Voices in my head

It’s funny how things go, isn’t it? One minute, I’m in a nice little part time job and the next I’m not in one. No, I haven’t been sacked, if that’s what you’re wondering. I’ve left of my own accord, with the full understanding that – how shall I put this? – there was a part of my job description which was so far to the back of my mind I never thought it would become relevant. But it did, right out of a clear blue sky, and soon I will be unemployed, though not unemployed enough to appear on the official jobless figures which excludes many, many people to the point that the headline figures are utterly meaningless.

At least this time, I don’t have a grudge to bear against my latest former employer. I wasn’t subject to abuse and bullying, as I was at the British Red Cross. Hopefully, I’ll soon get over it. Although today I feel like shit.

Predictably, my black dog chose this moment to dash back into my life, bringing with him angry voices in my head which cry, “we hate you, we hate you”. When I was lying awake at stupid o clock this morning, unable to get back to sleep, I could see them, too, but they had no features on their faces. They just chanted. I know them. I have met them before and they come back at moments of failure to remind me how I am hated by whoever they are. As I am writing this blog, I can hear them. They know when I am at my lowest ebb and they take glory in my misery. Absolute bastards, they are.

Having spent the first 39 years of my working life in the civil service, the very different mindset of business still comes as a surprise. This is not a specific reference to any of the employers I have had since I finished in the public sector. In the civil service, there was so much pastoral care and support when things weren’t going along all tickety-boo in my life. There were systems in place, genuine caring for staff, and an understanding that workers needed support from within if they were to provide good quality services. My experiences since are that, by and large, all that matters is the bottom line. If you don’t like the way things are, go somewhere else and do something else. Not a whinge or a whine, not even a complaint. That’s just the way it is. Some things will never change. I got used to it and accepted it. And it has nothing to do with the way I feel today.

So, the fightback begins today. In the absence of meaningful mental health support from the NHS, it’s a case of mental person heal thyself. Christ alone knows how I am going to do that, but there is no alternative.

I still want a little job where I can help people, make their lives better and, in a roundabout way, make mine better, too. Once one door closes another one slams shut in your face.

Since I started in the care sector, which is in effect a business, I have found I have a knack for helping people and getting them to do stuff they never thought they could do. And more than that, there are thousands, maybe even millions, of people who could do with a lift, a kind of DIY SOS of the head.

I can’t work for nothing because nothing doesn’t pay for the things I love in life, like music, books and going to nice places. I think I’m very good at what I do, but sadly that’s clearly not a view shared by everyone. And for now, things have gone all Pete Tong. Things can only get better? Maybe, but who knows? I certainly don’t. The voices in my head have a good idea.