letter. I have not had any contact from a person in the welfare department offering me support.
I was summonsed within two weeks to occupational health where as mentioned in previous blog I was asked to explain my depression whilst crying solidly for an hour. I was told everything I said was going to be divulged to my supervisors. I was told wearing make-up showed I wasn't that depressed! I saw a nurse/practitioner who is not specifically mentally health trained and I am seeing her again tomorrow. I also have a case conference with HR, my supervision, welfare and my fed rep on Thursday to discuss my sickness absence. (stand-by for a blast of hot air on Friday covering both!)

There are many of you out there that tut and roll your eyes at the mention of someone suffering with stress or depression. I have watched you, I have listened to you and your derogatory, belittling comments. I have worked for you whilst you blindly ignore my mental health. I have waited patiently for some form of peer support group to be launched, I have expected some interaction with Mind's Blue Light campaign. I am still waiting, whilst us sufferers are shunned, we are put in the too difficult category and clearly we are not believed by some senior officers.

For if you are a non believer in Mental Health and you don't 'get it' or even want to try and 'get it' and I say to you that I suffer with my mental health, you cannot possibly believe that I am ill can you? You must therefore think when I am signed off sick that I am actually swinging the lead, skiving, having a paid holiday? You certainly cannot think that I am going through hell and clinging on to my sanity by a tiny thread.

Officers recount to me senior officers ensuring that they lose their specialist posts, senior officers blindly moving sufferers from their sections/departments or even off into a broom cupboard. Some senior officers ignore officers/sufferers who have identified in themselves a need for some respite in order to remain healthy. It takes bottle and bravery to ask to move out of a traumatic role either temporarily or permanently so why would you leave them high and dry, out on a limb getting more poorly until eventually they do end up reporting sick? Is this any way to motivate and support your staff when they are ill? Clearly not which brings me back to my original point, this is how skivers and lead swingers are punished, held accountable isn't it?

Therefore it is clear that you do not think these officers are ill, you do not believe they are suffering desperately and in need of support do you?

Shame on you, the very foundations of our service was firmly rooted in us all belonging to a police family, with shared ideals and values, yet this seems a fact readily ignored if not glossed over. 

Sir/Ma'am, when it comes to mentally ill police officers/staff, are you and the police family who follow your guidance really quite happy to leave us out here in the cold, to walk away from us, to turn your backs on us,  to pretend 'our sort' don't exist for fear of being tainted by our demons I wonder?

The bottom line is officers/staff are suffering in silence for fear of the retribution they will face for acknowledging they have a mental illness, if they do open up they suffer the consequences of at best a total lack of understanding/empathy and at worst non-belief and being labelled accordingly. The stigma has to end and only the officers of your rank and standing can make that happen.

I do not profess to have all the answers but I can and do recognise the problems at hand in regards of the police service and its numerous suffering police officers, do you?

It is one thing to talk the talk, management speak if you like, however it is an entirely different thing altogether to walk the walk. Can you help change the service, can you help end the stigma?

Let's see some real change please?

Yours Sincerely

A Depressed, Anxious, Sergeant from a force near you.