More than ten years ago, I graduated from University and landed a job in the Financial Division of the NHS. It wasn’t what I’d envisaged myself doing, but there was potential were I willing to be patient and (most importantly) I was earning decent money.
Despite (probably) always having deep-rooted Mental Health problems, for several years thereafter, I got up in the mornings, put in a hard days work and came home. If you follow this blog at all, you’ll know that I ran out of steam eventually. I couldn’t keep running, my demons caught up with me and I went home sick on 1st September 2011. I’ve never worked since.
I guess what I’m trying to say, is that I used to be able to cope with ‘life’. Granted, it was rarely easy and the perseverance that I gallantly displayed most likely contributed to my downfall. But I managed.
Let us fast forward now. Right now, in this moment, I’m tired…no…I’m exhausted. What have I done today? Filled out a form, visited my GP and walked the dog to the post box and back. A far cry from ten years ago.
Currently, every day is a battle. I try and try and try. I do odd bits of housework. I’m working towards an OU degree (for my own satisfaction, and to keep my brain working, in one sense of the word at least!). I read books. I keep appointments with Professionals who are fully invested in helping me. I visit people I feel comfortable with. But, my God, its hard. Beneath the surface, the tiniest thing can push me over the edge. I get tearful at the drop of a hat, I suffer from paranoia, I’m plagued by intrusive, disturbing thoughts…not a million miles from Psychosis. I barely eat, I fidget, chew my nails to the quick.
I’ll get to the point…how did I get from there to here? Don’t worry, it’s a rhetorical question.