Is leaving the police service for another job a viable option?

The question was raised today whether leaving the police service for another job was a viable option?

When I joined the service in the late 80's it was recognised as a career for life,  you joined for the 30 year stretch. You made a life long commitment and I for one felt proud and compelled to make it. I never for one minute doubted my choice despite being thrust into a turbulent unknown world from my humble middle class background. I was naïve in the ways of the world and I embarked on a learning curve enviable by some of the worlds biggest roller coasters.

I wore a skirt, a white stiff collared shirt, a tie, a tunic and the stipulated Marks & Spencer's barely black tights! I was issued with a black long mac, a black anorak, a thin black V neck jumper to wear under my tunic if it were to get cold. Then there was the obligatory ladies hand bag, a pair of metal hand cuffs, their leather pouch, oh yes and a black belt! Plus epaulettes, chrome numbers and the pins to secure them.

I wonder what I would have made back then of what the service has become in the last 28 years?

When I joined the 'old sweats' were still bleating on about that damned new legislation called PACE and lamenting for their familiar judges rules!

My very first piece of PPE other than the cuffs came about 18 months into my service when I got issued with a mini wooden baton, (half the size of the men's)  In time I then watched the long 'Arnold' baton come and go before the issue of extendable batons called ASPs. I've watched utility belts arrive only to be replaced by 'tac' vests. I saw the introduction of rigid cuffs to the exclusion of the old chain versions. I've watched stab proof vests be introduced as a station resource, before then becoming personal issue. There were NATO jumpers that appeared as tunics became relegated to stalwarts of the court room before ultimately being ditched altogether in some places.  CS gas arrived and was then replaced by pepper spray. From no computers at all,  to the basic ones with a dot matrix printer, to the high tech internet beasts of today.

There were canteens with friendly staff looking after officers and police bars a plenty. Heading to the bar to let of steam after a late shift was common practice. There were meals and teas/coffees provided when on courses, all these little extra financial compensations have all evaporated.

I started with a basic Motorola UHF pack set radio, with VHF sets in the cars.

I recall being the first on the shift to have a mobile phone and being laughed at that they wouldn't catch on!

Then came trousers for us women, they were those itchy woollen goddamn awful things but they were trousers. Now of course the military like combat trouser is king.

So many, many changes over the years. But the biggest change of all?

The loss of morale and the loss of feeling like you were part of a large family that got through the shite together, on or off duty. There was a feeling back then that the bosses had our backs, generally speaking politics had no place in policing and that the job was about locking up the bad guys. 

Back in those dark ages the public respected their police service and the media didn't seem to jump so quickly and avidly to stamp their disapproval upon us at every turn. We felt valued and that made the most enormous difference.

The police service of 2017 is depleted, under resourced and vilified by the press. Politics is at the forefront of policing and catching the bad guys has to be done to fit a political agenda!  God forbid we upset a crook!

What is to become of this changed police service?

Officers are leaving in droves to find work elsewhere regardless of the pay drops they are taking. What price peace of mind they must be thinking. If you can see your family more than one weekend a month, escape the horrific pressures, the dangers and regain your mental health why not? Life is for the living surely? Officers are expected to work so many unsocial shifts, so many cancelled rest days, lose their hard earned leave and for what?... a wage that is in real terms falling? Why would anyone want to work in that sort of environment?

Career chasers' can be heard talking the leavers down, uttering abusive insults about flipping burgers and the like but I can't help but feel they've used these hard working officers backs to climb up to the lofty heights of their high horses, grinding them down and breaking their spirits in the process. We need more than lip service, we need more than someone saying they're supportive of their troops. We need evidence of that support. There is no use talking the talk without walking the walk otherwise it only serves to be an exercise in ticking the boxes of their ridiculous policy books.

Perhaps the governments ultimate aim is to drive us all out before they employ a private company like G4S?

I'm sad, I grieve for what was. I don't feel I have any place in the shambles the service is becoming. It's broken me, it's taken away my spirit and like any bully it just laughs at me for it and denies all responsibility. I'm not alone, there will be many more like myself that are broken irreparably by their service to our country. The pressure, the dangers, the thankless task it has become.

So, the question raised today was whether leaving the police service for another job was a viable option? I'd have to say that's a big fat yes wouldn't you?

Finding your own support for #MH

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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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

Open Letter to Police Supervisors - Mental Health

Dear Sir / Ma'am,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Let's see some real change please?

Yours Sincerely

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

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!!