Three Poems I Wrote in Hospital

Here are three poems I wrote while stuck in hospital the other week. I wrote them to help me deal with my situation. Poetry really helps me express myself. I showed them to a select few nurses to help them understand how I was feeling.

Detained again

Detained again

Once more my freedom taken

Locked within four walls

My whole world shaken.

A confused mind

A battle within

Maybe it’s time

I should give in.

A fast flow of thoughts

A constant torrid

My head hurts

From hitting solid.

Needle pricks

On a bum bare

Arms pin me down

How is this fair?

Only four months

Since I was set free

Is this how my life

Is meant to be.

Maybe freedom

Is something I’ll never achieve

The situation at the moment

Is leading me to believe.

Trapped

Caged like an animal

Left to rot

Infinite time

Is all I’ve got.

As here I lay

In my prison like bed

Unkindly thoughts

Swirl through my head.

I was a fool

To end up here

Each day I wake

Each day I fear.

I had my chances

I blew them all

So the doctors

Took their detainment call.

I know it’s my fault

A thought I cannot bare

So for now I am trapped

In the void of a lair.

Keeping It Together

When there is no hope left

And everything around you is dying

Inside you are screaming and crying

But on the outside

Nothing shows you are alive

Just numbness portrayed

Trying is the hardest fashion

You must try

Or declare yourself fit to die

All the while you just want to

Let loose

Express your frustration

Go wild and commit obliteration

Surely there is mitigation?

But no

You must remain calm

Or otherwise you will continue

 To be trapped

Trapped in a nightmare

That is seemingly everlasting

Help!

Help!

Help!

I need someone to rescue me

From myself

From my situation

Before I resign myself

To a life of tormenting incarceration

Help!

Help!

Help!

Or is it just too late?

Brokenmind

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Hospital Part 2: What Happened While There

This is my long overdue blog post about what happened in hospital.

      So I reluctantly agreed to an informal admission and was admitted to an open acute ward. I was placed on level 2 observations which is line of sight. I still hadn’t slept due to being in the cells all night. I was still quite distressed and PRN medication of haloperidol and lorazepam wasn’t helping.  At some point I smashed my head against a window and broke it. I got in trouble for that and was warned if I continued they’d get me assessed under the mental health act and sent to the PICU (psychiatric intensive care unit).  The doctor wrote me up for more medication and I finally went for some sleep. Later on at tea time I secreted a knife from the dining room and stabbed at my arms with it. I was really in state of mind where I just wanted to hurt myself. The day after I requested to leave and was instead detained under a section 5(2). I lost the plot and smashed another window with my head. This time it was the observation window of my bedroom door and the whole window came out so I slashed my arms with some of the glass. This time I was moved to the PICU.

                The PICU wasn’t much better, I was still significantly mentally unstable and after ward round the day after I moved to the PICU I started banging my head against the exit door. I was restrained and dragged down to the extra care unit where I was given an intramuscular injection of what I think was lorazepam. Days went by of me just lying in my bed depressed and then I would become agitated quite badly due to the frustration of it all. I was taking PRN of lorazepam and haloperidol quite frequently. The first week and a bit was all a blur of bed and PRN medication. The only thing I really remember is that on the Wednesday (I was moved to the PICU on the Sunday) my community consultant psychiatrist and CPN came to the ward. My community consultant and ward consultant then told me I was placed on a section 2. I got up and left the room where without even doing anything I was restrained. I was dragged to the extra care unit again. I don’t think I was given an injection this time. My CPN later told me this had upset her to see me like that and that she wanted to come and see me before she left but they wouldn’t let her as I was still in restraint down the extra care unit.

                I pretty much didn’t leave my room for a week and a half except at meal times and cigarette times. I was still on level 2 observations so I had someone with me at all times. One night I was lying in bed and I got told off for picking at my arms. So I hid under the cover and did it. The nurse then took my cover away. I don’t know why but this pissed me off big time. I remember thinking fuck you so I grabbed a pen and stabbed at my arms a few times before being restrained again.  They decided they were going to “sterilise” my room. This meant they took everything and I mean everything out of my room they even removed my sanitary products.  My bed covers were also taken and I was left with just one of those seclusion blankets. This was all done in a matter of minutes while I was in restraint on my bed. There was this nurse who was fairly nice if you were fine but if you got unwell and did something she spoke to you like shit. She said something that upset me so I tried to kick her. They threatened seclusion but never followed through with it.

                The day after was ward round again and I was reduced from level 2 observations to level 3 observations which meant I was just on 15 minute random checks instead of somebody with me constantly. Without the support of that nurse with me constantly I struggled that afternoon. I decided stupidly I was going to break out. I ran down the corridor and straight into the exit door. It hurt quite a lot but it didn’t break. I was restrained and dragged to my room where I was given 2 injections. After this incident I decided I really needed to hold it together for my tribunal I had applied for. I knew if I continued I wouldn’t win it and I wanted to get out so badly. So I tried hard. I started coming out of my room and engaging with other patients. There were a few patients I could talk to but a lot were very unwell and you couldn’t really engage with them. I started approaching staff when I needed to talk and requesting PRN when I needed it. I started writing a few poems to help me deal with my emotions. After a few days I was given 15 minutes escorted grounds leave. It was good to get out for a little walk. I got to go out 2-3 times a day and it really helped just to get out for that little while. In the end it turned out that the holding it together for the tribunal lead to me actually becoming well again. I went from spending all day in my room to spending all day out of my room doing stuff in the space of a week. I was happy and well again.

By the time it got to my tribunal I was almost certain they had to let me go as I had done so well. My solicitor thought I had a good chance too. When it came to my tribunal only the psychiatrist was against my discharge. The nursing staff said I was ready and they gave me a glowing report about how well I was. My CPN said I was ready for discharge too and agreed with me that the crisis was over and that hospital now was counter-productive. As it was ward round day the consultant couldn’t make the tribunal so the staff grade doctor was sent to do it. It was his first tribunal and without trying to be mean he was absolutely shocking. The tribunal panel ate him alive it was actually quite uncomfortable to watch. Even my CPN made a comment about him squirming in his seat and being terrible afterwards. I won my tribunal and they panel made comment about how well I had come across to them. They discharged me from my section on the agreement I stay informally until the day after so I could have my forensic assessment that had already been arranged.

I was buzzing after my tribunal. I was so happy I would be getting out of there. Technically I could have left but I stayed as agreed until the next day. The forensic psychiatrist who assessed me basically said the assessment was pointless now I had been discharged from my section. But we went ahead with it. Some sensitive issues were discussed but I didn’t let them effect me as I was just so happy to be getting out of hospital. After the assessment I waited for my sister to come pick me up and I left. It was such a huge relief. I walked out of that hospital with the biggest smile on my face.  I never want to go into hospital again.

Brokenmind

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Hospital Part 1: How i Ended Up There

So I ended up in hospital again. Here is how the story goes.

                On Friday the 9^th of March I had a CPA. It left me feeling all emotional and horrible. I decided I was going to take an overdose so I went and bought 100 paracetamol. I came home and waited a while before I started taking the paracetamol. I was sick after swallowing 10 due to the fact I have taken paracetamol overdoses in the past and my body can’t hack them. But I persevered. I took a further 30 paracetamol before I was sick again. It was a horrible experience as I kept retching but I was determined. I was really quite distressed at the time. I didn’t want to die I just wanted to make myself really ill like I have been in the past when I have taken paracetamol. After being sick for the 2^nd time I gave in as it just wasn’t working. I turned to cutting myself instead. Then my housing manager was at my door and she saw my self-harm. She came in my flat and I told her I had attempted an overdose. She phoned for an ambulance. I hid my razorblade in my pocket as I hadn’t finished yet. Next thing I know 2 police officers turn up at my flat.

                They came in my flat and I refused to go to hospital. I then slashed at my arm again. The police officers jumped on me and removed the razorblade and placed me in handcuffs. They arrested me for breach of the peace. They called for back up and about 5 minutes later a further 3 police officers turned up. I was still refusing to go to hospital so they decided they would call for a police van. The police van turned up and I was escorted outside. My neighbours were watching as I was dragged out in handcuffs.  I was placed in the back of the police van but I started banging my head on the cage so they jumped inside and restrained me. They decided they would stay in the back of the van with me. They blue lighted me to A&E. That was an experience. We were flying all over the place. Later in hospital one of the officers said it was one of the worst experiences he had had.

                When we got to A&E I tried to throw myself out of the van but they caught me. I refused to go inside so they dragged me in kicking and screaming. There were 6 police officers with me but they soon cut it down to 3. 2 males for restraint and 1 female because apparently they had to have a female. We waited a while before we were seen. I calmed down a little so they put my handcuffs to the front and they took me out for a cigarette. During which one police officer said I was the most normal mad person he had come across. When I needed the toilet I had to have the female officer come in with me and she had to pull down and then up my trousers due to the fact I was in handcuffs. Very degrading indeed. We waited ages to be seen and in the meantime I kept getting distressed again and ended up with the handcuffs to the back. They moved them to the front again when the nurse came to sterri-strip my arm.  Then the doctor came to do my bloods. When she had finished she left the needle in my arm while she went to get a plaster. Due to the fact they had doubled up my handcuffs I had a bit of movement available so I grabbed the needle out of my arm. The officers jumped on me and did some kind of pushing me in the face to get me to drop it. Once again my handcuffs were placed behind me where they stayed until I was taken to the police station. They said I was too much of a risk. My bloods came back OK due to the fact I had thrown all the paracetamol up so I was taken to the police station as a place of safety. We were at A&E 5 hours and all together I spent about 6 hours in handcuffs. My wrists were sore for days after and I had bruising.

                When we arrived at the police station I had to remove most of the stuff I had on including my piercings. A photograph was taken of me and I was lead to a cell. The cell door was left open and 2 police officers and the female detention officers sat outside. It was horrible being in a police cell, I’ve never been in one before. All that was in there was some thin mats and a toilet. I got distressed and started banging my head against the wall. I was handcuffed again and placed in leg restraints for about 30 minutes until I calmed down. The custody nurse came to see me and asked a few questions. Then about 2 hours later a mental health nurse from the single point of access team came to assess me. He basically said that I needed hospital and if I didn’t agree to go in informally he would request a mental health act assessment. I always said I wouldn’t go into hospital again but after some distress and thinking I agreed to an informal admission due to the fact the mental health act assessment wouldn’t take place until the morning and I didn’t want to stay in the police cells all night. I was really annoyed though.

The only bed available was at the big hospital in a far away town which annoyed me further. After a short wait I was taken in a police van to the hospital. It took about 40 minutes. I arrived at the hospital at around 5.30am after no sleep all night. So that is how I ended up in hospital. It was a hellish experience and writing it has made me quite anxious. A post will follow about what happened in hospital as it is too much to write this and then that in one go.

Brokenmind

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Self-harm

A big issue for me right now is my self-harm. It’s bad at the moment. Only 3 weeks ago did I have 27 stitches in my arms and now I have 20. I’ve been doing it on my wrist too which is a really dangerous area. Not just due to the fact you could hit an artery and bleed out but because there are lots of nerves, tendons and ligaments in the wrist. If I got one of them then I could permanently lose sensation and/or movement in my hand. I am very lucky not to have done some permanent damage already. Very very lucky. I did a really deep and big one on my left wrist the other day and I am amazed how I didn’t do any internal damage. I don’t know how to stop though. I really don’t. I get so angry at times and take it out on myself. It’s the only way I know how to cope. I also like the aftercare aspect of self-harm. Tending to wounds can be fairly therapeutic. I suppose in a way my self-harm wounds are one of the few things that enables me to look after myself. I like having a bandage on my arm too. Having something physical as a symbol of all the invisible stuff that goes around in your head. It kind of makes it more bearable.

But when the wounds heal you are left with the mess that are scars. I have more than my fair share of scars and they are hideous. I could not go out in public with my arms showing. I am not looking forward to summer one bit, I never do. I have a love hate relationship with self-harm. I just don’t know when this self-harm will end. Will it ever end? Will it not end until I do some serious damage? Is that what it is going to take to stop me, will that even stop me? Will I end up losing my arm?  It scares me more that I will lose sensation or movement in my hand or something even worse than it does that I may die. I really need to sort out this self-harm problem because I cannot continue like I am. I am just clueless as to what to do.

Brokenmind

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Relationships and Sexuality

This blog entry is going to be about relationships and sexuality . Very current issues for me that I feel I just need to write about. It could get very complicated so I apologise if it doesn’t make sense. But on the other hand you may be able to identify with some of it.

                Where to start? Well on Tuesday I met up with this guy from facebook I've talked on and off with for a few years. I agreed to meet him because I was very elated in mood and needed to do something and all my friends were unavailable. We met in town for a few drinks and he was really lovely. Several pints and jagerbombs later we headed back to my house. He really was a nice guy, not your typical sort of guy. Very caring and understanding. He knew a little bit about the fact I have mental health issues but when we met and after a few drinks I was more open about my mental health. I told him I have borderline personality disorder but he didn’t know much about it. I also told him I self-harm. He told me he has suffered with depression in the past and that he used to self harm too. Back at my house we chilled out and we got on really well. We ended up having sex. Probably shouldn’t have but we did.

A while after I self harmed quite badly because of many reasons really. I felt guilty, angry and confused to name a few of the emotions.  Thing is I have no interest in sex whatsoever. I don’t like it and it doesn’t bother me for having it. I have never engaged in a sexual experience in my life unless when I have been drunk. Even then it’s because I’ve got off with some guy or girl and I just give it them because I know it is what they want. I couldn’t do it sober. I do not enjoy it either and I feel like I am just going through the motions so to speak.

I was angry and confused about it because of the whole sexuality thing. I know I am not straight but I don’t know if I am bisexual, lesbian or even asexual. People tell me it is ok to be unsure but I have this need to know. I think this stems from having the need to be secure with my identity. I think I am lucky for someone with BPD due to the fact I am secure with many aspects of my identity with sexuality being the exception. My CPN suggested today that the need of needing to know is down to the black and white thinking that occurs with BPD. I am or I am not and there is no middle ground. My sexuality is a really big issue at the moment and something I am struggling with a lot.  I have made an appointment with the lesbian and bisexual worker to from this women’s organisation I have recently started attending to discuss it. I probably still will not get any answers but it will probably good for me to talk about it. When I was in hospital I decided one day I was a lesbian. I told my psychologist who thought it was a massive thing. But since leaving hospital in November I’ve had a few experiences with men and I don’t know what it is all about. To say I am confused about everything isn’t enough. But why do I have this overwhelming need to know and be sure? If I was giving advice to someone in a similar position I would tell them it is OK to be unsure but for me I just really need to know.

Another issue for me right now is whether I want to get in a relationship with the said guy. He seems to be really interested in me which brings up issues alone. I hate myself so much that I cannot understand why anyone would like me. It confuses me. I’ve only ever had one relationship in the past which was with another woman and it wasn’t a very pleasant experience. Things got very intense very quickly and then I suddenly went from liking her a lot to hating her.  I felt trapped by the end and felt like I had lost part of who I was due to spending too much time together. It was only a brief relationship of about 6 weeks but boy was it intense. I don’t know if I could put myself through that again. It could have disastrous consequences. But then again it could be fine, it could do me good but I don’t know if it is a risk I am willing to take.  One other issue too; I don’t even know if I want to be with a guy!  Things are just so confusing for me right now and it is really making me hate myself and be angry with myself. I suppose its frustration of the not knowing and not knowing what to do. I had a good chat with my CPN today about some of these issues. I didn’t resolve anything but it was good to talk.

Brokenmind

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My Short Stay in Hospital

My CPN suggested I write a blog about the past week’s events when she came to see me. However I really wasn’t up to it. I am going to try and write it now as I have time to kill and I don’t know what to do with myself otherwise. On Saturday night I got drunk and I felt so low I came home and took an overdose of amitriptyline and chlorpromazine.  After I was declared medically fit by the hospital I was seen by the crisis team Sunday evening. It was the same nurse as I had seen Saturday. She said my thumb was firmly pressed on the self destruct button and that the only option left was hospital. She said I either agree to go as an informal patient or she would request a mental health act assessment. I was still fairly sedated from the overdose and didn’t have the energy to fight so I agreed to go in as an informal patient. I had to wait a bit on the ward before a bed was found. The bed that came up was in the furthest away hospital that is covered by my trust. I was transferred there by ambulance and it was a good 50 minutes away. I had nothing with me except the clothes I had on my back.

                When I arrived it was the usual admission stuff of seeing psychiatrist etc and I went to bed as still sedated from overdose. The day after I was basically left on my own in my room. Nobody came to talk to me; I was just left laying in bed feeling really shit. Around teatime I decided I couldn’t cope with this and asked to leave. They said they had to get the doctor to see me first. I waited for the doctor for a couple of hours. When I saw the doctor I told him I wanted to leave. He said I couldn’t as I wasn’t safe. We argued and I walked off. I went to the exit of the ward and booted the door out of frustration.  I was told I had now been detained. This was for 72 hours and I later learned it was a section 5 (2) which is known as a doctors holding power.  I was angry that I had been detained as I had only got off a 2 year section less than 4 months ago. I went to my room and punched the wall and banged my head a few times as well as punching myself in the face. The charge nurse came and offered me PRN medication but I was unwilling to co-operate with them.        

                After some time of bashing around my room I went to the exit of the ward and started kicking the door. I also put my head through one of the glass panels of the door. I was restrained and dragged to my room where they give me 2 intra-muscular injections; one of lorazepam and the other of haloperidol. I had totally lost control of myself. I had a piece of glass stuck in my head and blood down my face. One of the nurses removed the glass and cleaned my head.  In time I calmed down and they released their hold on me. They told me they would offer me more medication later and if I refused then they would just force me to have it by intra-muscular injection. Again I was left to my own devices in my room without having the opportunity to talk to anybody. Later they offered me more medication and not wanting to be injected again I took it orally. My sister brought me some stuff later on that evening which was a relief as I had been stuck in the same clothes since Saturday, it was now Monday.

                The day after they told me they would remove the section if I agreed to be moved to another ward in another town closer to home. I agreed. All day I was left waiting around wondering when I would be moved. About 6 o clock they came and told me I couldn’t be moved today as the other ward was too chaotic but that there was a bed waiting for me and I would go tomorrow. I was fed up again and asked to leave. The doctor said the same; I would be sectioned again if I didn’t agree to stay. So reluctantly I agreed to stay. The morning after I was moved to the other ward. The other ward was the same. They just left you in your room and ignored you so I requested to leave as I couldn’t cope with it all. This time the doctor listened to me when I said I wasn’t suicidal or going to hurt myself and he said I could leave. I felt huge relief. I think I lasted about 4 hours on this ward before I left. I was given 2 haloperidol to take with me. My sister came and picked me up and took me home. I was so happy to be out of hospital as I couldn’t hack it in there. The whole time I was in I didn’t eat so I got a mc Donald’s on the way home. I was glad to be home but the whole experience had left me feeling uneasy. I will never go into hospital as an informal patient again. You really aren’t there voluntarily as they do not let you go and threaten to section you. I found it more stressful than being under section. If they want me in hospital again then they will have to section me.

Brokenmind

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Big Decision

I have always dreamt of having access to this medication. Enough medication to easily kill me. Faced with this opportunity I am now scared. I have spent many hours and days daydreaming about suicide in my life. Sometimes I have felt like making a dramatic exit such as throwing myself from the Humber Bridge. This has always been a dream of mine and I have toyed with the idea on many occasions. I have indeed been removed by the police on two occasions. But I think deep down I have always wanted an easier way out such as an overdose. I have taken a few overdoses in the half-hearted suicide attempt way, really just wanting to stop the pain and not truly wanting to die. I have dreamt of having access to lots of medication, taking them all and not waking up. I have never had that opportunity before.  But now I do. I have always wanted this, always. Now faced with this opportunity I am unsure if I want to die. I have my bad times, they come and go. I feel suicidal at times, it comes and goes. History has a way of repeating itself and on that basis I know I will have bad times and feel suicidal not just once more but on many occasions in the future. Do I just put an end to all that now while I have the chance?

I’ve not been having the best time lately but I’ve not been at my worst. I have had suicidal thoughts however, only last night while laying in bed pre-sleep I decided I was going home today to kill myself. Well I couldn’t go home and now I am back at my sisters where I am being confronted with this opportunity. Maybe fate has brought me to this opportunity. Maybe these circumstances are a way of the world telling me it is my time to go. Maybe it is fate that took my sister in to hospital and she got given all these medications. Maybe it is fate that my bathroom isn’t completed yet and I’ve had to come back to my sisters for the weekend. Maybe its fate that is taking my sister and the kids away for the night tomorrow so I will be left alone for the night with all this medication.  There are a lot of things there that fall into place perfectly for me to commit suicide. I am sure someone or something somewhere is saying that suicide is what I should do. I don’t normally believe in destiny but maybe to kill myself tomorrow is my destiny.

I have no life and I do not see a life for myself anymore. I definitely feel a high degree of hopelessness.  I am unsure if I can continue living like this when I know that the future holds more turmoil. If I do not kill myself tomorrow will I only end up killing myself in the future? If that is the case then why do I just not save myself the agony of living a few more years and do it tomorrow? I do not see the prognosis for me as being good. I have such a strong hate towards myself that I doubt I can overcome it. I have no real reason for being like this, no dark secret that if I talk about it I will feel better and recover. All this is my own fault and perhaps I do not deserve life. Sometimes I wish I could bottle up life. I wish I could take the life I had in me and give it to someone who deserves it. Somebody who will make better use of this so called “gift” of life.

I suppose it is a case of will I or won’t I. Part of me really wants to but part of me is scared too. I am not going to make a rash impulsive decision. Ending your life should be thought through carefully. Here is one of my favourite quotes from the girl, interrupted book “Suicide is a form of murder - premeditated murder. It isn't something you do the first time you think of doing it. It takes getting used to. And you need the means, the opportunity, the motive. A successful suicide demands good organization and a cool head, both of which are usually incompatible with the suicidal state of mind.”  For the first time in my life I have the means and the opportunity but perhaps the motive is lacking slightly. Usually all I have is a strong motive. There is a motive there though and for once it isn’t a really intense and short lasting motive. It is more of a rational, thought about motive that I have come about after weighing up my life and my possible outcomes. I am unsure if the motive is strong enough at the moment. I really have some thinking to do over the next 24 hour period.

Brokemind

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Self-Harm Poem

I just wrote this poem. It is basically how i feel about my self-harm. What do you think?

I was innocent until I was thirteen.

Then my arms became unclean.

Maybe picking up that razor was a big mistake

But on the inside I was beginning to break.

Things got harder as I got older

I was left on each shoulder a heavy boulder.

The hills got steeper

And I cut deeper.

The scars got prominent

Self harm became dominant.

Now it’s too late

I have sealed my fate.

The blade is too much of a friend

One on which I may always depend.

Brokenmind

x

My Experiences of the Crisis Team

Everyone has different experiences of the crisis team that varies from area to area. I’ve had experiences with two crisis teams. One better than the other. My first experience of the crisis team was in the city where I studied at university. I had been arrested for criminal damage but because I had also self harmed I was taken to hospital where I was bailed under the agreement I see the crisis team. After treatment for my self-harm I was sent to the day ward to wait for the crisis team. I waited from roughly 7-8am until gone 5pm in the evening. The only reason I didn’t leave was because I didn’t know the way out of the hospital as I had never been there before. I just sat there all that time without being offered food or water while being really scared to leave. When this nurse from the crisis team finally came she asked me a few questions for about 10 minutes and that was it. I was sent home. My second experience was back in my hometown after being forced to leave university. I had taken an overdose and after getting discharged from hospital I saw the crisis team for 2 nights before being discharged from their care after seeing the psychiatrist. It was a neutral experience really, not particularly helpful but not especially negative.

My third experience of the crisis team was back in the city where I studied at university after restarting my degree the following year. It was absolutely shocking! I went to an appointment with my student counsellor who was concerned about me. After she couldn’t contact my CPN she got an emergency GP appointment and took me there herself for the GP to to phone the crisis team who said they would be in touch within two hours. My counsellor took me back to the office so she could keep an eye on me and we waited. In the end she couldn’t wait with me any longer and contacted the crisis team. The crisis team told my counsellor they were busy and that someone would see me before 10pm. It was now about 5pm. My counsellor reluctantly sent me home and I waited at home. I think it was about midnight when they finally came. My GP had referred me around 3pm.

                When they finally came it was pointless. I think they stayed around 10-15 minutes and were exceptionally unhelpful. The day after they came again, again only staying around 15 minutes in which time they laughed and joked with each other and told me I would feel better if I had a job. I was struggling to manage with university as it was, so getting a job was the last thing I should/could’ve done. After this unhelpful and anger provoking experience I told my CPN I would never see them again. After sometime and me being stubborn in the fact I would not see the crisis team my CPN at the time made an agreement that in times of distress I could contact the A&E liaison team (a.k.a the self-harm team) which operated separately from the crisis team. Their job was to basically see people in A&E after an episode of self-harm and make the necessary referrals. I had a much better experiences with them and had built up relationships with some of the nurses due to my frequent attendance at A&E.

                The following year things got way too much for me. My CPN who I had developed major attachment issues with was on annual leave. One night my head was such a mess and the only people available were the crisis team. I phoned them as I was desperate. What followed was my worst experience of the crisis team. It started off ok but then they just bluntly started asking really personal and triggering questions. Questions that were very sensitive and shouldn’t be asked  over the phone. I hung up and took it out on myself. What resulted was my worst ever episode of self harm. I went to hospital via ambulance and while there had to be looked after by police I was so messed up mentally. At one point I ended up being restrained by the police because i was so distressed. I was transferred from hospital to another hospital with a plastic surgery unit. From there I was admitted informally to a psychiatric unit. I still rightly or wrongly blame this on the crisis team and how they handled me that evening. Never in my life will I use the crisis team in that city again. I still have a strong hate for them over 2 years later.

                That hospital admission lead to me being sectioned for two years. Afterwards I moved back to my hometown. After being out of hospital a week and a half one of my CPNs said she wanted me to see the crisis team for extra support. Well now they had rebranded themselves to the intensive home based treatment team, I still refer to them as the crisis team because that is what they essentially are. I was apprehensive to say the least. I was not impressed to start with but their care became better and in the end I built up a good relationship with two of the workers over a three-four week period. The other nurses were not brilliant however and I found their visits pretty pointless and unhelpful.

                Again last week I was referred back to the crisis team. Again my experiences with those two workers has been good but not with the others. Last Friday when they came out to see me they told me they would call at 10am the next day. They didn’t and I ended up being stressed out all day waiting for their call. It finally came at 4.30ish and when they came out to see me it was pretty pointless. Today I met with one of the good workers and I had a really positive meeting. I feel she is the only person that understands me at the moment. I actually wish that she and the other worker were part of my regular care team.

                So experiences with the crisis team can be good but they can also be disastrously bad. I have heard so many times from people in different areas of the country of how bad crisis teams are. They do repeatedly let people down which is really quite bad as crisis teams are there to help people when they are at their worst and in most need. Quite often crisis teams can make things worse but on some occasions they can be helpful. It is all very hit and miss. I guess as a service any crisis team will never be perfect. I guess it is the nature of their service. What are your experiences of the crisis team?

Brokenmind

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Low Points Of My Life Due To My Mental Health

I’ve been thinking about writing this blog post for a while and I thought I would do it now seen as though I feel crap and I need to distract. Maybe the subject is not the best thing to write about but maybe writing about bad times in the past will distract away from the current bad time I am going through.

So this blog is going to be about my 5 all time low experiences because of my mental health. They are not in a particular order as I don’t think you should rank things like these.

1.       Seclusion

The first time I was in seclusion was horrible. I was a patient on a PICU and I can’t even remember what I had done but they decided to put me in seclusion. I remember being dragged in whilst in restraint. They laid me on the mat and ran out closing this huge metal door behind them.  The room was bare except this big purple mat. I cried and cried and cried. It was a massive shock as I had never been locked in a cell or anything similar before. I wasn’t in long as I think they could tell it was distressing me significantly. It was about half an hour but it did feel like a lifetime at the time. I came out still crying and a nurse even offered to hug me I was so upset but then another one jumped in and said he couldn’t. I was in seclusion numerous times after that, my longest stint being over 24 hours. It still upset me for a while but after the 10^th or so time I had become desensitised to it. The first few times were horrid and the feelings you get from being locked up in seclusion are indescribable. You are utterly powerless. As a criminal locked in police cells and the like you have rights. As a mental health patient in seclusion you have none. No right to see a solicitor or to challenge being locked up. You can be in there for an unlimited time; it’s up to the doctors when they let you out. You feel total and utter powerlessness. I wouldn’t wish the experience of seclusion on my worst enemy. I wrote this poem after a period in seclusion once.

 There is a room with nothing there

Just a great big door and walls that are bare.

The only thing that fills the space

Is my broken mind and the tears that rush down my face.

Anger fuelled by torment and distress

The walls begin to move and my mind they compress.

With no way out it’s hard to cope

So once again in life you begin to lose hope.

With thoughts racing it’s hard to know what to feel

Someone please save me this cannot be real.

I pray that this is all an illusion

But as my head hits the wall, I know it’s real...

...I know this is seclusion

May I also add that one evening I was secluded in somebody else’s filth for a few hours. This guy had seriously assaulted a nurse and smashed his jaw to pieces and therefore had been placed in seclusion for over a week until a bed was found at a more secure hospital. That morning he had been moved. I was secluded in the evening and they hadn’t cleaned the seclusion room. As I was being dragged in other nurses were clearing out all the rubbish. When I was locked in it stank and there were bits of food everywhere. Not to mention the invisible dirt that was no doubt in there like sweat and urine. It was disgusting. How can they lock you up in somebody elses filth? Very degrading.

2.       A&E

One time I was in A&E after an episode of self harm. I was accompanied by the police. I remember getting agitated by the way the A&E staff were treating me as well as the police. I decided to leave. I went to walk through the door and the police grabbed me. There was a struggle. I ended up in handcuffs and leg restraints and laid on this mat on the floor the nurses had brought in. I was laid on this mat and all my bandages had come off in the struggle. I was left in handcuffs and leg restraints lying in my own blood for a good while. I was crying. Would they have left an animal lying in their own blood like that? It makes me feel sad when I think about this. It was a very low point in my life. They had also during the struggle placed me under section 136. Afterwards they just took that away and said I could go if I saw crisis team. So was all that even necessary? No it fucking wasn’t.

3.       Transfer from hospital

Again this incident involves the police. Surprised? I had been an inpatient for a about a week and a half. I’d just been transferred from the assessment unit to an open treatment unit. I had been there a few days and I was very mentally unstable. Another patient had destroyed something I had been working on all day in the craft room so I went and found her and threw a jug of water over her in the dining room. An argument followed and then I went to my room. About an hour later 2 nurses came into my room and told me to pack my things. I asked why and they told me I was moving back to the hospital I’d just moved from. I was confused and asked them why I was moving back to the assessment unit and they said I wasn’t. The other unit there was the PICU and I had previously been told that is where violent people go. I was scared and said I didn’t want to go there so I got out of bed and walked out of my room. 2 police officers were waiting for me and they threw me into the wall. I banged my head and I was then wrestled to the floor and cuffed. By this stage I was hysterically crying from the shock and brutality of it. All I had done was walk out my room. I hadn’t been violent or anything. The hospital was on lock down so they must have been prepared for it for some reason. I was dragged through the hospital down the stairs and thrown into the back of a police van. By the time I reached the PICU I was in a right state. I was placed in open seclusion (the outer bit and not the locked cell) and given medication to calm me down. I will never forget this experience ever. I am still shocked and angry about how they treated me. I was a mental health patient not a criminal.

4.       Being “line of sight”

After being in hospital a year I became significantly unwell again. After an incident of restraint and me stabling myself with a pen I was placed on 2:1 observations. For the first time I was placed on “line of sight” in the bathroom. This means the 2 nurses on my observations had to watch me in the bathroom basically. It was horrid. They watched me on the toilet and I think you’ll agree having a poo is a private thing so having not one but two people watching you is very degrading. It was a fairly distressing thing to do too. I really didn’t want to but I suppose when you got to go you got to go. Having my first shower on “line of sight” was an unpleasant experience too. I am very self conscious about my body and having two people watch you fully naked is not an enjoyable thing. Being in hospital kind of makes you desensitise to exposing your body, you definitely lose your dignity when unwell.

5.       Being IM’d in public

I was in restraint one day in the PICU and I was really distressed and struggling back. I was in the corridor of the communal area which was for both male and female patients of the ward. They dropped me on the floor and continued restraining me. Everyone was watching me including male patients when they pulled my pants down and injected me. Surely this should have been a private event. Its bad enough being IM’d without others seeing it happen to you and seeing your bare arse. How did this make me feel when I had calmed down? Embarrassed, ashamed and feeling like a total twat. Afterwards people were like “oh H that was good, you are crazy” blah blah blah. It wasn’t good, it was awful. Any occasion of being IM’d is an unpleasant experience but this was the worst.

There are other bad experiences i've had due to my mental health, but these are the ones that have made me feel the worse. alot of them when i think about them make me feel sad and angry.

Brokenmind

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Psychologist's Assessment

I wasn’t expecting much from this psychology assessment I had today. All I really expected was for me to give my life history, he tell me I need therapy and then he further tell me the waiting list is 12-18 months. Well surprisingly it was much better than that. I came away happy and I felt like I had actually got somewhere with services for a change.

                I was anxious before I went in, I was sat in the waiting room nervous but I kind of had figured how it was going to pan out. Maybe that’s what made me nervous. I’ve had six assessments by psychologists in the past. Two in the community before hospital and four in hospital, why would the seventh be any different? You talk about yourself, its hard and then you come away feeling dejected and more often than not feeling worse than you did before. I thought I would have an issue with him being male but I didn’t. I would have before hospital but being in hospital you get used to all the male nurses and doctors and I think I learnt I could get along with males.

                He started off asking me how I’ve been since hospital. I said I’d had difficulties at the start with self-harm and overdosing but that now I am managing that but I suffer with my mood still. We moved onto when I first started experiencing difficulties and I told him it was when I was 13 and described what they were. He asked if anything had happened around that age. At first I said no but then remembered something little. I told him what it was in little detail. I dismissed it as nothing much but he thought it was big. He said it was an attempted rape but I denied that. He asked me if I was to accept that it was an attempted rape, how would that make me feel. I said I don’t know because it wasn’t. We moved on through my life explaining how I was and various incidents that occurred. We discussed my old CPN V and what lead up to me being sectioned. We talked about family relationships and other relationships. We discussed how I felt about myself. We also talked about other stuff too but I cannot remember.

                He then said the session was coming to a close. He told me what he thought which was the first time a psychologist had ever done that. He told me that I have dismissed all the things that have happened to me in my life. I see them as unimportant. It then leaves me confused about why I feel and behave like I do. This makes me angry at myself and I think I am bad. I get trapped in a cycle of shame and guilt which further leads me to behave like I do. As a consequence I punish myself. He then goes on to say that services have also then further punished me by labelling and locking me up without getting to the bottom of why I feel and behave like I do. He said he has read lots of reports about me and that only one had a little something written in about what he classes as the attempted rape. He says there is lots of blame on me.

                When I heard this I was surprised. I felt a sense of relief that someone had finally explained something to me about me.  Also surprised that perhaps he understood me well. . It made me feel sad because if it were the truth it is a very sad situation. It kind of made me want to hug this person he was talking about and tell them everything would be ok. I felt sorry for this person he was talking about but I don’t know if I could accept that it’s me. Maybe it is me but I do find it hard to accept. I suppose it just felt good that he attempted to understand me and actually tell me what he thought at the end. Nobody has ever done that before. He said he was going to speak to a colleague about me who specialises in a type of therapy that is based on relationships. He didn’t tell me the name of it. He said he would get back to me. I hope its good news.

Brokenmind

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