Realisations

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I've been looking for reasons for why my anxiety has got worse recently. I think one reason is simply that my depression hasn't been under control since September 2007, and anxiety has always gone hand in hand with depression for me. Another reason directly relates to Mr Man. Although he has suffered occasional blips, Mr Man has been doing really well since his medication change last summer, and yes, that has been a cause of anxiety for me. He's doing so well that he is eager to start working again and wants to run his own business from home, but I am aware that his condition can change at any time - as it did a couple of weeks ago - and when it does I have to be ready to support him. Supporting him emotionally is one thing, but supporting him in running his business is something else. As much as I would like to help Mr Man run his business, I just can't cope with that sort of responsibility. Hell, I can't even cope with opening the post every day, and half of that is junk mail.

Another reason why his recovery scares me is that ultimately he would like to be able to cease claiming benefits altogether. I worry that the pressure of having to work once his benefits stop will make him poorly again. Maybe if he had been consistently well since last summer I wouldn't worry so much, but although generally he is much better, I have seen a lot of fluctuations during that time. He goes from being very focused with lots of business ideas, to burning himself out and feeling under pressure. I'm just not sure if he is ready for this sort of commitment, and yet I have to let him try because it's what he really wants to do. He has an appointment coming up to see someone at Working Links, so it will be interesting to see what sort of support they can offer him, if any. Of course, any changes in income will mean changes in housing benefit etc. and I'll be the one who has to keep filling in the forms and taking bank statements to the council.

I want to see him work because I want to see him happy. I know that he feels ashamed that he's not able to work. But it's just such a huge step. Maybe all of this has been worrying me more than I realised.

Oh Crap

Am I allowed to say that? I mean, I know some people are offended by the word, but although Thomas Crapper didn't actually invent the flushing toilet, he was a plumber and he did make toilets and invented the floating ballcock. So that's probably how toilets came to be known as "the crapper", although it's believed the word "crap" was in use before he was even born, and that the fact that he made toilets for a living was an example of "nominative determinism" whereby a person is more likely to do a job connected to their name. I think it's a load of old ballcock myself - I mean, what kid being laughed at in the playground for having a name that basically means "poo" is going to think to himself "I'll show 'em. I'm gonna do a job connected with poo when I grow up". Nah, I don't buy it.

So, if you're offended I apologise.

But anyway, before I completely forget the point of my post - I've just discovered that my "mrmanswife" email address hasn't been working since February. So if you have tried to email me and haven't received a reply I apologise, although to be fair, I'm rubbish at keeping up to date with emails anyway.

This will explain why Seaneen was contacted by Radio 4 to have her blog turned into a radio drama and not me! They couldn't get hold of me! (yeah right) A big big congratulations to Seaneen! And make sure you're all listening to Radio 4 on Friday 8th May at 2.15pm.


I'll try to get Mr Man to sort my email address out for me as soon as possible.

Not Fine

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Yesterday Mr Man was "not fine". He was very ill in fact. He was banging his head on his pillow in an effort to get the voices to stop. He didn't even hear me talking to him and seemed unaware of my presence until I put my arm around him. He told me he had to get on with his "work" again, and he had to mark himself with his number - 4064. I was worried that he was going to carve it into his arm with a knife or something. Later he got out "the folder". The folder has paper in it, and that is where he writes his "codes" and things like that - "work" that the voices have given him to do. He hasn't got the folder out since 2004. I couldn't believe his symptoms had deteriorated so much in such a short space of time, but I knew what the trigger was - we were supposed to be going out that evening to commemorate the death of Christ, and he was very anxious about it. Needless to say, we didn't go.

Mr Man is still unwell today, but much better than yesterday, and typically he doesn't remember much of yesterday. I say "typically" because it is quite common for Mr Man to be unable to remember periods when he has been acutely ill. He's been a little unwell for a while now though. Just a couple of weeks ago he spoke to his Occupational Therapist about how he was feeling. She was concerned enough to start visiting him every couple of days, and she even gave him her mobile phone number in case of a crisis, but he didn't want to talk to me about how he was feeling. I didn't mind; I understood that he doesn't like me to worry about him, and to be honest I was just glad that he was talking to someone instead of keeping it all to himself.

"Outside My Window" by Philippa King