The Summons

The letter arrived at the weekend, the dreaded summons for an occupational health assessment. 

It isn’t even in a morning.  I will have until 3.30 in the afternoon to worry about it.  By that time, subject to a miracle I will be in such a state of anxiety that I won’t be able to get a sentence out with the words in the right order, I will be hideously sweaty, I will need a toilet very close at hand and my blood pressure, should they decide to take it, will be through the roof.

That cliff edge I talked about – the one where I was waiting to be pushed.  Well, the hand is now applying steady pressure to my back.

I know they are not allowed to discriminate on the basis of a diagnostic label – but what if they do?  What if they want to check my blood pressure or take a blood test and ask me to roll up the sleeve on my left arm.  It does not look good at the moment, with recent cuts as well as old scars.  You can’t begin to imagine how much I hate her (private self).  She is so pathetic.  How can I explain that the BPD / private self is separate to my professional self and social self.  I know that sounds mad.  I can’t talk about myself in three persons at an occupational health assessment, they’ll think I have trinitarian delusions or something silly. 

What should I do?  Do I risk the fall and the ensuing devastation if they do push me over the cliff with a rejection?  Do I withdraw from the job offer?  Do I use lots of beta blockers and blag my way through the appointment? 

It’s typical isn’t it – the time I really could do with some help to start trying to use DBT in a real situation, where I am very vulnerable and anxious - it coincides with Joy being on holiday for two weeks.