There is a very fine and uneasy line to toe when one works in mental health and has a mental illness. During the dark days I swore I would never work in that field. In truth I never thought I would work at all. But I was so angry with those who let me down that I raged inanely to no avail other than to prolong my own madness.
Fate and stigma took me down the route I'm on now. Stigma as so many in my chosen profession chose to reject my talents for fear of my madness. I entered the profession by chance at the very bottom and within a week they were trying to get me to change sides.
There has long been a wall, barrier, fence, barbed wire encampment between us and them. Or is it them and us? Pulled in both directions by those who saw me as a colleague and those who saw me as their friend. Some say I betrayed us. Others that I'm too close to them. So who am I?
I have tried to balance atop that great barrier and stay put looking both ways. Yet when I came to the University it was me on my own. I was pulling the trigger that led to people being locked up. I had to champion the needs of many over the one. And that was tough. I jokingly say I finally grew up when I came here. I was a one man CMHT and crisis team rolled into one.
It does not feel good leaning too hard on the side of them. Today I had to do that and feel awful about it. Wielding what little power I have is so unpleasant. Yet I have little choice.
Home now listening to Mozart's String Quintet in C Major the uneasiness hasn't dissipated. I'm not sure it will.
I Heard a Voice.
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