Am I eligible for free mental health care? How would I know?

Alice O'Keeffe's "Squeezed Middle" column.

‘‘So how long have you been having these irrational thoughts?” I pause to think this through. It’s important to give the correct answer. I have to strike just the right balance with the kind lady from the Mental Health Access Team who has phoned to assess me. If she thinks I’m not mentally unstable enough, she will not refer me for free counselling. If she thinks I’m too mentally unstable, she might call in the social and tell them to take my kids away. Would she actually do that? On balance, probably not. Nevertheless, I must tread carefully.
 
I immediately decide against the honest answer, which is that I don’t think my depression is “irrational” at all. It is based on hard facts, many of them scientifically provable. First, our flat is too small for a family of four. Second, there is now officially no chance of us ever being able to move out. Third, our joint incomings do not match our outgoings and we have no savings or pensions. Fourth, the government has no interest in making things better for families like us – or, indeed, anyone other than their Old Etonian buddies. Fifth, the destruction of the environment continues unchecked, with consequences that are likely to prove utterly disastrous for humanity within my children’s lifetime.
 
I’d argue, on balance, that this is reason enough to feel legitimately less than 100 per cent zip-a-dee-doo-dah. On the other hand, whatever your circumstances, your glass could always be half full. No doubt it is partly the way I am perceiving the difficulties which makes them feel insurmountable. If I were more of a can-do type of personality, I’d be out there doing a jolly tap-dance on the grave of Europe’s bee populations.
 
“It started a couple of months ago. The baby stopped sleeping. We were buying a house and then it fell through . . .” I give her the sorry list of symptoms: the exhaustion, the creeping insomnia, the almost constant snivelling. She sounds pleasingly concerned. This is going well.
 
“Any suicidal feelings?”
 
Gosh. Funnily enough I did catch myself lying in bed the other day, thinking how nice it would be never to have to get up ever again, never to have to deal with another unexpected bill or another broken night . . . but it was more an idle thought than an active planning-to-kill-myself thing. Does that count as suicidal? I’m not sure.
 
“No,” I say firmly. “Not at all.”
 
“Good,” she says briskly. “So what I’m going to do is recommend that you come in for a full assessment session with one of our mental health nurses. You should receive a letter in the post.”
 
“Great. Thank you.” Result! I can’t wait for them to make me better again. “And how long will it take to get the appointment?”
 
“It shouldn’t be more than six weeks.”
 
SIX WEEKS!!! I can’t wait six weeks. Curly is on the brink of disowning me. I’m on the brink of disowning myself. I take a deep breath. “Right. Well, thank you very much for your help.” As I hang up, the tears have already formed a puddle on the keypad.
Alice O'Keeffe's "Squeezed Middle" column appears weekly in the New Statesman.

Alice O'Keeffe is an award-winning journalist and former arts editor of the New Statesman. She now works as a freelance writer and looks after two young children. You can find her on Twitter as @AliceOKeeffe.

This article first appeared in the 19 August 2013 issue of the New Statesman, Why aren’t young people working

Getty
Show Hide image

Why Clive Lewis was furious when a Trident pledge went missing from his speech

The shadow defence secretary is carving out his own line on security. 

Clive Lewis’s first conference speech as shadow defence secretary has been overshadowed by a row over a last-minute change to his speech, when a section saying that he “would not seek to change” Labour’s policy on renewing Trident submarines disappeared.

Lewis took the stage expecting to make the announcement and was only notified of the change via a post-it note, having reportedly signed it of with the leader’s office in advance. 

Lewis was, I’m told, “fucking furious”, and according to Kevin Schofield over at PoliticsHome, is said to have “punched a wall” in anger at the change. The finger of blame is being pointed at Jeremy Corbyn’s press chief, Seumas Milne.

What’s going on? The important political context is the finely-balanced struggle for power on Labour’s ruling national executive committee, which has tilted away from Corbyn after conference passed a resolution to give the leaders of the Welsh and Scottish parties the right to appoint a representative each to the body. (Corbyn, as leader, has the right to appoint three.)  

One of Corbyn’s more resolvable headaches on the NEC is the GMB, who are increasingly willing to challenge  the Labour leader, and who represent many of the people employed making the submarines themselves. An added source of tension in all this is that the GMB and Unite compete with one another for members in the nuclear industry, and that being seen to be the louder defender of their workers’ interests has proved a good recruiting agent for the GMB in recent years. 

Strike a deal with the GMB over Trident, and it could make passing wider changes to the party rulebook through party conference significantly easier. (Not least because the GMB also accounts for a large chunk of the trade union delegates on the conference floor.) 

So what happened? My understanding is that Milne was not freelancing but acting on clear instruction. Although Team Corbyn are well aware a nuclear deal could ease the path for the wider project, they also know that trying to get Corbyn to strike a pose he doesn’t agree with is a self-defeating task. 

“Jeremy’s biggest strength,” a senior ally of his told me, “is that you absolutely cannot get him to say something he doesn’t believe, and without that, he wouldn’t be leader. But it can make it harder for him to be the leader.”

Corbyn is also of the generation – as are John McDonnell and Diane Abbott – for whom going soft on Trident was symptomatic of Neil Kinnock’s rightward turn. Going easy on this issue was always going be nothing doing. 

There are three big winners in all this. The first, of course, are Corbyn’s internal opponents, who will continue to feel the benefits of the GMB’s support. The second is Iain McNicol, formerly of the GMB. While he enjoys the protection of the GMB, there simply isn’t a majority on the NEC to be found to get rid of him. Corbyn’s inner circle have been increasingly certain they cannot remove McNicol and will insead have to go around him, but this confirms it.

But the third big winner is Lewis. In his praise for NATO – dubbing it a “socialist” organisation, a reference to the fact the Attlee government were its co-creators – and in his rebuffed attempt to park the nuclear issue, he is making himeslf the natural home for those in Labour who agree with Corbyn on the economics but fear that on security issues he is dead on arrival with the electorate.  That position probably accounts for at least 40 per cent of the party membership and around 100 MPs. 

If tomorrow’s Labour party belongs to a figure who has remained in the trenches with Corbyn – which, in my view, is why Emily Thornberry remains worth a bet too – then Clive Lewis has done his chances after 2020 no small amount of good. 

Stephen Bush is special correspondent at the New Statesman. He usually writes about politics.