Rachael Bletchly: In the middle of a pandemic we need to address mental health
With my windows open in the warm weather, I’ve been waking to a glorious dawn chorus.
Sitting with a cuppa in the garden I’m starting to pick out the sparrows from the robins and the tits from the chattering parakeets.
And as the birdsong seems to amplify every day I feel I’m growing calmer.
Perhaps I can only hear them because my noisy London neighbourhood has gone corona quiet – with fewer cars on the busy road and no planes overhead.
Or maybe my noisy thoughts just deafened me to their twittering. I’ve always had a “buzzy” brain but occasionally it feels like I can’t think for interference.
It’s when I’m heading for a depressive episode, one of several I’ve suffered since a nervous breakdown 16 years ago. Thankfully, with medical help and counselling, I am now much better at spotting the warning signals.
And I know I need to take a break until the scary white noise in my head dies away. Yet, even now, the hardest part is admitting that – to myself and to the family, friends and colleagues who can help me through.
I feel weak, pathetic, and ashamed. I don’t want to burden them again.
But until I’ve said: “I’m struggling to cope” I can’t start dialling down the noise.
That’s how I felt three weeks ago when I spoke to my line manager at work.
It’s why I took a bit of time off and why Anne ...
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