I can and have sat down with colleagues for an hour, then single handedly turned their vague idea into a multi million pound successful bid, with milestones, deliverables, outputs, costings, business case and cash flow.
I spent most of my twenties hideously in debt because I didn’t understand credit cards and hid my own post from myself.
I studied and researched the legislative processes, guidelines and procedures for access arrangements between estranged parents (subset domestic abuse cases) and guided my sister through a two year court process, including writing highly professional, yet quietly and calmly threatening letters and negotiating satisfactory rates with a solicitor and appearing in court.
I also appeared in court in Worcester, after my local police sent an officer round with an arrest warrant for me as I had failed to respond to a series of letters about a speeding violation (46 in a 40!) because it all all too terrifying and difficult, so I’d hidden the post.
Most days for my adult life (apart from the bit where I was in detox) I have got up, dressed appropriately, gone into an office, smiled at colleagues, switched on a computer and produced strategy documents, bids, plans, briefings and at one point responses to MPs letters.
Most days of my adult life I stand in front of the dressing table after a shower and concentrate really hard on what comes next before dressing (mosituriser, underwear). Then make up. Sometimes I can stand stock still in the living room for several minutes, as I am trying to mentally checklist what I need for the day and it just doesn’t happen.
I’ve written two fundraising plans for two separate charities, showing desired breakdown of income (public, private, fundraising, gifts, alumni, Trusts, tenders) and an annual business process for maximising income.
When I lived alone I ate the same meal every night I bothered to cook (other times it was coco pops, lovely cocopops) because I don’t have the mental wherewithall to think through food variety and prefer to follow simple, familiar steps. My boyfriend and I still only have about eight evening meal staples, and they’re all one pot things because the thought of things finishing cooking at different time gives me the raging panic.
I record this for my own benefit, pre diagnosis.