Once again, I’ll say that the blog which follows is not a cry for pity or sympathy. And there’s no need for anyone to say so on social media. Thanks. x
For reasons that shall remain private, my blog of 27th June 2022, An Open Letter To Sajid Javid, made its way to the MP for Bromsgrove and his office has actually replied. Just my luck, then, that he resigned from his position as Health Secretary before he could do anything about it. Still, it’s been sent to the new Health Secretary, Steve Barclay, who will doubtless be on the case and sorting me out within seconds. That’s just as well because the latest news isn’t great.
What’s the old saying? “When one door closes, another slams in your face” and that’s what happened today.
Having spoken to – you never get to see – yet another GP, I was referred to a couple of organisations regarding my more than likely and previously undiagnosed ADHD. Enthusiastically, off I wrote and within hours I received a very courteous reply saying I was too old to be assessed. The next one was the Bristol Adult ADHD support group. Basically, you don’t need to have a diagnosis but you can go along and meet fellow ADHD-ers. I’ll try anything once, so I started searching and almost immediately I found the magic words: Covid-19 has forced the cancellation of Bristol Adult ADHD Support Group meetings until further notice. We are very, very sorry we have had to make this decision. We will update this page with the date and times of support group meetings when it is safe to reopen. This was dated 17th July 2021 and it appears this still applies. So, the upshot is at the moment I’m too old to get any help and there’s no one locally who can give me support. Well, great. My GP couldn’t possibly have known this stuff unless he had actually clicked on the links he sent me.
The good news is that I have completed a short questionnaire to give some indication as to whether I have been suffering from PTSD and a much longer one to confirm my depression diagnosis which instantly came back with ‘SEVERE’. It’s good to have it confirmed that I’m still at least halfway round the twist.
I’ve indicated before in this pool of self-pity that I am pretty well at the point where I can’t be bothered to keep going. I know this mental health malarkey will never truly go away and I have been making plans to deal with it myself. I am the fool who cannot suffer normal people gladly. I’ve completed a new Facebook cull – if you aren’t seeing my posts and comments anymore, that’s why – and the relationships I’ve broken or those who broken relationships with me are going to stay broken. Breaking up is hard to do, for sure, but kissing and making up again when there is a fair chance it will happen all over again is something I no longer want to do. I can’t make myself better but at least I can do something very small to stop making one small aspect worse.
It’s been a very tough week where I have found it almost impossible to do anything. I’ve been here before and I’ll be here again, assuming I don’t die first. Actually, I’m not assuming anything. My desire to live on is still more powerful than my desire not to and that speeding train is still something I want to watch and wonder at rather than stand in front of.
The only good thing about growing old is that it beats the alternative. If that’s not positive thinking, what is?
