I don’t fit into the system

I’m back at work and to be honest returning wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be. I’m on reduced hours for a couple of weeks which is making things easier and I’m lucky enough to work with a very supportive team. Which also makes things easier.

Hiding my mental health issues isn’t something I have to worry about. And I’m very aware of how lucky I am with that. Others aren’t so lucky and face discrimination from their colleagues and management. My manager may have difficulties in ‘getting’ mental health issues but he’s supportive and willing to make any changes as they are needed.

But I do face discrimination and stigma in accessing support within the local mental health team.

I trundled up to an appointment with my psychiatrist today and we ended up agreeing that I don’t really fit in anywhere.

I’m not unwell enough to need full on support from the Community Mental Health Team with a need for a Community Psychiatric Nurse, with Care Plan Approaches and the like.

But the local low to moderate team won’t take me on board simply because of my diagnosis.

They have a blanket no Borderline Personality Disorder policy.

We’re too difficult.

We’re too manipulative.

We’re too unstable.

We never get better and learn to manage our symptoms.

We’re just not worth the hassle.

But that’s not true.

In both my personal and (ex) professional opinion.

Many moons ago I was told I was high functioning BPD. That yes I had difficulties but that I had learnt enough skills and managed at a level where holding down a job wasn’t an issue, that parenting, partners and relationships were all stable, that self-harming behaviours were none to minimal. And that’s still the case.

So I’m at a bit of a loss as to why I am restricted from accessing services that could help me get over this blip.

I struggle to think of other health areas where people with a specific diagnosis are told they are too hard to treat so they just can’t come in. But I suspect that a discrimination rant is a post for another day.

The question is where does it leave me now.

Medication. Which is absolutely fine and a very good safety net for me at the moment.

A supportive psychiatrist.

An ok-ish GP (I’ve certainly had a hell of a lot worse).

Two of the best friends a girl could ask for and who I can tell anything to.

A supportive husband.

Family who don’t judge me.

Colleagues who are prepared to cut me some slack when I need it.

A whole range of coping techniques learnt over the years.

And a stubborn determination to ride the wave and settle down in calmer waters soon.

I’d like to think that was enough for now.

Stepping back and fear of stepping back in

I’ve taken this week off sick from work.

It’s the first time in a very long time that my mental health has affected my work but needs must. I have Borderline Personality Disorder, with other diagnoses thrown in for good measure over the years. But, as much as I resisted at first, I’ve come to accept that BPD is the right one.

I had been stable for over 10 years. Med free and using coping techniques when necessary. That changed last summer when life stresses got too much and I had to go back on medication. Since last January it’s been 18 months of pure stress and it’s finally brought me to this point.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good thing in many ways. I recognised the need to take time off. I acted on it sensibly, speaking to my manager and actively telling him the need for some time out rather than calling in sick with some mysterious virus. I’ve tried to use the time productively; relaxing and making steps to sort out external stressors.

At the back of mind it niggles that this is the step onto the slippery path of not being able to work. I panic that my new role is too much, that I’m not as effective as I could be and that I shouldn’t have accepted a promotion. I worry that my mental health is going to spiral and one week off sick will turn into a month or more. I don’t miss work. I like being at home where it’s safe and pressure is limited.

But I also know that working is good for me. I enjoy the interaction. I know when I’m well being unchallenged is not the best option for me. I know that if neither Alex or I were working it would have a negative impact, and not just financially. It does me good to interact with a wider range of people, to have responsibility and things to focus on. I take pride in my work and being part of a team.

Work had become a scary place though. I was scared of making a mistake, had begun losing track of my projects, worried about making phone calls. I was also aware that I was spending so much energy just trying to appear normal between 9 and 5 that by the time I got home I had nothing else left in me. All I could do was crawl into my pj’s and slump on the sofa until it was time for a very early bedtime.

I had no energy to tackle the other things that needed doing – catching up on the washing, tackling our debts, filling in forms to get help with finances. It was all running away from me and I was left sleeping my time away because I couldn’t face anything else. Ostrich style was the name of the game.

It’s now Wednesday and although the panic and anxiety is still there I have been able to rest. I have been able to do chores around the house (not that Alex doesn’t help but he is limited with what he can do at the moment) and I’ve even tackled the scary form and filled in most of it.

It’s not that I dread going back next week, I don’t. But at the moment I feel safer than I have done in a long time.

And it’s hard to step back in.