Hmmmm….. Certain concerns about appointment with MP next week.

      Oh my god, what shall I wear? If I go suited and booted, makeup on and looking professional, then unfortunately stigma says that I don’t look like a nutter and maybe he wont take my complaint seriously. With this thought in mind I dyed my hair purple yesterday. I am planning to fill up my shopping trolley with plastic carrier bags, and not wash for a week. Maybe if I wear my wetsuit, with a bobble hat and slippers I may look the part. However, after being detained under section 136 of the mental health act once this week, I don’t really want to go back there.

This week has potentially been one of my worst weeks, hence the amount of drawings I have been putting up onto Facebook. Drawing is a diversion tactic for me, it makes me concentrate on something other than dying.

Yesterday I decided to cut my face off, and put cigarettes out on my arms, after having lacerated them with a Stanley knife. Therefore, today, when I was meant to have blood tests to make sure my liver is still working because of the amount of vodka I drink, I bottled out and left the waiting room. What can I say to people who ask what happened to my face? ‘Oh I cut myself shaving’, ‘be careful of exfoliation, it can remove parts of your face’, ‘I was wrestling with alligators and came off worse’, ‘be careful of those piranhas in the river, they are hungry right now’, or should I just say, I hate myself and my stupid face and wanted to cut it off?. Oh the cuts on my arms? ‘ Battling with brambles in my garden, and they won’, ‘I was engaged in a duel to the death, and though I obviously won, I have some superficial cuts’. The blisters and burns, hmmmmm, more tricky, however, what about, ‘I was involved in studying an active volcano which erupted whilst I was in the crater’, or ‘I have become allergic to sitting next to people who are not nuts, go away’.

It is ok though, I have come to a contract with my CPNs boss, a lovely man. I have agreed that I will not self-destruct until 12.30pm today, when he will phone me again with another contract. Though I have been thinking that contracts should be mutually beneficial; I don’t die on his watch, therefore he is ok, and has done his job well. But what about me? Do I get a fiver for not deliberately self harming? A certificate? A bottle of vodka? I think not, but I will negotiate with him later.

So, going to see MP today would on one hand be pretty good, as I am looking a right old nutty state, but then again, the points I wish to make need to be listened to, understood and acted on as if I wasn’t stigmatised and discriminated because I am justjane.

Karma......

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

Keeping it all together, or not...

It's been such a busy week so far. Appointments to keep, friends to keep up with, bills to pay, shopping to buy, cooking and housework to do, Facebook, Twitter and Blog to keep up with. Might not seem too much for those of you with a job, but this week, so far, has been a toughie. But so far so good,  I'm keeping it all together, I thought. Went to kitchen to make pot of coffee. Had run out of filter coffee in the storage jar, so opened a new packet to pour into the jar to use. The coffee spilled out of the packet and went all over the work surfaces and floor of kitchen. Now this isn't really such a big deal, at least I think it shouldn't be, but for me this morning it was the end of the world. The total proof that I couldn't keep anything together at all. So I sat on the kitchen floor and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, surrounded by coffee grounds, and one impatient house rabbit who really wanted me to pack it in, open the fridge and get his carrots out. But why such an over reaction? Problem with me is that I cannot regulate negative emotions. I am either ok, or in A&E being bandaged up and sedated.
Therapy is good, it helps me to learn skills to stay on the ok side of nutterdom, but at the moment the skills are not powerful enough to defeat the dark side.

Good news though, plan to change the world is going well, lots of great feedback for blog, and other stuff I have written. Hoping that small steps will conquer some of the negativity which seems endemic throughout much of our society.

On a lighter note, my lovely daughter will be here tomorrow, so loads to look forward to.

So..how do I get better then?

My biggest frustration and anger is that I am not better.... God knows I try, I take the handful of prescribed pills twice a day. Attend therapy twice a week, see my amazing CPN Nick once a week and a wonderful psychiatrist at least once a month, and yet I am no better. I understand more of what is wrong with me, understand the theory of how to use coping techniques when things get to what they call tier 2, but in practise, none of these work. I try harder, practise compassionate meditation, mindfulness in all that I do, but hell it always comes back to cutting, drinking yet another bottle of vodka, taking too many sedatives (or whatever else I have to hand) and trying to work out how to hang myself in my tiny flat (So far failed to find anything high enough and strong enough!)

My frustration is huge today, I have a great day planned with my lovely daughter, we have lots to get on with and projects to finish, but the blackness has enveloped me and I am not sure if I can do it. At least do it all without damaging my daughter. Are there any reasons why I should feel like this? Absolutely not, had a lovely night with man of my dreams and a friends family, didn't drink too much, took sleepy tablets at the right time, got up at a reasonable time... all good. 

Oh I got it, it's Friday the 13th! No, seriously the frustration of not being well is huge. There is nothing that I want more than to be a healthy Jane.

So... that's one in four of us huh?

The World Health Organisation stated that one in four people in the World are affected by mental health disorders.

As one of those 1,723,648,711 people in the world affected (did the maths, there are apparently 6,894,594,844 alive today!) I have found the stigma, lack of understanding and discrimination of others to have become another symptom of my illness.

My illness is not a choice or a personal failure. My illness was caused by situations and an environment I had little/no control of. However, for many people affected there is no reason, it just is.

The purpose of me writing this, is to help to put an end to the lack of understanding, discrimination and stigma attached to mental illness and give those who don't understand an intelligent insight into what it means, how it feels and my own journey to recovery.

So... no talking at the back please!