The last eight months have taught me that sometimes, it doesn’t matter one tiny bit how ‘good’ a patient I am when it comes to mental health treatment – I can still be plunged into the deepest of crises and left gasping in panic at the seemingly inevitable truth that I just cannot not bear to be alive for one more minute. It doesn’t matter how good my attitude is, or how hard I work to remain positive. It doesn’t matter how much I bust a gut to work through frustration and despair to keep up open and honest communication with doctors, employers and therapists, or how often I practice my tightly-honed coping techniques – at times I am just a slave to circumstances and/or brain chemistry. And I’m tired of seeing other people with mental health issues being vilified for apparently not doing enough to control their symptoms. Continue reading
It has, as ever, been a busy old week. I’ve stepped a little bit closer to my dream writer’s routine by negotiating a part-time contract at work so that I get more time to write and to start building up my freelance projects too. Very exciting and I can’t wait to get stuck in. I’ve spent the last few years building up my marketing and communications experience, so hey – if you want to get your products/services/crazy ideas out there, I’m your woman, get in touch.