CRASHED INTO CUCKOO’S NET

Tough week, last week was one year since I tried to end my life. It’s wrong to call it an anniversary. Cant find a word for place or the process. I’m remembering so much more about that period, its really scary and downright weird. I found myself linking up about every five /ten minutes and remembering, at this time I  ……. At 17:30 I was sitting in front of three people who were deciding my fate.

I had been in the psychiatric unit a couple of hours, people were speaking to me, had been brought into a room,searched by a woman police officer,she was perfectly fine, but it was still a shock. I was so cold and shaky having been in the open air for a while. Everyone was ok ish,given tea, so aware I was in a room that I couldn’t get out of. Put in the room next to it. There was a setee  and three chairs, looked as if someone had tried to design it for patients and staff, but from a staff perspective.

No one actually said what was going to happen, apart from ,I wold be seeing a Doctor soon. What felt like ages a man appears,he did shake my hand, top marks,(I’m a succour for a hand shake) introduced himself and the others would be along later,that the social worker was brilliant. BUT NOONE SAID WHAT WAS GOING TO HAPPPEN.

So me sitting there on the settee,a  male psychiatrist , a male  GP and a female social worker. The GP said he was there for me, to help me ,but he didn’t talk to me first. Lots of questions,beginning to feel under siege, realising every   breath,every word,every body movement was being analysed. Each person  was distantly friendly,but so distant,lots and lots of questions and I felt like was losing the battle. WHY WAS THERE NO ONE THERE FOR ME.?

If your arrested your told what is happening,and have access to a lawyer,how come there is no automatic help when it’s being decided your losing your liberty because of actions due to   supposed mental health issues. I guess its legal to kill yourself ,but illegal to fail to kill yourself. If you say you’re not mentally ill,well you would say that anyway,wouln’t you.

I knew I was in extremely serious trouble when the psychiatrist told me I was “  beyond Samaritans”. I had been talking to Samaritans on top of the cliff. Later the  psychiatrist  in response to me saying I felt sick ,said drinking the tea I had my hands cupped round ,would “do me no good”. For me that felt as if he didn’t even think or care what the tea was doing for me. The tea was in a cup, albeit plastic,still was warming up my hands,and giving me something to do with my hands. He didn’t sugeest an alternative,but the words felt as if they were accusatorial. OK tea for me solves. ALL ills and every problem is assisted by a cup of strong milky tea.

Part two to follow, its painful to write this.

It seems so contradictory when the places and people who set themselves up to judge you   create a situation that in its self  and excluding the reason you’re their becomes a trauma of its own,

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