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.

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.

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!