Give It A Rest. Back To Work or Back To Bed?

I'm thinking about going back to work.

I'm thinking about it because it's the end of the day on Friday and it's time to write my blog. Well, nearly time. Usually I reserve 4:00pm (my time of writing) for last minute bids which have been in the works for two weeks or so but which land on my desk with an hour or so to go of the working week. I laugh in the face of last minute bids. Seriously, nothing comes up as top of my Christmas list on a Friday afternoon work-wise, but actually these last minute things are quite fun because I have to supercharge my mental faculties and go for it.

It's nice sometimes. To feel one is to an extent the heroine of the hour. 'Elastigirl' (see below) swoops in with the slides at the eleventh hour. Delivers the goods. Writes beautiful slides. Creates a lovely balance between graphics and language. I say lovely. We're still talking about technology-related change. I love my job and all, but these slides are not Shakespeare I confess. I wonder what he might think of Power Point... Definitely up there with my desert island fly on the wall moments.

Shakespeare didn't consent to this by the way

Anyway, no bids or other work at the moment. I'm off. I may be the MVP (most valuable player) for my inability to sit still, (I learned that abbreviation via a process of elimination whilst reading Tina Fey's "Bossypants" this week) but I also know that if you don't rest (and by you I mean me) then you (I) don't get better.

I read this, but for feel good 

I'd recommend The Year of Yes - Shonda Rhimes. 

You go girl, I mean, highly successful award-winning writer.

Rest then. 

But rest can be bad for the mind even if good for the body. I've stacked up what I feel is a fairly impressive range of TV Boxsets, films and books over the last two weeks. I've also written a few notes to self, scribbled using my wonderful iPhone microphone which I discovered during my first back surgery. And I've slept a fair amount.

Netflix, I salute you. except it would be great if you showed all the 

shows available in the USA. Apart from that, you're, pretty okay.

I've also done my fair share of navel gazing. I really would prefer not to talk about that here, because I'm shaking a figurative finger at myself for that, and also I didn't plan on my navel featuring much in these web pages. Not as such. But the above does make me pause because it's rather unfortunate for my mental health suddenly being at home and forced to spend too much time on my own. My overall recovery could be disrupted by a dip in my mood, and I have felt that these two weeks.

Yep. This is me. And generous at it. This woman has super powers after all.

Unfortunately although the surgical procedure went really well and I even said goodbye to my stitches (staples even) yesterday, I have been struck with severe stomach cramps on the right hand side - apparently gas trapped inside me made worse by past stomach surgery. And not going anywhere despite a lot of muscle relaxants. I feel like I should be dropping around the house like Morph or Elastigirl. In reality I've got more hot air than both the Montgolfier brothers put together.

Pain that has come from a known but supposedly temporary source is unpredictable but unlike my mental health, because this is supposed to dissipate in days rather than months or years even it is annoying for each day it remains as a guest, tolerated but ever out- staying its welcome.

My mental health in the other hand. I wasn't exactly surprised to feel deflated (ironically) to be stuck at home with even washing my hair a now painful as well as seemingly gigantic task. But it had to raise its ugly head and remind me it was still there. "Oooh me! Me! Me! Me! Me!" as if jumping up and down and leaping for the chance to receive the ball pass.

Whereas in reality...

This.

Yeah, don't worry Depression, it's not easy to forget about you. And thanks for reminding me that staying away from work is not the way to further my career. You're right, it won't. I won't do anything at home while off sick because I'm ill and that, my dear, is the whole idea.

Hey there. You, know, I'm feeling a little big boned today.

But I also know that I won't get better hurtling back into work when I can still not stand without bending over in puffball agony. Not just because it won't be my most attractive pose. But also because I've been to the wellness centre at work and it's fab, but the duvets at home are within much easier reach thanks, and I can also wear my very cute jumper with the rabbits on. These are important considerations.

This is the exact style of jumper that I mean.

I own one of these!

Seriously, I cannot count the number of sick days I had off from school when I desperately didn't want to go and did and then felt awful, nor the days I didn't go and didn't feel good either. I also have had days when I went in to school or work or university when I didn't want to and it has been fine. Mentally I have to decide every time whether it's bad enough to be off or whether work (of whatever sort) will help to distract me and manoeuvre me into a better state of mind. 

This is not an exact science, but physically it's easier to determine. I can't move without being in fairly extreme pain. Okay. That means no work. Or at least if it subsides the smallest chance to work at home but absolutely no travelling, no carting a heavy laptop around and no uncomfortable clothing. My laptop's video camera will not be in use. I would not wish my frankly fabulous mouse pyjamas to distract people from the seriousness of my "message".

I don't have these exact ones. But like these.

And mentally while this is going on I have to do what I can (as always) as we all do to take care of the physical stuff so it's as unobtrusive as possible and provide some sort of active rest - watching, reading, writing... Okay I admit, also playing Angry Birds. Active rest meaning something that isn't too much or stressful (okay, might have to take out Angry Birds) but keeps my mind going and away from my navel.

Which is currently covered in an attractive range of winter woollen leggings and an assortment of sweatshirts people in the eighties might have thought appropriate for callisthenics. (My iPhone just spelled that for me, I take no credit.)

All this and more. I am an eighties icon

(lying down without the trainers)

So, it's now 6pm and would usually be time for clocking off. So clock off I shall. From my blog post. I have no idea how I'll feel on Monday but there are two whole days in between, including your favourite and mine, consumer goods made up price-hoiking day of the year, or Valentine's Day if you must. But as I always say at the end of these posts take care. Health is precious. Take that from me. Michelin man. Take care. X

(This was created by adventuregamestudio.co.uk

Those people have serious time on their hands

and even more serious coding enthusiasm!)

Just Take Five...and Five...and Five... :Can I Become an Executive with Mental Illness?

About a month ago, late August, early September, I don't exactly know when, I felt myself sinking towards rock bottom with my depression. Again. I came to my therapy session with my wonderful, patient, CBT therapist and couldn’t stop crying. For practically the whole session. A few things had come at me at once the day before, and the morning of that day, that winded me, and I fell straight down into deep depression. All we ended up doing during that session was trying to help me to stop crying, because I just couldn't. 

Rock bottom. Yeah, I liked this photo too. Ha.

I was kept at hospital that day, while my therapist, my therapist key worker, the doctor on shift, other therapists and a locum psychiatrist assessed my level of risk at various stages of the day. Were they prepared to let me go home? Would I harm myself, while I felt so completely that there was actually not much point of going home, of going anywhere in fact? During this limbo hospital time. Waiting in the purgatory of numbness and pain in equal measure, I shuffled along to my day patient groups but didn't talk. I wasn't just numb, I was mute. I am not someone who usually struggles to express what's going on, but all the words had drained out of me. I was dry, desolate, lifeless inside.

Dumbed by Depression

After speaking to several of the staff at hospital and confirming that - in fact - I would prefer to go home and promised that I wouldn't harm myself rather than be admitted to hospital again. (Which would have meant I'd have to deal with all the stresses that would have brought (pay caps from work because of my last year's absenteeism record, worries about bills, worries about whether friends would just give up on me because, clearly I was a lost cause)) I went home and to bed. I still felt numb. I took the doctor's advice and upped a couple of the over-the-counter things I take to help me to sleep / be sedated, although I was - frankly - fairly appalled that this was considered to be the only option - i.e. "Let's make you more of a sleep walker, less engaged with the world than they are; in fact let's put you to sleep so that you just pass through the days without engaging with anything at all." 

"Great," I thought. "More zombie like. What is the difference between this and being put into a coma? Really, why am I bothering? Is this what the next thirty years will look like? No thanks. No."

Stunned and Stunted by Sedatives

On Woman's Hour a couple of days ago, Jane Garvey helped radio 4 reach "peak radio 4" by making fresh pesto with Sally Clarke. At the end of the show, Jane remarked something like "It is absolutely lovely, it really does [taste as if it's just been made]..." and even Jane (apparently not a born chef?) thought she could manage this pesto: "even I could do that in probably not much longer [than five minutes]".

Sally Clarke

But that is not the point.

Think of all the things that 'only' take five minutes: getting out of bed? Well, that only takes 30 seconds if you shove away the duvet, kick your legs out and leap out. Have a shower? That takes 3 minutes if you're in Melbourne - or less, or maybe five if you're not exactly luxuriating in the bubbles. Getting dressed? 

5 minutes must be enough for that, if you don't count makeup and styling. Add another 5 for those, go ahead, be generous. Then 5 to pack up your lunch, grab your keys and leave the house. 5 + 5 + however many other five minutes to get to your car, the bus, the station, the taxi, the airport, and off to work, or wherever you're headed that day. 

How many fives is that? And that's just the start.

Woman's Hour... Is amazing

This week I heard on Woman's Hour (in a different episode) that fewer women are applying for senior positions. According to a study conducted by Harvard Business School, women associate power with conflict and don't want it. (And by conflict they mean conflicts - like family, for example. Board level executive versus CEO of mummy.) Some female leaders like Sheryl Sandberg tell us to 'lean in', that is, to move towards ambitious career opportunities and not say to ourselves, "I will not go for that position / that promotion because in a couple of years I might want to have children and..." But what about for mental health?

In my therapy session this week, I discussed with my therapist my current exploration of what I could do to make life better or easier. To make life liveable. You see, on that day above, when I was so low, my therapist didn't lie to me and tell me that everything would be completely better one day. In fact she said that I might always have to manage these feelings. That it might never get better. Never. Never ever. I might always have days when all I wanted to do was to not wake up the next day, when I felt that I had utterly failed (contrary to any rational proof) and that I was a ridiculous burden to everyone. And in any case, I wasn't having any fun. None. And so what was the point?

So, on that day, when I was wondering about whether I actually wanted to live at all, I went for my natural response to all situations: practicality. "What can I do to make my life better, if I'm going to have to get through the next thirty to fifty years (or, goodness knows, even longer) with this diabolical illness?"

I saw a locum psychiatrist as mine was away on (much deserved) holiday. (I say much deserved because, for goodness sake, even I can see that psychiatrists and all health professionals are people, and that they need time off, just like everyone else, so they can be productive.) He suggested I might like to see a life coach with an understanding of psychiatry so that I could explore options for changing my life and what I filled it with so that, on those terrible, awful days, I could at least look at the essentials and think: "Well, you're doing some good. You're helping someone, you're supporting people, you're trying to make people's lives better. And you're being creative. So, you see, Jessica, there is a point to your being here, even though you just want to close your eyes and never open them again."

However, seeing my therapist this week - after a month of getting used to new medication, and of making a couple of changes (and, for those of you who missed it, completely freaking out with massive anxiety at being named on the @BrummellMag (Brummell Magazine) list of 2015 inspirational women of diversity and then being shortlisted and having to attend a judging panel for the 2015 Women of the Future Award in the category for Community Spirits) I learned an alternative perspective. 

(Incidentally, this is the last year I qualify as a WOF @womenoffuture, #wof10yrs. Next year, I become a Woman of the Past. I'll be launching those awards very soon. Ha.)

My therapist said to me, "You have really changed. you're so much better than you were last year. You can't see it, but I can." And: "I'm not sure that you need to add more things to your life. your life is full of good things - your job, your blog and mental health work, your husband. You are already doing a lot!"

Finally, she said: "Your problem is not that what you're doing is bad; it's the feelings that are bad."

She is right. Those five minute activities described above, I can do about 150 of them, of those things that 'only take five minutes' in a relatively normal day, maybe 190x5 on a very full on day. I can do a lot, and I generally try to select meaningful things to do, because I know how hard it is for me to break through the numb wall of antidepressants and reach some kind of contentedness with life.

But on a bad day? I can still do 150 five minute things. I can maybe do more. But I don't want to do a single 1 of them. In fact my body and mind are fighting me against every. Single. One. Of those five minute activities. "Stop. Go back to bed. Close your eyes. Shut everyone out. Shut down."

So what does that mean for me? 

Am I one of those women referenced by the Harvard Business School? HBS studied 4000 men and women in total and "concluded that women are less likely to apply to rise up the corporate ladder because even though they feel they could get the job, they don't want to deal with the 'conflict' (my single quotation marks) that comes with corporate power." [Jenni Murray, Woman's Hour, 25th September 2015]. This means conflict against life goals / choices - trade offs and sacrifices that women would have to make at a higher level, rather than face interpersonal conflict on the job and at home as they juggled various enormous pieces of their life towards having a very successful career and a very enriched home life.

My FAVOURITES. Jenni Murray and Jane Garvey on Woman's Hour

The 30% club is about to change its focus towards board-ready women, that is, women ready for the executive. Clearly I have some way to go here as I'm at best a middle-senior manager at the moment. However, my firm KPMG co-published a study - Cracking the Code - which showed that it's really a lack of promotion rather than attrition which explains why women aren't making it to the top. Women are twice as likely to leave jobs on the way up because of the opportunity cost those higher level positions bring.

So am I one of those who are eschewing power because of the conflict associated with it? Not at the moment. At the moment I'm managing to do all those things above - I complete all those five minute activities. Like showering. Which, FYI, is not on the job descriptions of positions I've been looking at for over the last five years or so. Or so. 

But I don't know whether I can succeed or even survive in a job (anymore, or maybe not ever) where I consistently have to work 15+ hours in a working week day, every day. I know I have a smart mind, a willing heart, and a passionate drive to make a difference. I know I have the commitment to try to keep succeeding, to keep 'leaning in' and progressing. 

But working all hours is not - and never will be - good for my mental health (let alone my physical health). Can I still succeed in business on my own, balanced, healthier, terms where my five minute activities never reach the point where I've used up nearly every five minutes in that day, to the detriment of future health, the success of my ambitions, the satisfaction and transformative changes for the clients I work with, or the benefit of the mental health charities I am committed to supporting?

Do I have as much choice as I think I should have? Let's see...

The answer to these questions needs to be "Yes", but I really don't know if "yes" is the answer. My progress should be judged on outputs rather than the count of the five minutes I dedicate to my work. But one could argue that others with more stamina to put in more of those five minutes, just as productively, are going to overtake me in the career stakes (male or female) just based on their ability to go another five minutes. To do another thing when I had to stop to keep myself from becoming ill.

If I stay in business I imagine I will find out the answer to these questions. For now, I'll just try not to worry about them, which might cycle into anxiety or depression, and prevent me from doing those basic five minute activities.

So for now, I think I'll just go and buy a jar of pesto. Take care this weekend. x

Guest Post: Juggling - the Fine Line Between Working & Mental Health

I am so pleased to welcome +Claire Robinson-Ayres (BrizzleLass)  to my blog for the first ever guest post! 

http://brizzlelass.co.uk/

Claire writes about her experiences working alongside life-long mental illness, with an eventual diagnosis of bipolar. When I read this I am reminded of how strong, resourceful and creative many sufferers of mental illness are. Even though her health makes working extremely hard, Claire still holds on to her ambition and drive. Thank you Claire, for this inspiring story. +BrizzleLass Blog 

I first started showing signs of problems with my mental health as a young child, when I was diagnosed with depression and emotional instability at just nine years old. Being part of the mental health system was nothing new to me, and if anything it made me all the more determined to be 'normal' and to show everyone I could be successful and I did, to the detriment of my mental health.

I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder when I was 25, by which time I had forged a career in marketing within professional services, most prominently in the legal sector. I worked hard at my career while juggling my illness for several years. In the end I left professional services as it was far too stressful and worked part time in online marketing; but even that wasn't enough to stop my illness taking over, especially when a mystery physical problem appeared which took a few years for doctors to diagnose and resolve.

I was forced out of my job in 2013

After being forced out of my job in 2013 I decided to set up as self-employed and start managing my workload more effectively. I had some great contacts from my 15 years of experience. I started contacting people, and the work slowly started coming in. I managed to get enough work to keep me busy 2-3 days a week, which was just what I had hoped for.

I had a great rapport with my clients and they appreciated having someone who understood social media algorithms and could put together plans to utilise their marketing budgets effectively. I spent my time writing social media posts, blogs, rewriting blog content, sorting out SEO, and generally doing the kind of marketing I really enjoy. I made my clients happy, made them money and all was good.

Then hypomania started, I went from working 2-3 days a week to working 18-20 hours a day, seven days a week. Now for a start I didn't have near enough work for this, but I managed to do it anyway, I would sit at my kitchen table, bent over my laptop working like my life depended on it, I would just be typing away, correcting things, rewriting posts, pages, changing spreadsheets, reformatting invoices. You name it I found it to do. 

This spectacular demonstration of hypomanic obsession went on for four months, at which time I crashed into the deepest depression I've ever been in. In my entire life, through all the depressions I've ever known nothing has been like this. In the space of a week my business folded and I was bankrupt.

As if that wasn't bad enough I tried to take my life for the first of six times that year, I was at the beginning of what was to become the year from hell and it was only April! Later I joked that at least I lined my breakdown up with the financial year for HMRC!

I went from always being the person who worked, and found a way through to having no job, no business, no savings, no money. For the first time in my life I had to turn to DWP; it was the most humiliating process of my life (and bankruptcy was very humiliating)! I've been on these benefits just over a year now and to this day I hate them, I feel sad that my life reached a point where I became that sick. 

I work really hard with the team that helps with my mental health care, and I have a clear goal of being able to work again in the future. But I also need to reach a point where I am stable. This is something I have never been and it is an issue my mental health team are helping me deal with. Between medication and therapy we will get there.

I'm not good at doing the 'sick' thing though. I can't just fill my days with nothingness. I'm a born worker-bee. So I started blogging again. I now write about mental health, I'm trying to be an advocate, to speak out and encourage others to. The more people speak of their experiences honestly the less 'hidden' it will be.

I also review books: reading gives my mind peace; it calms the 'voices' I hear and regardless of whether I'm depressed or manic I get some time out. Writing is also very therapeutic to me so finding different ways to write has helped immensely.

"I also review books: reading gives my mind peace"

I have a daily to-do list, which contains all the daily basics for when I'm depressed and struggle to even get out of bed, so an achievement will be ticking off things such as: shower, eat breakfast, make lunch, clean teeth, go outside. On more normal days, the idea is to do more interesting things on the list like writing, or walking, making sure housework is done. When I'm hypomanic I need to make sure I don't go overboard and so must do no more than is on that list. For example, I have a tendency to go out for a short walk and come home 5 hours later so I will set a timer and that will tell me to turn and go home regardless of how much I want to continue!

My life hasn't quite turned out how I planned: I thought I would be a company director by now. But that wasn't meant to be. Instead I've discovered I'm immensely creative. Words come to me when I start writing and I'm using that gift to raise awareness. I will go back to work but what I will do exactly I don't know.

I do know that I won't let Bipolar beat me!

Please do come and follow me at my blog BrizzleLass.co.uk, on Twitter @BrizzleLass, or on Facebook see BrizzleLass Blog.