I have a reputation for being eccentric at work. My desk is messy and I’m known for singing the same three songs in sudden unbridled outbursts. And yet I’ve managed to hold down the same job for over eight years, rarely letting a ball drop. For five years I masqueraded as unconventional but sane. If I ever needed to take time off to repair my mental health, I would blame flu, food-poisoning, migraines – anything but that. Anything but have colleagues look at me in pity, judgment or doubt.