"You're not in crisis this is normal now"

I was assessed yesterday for being in a mental health crisis. I have felt in crisis since end of January. All the symptoms and signs that for me mean crisis have been present every day since January. I haven't had one good day since then. When beingnassessed today I asked for some support from the Home Treatment Team (crisis team) because this is not normal for it to go on this long and I need help to get back to my normal to have a hope of helping myself. The help and support I'm currently getting clearly isn't working and something need to change to help me get better. 

I was told I'm not in crisis because it wouldn't last this long. This is just normal for me now. So they are just going to get my care coordinator to phone me on Monday and keep things the same. The care coordinator who has been in charge of my care all this time and literally says to me there is nothing she can do to help me. 

To be told I'm not in crisis do you have any idea how much those words hurt? I'm at rock bottom and in deep despite everyday and can't see a way out. If this is normal, if this is my life now I just 100% don't want it. How can someone tell me I'm not in crisis? How can they invalidate me so much to say that? These words make me feel completely hopeless that things will ever get better. What about freedom of speech and the right to have an opinion. If I feel I am in crisis, that should be respected, that's how I feel, I'm allowed to use the words I feel most appropriate to describe my distress. I didn't know you were actually inside my head and could know these things better than I can.

I was also asked in this assessment "when are you going to take responsibility and help yourself?" You have no idea how hard I try every day. You have no idea how much I battle in my own head every damn day. How dare you say that. If I was capable of just getting myself out of this, clearly I would have done it by now.  This pain I feel everyday is torture, relentless never ending torture, clearly if I could I would. Then they went on about meeting them in the middle which is what I always do a bit of both them helping me to help myself. Yet still I'm left with the worst ever care coordinator and nothing else.  

I'm exhausted. 

TW: What actually happens when you ask for help

To all the lucky ones who've never struggled with their mental health I'd like share with you what actually happens when you ask for help. To the people who share mental health awareness posts saying to tell someone, who think that's the answer. Read on to find out what happens in the UK when you do admit to feeling suicidal. And just how completely broken our mental health services are. Because the help just does not exist.

This is me sharing what needs to be shared in support of recent news.

For those who know me personally I am doing a little better at the moment and after 5 solid weeks of crisis I finally was listened to and given some extra suport. I write this honestly because it needs to be said. Right now this is not the place I am in so no one needs to worry. But this is unfortunately a place I am in far too often and it is not treated with the care and compassion it deserves.

The first time I ever attempted suicide and spoke to mental health at a&e, I was given some leaflets for self help and my gp upped my antidepressants then I was sent on my way. After a few times I was referred to what's called the home treatment team who are a crisis team and high intensity, they come and visit you at home every day or every couple of days and support you shor term through the worst. The first time I was referred to them by the hospital mental health team. They phoned me the next day when I was at home and told me, not asked me, that I didn't really want them to come to my house so they were going to just discharge me. This was in 2011. When I was 19. I was dismissed and just discharged and denied help for repeated suicide attempts. Now, 10 years later I'm no better and services are even worse. Im no better not for lack of asking for help but because services just don't exist. I've had recent conversations with the mental health team at a&e where they've said they want to help me but there is nothing they can do. 

I'm now potentially going to get a criminal record for my suicidal behaviour if things happen again. No support to help me to stop things happening again, but forced to sign a contract so say I agree to not do it again or I'll be prosecuted. How can I sign a contract with police that basically says I agree to not be suicidal? This is the extent of the problem with mental health and lack of understanding. If it were that simple, if it were a choice, I wouldn't still be like this 10 years later. It actually is laughable this contract it tells me to agree to phone Samaritans instead of doing risky behaviour. Oh yes a phone call to Samaritans and my life is just completely better and I don't feel suicidal anymore! That is really not how it works. 10 years since my first attempt that clearly isn't how it works. These people in charge of these things clearly don't get it at all.

I've begged for help from mental health services because I'm out of control and can't keep myself safe, and been escorted off hospital property by security guards, kicking and screaming.

I've attempted to hurt myself on a hospital ward and had the mental health team called who simply told me to leave if I was going to behave in that way.

I phone for some emotional support and compassion from the mental health team and get told to have a bath.

I cry down the phone that I can't cope I can't keep myself safe and get told "well you're going to have to cope you don't have a choice".

If only it were that simple.

The power of being "heard"

 I've spent the last 5-6 weeks in complete crisis. I've sank lower and lower when I didn't think things could get any worse. I've asked for help over and over and been refused. I've been told I just need to get through it on my own. Been sent home absolutely distraught and unable to breathe for crying.

In the last week I have had two separate assessments. And in both of these I was simply heard by professionals.  Nothing has changed. Nothing is any different in my life. All the triggers and stress and pressure is still there. But I was truly heard. The professionals helped me to feel safe and calm in the situation and were open to listening to me, truly listening to me and hearing what I was saying. They saw the person in front of them in pain and gave her the space she needed. 

I'm now hopefully, finally getting some more support. 

But right now that almost doesn't matter. I feel better. I feel lighter. I feel like I've shared the burden and some of it has been lifted from me simply by being heard. What I said mattered to them and they really wanted to listen and take it in and check with me they understood by repeating things to back with me. They were caring and empathetic. They gave me the time to speak, time to be upset if I needed to and gather my thoughts. 

I wish all mental health professionals could read this and know that this is all we ask for. To be heard. The amount of times I've had assessments or conversations with workers when its clear they aren't going to help me at all and no matter what I say or how I present they have already decided that. Its so obvious in how they come across. Closed, dismissive, rushing me through the conversation. Not seeing the human sat in front of them but an impression of me already made by others on my notes. And not hearing me.

All we need is to be heard. I feel like I've been given some power to fight this battle when I am simply, truly heard.

After writing this and searching for a suitable quote or image for this post I found this. And this has just made it so much more. This is it. The professionals that make me feel heard are caring and warm and empathetic, I feel a calm and content when I'm heard. 

The stillness of the night

The stillness of the night is a welcome break from the panic of the day. When the rest of the world is asleep and outside is calm and quiet. No one expects anything of me. I don't have to fear the phone ringing and a forced conversation with someone I'm scared of. I don't have to refresh my emails every 2 minutes incase I've had a reply to that pending incredibly important thing I'm currently trying to deal with. In the stillness of the night I can just be. I don't have to fight my battles. I don't have to argue to be taken seriously or even treated as a human with needs just like everyone else. In the stillness of the night I am the only one that exists. The rest of the world, those people causing me problems don't exist. Or at least are asleep so aren't going to bother me.

Some nights aren't this calm blanket of peace. Some nights I fear the stillness on the outside because the inside of me is running wild and won't stop just because the rest of the world stops. These nights I can't wait to sleep for as long as possible because sleep is my only escape. On these nights I resist waking up for as long as possible to put off having to face reality. 

But tonight is a still night. Tonight, after a day of being unable to get out of bed I have done a whole day's work. Tonight is freeing from the pain of today. Tonight is a night I don't want to go to sleep because I don't want this calm to end. I don't know what tomorrow will bring but I know that.i will have to fight my battles again when the rest of the world is awake. In the stillness of the night I can just be. 

I am learning to accept the present and each moment just as it is. Its a contradiction the two different kinds of nights I experience. But I accept this night is what it is without trying question why. 

I welcome any moment of calm in the current storm I'm in. Even if it is in the early hours of the morning in the stillness of the night. 

17 years

Tomorrow marks 17 years since you lost your fight with cancer. 

17 years without a mum. 

17 years of hurt, pain, suffering. 17 years missing you. 

17 years of missing you.

17 years of grief and still not really grieved because I wasn't allowed as a child and now I just don't know how. 

17 years without hearing your voice or seeing your smiling face. 17 years without your cuddles that would make everything better. 

17 years with a broken heart.

17 years of wishing you were here.

17 years and yet I'm still that broken little 12 year old girl. 

17 years of wanting to die to be with you. 

17 years of somehow surviving but not really living at all. 

17 years of being weird and misunderstood because no one really can understand this. 

17 years of standing out for the wrong reasons. 

17 years of scarring my body as a way to bear the pain. 

17 years of not knowing who I am. 

17 years of anger because you left me when I needed you. 

17 years full of loss and grief, over and over. 

17 years of trying to make you proud. 

17 years of failure.

17 years, and the memories are fading.

17 years, and I think I'm forgetting you.

17 years, I'm scared I'm losing you. 

17 years but I'm not ready to lose you.

17 years.