Facade

I had a solid meltdown in work.

I haven't told my parents yet but they are my main readers so, hi mom and dad, guess what happened in work!

I make no secret of my mental health, it's been something people try to stigmatise but with Prince William being an advocate for awareness and acceptance, I feel attitudes are shifting.

I guess it's been building. The last month was spent putting myself under huge pressure to pass a work funded course, mainly because it's important but also because if work are paying it's doubly important that I don't fail AND don't show up my workplace (it was out of state with a partner company so I was alone too, but the fellow students where amazingly supportive and friendly, reasoning that they too had once been the "out of state candidate". Soft skill learnt: include the outsider ). The course was so tough they sent candidates home on the first day and told them it wasn't for them. My company had invested huge amounts of time and resources in me to do this course. Fortunatly for me I passed.

My partner came with me, but we discovered too late the hotel is dog friendly so she went to family. I mean, my partner is my rock and support network but having a furry copilot who gets excited over cheese (like, who doesn't?!) is always lovely.

My partner went on holiday the day after the course. She works hard and our shifts conflicted so she went with her mother. I'm at this point looking at a busy work week, so the furry little copilot is going to have to stay with family while I work.

They say that money issues impact mental health and due to change of jobs ten (!) months ago, I'm trying to live a 30k lifestyle on 20k. I'm not poor but I've had to dig out emergency funds because I had more month at the end of my money, and not May, I mean June's paycheck is gone before the end of May.

More importantly, it was my mothers 30th anniversary on Sunday. They say time heals all wounds and I say fck that. It took me harder than I thought, my partner took the one photo I have of her and got a key chain and an enlarged copy made, so I can bring her with me when I go out. I spent Sunday with in-laws and the doggo.

Caseload in work has been routine and Wednesday was no different except I found the paperwork lacking, the materials damaged and no effort made by the previous shift to do basic inventory checks.  Apparently I was being curt with colleagues, forgetting my manners and being irritable. As the shift progressed, I got more frustrated.

I stimm by rubbing the back of my head, increasing in severity and intensity to relieve stress. When that's not working, I'll escalate to punching myself in the back of my head. I've still got a lump and tender patch two days later.

My manager is mental health first aid trained and she calmly explained to my colleagues what was happening and how it would play out. She reorientated me to tasks, stripping away any other issues. She involved our manager, I'm man enough to say i cried to her, who released me from work, pushed an occupational health referral for support. I contacted my own head doc but she's not available until next week.

So I have a week off. I'm going to see my parents. My bestie built me a spreadsheet for household finances. I'm going home for a few days to see friends, family and be away for a bit.

I think a good reflection, apart from the fact that I was clearly fragile and I need to do more for my mental health (I believe I should be the stoic one who just gets on with work, no matter how bad it is, whereas maybe I should have more me time, which is why I don't do over time), it's how difficult it can be for high functioning autisic people in every day life. I come off as a normal, I've got language, basic literacy skills, relationships, friends (squints at friends), can manage a house (squints at dishes in sink). I think it's a surprise to me (and others) when everything slips and I have, what I imagine looks a violent, meltdown. It's easy to forget I have ASD, and when my colleague began listing the paranoia, anxiety, confusion, head fog, I told her to get out of my head. An overload meltdown is rare but it was a scary enough experience.

Always round up on a positive. There's a job that uses the course I just completed and I need to apply. I'll work on that after the weekend.

Until next time, take care and be awesome to each other.

Update: not even published and I've an update. Work support rang to ensure I was OK, complimented my strategy and support network and told me to call them next week to see if there's even more they can do. How awesome is that?

Mental health

Yes, I'm being unsubtle but screw prose, male mental health is a serious issue that should be openly discussed.

So, if you read back I've talked about throwing away boxes of antidepressants, taking drugs and drink (ironically as therapy) and suicide. No spoilers but I'm back in therapy.

So during the break, I lost a job (and how to frame that might be the challenge of this series of blog posts). Id been doing so well but as a manager I decided to grow and more to a different warehouse unit and well, in my biased opinion, being halfway competent didn't endear me to management.

Long story short, that job loss triggered my anxiety and depression, as well as hidden Complex PTSD. Funny how getting dragged to therapy can uncover things. To paraphrase the Titanic Muesem, I was fine before I went to therapy.

I'm by no means the only one in my circles with mental health issues. I'm all too familiar with the feeling of being FINE, even when you aren't and others can see it. Guess it just took a trained professional to see it.

So currently in therapy.

Anxiety is a hell of a mind fuck, constantly telling me im wrong  and I've missed something vital, but when coupled with depression, it's an absolute burning storm because your mind simultaneously tells you you've cocked something up while also robbing you of your drive to fix it, even when vital things like jobs depend on it. Add to that the autistic paranoia that you're missing social cues and tones (the joke translation of the phrase: "as per my last email" meaning "learn to fucking read" is a good example), and I'm honestly surpised I get out of bed some days.

But then I realise that there are people much worse than I and I guess another day in work won't kill me. Oh woe is me with my job and sustainable income and life partner and dog.

This month is autism awareness month, so I should find some way to capitalise on that. Oh well next week......

Late Diagnosis

If my life had a tag line. 🙄

Growing up in Ireland I got held back Two grades because you know, I'll catch up to the other children by going slower (it's a real Irish solution) and makes me feel like I live in Cyprus Creek working for the Globex corporation.

Geeky relevant reference aside, I'm left wondering if id be diagnosed earlier, would life have thrown insurmountable barriers in my way? By being told "you're not able" would I have a lost a lot of determination and drive that's got me to where I am today?

Speaking of drive, my licence is up for renewal. I'm shit scared I'll lose my independence if they take it off me. No offence to taxi drivers but I can't take the anxiety of waiting for a car that might be late. I hate being late.

Well, guess I'll find out when I apply......

Let's play catch up

Last post was two years ago, in April 2017.

Time flies when you're experiencing change I guess. A lot has happened and the blog fell by the way side (even with it's own regularly viewed FaceBook page) and  it just felt like I was in control of my disabilities and a blog with no insightful content isn't exciting, it's dull and samey.

Funny what depression and anxiety can do. See! New diagnosis to add to the blog! Disability never changes, but apparently it does and I should really blog about it, if not for anyone else's benefit then it least my own ("feeling fine" on a typewriter kind of thing).

A blog I read years ago had an entire thread about it being therapy, to be able to talk into the void. Well guess where I'm going with this?

Oh, and a teaser intro post to re introduce my blog while I write a catch up "previously on the Aspy Journey"?

You're welcome.

Only joking.

Two year update:

•I've moved jobs, much happier with great support.
•I've started seeing a therapist who's diagnosed me with anxiety, depression and CPTSD (yes, these will be future topics)
•I'm in a new relationship and a new town.

All caught up? Good. See you next week.

No post this week

So, unless you follow me on Facebook or Twitter (hint, hint, click click), you'll be surprised there's no full post this week.

Why? 

Because I'm a fat lazy sod who decided he liked the blog the way it were and don't need no fancy new regimen to boost credibility or help people......

Obviously.

It's more that the new job has loaded a whole load of training and education into my time table and I am determined and obligated to complete that training in a timely manner and it will give me a good basis for productive work. 

I take longer to complete reading and comprehension tasks, like reading policies or doing self directed online learning. Although half the time I think it is simple bone idleness on my part, I do take more frequent breaks and I find more diversion tactics that are synonymous with dyslexia (while it's being mentioned, why is dyslexia so hard to spell?). I'm the worlds greatest avoider of paperwork and book learning. 

It's a common tactic for dyslexics, to find something that either delays having to do a task until it's too late or something that replaces that task. I did it in school like nobodies business, telling convoluted stories or chattering mindlessly to delay written and reading work. 

Work have given me two weeks to do all the work, so I'm in very good hands.

To add to this, I have not discussed the blog with management or given them details and while it's not a work blog, work as you know features heavily, because it's the activity I do the most. There's nothing saying I have to tell work, but to misquote something I read recently: dance like no one is watching but blog like it's going to be read out in a court. For this reason alone, I want management on board, at least tangentially, before I write about the (amazing) support.

Moving on:

The 2nd of April is autism awareness day, so let's talk about that.....

It's old, but lighting up blue is seen as supportive for people with Autism, however Autism Speaks has been attacked as oppressive. I'm including links because I have not had first hand  experience of Autism speaks, mainly because they are American.


In the UK there's a number of charities, and instead of listing them all here, I'm going to add them in as widgets to the site, that way they are easy access.

To any of my international audience, Google is your friend.

Anyway, happy Autism week!

Looking to the future.

I took last week off for holidays, so logically it follows i have an interesting and insightful post for today.

Yeah, funny that.

I'm full of weird emotions about the coming week. I start at 08:30, so it'll be an early start. I'm excited, I'm nervous, it's been a two week break due to this and that.

I'm sure things will take off, I'm sure there'll be more to talk about.

I'll decompress after the first week, and then we'll see shall we?

Here's to the future.

What's that? It's Mother's Day?

Oh, um.....hi Ma!

While dads always been great, I'm under the impression that it was my mother who was the driving force behind my initial dyslexia testing in London, although the school may also have been competent in sending me for testing.

My parents are that traditional team, backing up teachers and caring about my development and education. I'm fairly sure that without their drive, support and arrangement of extra classes, I wouldn't be doing as well as I am, and starting a great new job tomorrow. There tied that up nicely.

Right, it's lovely outside and I have stuff to do......

Reflection.

Right, I can't sleep, so am listening to music and blogging. It might be a little early in the week to be starting this, but by the time it goes up, I'lol have worked my last shift in my current job. That is why this will take a tonal shift halfway through as I sum up feelings (yes, I have them, thanks, I make them up and tell girls I feel them, but I have them) closer to finish.

I don't talk about London, and I won't either but needles to say embarrassing mess comes to mind. One person has read the dismissal report, and I've chatted to some work colleagues about it, select work colleagues who I see out side of work as "friends". Needless to say, it's six years ago now and can be safely skipped with the caveat that it was pre-diagnosis. 

But, as I step forward to a new job, a right future, with managerial blessing and shoving (I think my bosses boss was going to drive me to the interview venue and drop me off until I got interviewed) I need to reflect on the last five and a half years (knobs to London).

First off, my best mate happened to be in nottingham and happened to have a sofa I could sleep on for six weeks. Tell you what, living out of a suitcase while bunking on a sofa with NO MONEY (I used the last amount in my account to drive to Notts, boy cars are featuring heavily lately) gives you some perspective. It took four weeks to find a job, and in hindsight I should have just started working in Tesco or whatever and sucking it up until something I wanted came up. 20/20 and all that bull. 

On the forth of July I got a job I wanted, well mostly, it wasn't in my perfect field but it was related. I busted my yomp there while my GP referred me to Hybury Hospital for intellectual disability assessment. This was where I got formal Aspergers diagnosis and the first "problem" became apparent. I'm too high functioning. "Oh woe is me, I'm too fucking good!" It means I slip through too many cracks, I come off as "normal" (you know my opinion on the idea of normal and if you don't find me someone normal and I'll find you a liar), so when I make a social faux pas People out of the loop fail to understand. It's why I'm open and honest, I'm disabled. I have aspergers, I have CP. This is who I am. I'll play ball, I'll learn to interact but I just need the understanding for when I'm looking murderous because stuffs going wrong. Or I need to work shorter hours because while I love running around, when my legs have melded into a lump of pain and agony, I'm useless and in need to rest. It's why I'm building my career towards a more sedate job, with a desk and a cup of tea.

At this time we'd moved into a small duplex, so i got my own two by four room with a curtain cabled tied to the rail so I lived in an orange twilight. Pre treatment and a bit lost, in a job that was going to destroy me for the next year or so, I began smoking drugs (weed, because I'm such a teenage rebel) and drinking a little too much, you know, beer to wake up with, or I've just come home so an afternoon beer to celebrate. I don't consider myself to have been addicted to either but given that after we moved again  and I couldn't smoke in the house (because I'm not up for freezing my nads off for a smoke) codiene became my drug of choice, or more to the point, cococdamol, so o and a go at my liver with paracetamol. I eventually broke down to my support nurse and she told me cold turkey was the only option and a trip to the GP for blood to check I hadn't ruined my liver (I hadn't so it continues to process the crap I put into it). She counselled me through a very dark and difficult part of my life. Look, I know anonymity on the internet is a lie, but if I'm not frank about this now, four or five years later, when can I be open about what I did to cope. I know drink socially and don't do drugs, but it was hardly a hard core addiction. 

My line of sanity at this time was working on the Trent on a pleasure boat. Volunteering made me free and taught me new skills. This time was full of ups and downs, new diagnosis can make the world seem washed out and empty. Hopes and dreams can be scattered and while the books (the ones I never finished, don't spoil em for me) talk about a feeling of grief and loss, I never really felt that way, just that certain Doors where closed to me now. At the same time I began to strategise a plan to get back into the vine of work I wanted to be in. As it turned out, when that door opened, it was by complete accident and I stumbled ass backwards into it. 

I moved jobs to get away from less than desirable management, and you can't say that didn't teach me a valuable lesson: namely management are more important than salary or work load. Fortunately both of my following jobs have had fantastic management. 

It was aLazy day in my job when I got a text about the job I'm now leaving. Spoke to the agency, and the guy was really good, giving me solid advice on how to broach disabilities in interview (the guy even rang back six weeks or so after I got the job to see how I was doing and a year again after that, now that's dedication). The advice was I straight up told them and they couldn't have cared less, touching on London and why that went to hell ( my true response was WE didn't know, not that THEY, management didn't know). In fairness, my new manager (who hired me while they where in the process where leaving, this lead to years of teasing my new manager that I was the last practical joke played on the workplace), got me a great mentor who backed me and when I got promoted was the sole reason for my colleagues thinking I'd "bloomed".

About six months in, my manager (who hadn't hired me, the poor sod, he was stuck with me) and an experienced bod realised I didn't actually know how to communicate to my colleagues in a professional open manner. Cue intense coaching and training. Recently when I asked for a character reference he included this as a sign of my development, although my favourite bit of that was the description that as a junior manager I was unafraid to "shield colleagues and subordinates from managerial wrath". I believe this comes from the occasional time when I told him he could eat me alive but the team would not suffer for an easily correctable mistake.

But I'm getting ahead of myself a little, because that really brings me up to speed. Just after I got the job, and I can't remember if it was before I started or just after, I contemplated suicide. I genuinely thought about it. I had had a rough road to where I stood. I wondered if this was the best I would be, if there was merit to the idea that after all I had walked, is was success  and to prevent a repeat of London I should just end it, and go out on a high. I had already thought about suicide in my first job in Notts. I only realised during a work life course where the lecturers said that if we'd thought about how to commit it, and come up with a plan then we should seek help. Yep, I had, take myself into the secure chemical room and simply lock myself in with a concoction of unpleasant mixtures to imbibe and hopefully be unreachable before I died. I decided to seek help. My GP recommended religion. Skipped out on that. I don't remember how I got by, but it was probably a lot of sex and drinking.

The Black Dog is something I've been told sits softly behind me, but I never feel it deeply on me. I've thrown away boxes of antidepressants and just got on with it in dark times. And we haven't even hit the tonal shift yet because it s still Monday.

So it's Friday and it's getting to that stage. I'm saying goodbye to staff I won't see over the weekend. I'll be leaving uniforms, badge and swipe behind Sunday night. Then it's time to see if I can step from one job to another. Time will tell.