Tag Archives: CMHT

angry.

I guess this could be a trigger. Sorry.

So last night I called the HTT crisis line because I was so worked up and distressed and I’d just got off the phone to the Ex and I felt out of control and fast and mean and basically the whole world sucked and I blamed treatment.

I literally have nothing normal left in my life anymore. Since starting treatment over a year ago I’ve only lost things. I’ve lost thing after thing till now I’ve got nothing nice left. The only thing I’ve gained is a bunch of professionals that are paid to pretend to care about me, but make it pretty fucking clear they don’t give a fuck. I didn’t feel safe.

I told them I never wanted anyone to come to my house again. The guy I was speaking to is actually nice and he got worried. I told him I’d lost everything and that having people barely conceal their contempt for me only hurt me more and I didn’t want any part of it ever again. I told him I wanted out of it all and I didn’t feel safe and they weren’t helping and everything in my life has just be getting worse and worse. This went on for a little while and he eventually agreed to the HTT calling me instead of visiting this morning and told me he cared and was worried and would listen and I should call him back if I needed to.

I didn’t call back. Instead I self harmed. It was quite severe, but I managed it with my now expert injury first aid and eventually felt better enough to fall asleep at about 4am.

I then get woken up by the HTT knocking on my door, and not just them, but also my new key worker from CDAT. I got so angry and told them over and over I didn’t want them there and had been told they wouldn’t come and they refused to leave because I had to talk to the CDAT woman and I hate her and I hate them and they lied and I wasn’t dressed and I hate every single part of my mental health treatment.

After they left, I called the HTT and asked them never to come back again and I didn’t want anymore treatment from them. They lied to me and didn’t care and they make me hurt more. Apparently they’re going to call me this afternoon, but I don’t even think they will seeing as they are full of lies and don’t give a shit. They talked about sectioning me if I didn’t comply with them, but I can’t even see how they have the power to do that. You need like two psychiatrists to section someone, and it’s not like any of them talk to each other. Like this morning I was told they’d come back this evening, then on the phone I was told they’d come back tomorrow morning. None of them have any fucking clue what the plan for my treatment is. I doubt they could get two psychiatrists in the same fucking room.

I then called the CMHT to asked to be discharged from them. The Psychiatrist is on leave so I can’t leave them till next week.

Following that, I called the Psychologist and left a message for him to call back. He didn’t, so I left a subsequent message saying I never wanted to see him again. He eventually called back and said he “hopes I turn up and he won’t discharge me yet” and said he’ll leave it in my hands to contact him if I don’t go. I’m most angry with him because he pretends better than everyone else. And if he didn’t tell me the Ex was a cunt, I’d probably still have someone to love me. If he hadn’t told me it was ok to take time out of uni, I’d probably have a fucking degree. If he hadn’t told me I needed further help, none of the other fucking teams would be involved. And he called my fucking parents. How am I supposed to trust him?

I can’t get in touch with IMPART because I didn’t save their number and I’ve swapped phones. Imma try get their number from someone else, but I don’t know who yet. I fully intend to leave their services as well.

CDAT can go spin to be honest. I told her as much, but she made an appointment for me anyway. I’m not going to go. She said if I don’t go, she’ll call, but it’s not like I have to reply. Calls from mental health treatment places always come up as private numbers so its pretty easy to know which ones to ignore.

I then called uni to ask to formally drop out, but I have to talk to my personal tutor before I can do that and he’s not in so I emailed.

I want to be out of treatment now. Out for good. All I’ve got from treatment is a worse life. All I had left was my fucking degree and that’s gone now so fuck it. If I’d never started treatment, I probably could have aced a dissertation by now and be finished and not care that all my friends hate me and my family think I’m disgusting because I’d be pretty and small and that would be enough and I’d have a boy and future. Instead, I’ve complied with everything asked of me and have essentially lost everything. I make the Fam cry, the Brother always chooses others over me when I really need him, my friends all think I’m rubbish and weird, the Ex treats me rubbish and I hurt him and the DVIP people keep calling me to tell me how shit he is and he calls me to tell me how shit they are and now I’ve lost uni. The one fucking normal thing I had left.

So fuck them all. I did as I was told and tried and now I’m angry and alone and have horrendous withdrawal symptoms. I keep having panic attacks and can’t focus or sleep and get tremors all over and I fucking hate every part of ever having entered treatment. So I no longer have an eating disorder? It’s not like I have anything else.

It hurts me more to be surrounded by people who pretend they care then it does to be alone. It’s better to not have it rubbed in your face that the most important thing you do is provided by people who think you’re worthless. Fuck them all. Seriously.

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Filed under bad day, CDAT, CMHT, fuck, HTT, life, NHS, rant, recovery, rubbish, therapy, university

and they’re back again.

So the HTT are back again. I spoke to the Psychologist yesterday about my mood, increasing self-harms, suicidal impulses, stocks of pills and alcohol etc. and from that point on, it was all things go.

Firstly, he called my HTT and asked if they’d see me. They told him I had to refer myself, so he called me back and told me to do that and that if I didn’t, he’d be compelled to tell my parents. I got the Brother to call him to calm him a bit, then called the HTT. They would only accept a referral from the CMHT Psychiatrist. This is where it all went wrong.

The Psychologist is from my EDU, which is based in north London and is part of a NHS Mental Health Trust. My CMHT, HTT and IMPART are part of the North East London Foundation Trust. Basically, that means the communication between my primary care giver (the Psychologist I see weekly) and everyone else is essentially awful.

I called the Psychiatrist, but he was unavailable, so I called the Psychologist. He said he’d call the Psychiatrist then call me back. I called the Psychiatrist a lot of times and was given assurances he’d call as soon as possible. Then I just waited and waited.

At about five thirty in the afternoon, after giving up hope that anyone liked me or cared about my existence and convinced (yet again) that I should just kill myself, the Psychologist called back. Apparently he talked to the Psychiatrist and was told I’d be contacted. When I told him I hadn’t, he was pissed because he’d been told that they’d take up his issues. He then told me he had no choice but to call the Fam. He was all like “I don’t breach confidentiality lightly” and like “This comes from a place of care”, but seriously – fuck him.

So now the Fam know I have a stash of painkillers and I’m suicidal and ‘high risk’.

Luckily, I was out with the Pa at that point, so only him and the Brother knew, but I already knew what would await me at home. It would be tears and drama from the Ma. She’s terrified I’m going to die and I devastate her life.

Then, at 6pm, the Psychiatrist called and asked what was going on. I told him how fucked off I was that he’d messed up my Valium prescription and what my Psychologist had told me to tell him – suicidal intent over the past few days, worsening mood, worsening self-harm, stash of pills etc.. Because it was 6pm at this point, he couldn’t see me till Monday and told me I had to go to A&E. If he’d called half an hour earlier, I could have avoided the Famo issues and just gone to A&E whilst saying I was heading to the pub or something, but no.

I was right about the Ma. I got home – cue waterworks. Which in turn, rackets up my guilt, shame and suicidal thoughts. I don’t want to hurt my mum, but I do, every single day. Just by existing.

So anyway, I packed a bag, grabbed a really good friend and off to A&E I went. I was there from about 7pm till maybe 1am ish. The friend really helped lift my mood. He was fun with me and joked with me and made me feel better sometimes, though little triggers and memories kept knocking me back down again. Of course, me being a dick, I took razors to the hospital and cut myself in the bathroom. Seriously – who does that? Why am I such an idiot? Nurses had to dress my stupidity and I wasted their time. They were nice to me though. I’ve never been treated badly by A&E staff for my mental health issues, though I know for a lot of people this is a common occurence. I’ve only been treated well and kindly. I guess I’m lucky. I’ve always been offered the right, evidence based treatments, support when needed and been treated kindly. Maybe it’s because I’m in London. I know so many people haven’t had such luck.

Standardly, I had an ECG, my blood pressure taken, a blood test and a urine test. I don’t know why. My bloods were fine though, my blood pressure is a tiny bit below average (which is good) and my ECG was normal. Apparently I have a water infection. I hadn’t noticed, but now I’m on antibiotics for that too.

Anyway, it took till about midnight for the HTT people to see me, so now they’re back. I was sad because I wasn’t seen by someone I know and I wanted a recognisable face. I’m getting zopiclone now to help me sleep without Valium and green, which will hopefully help me feel better whilst cutting down on the diazepam, but will make me more drowsy in the day as my body isn’t resistant to it. And they’re going to provide me with Valium everyday so I don’t have to go cold turkey again. I slept through their appointment times this morning though so I’m not even sure if I’ll see them. They called and said they’d be coming, ad I know who it’ll be today and he’s lovely so that’s less scary, even if I don’t know what time it’ll be.

I’m still really on edge and have thought more than once about ending my life in the two hours I’ve been awake. Still, at least I had a good nights sleep. Now I’m just waiting and hoping the HTT turn up in time to settle me a bit. I’m fucking exhausted and have no appetite. The idea of eating anything makes me feel sick. And every time I go downstairs, the Ma looks at me like I break her heart and my whole body just aches with guilt and shame. I don’t know what to do.

So yer, I’m feeling really fucking low and I don’t know how much I’ll be blogging for a while. I’ll try keep up with reading, lurking and commenting, but I duno.

I feel like shit.

Sorry for whinging.

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Filed under bad day, bpd, CMHT, home treatment team, NHS