I have felt quite good in recent days, trying to be optimistic after last weeks episode, my psychiatrist prescribed Trazadone to help with depression, and sleep. Well, it doesn't help with sleep so far. Straight after my call from my psychiatrist, Aviva insurance called. The company I work for have been excellent regarding my mental illness, and I did not for one second think the benefit I'm entitled too, would be declined.
He said I have some bad news we are rejecting your claim. I asked why given that I am under the care of a psychiatrist all my records say I have mental illnesses of various kinds which would take hours to discuss. Why have I been declined, I asked?
He said (this is an approximation as I am unable to remember his exact words), he had received my medical records since the beginning of my illness and he saw no evidence as to why I was not working. He said an illness due to the work you do is not covered. In laymen's terms, he was saying I am a lying, skiving, bastard who should be at work, and his insurance firm were not going to pay for me to skive.
I said so did you speak to my psychiatrist, and my therapist, or were you just a lazy bastard looking at the GP's notes.
Psychiatrist, he said, I see no evidence of a psychiatrist. I thought to myself fuck me I'm dealing with an incompetent idiot who is sounding so smug at giving a person with a mental illness terrible news. What a C-word ( I will not use such profanity though that is what he is).
I said yes, are you aware of the overdose last week. Now Aviva man's attitude started to change. Overdose, he said I was not aware of any overdose, you look like a lazy skiver pretending to be depressed because you don't like your job. (He didn't say that but he might as well have done).
I then said thanks a bunch pal, now I'm feeling like shit and totally depressed. He then got very stern and insisted I call the crisis team, and the samaritans, no mention of contacting the actual people helping me but what did he care. He just had to tick a few boxes covering his arse for the recording. Duty of care its called, I went back to bed and suddenly started to feel incredibly depressed, then in less than 10 minutes I heard a bang on the door, he had sent the bloody police around, this made me feel even worse. I told them they had better things to do and to get lost, which they did. They were nice enough, but I was now processing at incredible speed the idea that he thought I was a lying, skiving, bastard, and that the incompetent fool had not even bothered to find all the evidence regarding my case.
When I started at the company I work for, I told them in the first week I was bipolar and that there were times I get emotional for no reason and can get easily stressed and suffer from tremendous anxiety. The company were great, very supportive and when I did have an episode, they said it was fine and not to worry. Telling someone not to worry is not the right thing to do, telling someone they are doing well when they are not is also not good. I am my worst critic, I expect to be one of the best in any job I do, and now I was one of the worst. My mental health started to worsen, and I could not get to sleep at night. I would lie there thinking about the next day and the terrible anxiety and ridiculous stress the job caused. By Christmas, I was starting to notice the depression, and it was creeping up on me slowly. When you are bipolar, the highs are incredible, the lows are terrible, and for seven years, I had managed to control the mental beast.
I started to worry, even more, the anxiety increased I was not sleeping, I also had to contend with arthritis in my knees, which was crippling at times. Then after Christmas, they started to ramp up what they expected from us, the honeymoon period was over, and now we had to get lots of sales as well as dealing with angry clients needing their software fixed.
One day in early February, I was in work sitting at my desk waiting to start the day when I noticed I was becoming emotional. (I also have some borderline personality traits, like quick changes in emotion from happy to sad to manic in 30 minutes).
So I knew I was about to burst into tears due to the pressure of the job, it was making my mental illness traits much worse, and dangerous. I spoke to my manager, who I had always kept up to date with my mental health issues. I had just recently told her of suicidal feelings, and I sat in an office with my manager and a mental health care representative the company provides and cried like a baby. I said the pain I had to deal with daily was too much to bear, what was the point in living like this. I had no one, no relationship. My father had Alzheimer's, my mother, all alone. I didn't speak to my brother because of the abuse we suffered as kids. I felt I was alone, and after about an hour of crying and listening, to them say it's ok everything is fine, don't worry, then my manager said well you have two choices you can take the rest of the day off as sick or as a holiday. I had already been off earlier in the year and did not want to use that route, so I said holiday and they just let me leave. I was traumatised, and they just let me go, anything could have happened to me, they just let me leave. It disturbed me that episode, but I was determined not to let it affect me. I went into work the next day, and everyone was so lovely to me and very empathetic. I tend to find younger people are more empathetic to mental illness than people my age.
Nevertheless, 'the damage was done', I now knew if I continued doing that job, I would end up dead. I lay in bed at night, my mind ruminating, I was depressed and suffering from major anxiety at the same time, as well as arthritis in my knees. I went to see a doctor, and she was not helpful at all, she said oh you've seen a psychiatrist before, so it's not my problem here's a sick note and fuck off. She did not say those words, but she might as well have done. The day was Feb 13th, a Thursday if I remember correctly, just before valentines day.
I then had a mental breakdown, I could not speak to anyone, and then the COVID kicked in, and I focused on that, thinking of my ridiculous fantasy I mentioned in my last post. The pain was generally in my right knee, but now I was experiencing extreme pain in my left knee as well, and I could not walk more than 50 metres without being in intense agony.
Work told me I was going on to SSP, which is less than £400 a month. I earned more in my first job, aged 17 in the bloody eighties. Luckily, I do not have a mortgage, so I had to cancel my gym, sky, reduce my spending just to survive. I felt like a recluse, now you would think a lockdown would be perfect for someone who suffers from social anxiety, but no, it was worse. I could not shop in the middle of the night when no one was there any more. One had to queue for hours and wear masks; it was horrible. You all know what I mean you have lived through it too, March and April were terrible months. Due to COVID, it took ages to get any help. It has taken from Feb 13th until today for the NHS to change my meds and give me an anti-depressant, and I told that first inept GP I was suicidal back then, they say clap for the NHS for COVID, but for months they did not care about anyone with other illnesses.
I had a conversation with my manager and an HR representative in July just before six months was up. I told them that a less stressful job might help me recover quicker, and they organised an occupational assessment.
The doctor was a lovely Scottish lady, and I told her everything, and she seemed helpful, and she said the disability act covered me and that the company had a duty to find me a less stressful job. She said to get another sick note, and I will speak to you in six weeks. That was eight weeks ago, I then realised she worked for the company she was not there to help me but to assess me for them. I reasoned that I knew I was ill and I was not faking it, I had suffered this illness for a long time and never thought it could be bad for me. I then started realising that with COVID, what job were they going to give me. It seemed to me when the doctor never called after six weeks that they were stalling, my manager told me to wait until Oct 7th and contact her if I still had not heard anything. By October I would need another sicknote. My mind reasoned it was far cheaper for a company to have me on the sick than on furlough.
Now the SSP had finished I had to deal with the DWP, which is an ordeal in itself, they would not start any benefits until they had conclusive evidence that I was not getting any insurance. I contacted my manager, and they started the process, late, oh, and should I mention they claimed to have overpaid me and wanted the money back. Considering the company creates payroll software, the payroll department is crap at paying correctly.
I just wanted to get better I hoped the company would get me a less stressful job and I would be back at work by October, now that is not going to happen. On several occasions I asked the company to sack me, I had only been working there for nine months, I had no rights under employment law, but they never did they just sent the bloody police around. It would not look good to sack someone off work with mental health issues when you try to promote how you want to help people like me.
And so to now this second unable to sleep, I know it's early, but I thought the new meds would give me a good nights sleep which I needed—no such luck.
Today at around 12ish, paralysed with depression, suicidal thoughts racing through my mind and then the most horrific thing that I can ever remember and I have been through a lot of pain and misery in my life.
The only way I can describe it was like a stiletto knife blade, slowly driving into my brain and as it dug further and further and the pain increased, all I could hear in my mind was kill yourself, kill yourself over and over again. It felt like being possessed, the voice was quiet and clear, kill yourself, over and over as the blade pressed deeper inside my mind. I started to shake like the girl in The Exorcist. It shocked me so much I could not speak, I called a friend who has mental health issues, we help each other out when we are feeling low, and I was incoherent, all I could think of was those words kill yourself. It scared the shit out of me. I've overdosed many times, and I've tried to kill myself once though I did it as a cry for help knowing I had a 60% chance of survival, this was something completely different. I do not want to die, and I hope the idiot insurance guy gets the letter from my psychiatrist and realises you cannot speak to people with mental illness like that. He even had the audacity to lie to my manager about me waiting for private mental health sessions, which I never said. I was saying I am still waiting for the bloody doctor from the assessment to call.
Well, writing this has made me feel a little better, but I still cannot get that voice out of my head.
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