On Elections, Weather & Other things I can't Control

I started writing this post a few days after the Election Results. I broke off as I realised I was wholly in emotion mind and focusing on my emotional response to the whole campaign was not helpful in managing my emotions. Wise mind decision! Since then, I along with most of the country, have been trying to make sense of the re-election of a deeply unpopular government and waking up to the realisation that really so many felt they had no choice - despite being offered a choice of arguably the most varied range of political parties with a realistic prospect of gaining seats in parliament.

I will leave the politics to others who enjoy such things, but I need to make sense of some deeply troubling effects on my mental health from feeling helpless and hopeless about a process which is supposed to make me feel a part of society.

Don't get me wrong, I have encountered many people, including, presumably, those who voted for the current government, who have felt anything but optimistic and happy about the result. For me as someone with BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder), emotions are heightened and extended by the atmosphere around me, in addition to connecting with pre-existing feelings of despair and helplessness based on my life experiences. I am aware that Radical Acceptance is the right skill to use to move forward without becoming bogged down by my own self igniting feelings. Before I am able to do that I need to be able to identify the feelings that are affecting me most deeply.

1) Frustration - It has taken me three weeks, but I recognise that throughout the six weeks of campaigning I was in a near permanent state of frustration at the lack of real debate.

I was brought up in Northern Ireland, where political debate was highly emotive and strongly argued. No matter which political point of view was being represented it was always from the heart. Irish rugby teams are renowned for the 'fire in the belly' and relentless fight until the final whistle. I was weaned on such fight and passion in my politicians, whether I agreed with them or not.

Throughout this year's election campaign I was constantly dismayed by the lack of challenge from opponents of the government. More than that, there seemed to be a lack of real feeling for the impact of decisions on real people. I feel that important issues weren't aired in a truly Northern Irish level of debate - fiery and insulting, yes, but at least giving vent to strongly held opinions as well as based on facts. Another frustration was being well informed on important issues such as Health, Education and Justice and realising that, either by omission or design, the media allowed itself to be sidetracked into unimportant fripperies instead of pressing home on key points with all parties.

I felt no one was hearing my voice - and there in my frustration is where my past has met my present. As someone with BPD who for all my life has believed that I am to blame for every fault in life, either my own or others, the sense that I could not make my voice heard echoed back to the most painful moments of my life.

2) Injustice - because of the lack of real debate many who have suffered greatly in the past five years of austerity politics, again had no voice. All my life I have felt deeply inequality and injustice. As a survivor of CSA (Childhood Sexual Abuse) and in observing the scape-goating of some of our most committed public servants, I feel deeply any sense of injustice. I need to recognise when my own emotional sensitivity builds the sense of injustice to the point of being unbearable. Radical Acceptance seeks to take the sting out of that by acknowledging that actually, I cannot carry the sense of injustice for whole parts of society, on my own. Nor am I the only person who feels that injustice. Hard to hold on to when such a government has been returned to power. However, in seeking to manage the effects of these emotions there is a point where I must stop feeding the rising emotional stress and anxiety about the national situation and allow that I am powerless against it. Without wanting to fall into the cliche of 'Frozen' to 'let it go'.

Some years ago I had the privilege to work with displaced people in Northern Sudan. I don't think it is possible to find a better living example of injustice than the African tribes who were facing systemic genocide, and indeed, still do. As someone on the ground, it was impossible not to feel overwhelmed. Again, my emotional sensitivity meant that I automatically identified and joined my own suffering with the suffering around me. It resulted in me contending with culture shock alongside crippling emotional paralysis. Six weeks in, a colleague working for UNICEF spoke to me about how she coped. I now recognise the wisdom of Radical Acceptance. She said, 'Alma, you cannot change the world, but you can try to change the world for one person.' This along with the relationships built up with some war widows allowed me to see, that even the presence of outside observers able to point out the injustice was a boost to those we were working alongside. In essence the realisation that someone had just noticed there was an injustice, was a relief. I know a little of that from the moments when people have persisted with the message that it was okay to feel that what was done to me as a child was unacceptable. I also know how many times you have to hear it before you accept that it is true.

Back to the injustice apparent in the UK, I have a choice. Remain in my emotional paralysis. Or seek support from others of like mind and join together to make our voice heard. I have considered joining a political party, but I need to be free to vote according to my conscience rather than imposed party political ideas. So, I have decided to keep speaking as I am able about issues that matter to me. When I am stable and when it is unlikely to affect my emotional and mental health.

3) Fear - This week, I have suffered my most disruptive panic attack in months. In reality I have been living with a low level anxiety since the turn of the year. Most of my anxiety connects to my belief that I am worthless, something which has been reinforced by the divisive rhetoric which went on for over two months during the election campaign. At times I felt stabs of fear, as politicians divided human beings into groups of 'them' and 'us'. Having fought my mental illness over my lifetime and only been given a diagnosis which helped me access appropriate help at the age of 42, I have been dependent on state payments for three years now.

Having belonged to the 'hardworking' for most of my life - and paid into the state welfare system through tax and insurance for over 35 years, I now find myself vilified and disregarded by those in power. No major party spoke up for me effectively. At any point, because people in this country believe that the working poor, the disabled and those of us with mental health issues are 'undeserving' I could see the means to keep my head afloat pulled from under me. I am grateful for the provision that has been made for me, although would point out I have paid towards my own needs for many years. I am afraid to let people know that I am in receipt of benefits. I am afraid that I cannot keep up with my house repayments. I am afraid that the best option is for me to regress towards relapse than keep struggling to manage my condition. Having my basic needs provided for allows me space to do that.

The current 'new' government wants to increase the cuts to welfare, so that I don't become 'comfortable' on 'state handouts'. It believes, as do those who have voted for them, that all I need to be well is a job. I had a job for 35 years. I had excellent, well paid jobs for years. Finally, I was a shell of a person, because they did not address my underlying emotional and mental health needs. Because I have struggled to keep up with payments on all bills I have now fallen into fuel poverty. That means that 25% of my income is taken up with maintaining heat and light. Don't get me wrong, I have made major cut backs in an attempt to cut my costs. The fuel company has acknowledged that I have reduced my indebtedness and my annual energy costs are less than a third of those of an average household. Nonetheless the roll over deficit from winter to summer has not been cleared for the past three years, so here I am being told that I am in fuel poverty. That is hard for someone who has pride in self sufficiency to take. Such emotional struggles weary me. I am doing my best to find work that is sustainable and realistic. I cannot at present work five days a week. I am expensive for some employers due to my professional qualifications and work experience. However, the reality of managing my condition means that I need space in between periods of work - spaced out part time hours in order to prevent relapse. I have learned this over a long period of time (nearly 20 years) when I was most unstable.

What hope do I have of being allowed the time and space to fully manage my condition, when people who have terminal illnesses with a longer life expectancy of six months are being required to seek work? (one proposal from our caring government).

Behind these personal, practical fears is another more instinctive fear that as a nation we have moved beyond caring for one another, simply for being fellow human beings. Without being over dramatic I recognise in the dehumanising nature of some rhetoric and the blaming of specific groups for societal ills, historic echoes of the most heinous crimes against humanity from Germany, to Cambodia, to Rwanda. If you consider me as less than you, simply because I belong to a group 'other than' you, then that gives you permission to treat me as you will. It is hardly surprising that I have allowed this fear to grow as it has connected with the fears and realities I have already experienced as a survivor of CSA - a number of people in my life before have considered me as 'less than' and therefore given themselves permission to treat me in ways they would not wish to be treated themselves.

I have worked hard against these fears and against the labels that seek to push me down. In short, I have overcome more than anyone will ever know and I have the strength of recognising that I am more than, that I am precious because I am loved. I am not measured by how much in financial terms I can contribute, but in the person I am, the value I bring to my relationships, whether I have strength to help others less fortunate than me.

Despair - It is easy to despair and I fight against that. I need to relearn the art of hearing the positive in good relationships around me. I need to see the positives in the number of people dissatisfied with the election result. To know there are others close to me and unknown to me who recognise the injustices and the same fears for our nation.

My starting point has to be to accept the situation as it is. Just as I have to live each day in either rain or sunshine, without being able to determine or control either, so my task is to live my day to day as best I can in the society and circumstances I find myself.

Why am I not Employable?

It creeps up on me. It's a radiating paralysis. The day to day routines I have developed as part of my recovery go on, reinforcing a sense of progression, making me feel part of something... and yet. There are days when I am seized by unassailable anxiety, by a sense of foreboding, by fear that my recovery will result in having the financial rug pulled from under me. I am unable to scan job ads without triggering intensely negative thoughts and feelings about the prospects of any employer wanting to give me even the most menial of jobs.

I have never before encountered this feeling of being disposible, of not being any earthly use to anyone. My working life consisted of thirty plus years of different roles; from my first Saturday job in the local Baker's to my final role as a Probation Officer. In total between 1990 and 2012 I applied for ten posts. I always progressed to interview and was only unsuccessful in securing a post on four occasions. That is a good record - I think. I have gained qualifications and significant experience in Education, Communications and the Criminal Justice system.

The trouble with me is that, throughout my life, I have struggled with mental illness. All but my final employer were unaware of the extent of my struggles. At no point have I ever been warned over the quality of my work. If anything, as way of coping with my emotional storms, I have been a chronic over achiever. Hence the brick wall I hit every time I try to move forward in finding meaningful employment which allows me to be fulfilled, provide for myself financially, as well as maintaining management of my mental health.

Most agencies who are in place to help those with mental health issues back into work are limited in what they are able to offer me. Not all of those who suffer from mental illness have never worked. In fact any casual scan of social media discussions among the mental health community indicates that many people not only remain in employment, but are also employed in highly skilled and highly challenging careers. Without wanting to be crass I reckon I would be better qualified than most employment advisers in these agencies, particularly in my knowledge of the careers which are suited to my qualifications and experience. I don't have a problem getting interviews or even getting a job. What I need is advice and support about roles which can take account of the ways I need to manage my condition.

Most of all, the biggest hurdle I need to overcome is the suspicion in the back of a prospective employer's mind, that by employing me they risk harm to colleagues and those they may work with. My biggest challenge is in finding and maintaining consistency and stability in my moods. Ironically, steady employment is a key factor in helping me to maintain that stability.

I cannot battle mental health stigma in all its forms and fight my own corner in a competitive jobs market. Certainly not on my own. One of the biggest learning curves for me has been to accept the reality of an environment which denigrates the vulnerable and those who are perceived as 'weak'. All I can do is try to plead the case for an employer to take me on and trusting that I am applying for work at a time when I feel I am in control of my condition. Unfortunately, there are no guarantees that this will always be the case. I would point out though, that unpredictability applies to everyone. No employer can guarantee that their most healthy, go ahead, uncomplicated employee, will not succumb to a virus, an accident or some other physical or mental illness, rendering them unable to fulfil their role within the company. At least if I start to struggle with my condition, I am now skilled in recognising warning signs and taking action to prevent myself from slipping further into dysregulation. Am I really saying that I am the devil that it is better to know? Perhaps. At least the risks of employing me are knowable and therefore can be planned for.

The conclusion I have reached is that I am probably better to take on the risk of an employer by working for myself. It is sad that I don't feel there are any agencies who could help me beyond advice about CVs and interview techniques (been there done that, actually got the jobs!). It grieves me that employers find it easier to adapt buildings and other aspects of the physical environment for the physically disabled, than to engage in an intelligent discussion about the impact of the working environment and culture on those with mental health conditions.

We are caught between a rock and hard place. On the one hand I am constantly reminded by populist TV such as Benefits Street, that I am one of the drains on the nation's coffers. On the other hand, I am reminded of the fragility of my situation by employers who frankly would rather have a mediocre employee who is able to guarantee mediocrity 100% of the time, than the highly motivated and skilled 100% employee whose life could be disrupted 25% of the time. It takes investment of effort and resources to help me with the 25% of the time I may struggle - sadly few employers are prepared to do that for those with mental illness.

I think a lot of people perceive mental illness with suspicion because no one outside can see evidence of the illness, unless I am in absolute crisis. Do we need to wonder that self harm and suicidal ideation is so prevalent - dramatic it may be, but it gets more of a response than me describing my distress.

Here I sit, continuing with voluntary work in the hope that it will help me rebuild my confidence sufficiently to begin to apply for paid work again. I fear the consequences of having to work part-time, of needing to balance the reduction in benefits against work which pays the minimum wage. Above all, I am paralysed by the question, 'am I employable at all'?

Do Staff need to be Taught Compassion?

Sometimes I need time for blog posts to 'percolate'. The reasons vary, from me recognising that I need to consider the possible impact of what I am putting out there on others, to needing time to formulate my thoughts and feelings on a subject. I wanted to write about compassion in Mental Health settings since an incident before Christmas, but hesitated because my initial response was purely an emotional response to the distress of a friend. Before putting my thoughts in the public domain I needed to allow time and perspective before putting my thoughts down in black and white.

My friend is a diagnosed Schizophrenic who battles against his labels and the medicalisation of him as a person, who is more than his often disputed diagnosis. A few weeks before Christmas he suffered a major 'meltdown' - in his words. The first I knew of it was when he phoned me from the ward and asked me to visit him. This article could deal with the ongoing battles he has with his mental health team regarding his view of his auditory and other hallucinations or of his need for ongoing medication, but more than that I needed to highlight the lack of compassion he told me about on his admission to the PICU.

Over a period of some time he had been struggling with the increasing belief that he was a psychopath and therefore a major threat to those around him. He was terrified because he was convinced by these beliefs. Instead of understanding how terrifying these beliefs must be to him and the fears that they created in him about the threat he posed to those around him, some staff started to tease him, laughing about him being a 'serial killer' and even using the term 'path' when talking to him. 'Alright, path', 'harmed anyone recently, path?'.

It is a single individual incident involving one person that I know. What has concerned me most is the basic lack of human understanding and compassion for an individual clearly in distress and need. By definition, to be admitted to inpatient care in this day and age, indicates that by all clinical standards, this person is in urgent need of help. In the world outside I would expect the usual level of ignorance about mental health in general and Schizophrenia in particular, but inside a specialist Mental Health unit, surely even a modicum of professional pride and self respect dictates a better response than taunting a mentally ill man?

I try to be balanced in my consideration of such troubling incidents. I have tried to find reasons for members of staff responding in this way:

1) Stress and pressure - under-staffing, ongoing constant change and cutbacks, bring a weariness and cynicism, probably unthinkable in the early days of most of these staffs' careers?
2) Lack of adequate training about the symptoms and perceptions of Mentally Ill people who are in crisis?

Unfortunately, neither of these reasons adequately provides any acceptable rationale for the appalling lack of empathy and understanding displayed. I know in my twitter feed I can be political in my responses to the current state of the NHS, but I do believe that there is an ideological and moral battle going on for all of our public services. When patients, services users and others in need, stop being people and become units and target statistics, then the raison d'etre of our social care and health services is under severe threat.

If a person ceases to be a person, but becomes an obstacle to completing paperwork, or sitting in an office 'getting through a shift', it stands to reason that it is only a small step to not being able to see why you should 'waste' any human compassion on 'them'. And there it is: 'Them' and 'us'. There has been a rhetoric in public life which has separated us into 'camps' of rival 'tribes' of the 'deserving' and 'undeserving'. We are not in this together - or at least that has been the effect of much of the discussion in public around Benefits and other cuts to services. So the ironic comment that 'my job would be ok if it weren't for the people I work with.', ends up being a default which in turn

informs our actions towards 'those' people.

What most of the political rhetoric forgets is that for most staff in public services; NHS, Education, Criminal Justice, they did not enter a 'career path' or to seek 'progression', but most felt a vocation. Vocation cannot be conjured up, nor can its root motive, compassion, be taught or trained. I may attend any number of Mental Health Awareness training events, with input from service user perspectives, but if I fail to see the people I work with as worthy of compassion, then there is no magic bullet which will allow me to tick this off in my professional development portfolio.

Pity cries and walks away, it looks down on those in need. Compassion enters into the experience of the person in need and seeks to understand its causes and, in time, the actions which can be taken together to meet that need.

Don't get me wrong, compassion in public services costs those for whom it is the primary motivation. I would argue that the heart of compassion in many staff is why the NHS is the envy of the world. Day in and day out, committed, compassionate staff come along side the vulnerable and most hurting people in our society. This kind of response to need cannot be trained or imitated. You know it when you see it. I know when staff working with me are seeking to understand the roots of my distress. I know when staff are motivated by more than a pay packet or are just going through the motions. I know when someone, despite the limits of the system, sticks with me until, together, we find a way through to recovery.

I have been on both sides of public service and I know that when I meet staff who recognise our shared humanity, then there is a strong foundation on which therapy and medication can be built. Rather than mock the beliefs of someone in the throes of psychosis, humanity asks, 'What would I want someone to do if it was me?' Relationship depends on trust, therapeutic relationships begin with a compassionate assessment of another human being and their needs - some of them shared by all people, even me. If you view the people you work with as 'them' rather than 'us', maybe it's time for a change of career, or a holiday?