I feel like I’ve lost 9 months of my life. When I look back I can see snippets but I really have no idea where all that time has gone. However in those 9 months my life has changed immeasurably and forever.
I now face the prospect of rebuilding my life and fitting in all the extra stuff that mental illness and the pursuit of good mental health requires. I don’t really know where to start.
I know from previous experience that my usual rush to ‘get back to normal’ doesn’t help so I’m mindful to avoid it but then I’m left with “what do I do?”
Advice from others is always the same- take it easy, don’t rush, find new activities to fill my time. The problem is I don’t want new activities; I want to be able to do the old ones. I suppose to be fair I haven’t tried many new activities though I did have one foisted upon my by the occupational therapist at the hospital.
Occupational therapy is hard to define; even the occupational therapists themselves seem to struggle to define their purpose. I initially thought the aim was to prepare me in some way for the world of work again, I envisaged reading newspapers, maybe writing the odd newsletter or press release- but no, I was to make a greetings card.
I am not entirely against expressing myself artistically, indeed I drew and painted feverishly during my manic episodes, but cutting out stuff and sticking it to a card was not something I ever wanted to do so being made to do it for an hour whilst two strangers heaped false praise on my pitiful effort was cringingly awful.
I was asked what I thought of the finished item so I replied honestly, as I do, “I think it’s shit” (because it was). The ‘art’ session did nothing for my self-esteem though I did gain a hilariously tacky gift for a much-loved friend- in it I wrote “they forced me to make this, lots of love, Zoë xxx”
Not being ones to give up easily, much like the stalkers of the psychiatric ward, OT have also offered me the chance to do some cooking, who they think caters for the dietary needs of my children is beyond me, indeed one of the upsides of being in hospital is that there is no cooking.
If OT really wanted to help they could’ve made sure my sick note for work was up to date, helped fill in my council tax benefit form, sourced school uniforms online, ensured I saw the doctor when he was on the ward, even just made me a cup of tea and stopped for a chat.
However in an environment where any kind of therapy is a rarity perhaps the OT department should be congratulated, at least they try, even if it is a little misguided.
I have also started CBT- cognitive behavioural therapy; you can Google it for a number of explanations. As far as I can tell CBT is aimed at changing the way I think but without addressing why I think that way in the first place. I’ve had 2 sessions and so far all I can see is that I react in the wrong way to almost every situation! I clearly have a lot of work to do.
The good news is that this work will be done “on the outside” as I hope to be discharged from the hospital on Tuesday. I finally feel well enough to go home for good and this time I hope it is for good.