Even though today was pretty good, I have to admit that right now, I’m not in a great place, but let’s get back to that in a minute.

First day back at work after the new pacing plan was put in to effect. I did have a horrible night last night but, crucially, I actually managed to get to work on time, and be pretty productive.

I didn’t get tired at 2, or 3, or even 4 today. Managed to finish off a few bits and pieces of work. Ate a bit; then started optimising a few things because heck, there wasn’t really that much else on my plate at that point in time.

At about 5:30 I left the office for home, in the semi-darkness that this time of year brings. First thing I do, naturally, is check my post.

Two letters; one from Ealing Council, and one unmarked. I was hoping the Ealing Council letter would be the final conclusion to the old flat (I still need to pay council tax for a month, and can’t seem to do so for some silly reason…) – But no, that was just a letter informing me that “Hey, we haven’t raised your council tax” – Fine, whatever…

On to the unmarked letter. And this is where things start getting hairy for me.

Oh yeah… Conversion Disorder… There it is, that nagging sense that the person who wrote this is reading from an utterly outdated script on what’s acceptable for them and what’s not; what’s “too ill” and what’s “just right”.

I referred myself to IAPT because fuck, my mood is going down the drain because I can’t do the things I want to any more. Or well, at least not in the way that I’m used to. All I wanted was someone to help me cope with it. Instead, I get this.

This load of bullshit on how I’m “too mentally ill” (At least that’s the subtext I’m getting here…) for them to offer me any support.

The whole reason for why I referred myself to IAPT was because they SPECIFICALLY offer help in dealing with a disability, and staying at work in spite of it.

Yet this person, decided that because I mentioned the frequently used (and misused / outdated) alternative name for my condition, they cannot help me.

“Also, oh yeah, we realise of course that you’re also waiting for the GIC, and oh I can see in my system that you’re already under a mental health team, please liaise with them”.

Well if it was so fucking easy, don’t you think I would’ve done that already? I didn’t even know I had a “Care-coordinator”. And oh by the way, I haven’t seen them yet, and apparently won’t until the 11th of May.

Also, the care I received through “secondary care mental health services” was while I was in hospital, falling apart at the seams because of what was happening to me. Yet none of them actually found my mental health to be the cause of my problems / symptoms.

 

I’m tired.

Tired of being treated like the proverbial hot potato that gets chucked around the medical community for not fitting in to one box.

And now I’m really starting to freak out, because I know there are so many other people out there that have been at this for way longer than I have.

Real people with real problems that needed help, but never got it because someone stamped “unsolvable – do not touch” on to a piece of magical diagnostic paper somewhere.

FND is not a mental illness, and I need to say that because a lot of people think it is; even in the medical community. And thus, we’re told to seek help through psychological or psychiatric services, with the goal of “fixing” our symptoms.

Reality check: The biomarkers to suggest that this is the case are not present, for a lot of us. Me and myself included (Hah, see what I did there?).

Because of this inherent stigma that is attached to our diagnosis, even the most basic of help is denied. Because to them, we’re a “complex case” that needs specialist equipment and training to be treated. We’re not people to them, and THAT pisses me off.

Keep in mind, I’m not trying to say that mental illnesses aren’t real (And this apparently needs to be said every time someone touches the subject), I know this, I have mental health issues myself, but FND is NOT one of them!