A Guide To One Of Those Days

A simple guide to one of those days.

This day got itself in gear bright and early with a series of panic attacks from 4am, the early attack gets the worm don’t you know?

Who needs breakfast when you’re choking so hard on anxiety it’s hard to even get a cup of tea down.

What better way to spend mid-morning than hiding in a consultant’s office ‘to scan’ because the slightest word or look will send you into a meltdown of ugly crying.

Try not to wince every time sexual assault/abuse is mentioned on the radio (on the hour every hour!), triggers do feel free to play up with no consideration to how I’m feeling.

Always keep a tight bite on your tongue when you’re quizzed as to what you’re having for lunch as the thought of food turns your already plummeting stomach.

Grumble to yourself that for the last month the radio station has decided to play a Jennifer Lopez song at approximately 11am each day, ponder to yourself how she is still relevant.

Prepare to repeat the above until bedtime when you’ll struggle to get off to or stay asleep without the obligatory OCD, anxiety or remembering upsetting things.

And repeat.

You have a nice day now! 

Love Jen

XxxX

The Story Of #MeToo

Today I want to tell you a story, it’s about an 11 year old girl just started Secondary School and nervous and miserable as hell. “Why can’t I just get on and fit in like everyone else?” “Or get some attention from the (rapidly forming) in-crowd and make friends with them, surely there’s room for one more” our heroine asks herself. Well dear readers her wish was granted just not in the way she thought.

It was a normal kind of day for young Jen, she’d walked in the school entrance with dread and was dutifully waiting outside her tutor room trying to make herself as invisible as possible from her now-departed friends, for they had far better things to do and far cooler people to talk to, and the rest of the class. Whilst deliberately looking away from everyone so as not to make eye contact Jen noticed a boy coming over to her, he was one of the cool popular boys, “Does he want to talk to me?” wondered Jen in shock but sadly it was not to be. In front of all his friends he walked up to Jen and roughly grabbed her butt and had a good feel between her legs whilst he had the chance much to the sneers and laughter of his friends.

It’s a story that my brain had buried deep in its recesses, covering it with other memories of bullying and embarrassment. It literally popped out during a counselling session a month or so back and now I’m ready to tell you about it.

Looking back on it a lot changed that day that would affect me from then on. When I told my parents about it in a distressed manner later on that day they were furious and went to the school the next day to see my head of year. Nothing was done, the boy in question got a detention and I lived with the repercussions for 5 more years. After the detention had been served I was mocked for ‘telling’ on him and was made to think that I’d made a fuss out of nothing and caused trouble for him. From then on despite grabs of my boobs, being felt up in a stairwell and so on I stayed silent, I tried to think that in between being told I was ugly that I  surely can’t be that ugly if some of the guys wanted to cop a feel? Plus if your boobs are being grabbed in full view of a teacher at the front of a classroom it’s ok right?

It’s only now after speaking to my counsellor that I can admit to myself that yes I was sexually assaulted and no it wasn’t ok. Admitting is technically the wrong term, it implies that I’m in the wrong for what happened and I damn well wasn’t, I can see that now. I was publically shamed by his actions and further shamed by attempting to gain justice for what happened to me. I’m starting to take ownership of what happened, I can see that it now links to a lot of my other issues. My discomfort and freaking out if people are in my personal space (put it this way I’m stuck with Liam Gallagher-esque eyebrows because last time I had them done  having the woman stand over me to thread them gave me a panic attack). It explains why in a way I hide behind being fat and feel relief that no-one can find me attractive.

It caused my greatest shame and biggest hurt, the inability to have sex without excruciating pain. Despite being in a loving relationship with my fiancée in the nearly 7 years we were together there was never an occasion that I didn’t feel like a knife was being twisted between my legs. It makes sense now, my body’s defence mechanisms were coming up, I was physically remembering what had happened even though my brain was racking itself trying to work out why I was such a frigid freak. I put up with it as I didn't want my partner to 'miss out' on what he was 'entitled' to from our relationship. 

I get told off by my counsellor when I try to say that it could have been far worse, at least I wasn’t raped etc, I’ve learnt that sexual assault is sexual assault whatever degree it is. The incidents were non-consensual sexual contact and I suffered and continue to suffer for it. I was also stuck with my abuser and other boys who felt it was ok to grab my boob etc for 5 long years without seeing any justice and being pretty much hung out to dry by the school.   When I was added to a school reunion group the guy who did it was in there, his profile picture is him with two small boys who I assume are his kids. I wonder if he remembers now what he did, whether he’s gotten over the ‘injustice’ of his detention. Mostly I hope that he brings his kids up to have more respect for women’s and girl’s bodies than he did.

#MeToo

Love JenX

xxX

World Mental Health Day - Mental Health In The Workplace

Today marks the 10^th Anniversary of Rethink starting the annual World Mental Health Day amongst its’ other campaigns. This year’s special focus is on Mental Health in the workplace which I have quite a lot of experience in the care, or lack thereof offered by companies.

I’ve experienced both the best and the worst treatment of mental health in various places I’ve worked and even a contrast within one job. Many of us who have a mental illness (I don’t like to say suffer anymore as to me it sounds weakening and trust me those who live with a mental illness are some of the strongest people you will ever meet!) are afraid to disclose or speak up about having a mental illness for fear of being mocked or people thinking they aren’t capable of doing their job.

My first experience of mental health in the workplace was as a buyer in a company who repaired photo and x-ray machines. It was an incredibly fast paced and stressful workplace, I was often on the receiving end of a barrage of abuse from managers if orders went wrong or were delayed in their shipping (all beyond my control). I had two periods of being signed off in the 4 years I was there, the first was when I was made supervisor of the department and the added stress of being screamed at by one of the managers day in day out caused my self-harming to escalated to a serious daily habit. At the time I was writing a MySpace (ask your parents kids) detailing the stress I was under (without naming the company or employees involved so absolutely anonymous) and a well-meaning friend in the office spoke to HR as she was concerned for my well-being and had witnessed my treatment for herself.

The lady in HR was fantastic, she understood and signed me off for two weeks to give me an immediate break for the situation. When I came back my return to work was dealt with by my manager and not HR, my line manager (an older gentleman) told me that with immediate effect I was to step aside from the role and he “sincerely hoped I’d learnt the error of my ways”.  Looking back I can’t believe that it was suggested that being ill or struggling with the attitude of managers was some kind of error on my part. But at 20 years old and trying to cope with aggressive management I just accepted it.

My next period of being signed off was for a month 3 years later. A large amount of staff had been made redundant, my team went from 3 of us to just myself. Once again all the responsibility landed on me along with the hassle from management. My stress levels became unbearable once again and my GP signed me off for a month. When I returned to work I had a brief meeting with my manager and a member of HR (The lovely lady from before was long gone after being told she was ‘taking the side of the staff too often’ vs management) and explained the reasons why I had been signed off. No discussion was had about strategies that could help reduce my stress and my problems were just swept under the carpet and my condition ignored. No phased return to work was proposed and I went straight back into a 6 day week. All through my time with the company I was made to feel inadequate for struggling with the stress and daring to be ill and also ashamed to be trying to cope with my depression and anxiety.

You may have read in my blogs from 2014/15 about the troubles I had in my last job in relation to how my illness was received and dealt with. When I first started I was open in both my interview and with my colleagues when I’d gotten to know them about being ill. Initially the reception was great, I was very supported – given time off for counselling sessions arranged by the department and touched base with managers frequently so they could check how I was doing. This all changed one day back in March 2014 when we discovered that a memory stick I’d returned in the post to a nursing home had gone missing. Whilst I took full responsibility for the missing stick as it was sent out ‘on my watch’ the repercussions went further than that. All of my previous work was under scrutiny and any mistakes that I’d made were suddenly dragged into light, a lot of these mistakes were made whilst I was changing across medications from an anti-depressant to a mood stabiliser which was a pretty big shift with a lot of side effects.

The effect of the scrutiny meant that I made mistakes through nervousness and lack of confidence sent my moods into haywire and my anxiety through the roof. I returned to self-harming after nearly a year ‘free’ to cope with the noise created in my brain. I won’t go into all the details again as I’ve been over and over them in the past but basically I was accused of ‘playing the mental health card to make it difficult for them to put me on Performance Management’. I basically went from a promising member of staff who copes fantastically well with her illness to a liability hiding behind her illness purely to make things difficult for them. Thankfully I’m well shot of that job but I am sad at the way it ended as I really enjoyed my work and the people I worked alongside.

I work under the Temporary Staff Bank at my local hospital now doing basic admin, sending out letters and filing etc. Being on a technically zero hours contract means that in theory I can have time off whenever I want which is helpful for appointments etc. However I have struggled with attitudes towards my problems again, I have always been very open in this job as previously but due to various bad patches I went through last year and earlier this year (Particularly around losing both Kay and Stelly within a few months of each other) I had a lot of ‘sick days’. Whilst I am not obliged to work a ‘shift’ and required to let my line manager know at least an hour before I would be due to start (I used to leave a message 2 hours in advance) this still caused a lot of problems. It was suggested that the amount of time off I’d had would be “understandable if you’d broken your leg”. Unfortunately demonstrating that mental vs physical health discrimination is alive and (not so)well still. The flip side is that the girls I work with are amazing, they support me and always cheer me up on a bad day. 

Hopefully this year’s focus on Mental Health in the workplace will not only educate employers about their duties towards the wellbeing of their employees and the importance of supporting and understanding them, but also empower those with mental illness to feel confident in speaking up about their condition and asking for the help that they need.

Love Jen

XxxX

Autumn Missing In Action

This week I've (OK well my brother of far greater height than I) put up my Autumn leaves & mushrooms bunting that I made a few years back as a concession to Autumn.

Everyone gets excited about Autumn and the new season (I fully admit to pouring over the September editions of Vogue each year) and the start of the run up to Christmas (ugh), the colours, berries etc. But has anyone noticed we seem to have skipped Autumn and gone straight to (warmish) winter? It's rained about 20 of the 29 days of September so far, been damn cold and bloody gloomy. I'm starting to feel justified when I refer to "shitty Autumn".

I feel bad for all the Autumn lovers out there (pretty much everyone I know except me) as September's been such a washout. I never thought last Sunday that I'd need my rain poncho AFTER the airshow (Duxford, v good) to run from the coach round the corner to my house.

There's been no sign of the Autumn colours everyone loves, I guess the leaves are getting washed away before they get a chance to turn. I must admit to feeling peeved that the one year I've nagged Mum and Helen into a trip to Sheffield Park for me to photograph the colours there'll probably only be puddles to be found!

I never thought I'd be the one to declare Autumn MIA!

Love Jen
XxxxX

Ps 32 days 'TILL Halloween 🦇

A Cure For Intolerance?

I can't believe I'm actually seeing this on my Sky Timetable. I've heard before about attempts to 'cure' gay people and it makes me feel physically sick.

If you're looking at it from a religious point of view, in attempting to 'cure' the way a person feels and loves, would that not be denying the way that God (or whoever you worship) has created them? If your almighty deity has made something or someone a certain way should that not be set in stone?

Surely any 'god' would be more interested in whether a person is living their life as a good person. Being kind, generous and tolerant towards other human beings is what matters, not who you love.

Another thing that make me furious is that you wouldn't see a programme allowed on TV that endorses Islamic Extremism, Violence or heaven forbid Paedophilia. To me suggesting that a large percentage of the world's population is somehow 'broken' is just as dangerous a message. I personally would be just as concerned about my child or teenager coming across this propaganda as messages from ISIS.

In this world of hate surely we can celebrate love of all kinds?

Love Jen
XxxX

Some Evening Prettiness

I was lucky enough to catch a photo of these Sunflowers as the sun went down this evening.

Also I'm proud to reveal that I've finally learnt how to 'tag' my posts so that you can all skip straight to 'bunnies'.....

Love Jen
XxxxX

Elevator Music 🎶

This is kind of a stop gap blog as I haven't written in nearly a month, and if by some miracle I was to achieve my dream of being some kind of Author/Blogger (of the music variety would be my ultimate goal) then being lax with posts isn't the way to go.

I've been shying away from blogging the last few weeks as during my counselling sessions we've been digging out some pretty heavy stuff that I'd kinda blocked out, incidents at school that I'd tried to laugh off or ignore at the time but would actually be taken far more seriously nowadays.

And I shall write about it sooner rather than later; once I have it all a bit straighter in my head, not in an attention seeking/airing dirty laundry/sensationalising, or whatever other adjectives are thrown at people who speak about their abuse manner, but at the moment I'm still at the stage where I need to sort it in my own head before telling you about it.

Love to you all

Jen

XxxxX

Ps here is a photo of Esme for you to admire in the meantime!