I fucked up, I fucked up bad. I decided to talk to, work about my mental health problems. Part of me instantly regretted it but, I have been telling myself it would be ok. Then on Saturday I was told my manager wanted to know if a risk assessment needed to be done for me, at first I thought maybe it was a good idea. But as my manager is completely useless in doing anything proactive I found it disheartening to know that was his response.
It took me a while to work out that this probably wasn’t for my benefit, but was because he probably now thinks I’m dangerous and going to kill someone, or hurt someone. As he probably thinks people on the bipolar spectrum and incredibly dangerous and murderous. I am not dangerous. I have absolutely no motivation let alone desire to hurt anyone else. I am perfectly content with only hurting myself. I have to admit he is a fantastic actor because he hasn’t once let on that he knows about my condition.
So a call was made to HR, and good old HR. Human resources, looking out for the welfare of their employees!
I feel a little let down, well. Not let down. Sad, I guess. They don’t know me and their generic response is If I have a panic attack to send me home. For some that might be a good idea. But not for me. If I get sent home, I will worry about work, I will worry about if they got someone to replace me, i’ll worry about money and how I’m going to get home and how stupid I looked leaving work for what looks like no reason. And then I will worry about the fact that I am now alone, because of my stupid brain. Which, as I have come to realise means that I will probably end up hurting myself.
It’s been 4 days now since the call was made and I have pretty much just made jokes about it “Oh well, I guess I will have to go home!” or “If I start crying will you send me home?” I really need to stop joking. My partner was horrified to discover I have named my blade “Mack”, it’s a silly joke really, I probably shouldn’t be personifying it, I’m making it all a little too personal. He asked why, so I quoted random sections of the song “Mack the Knife”…. “Because I keep it out of sight.” I’m glad he doesn’t speak German because the original German lyrics of that song are far more graphic. There’s a dead guy in the street and a woman gets found with a knife in her chest. And I am about 50% another woman gets raped. I’m digressing, regardless. I need to stop joking about serious matters to do with my mental health. It is not helping me, and it is not helping others around me accept it more.
So. I guess I have to make a choice. Do I pretend that I’m ok at work and not mention my panic attacks etc…. Or do I carry on being honest and get sent home? I don’t want to go home. But I am beginning to worry, I generally work with my sleeves rolled up like Rosie the Riveter on that World War II “We Can Do It!” poster. But, I have become paranoid at the state of my arms. Ironically, the lower parts of my arms were cut accidentally when I was shaving my arms. Not that anyone who knows about my cutting believes me when I say that. I haven’t lied to those people before about cutting, I have been honest with them about when and where I have done it. So why would I lie this time? Oh! And there is also the fact that my cat insists on being held like a child with his front paws on my right arm. Unfortunately, as he is old and lazy and refuses to use his scratch post, he does have incredibly sharp, long claws which also make me look even worse. Again, why would I lie about those cuts? They aren’t deep enough, or even consistent enough to be something I did to myself.
I had a pretty harsh, mood swing today, I woke up feeling pretty happy, on the way to work, I was happy and I was great until 5PM when I absolutely crashed from what felt like the moon, right down all the way through to the earths core, where I stayed for a good 30 minutes to a point where some of my fellow staff members looked genuinely looked concerned for my safety. And they probably should have because at that point I wanted to go home and be alone and I was so very angry at myself and this damn situation. Work used to be the place I went to get away from my shitty life, now it’s just as shitty as all the other parts of my life.
The Elephant in the Room