Just a moment.....

...just want to scramble onto my soapbox......

It takes a certain amount of moral courage to stand up and say that which the silent masses know, but do nothing about, and a certain self belief to do so.......

To rise up against the NHS and the Police Force, both major institutions in this country, takes not only intelligence and nerve, but also requires the passion to do so, the ability to keep doing it when it appears nothing is happening, to continue when it seems isolating....and why? Because it is worth doing. Because it has to happen. Because every day somewhere in this City, someone, somewhere, needs those missing resources.

Yes, there has been publicity, and yes, that is important... I wonder if the conversation between the head of Plymouth Police and Oliver Colvile MP regarding detaining mentally ill people in cells when they need 'a place of safety' (Section 136, Mental Health Act 1983) would have happened if I hadn't bought it to his attention? I wonder if the resulting publicity did anymore than provoke the usual bigots who comment on articles in the Plymouth Herald to state that mentally ill should be cells, should be given strait jackets and head protectors to stop them from hurting themselves....if the article did little more than objectifying those with mental health illness... I don't know, but I hope not.

What I do know is that I don't start something without the intention of getting my own way... yes, maybe my idea of a naked protest across Plymouth was a little more than courageous, probably bordering on daft, and would have got us all locked up...but it is that passion that drives me forward...

The frustration which comes at times, can stop me. Why don't others see this as a priority? Why can't others see what damage is being done by their lack of urgency, their lack of prioritisation? But we are one in four, that is a quarter, and I guess the three quarters, don't know what it is like to be in that other quarter, and I am not alone, I am sure, in hoping that they never become the one in four that they currently are not.

So, onwards ever onwards, no I don't need a troop of cheerleaders with their pom poms, shouting that I am doing good.... I don't need a parade of naked one in fours waving banners in the air... I just need to remember what it was like to be sat in a cell for hours, what it was like to be dropped back at my flat after forty eight hours of assault, physcological assessment and then forensic examination, to know that this is right, and I will do it. 

Let Battle Commence.......

PLEASE CLICK THIS LINK

Now we are getting somewhere......thank you Mr Colvile MP, this is just what we need to get stigma and horrible discrimination out of this city! My hours spent in cells have and do haunt me.  

Response from Oliver Colvile MP......

yesterday I had a phone call from Mia Rees, PA to Oliver Colvile, and then an email from him!
He has spoken to Theresa May, the Home Secretary regarding the situation in Plymouth,  re: lack of crisis house and the unit for 136 detainees being closed, and also about what happened to me. I am not sure what her response was as yet, but we have a meeting soon, so I am sure that I will be updated then. He is seeing Andrew Bickley, the Chief Superintendent of Police for Charles Cross on Friday, and will discuss with him, my experiences in the cells! The meeting with Tony Hogg is set up for the 11th October, and after conversation with Mary Embleton, is going to talk to Twelves Company, the Sexual Assault Referral Centre.
I must chase up the Health Reporter from the local newspaper, as she was meant to call me regarding positive publicity for the need for a crisis home... glad that he reminded me about that.
So, all good news. I must say that I had never thought of going to my MP before, and when I did, I was surprised by not only how seriously I was taken, but also the positive actions which have come from that meeting. I recommend it to you all dear readers, if you have a fight, take it to Parliament!

Yesterday....

By about five oclock, I realised that sitting in, hiding from dragons would not feed me, and that I would have to face Sainsburys. Having made it to Marsh Mills roundabout, most of the lanes were solid with traffic as our amazing Police Force had decided to stop an overstuffed Volvo, with about a million children in the back and poor mum and dad, looking sunburned (heaven knows how) and very stressed, on the roundabout. Poor mum and dad, at the back of the Volvo, which was stuffed with deckchairs, windbreaks, towels, wet dogs, picnic boxes, were remonstrating in a half hearted demonstration of road worthiness with the Police Officers and the kids were kicking off in the back seat. Other drivers hooted mercilessly at them. I however, had realised that as the Police had now blocked the roundabout and were busy harassing tourists that I might be able to get round Sainsburys without getting detained for having the potential to shoplift. So I parked, raced around the shop, back to the truck and shot swiftly down the Embankment, and out to see the sea..... five minutes with the sea was all I wanted, just five minutes solitude, watching the waves, listening to the waves. I parked up in a deserted car park, at last I thought, five minutes to chill, with my favourite place,the sea. Radio four in the background, the shipping forecast, perfect....... Out of the sea, like one of those monsters from Dr Who came this thing, a black shape, barely human form.. no face, tubes coming from all over the monster... I froze (think I could have been disassociating at this point) The monster walked towards the truck and stopped. I, horrified, could not move, and was frozen in my seat. the monster moved closer and took off its face.... 'eh up', it said, 'art that the shippin forcast?', 'Yup' I mumbled, trying to work out what to do, trying to get a grip on reality... the monster then told me he was diver from Leicester, 'you've swum a long way', I glibly retorted, but alas, he really was from Leicester and was staying in Scout Hut in Plympton with some other divers. We talked about the visibility, which for Plymouth was fog patches, moderate to poor, and then I left. I could not think of anywhere else I could go by the sea to have my five minutes, and unfortunately it messed up my head for a few hours. But hey, I made it out alive, sea monster turned out to be a skinny bloke from Leicester.

Follow up letter to MP

                                                                                                                     

Dear Mr. Colvile

Thank you for our meeting of the 9^th August 2012. I know it has been over a week since we spoke, but I just wanted to clarify a few points, so that I am prepared for the plans we have made.

Firstly I have contacted             and spoken to him about my experiences. He feels that I would be better served speaking to                     the Health Reporter, and I am expecting to hear from her soon.

I understand that you are writing to the Home Secretary to ask about other Crisis Homes, where they are and how they operate. Also, that you would be visiting a crisis home in Exeter.  I have had a response from Steve Waite, Chief Executive of Plymouth Community Healthcare, regarding the Crisis House, he has asked for twenty one days to respond!

Steve Waite has also responded  regarding the unit for people held under Section 136 of the Mental Health Act at Glenbourne. Apparently, this unit has been closed, as it was manned by using a nurse from the Glenbourne unit for the necessary assessment of people detained. As this nurse was then then withdrawn from Glenbourne, there was an impact on service in this acute ward. Therefore the unit was shut. It will however be reopened at the beginning of the next financial year, when more appropriately, a nurse will be recruited to man this unit at all times. However, my concern remains the human cost of this decision, and that even I, can see many ways in which this unit could be manned in times of crisis immediately.

You said that you would arrange to meet with Mary Embleton, the lead mental health commissioner for Plymouth to discuss my experiences.

You said that you would be meeting with Andrew Bickley, Chief Superintendent of Police regarding my experience of being detained under section 136 of the Mental Health Act in a Police cell within Charles Cross Police Station. You also mentioned that Charles Cross Police Station was the busiest within the country, and had problems within the custody area with detainees having drug and alcohol problems and was an area where there was significant abuse of Police Officers. I feel this does not make this area a place of safety within the Mental Health Act.

You said that you would arrange a meeting with myself, David Carney Heworth, a Sergeant at Devonport Police Station, and yourself, to discuss my experiences of domestic abuse and a way forward in terms of the judicial process.

You also said that you would arrange a meeting of yourself, myself and Tony Hogg, the Conservative candidate for Police and Crime Commissioner for Devon and Cornwall, to discuss the lack of crisis house, and the closed unit for Section 136 detainees.

I understand that you have a lot to organise, and a lot of people to speak to. However, I would like an idea of when the meetings you have arranged for me to be present at will be, and what sort of response you have had from Chief Superintendent Andrew Bickley, the Home Office and Mary Embleton.

Many thanks,

Isabelle Nuts

kerplunk........

it's Thursday, nothing has changed, except that without warning, I have landed back at the bottom of the pit. It doesn't help that I feel physically ill again, but no, back at the bottom. Perhaps that's not fair, after all, I have not chopped myself up, overdosed, planned to die, and I am not sat in a cell in a Police Station, I have not been detained, so perhaps I am only half way down, oh joy, that means it could be worse. Or perhaps not, maybe I could get some climbing gear on, and climb back up, but I can't today. It isn't a raw feeling, just an over all sad and incapable one. One of those times where sitting staring into nothing at nothing seems like the best, if not only option. My CPN will be here in about an hour, he is great, but there isn't an answer to this, no magic fairy dust, no elephant pill, no cure for this, it just is what it is.

Hands together please.....

and a standing ovation for me, as I have driven to and from Liskeard, negotiating right hand turns and roundabouts (both absolute phobias of mine), without incident, and without tears.... ta daaaaaaa.....!

Last time I had to drive any distance, and we are only talking driving up to the service station at Exeter, about forty miles away, I sobbed for the entire drive,  navigating Haldon Hill with buckets of tears and snotty hankies piling up, I am surprised I made it at all. But that time I took Dave the house rabbit with me, so I had to drive carefully. Poor Dave, all of a sudden he is bundled up into his carry box, strapped onto the passenger seat and driven up the A38 and M5 to meet a Police Officer, who also thought the arrangement slightly odd, but was pleased to meet him. This time, as Froogs and I were doing the ladies who lunch and womble day, it was unfair to cart him off and leave him in the truck for hours so I drove on my own. I was accompanied by Radio Four with a stern female voice who I could imagine telling me to pull myself together and get on with it, so I did.

The day has been great, lovely to meet up with Froogs and gossip and shop and lunch. Great to have completed the drives there and back without bumping into anyone or anything, and so great to do it all and feel competent and well... hooorrrraaayyyyy!

Well, it went something like this.....

After having posted yesterday morning, I began to feel really, really bad, massive panic attack which just wouldn't go away, tried drugs, nope, tried calming breathing, nope, tried going for walk, nope, tried driving to Sainsburys buying cheap bottle of pink wine, drinking large glass, yup, that worked...

Ho hum... wish it wasn't alcohol that makes the feelings go away, but at the moment, it'll have to do.  

Nikkinokkinoo, a great friend from school arrived at 2pm, with the epilator, so with as much physical effort as it takes to trim a garden hedge, I removed offending hairy areas from legs!

Thank goodness she was there... not only did I not drink the entire bottle of pink wine (which would have caused me to be calmer, but less eloquent at forthcoming meeting!), but she put together a plan of what I wanted to achieve from the meeting.  Nikki and I have known each other since I was twelve, and I think she truely knows me (she is also a teacher, so a few teachery looks from her, and I did behave, drank a glass of water, instead of the rest of the bottle!). Having a written 'plan of attack' made me feel much more in control of what I had to do, I kind of had an idea in my head of what I wanted, but having it written down made much more sense.

So, aim one for him to understand and support the need for a crisis house in Plymouth, and to work towards having one in place for people who need support in times of mental health crisis.

Aim two, to understand that the unit for people detained under section 136 of the mental health act to be reopened without delay.

Aim three, to agree to use publicity, ie local press to promote the positive impact of how aims one and two would impact on the city

Aim four, to agree an action plan towards the above goals with a timeline, and to define my own role within the project.

Aim five, to take me seriously or I would burn down his office.

I had printed some of the blog, and he had obviously read the letter which is one of the previous posts, letter to Oliver Colvile.... I also printed a copy of a summary of a CICA tribunal which has awarded me 100% compensation for abuse suffered in a previous relationship, my entire teaching portfolio, which shows where I was when I was well, plus a copy of my care plan written by my CPN, so we had enough information to go forwards.

   

Well..... not only did he take me very seriously, and listened to what I had to say, agreed with my ideas and said that he would support them, he also raised other points.

He has given me the name of a journalist who I could work with to raise awareness of mental health issues within the city.

He will be meeting with the Police Superintendent to speak to him about the way in which I was dealt with, refer back to post on being detained under section 136 of mental health act in a Police cell for five hours, plus the strip and internal searches of my body. He will be writing to the Home Office regarding this also.

He is going to speak to Steve Waite, Chief Exec of Plymouth Mental Health to find out why funding was withdrawn from Section 136 unit.

But most of all, for a reason I didn't even go to see him about, but had included the paperwork in my bundle of what my life was like before I got totally nutty, he and I are going to have a meeting with a senior Police Officer in the next two weeks about how we can take forward and bring to justice someone who must remain nameless, but who so deserves to face what he has done to me, and the judicial consequences of them........

Much love x

thoughts....

I am always doing that which I cannot do, in order that I may learn how to do it....Pablo Picasso.

Today is the day I put together the pack for appointment with MP. Not quite what to take, apart from making sure I wear clean pants I am not sure what else? Some statistics could go down nicely, as I am sure that MPs like those, but I am rubbish with numbers, but will see what Google and I can come up with. A copy of all my letters to the Police, jeeez, I will have to take a back pack for all this stuff.
Guess all I really need to take is my passion for change, and my story. Hope that will do it.
Last quote for this entry... from the Dalai Lama, "If we try to secure the well being of others, we will, at the same time, create the conditions of our own".

Tum....te....tum

Today… well today is one of those days when I am defined by illness. I simply cannot cope. I have tried removing myself from people, tried driving, drawing, painting and pastels, no good, can’t find peace of mind. Have taken prescribed tablets, not too many, just the right prescribed amount. Am thinking of turning on telly and watching mindless crap, but can’t face the thought of wasting the day doing nothing. It is intermittently raining, so no beach and no walk. Got no money, so can’t waste day wandering around shops, and really I don’t want anything anyway. Have come up with plan to clean flat, but just remembered I did that yesterday. Thought about cleaning blinds in sitting room, but after event with rabbit and curtain pole earlier in the week, have decided against that.

I am not depressed, I have great drive and motivation to do things, and depression usually affects people’s ability to be motivated. No, not depressed.

I have tried being mindful, ie. Reminding myself that right now I am safe and that nothing harmful is going to happen, or at least nothing harmful is happening right now. Nope, that isn’t what is going on in my brain.

I am not bored, though I can’t paint, draw or do anything well today, it doesn’t really matter, I can still do it, just do it badly, and that’s not a problem, I only do it for me, it’s not like I am ever going to be a professional artist and find my livelihood depends on it. But that doesn’t seem to bring relief today.

Maybe I could write another letter of complaint to the Police about how they dealt with me when they detained me under section 136 of the Mental Health Act, but there seems little point as the last two letters have made no difference. Could compile all the information I need Oliver Colvile MP to see when I meet him next week. But have awful feeling that the meeting will be that horrid little pat on the head,’there, there dear’, and nothing will change.

Maybe I could go to Sainsburys and buy a bottle of their pink value plonk and drink that followed by vast amounts of vodka? At least then I would feel nothing.

Cutting is no longer an issue, at least not to my face. Ben, my CPNs boss, who I mentioned in yesterday s blog, came to see me. He had come up with a contract, that I wasn’t allowed to cut myself until 12.30pm of yesterday and I stuck to it. However, when he came to the flat yesterday , I mentioned to him that though I had stuck to the contract and not cut, I felt that contracts should be mutually beneficial, and that this one wasn’t. He had asked me not to use my method of dealing with my frustration and self hate, not replaced it with anything else, and in return, he had a  patient who hadn’t cut and he therefore had done a good job. He then asked me to agree to another contract. This time I had wised up to his contracts. He asked that I didn’t cut my face until after I completed a new form of therapy, DBT, psycho dynamic psychotherapy, EMDR, lobotomy, can’t remember what it was.Ha! I thought, not on your nelly mate, to satisfy this contract, I want something out of it too. I suggested a large bottle of vodka, he refused, I asked for a big box of diazepam, he refused, I asked for a balloon, he refused….. running out of ideas I asked for a t-shirt. We have now agreed, that in six months time, if I stick to my part of the contract, I will get a t-shirt which will state, ‘Bugger me, Ben was right!’. I have to say I am not sure I will wear it, but at least this time, we have almost a contract.

So, today, I am going to draw, very badly, some boats and some angels……..

Much love, peace and safety  to you all x

Letter to MP Oliver Colville and Chief Exec of Plymouth Community Healthcare

RE: Lack of Crisis Home and specialised unit for patients detained under section 136 of the Mental Health Act

Dear Sir
I write, not as a letter of complaint, but of one despair and hope. I write with honesty about me, my illness and my need for resources to be improved, not only for me, but for all other patients who have had to endure stigma, discrimination and a lack of understanding from those who have not been educated in how to manage those with mental health illness.
On the ******* I was *****. I was picked up by a Police patrol car and taken to *********  Police Station.I was naked and was given a blue paper outfit to wear At this point it was decided by the Police Officers, that I needed to be psychologically assessed to determine whether or not I was fit to consent to be forensically examined for evidence of the alleged ****. This took the whole day, being moved first to ************* Police Station, where I was told I could not be seen as I would contaminate evidence as the accused was being held in custody. I was then taken  to ********* Hospital, where I sat in a room with several Psychiatrists, a social worker, a student nurse, and two SOLO officers to determine whether or not I was competent. This took most of the day. At ten o'clock I was taken from the ward, out through the public entrance. During this time, wearing only the blue paper suit, which stank of the accused and what he had done ( I was physically sick throughout the day because of the smell), I was taken in and out of the Hospital by uniformed officers, through the public waiting area. The Officers were uniformed and I felt as those watching us walk though could only consider that I was under arrest, or in some kind of trouble with the Police. I was taken to the forensic examination room across the other side ofthe city and was intimately examined. Afterwards, though they had spent all day ascertaining that I was suffering from severe and enduring mental illness symptoms of which are self harm and alcoholism, I was dropped back to my flat where I live alone. I will not explain to you what happened next, as there is only so much you need to know about my self hate and torture, but lets just accept it wasn't nice. I should have been dropped to a crisis house. The majority of major cities have crisis houses where people like myself, who are a danger to themselves are looked after during crisis, rather than being admitted to a general psychiatric ward.
On the night of the ********I  I was visited by a Police Officer, she was there as I was not answering my phone, and someonewith a super sized ego thought I must be dead if I didn't answer his phone call, but I just wanted an evening to myself, not to talk to anyone. However, when the Officer saw the cuts to my arms and legs, she called for a Sergeant to attend. When I went outside for a cigarette, I was detained under section 136 of the Mental Health Act. I was taken to ************* Police Station. I was put into a cell, stripped of my clothing and had a scanner ran over my body. The scanner picked up metal in my hips, legs and ankle. I explained that I had had titanium implants in these areas, the surgical scars are still obvious, they they then felt it necessary to internally examine me both vaginally and rectally. I was kept in a cell for five hours. Eventually I was seen by a psychiatrist who had access to my care plan and I was allowed to leave.
People who are detained under this section of the Mental Health Act, should not be kept in a Police cell. The unit for section 136 must be reopened immediately. I understand it has been closed due to financial cut backs, but these financial cut backs may be the reason, or may already be a reason for a person taking their own lives.  My symptoms have now escalated to the point where my psychiatrist is phoning me daily, my medications have been increased, and we are looking at me having to be an inpatient at the Priory as the local psychiatric hospital would be too traumatic for me. I have no complaint with the secondary mental health team, they are second to none. I have amazing care from my psychiatrist, My CPN is brilliant and visits me at least weekly, the Gateway to Mental Health service is consistently helpful. But they cannot do their jobs effectively whilst there are these lack of resources.
I have many ideas, how we could get these resources in place, but can no longer write, it is all a bit traumatic and raw to write anymore. But I will send you my phone number, please lets make an arrangement to meet so we can discuss this further.

PS. Odd how the logo has crossed fingers, this shouldn't be about luck, it should be about human rights

Mental Health Act Section 136...Removing a person to a place of safety

Tonight, the man who says he loves me said that I had a nightmare last night and woke up shouting that I did not know where the bodies of my children were, and that I had disturbed his sleep. He did not want me to disturb his sleep tonight so I had better go back to my flat alone. Believe me, I do not want nightmares, I do not plan them, and try disrupt his sleep and I do not want him to blame me and then to isolate me. It made me very sad , for christs sake I do not want to be ill and haunted by the past. I left telling him that he should not expect to see me again. The previous night he had assured me that if I wrote a list of the things that he had done which had hurt me he would make sure that he would not only apologise, but also make sure that he would never do them again.

However, tonight, me saying that he would never see me again, made him decide that I was going to kill myself, oh no chance of that...I have mega strength and some amazing friends who I could call now, and they would be here in minutes. My words were that I had had enough of being blamed for my illness by him, I do not get pleasure from nightmares, flashbacks, self harm, alcoholism and overdosing, no, it is f****ing horrible.   Instead a Police Officer turned up at my door and as soon as I went outside for a cigarette she detained me under section 136 of the mental health act, removal of a person to a place of safety.

A SAFE PLACE.

I have been kept in a Police cell for five hours. I was strip searched and then internally searched as the metal pins and implants which keep my pelvis, thighs and ankle in  place and mended, set off their metal detector.

I was seen by two psychiatrists who had no idea why I was being kept there against my will, and have just been escorted home in a marked Police car.

A Police cell, I hope none of you will ever experience that. Watched by CCTV constantly, talked to by through a grill in the wall. Coffee handed to me through a letter box shaped gap in the door. Given a blue cotton gown and a pair of filthy size seven flip flops, my feet are a size five and are clean. My possessions and clothes taken away, recorded. My hair clip and earrings taken away. Imprisoned in cells next to where other prisoners were either raging or snoring.

 I had done nothing wrong, please give me the strength not to forgive this but also to survive it, cos right now.... I can't x

            

Complaint to the Police...... removed the libellous bits from this one!

Dear Sir,

I write to complain about the way ********** dealt with my complaint, log number *********, crime complaint number *********.

On the afternoon of the 20^th of July, **************************, followed me driving my car along the A38 from the Saltash Bridge toll booths, to the exit to Marsh Mills roundabout. He followed me very closely, pulling back and then accelerating up to the back of my car. I was very frightened as this is a continuation of harassment, for which he has received a police harassment notice in the past. Once I returned home, I phoned the 101 number and reported what had happened. I was told that Officers would come to see me at 7.30 that evening. At 10.30 I received a phone call from the Police stating that they were very busy that evening, and made an appointment to see me at 9.30 the following morning. The Officers again failed to attend, so I again called 101 and made the appointment for Officers to speak to me for 11.30 the following Monday. I was then called to say that appointment had already been taken and that Officers would come to see me at 1.30 on Monday (23^rd July 2012).

When the Officers arrived, ******* and ********** took my complaint seriously and recorded it as a non crime domestic abuse incident. They said that the driving offence could not be corroborated by an independent witness so nothing could be done about that (though I feel sure that the amount of CCTVs along that stretch of road, could not only act as evidence, but also witness to the alleged offence), but that an Officer would speak to ******** and give him ‘strong words of advice’ about leaving me alone and not harassing me. I asked that ******** should not be spoken to at home, as two of my children live with him and did not want them to be upset by Police presence. I was assured that this would not happen and that they would speak to him away from the house. I did not have his mobile telephone number, as requested, but was assured by the Officers that they would find it, and call him to make an appointment.

On the 24^th of July I collected my daughter *****, who lives with ********, and told her what had happened. I didn’t want to spend the day with her, and then for her to go home to be told that *** *** had been spoken to about an incident which involved me. It seemed to me that if I didn’t tell her that when she found out she would be cross with me for withholding that information from her. I told her that I in no way expected her to choose between me and *******, but that I would not tolerate him behaving in the way he had and that I had no option but to report it to the Police. I assured her that it had nothing to do with her, and that she would not have to deal with the Police at all. I spent a lovely day with her on the beach, and dropped her home to ******* at 4.30 that afternoon. She was concerned that ***********would want to know why she continued to see me when I had reported him to the Police, but felt that she could deal with him and the on-going situation.

At 5.10pm I received a text message from her saying the Police had turned up at the door, asking for *** *******mobile phone number and stating that they would return later to speak to him. She was very angry with me, as I had promised that she would not have to deal with the situation at all. I reiterated to her that I had asked the Police not to do what they had just done, but she has now estranged herself from me. I phoned 101, quoting the crime complaint number and was told clearly by the Police Officer from the enquiries desk that my request that the children were protected from the incident was clearly stated. I tried to assure ***** that was the case; however, she is extremely angry with me, as are all my children. At 9.30 that evening PC ****************************** phoned me from*******Police. He told me that he had spoken to *****at the door and that ***** had said she knew why he was there; she gave him *********** mobile number. Therefore the Police Officer felt it was ok to go back and to speak to ******** at that address later.

You are the POLICE FORCE, Miss Marple, Hercule Poirot, Bergerac, Columbo; Inspector Morse etc etc…could have found his number without disregarding my stated wish that his mobile telephone number would be gained in another way than speaking to my child, against my acknowledged request.  ********** told me that ******** did not accept that ******** had harassed me and in fact felt harassed himself by the Police intervention.********** made me feel I should not have reported the incident to the Police and that he was correct in attending the property to gain the telephone number and then returning to the property to speak to ********.

I suffer from severe and enduring mental illness. I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder with psychotic episodes as a result of twenty one years of domestic, emotional, sexual and violent abuse from ********. I enclose a copy of the CICA tribunal statement from Judge Walker, which states I will receive 100% compensation capped at £500,000 for this abuse.

I receive treatment from a psychiatric nurse on a weekly basis; I attend therapy twice a week, see my psychiatrist twice a month, and use the Gateway to Mental Health phone line almost daily. I suffer from self abuse including deliberate cutting to my arms and legs, abuse of alcohol on a daily basis, overdosing of prescribed sedatives and repeated attempts of suicide. The Officers **** and ******* were made aware of this in addition to the enclosed CICA document which I gave them to read. I did not however feel I could discuss the impact of what ********** had told me with him, as he was defensive and abrupt. The symptoms of my illness have now not only escalated, but I also feel that I will no longer inform the Police of anything, by doing it this time, I have lost the only thing which I feel was worth staying alive for, my children.

I do not accept your apologies, and it would seem that your apology to my daughter has also not been accepted.

May you take care, consideration and compassion in your future plans for Police Force training.

Why it isn't easy to like me...

as you know, I suffer from a few pretty devastating mental illnesses. The reasons for which I cannot publish, for their libellous content, but the symptoms are not!
I cannot cope with negative emotions, they consume me. The result of this leads to me abusing alcohol, cutting my arms and legs with blades, overdosing on sedatives and attempting suicide.
I wish with everything in me that I was well and that I did not do this, but I do. I it is not "attention seeking", as has been suggested in the past by a so called friend, it is not a waste of Police and Ambulance services, as has been suggested by a Police Officer, it is not up to me, I don't want to feel like this,I WANT TO BE WELL. it is the result of an illness, of which I have no control, the reasons for cannot be discussed, as previously mentioned, they are libellous.
Believe me, no one wants to feel like this. I think everyone wants to feel happy, or at least a state of normalness, peace, safety and love.
Tonight, I had a conversation with the man of my dreams, who believes, erroneously that it is up to me to be better. Yes, I partake in the pill/potions/therapy etc which I am glad to take part in and engage fully, but to be honest it just ain't hitting the spot.
Yesterday I took a combination of diazepam and vodka, the point of this was to die. I am frustrated by my attempts to be well not working, and the effects it has had on my relationships with other people I love. It must be damn had work being friends and loving someone who just wants to die. Today, having been thwarted by the attempts of the emergency services to die, I cut have cut up my arms and legs. I have done this in an attempt to supercede the overwhelming emotions of self hate and guilt I feel for having failed to die, and for hating that I will have to cope with another day, tomorrow, feeling that I am the worlds worst girlfriend, mother, ex-wife, daughter etc.
BUT .... a word of hope, we do all have friends, strong friends who are there for us, the non-judgemental, loving friends who may not have the answers, but who are there.... love them, like they love you x x and you will find acceptance, not for the illness you suffer from, but for YOU x x much love to you friend, you know who you are x