The Crash (Part 3)

Oh Jesus. An institution.

All I saw at the end of our 240 mile journey to the other end of the country, was a long anonymous grey block of concrete, low level buildings. The Priory, it certainly wasn't.

“This is not going to work,” I thought, as we waited in the reception area, too tired to speak. 

We listened mutely as a departing member of staff chatted away in pidgin English at a receptionist framed behind a glass panel.

We could have been extra-terrestrials for all the notice that was being taken.

A man in white overalls finally came to meet us, with a beaming smile. Even in my insanity, it struck me as incongruous in the extreme.

Not appropriate, mate. Nothing to grin about.

The coup de gras - sacked while recovering from suicide attempt

WOMAN No 2 (my employer) sacked me by email while I was recovering from my suicide attempt on the mental health unit. 

It was no real shock - it had been coming since April.

I had been signed off work in March with 'poorly controlled diabetes, stress and exhaustion'.

Picture the scene: a Saturday evening, I was cooking dinner for Sarah (Woman No 1) and me, in the first weekend off I had that year.

Texts start coming in from employer. Sarah paces the kitchen: "How dare she do this on your first weekend off?" she protested. Again and again.

I was under pressure, personally, professionally and with my uncontrolled diabetes.

Two weeks later my employer decided to bring disciplinary proceedings against me.