I have spent quite a long time thinking about how to write this, but I don’t think there is an easy way. I am a very broken person. Not quite as broken as Latent Existence or Dannilion but broken in my own ways.
Today I spent most of the day in bed, I woke up at 9pm and ate pizza, yoghurt and chocolate. Since then, at least once an hour I have had to make trips to the toilet which resulted basically in water emerging from my rear end. This happens most days, because my pancreas cannot deal with fats that I ingest. Why should I change what I eat just because my body is broken? I certainly don’t have enough patience to maintain some kind of avoidance diet or spend hours reading packaging in supermarkets. Then there is the cost of special diets.
Also as a result of damage to my pancreas, I have diabetes. I wear an insulin pump, but I still have to tell it what I have eaten, test my blood sugar and change the sets every few days. I am currently performing at the level of being able to do one of these activities.
I try to be a happy person, I really do, I consider myself to be amusing. But realistically I cannot maintain this outward persona. As I said in my last post I was given a new post at work, a pay rise etc. I should have been so happy, and I was until I realised that: 1. Actually I had taken a pay cut, because I have lost most of the assistance I was getting from the government and 2. They were going to leave me with a skeleton staff, of which I am being relied upon as the most knowledgeable and “lead” person.
I have never dealt well with promotion or responsibility, I have not sought it out, but some how because I “wowed” someone, they thought I could deal with everything. I often think that the best job for me, would be the one with the least amount of responsibility, because then when my brain decides it’s had enough, as it usually does, then I am not really causing anyone problems by disappearing back into the mist that I arrived from.
Except this time, I am supposed to be “the one”, despite all my broken-ness and depression, I must come into work every day and perform to a high level, complete all the tasks set for me that week and answer phone calls and tickets with routine technical support enquiries. I cannot do this any more. It is not that I am bored, or have lost interest, I have genuinely lost my ability to cope with what I am being asked to do.
But, I cannot take sick leave – or I will not get paid and I cannot just quit and go back to the world of Welfare, because that world isn’t really there any more. I know after a few weeks of claiming ESA, I will be expected to fill in the dreaded ESA50, followed by the Work Capability Assessment, which will ultimately say that I am capable of picking a pencil up off the floor, so I am capable of working.
I have had enough, I have spent 17 years doing this, back and forth between work and benefits. Hoping that maybe one day I will find a job where I can do what is asked of me and live comfortably. But now I realise that is a fantasy, despite laws to the contrary that are supposed to protect people with disabilities, no-one really wants to help me, or in fact could offer me the right help to get past my struggles and onto something resembling “normality”.
My greatest regret is that my kittens, having just about settled down will face more upheaval and have to find another human they can trust.
I am not going to tell you what or when I am going to do anything, because I know people will just send the police after me, I realise you care about me, but neither they, nor mental health professionals can help me. They will listen to my story, find it to be far too matter of fact and basically tell me to just get on with it. This is the reality and any of you cared, you wouldn’t bother with me, you would just find someone who can look after my kittens.