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

            

Goddamit, they will take away my drugs.... :o(

THIS IS A VERY HONEST ACCOUNT OF SOMETHING YOU MAY FIND OFFENSIVE, AND MIGHT BE BETTER OFF IGNORING THIS POST


One day this week, and I can't remember what day it was as I am totally stuck on today being Tuesday, and apparently it is in fact Sunday. I took 500mg of diazepam with 70cl of vodka, reason for was to die.
If you refer back to my complaint to the Police entry/post you may understand my motive for this even though you may not understand how I justified suicide, my thoughts of having no one who loved and cared for me, was my rationalisation for this. Yes, many of you will not understand, and I am sorry, and I accept you can't. Many of you may think it is an offence against God, Buddah, whatever you believe in, and maybe it is. But I can't exist without knowing that someone out there cares and accepts me, for the shitty, nutty, crazy  loony that I am.
Someone, who will remain nameless couldn't get hold of me of the phone, but didn't have the balls themselves to knock on the door and show some compassion, or at least just let me be, phoned the Police and  Paramedics who broke in through a window. I was unconscious. They chose to go against my wishes and to save me. I don't think, that once I woke up in hospital, I have ever been so pissed off about being alive, as I have ever been about anything else ever.
I tell you this with honesty, clarity, and with some idea of how things might get better. (But I can absolutely guarantee the secondary mental health team will not give me drugs again. Bless them, I surely let them down by doing this, and I am sorry that I did this with their prescribed drugs.)
The man who I loved has asked me to write down a list of things that he has to do to regain my trust, my love and my respect. Right now my reaction to this is for him to either lie down in front of a truck and die painfully, or I could try to stay off the vodka long enough to write the list, or I could do some self preservation, keep my phone off and not bother with him (Jesus, i nearly wrote another profanity again).

And...... the amazing thing, the thing I had not even thought about is the seemingly endless list of amazing friends who are there for me, who do love me for the fucked up nutter that I am. I could make a huge list and embarrass all of them, but it is ok to embarrass my brother, that is part of my role of being a sister, ha ha ha, my brother is the best. I haven't seen him for so many years, but you know what, even though we loathed each other as children, normal brother sister relationship, I couldn't love anyone more, obviously in a sisterly way, than I could love anyone.

Here's to brothers! To staying alive, but living somewhere else, to having my right to be utterly nuts, and being left alone. Yeay.... now I am going to drink copious amounts of vodka and go to sleep, much love you to you all, I think somewhere inside all of you are all probably a bits nuts, or wish you could be, that's what makes me love you more x

Vodka...you just got to love it, or love it

Thank you Russia for inventing Vodka

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.

In the clear light of the following day....

some things have become totally clear.
Maybe my blog last night was too honest, maybe a description of what it is like to be 'totallynutty' is not kind to readers, and leaves me vulnerable to lack of understanding and fear from others. But no, friendship has poured in, not just in comments on the bog, but through facebook comments, texts, phone calls and visits.
 My mistake to fear fear.
I am so lucky to have friends who get it.
I am going to open/advertise the blog more widely. What's the worse that could happen? Fear, negativity, lack of understanding, in which case, I just delete it, or remove access to those who cannot be educated in the ways of lunacy!
Thank you to all my friends who are there and support me, and those who do not fear, 'manic defense against chronic dysphoria', love you all x x x and much love to those who don't get it too, it took me years to accept it x

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

Once upon a time.....

....sadly, I have to miss the plot, because it is libellous, and the end isn't happily ever after either.
There are times when 'manic defense against chronic dysphoria', seems not only impossible, but also utterly pointless. Not the writing, the writing helps, but the condition. The fight to remain well against all odds, seems more and more like putting myself in an undefended trench whilst the enemy fire from all sides with ever increasing power.
God, Buddah, my CPN, Psychiatrist, therapists.. etc etc know how hard I try to do the right thing and to stay safe, not only from myself but also from those who have made it their lives work to manipulate, corrupt, abuse and take what they want (you can refer to the entry about fault and blame too!).
But those selfish souls have won, I give in. From now onwards they can do what they want, there is no justice, no end, no closure to this.

I will move far away, away from them all, their memories and their poison, and live in a yurt or a finca, with a few chickens and a goat, and plant seeds. I will write poetry and be regarded as slightly odd by my distant neighbours,so they will leave me alone. Occasionally I will go to an Internet cafe and write my blog, and drink good coffee.

But for now, today, I am taking my house rabbit, Dave, and my tent and I am going to practise living where no one knows me. I am going to go camping. I am going to behave slightly oddly, so that I am left alone. I will drink copious amounts of vodka, and sing loudly, and very badly. I will write my blog on bits of paper bags, and update when I return.

In the meantime I hope you all are well, are loved and are safe.

Much love x

Daizepam days.....

Things got pretty bad, pity really as the sun is shining, so it's off to Diazepam world for two weeks. Please presume nothing intelligent will be written during this time! I may write, but it is likely to be garbage!
Sort of borrowed, stole this cartoon from great site, www.gapingvoid.com the cartoons always seem to touch my soul in some way or another, so as I can not put together a coherent thought this morning, I thought the least I could do was to share the site with you.

Despite reports to the contrary....

it is still bl**dy raining...
So, some chicken soup for the soul, for the awesome daughter and me, before we brave outside.

yumm... nothing's quite as good as homemade chicken soup on a rainy day!

Not insane, not a failure...just trying to do something that matters....

and it doesn't have to matter to everyone else, it just has to matter. I may not change the world, but I have already changed a few peoples minds, and that means all the world to me.

Last Night I dreamt of....

Last night I dreamt of going back.

I often dream of going back, but last nights dream was so vivid. I can still see their faces, they haunt me today.

Friends for a long time....sometimes I think I miss them.

I went back with a sledge hammer, my intention to destroy. But as always, once I got in, readily prepared, tooled up to desecrate their home… I couldn’t. They were there; I was not sure what to feel. They didn’t care if I broke up their home, they didn’t mind as I took aim for the gilded mirror above the fireplace, they wanted to blame me for what they had done, and again, I could not resist the self hate and blame. 

As time passes and I look back on what has happened, the dreams get mixed up with reality, and I am not sure that I didn’t go back last night. I am not sure that it wasn’t my entire fault.

‘Fault and blame’, someone used to say, ‘are the curse of the working class’.  All of their lives are bound up in a them and us, blame, fault and guilt philosophy. Whether it is the schools fault that Johnnie behaves badly in class, politicians fault that the unemployment figures rise, the Councils faults that streets are strewn with litter, anyone else’s fault that their life’s are not more affluent. He asserted that the popular sentiment was that it was always someone else’s fault, and that they never felt responsible for their own life, environment, situation, morals, the consequences of their own choices.

Responsibility is the key I think. We are all responsible for looking after ourselves, and the majority of us are really good at that. But it can come at a cost to the care, welfare and well being of others. David Cameron’s ‘Big Society’, seemed like a good idea, but it is a light touch on what we could really achieve. The idea for the people to run their own libraries, post offices etc. great idea but it was only to cut costs, it is not, as he stated, his great PASSION to create a big society. His great passion seems to be austerity.

This makes me think of compassion. Compassion is an odd one, more complicated than I thought. Compassion is made of empathy, sympathy, kindness, and the big one, strength.  I am sure it is more complicated than that, but if we start with those components.

Empathy, the ability to put ourselves in other people’s shoes and to feel how they might be feeling. Sympathy, perhaps sympathy is a verbalisation of empathy? Kindness, I guess is to care , to be able to listen and give time, to ourselves and others. And strength… strength is so important. It gives us the resilience to carry on, the robustness to encounter difficulties and (manic defense against chronic dysphoria!) come back at it! If we can feel compassion for ourselves, to ensure that we are alright Jack, then how about compassion and responsibility for others?

It is up to me how I behave and what I do.  If I take responsibility for me and the consequences of me and my actions do I have a right to the same from other people, and if so, so do you.

If I am compassionate to you, with all of the elements above, will you show that to me? If I show compassion to myself, will you show compassion to yourself? I think this is the way to a Big Society. Responsibility and Compassion.

So, how does this relate to last nights dream? If they had shown compassion and responsibility, if only to themselves,  I don’t think I would dream of self hate, blame and destruction.

If we could all feel compassion for others and take responsiblity for ourselves, what could we all achieve?

ONE HUGE GREAT BIG SOCIETY!

Of course, this could all just be self serving rubbish, but it's good to write it down, and hell you don't have to read it!

Odd Blog Stats...

Just having a look at the other end of the blog, and noticed a stats page. Apparently, 6% of views are from Russia, 2% from Australia, 2% from China, 1% from Canada and 1% from Germany. There is 24% from USA, but that'll be my little bro'! So where do all these other continents find out about my blog, it is only advertised through Facebook and Twitter.......?

Fighting back... Heroine or Victim?

A few years ago, I started to write a book. The book became two books, the first 'Letters to the Queen' and the second, ' Twenty One Days of Retribution'. Letters to the Queen, detailed my struggle through domestic and sexual violence over many years, and the fight to find justice and closure to it. Twenty One Days of Retribution, describes my fantasies of revenge. Fortunately they remained fantasies or I am sure I would be at the wrong end of the Criminal Justice Service!
A week ago, when I was thinking about how to change attitudes towards mental illness, I found out those books. I have been offered money for them to be published, but I could never bring myself to finish them, there never was any closure. When I looked through the manuscripts I realised that I had changed since I had written them, and the way in which I had portrayed myself was as a victim, has changed. I no longer think of myself as a victim, more of a heroine, after all despite all efforts I am still here, I survived!
I began to re-write the books, thinking that I could change the way in which I portrayed myself. But it was more painful than ever to re-read what had happened, the consequences and how I was when writing those books. I have put them away. Some things are better off not being read, or shared I think!
I am writing the sequel to those books now, 'Going ever so slightly mad', this time it is written as a triumph. A triumph over the abuse, a triumph over those people who believe that writing me off as a nutter and ignoring me would make me go away, a triumph over the Criminal Justice System (secret to be revealed very soon, well probably a couple of months!) I have not yet won myself over and I hope with all my heart to be well soon, in the meantime the demon of vodka, sedatives and cutting remain with me, but I will win. Don't forget, Manic defense against Chronic Dysphoria, I will win!

  

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.

Libellus Famosus

Yesterdays’ blog was found to be libellous, and from a legal point of view not a good idea for me to publish! ; From a personal point of view it was something I needed to write down and would have liked to have published.

However, being a strong believer in Karma, and knowing that what you send out will come back and bite you on the bum; I shall remain silent on this subject in the certain hope that what has been done to me will haunt those who did it BIG TIME!

“By the time the mind is able to comprehend what has happened, the wounds of the heart are already too deep”.....Carlos Ruis Zafon

Hmm… this morning I have written a stonking great blog about discrimination and stigma in the NHS and the Police force, but am taking advice as to whether to publish in its entirety or just a bit of it… some things just don’t need to be shared!

Whooooo......hooooo....massive win, on so many fronts!

According to Facebook and Twitter, I went public, at least I advertised my blog, six hours ago, and now I have been contacted by Mind and Rethink Mental Health, to write for the Time to Change website, oh yes..... wow wow wow, or in the acronym of the younger, OMG OMG OMG..!
Not just as nuts as a nutty thing, but also a published author (nearly) !!!
It's a McDonalds moment, 'I'm LOVING it!'

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo, trying to stay calm, trying to think compassionate thoughts for you, but not doing well..... Uninformed, uneducated, discriminative, bigoted comments will be deleted! But.... I wish you love, peace and safety!

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.

Further diagnosis... more labels please (I liked the last one!)

Turned up at the Psychiatrists office with a bundle of symptoms, a whole load of confusion, damp tissues, overwhelming sadness and an inability to do anything about it. I am never going to talk about why, though the cartoon below explains why some of you might have an inkling as to what happened! Oh alcohol.. how I love its anaesthetic effects, sadly though it also gives me verbal diarrhoea! 

After an hour, I had two more of the lovely labels but this time it was a lot more serious.

Chronic Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and Emotionally Unstable Personality Disorder.

Hmmm...serious stuff. These two disorders now have me permanently retired from the job I love, and unless I find a way of dealing with it, will leave me out of 'gainful employment' for good. But let's deal with the disorders first.

Chronic post traumatic stress disorder, many webistes out there which explain it well:

I think one of the best, which I feel best explains how and what is Wikipedia; http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Complex_post-traumatic_stress_disorder

As for the emotionally unstable personality disorder, it kind of explains itself. I can't control my emotions, therefore when I am sad, I am very very sad. Most of the time, I am ok, but at times I need hospital treatment.

Web link, which kind of explains it best for me;

http://www.mhguidelines-leics.nhs.uk/default.aspx?page=eupd_assessmentdiagnosis

Writing this today, is pretty scary. Telling you what is wrong with me is massive. The external symptoms that you see, the drinking, the scars from cutting are my way of coping with these disorders. The drinking aneathetises me, the physical pain of cutting makes the uncontrollable pain of grief and sadness leave me. There is no attetion seeking in what I do, I do not cut in public, this is a very private way of dealing with myself. If you see the scars and you want to know, please ask. Please dont just fill in the gaps yourself. In the words of Oscar Wilde, 'You can never be overdressed or over educated'.



What on Earth does Manic Defense against Chronic Dysphoria mean?

The first diagnosis I had from my psychiatrist was that I had 'Manic Defense against Chronic Dysphoria'. This sounded pretty technical and medical and I really wasn't sure I wanted to have anything which had the word Manic and Chronic in. I asked for a translation into words of one syllable with three letters, and the response was that I try very hard not to be really unhappy about the stuff which has happened.
Woohooo.... this was amazing. Despite being severely mentally ill, I was trying really hard not to be unhappy. Daft as it might seem, this makes me feel like I am doing really well, and that I will suceed and get better. (Infact I loved the diagnosis so much I used it as my status on Facebook for a while!)

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!