Chapter 2: Fixing the break...

"Nothing is absolute. Everything changes, everything moves, everything revolves, everything flies and goes away."

I look back towards the beginning of February now and it seems so, so far away. I honestly can't believe how far I've come in a relatively short space of time. It helps that I'm incredibly stubborn and I've been supported by the best people out there, but I knew it was my time. As the 'breadwinner' of the house, time was not on my side - a factor that added to the stress in many ways, and was a massive contributory incentive to picking myself up and listening to my mind.

I'm not a stranger to poor mental health. I have suffered from anxiety previously and have supported some very important and special people through the worst times in their lives (family and students!). I've also had the opportunity to experience the worst emotional pain I never knew was possible - overwhelming grief when I lost my dad.

I think that this has been the most pivotal part of my recovery. My wonderful Dad passed away too young. It was during the pandemic (not of Covid) and, being one of the parents with whom I have inherited my 'stubbornism', he missed his opportunity to put himself right when he knew he wasn't well. I don't think I'll ever forgive him for doing 'the man thing', but I know I owe it to him not to do the same to myself. 

I was, am, and always will be a 'Daddy's girl'. Not that my wonderful, if not highly eccentric mother isn't a top-notch parent, but my Dad 'got me'. He always knew exactly what to say - he was my verification for me being me; the attribute that I grieved the most. He was my champion and his absence in my life, especially around times like recently, have weighed more than I thought possible. What would he have told me to do at this point? He'd have put his happiness first. So, the day I walked out of my school for the last time (the day of the ugly crying and dark thoughts), I knew - it was time for this chapter of my life to fly and go away. 

I am so lucky that I had the best people around me. My wonderful work family (so much more than colleagues), had seen the cracks appear. As much as the whole day was a blur now, I do remember hearing "please take some time", "this isn't you", "you are loved". And finally - "go to the doctor". Without them and their loving affirmation, I don't think I would have made it home with the acceptance that I was quite as poorly and that I needed to get better. I got home to very special friends who came round, brought me the cats, made me cups of tea, cleaned my kitchen and were just present whilst I sat and processed in silence until the husband got home. 

The next day I took myself to the doctors. She was amazing - listened, understood and treated me with compassion. I was signed off, given a prescription for some antidepressants and referred to the NHS counselling services. I told school, who told me that I was not to think about work in any way. I've read so many things in the past about schools not being supportive, but am so blessed that mine were nothing but amazing. I honestly cannot fault them. They redirected my emails, changed Microsoft Teams chats and made it very clear there was nothing of my concern every time I tried to 'interfere'. To feel loved is the best start to any recovery, and I will be forever grateful for those that gave me the space I needed. More so than I think they will ever know. To be able to turn off completely from the thing that impacts you the most is invaluable. I don't think that I would have come so far so soon without them. They know who they are, and I hope they know how much gratitude and love I send back their way.

Baz and I then walked and talked. We decided that I needed to put myself first before I made any life altering decisions.

I don't think it is really understood what is involved with being a SENDCo. I don't even think many school leaders fully appreciate the enormity of the role and what the job actually entails. It encompasses your every being! You can never get to the bottom of a to-do list, or please everybody, or have time to wee. You go into the job because you care, and have the constant daily battle of which family to prioritise and whether you will support the dysregulated child or finish the paperwork on time. The legal obligations and the ramifications if you don't are enough to get a school into huge bother! Meaning your precious time is constantly robbed from you. I hadn't focused on me for a while and my body was suffering as well as my mind. I knew that needed to be the first fix.

So, back to walking, running, fresh air, singing and performing - doing the things that make me, me.  I also knew I had to start listening to my body again. The first week I had off, I slept a lot! My body was as physically exhausted as my mind. I learnt from riding the grief train that you have to go with the feelings when you get them, so I let myself feel. If I needed to cry, I cried. If I needed to talk, I talked. I had some singing lessons with my mum and set myself some challenges, I got cast as Edith in 'Allo Allo'. The arts have always been my passion. I don't think you can put a price on performing to up your wellbeing - being someone else is a perfect way of escaping reality. I played the piano. I listened to music, and leant on the songs that pushed my brain into positivity - even my 'funeral songs' (playlist available). Again, I was struck by the family and friends who noticed I wasn't ok and made time for me. Took me for walks, sent me messages, regularly checked in. Again, they know who they are and I will never be able to thank them enough.

After a few weeks I started to feel better. Although, I was incredibly sceptical about medication at first, but I woke up one morning and remember being surprised that I felt 'happy' - which I hadn't felt in a while. I knew I could now start to think logically.

 I've always been an incredibly proud person who has very much insisted that if I need help, I will ask for it. As much as I pushed the feelings back for so long, letting go and letting people in was the first step I needed.

I think back to my Dad. When he died, my sister and I found a book of quotes that he kept. In it was this from Douglas Kennedy's 'Pursuit of Happiness'.

"That's the thing about parents, they may physically vanish from your life - you may not even have known them - but you're never free of them. That's their ultimate legacy to you - the fact that, like it or not, they're always there. A no matter how hard you try to shake them, they never let go".

He hasn't let go. The bit of him that lives inside me has given me the push and positivity to get better and get living - life is too short to be unhappy. I know he'd be excited for my next chapter and would want to know all about it. I think he'd be proud of me. I just wish he was here to see me thrive.