My mental health in the police service...

So lots to catch up on...

I guess the biggest news is that I fell off my perch again. I have been trying to think about new analogies' for my depression and I conjured up these two...

Number one - A game of Snakes and ladders is after all just a kids version of life. There are plenty of snakes out there who want to see you 'go down' and there are plenty of ladders too if you're healthy enough to attempt the climbs. Throwing the dice, pure chance, again like a lot of life. Being in the right place at the right time and not what you know but who you know are mantras I am all too familiar with and are positive experiences if you are on the right side of them. A lot of my life I am content climbing those ladders and throwing those die, however once and a while my anxiety and depression kick me down a snake. Sometimes one of those small ones where you only lose a few squares but sometimes it gets me from the top of the board to bottom in just one throw. Floored, having to start afresh again...

Number Two - also equates to a game I recall from childhood that used to be on television as part of a UK kids television show called crackerjack. The game I think was called 'Double or Drop' although I could be wrong on that but essentially a child was handed one toy, boxed or otherwise after another until they could hold no more. Then they were told they could double their winnings beyond what they were already holding  by taking just one more parcel without dropping all the others.

That's my life, me stood on a raised platform being given parcels to hold, daughters bullying, work anxiety, family politics, cleaning, shopping, bills, car servicing and so on until I get to that place where I know if I take one more parcel I am likely to drop the lot. I always do though, take the next parcel that is, as the lure of wining is just too great.

Then inevitably it happens, in trying to take that one extra parcel, in pushing myself just that bit further I drop every single one of my parcels that I'm holding on to for dear life.

Or I slip from top to bottom of that snakes and ladders board and bam the world spins and I end up a blithering wreck back in the doctors waiting room.

It was coming for weeks, I think I even blogged about feeling the wobble of my Jenga blocks... (I do so like a good analogy!) but they've toppled and I've fallen by the wayside. I also think the more often you fall that maybe it gets harder to get back up again? This is my third major episode in adulthood, one was fourteen years ago, one was almost three years and now another. I was already wobbling but then over Christmas 2016 my beloved Penny Dog, a loyal friend of fourteen years, who actually saved me the first time around, died and taking her to the vet to be put to sleep was brutal.

So brutal in fact that it was the final parcel so to speak, so not only did I fall but I crashed and burned into the dirt big time taking all my parcels with me.

I kidded myself for a few days that I would bounce right back after I'd had a good few days of crying but I didn't and here I am again having to break the news to work bosses. Going to the doctors and admitting another defeat.

At the moment I'm feeling completely ruined but I keep trying to bolster myself up with the previous successes I've had at pulling myself out of the dirt. Watch this space and I'll try and keep a progress log of how things go third time around.

I have also helped write a piece on #MentalIllness for #Police magazine which is utterly frank and truthful about my personal experiences of mental health within the police service.

There is a lot of talk about what 'we' do to support people in the service who are suffering from mental health problems but personally to date I've not seen any practical evidence of that, I've just heard and read the words. The smoke screen as you like.  However let me clarify this is a personal blog, about me and what I feel and think. My experiences...

I'll let you in to a little Police secret... those strong, competent, astute, brave, police officers who go out  into our societies day in and day out, night in and night out, festive season or not, are human beings!
Shock horror, I know its a lot to take in!!
Another secret...they have feelings, they have families and they are made of the same stuff you are! Who would have guessed!

We break like anybody else but our police culture is such that coping and being the problem solvers is what we do and what we're expected to do come rain or shine. When we break we think we can and should just fix our own problems, after all that's what we do.
So generally we tell nobody of our woes as we think it'll spoil the illusions we've created of us being some kind of superheroes who don't bleed or feel.
When we realise that we can't actually fix ourselves or reboot there often comes another phase, a period of time where we 'womble' around!! Now when 'we' the afflicted womble about we look just the same as your normal common or garden problem solver, yet this wombling soul will be much like a robot whose programming has corrupted. We may talk slightly oddly or slowly. We may sit staring off in to space. We may snap with fury at the smallest provocation yet eventually someone will notice the womble and offer help. TAKE IT!!
Eventually the mask or underpants will slip off the womble otherwise and reveal the human being beneath in all their crumpled glory which can have catastrophic repercussions if it happens at the wrong 'job' or with the wrong 'client'

Have you been, or are you being a womble? Do you know a womble you could help?

Mr or Mrs, even Miss or Master Womble ... Don't wait until you drop your parcels or slip down that snake... go and get yourself some help you deserve it x

Mental Health & Debt

I saw something on the television this morning that struck a chord with me. They were talking about the connection between mental health problems and debt.

In recent times since I got more of a handle on my depression and anxiety spending.

Today though I have thought back to the days when getting myself into terrible debt was a regular occurrence and come to my own conclusions as to why I ran up those debts. I have considered and not for the first time, whether it was because of my mental health.

If Mental Health was a player,  I think it would  have been because I was trying to buy myself self esteem by getting nice clothes, flattering hair cuts, posh things that I thought people would be jealous of thinking they may think better of me for having flash things. Of course it has never worked; I am no more of a person now for all those purchases than I would have been without them.

Initially as I reflected I wanted to blame my Mother for the debts and my spending habits. She would never let me control my own money as a child therefore I never understood the value of money and I was thinking that, that’s maybe why I have always spent and spent and spent. But although I think my Mother and her lack of caring, and loving do contribute to a lot of my my mental health issues I think my actual spending problems were actually rooted in something far deeper and more sinister than even she should take credit for in their entirety.

I first started working straight out of school at sixteen years old, joining the police service at nineteen. I think upon reflection it started then, the anxiety, the lack of confidence and the depression. Of course there are several key life events along the way that have now magnified and enhanced the problems to where they are now. The last 28 years of my life have certainly had there ups and downs, whose life hasn’t, but no matter how much money I have spent I never seemed to be happy, or to be able to purchase that anxiety free world that I think I am ultimately after.

Is that it then, the route of the spending problems, is that me trying to buy happiness?

By no means was my depression and anxiety ever as bad as it is now back in the early days although my body has always had a habit of getting physically ill when I am up to my neck in something psychologically taxing or stressful. But gradually over the years if I was feeling down or empty I would head to the shops and indulge myself. Sometimes I bought ridiculous things that never ever saw the light of day again and often I would stand in shops considering the validity of spending the money but invariably my heart would overrule the logic of my brain the purchase would be made. Even when I knew there was no money and it got placed onto credit cards and even when the credit card ran out of credit I would just get another one. When the credit card repayments got too much I’d then take out a loan to pay them off and start all over again. Catalogues, store cards on and on and on until the debt around my neck then exacerbated my anxiety one hundred per cent. I have created a vicious circle of debt, anxiety, more debt, and then more anxiety. Being in debt is soul destroying and you think people look at you as if you are a brainless idiot, well you are, but brainless because it is incapacitated by illness and by your own feelings of inadequacy. The inadequacy that you were trying to erase with nice things, the happiness and love you were trying to buy they all then just end up even further away than when you started your whole sorry journey of spending.

So that’s what I have been thinking about today. I think the debts that I have run up and paid off over the years all stem from emptiness, from the void I feel in my life. I have tried to buy happiness, buy my way to positivity and fulfilment. I have been on the a merry-go-round of anxiety, spend,  debt, equals more anxiety, so spend more and get into more debt!  On and on and on. And even though I know what these issues are, I am still fighting them, I still fight the spending urge. Like an addict it is a habit that is hard to break. I guess it is an addiction because that small emotional pay off I get, that warm feeling of satisfaction for buying something glorious does for a few hours make me happy and less anxious.

Ultimately though peace of mind is something that cannot be bought, and anxiety is something that refuses to be paid off.

15/11/16

Death, guilt and signs from beyond ...

I was busily checking my Facebook timeline on Thursday morning when I saw something that pierced my heart and made me feel very sad and tearful.

If you have read my blog in the past you will know all about my family and issues with my Mother. In a nutshell my Dad left her for another woman in 2002/2003 and my mum issued me with an ultimatum. She said I should dump my Dad or she would never speak to me again.

I didn't dump my Dad, she has had nothing to do with me ever since.

My daughter was born in 2005 and she met my Mother once at a family do around 2009, somewhat by fluke as opposed to planning, but nothing since, not even a birthday card.

I wrote to my Mum when I was pregnant offering to try and arrange some form of contact with my unborn child so that they could at least know each other even if we were at odds. She wrote back saying 'it was a fate worse than death'.

My Mum is one of four children born to parents in Cornwall in 1948. Two boys and two girls.

I haven't spoken with her since that day that she issued me with her ultimatum, never likely to now I would say.

Because of the issues with Mum the other brothers and sister have found it very, very difficult over the years to play on both sides of the fence so to speak. They donned a 'Team Mum' shirt and always sounded like they thought I was lying to them when I discussed the situation. Whenever I visited I had to book an appointment so as not to coincide with Mother. It made me feel dirty, unwanted, unloved.  After 4-5 years of this stunted relationship I stopped contacting them. They didn't contact me. We let sleeping dogs lie.

In the mean time my grandfather and their dad died of old age. It was deemed unsuitable for me to attend the funeral, apparently it would have upset the proceedings.

On Thursday 27/10/16, I discovered through a Facebook post from my Mums younger brother that my Mums sister had died of cancer on Tuesday evening. I hadn't even known she was ill. Devastation.

I sobbed all day, through grief but also guilt I think.

Not to dissimilar to me in age she had been the younger sister I had never had. She showed me the ways of the world! She taught me about men, drinking and was just so loving, so kind and gentle. So unlike her older sister. I used to ask her 'why couldn't you have been my Mum?' She'd always reply 'oh my bird she loves you really'. She called me bird you see, a colloquial term of endearment.

Shell shocked and sad I've pondered the events. I feel like I should have risen above the crap and kept in touch. I would like to have said good-bye and I love you. I feel robbed, punished and wronged. If I didn't already despise my Mother I do now. In fact I feel like the universe took the wrong sister. She was mid 50's and did not deserve to leave yet, maybe she had learnt what she needed to move on to the next phase of this universe and our tests?

I feel selfishly that I was in a bad place anyways before this shit hit the fan and I'm wobbling more and more as my proverbial 'Jenga' game (discussed in last blog) heads towards the deck more and more with each passing hour.

I have work tomorrow and all the ensuing cack that goes with dealing with complaints for a living and I'm dreading it so much.

Last night as I passed my dormant computer in the pitch black to let my dogs out for a night-time wee the screen activated. It never does that! Normally you have to click the mouse and hit the enter key. There on the screen was a bird, very colourful sat on a perch. Not one of my usual screen savers at all, never seen it before or since.  I stood shocked wondering if I was imagining it or maybe still dreaming. I turned to let the dogs out, shaking my head and at that moment it powered down again and was gone.

I'm hoping that was Tina dropping by to let me know she's okay and to acknowledge that she knows I loved her dearly. Hopefully love really does transcend our human bonds...

30/10/16

Assessment phone call

I've just spent fifty minutes on the telephone to Steps2Wellbeing for my 'assessment' phone call, as referred by my GP.
What an odd experience that was. I found the endless questions that started on a scale of 1-8 how..... very disconcerting. I appreciate and understand the purpose but trying to compartmentalise the way you feel into survey type questions is really off putting.
Then she asked me what sort of therapy I thought I needed? Throwing the ball into my court so to speak! There was me thinking you'd tell me I wanted to scream back at her! So I asked her what there was available not really knowing and therefore struggling to answer her. So she starts rambling on about low intensity telephone based/computer input with a workbook, or high intensity counselling or high intensity CBT. Crikey it all sounded like a work out schedule!
Again having outlined the available therapies she threw the ball back into my court.... All I can say is it's a good job I've been self reflecting and writing things down over the last few days as it gave me a small heads up as to how I am really feeling and what I feel I really need.
As I had explained and rambled away to her on the phone I began to realise that it's more than possible that all my issues stem right back to my over bearing, psychologically tortuous Mother who bullied me unrelentingly throughout my childhood and way on into my adult years. I was explaining to her how I had had a period of stress and counselling back in 2002 and it then dawned on me as I was explaining it that this was around the time my Dad had his affair and left my Mother.
It was also at this juncture that Mother and I had a blazing row on the telephone around the subject and she gave me an ultimatum. 'Ditch your Dad and have nothing more to do with him or I want nothing more to do with you.' She put the emotional thumb screws on saying he'd wronged her and how could I want anything to do with him. I recall arguing back that he had done wrong but that I could still have both of my parents in my life. It was at this point that she started screaming abuse down the telephone and I said I was going to end the call if she continued to abuse me. She continued and I hung up. I have not spoken to her from that day to this.
In 2005 when I had my daughter I wrote to her offering her the opportunity to have a relationship with Ellie if not me. She wrote back telling me it was a 'fate worse than death' and that she would one day tell my darling daughter what a bitch her Mum really was. Charming!
For several years thereafter I tried to maintain a relationship with my family (her relatives) in Cornwall but as she saw them a lot and she seemed to have told them her own version of events and I felt myself turning into a black sheep and for what?
Dad and his new lady Sue married several days after Ellie was born. I wasn't invited.  It took me a while to accept Sue but I did and she was an incredible woman but sadly as I said in a previous blog she has recently passed away.
When I look back at it all I think the way I am, the damaged individual I have become, my history, my family is more than likely where all these issues started.


The lady on the telephone agreed and we decided that one to one counselling to deal with the past was paramount before then perhaps moving to CBT type work. Then the blow.....there's a long waiting list I think she said. I'll get the admin staff to call you but it'll be quite a while before we can help! Great I thought!


Whilst I'm airing my thoughts on family... I haven't spent one single Christmas with my family in 20 years? I haven't been invited to share Christmas or birthdays in that long. Is that normal?
I also recall one Christmas on my own when my parents were still together them ringing me and regaling me with the tales of all the lovely social functions they had planned for the festive season and Christmas Day. They then asked me what I was doing for Christmas Day....I'm on my own I said, I'll have a ready meal for one. Oh enjoy that then was the response. No invite, no love just rejection.


I recall when my relationship with my daughters Dad was failing and I just had to escape from the house I paid for a holiday property down near where my Dad and Sue lived. I was hoping that I would feel the love, maybe they'd want to help me or see me. Ellie was quite small. As it was they didn't really seem that interested all week until they then agreed to come and spend a day with me. I was so excited. I got Ellie up early, bathed her, dressed her in beautiful clothes and went through quite a ritual preparing ourselves for a 'family' day. Then Dad rang and cancelled. Sorry I have my books to do for the accountant I can't afford the time. My world collapsed and I remember sitting on the bed howling in despair. He offered me a crumb by saying come to lunch tomorrow...bring something to eat?! So daft old me ..I did. Whilst I was there Sue managed to drop a clanger by telling me what a lovely day they'd had at the garden centre the day before. Well what a punch in the guts that was I can tell you.
In fact I only ever stayed over with Dad and Sue once. The morning after the 'night' so to speak I wasn't offered breakfast and our bags were brought down from the spare room and put by the front door for us! Bit of a clue I thought to leave!!


Are these the reasons I don't socialise... because I'm scared of rejection?
If you can't trust your parents to love you, cherish you and want to spend time with you, why would anyone else want you?
Is that why I feel like a nothing and a nobody?


I love my Dad dearly but he's always pushed me away, there's always been something more important to do or somebody more important to spend the time with.


Soul searching over for the day...............more laters x