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.
