Mental Health // Do They Really Care?

I’ve always been an avid writer. Whenever I’m going through a hard time or struggling to voice thoughts in my head, I turn to writing. It just works better than having the thoughts bubbling away and culminating into something that I can avoid. Recently, I’ve been struggling to even put pen to paper and use writing as an escape. I’ve argued with myself about this many times, whether writing a blog post about it was the best idea. I’ve even listed the pro’s and con’s, thought about what I really wanted to get out of this and it all boiled down to one thing. Awareness. That’s all I want, so that’s why I’ve decided to bite the bullet and tell you all about my experience in the hope that it raises awareness, clears my mind and maybe even help some of you. It's not something I've really told to anyone and the only person who knows the full story is the poor sod who has to live with me. My partner, Burnie. 

 If you’ve followed my blog in the past, it has been well documented that I have Generalised Anxiety Disorder. Now, this isn’t a post where I’m going to explain every little detail about it. I only want to talk about my experience over the past 6 months, focusing mainly on the past few weeks. At the end of the day, I can’t sit back and let this slide because in all honesty, I’m infuriated at the treatment – or lack of – that I have received. So, I’m going to start from the very beginning, something Julie Andrews claims is a very good place to start ... and we would all do well to follow that advice.

Around 6 months ago, something happened in my life that has brought back so many demons from my past. Things that I had done very well to sweep under the carpet and claimed that I had ‘dealt’ with it. It's not something I want to disclose over the Internet, not just because it's a very private thing for me, but also because I don't even feel ready to talk about it myself. I've suffered from anxiety as long as I can remember and I always seemed to have a pretty good grasp on it. Don't get me wrong, I've had my bad patches, but I always managed to make it through the other side. Because of the said event that happened, my mental health plummeted and I eventually, hit rock bottom. 

It was a Monday. I woke up and knew straight away that I couldn't go to work and I needed to go. Go where? I had no idea at the time, I just knew I needed to get out. Everything became way too much inside my head and I needed to run. That used to be the best coping mechanism for me but it slowly became the worst thing to do. I got out of bed, got dressed and sat with a cup of coffee and attempted to plan where to go. Burnie text me as he always does every morning, and I told him I didn't make it to work and I had to go. The rest of the day, even now, is a blur. I remember snippets of what happened, I remember Burnie constantly texting and ringing me, I remember getting lost in some woods and then I found myself stood by a bridge. Isolated. I'm not going to go into detail, but I'm sure most of you can assume what was going through my mind. I spent the whole day convincing myself that I was never going to get better, my past would always haunt my future and everyone would be better off if I wasn't around. I had endless panic attacks that eventually sent me over the edge. Because of what I was saying to Burnie and how I was acting, he managed to persuade me to go back to my GP for an emergency appointment. At that point, I'd already given up hope of getting any sort of help. I'd been on a waiting list for months, I'd been to a stress control course, I was passed from counsellor to counsellor as a child. Nothing worked and nothing will. This is where I want you all to really pay attention.

When I went to the emergency appointment, I really didn't want to talk, my mind was still in that 'bad place'. Because of this, again, I can't recall everything that got said although I do remember the GP being very matter of fact and stern with me, so I did admittedly became really wound up by it. He had conversating with Burnie and sgain, he pushed medication on me, something that infuriates me beyond belief, but we'll get to that. The result of the appointment was The Crisis Team being contacted and being told to take time off work. My GP told me that he wasn't comfortable leaving it there and organised for someone to contact me that evening. I didn't even know what The Crisis Team was for and to be honest it was the first time I'd ever heard of them. Now I know that it's a group of people who are called out in a mental health emergency to give you immediate 'help and support' and put you on the right track. I wasn't putting my eggs into one basket, and I'm glad I didn't but I co-operated just because. What else did I have to lose? 

That evening, I got a phone call from a member of the Crisis Team. The first thing they suggested was medication. Again, infuriating. I know deep down that medication will never do me any favours. I know, in myself, that my issues cannot be masked or eased by a pill I take everyday. It's all psychological and it's something that I have been so stubborn about my whole life - I have always refused medication, and I always will. It baffles my mind that even now, in the 21st century, medication is seen as something that solves issues mentally. Don't get me wrong, it's a lifesaver for some people, but you know your mind and body better than anyone right? And over the past 10 years or so, I have become sick and tired of professionals trying to feed me medication and move me along instead of getting me the correct help I need. But anyway, where was I? 

The woman arranged a home visit the next day to which a lady came round in the morning. She asked me about my mood, asked me how I was feeling, asking what I wanted to get out this. Basically, she was building up a 'case'. We spoke about things and it was concluded that 4 things would happen. She would send me for a medical assessment at the hospital to see what medication would benefit me (GRRR!), she would send out leaflets and self help information through the post, she would arrange a psychiatric assessment and finally, come out and see me later on in the week. I haven't seen or heard from this woman since. 

Fast forward to the Thursday, and I was sat in a small room in the hospital speaking to a Psychiatric Specialist. It took 10 minutes of me explaining my situation for him to conclude that I didn't need medication ... HALLE-FUCKING-LUJAH! Finally, I had found a Dr who really understood and heard where I came from. He told me that I needed Psychotherapy and I was to ring IAPT to transfer to my local waiting list. Being told that I didn't need medication because all of my issues could be solved with therapy and he didn't feel comfortable giving me any because of my age ... It was a huge weight lifted. But, the only weight lifted, because this is where it really goes downhill. 

I came home and for the first time in months, I felt slightly optimistic. I felt like maybe things were starting to come together. I rang IAPT to transfer over and join their waiting list for Psychotherapy and let me just say, the woman I spoke to was bloody useless. She had no idea that I was already on the system, that I had been referred and basically shushed me off the phone. I then, feeling super confused, decided to ring the Crisis Team again to get an insight on what was going on, how far they'd got with my treatment, whether they'd organised the psychiatric appointment. I rang on the Saturday and was told that there was nothing on my case record to suggest I had even attended the hospital appointment. There was nothing to suggest that I had been referred to IAPT. The woman I spoke to also wasquite baffled at the fact that I hadn't heard of or seen anyone from their side. I then had to wait until Monday to try and find out what the bloody hell had gone wrong. 

Monday came around, I went back to my doctors (a different one now, as I'd changed location) and asked what was going on. It'd been a week since my 'mental breakdown', if you will and nothing. She was just as oblivious as me. Nothing had come through and there was nothing on my record suggest anything that had happened in the last week. No note to say I was suicidal, not note to say I'd been referred to the Crisis Team, no note to prove my attendance to the mental health department at the hospital, no note to show that I didn't need medication. NOTHING. She instructed me to go home and wait for the phone call from the Crisis Team. I got home, I got the phone call. They discharged me from their service. It was a 56 second conversation which I can still remember now. Baring in mind this is a group of people who are supposed to HELP in a mental health emergency. 
"Hi Melissa, I've looked at your file and your case worker Sue feels it's OK to discharge you from our service. We are aware that you need Psychotherapy and you don't need medication however she feels the Psychiatric assessment isn't necessary as it's only short term and you need long term. We also spoke with the doctor you saw at the hospital and he was unaware that he had to pass the information back onto us. Is this OK?"
IS THIS OK??? Is it OK that I was promised the psychiatric appointment and now it's not happening? It is OK that I've been discharged without being checked upon? Is it OK that literally NOTHING has been done to help me? That no-one knows what the bloody hell they're doing with me? I could have been lower than ever before and they would have been none the wiser. And the saddest part about all of this, is that my first reaction wasn't anger, like it is now. It was more like 'Right OK, well that's that then'.It didn't shock me because I knew. In the meantime, a member of the IAPT team contacted me and left a voice mail. That was 2 weeks ago. I have rung back and left numerous messages. I haven't heard anything, despite the last phone call I had resulted in them telling me someone will be in touch that day. That was a week ago now. 

That Monday was the worst day of my whole life. It's now 4 weeks later and I'm still off work. 4 weeks later and the only thing that has come out of this is that I'm on a waiting list that is 4 months long. Something that was already the case before all of this. I have heard from no-one. I haven't heard from IAPT, the Crisis Team, anybody. And I hate to say it, but I could be dead in a ditch right now and they wouldn't know. These past 4 weeks have been the hardest of my life. I've struggled every single day with my disorder and the complete lack of self esteem that I'm dealing with. I've run away, I've had suicidal thoughts, I've isolated myself and pushed away those I loved. I've been a pretty horrible person to live with (Sorry, B!) and acted in ways that really isn't me. And it isn't. This isn't me, I know I'm still there, but it feels like this illness is really doing it's damned hardest to take over. But I won't let it. I can't let it. 

The whole point of this post is that at the end of the day, I feel abandoned by the NHS. I feel forgotten about. I feel like that I will never get the help I need. My God, there is nowhere NEAR enough funding for Mental Health by the Government and there isn't enough training there either. The lack of communication between ALL of the services I've encountered has been nothing short of clumsy laziness. Here's a fun fact; Burnie found out that to every 100,000 people living in Yorkshire, there is only 5 Psychiatrists. FIVE. How is that OK? It isn't. I cannot tell you how disheartening it is to know that those who are paid to help, aren't. because there isn't enough. Something has to change. 

Thank you so much if you've read all this, I know it's super lengthy. I just want awareness of how we are being constantly failed by the system. Mental Health is way more important than physical health and the sooner the Government and NHS realise that, the better. It's time to speak out about it. Not just about Mental Health, but how - excuse my French - fucking shit the system has become for those who suffer with it. And hell, if I need to be a spokesperson for it, bring it.

I want to say a huge HUGE thank you to all of my friends who have stuck by me and most importantly, my lovely boyfriend Burnie. Without you, I wouldn't be here - still fighting, still going. You have been such an unwavering support and I could never put into words just how much I appreciate and love you.

Right, now I've got that off my chest, hello! I'm back. I've finally decided to give this blogging thing another go and really try to stick to it. Until next time, follow my other social media's and stay tuned. 

All my love, M x

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