Returning to an in-patient mental health ward after two years in the community came as a shock. On one of the first days in my new role, disaster struck on my way home, in the form of a bike accident. A fractured rib made every movement painful, putting a screeching halt to my plans to bring to an end the work I had been doing in the community as an occupational therapist, and to gradually transition into my new place of work. Stuck at home recovering, I couldn’t help but feel like the whole process had been hijacked.

While I was recovering, I couldn’t help but worry about my new place of work. There were complicated internal conflicts, recruitment issues, and low morale. I felt a mix of fear and excitement. Fearful because of the situation, but excited because I saw a chance to bring a new approach.

When I trained to become an occupational therapist, I learned all about different occupational therapy models that helped figure out the best ways to treat patients. But when I got my first job, things were totally different. There was not really a culture of using models to inform treatment planning. As a brand new therapist, with a million things to do and not much time to breathe, I ended up just focusing on tackling problems as they came up. Looking back, I realise I wasn’t really practicising occupational therapy. It was draining, and honestly not very effective.

Two years ago, thanks to my service, I took the ICAN online course about a South African occupational therapy model called the VdTMoCA (Vona du Toit Model of Creative Ability). Unlike most models that are mainly conceptual, the VdTMoCA gives therapists practical tools to use with clients. I loved it and knew I had to try it.

After the course, I dug deeper by reading a key book on VdTMoCA. There’s even a foundation (VdTMoCA Foundation in the UK) that helped me find a mentor! With their support, I learned how to put VdTMoCA into action with real patients. And it worked! I saw positive results using it with two clients I treated in the community.

Could I apply this approach in my new workplace?

Situated within a major English city, “Willow House” is a low-security forensic mental health unit right in the centre of town, close to shops, a park, and public transport. It is a place of rehabilitation for more than twenty men who are working on being able to move back into the community after a long period of illness and change. Two teams of different specialists work together to help each man. I am to be allocated to one of these teams.

Unlike a hospital, Willow House offers bedrooms with shared kitchens and living areas. The men are encouraged to live independently and participate in community activities, but many stay in their rooms, hindering their rehabilitation (including weight management). While an occupational therapy program exists to motivate them, participation is low.

My journey from qualification to this junction has not been easy. Juggling time, staying organised, and communicating in a busy, stressful environment has often been overwhelming. Unlike those who I trained with who are climbing the career ladder, I have not felt ready for more. Had I more sense I would have probably left the profession and chosen something less challenging.

Joining my workplace’s staff disability network was a game-changer. It not only helped me understand the difficulties I was facing, but it also connected me with valuable support. Even better, after sending a lot of emails and support from my employer, I’m happy to say that I’ll soon be working with a neurodiversity coach thanks to a government program called Access to Work. 

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For a number of reasons, I have felt compelled to document and share this journey. I would welcome your support and contribution by choosing to join me through subscribing to this blog.