{"id":183,"date":"2018-11-25T21:04:45","date_gmt":"2018-11-25T21:04:45","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.rollingwith.me\/wordpress\/?p=183"},"modified":"2020-07-06T11:48:08","modified_gmt":"2020-07-06T10:48:08","slug":"psychology-of-disability-part-one","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.rollingwith.me\/wordpress\/psychology-of-disability-part-one\/","title":{"rendered":"Psychology of Disability (part one)"},"content":{"rendered":"

I\u2019ve often thought about \u2018The Psychology of Disability<\/strong>\u2018, in particular, how to cope with the mental impacts of acquiring a disability. It\u2019s come up a few times in the last week. What I really don\u2019t know is how to distill it down from a subject that could fill a book, to a five minute read on a blog? To try and keep it manageable (and hopefully interesting!) this will be a \u2018two part\u2019 blog. Part one will be a bit about more personal, some of the things I did, that worked for me. Part two, next week, will be some observations about others.<\/span><\/p>\n

As a psychiatric nurse (\u2018Registered Mental Nurse\u2019) the mental health side of disability interests me. I genuinely believe that people who acquire a disability should automatically be offered a referral to mental health support. Sadly of course, with mental health services stretched & underfunded, the last thing they need is to go looking for additional work! <\/span><\/p>\n

When I was in rehab after acquiring my disability, psychological support was provided. On arrival at the unit, I had a chat with my psychologist and we agreed that I would recognise if & when I required her support and would come to her, rather than having formal structured sessions. Most of the time, I managed myself, finding ways to keep on track and motivated & focussed on my rehabilitation, while accepting my disability. However on one occasion, after a pretty major disagreement with the care team, I was left feeling angry, frustrated and upset. I went to Sam\u2019s office. She was eating her lunch. I said I\u2019d come back later, but she put her food to one side and told me to come in. I said to her, \u201cactually, you can carry on eating, I just need to vent<\/i>\u201d. I asked her if she was okay with the occasional swear word? Obviously she was, so I just growled and grumped, with liberal use of the \u2018F-word\u2019. Sam just sat there, consuming her home prepared salad from a Tupperware box. Eventually I ran out of energy. Sam asked me if there was anything she could do for me? I said \u2018no<\/i>\u2018, then apologised for interrupting her lunch and left. I didn\u2019t need anything \u2018doing\u2019, I simply needed someone to listen. Having had a rant, I was okay to carry on with the rehab sessions in the afternoon. <\/span><\/p>\n

One \u2018trick of the mind\u2019 that I worked out quite early on was how to answer a simple question\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHow are you?<\/i>\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

On most occasions, this is simply an informal greeting, people don\u2019t actually want to know how you are, it is just another way of saying \u2018hello\u2019. But when you are in hospital, your visitors and professionals are generally asking you, wanting more information. In the very early days, someone asking \u201chow are you?<\/i>\u201d instantly had me thinking back a week or so, to when I\u2019d walked in to hospital for what was billed as a routine operation. In my head, the answer was therefore \u201ca bit shit really<\/i>\u201d, regardless of the words that my mouth produced. Thinking that way would drag me down psychologically. I recognised that I would never return to the position I had been in prior to the operation, so for the rest of my life, the answer would only ever be \u201ca bit shit really<\/i>\u201d.<\/span><\/p>\n

I decided I needed to reframe the reference in my own mind. Whenever someone asked me \u2018how are you?<\/i>\u2018 I consciously brought to mind my first physiotherapy session after becoming disabled. I had to pull myself up using the bed-rails. I then leant down to push my dead-weight legs off the side, before shuffling my body around ninety degrees, until I was sitting on the edge. I had a physiotherapist and his assistant there, supporting me, otherwise I would have gone headlong off the bed. Having steadied me, I then had to lay back down, hauling my legs back up and straightening my damaged body out. I did that twice in forty-five minutes and I was sweating. From being able to walk miles with my dogs literally a week earlier, I was now exhausted by sitting on the edge of the bed. <\/span><\/p>\n

When we finished, the physio said \u201cdon\u2019t worry, we\u2019ll get you walking again<\/i>\u201d.<\/span><\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t believe him.<\/span><\/p>\n

That was the lowest of the low. In order to reframe the question, when people asked me how I was, I instantly pulled in to my mind that first physiotherapy session and how exhausting it was. I could then begin answering \u201cI\u2019m doing really well<\/i>\u201d. For many months after becoming disabled, well after finishing rehab and returning home, I still thought about that session when people asked me how I was doing. One thing I didn\u2019t appreciate at the time was how this answer freaked other people out! They thought I was in denial or shock, or lying or trying to be strong. In reality, I\u2019d simply changed the way I viewed the question. <\/span><\/p>\n

One of the things that got me through was music, in particular a couple of specific tracks, that had lyrics that really resonated. The first one was Noah & the Whale\u2019s L.I.F.E.G.O.E.S.O.N. I\u2019d wake up in the morning and put this on the headphones, blasting it out, sometimes two or three times in quick succession.<\/span><\/p>\n