Showing posts with label disability. Show all posts
Showing posts with label disability. Show all posts

Monday, 1 April 2019

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......

Saturday, 21 January 2017

beyond offensive

So, this post did open with a joke about having no prep, and not keeping notes and how I was winging it. Yeah, well, I had just finished the saga the post became and BAM! the app died and lost my entire thing. I won't lie, there was am iPad smashing melt down and I needed a few hours to distract myself. I will try to remember the original content as much as possible but all that springs to mind is some cheap Donald Trump jokes (don't worry, after his treatment of the disabled, they're staying).

Anyway:

Four times a year I work on a camp site. It's a lot of fun, but it also involves long long days, mostly starting at about nine am (or sunrise, if there's a problem) and running right through to about three am. It can be hours of dullness that needs to be filled with self provided entertainment (mostly in the form of taking the piss out of colleagues and eating), interspersed with various odd jobs. It can be stressful, as issues arise and I resist slapping people (its not "customer friendly" apparently), but it is hours of fun. As you might imagine, this can create an environment where Aspy traits can be exacerbated, and expressed in a slightly less than ideal situations, as tiredness and stress are major factors in loss of control.

The boss, Bee, is a skilled people person and has a good knowledge of any and all of my conditions. She often spots the beginnings of melt down, or the effect of tiredness on my ability to interact with customers, and provide a level headed response (without the aforementioned slapping). In these instances, she knows I need to be relieved and sent to my tent for a good nights sleep (I'll be in my bunk is said more times in a day than I care to count, usually to something repulsive). She has come up with a name for this situation, my deterioration and increased need to get away from social situations. That phrase?

"Offensively Aspy"

Hold! Stop. No, do not jump to comments to tell me a blog I've set up to spread awareness about Cerebral Palsy Aspergers is using something you find upsetting. Communication in Aspergers is vital, as many Aspys miss social cues, detest sarcasm and simply can't read between the lines. (I've blogged about communication here). The phrase "offensively Aspy" is a fast, effective, short hand to sum up my current behaviour and is an easy instruction to both myself and the team for what has to happen next (I get to go eat and go to bed). I am, obviously, unaware that things are going badly, so a quick verbal cue gets me out before something goes really wrong and there's fences to mend (or ignore in grumpy ways).

So what happens when I hit peak traits? When there's no Bee to tell me to get to bed? I go completely non-verbal. Total silence. It's as if my jaw clamps shut, the nerves refuse to work and my voice box packs it in. At the same time, my internal voice ramps it up to eleven. I swear its Donald Trump acting like a lobotomised gorilla at a rally (OK, so acting like himself), loud enough for the person next to me to hear it. It's like my own boom box, and it goes right up my nose, because it says everything I wish I could verbalise. Last time it happened, my local shop worker commented that I always put food in for the Food Bank and how sweet I am for it. I COULDN'T PHYSICALLY THANK HER, so I smiled (and thanked her a few days later). I can guess this is how it feels to be non-verbal all the time, and as part of that I find texting valuable (have yet to text anyone "help I can't talk"). It's a basic coping mechanism used in non-verbal but because I have high functioning Aspergers, my verbal skills are generally good (I pass my sarcasm off as dry wit and the British eat it up). It also only lasts until after I've slept, so it's clearly a transient phenomenon (someone told me big words make me look clever).

So, thoughts to ponder.  In silence......

Please follow on Facebook (The Aspy Journey reloaded) and Twitter (@TheAspyJourneyReload) for articles, news, updates about my inability to get the name of the blof right, and stuff.

Yes, I know i said Sunday, but after last weeks schedule issue, I'm putting it up now.....

  

Monday, 26 January 2015

Physio update.

So today was my last day of intense one on one physio. There'll be more, but from now on its gym sessions then a review in a month (for anyone paying attention, tomorrow is my orthotics fitting so the review in a month thing lets the physio see how well I'm doing while having my legs corrected), and then I will be told to join a gym and spread my own little wings and take some responsibility for my own   work outs.

What matters from today's session is the physio retest. I scored 50/56 on "admission", proving I'm not as contractured or disabled as others, and today I scored 56/56. Two months of weekly visits has already made a significant change. Hopefully with more work and the orthotics, things will continue to improve. 

In other news, I rang my local MP to find out more about their stance on the subtle cuts not only in disability support but also in work schemes for the disabled. I've blogged before about not doing unsupported posts, and I plan on reading up about cuts before I go on a gut busying tirade, but if what little I have read is true, then it's deeply worrying. 

Fortunately, my managers  manager told me recently she felt that I was doing "really well" after three months in my new post and my manager by proxy (my own manager got one of those holiday things I hear so much about) told me I was doing "well". I feel I'm doing fair to middling (which I think is a nonsense phrase meaning "it's ok but I'm being modest") but I would rather under estimate myself than get over confident. My own managers recent preformce review of me is so good that I feel it's not a review at all but inspiration to do better again this year. I've said as much and he laughed, which is code for he's caught.

So orthotics tomorrow, in the mean time, enjoy this gem:


Saturday, 17 January 2015

The cost.

Mobile upload time again!

A friend posted on Facebook recently about having to do a test for a learning disability for university exam. So far, so reasonable. Tests allow for measuring support, what adjustments are required and the quantifying of the "severity" of the disability.

The kicker?

They are being asked to pay  £100 for the test.

Paying is nothing new. I'm sure my parents forked out a small fortune to get me tested and reviewed. In university, I'm sure if I'd actually engaged with the disability support service, it would have cost me money (I know, cos I read it in the leaflet). As it so happens, after my teen years, and years of schooling in which I was "labeled" disabled, I decided I wasn't going to engage with disability services. Hindsight is a wonderful thing, and this time around I am engaging and it's fantastic.

But I digest.

After losing my job in London, I had a scheduled test with an educational psychologist. (Better late than never). It cost me £600. A friend gifted it to me.

Given the following events in my life, best £600 I ever spent. It gave me an answer to managers in London, it gave me a road map for the following years and made for an easier life.

But still, it's locked behind a pay wall. I'm assured there are grants and charities that can help but if money is an issue, then gaining support can be hard.

My CP is a medical condition and therefore was covered by the Nhs. Even my orthotics are on the Nhs. (Made locally, so I'm supporting local business.)

Money does make the world turn. Modern gaming involves pay walls. Health care should not be locked behind a pay wall, but sorry, as the new corporate St John Ambulance prove, there's money to be made.

Wednesday, 5 November 2014

Nearly a whole month.

Time flies apparently. It's that dad joke where a man throws his watch out the window to see time fly.

I wanted to wait to post anything until I got my interview results. I got them two weeks ago, and since then I've been saying "I'll do it a little later." And then a little later becomes two weeks.  I can't seem to decide on a topic. Some bloggers have stuff happen to them regularly and some create content through baking or something on a regular basis, but even though my disabilities are with me all the time, I genuinely don't have things to deal with. My work accepts me, my partner accepts me, my dad forgets that I have multiple disabilities, I forget I have multiple disabilities (case in point when I went to the practice nurse for an Asthma check up, she refered me to nuero physio, as the practices new goal is to promote nuero care. First she saw my name on the list and wondered why, then when she spoke to nuero disability on the phone in my presence and listed the various interesting abilities, I genuinely wondered who she was referring to. That reminds me, need to book in to see the gp). 

There are many things I want to blog about, primarily the precieved war on the disabled by the current government. Because I do not need a second bedroom for a carer, and do not recieve any government assistance in the form of benefits, I have not been directly affected by cuts that could be seen as a war. This means that while I could write a blog about unchecked personal opinions and what flashes up on my news feed (not that I'm a paranoid conspiracy theorist but some times I like more than one opinion and view point to inform my life), I think a fact checked, if a little biased, post would do more justice to the blog and maybe actually raise some valid points. Don't get me wrong, I would love to be the first, which I won't be because I am late to the party, to raise a shield to defend those who need it, but it needs to be evidence based. 

In my opinion, something that's apparently dangerous on the internet, there has been a subtle attack on those on benefits, through shows like "Benefits Street" and perhaps even "Jeremy Kyle". Any such reality TV through the key hole type show is bound to pick things that score ratings, either by making us feel superior or by simply trying to raise our choler at where our money might be potentially going. It's the same with shows about benefits frauds and migrants. Yes fair, there will always be cheats and frauds and people coming to steal the things we work hard for but on the whole people are not monsters. But we can be convinced they are. During times of war, governments try to convince us the people in the village over the hill eat their children and sacrifice goats to some abhorrent god. Then as soon as war is over, each side has to convince the other that they are just like each other. 

The easiest example is that militant fighters in Iraq where told US marines had to kill a baby to become a Marine. This shows that life is precious to everyone, if an US citizen was told Muslims have to kill a baby to become a militant, they would be outraged. This is simply the reverse. Watch the dash cams from Russia. They help push cars out of ditches and little old ladies to cross the road, just like anyone in the UK would, but thanks to aggressive policy, we need to see them as the "enemy". 

On a more local level, as Nigel Farage put it, "would you want Romanians to move next door to you?". That is the most awful scare mongering, and my honest answer is "i don't really care". That's an awful lot of people to sweep up in one statement. I know loads of Romanians in work and I would say they are decent nice people. It's a bit like asking the Germans would they like Brits living next door? Well maybe or maybe not. Are they the well educated types who are frightfully polite or are they the louts we get on holidays who steal sun beds (it's a recent poll that Germans believe English to hog sun beds). 

And this brings me back to benefits. Sure theres people on TV who get benefits and smoke six packs a day and don't want to do volunteer work for benefits but are they the majority? If you watch the "cat calling" video from NYC there's no white men in it, and this is explained as bad editing, what the white men said wasn't clear, or off camera, so they didn't make the cut. Equally I bet for any sort of benefits Britain trype reality show, they cut twenty people who are  honest down on their luck people who have just been dealt a bad hand and need a bit of support for the one person who has five different baby daddies and smokes like a cigarette factory on fire which will make people upset (rightly or wrongly). It bumps up TV ratings and like it or not promotes the government line of we need to cut benefits because that's where it goes. 
  

 Mean while, in my own life, things are certainly looking up. I got the job, something I have yet to annouce on anything resembling a "public" forum due to there not being ink on paper yet. This is certainly another step forward, even if it's all gone a bit Game of Thornes with the "you win or you die" type concept about the three month probation.

Living on my own is still a struggle to some degree, and my partner came to help me clean again over the weekend. I should have a clean as you go policy but then I come in late from work or something and I make food and it all goes from there. At the moment however, I appear to have carpet.......

So, my lovely viewers, I shall leave you here while I go and try to research interesting and evidence based post about benefits cuts. Thank you for reading.

Saturday, 27 September 2014

Hidden

Ok, so that last post was a little lacklustre. Mostly caused by a lack of thinking critically (like all of life's problems) and my current ill health, it only skimmed the surface of my control issues and how I both misuse them and switch between various personas and shields to both protect myself and appease others. While that is a topic I will come back to after further thought and examination (and examples), I want to talk a little about how intellectual disability is often hidden, although from my "twice now" post, I can either walk when I am tired or wear my stylish glasses.

Dyslexia, dyspraxia and aspergers are all variously hidden. There's no guide dog acting as my life companion or a wheelchair, which is so synonymous with disability it is used as the national symbol for disabled access or services or parking. Although, reading that last part, a dog life companion sounds fairly awesome.

Before I continue I want to just go off on a slight tangent. I am incredibly lucky. Occasionally I feel that this blog could very well devolve into a whine fest, full of the internet popular "white whine" although, perhaps more a "disabled whine". (Although, maybe disabled wine might sell like those monks booze). I have both natural luck and family luck. The ins and outs of my history doesn't make good reading, but being able to produce a blog at all is a minor miracle, and having escaped one fate, even with caveats of disability, cerbral palsy, dyslexia, dyspraxia and aspergers, I have all four mildly. I am not wheelchair bound (although I will joke that is my destiny), I am variously able to write, read and while I am delightfully uncoordinated, I can drive (who just gave up driving for life?). I do blend in to regular neurotrophical society with remarkable ability. Some of it is self taught, some of it is cultural, a lot of it is excellent parent support, people being very understanding (being given out to for calling myself a retard by colleagues, college professors, partners and others is both hilarious and disappointing). Right after that foreshadowing paragraph, let's continue.

Being able to "hide" helps mostly, I don't suffer perceived discrimination or snide comments. The idea recently that there are levels to every disability certainly applies to me. George Takei, a  man I love not just for his Star Trek fame and roles, but his championing of gay rights and his highlighting of uncomfortable truths about the American WW2 record, was hounded for sharing a meme of a wheelchair user standing to reach alcohol (whether this is right or wrong I will leave to my readers) but it highlighted that disability is not a black or white issue. Anyone with a disability is very capable of doing anything. It is not disability, but this ability. We can do more than we are often credited for. 

This issue is turning into a delightful minefield, you may want to pretend to be a penguin at home.

The story that jumps to mind is one from a text book from my youth. The tale of two ladies who go for coffee every week, and the lady in the wheelchair is talked about, not to, as staff ask the "able bodied" lady "does she take milk?" 

Because I blend, it is when I open my mouth that I give myself away. I have gotten better at this, silence being a safe refuge, or topics of bland yet not weather related subjects. I often find the party trick of when surrounded people you don't know at a party, ask questions and make others talk about themselves, thus making the silent approach acceptable as someone tells you facts about their lives. This lets me soak facts for later use, both with that person and when bored in work I can leave my colleagues baffled.

My ataxia is now beginning to signal something is wrong, and to trained eyes it is a fairly obvious sign of cerbral palsy. I am hoping my exercises will minimise my ataxia and the delightful obviousness of my condition. Still, joking that I shouldn't be allowed make the tea and carry it to the office does tKe the sting out a bit.

Right, that's a solid page for now, plenty to revisit I am sure. Goodnight.