Before any of you panic – or celebrate – no, I’m not signing off from Moodscope; it’s my psychiatrist who has signed me off from his books back into the hands of my GP.

I’ve been seeing the lovely Dr Samar every six weeks for the past eighteen months. We needed to adjust my medication so it reliably controls the ups and downs of the bipolar and steadies me at the right level: not too high and not too low.

Now, after six months of stability, it’s time to say goodbye. We both hope, for the nicest of reasons, that’s it’s goodbye and not au revoir.

For the past eighteen months, however, Dr Samar has been my safety net. If I felt high or low, or my family noticed anything – which was far more likely – he was there at the end of the phone. Now, if anything goes wrong, I must go through my GP and be referred all over again.

Not that I think anything will go wrong, but it feels as if the training wheels have been taken off my bike and I’m balancing all by myself as I pedal off down the road.

It’s the right decision and the right time for the decision. I agree completely, but it still feels a little uncomfortable.

My daughter must have felt this on Wednesday, as I hugged her goodbye in her new university room and drove away. She’s been away from home before; she’s travelled in Europe and Central America, but this is the first time she has been completely on her own looking after herself. She’s as prepared as she can be, but it will still feel strange to her.

I imagine we have all been in this position, or something like it before: where the support has been taken away and we’re on our own. Hopefully, it has turned out that we were able to fly on our own, but I know it doesn’t always turn out that way. So far, a week on, my daughter seems to be enjoying herself, but I heard of another case where the young person couldn’t cope with university life and came back home after three days.

We all need support sometimes, but we also need to recognise there is a time when support must be withdrawn, and we must cope on our own. I am not meaning the kind of support that is permanent and ongoing; my elderly mother, for instance, will need more support as time goes on, not less, but the case is quite different there.

There are different forms of support and different needs. I attended a funeral yesterday of a woman who died suddenly and far too young. Her family will need support. My older daughter will need support as she starts her new accountancy job and training. My husband needs support as he works his way through his own health issues. Hopefully, he will be better soon.

We are all happy to offer support, but at what point is it right to gently withdraw that support and let people pedal on their own?

Mary

A Moodscope member