Published on 12, July, 2020
More and more, I'm feeling physically, psychologically and emotionally exhausted with everything. It's a combination of stuff - work stresses, mum's failing health, the lack of support out there (as recommended for me by the psychiatrist who diagnosed my ASC).
Drastic cost-cutting measures at work have led to both an amalgamation and a contraction of services. This means that we're all having to cope with new client groups and a change of working routines. We used to work on a 1-1 basis with clients. But now we've been told we can no longer have additional 'bank' staff, so we have to spread ourselves more thinly and take on extra responsibilities. The pressure to work extra hours is growing. I feel a little cheated, too. They know my caring responsibilities with mum, and that I often need to take time off (as with yesterday) to attend hospital appointments with her. They were very understanding, telling me I could take as many 'emergency domestic' days as I needed. Now, they're telling me that I need to book such days as annual leave instead. With an average of 2 days needed per month, that means I won't have enough annual leave entitlement to cover it and will, at some stage, have to take those days unpaid. A remedy they've suggested - work evenings and weekends to make up the time. Yet they know I can't do those because of my caring responsibilities.
With the extra work pressures now, I often come home exhausted and go to bed early. Or I drink, to relieve the stress and anxiety.
Sometimes, it feels like my life is finally catching up with me - like a tsunami coming in to swamp me and carry me off. I've let go of so much. I used to enjoy healthy eating, exercise, reading. Now, I no longer have the motivation for any of them. I've started to get aches and pains, which I'm sure are psychosomatic.
I'm seeing my GP on Tuesday, though frankly I've no idea what to say to her. She'll most probably suggest anti-depressants, but they've never worked in the past - except to make me feel doped. Driving is a central part of my job, too, and I wouldn't want to risk doing that if I'm on medication. She might also suggest signing me off. To be honest, I'd probably jump at the chance. I feel like I need a break. The problem is, though, that I'd probably not want to go back. Like I said, I enjoy the work. But I feel like my machine's breaking down, and I don't know how much longer I can keep it going.
Maybe this is what happens to so many of us who've been late-diagnosed, and who find ourselves unable to get support for that reason: we've come this far, and somehow survived. But it leaves its mark on us. It's kind of like PTSD - with the trauma being a good part of the lives we've led and the struggles we've had.
I'm also having a carer's assessment at the end of the month. Maybe that'll help. They'll see I'm not coping that well with everything. I'm not sure what they'll suggest, though. If I cut my hours at work to bring me down to an earnings level where I qualify for carer's allowance, that only amounts to £65 a week. It'll make my monthly income less than £800. I can manage on £1,000, but only just. I suppose I'd qualify for Housing Benefit, though. I'll have to investigate.
Sorry... just off-loading. Not looking for sympathy or anything. Days like yesterday, though - and the changes going on at work - make me realise just how tightly-stretched the threads of my life currently are. Something has to give, sooner or later.
lostmyway said:Your brother definately needs to do his bit and give you as much support as he can, Tom. I know he has his own problems but knowing the stress you are going through (does he know?) he really needs to step-up and be a hero.
Your brother definately needs to do his bit and give you as much support as he can, Tom. I know he has his own problems but knowing the stress you are going through (does he know?) he really needs to step-up and be a hero.
Thanks, lmw. He's the exact opposite of me, and he doesn't really get it at all. He knows I've had depressions over the years, including related hospital stays, but it's not something he seems to want to discuss. His way of showing 'understanding' is to say 'Me, too' to everything. 'I've had depressions, too', 'I've been bullied, too', etc. As far as I know, he's had neither. He has a huge social life (including friends he knew at school, 50 years ago), a good marriage, money in the bank. He's always been popular with people, too.
When I got my diagnosis, I sent it to him to read - all 11 pages. I've spoken to him about the problems and issues my condition has caused me. It's like talking to a brick wall. He never asks questions about it. He 'blanks' it whenever autism or mental health is mentioned. To be honest, I think he's influenced a lot by his wife, who's one of those no-nonsense, 'pull yourself together' types. She hates all talk of things like depression. When her daughter had post-natal depression after her last child, it had to be hushed up - like its a weakness, or a blot on the escutcheon. I think their general attitude is that people such as myself just don't try hard enough, and constantly make excuses instead of knuckling down.
I've always been closest to mum - geographically and otherwise. I live a mile away. He lives in the next town. Even so, he can get to her place by car in 10 minutes - not much longer than it takes me to walk. So, most things get left to me. It was the same with dad. He was an alcoholic, so my brother and his wife basically washed their hands of him - another 'weakness'. I did all the running around, finding him suitable care homes, visiting him regularly, etc. Not for kudos - but because it's what I wanted to do. Same as with mum. She was very anxious this morning, saying 'It's not fair that all of this is on your shoulders'. Well... at least I'm in a better position at the moment to do things. He's off on holiday - one of their three holidays a year. They've just bought a camper van. They've paid off their mortgage. They both have good incomes. Yet they're always pleading poverty! Isn't it always the way? (When I mentioned to him a few weeks ago that I get by on less that £12k a year, you know what his response was? 'I wish I earned as much as that'! Mind you, he shut up when I reminded him that he has a working spouse, and that he'd paid off his mortgage.)
Actually, I think his wife's illness may just serve to wake him up a bit. We'll see.