Part 1 – Losing the fight
Thursday 7th June 2018 (10.47am)
This past week has been extremely difficult and I have not been able to write about it until today. Even now, I am only writing because my head is busy, it feels as if there are too many plugs in sockets, everything is misfiring and the danger of this is that it will explode. I have been asked lots of questions by professionals over the last 7 days but I have felt that I do not have the words to verbally articulate. Outside of my head, I have tried to continue as normal. I completed a triathlon on the weekend, the smile in the pictures masking the demons which have been attacking from all angles. I am ashamed of my thoughts of self destruction and the deceitfulness of lying to my partner as I pretend to take my medication; instead I hide it and discard it when she is not looking. I no longer want to take it and haven’t done so for a week. This is not me. This is not my behaviour and as I sit here in Starbucks I am doing my best to hold things together.
Things have changed for me, it is like the recent bit of happiness and stability which have eluded me for so long have been snatched away, as if I am not supposed to have it, or that I don’t deserve it. This is not some sort of self pity, or that I am feeling sorry for myself; far from it. It is what mental illness does, it steals lives and I cannot even say at the moment that I am grateful to be sitting here typing this out. I know this will make hard reading for those closest to me. Trust me, this is one of the hardest blogs that I have written. The next blog will be equally as difficult. What I am thankful for, is that I am meeting two friends for lunch who will no doubt take the piss and cheer me up. These are friends that have stuck by me over the last few years, gluing back pieces of the broken me.
Last Thursday I received my medical report from my SMP (Selected Medical Practitioner) who assessed whether I was fit to carry out the ordinary duties of a police officer, and if not, whether this unfitness is permanent in line with police pension regulations. It was concluded that whilst I am UNFIT, my condition is NOT permanent which means that between now and pensionable age there is a likelihood that I may be able to return to work as a police officer. This contradicts two previous Psychiatrist reports who both state that I should NOT return to the organisation. If I do, there is a likelihood that I will self harm or worse. I will not go into this here as I will cover in a separate blog when I have the reports in front of me to refer to for accuracy.
I have always been honest with professionals saying that if I have to return, I wont because of the level of anxiety I experience when thinking about work or stepping into the place. I would rather end it here and now. Suffice to say, my all or nothing personality has taken over, my impulsive behaviour has rocketed and my mood is currently rock bottom. I am horrible to be around, I have shut off from my partner, closed doors where otherwise I would have opened them and have even considered pulling out of all of my sport events which I have planned because I simply cannot be bothered with any of this anymore. My body is continually trying to catch up with the speed my brain is going which leaves me mentally and physically drained.
Where I saw happiness and a future, I no longer see this. Where I saw light at the end of the tunnel all I see now is the dark tunnels in the London Underground.
I am in discussion with my federation rep. I do not have the mental strength left in me to go through the next stages. I have given up. I have lost the fight and as this progresses I am left without pay. Another flaw in the system which is not great for someone off with mental health and no income.
To follow …… …. Part 2 (crisis team, being reported as missing and being located by police).