Going Out to Work

At the beginning of this year, the one question on everyone's mind was, would Julie manage to start her new job?

She had interviewed successfully for the post just days before she became seriously ill.  Then she had to spend the whole of the next month in hospital and came out looking very shaky.  As the start date of the new job approached, it was touch and go whether she would be fit enough to take it up.

This is not Julie's first job, but the other jobs were often more casual, with negotiable hours, and no fixed location.  This is the first job where she has to get up early to catch a bus, the first job where she has to work a fixed shift, and the first job where other people are reliant on her.  Going out to work was something Julie wanted to do so much, but the barriers are high: she is afraid of letting everyone down, her drugs make her tired and unfocussed, she feels overwhelmed by new environments.

But she made it. The first few days were tough, but her new colleagues were welcoming, her manager fantastically supportive - she soon began to get the hang of things.  I keep her freezer full of good nutritious meals, and she spends a night or two with us every week.  She's now well into the second month, starting to feel like an old hand, and managing some social life on her days off.

Working is really good for her.  Financially it's hardly worth the effort - frankly, it would be a lot easier to stay at home and claim benefits.  But getting out, doing a normal job of work, meeting people, belonging and contributing - it does more good than any psychiatrist could ever do.

It's not going to be plain sailing all the way.  She's still only working part-time; her goal is to work up to full-time.  I expect there will be times in the future when we'll be wondering if she's going to keep going.  But she has got this far, and I'm so proud of her.