Permanency and ill health retirement. Or Not!!

So the time is ticking by and I am getting somewhat twitchy about a few things.

Supportive people can explain the logistics will work, federation reps can promise that things 'should' go smoothly but when it is your life, your finances, your grocery shopping in jeopardy, going onto half pay seems to be all the more daunting.

Since August I have visited our new force medical officer, the occupational health doctor and she has made it clear to me that she thinks it is highly unlikely that with my various medical complaints I will ever be fit to do my job as a police officer ever again.

I have chronic debilitating Fibromyalgia with no known cure, I have PTSD, I suffer with Depression, I struggle with Anxiety and I have two prolapsed discs, but she feels after nine months off sick that it is too early to ask any questions of my force about ill health retirement as she says the application would fail at this juncture as we have not exhausted all possible medical remedies/cures.
She says we might be ready in 6-9 months time.

They all say I have to prove 'permanency' , that my illnesses cannot be cured, that I will not be magically restored to full health to serve out my last 2 years of my 30 years service.

What a complete joke this system of ours currently is!

Show me the hoops and I will jump through them all, I will moan and groan, I will post on twitter how dissatisfied I am, but I will do whatever you ask of me to establish the facts to satisfy you, but when you do not specify the hoops, when you leave me in what has been described as a 'fluid' situation what the hell am I meant to do?
It's like playing hide and seek in the dark, whilst blindfolded, with your hands and feet tied.

It is so flipping riling!

I am suffering with an illness that induces me to suffer extreme pain when I get stressed or tired!!

I wonder what they think in their ivory admin towers, Oh I know let's take away half of her pay, tell her that in another 6 months we will stop paying her altogether and then make any escape from our employment as improbable to conquer as reaching the summit of Everest alive! GRRR

To what end? Whom does it serve? I gather the government because they fine any police force that let's an officer retire on ill health! Or should I say Theresa May? Of course it's all chuffing marvellous for a single parent, crippled with a variety of ills who simply cannot work anymore.

It seems like the only person who could start sorting the mess out is me, but I'm a shell of my former self and the mere idea of fighting my own corner seems horrifying. Should I be paying out of my half wage to visit pompous over priced 'experts' to prove my 'permanency'? I could I guess but then I wouldn't be able to pay the utilities and I'd have to rely on a food bank.

Ultimately I am told it will be just one person, an SMP, Selected Medical Practitioner, who gets to decide if my woes add up to permanency and early release! Not a panel, not a jury just one solitary  person. I'd stand more chance of release if I'd murdered someone!

There is a set order of procedure and before any decision can be made the police authority must put specific questions to this medical practitioner selected by them (the ‘selected medical practitioner’) to determine whether I am permanently disabled for ‘the performance of the ordinary duties of a member of the police force’. The selected medical practitioner will consider such issues as my ability to:

• run, walk reasonable distances, and stand for reasonable periods;
• exercise reasonable physical force in restraint and retention in custody;
• sit for reasonable periods, to write, read, use the telephone and to use (or learn to use) IT;
• make decisions and report situations to others;
• evaluate information and to record details;
• understand, retain and explain facts and procedures.

Even if I'm assessed as permanently disabled for the performance of the ordinary duties, it does not automatically mean that I will be retired on ill-health grounds.  The police authority will consider my specific disabilities and overall capabilities to see whether there are alternative duties which I could undertake whilst remaining a police officer!

If and it seems like a big IF I was found by the selected medical practitioner to be permanently disabled for ordinary duties and there were no suitable alternative duties that I could undertake the police authority 'may' decide whether to retire me or not!

At the very least it's all so frustrating, at the worst it borders on being downright inept, exceptionally stressful and seemingly unfair.

Just let me go, please. Pretty please?

I'm broken, I'm a recluse and I'm soon to be broke!

Cut me loose, I want some sort of life back that isn't governed by stress and pain.

SIGNED -  A broken. chewed up, mangled mess of a former police officer.

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....

 

My first video for #MentalHealthAwarenessWeek #TalkMH

My reluctance to engage!

It's been a while since I put fingers to the keyboard. After suggestions from work that intimated they did not like my social media stance, and my subsequent paranoia about that, coupled with an assumption on my part that I might be just covering the same old topic each time I blogged so I decided to give everyone a break from my ramblings but now I'm back!

A catch up; I am still signed off sick with Fibromyalgia and Depression and have been now since the 28th December 2016. I am back to my GP tomorrow morning but am no where near ready to return to my police role.

I saw the occupational health worker again on 22nd February 2017 and this time she seemed more tolerant and compassionate. She herself in fact seemed quite put out at the terminology used on the submission form she'd received this time from my supervision which read as follows;

She wanted to know why they had written what they had?

Speaking to my police federation representative some days later he pointed out that my tweets and blogs had indeed shown I was untrustworthy of the force assistance being offered and that in writing what they had the force were actually trying to help me by informing her of my 'block' to accepting assistance?

My direct line manager and I are like a cat and a dog. He winds me up and it is fairly clear that I do him too. He however has the power, which he has used to mess me about on numerous occasions just because he can. I also happen to know he is a none believer when it comes to mental health matters. Therefore when I went sick and he started playing his 'game' I politely asked if I could have another point of contact as he was triggering my anxiety. That you can see has been translated into a reluctance to engage openly with her line management which is not a helpful stance to take if I'm honest.

I am also curious how I can be mistrustful of the forces policies and procedures when I am unaware of any specific policies or procedures in place to target mental health matters, I can only assume this is a dig at my request for another point of contact as per above and for suggesting via social media that the OH worker was out of order on my first visit for suggesting that my depression couldn't be that bad if I had applied make-up.

Anyway back to the form content, the nurse practitioner OH worker seemed as perturbed about their choice of words on the form this time as I was. As I said it has since been put to me that in the circumstances their phraseology was perfectly justified and maybe I am just being over touchy?

The only comment the OH woman made to me this time that jarred a little was telling me she expected me to be '70% fit again' before I returned to work, and there was I hoping to be 100% fighting fit before I entered the arena again! I also recall from experience if I return too early I just end up damaging my mental health more in the long run as I did the last time.

Perhaps it was a reasonable thing to say and I'm just being my normal mistrustful, reluctant self!

My anxiety has been feeding the Fibromyalgia like never before and what seems to be happening at the moment is when I get stressed my head starts to hurt from the neck upwards, so my whole head throbs and it feels like I am stuck in a vice at the ears, then I get really hot and feel ill like you do with a temperature, then my head starts to swim, I cannot think straight and then I feel nauseous and dizzy. It's an absolute nightmare and I am finding it very disabling at the moment.

I was in the middle of driving somewhere with my 11 year old daughter yesterday and we came across a closed road, the main A35 was closed due to a serious accident so we were diverted off down a very narrow country lane. Our destination wasn't that far and I decided to stick with it, but the further we went down the lane the more stuck and jammed up the traffic got and in turn the more stressed I got with the people around me, the muddy banks, the car slipping and sliding about in such close proximity to the other cars etc.  I turned to my daughter and said, 'I'm feeling really ill, I think I may be sick' to which she pointed out that it was my stress and anxiety causing the reaction 'as usual' she added just to make me feel even better!!

(and no I didn't she did!)

Of course she was right, but sadly just knowing what it is doesn't magic it away or help me feel less ill. I had been trying to hide things from my daughter until recently when I got my Fibromyalgia diagnosis. I had thought it was no example for her to see her Mother constantly whinging but the result of that was my pent up anger and frustration. I took it out on her as a grumpy mother not an ill one. So despite it making me feel inadequate I have now explained it all to her. After an initial hurdle of her panicking and thinking I would die she now 'gets it' and I am no longer trying to pretend everything is alright which weirdly helps.

I found this graphic on the internet which sums up the way I feel a lot of the time at the moment, and just to have one person in the world on my side who 'gets' that and does not punish or disbelieve me  is such a relief. The old adage that a problem shared is a problem halved comes to mind.

--------------------------------------------------

If you are suffering from mental health issues currently, or just know that something isn't right then please find someone to talk to, just one person to tell.

It doesn't even have to be someone you know. You will be amazed how much lighter you feel sharing it.

No I know, 'the job' predominantly at the moment does not get it, some forces are exceptional but the majority are not, they are shockingly Dickensian, but there are plenty of us 'job' people out here on social media that do get it and we do support one another whilst things change and improve in house.

Drop me a message, speak up on my time line, have a friendly chat without fear of being judged.

When I finally started shouting out loud about my mental health troubles, that was the first day I could start working out how to deal with them, being in denial just causes pent up anger and frustration to bubble up and poison your life.

Leasa x

Depression's invasive numbness

I have been struggling over the past few days with the invasive numbness that comes with depression.

Its like the mist that creeps off the sea.

One minute you have a glorious sunny day on the beach and the next its overcast and chilly. Within the flip of a coin the mood changes from fun filled day to a depressing and chilly one. The fun goes and it couldn't feel any different a day and all in a split second.  

There's a reason why they always use mist in films to betray creepy, scary, unnerving moments. they want you to feel disorientated, lost and confused.

That's how I feel at the moment, except it feels like I'm not feeling at all in some ways.

Numb, frozen, paused? 

I can't raise a smile to be happy or shed a tear to be sad. I feel lost in no mans land betwixt the two.

My head feels fizzy and slow. Towards the back of my head it feels sore like someone cracked me around the back of the head with a baseball bat. When I try to focus on something its like there's a missing connection, something unplugged. Like putting your foot on a car's accelerator and getting no response. Its wearing and exhausting though, thinking nothing and looking into space or wandering around aimlessly. It's utterly sapping, your strength evaporates like a puddle under the burning hot sun. It makes no sense, sounds utterly pathetic when you need to say it out loud, but you'll know what I mean if you suffer. Limbs filled with lead, you feel like you've done ten exercise classes back to back and then taken the same amount of exams and all on the same day. Mentally and physically exhausted, devoid of the strength of mind or body to function. Like an upturned beetle, going nowhere, vulnerable, panicked, wriggling about using all your energy up but making no progress.

That's partly why I hate being with people at the moment, my brain just doesn't function. They want to make idle chit chat and my head just wants to look dumbly at a plain wall and say nothing at all.

I want to be invisible, I can't be bothered to wash or dress in clean clothes or brush my hair. I just want to be left alone to rot away.

They don't get it, whatever 'it' really is. I have some friends who either don't want to get it or just really cannot grasp it and what it entails when I try and tell them. I've been invited out next weekend and I've said no, but instead of saying okay we understand maybe next time they've got the hump. I'm used to their attitude because it is not the first time,  but I'm getting to the point where I just can't be bothered with them anymore. I don't talk about what's affecting me because it falls on deaf ears and when I see them at clubs or school runs I have now snapped a couple of times and said some less than delicately phrased things! I should apologise really for snapping but its feeling the motivation to even be bothered with that these days too. I don't want to entirely sabotage my social life though if for no other reason than my daughters sake. She loves to see them away from school and play and have fun.

As you all know if you follow me on twitter I had a meeting with the police federation last week to talk about the way forward. I cried a lot, which left me feeling utterly humiliated, not his fault at all but exhausting nonetheless. He talked about the need for there to be a case conference with HR, my line management and  the sooner the better. That was like a punch in the guts, made me feel sick and terrified all at the same time but I have to move forwards and he says that is the best way. He's hoping in doing that, the meeting may result in them agreeing that I need to see a psychiatrist who could then direct some treatment. It seems a bit like I'm being put in a shop window to prove to everyone how unwell I am, like a performing seal. Come look at the nutter she's a snot fest and a gibbering wreck. Roll up, roll up come and see the lamest woman you ever could clap eyes on. watch her blub, she'll make a fool of herself right there in front of your very eyes.
Ugh sorry, the logical side of my brain knows that's tosh but its the way part of me feels about it.

There is not one of us who likes being seen when we're weak, think about it. Have you ever felt vulnerable in public, what did you do? Stand and look weak or make excuses and disappear? If a friend wells up when you're out with them, they'll rush off to the toilet or walk away. Its wholly unnatural to have to bear yourself and your inherent weaknesses in front of others in what inevitably feels like a show to prove to them you are ill.

I have had periods of deep depression before but this is stronger, it's pulling me down more than I have had to fight against before. It's like I'm swimming in the sea in a strong current and I'm fighting against it yet I keep swimming, but somehow I'm drifting away from where I need to be.

Part of me is genuinely scared in case I completely lose control and I end up drowning or worse still being washed out to sea.

Let's hope this meeting doesn't sink me and that I manage to keep on treading water for the time being. I seem to have lost my little boat!! Yet my analogy remains around water?! Freudian though isn't it, as I'm a poor swimmer and quite scared of being out of my depth in the sea!

What's your mental health kryptonite?

Last night I had a horrible dream. Well I guess perhaps it should be described as a nightmare. My eleven year old daughter drowned and died over and over. I felt the hopeless bottomless feeling of despair. A black bottomless pit, you're falling downwards and no one or nothing can stop you. I cried, I grieved. In fact it went on and on what felt like all night and when I woke up I felt so low.

I was overwhelmed to see my daughter, hold her and know she was alive. My pillow was wet and my hair soaked. Not a good night. 

I recount this with you as since my mental health has been bad again I have been having very realistic dreams. So much so that I have to stop myself when I'm awake and try and decipher whether I am remembering a reality or a dream. Quite unnerving.

I'm having a rollercoaster all around with my depression at the moment, two blogs back I was at my lowest, today I am also very low but yesterday and the previous days I was quite content if not reasonably balanced.  I can never tell until I wake up which extreme I am going to find myself at.

Yesterday I realised a lifelong dream and self published my book. I started writing it during my last depressed time two years ago and have worked on it around work ever since. It is kind of auto-biographical as the DS suffers with anxiety and depression and I've used all my personal experiences to create the character of DS Sarah James. Her emotions and difficulties with mental health are me, they are my experiences within the police service. She does my job, on my department. the murder didn't happen but the characters are true to life and it was cathartic to write.

So yesterday I published my masterpiece,  Money for Old Rope by Leasa Wilkes on Amazon Kindle eBooks',  that was a lifetime highlight and very exciting. Of course it was tainted with my normal self doubt, a need to apologise for fostering my work on the world and a massive fear that it is useless but that's fairly standard for me. Paranoia and self doubt figure in everything from parenting to supermarket shopping.  I have however had this daft dream that it will take off and earn me enough money to retire from the cops early allowing me to escape from my demons, but I fear that's just one of my dreams as opposed to a reality!

Yesterday I also had my second, 'how are you' email from work in the month since I have been off sick. Thankfully the boss did email me not ring but I can't help but thinking the timing of his contact means HR have prompted a contact as opposed to someone really caring. I suppose that could be my paranoia talking but that's one e mail every two weeks.

The thought of the office, work and even the people there makes me feel like I want to turn myself inside out. Its a creepy feeling that is somewhere between nausea and a panic attack. Revulsion even.  I feel allergic to an environment that has formed the basis of my working life since I was 19 years old. I now hate it and love it in equal measures, it is my greatest accomplishment yet my biggest weakness all at the same time. It's like my kryptonite, I feel weaker, sicker and darker when I think about work.

I made another step forwards today. I emailed Steps2Wellbeing, a free talking therapy service in the UK.  I was in their system two years ago having counselling but just prior to my fourth session and whilst I was sat waiting to go in I was told the counsellor had gone off sick with stress! Now I have always struggled with the concept of counselling as I recognise from policing that professionals are humans with their own garbage and are therefore only listening to me prattle on for their wages! So when she went sick I absorbed the blame as it felt as if all my misgivings had been confirmed. I made her sick, she didn't want to listen to me at all, she did have her own baggage and it is purely a job and she didn't give two hoots. Steps2wellbeing never re-contacted me to book me in with somebody else, or for that matter to apologise for dropping me out of their loop and I never re-contacted them.

So bearing in mind my current 'trigger' with telephones that I have covered before I have emailed them. phones make me sweat, hyper ventilate, panic and generally feel very unwell. Let us wait and see what comes of my email. But the email itself was an achievement trust me it's taken me a week since seeing the GP to get around to actually writing it!! But apparently according to my GP to even stand a chance at being considered for a PTSD diagnosis I have to see a psychologist via them?

On a more positive note I have had some great feedback from you all about these ramblings and whilst I feel I have something worthwhile to throw into the mental health mix I'll keep on writing. Feel free to follow me on twitter @BeachHutBabe24 if not already and if you're feeling really generous perhaps you could spend 99p on my book, read it and give me an honest review!!

Meeting the Black Dog

If ever there were a contrast then the last three days have shown me one. I've felt the blackest of the black stages of depression through to the light contented feeling that I currently have. So precious is the feeling that I am currently experiencing, that I have switched off the television for fear of seeing something that may taint my mood! I am not going to touch my emails or answer the phone until the school run forces me back to reality. For the here and now I am going to enjoy a buoyant mood.

It is much like walking a tight rope, I am confident and strong. Perfectly balanced, however it wouldn't take much to make me wobble and fall, so with that in mind I wanted to write whilst I feel positive and hopeful.

I think the cop in me is constantly looking for a solution to problems. Instead of comforting my daughter I'm always giving her strategies to solve the issue when all she may really want is a cuddle. Cops solve peoples problems and we expect to use the same tools on our families and emotions. We find it frustrating if not down right confusing when the same strategies fail.

I cannot help but think I can 'solve' depression which is essentially tosh as it is an illness much like diabetes or cancer. You can't snap out of those any more than you can depression.

So as a result of my 'problem solving' approach I find myself reflecting what it was that I wanted or needed from the police over the last two years since my diagnosed and disclosed depression that I didn't have?

Now support comes in various guises doesn't it? When you ask someone you know after they've been ill, "How are you?" what are you really expecting to hear? I am positive our British culture means we should accept the "How are you?" solely as someone being polite and showing an interest in you. They do not actually want to know the ins and outs of your illness. What they expect back is a 'Fine thank-you" before you move on to the weather or sport or soap operas. Our coded British conversations devoid of emotional connections other than on a superficial level. Try it out and I bet you when someone starts to actually tell you how they are, you'll switch off, raise your internal eye brows and then cut them short. We are a nation of stunted emotions!

Now that does not bode well for the person suffering with depression and anxiety because emotions are front and centre of every darned day whether you want them to be or not. Some days are good and some are bad, some days you want to cry, some days you want to lark around and have fun but ignoring these emotions and maintaining a stiff British upper lip will not wash.

• Talking therapy when you can actually discuss 'emotions' would have helped.
• Talking to like minded people would have helped.
• A buddy up scheme, would have helped.
• An hour of weekly counselling in job time, at job expense would have helped.
• Someone drawing up a coping strategy, identifying triggers, would have helped.

Instead the stigma prevents these things happening. The coded canteen culture when discussing people being off sick with stress is inevitably followed up with some form of skiver comment and there is a sad inevitably to that in my experience. I've done it, haven't you?

Yes there are people that may swing the lead however you never ever know what someone is going through. Depression is not a rash. It isn't worn as a badge so if you consider changing one thing, never automatically assume someone who is off sick with stress is a skiver. You cannot tell if someone suffers with depression unless you ask or they share. Often the nosiest, funniest people can be suffering the most. Robin Williams was a prime example of that.

I would have liked to have become part of a buddy scheme. A group of people, well police officers and police staff who suffer with mental health illnesses who could perhaps initially meet each other through an online/force chat room scenario. I personally wouldn't be able to meet someone face to face or go to a group session straight off the bat but if I built up trust through anonymous chat eventually followed at your own pace by a meeting or group meetings in job time, that would have helped.

I also think each force needs it's own counsellor. On the books, paid for, that automatically sees officers that have dealt with certain types of incident or who those who work in certain departments plus all those of us who need psychological support. I'm pretty certain it would pay for itself fairly quickly by keeping officers mentally healthy and fit for duty. Using outside agencies for counselling services, numbering the amount of qualifying sessions you are entitled to even before you've got their or assessed, expecting you the depressive/anxious person to arrange/book these terrifying sessions when you A/ hate phones B/hate new environments C/avoid counselling at all costs are all barriers to success. Force counsellors are the way forward boss people out there.

As it was I had a back to work interview with my line manager followed up with a risk assessment?! He might as well of had a placard with,

"You're a nutter we're covering our arses"

on the wall behind him. The boss completing the risk assessment asked me about my 'triggers' a fair and pertinent question. However I made the mistake of being honest. Certain office idiots had been  fairly brutal with their belittling and put downs. Explaining this to the boss though as one of my triggers met with a derisive snort immediately followed by him concurring with them and putting me down himself! Of course I then clammed up  just nodding and saying yes or no where necessary.
Apparently the risk assessment was due to be reviewed regularly but it wasn't and I didn't push it as that initial session had become a 'trigger' in itself!! But that's not the point I did need support and I didn't get it.

I battled on in the same department for two years,  a negative, counter productive environment. I started talking about my 'madness' openly and loudly out of sheer bloody mindedness as acknowledging my struggles publicly helped me deal with my daily ups and downs.

Not long before I fell ill again just before this Christmas I had two separate conversations with my two line managers. they job share. Suffice it to say that both expressed amazement that I was still suffering with depression?!

"But that was two years ago"

one said! Their little faces quite the picture when I reminded them that I was medicated for my depression and anxiety and had been throughout the last two years. I didn't miss the shock and disappointment on their faces either.

So in the absence of a force counsellor talk to your staff and colleagues. Ask them about their triggers, especially people with anxiety.

As an example - I hate telephones, talking on them makes me hyper ventilate, my heart races. They are a necessary evil but just recognising I may need some time to work myself up to a telephone call in itself would be helpful.

My message to police managers, if you have staff that suffer with depression or anxiety, talk to them about it, discuss their triggers with them and maybe even help them to draw up a coping strategy for dealing with those triggers. It's far easier if someone acknowledges the black dog in the room.

My slippery depression slope

At the moment the only things keeping me moving forwards are my daughter, my dogs,  my writing/twitter, and a very small handful of trusted friends.

Yet even so I am barely moving at all, both from a physical perspective and a psychological one.

I have never ever felt this bad, so lethargic, so overwhelmed by something I cannot control. It feels like someone has hollowed out my brain and removed the majority of it. I am a husk, an empty shell floating around on the breeze totally aimlessly.

I cannot concentrate or focus enough to make food. I stand in the kitchen staring around me, lost, confused. I cannot be bothered to lift the pans out of the cupboard and I certainly do not have the brain capacity to think about how to cook something. In fact any activity that isn't utter simplicity itself is just too complex for my subdued brain. I manage takeaways, something & chip meals or prick and dings.

I know there are things that I should do, emails that need sending to work re sick leave dates, daughters club dates that need putting in the diary but try as I might there is insufficient willpower within me to lift my head of the sofa let alone manage a complex task like putting dates in a diary.

I have never struggled quite this badly, tears are always close by and desperation a constant companion. What are usually simple tasks like driving my daughter to a club or filling the car with petrol are becoming hugely testing and exhausting expeditions. Just trying to remember how to put petrol in the car or recalling what my daughter needs are for her clubs feels like an A level standard test.

This my friends is what depression is currently doing to a police officer with 27 years service, a Detective Sergeant who was competent and capable. Professional and proud. Who has worked fulltime, juggled a home life and parenting yet here I now am reduced to the capability of a child. I can't cook a meal, I can't concentrate, I can't even think about what to watch on the television whilst vegetating on the sofa. To whom washing has become an arduous and often ignored chore instead I sit in stale smelly clothes watching endless random television and wondering when or if someone will ever plug back in my brain.

This is probably complete nonsense to some of you. A fairy tale or nightmare. This is the reality of mental health. This happens. This swallows people up and spits them out, if they're lucky enough to escape or get a reprieve.

I feel suspended in time, unable to move forwards or backwards. Feeling numb and beginning to hope that I can actually cling on to the slippery slope that I now find myself on. I've never felt quite so out of control or helpless with my previous bouts of depression as I do this time. Perhaps you fall more heavily and harder the more often you fall of your perch?

I hear myself talking to my daughter but its almost like its in the third person, like I'm somehow remote from myself. I paint on a smile whilst feeling like a fraud and hoping she doesn't notice that her Mum's been swapped out for a fake version. Am I the fake or was she? The capable one?

And yet through it all I'm somehow hoping honesty will help. If I tell it how it is, if I describe my dirty little secrets then maybe people may just start to see mental illness in all it's degrading glory.

I'm out of wine, that's an issue too. I drink every evening. Varies in amount but sometimes a bottle, sometimes less but I have none left. I feel like I need some right now.

The weird thing is as I've said,  I feel numb, unconnected to the world. Remote and unplugged yet I want the wine to dull the way I feel, to self medicate as it were. Isn't that a"contradiction"?

So for now I'm planning that on Monday I will email work, do the diary entries and then email Steps to Wellbeing for an appointment. I can't ring them. Phone calls make me feel ill, very ill. Panicked even, and cry, yes definitely. Even at the best of times I hate telephoning people but at the moment its just not possible so the doctor said I could make an appointment to get assessed by email instead. 

So that's my plan, survive the weekend, get daughter back to school, come home walk dogs and then do these chores and maybe write some more blog ...

Self loathing and the FMO

Hello,

Today as I am writing this is Sunday and I have been away from work sick since 28/12 last year, nearly three weeks now.

Tomorrow I have to go and see the FMO or Occupational Health as some refer to it. I'm guessing this early referral is because I was actually honest this time and stated depression was the reason for my absence. The last time just over two years ago I wasn't referred to the FMO for several months but initially I did not know what was wrong. (Full story in earlier blogs x)

I'd like to think the referral this time is out of compassion, concern and a desire to offer me support yet I can't help thinking it's more about bottom covering and the edginess I've created by daring to use 'that' word. In the email from my boss advising me of the need to refer me to the FMO he referred
 'to that type of illness'
being the reason for referral?! Which one is that then boss, that illness we must not name?! In not being able to discuss it openly he reinforces my feeling that it is a sordid little secret that should remain covert. Do you know if I am certain of one thing this time it is that I will not be quiet about it anymore. I will not be silenced in discussing mental health, its time the stigma ended.

By the way I am happy the boss emailed as I find telephone conversations with him difficult and my paranoia and anxiety kicks in.  I end up hearing all sorts of things he may not actually be saying. I take insinuation and can read between the lines like no other person I have ever met. Even when I'm well I can sense people's emotions like a blood hound, I feel emotional waves coming off them like bad body odour especially if they are talking to me. Times the strength of that scent by infinity if they are talking to me about my sickness record. No it is far safer to see the words written down to have time to evaluate their meaning before I go off at the deep end for no reason whatsoever.

I do feel anger towards this boss, the job as a whole, the department I work in, in fact generally I'm just angry. Angry that I feel the way I do, angry that I can't fix myself, angry that it impacts on my daughter. I am an angry person

Anyways back on to the matter at hand, the FMO. I feel anxious about tomorrow. Anxious that I won't be able to convey just how broken I feel more than anything else. I've been covering my tracks denying my mental health problems for so long that it is a new experience trying to be honest about the state I'm in. I feel confusion at how to explain how muddled my head space feels, how to speak about the fact that I could sleep for a month and yet still feel tired, how I can't remember things at all from one minute to another and just how fragile I feel with life in general. Writing is my only method of communication, ask me to speak out loud and I just ramble, feel stupid and then clam up.

I am finding Twitter an enormous help at the moment for this very reason, I can write it down, I can interact with like minded people and I don't have to speak a word. Bliss.

So as I contemplate tomorrow I feel my head pounding, the start of an anxiety headache, the ones that feel as if your head is in a vice that gets tighter and tighter making you feel like your head will explode. My guts are churning and growling out loud and I want to sit and cry. My joints are swollen and my limbs feel heavy. In fact I feel like the wreck I know I am.

You know I look in the mirror or at photographs and hate what I see. I have a set phrase that rattles around my mind when I am looking at my own reflection, I say to myself over and over 'gee you sure is ugly'.

I feel self loathing and disgust to the point that nothing matters. I don't want to wash or put on clean clothes, I do so for my daughter but not for me.  Going out is consuming in a bad way, the thought of seeing real people or more importantly them seeing me gives me chills. I wish I could go out but be invisible then I would know for certain that I'm not being judged or hated. I think I dislike myself so much that I can't help but wonder why anyone else would tolerate me.
I think that is borne from the abandonment of my Mother who always said I was useless and wouldn't amount to much and then is confirmed time and again by a Father that talks the talk but never walks the walk.

It's probably why I rely so heavily on dogs for support. They don't judge, or hate. They're loyal to the bitter end even when you're ultimately taking them to their death. Pure unconditional love, and dogs are the only source I've ever found.

So there I am ready for tomorrows events! NOT!! Laters....

Police officer with Depression ... over here!!

As I was walking the dogs this morning I started pondering my mental health, as usual, and came to the conclusion it was high time to be more honest with myself.  Honesty about mental health within the British police service is in its infancy and I find myself on that front line with a responsibility to speak out.

My personal mental health struggles go around and around my head more often than most anything else. Things like, am I imagining it ? ... and I am really just a skiving bitch? or ...Why did this happen to me? and... Now I have accepted that I suffer with depression and anxiety why can't I beat it?

Things like, can all my physical symptoms solely be attributed to depression or are they real?
Well they are real because I feel them, they hurt, they ache but are they really just figments of a brain being ignored on a conscious level that is trying in its own way to bring me down of my perch?

The police service and us the police officers remain locked in an environment where mental health is something that happens to other people and not us.
When I joined the service in the late 80's people with mental health problems or 'nutters' as we were referred to, were definitely 'them' and not 'us'. They were the people we got called out to, people who caused problems, societies drop outs, trouble makers but definitely, one hundred percent, categorically not 'us'. They were the S136 calls, the concern for welfare incidents and the vulnerable mispers but they were not police officers.

So when mental health came knocking at my door after a harrowing few months running a sex offender unit, I denied it access, turned it away, refused it a home, slammed the door in it's face because when I looked in the mirror I saw a police officer, not a drop out or trouble maker. I refused to accept that I could have 'those' sorts of problems for I was none of the things I associated with a person suffering from mental health illnesses. So the first time 14 years ago when I fell off my perch I accepted my branding as a skiver, after all being thought of by colleagues as swinging the lead, although hugely damaging, was no where near as horrific as contemplating facing the truth. I climbed back up the ladder onto my perch and battled onwards for another 12 years.

I lived in a twilight zone of self hatred and loathing,  of spiralling debt and sabotaged relationships. But any hell was better than facing the stigma of being a 'nutter'

Yet coming to terms with my reality, my bias, my stereotypical point of view has been and continues to be blooming hard work and that's from me the sufferer. So, as to what hope the rest of the police service has in getting their heads around what mental health really looks like I really don't know.

It wasn't until a couple of days ago that I finally publicly tied my mental health firmly together with my police career. I was asked to contribute to a 'Police' magazine article on mental health within the police service. Which after careful consideration I have done, although I have now received coded warnings from colleagues of the dangers of my speaking out and 'do you know the trouble you may land yourself in for being so honest' ??! Just think about that for a minute... the federation will print an article on mental health which I have helped with, which I am very honest in, yet my colleagues are fearful that I will get in to bother for it? What does that say about the current state of play? It reminds me of the stereotypes I spoke of previously and proves to me that the service may utter relevant words and try and sound like they are on top of mental health within the police service but its not yet having much impact. So far its just words and hypocrisies...

I personally have had the 'nutter' badge proudly pinned to my lapel since the last time I fell of my perch about two years ago, yet publicly to other 'police' folk especially on social media etc. I have been reticent to 'show out', for them to know that I am one of 'them' , to let it all hang out so to speak.

But I came to a decision out walking those pooches today. Someone has to be honest, the words, the sentiments are all very well but unless 'us' the sufferers on the inside of the police service speak out where will we get? It feels wrong, it feels scary and sadly it feels like I am being a 'Judas' somehow but we need to see the wood for the trees don't we?

So with that in mind I am going to be very brave... speak a truth that I have never uttered, never told to a single soul.

I have contemplated suicide in the past. There, I said it. (no lightening bolts yet!)

I have always answered 'no' to that question on the doctor's forms,

Have you considered taking your own life? NO. I always put NO.

After all if I answered honestly then I would definitely become one of 'them' wouldn't I?

I am not sure I would have gone through with it but there was one particular weekend before I fell off my perch two years ago when I sat and planned how I could make my death look like a fatal road traffic accident. Even in death I was not prepared to be judged as a 'nutter'. I wanted the world to see my death as a tragedy so my daughter wouldn't have to live with the stigma of having had a mad mummy. Thankfully I haven't visited that dark place again where death feels like the only option available but I want to reach a place in time where I would at least feel able to speak the truth about my state of mind.

Sadly I am pretty certain that I will never be a mentally healthy person whilst I am working within the police service. The police service environment has a very long way to go before it is totally accepting and understanding of having the devil on the inside of the organisation and I hope to retire well before I think things will start to change. But in the meantime I will keep speaking and spreading my truth in the hope it may just help edge the change along more swiftly.  LAW24

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

FIRST STAGE UPP MEETING - Reg 15 Police Regs 2012

So Monday the 27th October came and went.


I got up feeling fairly accepting of what the day was going to bring, that was until I read a tweet from my dear friend and it brought home that it was actually a meeting with some quite a serious implications for me. She talked of being with me in spirit and that everything would be okay. Then I started crying and for a while I was quite tearful on and off. I maintained 'my front' around my daughter however and tried to appear nonchalant and looking as if I was at ease with the world. A skill I am becoming used to.


I walked my dogs up and over the hill at the back of the house and it felt weird thinking I was going to a meeting whereby they would be deciding whether or not to start a ball rolling that could eventually sack me and why? ....Because I've been signed off sick by a medical practitioner for five and a half months.
One would think the half pay looming would be motivation enough, but no the Winsor review brought in these new regulations and procedures. I pondered as I walked about the first I had heard of it and them and it was after I had been off work for a month and my boss who had not been in touch at all decided to come and visit me at home. It turned out that he actually wanted to complete paperwork with me in regards of the Unsatisfactory Performance Procedures at that early stage. He sat in my lounge filling out paperwork in regards of my 'unsatisfactory performance'. There was one question that asked him as a line manager how could the officer improve their attendance and performance?! At the time I was incensed by the question and the whole process as it suggested to me I was being unsatisfactory 'naughty' by being off sick.


Then he put that away and went through all thirteen of my case files asking me where I was at with each job and what I had done. Like a progress review. But let's remember I had been off work a month by now, had been in hospital and feeling horrific with crashing headaches, aching body, crippling fatigue and so on. The pressure I felt was immense and I had to read back through my own logs and progress comments to even recall what each job was and where I was at with it.


I spoke to my boss once more between this one month stage and the service of further paperwork relating to the unsatisfactory performance procedures at the five months stage.




I got home from the dog walk and jumped in a bath wanting to get myself washed and dressed with plenty of time to spare. The meeting was at 1400 hours, I had to drop my daughter to a friend around 1315 hours and meet the federation at 1330 hours so I didn't want to be late or rushing which would panic me more especially with 'mini me' in tow! Then came the 'what to wear' dilemma. Business, casual or a mixture? I didn't want to look to obliging or together but on the flip side not too dishevelled or  rebellious! I stood staring at a flowery blouse for ages trying to decide if it was so jolly and frivolous for such a serious occasion. I couldn't decide and went downstairs where my daughter said I looked 'weird' which helped immensely as you can imagine! By now my nerves are frazzled and jangling and my next dilemma was whether or not to straighten my hair or not!? Naturally curly unruly hair or straight business like bob?! I decided on frazzled like the inside of my head! I also decided the only make up I would wear would be mascara and a small amount of lippy. Again not wanting to appear too 'with it' or ready for work! Overthinking things or what?!


I kept checking the clock it was now 1130 hours.... the clocks having just gone back 'mini me' then announces 'I'm hungry' grrrr and I try and concentrate hard enough to muster the motivation to go and make her some lunch! Then the federation representative started texting me and I got distracted by that! I decide against my 'financial' better judgement to order a pizza as I just could focus enough to fix food. So an order was placed and I start to feel tight chested again....


Then the fed rep asks me if he can ring me.....urghhh...... last thing I need right now I was thinking BUT he's doing an awesome job and I owe him big style so he rings ......


       MEETING CANCELLED   MEETING CANCELLED   MEETING CANCELLED!!!!
                            STAND DOWN   STAND DOWN   STAND DOWN!!!


Turns out that during our text conversation I had told him that I would be returning to work on the 5/11 as I just cannot manage on half pay. He had then gone and fought my corner with my line manager and HR quoting police regulations at them and generally hassling them big style about whose interests it would be in to hold the meeting or to put me onto Stage 1. Initially he said they were not having any of it but eventually they agreed and cancelled the meeting.  Never underestimate having federation support and if you aren't a member and you are 'job' get yourself some membership right now. Incredible advice and support when you need it most and in the current shoot them first ask questions later times and with all the tactics being used you never know when you'll be next in the firing line and in need of their help.


So there I was all dressed with nowhere to go and my daughter was sulking as she had to stay with me and not go to the child care!!! CHARMED I'M SURE!


As it was we went to the park and she crushed her foot on a stepper which has left her on crutches!! That's karma for you!!


Now I'm counting down the days until I go back to work :-( a week today.
A phased return a bit at a time.
I'm already looking forward to my leave at Christmas and hoping I get that far without doing something drastic like resign!


The day after the meeting was cancelled a colleague contacted me to ask me how I wanted my 'long service medal' awarded?!!
Ceremony or privately?
Talk about two contrasting days!

Soul Searching

Do people generally spend time psychoanalysing themselves or am I just a complete freak? Since writing my last post I have had to do a lot of soul searching.


I was awaiting figures you may recall for the half pay scenario to show me how bad things would be if I was still off work sick and the half pay kicked in as of 17/11. Well I'm not too good at maths but the general picture painted to me is that going onto half pay is a no no. Especially if your trouble is stress, anxiety and depression because there are so many variables, and variables' mean uncertainty and uncertainty means stress.  There's the unpredictability of an ESA claim from the DWP and whether or not you would be awarded the £72 a week for 13 weeks and there's also an immense chapter and verse type 52 page form, detailing your bust size to how many times a week you fart, to fill out in order to be assessed for it. There's also a claim to be made and paperwork to be completed for the police federation group insurance which would I'm told make up 25% of your gross salary. There's also the the fact you'd be even further removed from the work place and dealing with the stress of ever climbing back on the work train. In fact it was made perfectly clear to me that this was not a viable option and therefore the only way forwards is back to work.


The next hurdle is whether or not the force will still decide tomorrow to put me on stage one of the unsatisfactory performance procedures, and then to work out how/where and for how long I go back to work in the first instance. I've been told to consider what are my stress factors, to identify them so they can be considered and possibly circumnavigated.


Well people in general trigger my stress so let's clear them out the way first off!!... yes all of them!


In all seriousness every time I sit and consider this question seriously I start to panic and move away from the thoughts so I can calm down. I'm already feeling panicked and tight chested just thinking about going up to headquarters for this meeting tomorrow. I've been told not to speak during the meeting and let the fed rep do it all!! I hope I don't have a Tourette's style outburst! Sticking tape may be called for!


It's been suggested I work away from my normal station to start with...but I think that's counterproductive. But the advice is confused because in one breath it's you have to face coming back sometime but in the next breath it's work somewhere else. How is that facing things? It just postpones the inevitable and leaves me anxious about what's being said about me working elsewhere by my normal work colleagues' . Plus I'd have to explain to whomever I ended up working with why I'm there for a small amount of time. No back to normal it has to be and let's hope the elastic band in my head doesn't snap! So it's half term this week and my sick note expires on the 2/11. So I'll go back to my GP 3/11, get signed back with a prescriptive detailed 'fit' note and bite the bullet and go back to my normal office and face the music.


Easy to write, not so easy to do! What do I wear tomorrow? Business clothes? But then I'll look 'too' together. Make Up? Or go looking gaunt and manic! Or dirty jeans so I look as unkempt on the outside as I feel on the inside?! God knows...?  I can't even plan that in my head without feeling queasy and why is that? Let's face it all I have to do is drive there, sit in a meeting saying nothing and leave again! I guess it's being judged, being pitied, or maybe being despised and yes definitely being talked about when I'm not there. Just being a focal point isn't comfortable is it?


Something else that troubles me is just finding the motivation and energy to go back to work. Getting out of bed to walk dogs, to get my daughter ready for school. Getting her to school. Getting to work on time. Running around at work, running home. Collecting her from childcare. Making tea and feeding her. Doing her reading etc. walking the dogs again. My working days are endless and full of chores. Yet at the moment just finding the energy or the inclination to switch on the telly, or pick socks off the floor is challenging and difficult. How the hell am I going to get all that done again every day? I sit and stare in to space and time just ebbs by like water in a river.


I feel so lost. I feel so crumpled and inept. I feel like the piece of paper that's been screwed up as it's unwanted and useless. I feel like the bit that's been thrown at the bin yet missed the receptacle and landed lonely and spent on the floor somewhere nearby. The piece of paper that was almost useful once but then was abandoned and left in a crumpled heap on the floor.


I'll let you know how tomorrow goes!

Half Pay Dilemmas

So today is the 23rd October 2014....I will be on half pay from my part time role as a police sergeant as of the 17th November 2014 and quite possibly bankrupt shortly thereafter!!


Golly I have to joke a bit because just when I thought I was making some headway (no pun intended) the ground goes and shifts from under my feet again. I feel like f I didn't try and lighten my darkness a little I might just end up hiding under the duvet for the foreseeable future. I do feel like I'm on the edge of a cliff hanging on to my normality but only just and I really do feel only a very short distance away from disaster. My head space is so fragile and splintered.


I must look calm and normal though as nobody seems to know or guess. In fact people keep saying 'you look so well' and I just keep wishing that I felt just a fraction of that wellness in reality.


Do these things feelings happen to other people or just depression sufferers? It seems to me that I keep picking myself up off the floor like a proverbial skittle that's been knocked over and just as I regain my balance and think 'yes I can stand firm and not wobble' another blooming bowling ball hits me and BANG there I go again!


Yesterday I arranged a meeting with my police federation rep (union rep) to discuss the fact that as of the 2012 update to police regulations the force now view my long term absence through ill health purely through business eyes and ask themselves 'is she providing us value for money?' The answer clearly is no I am not in the eyes of HR. They then can consider implementing unsatisfactory performance procedures. Apparently there are three stages to this process and the ultimate sanction after stage three could be the force dispensing with my services. I am currently being considered for placement on stage 1. I have to attend a meeting with my line manager, a representative from HR and my federation rep next Monday the 27th October 2014 when the decision whether or not to place me on stage 1 will be decided.


So yesterday we were discussing this process and also the notice that I have had from my deputy chief constable placing me on half pay as of the 17th November 2014.


The fed rep is a genuinely nice guy with huge empathy and communication skills. He has come highly recommended as someone that will fight my corner tooth and nail and also someone that knows his stuff inside and out. I have been told to trust him implicitly and follow his lead. Looking at the federation in isolation for a minute the reps don't get a lot extra if anything for putting themselves out an amazing amount for others. They look after multiple officers who are generally going through utterly life changing crap situations. This is a huge commitment on top of their day jobs, often as front line officers and I for one am very thankful.   He said to me yesterday if you want to speak to me at three in the morning just text me and I think he genuinely meant it too.


So it took me somewhat aback when he said to me out of the blue yesterday 'I want you to go back to work' I was shocked to be honest but when he rationalised to me why he thought it was for the best I could see it made perfect sense. Sitting there in that room at headquarters it did seem to make perfect sense. He said he thought it would be best if I worked reduced hours a couple of times a week and at a different location to where I normally worked. Again perfectly logical. He asked me what I thought... I knew the idea of going onto half pay was terrifying me and the not knowing if I'd be able to pay the bills was an immense weight around my neck so it felt the only rational way forwards was to agree and I did agree if with a fairly large dose of trepidation running through my veins. But as I've said I've been told he's the best and to trust in him.


So I left and started the drive home. Well dear goodness I wasn't expecting the panic attack that ensued or the tears. I wasn't shocked that my head felt like it was going to explode as the splitting pain in my head has been a constant since May. But I was utterly surprised by the violent physical reaction to the thought of returning to work and to say it was overwhelming and hugely scary is an understatement. My chest tightened and my breathing became laboured, my eye sight blurred and I felt really dizzy. My joints all started aching very painfully and my right hand went numb again. I felt physically sick like I had eaten a chunk of food far too big to swallow and it was stuck at the base of my throat.


I had to go and pick my daughter and her friend up from school and it was all I could do to function and communicate with them but carry on I did.


Later after my daughters friend had gone home and I'd done the swimming lesson shuttles to and from the pool I had a text from my best friend asking me how things had gone with the fed rep. I replied that I'd been shocked that he had asked me to return to work, told her that I had agreed at the time but that I had since gone in to meltdown and been very tearful.


This whole reaction and chain of events is very worrying and has left me with the obvious question... 'if this is how the mere suggestion has rendered me, how will the actuality play out?'


I will draw an analogy here....an Olympic athlete breaks his leg just before the main race. His coach says never mind you can still compete. Yes he could but he'd fall flat on his face, he certainly wouldn't win and he'd feel pretty humiliated wouldn't he? That's how I think going back to work is likely to play out for me. I'll fall on my face (not literally although I'd never rule it out completely) , make a prat of myself (some would say inevitable) and I wouldn't win the day and be a healthy rounded person.

BUT and it's a blooming BIG BUT

I am a single parent with bills and commitments how can I not go back to work? So now I've started thinking perhaps I could ask the GP for some form of drug that would quell the panic attacks? A sedation type pill that would just get me through? Or once I got there would I actually cope okay and it's just the fear of it provoking the panic? But we must also remember that I'm only two weeks in to anti-depressant pills and they make take longer to have a positive affect mightn't they?


So when I woke up this morning I decided I needed to know the figures. Exactly what was the difference from where I'm at now to where I'd be on half pay?


Because the half pay would get topped up with a federation group insurance payment plus I'd be able to claim ESA from the DWP apparently. So I've asked for the figures to be worked out if at all possible because just scaremongering and telling me I'd be worse off isn't helpful. Plus I've asked if I can suspend my pension contributions temporarily or whether that's a one off decision. In or out so to speak. Once I can see this amount versus the other amount I'm hoping I'll know better whether it's a necessary evil just to survive.


So as of now I await those figures. Then I'll go and see my GP .... and then I have a pretty vast decision to make.....


make or break literally!


I'll let you know x