How Others See Me

I’m still stable, still enjoying the ups and downs of everyday life with only the odd wobble toward emotional extremes.


One such extreme came after my bold attempts to deal with something I had hoped to put off forever- claiming ESA. I can’t elaborate much on this story except to say- the Job Centre were useless, I’m still not sure what ESA is, whether I want it and how I get it. I called the telephone number the Job Centre had given me, got halfway through the recorded message (please have details of your mortgage, pay, blood group, parents occupations etc) and had to take Lorazepam.

Suffice to say, I’ll let that one lie for a bit.

I’ve been advised to go to the CAB, and I will, but not today.

I started taking my new anti-psychotic last week. It’s working in that I am not psychotic but physically I feel awful. As I’ve said before I don’t “do” illness so it was with great reluctance, tinged with fear that I was on the verge of lithium toxicity, that last night I contacted NHS24 (Scottish equivalent of NHS Direct).

My symptoms were purely physical- nausea, severe whole body tremor, headache, dizziness and blurred vision. I went through my symptoms several times, the nurse checked my records then she started talking to me in a tone of voice which would normally be saved for someone perched on a bridge. I was asked what kind of day I’d had (“rubbish, I’m not feeling well”), was I feeling anxious? Was there anything troubling me? Other than the slight fear that if it was lithium toxicity I could be in a coma by the time she’d stopped patronising me- no!

I was left with the instruction to see my own GP tomorrow, “to talk it all through with him”. Now firstly, my wonderful GP is a woman and secondly, I don’t need to talk, I need my bloods done.

So this is the stigma they’re all going on about! I don’t know (and don’t want to know) what my medical records say, but in isolation they clearly paint a picture of someone much less capable and together than me. I know I haven’t been capable and together for very long but long enough to know the difference between nausea and “nerves”. It’s bad enough that everyone one asks “how are you?” or the classic yet nonsensical “how are you, in yourself?” but to discover that any health query I have from now on will immediately be attributed to my mental health is infuriating.

For the record, I didn’t slip into a coma during the night and I still feel rubbish, I’m seeing the wonderful GP tomorrow to get some proper medical advice.

Hi-Ho-Oh-No

So I’m still depressed, I had 3 wonderful days of hypomanic respite last week but I’m back down to earth now. I’ve adopted a new positive mental attitude which basically means forcing myself to do things everyday that I don’t want to do- get up, get dressed, go out etc.

Tomorrow I’m having a much needed haircut then…….*drum roll*…….I’m going into the office for a coffee with a colleague. My heart rate increases just thinking about it- which I suppose should demonstrate it’s nothing special as my local Morrisons has the same effect, anyway, I’m going to do it.


Now that the children are back at school and I have a lot of time on my (shaky) hands my thoughts have turned to work.

I loved my job, for all the ups and downs it brought I was always happy to be there and to be part of the small select team working towards a shared goal. My job gave me purpose and identity, not to mention lots of good fun and a fairly reasonable remuneration. My job was a huge chunk of who I am or was.

I haven’t worked now for well over six months and in that time my job has been someone else’s job. I think I’ve come to terms with not being indispensable but I am plagued with worry that my time off has proved me entirely dispensable.

I often put myself in the shoes of my employer and ask would I want myself back? Would I employ someone who has been off for so long sick? I guess I wouldn’t make a very good employer as my answers are always “no”. I’m lucky, I have a good employer and I know my job will be there when I’m ready but that doesn’t make it any easier to go back.

I don’t know where I’m going to fit back in at work, from the silly things like someone else is using my desk to the serious things- I’ve no idea what’s happened over the last 6 months or so, I don’t feel I have the skills to do my job anymore now that the lithium has somewhat stunted my previously ample creativity and productivity.

I’ve been tempted to take the path of least resistance and resign, not because I want to but because it would be easier than going back. Nobody can tell me when to go back to work, my team of healthcare professionals have been quite good at telling me when not to attempt it but the decision must be mine to make when I am ready. The problem is I don’t think I will ever be ready, I think I’m just going to have to suck it and see and hope, for the sake of my shattered confidence, that I get it right.

Get Up And Go Has Got Up And Gone

It’s been a real struggle to write this piece which has lead to much anguish on my part that I may have been medicated boring. I’m grateful for stability but live in fear that the way I lived my life before and the things I did were more down to my illness than my personality.


I find myself these days frustrated at having nothing to do but with no energy or imagination to do anything anyway. I still wouldn’t say I’m bored, being bored suggests one has the desire to look for things to do.

I have no imagination and no creativity and I miss them both.