9-5

So its almost a year since I officially left work, although I haven't worked since December 2011. That sounds like ages ago and yet it doesn't feel like long at all in some ways.

I have few regrets about leaving. In hindsight, it was the best thing I could ever have done to salvage my mental health. Maybe I shouldn't even have gone into that line of work in the first place.

I loved my job. I really did. I loved the variety of experiences, the amazing people I got to meet, the great colleagues I had to work with and most of all I loved that I got to do what I do best - help people - and yet in the end all of that was outweighed by the terrible stress it caused me that more than once sent my dodgy brain into meltdown. It just wasn't going to work any more. It was time to call it to an end.

And here I am now, looking for a way to join in again. I want a job. I want to be useful. I want to be a valuable member of society. I want to be respected for my work not given a disinterested 'oh' when I'm introduced as 'not working at the moment'.

I have my volunteer work which helps me to feel like my existence isn't entirely pointless and I'm very proud to be associated with such a brilliant organisation as Bristol Changes. I am honoured that they allowed me to train with them and grateful for the opportunity to bring my skills to the community.

One of the best things about volunteering is not being paid. I know that sounds like a strange thing to say but I feel that much more free. That's not to say I am any less committed to my weekly meeting than I was to my my daily job or that I would behave any less professionally, but that I am happy to know I am doing it because I want to, not because of a contract to exchange my services for cash. There's no guilt attached to it, no expectation that I should work my body and mind to exhaustion until and beyond the last minute of the working day because I am being paid out of the public purse.
When I was a paid worker I began to resent the unpaid overtime that I did. Now that I am not paid, I am happy to give my time for free.

I don't really know what to do next. Ideally, I think I would like to train as a counsellor, something I have always felt was right for me, but I fear that once again I could become overwhelmed by the pressure to always squeeze in 'just one more' or get crushed by empathy overload.

I'd like to write more but my creative edge has been dulled by my medication and I feel daunted by it rather than inspired right now. This saddens me.

So do I try to find a McJob? Am I even employable any more? Who would want to take on a middle-aged woman with known mental health issues? Sadly, I think that's all they'll see, despite me having held a job for over 20 years.

Anybody got any great careers advice?

Off the Wall

It's amazing how something that looks and feels like self confidence is actually just a brittle shell that I wear around me. It's so convincing that I even believe it myself. That is, until a small crack appears.

Like Humpty Dumpty, I appear to have been rather rash in my choice of seat and I am having to make with the superglue. I could probably do without all the King's horses and all the King's men looking on with concerned expressions though.

I'm not about to let one little crack lead straight to scrambled egg. I can mend it and then get right back on that wall and balance on it like an Olympic gymnast.

Over confidence led to the crack appearing and now I'm repaying from the other side of the equation. It hurts.

Young guns (go for it)

I went to bed on Thursday night feeling as though I was about to become Properly Middle Aged and I woke up yesterday morning to be presented with shoes from The Old Man which would be just as suitable for my teenage daughter.

 

Not a bad start. And they match my hair.

 

 

In the morning I started training with Changes Bristol . I'm going to help as a facilitator for group meetings for people helping themselves to good mental health. The first session was very positive; most people seemed very enthusiastic and good hearted. I was impressed by how many people were willing to offer their time and energy to the project. I wonder how many of us will see it through?



I spent the evening in the company of my lovely friends, one of whom even endured the horror of Raw Fish to join us. Whilst I was waiting for them outside Yo! one of the Cabot Circus security guards came up and started talking to me in a very friendly way. I'm still not sure if he thought I was suicidal as I was leaning over the barrier, texting my friends, after I'd seen the size of the queue. I think I did look somewhat despairing! I prefer to think he was sent by the fish gods to give me hope.

 

My friends arrived, the fish gods smiled on us once more and the enormous queue vanished. We found ourselves at the front. A booth was about to become free and we claimed it. Thank you, fish gods!

 

I got a text from my Littley as I was enjoying my sushi: 'Night night mummy. Happy birthday. PS can we have cake tomorrow?' She makes me laugh every day.

 

The restaurant was overfull and it showed but sometimes we have the most fun when we have something to moan about. I had a great night and afterwards I went home, loving the whole world after two glasses of prosecco, and feeling rejuvenated by the day.

 

Maybe this is the recipe to staying young: keeping my brain active, helping others, good company, lots of love from my family and the odd glass of fizzy wine. *   **

 

 

 

* maybe some expensive moisturiser might be involved too

 

**results are unlikely to be as effective as drastic surgery





Say hello, wave goodbye

 



Hello 2013!

This is not going to be my New Year's resolution blog. I don't do resolutions.

This is the story of my new life.


2012 was a bit of an eventful year. It served as a trial by fire, through which I have passed to emerge, slightly singed, to begin again.

In April I said goodbye to my job of 21 years (24 if you count my training as well) and hello to a new diagnosis of Bipolar in the same week. Ouch. Let's just say that the time since then has needed a lot of adjustment.

It doesn't just affect me. My whole family has had to stop and take stock of what's really important, to learn to see me in a new light and yet simultaneously realise that I am the same person as I ever was.

Releasing myself from the prison of my job was the most difficult decision and yet it was quite straightforward when looked at logically. It was causing me huge stress and making me more unwell. I still had a big emotional response to the loss of my identity and my independence,  feeling that I was somehow diminished by the lack of purpose and wage earning capacity and belittled in the eyes of my colleagues who I had abandoned.

But enough of the past. I promised you the story of my new life.

I'm ready to start again now.

I'm on some good drugs which help keep me on a reasonably even keel and some better ones for emergencies when they don't.

I have a doctor who now takes me seriously and supportive family and friends.

Best of all, I have my self-belief starting to return.

I'm a few days off being 45. I still have 20 good years of work in me at least and I'm ready to kick ass at my next job. I don't know what it's going to be yet but that's all part of the adventure, isn't it?


It's time to let go of the past and start living again as the new me.