This morning...

have woken up cross and with what MOMD calls my 'grumpy pants' on. I do not want to get out of bed, and convince myself that as there is a lion on the loose, it is better not to get up, but just to stay here and not encounter the lion of Essex, realising of course that Essex is many hundreds of miles away, but better safe than sorry. Gloom, on reading the news to discover that the lion of Essex turned out to be a large ginger tom cat and that all is well. Try to find other reasons not to get up... I know that the reason I really don't want to get up is that I have to go to heart and soul bearing therapy, and that I really don't want to go... have stern word with myself, and carefully remove foot from under warm and cuddly quilt to see if it is warm enough to get up....bahhh... it is, and I scoot to kitchen to make strong coffee and make pot noodle for breakfast. Ha, the flippin' sun is shining, well that might tempt me out, but still not sure about therapy. It is the last one of the compassionate mind therapies today. I have bought a card for the pyschologists who are running it, but feel I should go buy flowers or something. Then argue that this is their job so why should I? Guess they might expect me to say thank you with flowers and card and end up in muddle. Take coffee and pot noodle back to bed... stuff the sunshine, I am staying here.

Dream of living on a deserted island, just me and endless beaches... but no kettle, no coffee and no pot noodles, huh... dream turns into nightmare, and I decide to arise from from my pit.

Stuff countless pills in mouth and swallow with strong espresso, wait for things to seem better... no, not working.... hmm, maybe if I go and sit on step and have a quick fag, things will appear better, but cigarette makes me feel sick...back to bed, swallow sleeping tablets and give up....there is no pit, there are no dragons, but maybe the most compassionate thing to do is just to give today a miss and wake up tomorrow.

Medication.. the pros and cons

....before I begin, please please remember this is my point of view. I have no medical qualifications, and speak only as a user of medication, not a prescriber, or anyone who has any knowledge of pills and potions, only my own thoughts.

I take a variety of tablets each day. One anti-depressant, one beta-blocker, three anti spasmodics (for epilepsy) two to four sleeping tablets, and I have a variety of pills to take when things get a bit tricky and I feel awfully awful.

If you read back a while in the Blog, you will see the post where I decided to stop taking all of them. I did this as a reaction to an assault, which I can't speak of, as what I say becomes both evidential and possibly libellous. I stopped taking the medication as after the assault, I had a conversation in my brain, to work out what had just happened and that it wasn't with my consent. The conversation was a long one, which afterwards I realised I had little, to no control of what my brain was doing, which at the time, wasn't much.

So, I stopped taking them and for about three weeks, everything was great. I felt euphoric, well, in control of me, and actually happy. I thought of the medication I had been taking as actually a big con', it hadn't made me well, it had just numbed me, maybe prevented me from being well, of repairing properly, it was just just an anaesthetic.

Then the sh*t hit the fan, overdose, cutting, being detained by the Police, and I wanted to go back onto them, the realisation that I really wasn't very well, and that the medication had been prescribed for a reason. Of course the reason I had been so well for those three weeks afterwards is the 'half-life' of the pills, the time the medication is still in the blood, although I wasn't taking it.

Of course there are huge drawbacks with the medication I have. First, I really really can't drink, secondly they make me hugely hungry and therefore I have put on a vast amount of weight. Thirdly, I can't quite get the amount of tablets to take at night quite right. The anti-spasmodics make me sleepy, and so do the sleeping tablets. Sometimes, the following day I really can't wake up properly all day, not good. I have a  rash of tiny blisters on my pulse points, this is probably a side effect of the beta blockers. I get incredibly hot, this could be a reaction to the tablets, or it could be the early onset of menopause! I could go on, but the main thing is that it has been  twenty four days without self harm and nine days without vodka, so I think I will keep on keeping on with the pills and potions, they must be working!

The Anti-Wedding Anniversary Day......

Today would have been my 26th wedding anniversary.I didn't make it that far, I ran away. Today brings mixed feelings, huge grief for what I have lost, and massive strength from what I have gained.

I cannot bring myself to think about the losses, therapy, psychology etc. etc. cannot bring me to discuss or think about them, I know where I go when the losses come to me, and it is not a good, safe place to be, you know where I go, Police cell, hospital bed, the depths of the pit of doom.

But, what have I gained? I guess that now, when I can combat the internal battle, that I am safe now. I choose my friends carefully, will be more carefully after I have been on the course the Police have got planned for me, I can't remember what it is called, but it is to make me more aware of abusive behaviours, what is right, what isn't right within a relationship, friendship, lovers etc., so that I can see who is being abusive before it becomes a criminal offence I guess.. Oh it is called 'Pattern Changing', and will apparently make me have more self esteem and confidence, rock on that sounds good.

So, today is full of mixed emotions. Have decided that instead of having another rotten day, I will make today my 'anti-anniversary day', and go and have fun. The sun is sunny, the bunny is happy, I will go to the Barbican and have a womble around the charity shops and find some fabric to make an anti-anniversary patchwork cushion. Nikkinoccynoo has lent me her sewing machine, so I will have a go, and make something positive and punchable! Heh heh heh, oh yes, punchable!

Alcohol, numbness and the dragon......

PTSD and abuse of alcohol go hand in hand states a government report. Up to 75% of people who have been involved in a traumatic, life threatening events will go on to abuse alcohol, or other drugs. The reason for this is the numbness and anaesthetic effects that, for me, alcohol brings. I no longer have the battle between the petulant and persistent threat system which tells me that I am not safe, and the healthier me that knows that everything is pretty much ok. There is no battle, no winner, no loser, just no battle. Having no battle is great, there are no feelings, no exhausting mental play of what could happen next and what has already happened, just numbness.

Physically I have been checked to make sure that my liver and blood count are ok, and I am doing just fine. I have strongly defined rules for my drinking, I drink between seven oclock in the evening until nine oclock in the evening, that means, using the the formulae of units and time to process those units, I am fit to drive early the following day. Mentally, alcohol is a depressant, and the following day can bring some very low times... but alcohol, or vodka in my case, bring blessed sleep, and escape from it all. Without vodka equals no sleep, even with sleeping tablets, no sleep.

But this vodka dragon has to be slayed, I don't really want to slay it, as I can't see an alternative, but it has to go.
Why....? Well my drinking has to be logged this week, each milli unit of vodka, logged. If my drinking doesn't come within, what I guess are acceptable parameters, then I will be reported to the DVLA as having a drinking problem. The result of which I guess is removing my driving licence and that, I promise you isn't going to happen.

This does make me very angry. I do not drink and drive. But the threat is removal of my driving licence unless I stop drinking (and yet, my alcohol use is defined by the medical profession as self medication).  Well, I had  better be locked up now, as I am going to have to go food shopping later, and I might shoplift something, that is as unlikely as me drink driving, but hell, I have already been  locked me up for five hours in a Police cell when I had done nothing wrong, so I don't know why I am looking for any kind of bloody logic.

So, last night I did not sleep.... that's ok, not a problem, no vodka = no sleep. Today, feeling ok, just tired. Lack of motivation to slay the washing up dragon, the washing machine dragon, and the hoover dragon, but I will just sit and watch rubbish on the tv. I don't think I will risk going to Sainsburys and buying any food, just in case the Police feel the need to lock me up for potentially being capable of shoplifting.....grrrr..... bring it vodka dragon, you are nearly slain, and that only by own anger at this bizarre society we call humanity.

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.