It's been a while since I've been here but I am okay. I am still adjusting to being back at work but, most importantly, I am happy. For the first time in my life I've accepted myself, bad and the good, and I realise that without the crap I went through both as a kid and an adult then I wouldn't have been as awesome at my job as I was. And I was, I was fucking awesome at what I did. But it all got too much and I had to walk away.
Articles from Harrangue Man
Thanks to going nuts I have a new found lease on life. I've accepted my body—in all its sordid hairy glory—and that my service to date has been exceptional. Go energised me!In my last mental health check up I rated a zero on the depression score. Zero. As in no depression. Yes, I am still on a fuck-load of medication and yes I still have anxiety and stress pain, but I am not sad.
I've had a near mental health fall this week as my return to work continues apace. Oldwork sent an email to home and to work to finalise my journey with them, a last gasping breath of what they could do to me. They were supposed to never contact me again but, well, they did.theWife stepped in to resolve it away from our email. The correspondence was designed to wound, and the fact that design was there was not unexpected.
With thanks to The Simpons!The work of yesterday, having to actively set block settings on the instant message system for people from oldwork that caused me pain, has caused me pain. Yes, the dreaded post oldwork touch but 24 hours later manifest blues; nasty shards of fibro pain crackling through my shoulders. The shards come, and they hurt on arrival, but not at the same power or as often as before.
My work return is progressing well, though there have been bumps. Oldwork still haven't taken over accounts from my old role and thus I get a reminder each day when I manually switch off access. In my time away my workplace got a new tool, an instant message system. However because oldwork people's names blared the moment my work window opened I told the program not to load.
So it is done and dusted and the Prime Minister will now be Tony Abbott. In addition to him a whole host of science denialists and rusted-on right wingers. Probs wept. It may be the still doubled medication I am on Vs depression and pain but I was remarkably Zen about the election. It was a foregone conclusion and the result came out as expected.
The line at the local school was long, allowing how-to-vote-card profferers multiple attempts at seducing you with their papery wares. I kept my headphones on and eyes downcast as I listed to The Who on my recovered Mp3 player. I checked that my drawing a cartoon or writing a message on the ballot wouldn't invalidate it then strut forth to the voting booth.
With thanks to Monty PythonI've had two cry-cry days. The first was being on the boil after spending newwork time reading about performance management and suddenly worrying I was wrong and oldwork were right; that they were right to bully me and threaten me with performance management in the initial stages of my collapse then time away.