Why I'm voting Labour as a person with a disability.

As a 27 year old woman with a chronic illness/ disability, I’m going to be voting labour on the 12th of December and here’s why. 

It’s hard to keep your blog from being politically involved when you write about so many issues that are affected by the decisions made by those in parliament. If you’ve come here via my twitter account you’ll know both myself and my partner are strong Labour supporters. Part of that has come from our own experiences and the experiences of those around us. 

Growing up, my family never had much. Mum became a single parent when I was ten. She was an absolute inspiration to me and my brother, who was ten years younger. We never went hungry even though mum did. We were a family that always believed in working if you were able to and mum always did. Luckily I had always been a healthy child, but my brother spent the first few years of his life in and out of hospital, because of life threatening asthma attacks. Even so I don’t think I really understood the importance of the NHS until I was diagnosed with Atypical depression at age 19. 

I relied heavily on the NHS for my basic survival. Without the medications to dull the suicidal and impulsive thoughts in my head I don’t think I would have lived past 20. I can only imagine the horror of the bill I would have received in a healthcare system like the states has. It’s likely I just wouldn’t have been able to afford treatment. The thought of the NHS being sold off to private providers throws me into a spiral of panic. It’s something that has already been happening under the current Tory government and if we’re to believe the leaked documents (which most of us do) we can expect a lot more of this.

When I was diagnosed with EUPD/BPD I started to understand the struggles people with mental health issues went through to get treatment. I have been conditioned to be used to a low quality of care but under the current government, services are at breaking point. At one time I was left without mental health care for six months, whilst the NHS attempted to transfer my care. Upon investigation it would appear that the whole issue was a paperwork problem likely caused by the lack of admin staff. With no community care team available to me and no way to get my medication reviewed (my GP refused to touch it), my mental health deteriorated rapidly. I couldn’t work, I rarely left the flat and I became actively suicidal. I realised that I could have easily become another in the 130,000 preventable deaths caused by austerity. I received emergency care only. I was admitted to a psychiatric ward on a few occasions, where the staff were overworked and burned out due to high patient levels and low staffing levels. The overcrowding got so bad at one point they had to send a young man to the dementia ward to sleep for the night because there were no beds. The hospital budget was so minimal that they didn’t have the funding to provide patients with essential sanitary products. From what I hear my experience is common. Thanks yet again to Tory refusal to properly fund mental health. 

It’s not just a healthcare problem. If you have a disability or chronic health problem you will probably be familiar with the benefits system and the lengths you have to go to for financial help. The assessments are deliberately brutal and designed to make applicants doubt their own ‘validity’ in their claim. These assessments have driven many to self harm and suicide. A personal friend of mine who suffers from an eating disorder lost her PIP, because she ‘only’ starved herself four days a week instead of five. Under a tory government the message that gets repeated is “Your only worth is the money you make us.” This ethos means if you are disabled, if you aren’t able to work full time, if you need extra support, “Then you are nothing to us.” I’m not prepared to give my vote to a party that treats people as property to simply be thrown away. 

Austerity has been a lie. We have not been “in this together” as we’ve been told. The rich continue to get richer. The tories represent millionaires who refuse to pay their fair share, mega-corporations who dodge taxes, greedy landlords, Bullingdon club wankers who burn money in the faces of the homeless and exploitative employers. They represent money, greed and corruption. They do not care for the most vulnerable in society and they never will, it is not in their best interests. 

So what can we do to tackle these parasites and try to get some humanity back into our leaders? Well in my opinion, vote Labour. Their manifesto has been increasingly positive. They’re promising new funding for our essential services such as the NHS, social care and teaching. They’re investing in the future of green energy rather than denying us a future at all by willfully ignoring climate change. They’re tackling poverty and inequalities such as the wage gap between women and men. They have been doing so much to include young people in politics and have engaged youth like no other party ever has. And as for Jeremy Corbyn, he has always been on the right side of history. At Grenfell he was there. The Yorkshire flooding, he was there. I have always seen so much passion and compassion in Corbyn; the likes of which I have never seen from Johnson or Swinson. 

The main argument I have seen against Labour is that such spending plans can’t possibly be funded. Every time the counter argument is yes it can and it’s coming from the top 5% of earners; people earning over £80,000 a year. One such earner described his weekly tax increase as “the price of a bottle of wine”. That’s it, that’s all. To see poverty decreased, to see the NHS stabilise, to greatly decrease homelessness, to see your elderly and young people get the care they need. Labour also wants to make sure that big companies aren’t dodging taxes and are paying their fair share and that they must pay their employees a living wage. A vote for labour is a vote for fairness, and in my opinion a vote to avoid another five years of torture and uncertainty for people with disabilities. 

There are so many more reasons for you to vote Labour and if you’re still on the fence, then please go and check out their manifesto. I trust them far more than I will ever trust the Conservative party and I believe the country is beginning to see that. Please vote in this crucial general election and see what a difference you can make to the place we call our home.

Where I've been instead of here

Hi everyone

You might have noticed I’ve been pretty inactive for a long, long loooong time. I wanted to give you an update on what’s been going on my end. At the end of 2018, I finally got the good news I was waiting for. I had a meeting with the head of the complex needs service and we discussed that I had been trying to access DBT for some time; with no luck. Until recently that therapy had not been available in my area. She told me that DBT was now being provided on the NHS where I live and she said she would be referring me. She said she felt it was the right treatment for me and it would really help finally take back control of my life. 

I will write in more detail about this in a longer post about the process I’ve had to go through. But just to say I have had to fight tooth and nail to get this life-changing recommended treatment and I think that’s appalling. I am someone who is often able to pull together the motivation to get up and argue about a decision in my care. But, I often worry about others who aren’t able to do this, or haven't got a good support network behind them. After I threatened a complaint for poor service and a failure to follow the NICE guidelines on BPD treatment, they finally allowed me into the DBT group. I still don’t know when this will be starting, but I should receive a letter before the end of December. Fingers crossed I don’t have to make any more fuss, because I’m exhausted. 

Thank you for being patient with me whilst I get myself recovered from all this stress. My friends, family and supporters have all been excellent too. 

I’m hoping to get back to work on my blog posts at the end of next week. Also I’m looking to write about the political situation here in the UK (with the upcoming general election) and how it affects people with disabilities. 

More stuff coming soon.   

Out of Darkness. Xx

Sensory Overload and Coping with Change.

Some of you may have heard of the term “sensory overload” before. For those that haven't, it’s when one or more of your senses experiences over stimulation. This comes from the environment around you eg. loud noises, bright light or colours and crowding. It’s very distressing and can cause the person experiencing it to become agitated, anxious or even to go into a mental meltdown. Anyone can experience sensory overload under the right conditions. The most commonly known group of people who are vulnerable to this are those on the autistic spectrum, but did you know there are other disorders that can also be affected? People with ADHD, anxiety and certain personality disorders are known to struggle with this issue. I’m going to be explaining my experience of it as someone with Borderline Personality Disorder. 

As we do every Tuesday, me and my partner had gone to do our food shopping. We usually go late in the evening, but for some reason we had come earlier in the day. My local Lidl is the place we visit consistently as they always have the things we like to buy and it’s relatively cheap. I enjoy the way they lay things out and have my own little route I take, which is the same every week. As we were walking down the first aisle I found myself feeling a bit lost and felt my throat tightening. There were a lot more people than usual, but I could cope with this level of anxiety. By the time we got to the top of the aisle though, I felt positively sick. Taking a moment to look around I realised the entire layout had been changed. My items were not in the places I would usually find them and large double height freezers had been installed. The lights on the freezers were extremely bright, the noise level was high and I was having to navigate around people with a large trolley. When we got to the freezer section I realised that I was heading for a meltdown. In all honesty I felt stupid. How could it be that someone as functional as I was, was almost crying over a change in layout? My partner was supporting me and I tried to laugh it off and hold back my tears. My head was pounding and my ears were ringing. I could even feel myself beginning to disassociate; a natural coping mechanism I have. 

Luckily I managed to make it through my shopping trip without a major meltdown, which I’ve experienced in the past. The one that always sticks out in my mind was when I had a full on breakdown in a shopping centre, where I got furious with my partner and ran out of the shop (Yikes). When I was younger and less aware of what was happening to me, I didn’t even realise what was causing my meltdowns. I haven’t had too many in the last few years as I’ve managed to improve my emotional resilience. I’d been feeling particularly fragile during that week so it’s understandable I didn’t cope as well as usual. 

Many people with non-neurotypical tendencies like BPD and Autism rely heavily on routine and structure to cope with day to day tasks. Even small changes could throw us into a blind panic. But I have found ways to manage my stress and try and avoid overstimulation whilst in public. 

• Avoid busy times - We tend to go shopping at around 7pm. You can’t always help it, but it’ll save you a lot of stress if you can plan your week differently. I also do all my christmas present shopping early as I can’t deal with the garish colours, bright lights and screaming children that the holidays bring.
• Take a friend/carer - Essential for me as I can’t manage the whole shop on my own. If you’re going to be going to parties or events where you might get sensory overload, it always helps to have a supportive person you can trust with you. 
• Make a list/plan your route - I find this really helps to keep me focussed, so I don’t panic when I have to make decisions about what to buy or where I’m going.
• Remember to breathe - I always forget to do this when I start to experience sensory overload. I hold my breath as I’m gritting my teeth and it makes me feel even worse. Practicing mindfulness when you’re not stressed helps you to use it when you are. 
• Regularly get out of your comfort zone - I know you don’t want to because it feels like hell, but getting out and doing the things that make you a little anxious will help you to be more resilient. Every so often I pop to a smaller shop to get a few bits on my own. It’s stressful, but it builds confidence.   

5 Things Healthcare Professionals Do That Are Harmful.

I’ve recently been going through a very rough and troubling time. Since October last year I’ve been dipping in and out of crises. As of two weeks ago, after relapsing quite badly, I have been under the Crisis Resolution Team (CRT). I’ve had many dealings with similar teams and most of them have been unpleasant. There are members of these that have been kind and helpful, but I’m afraid to say it’s a rarity. Most of them are simply lacking training with regards to people with personality disorders. Which isn’t their fault, government cuts over the last few years have left the NHS in a pitiful state. Occasionally though you also get the other type of HCP. Unsympathetic, practically eye rolling and needlessly cruel. During my many years with this diagnosis, I have seen the way we are treated differently and often more harshly, because of the misconceptions many professionals hold. So I’d like to reach out to those HCPs who are overworked and underpaid. Let me explain some of the things you’re doing you might not even notice are causing harm.

Emotional Blackmail - Yes, it really does happen. A lot more than you’d think. I came to my meeting with the CRT in the hopes that someone would be able to offer me support. I was terrified of what I might do to myself and what I had already done. It takes a lot of courage to walk into a meeting and explain that you’ve relapsed with your self harming behaviours. I don’t want to tell you because I want your attention. I want to tell you because I’m scared of what I might do. I’m telling you I need help. Now if you were seeing a HCP you would expect them to be compassionate. My confession was met with utter disdain and even anger. The CRT member said to me 

“If you can’t keep yourself safe and have to go into hospital, then you won’t be getting your therapy!”. 

She went on to tell me that I had the capacity to make my own choices and I knew what I was doing. I felt physically sick. Did she really think I was doing this on purpose? I tried to explain how I lack control when the impulse takes over, but she wasn’t listening. She’d already made up her mind about me. 

Guilt Tripping - Very similar to the emotional blackmail. I’ve known too many professionals who fall into the trap of doing this to their patients out of desperation or frustration. My personal opinion is this happens when the HCP lacks the skills and training, to treat the patient successfully. Which explains why it often occurs with patients with personality disorders or complex needs. After telling me I wouldn’t get my therapy if I self harmed, she resorted to saying

“you should feel lucky you’re getting treatment and that you have a partner/ family/ friends.”

I’ve been one of those people waiting 5 years for the recommended treatment. I have jumped through hoop after hoop, and I have fought tooth and nail to get it. I am not lucky. Also saying to someone their pain is invalid because they have friends and family is ridiculous. BPD is an issue with the way I process emotions and how I perceive the world around me. Whether I have a partner or not won’t change this, and the idea that it will is naive and ignorant. 

Closed Listening - I come to you to try and explain my current situation and the struggle I’m facing. Your job is to listen to me and assess me. It’s clear and straightforward, but for some reason it seems it’s a skill that doesn’t get put to use. The problem is I start to tell you what I’m experiencing and instead of waiting for me to finish you assume you already know. Because of this you’ll never truly understand what is actually happening. At times it makes me want to scream “you’re not actually listening to what I’m saying.” But if I did that you’d put in my notes I was violent or aggressive, so I stay silent. Closed listening leads to people blocking out HCPs and therefore hinders the recovery process. 

Underestimating Me - There is nothing more irritating than when you work up the courage to call the CRT and you get this in response to suicidal thoughts. 

“Go for a walk, then you’ll feel better.” 

I actually hate this. It is something that people have been telling me since I was 17. No, it doesn’t help me. I have tried. Did you think I hadn’t thought of this? Such a simple solution to the problem. Having lived with BPD all of my adult life, I’ve had to become quite resourceful to survive. I practice mindfulness, yoga, various forms of creative writing and have become relatively good at self soothing. By the time I reach crisis point I have tried everything I can think of. So please don’t get annoyed when I dismiss your suggestions. I’ve already tried them. I understand it isn’t meant to be patronising, but that’s how it comes across. If you take the time to get to know me better and read my notes before our meeting, you’ll see that I’m a very capable adult and then maybe you’ll treat me as such. Also if you know what helps me, you’ll be able to make better suggestions. 

Being Dismissive Because I’m a “PD” - Uh oh… it’s this abbreviation again. It gets thrown around mental health teams constantly. I know from my time as a student nurse and in my current role; so let’s not pretend. Most of us living with a personality disorder know the constant headache of being categorised and stereotyped. Patients are often spoken about as being dramatic attention seekers, who need to be treated with tough love or simply discharged from services. I’ve been in situations where this judgement has been made by HCPs before they’ve even met the individual. You may think it’s harmless as long as you don’t say these things in front of us, but the attitude carries like a stench on the wind. People with BPD can read a negative facial expression from a mile off, and believe me it shows.

I apologise if this has seemed like an endless rant or an attack on HCPs. After all, I am one myself. But, I think it’s really important to recognise our weaknesses and therefore improve. Helping people with complex needs is a tough job and in a service where you’re barely getting time for a drink or even to go to the toilet, I understand. You don’t have enough resources to help everyone and it causes you to feel emotionally fatigued. I’m hoping however that you’ll see we can be helped and kindness does work. I’ve had HCPs that really have made a difference to my life. I want you to see that it’s worth it in the end. So please stick with us while we figure out life in this crazy world.

And ... We're Done.

Hey to anyone reading this. 

Boy am I glad that’s over! I started writing about my experience of therapy so long ago. Sorry it took me a ridiculous amount of time to finish it. As you may have guessed from previous posts, this really isn’t my year. Actually in terms of personal growth, it's been fantastic. I’ve been on a journey of discovery, but that has meant that my blog has stagnated a bit. I was struggling to find the motivation to write about my therapy experiences. I wanted to do it justice, however there was just so much material. I even cut what you’re seeing down a lot. 

The good news is it’s complete and you can go back to expecting more varied content in shorter easier to read pieces. I don’t think I’ll be embarking on another series of posts quite that long. Once you start something you do have to finish it though. 

Thanks for your support and patience. 

Out of Darkness. Xx

Psychotherapy Experience - Part Five - The End

Trigger Warning - suicidal ideation and actions

After finishing my therapy in December I thought everything would be fine. I was extremely optimistic and only a little bit scared that I would be going it on my own. I was on the list to get DBT, but I knew it would probably take some time; 6 months at least. After 2-3 years of psychotherapy I assumed that my life was going to be better from now on. 

In October time I had taken a pretty large overdose and ended up hospitalised for two days. Thinking about it, it was the biggest overdose I had ever taken. I lost two days of my life in a state of delirium. But, since the end of the therapy, I thought that things were looking up. I looked at that relapse as the final kick; my illness trying one last time to take me out before I got rid of it for good. Coming through that felt like such an achievement. This lead to a lot of the positivity I was experiencing. 

I returned to work quickly. Eager to put it all behind me and move on with my life. Looking back on it, I was frightened they would notice something was wrong with me. I’ve always struggled with putting too much stock in the job I do. I treat it like an identity, since I struggle with who I am most days. The thought of my colleagues thinking I was weak made my stomach churn with anxiety. 

It wasn’t long before I started running into difficulties again. I hadn’t given myself time to heal emotionally and so I had returned to work still in a crisis. I went through each day dreading the next one. I tried to take annual leave here and there to give myself some time, but I was just fire fighting. By the time Christmas had come and gone, I was at my limit. I remember waking up one morning before work in early January and just thinking, “I wish I could just die.” The stress of actually pulling all the bits of my scattered self together and holding it there for 13.5 hours, was just too much. 

I remember feeling as if I had nothing else to give. I felt emotionally destroyed and so weak. I was sitting on the sofa worrying about work, when it hit me. It didn’t matter if I was fit to do my job right now or not if I was dead in the next few days. I was angry at myself for always putting work and other people before my own life. Feeling like I might do something stupid, I went to see my GP who sent me straight to A&E. After a few hours sitting and waiting, I was seen by the crisis team, who in turn admitted me to the mental health assessment unit. It had been so long since I had been there and honestly it felt terrible. I knew at least I would be safer there than at home. I won’t go into much more detail of the events that happened in the hospital, because I’m sure it’s already been discussed in a previous post. I was off work for a long time. Like 3 months, all because I had seen the warning signs and completely ignored them. I felt so bad about all of it. I kept wondering what work would think and if I should go back soon. I kept having to shake myself out of the frenzy and remind myself I was taking this time to heal. For me.  

I learned a lot  from my breakdown and my time off. Things I probably wouldn’t have been able to learn if I hadn’t been through the therapy. I learned not to push my emotions down or ignore my body. I learned to be kinder to myself, at least once in a while. I also learned that the other person inside of me, the vulnerable girl, she was not my enemy. And, she certainly wasn’t something I had to get rid off. Being able to cope as a functioning adult meant embracing her and taking care of myself. Appearing emotional doesn’t mean that people will think you’re weak. And if they do, why should you care about what they think? 

Now I’m waiting for my DBT. I’m optimistic that it’s going to help me cope better and hopefully learn more about who I am. I've had to wait a long time for it, but now it’s only about a month away. My journey in intensive psychotherapy certainly had its ups and downs. It’s helped me address past issues, solve problems and learn to experience the emotions I struggle with. It’s prepared me to move forward with my life in the knowledge that I deserve to be happy. I don’t regret a single second of any of it and would definitely recommend it to people struggling with BPD and other trauma based illnesses. Without that therapy group I don’t think I would have made it this far. So thank you to everyone who made it possible.

Psychotherapy Experience - Part Four

Another thing no one tells you about therapy is often the big changes happen afterwards. I felt my group sessions were too laid back and too loosely structured for me to benefit. I went away thinking that all it had done was bring up painful memories and cause me to struggle even more. 

It must have been a week or so after the last session that I could sense something wasn’t right with me. I was starting to become aware of a place inside of me I didn’t know existed. Now, hear me out because this sounds a bit crazy, but it’s all metaphorical, and I can strongly visualise it in my mind. Before therapy I was aware of a great, big, aching emptiness within me. It has been the reason I have engaged in a lot of unhealthy behaviours, to try and fill that void. Where there seemed to have always been nothing, suddenly there was something. Small at first and barely recognisable. I had always visualised myself standing on the edge of a giant hole in the ground, that went on as far as I could see. I had always assumed that jumping over the edge meant that I had truly given up on life. There was something drawing me to step out into the void and see what was down there. So one day, I did. What I found there, was myself. Not all of me, but all of the negative and painful emotions I had tried to hide. In attempting to bottle it all up I had created a kind of other entity in my own mind. It scared me to death. 

After a long and drawn out summer I found myself exhausted. It was as if I was doing battle with my own soul. That girl I had found at the bottom of the void, I wanted to get rid of her, along with all my pain. I sort of saw her as some kind of adversary. All this fighting landed me straight back in the hospital. I sat in that dark place cursing my therapist for encouraging me to be more introspective. When she offered me a place in another ongoing therapy group I wasn’t exactly impressed, but part of me thought it couldn’t possibly make things any worse. 

Joining the second group was strange. It was like returning to a new school year, but all your classmates have morphed into different people. There was one girl from the previous group and I stuck to her like glue. We both described a sense of failure that we had had to return. It was as if we were having to resit the course. It took everything I had to be optimistic. I knew I had to try and get the most out of it. 

I poured all my effort into digging deep into that dark place. I talked and talked and talked, in the hope that it would lead me to getting rid of that girl in my soul. Over the next year and a half I went off sick from work time and time again. I would go through a cycle of struggling to keep up with life, starting to crack, having a breakdown, getting hospitalised, getting released and having a sudden realisation about my life. Lather, rinse, repeat, ad nauseum. What I didn’t realise was that this internal struggle, causing me all these problems, was actually taking me through a long and drawn out healing process. There was still one thing I couldn’t crack.     

I was at a stage now where I had to do this on my own. I had thoroughly used up all my resources. It is important in therapy to know when you’re done. Even though I still hadn’t defeated her, I just knew. Around October time I discussed my decision with my therapist. We agreed that I wouldn’t carry on therapy in the new year. She was encouraging and realised that I had gotten everything I could from her. I needed to take a leap of faith. She promised me I could remain under their team for a while, until I was sure I could make it on my own. I would still see the psychiatrist for updates and medication reviews. I also had a meeting with the head of service who arranged for me to be put on the short waiting list for Dialectical Behavioural Therapy (DBT), so that I could gain more skills for coping with my emotions. This was a shock to me as before DBT wasn’t available in my area for outpatients. The final session came and went and I steeled myself to go it alone, out in the real world. 

January. It happened in January. Since leaving therapy I had been expecting it. I knew now that the biggest realisations happened post-therapy and that change usually came about after a breakdown. And it was one hell of a breakdown.  

Psychotherapy Experience - Part Three

One thing they never tell you about group therapy is how much you’ll cry for others. It is thought that some people with BPD have higher levels of empathy and compassion for others as a result. It’s heavily debated, but I feel like I have a very strong sense of it. When I see people in emotional pain it’s almost as if I am feeling it myself. That often leads to me avoiding people when they are upset or angry, in order to cope. Being trapped in a room with emotional people, would have scared the hell out of me back when I first started. It was a bit like exposure therapy in a way. I would have to learn to allow myself to feel the pain of others and not shy away. There really was some serious pain and trauma in this group. Because of confidentiality and not wanting to trigger anyone reading this I won’t go into detail, but so many topics were covered. We often found ourselves crying together. Fighting back the emotions became our enemy as we tried to navigate painful memories and allow ourselves to feel in the safe space we’d created. 

I’m not entirely sure how psychotherapy works, but truthfully talking about my life and issues  seemed to have a positive effect on me. At the start of therapy I had felt like I had no sense of who I was or what I wanted from life. I simply did whatever would make other people happy or what I thought was the right thing to do. I wasn’t living for myself at all. I had given up on me a long time ago. It felt like I was always wearing masks to hide the nothingness and confusion underneath. I always thought there was no one underneath, like I was just born wrong and empty. The first year of therapy gave me an awareness there was someone underneath. It taught me that it was okay to be angry and it was okay to be upset. I learned that if I started crying, I could stop it in time to get on with my life. It also gave me the fight to continue on despite feeling as if I would never get better. I suppose in a way it gave me hope. 

Meeting like minded people who were also struggling was one of the greatest gifts. I had grown up feeling so alone, as if no one truly understood. But these girls did, and the therapists too. A bond had formed between us. The only disappointment was that a year had passed and it was almost time for the group to end. I couldn’t believe it had gone so quick. I had talked about so much of my past, and the more current issues I was experiencing. Getting it out into the open felt really good and allowed me to start analysing my unhealthy behaviours. 

The last session was really emotional. We all gave each other cards and tried to secretly exchange our numbers. We knew we weren’t supposed to, but something about the end of group just seemed so final. In the world outside of therapy we felt alone. You don’t usually run into others that have experiences like that; at least not that are going to share their issues openly. There’s plenty of people online, but those sorts of communities can be incredibly toxic and triggering. The ending felt like I was losing some much needed allies.

Psychotherapy Experience - Part Two

The strange thing about group therapy, is in my experience, you never know what to expect; even if you’ve been through it before. Each time for me has been different. There are many contributing factors including the way the therapists interact and how the patients react to this. Also the mix of patients and how we interact with each other. Our all-girl group consisted of 6 young people with similar issues. Although we were encouraged not to label ourselves, most of us were forthcoming with the fact we suffered from BPD or borderline traits. The issues in our lives were similar. Unstable moods, feelings of emptiness, chaos or depression, struggles with self harm and drug and alcohol misuse were discussed often.

The therapists were very laid back and allowed us to lead the sessions and come up with topics of interest. They simply guided the sessions and asked questions to make us think more deeply about what was being discussed. It felt odd for the therapists not to be in control, as they had been when I had other talking therapies. The lack of structure made me uneasy at times and made me question whether talking about all this emotional baggage would really help me. In my head I had aired these emotions out again and again. Surely I would have nothing left to talk about? I had decided that my past wasn’t unhappy or traumatic; just the usual misery we all go through. I heard the stories of the girl’s around me and I felt like my pain was nothing compared to what some of them had suffered. I was more than happy to ask questions and give them support, but when it came to myself I preferred to keep quiet.  

Three months had passed and I found myself growing attached to the people around me. I felt I knew more about my fellow group members than their nearest and dearest. Despite my worries about letting my emotions out, I continued to try and relate my experiences with that of the others. Sensitive topics would come up and I would find myself straining every muscle in my body to stop all the emotions from pouring out. I had learned to push it all deep down as a child, but as times got harder I started to run out of room. After particularly stressful events I would find myself becoming overly emotional and self destructive in order to cope. The pressure would build until eventually something explosive would happen and temporarily decimate my ability to look after myself. After years and years of this happening I had developed a fear of this happening in front of other people. So in a way the group was a minefield for me, but I knew it was only a matter of time.

I was relieved when it finally happened. One of the girls had been discussing her relationship with her dad and his narcissistic tendencies. It touched a nerve in my own experience and I began to feel the void in my chest opening up. I could feel the dark clouds moving in and I felt myself panic. I gripped my arm, digging my nails in too hard. The therapist noticed my struggle and asked me to open up about my relationship with my dad. I think I made it about half way through a sentence before I felt my voice break and a wave of emotion that I thought would drown me. I don’t know how long I must have bawled my eyes out for. I was so embarrassed, but the group and the therapists seemed pleased with me. They had noticed me holding back all this time. I confided in them that I was always afraid if I started crying that I wouldn’t ever stop. Not little tears, but that full on ugly crying where you sob until you can barely breathe. Although small, this was the turning point for me engaging properly in therapy. Now the girls had seen me cry, it was less scary.

As the weeks went on I began to realise that my pain was valid. I learned my childhood had been traumatic and confusing for me. I learned the misery I just assumed was part of life wasn’t nothing because others had it worse. I recounted hurtful moments that before I would’ve thought would kill me if I ever spoke about them. The girls around me kept me strong enough to relive those moments and to really be allowed to grieve, as I hadn’t ever. We became fiercely protective of each other and were always supportive. It was different from being friends, it was more than that. I can’t think of a proper word, but it was like we had been through so much together, like we’d known each other for years. I finally started to fit in amongst the others and felt free to discuss my true feelings.

Psychotherapy Experience - Part One

After I complained to the NHS about their negligence of my care, following an extremely poor handover of care, I was referred to a community based team for therapy. It was a specialist service specifically aimed at caring for those with diagnosed personality disorders or complex needs. The team was relatively small and they provided both psychotherapy and help with social needs, like getting into education or work.

I received a letter inviting me to an assessment with one of the psychotherapists, a few weeks after I was referred. I remember going in nervous and not sure what to expect. I have a history of being assessed by mental health teams, only to be rejected because I didn’t match up to their views on how people with mental illness should present. The psychotherapist was warm and kind and most importantly she listened. Not the sort of listening when you nod and then just say what you were going to say in the first place. I mean really listening. Taking in everything the person has to say and thinking about it in the context of the person’s life. She really got what I was trying to tell her about my experience of life. I could tell she’d had a lot of experience working with young people with BPD. I felt, for the first time ever, truly understood by a professional. There was no judgement or unwanted advice. She wasn’t trying to change me, but was getting me to understand and question how I really felt. And this was only the assessment! I knew immediately I would be able to work with her.  

Within a few more weeks I was told I had been accepted to take part in a young person’s therapy group for 18-25 year olds. I would be getting a few 1:1 sessions, before coming to group every Wednesday for an hour and a half. I knew that it wasn’t going to be Dialectical Behavioural Therapy, which I had wanted for years, but I welcomed any kind of therapy I hadn’t tried before. Especially due to the state I was in emotionally.

The first day I walked into the waiting room my heart was trying to jump out of my chest. I knew the group would be all female and that the other patients were dealing with similar issues, but that was about it. I sat in the corner, looking around to see if I could guess which of the other people I would be spending a year with. I couldn’t imagine sharing all of my problems. What if they thought my problems were trivial compared to theirs? Years of being told I should be lucky I hadn’t had all these awful things happen to me, had sort of brainwashed me. I had been told the issues I had weren’t because of trauma, but because of my general nature. I wasn’t traumatised, I was just weak or bad.  

The two therapists came into the waiting room and collected us. It felt a bit like school as we filed in silently. I could feel my eyes darting around in panic and tried to calm myself. I could feel the panic rising. As we all sat in a circle I hesitated to even look at anyone else, but I could tell the others felt the same. For what felt like eternity we sat there in silence, looking back it couldn’t have been more than 30 seconds. I could hear the gentle ticking of the clock on the wall to my left.

The first thing the therapists had us do was introduce ourselves. I felt so silly. I was starting to have second thoughts about being there. I had fears it would just be like all other therapy I had had, stupid, embarrassing and useless. By the end of the session though I was starting to come round. Some of the girls were talking about why they thought they were here, and it encouraged me to think and start to contribute. Everyone seemed friendly enough. I had been worried that I wouldn’t be able to get on with a group of women. I always struggled to make friends with girls at school, they seemed bitchy and complicated. The end of the session came faster than I had expected. I didn’t feel like I’d said much at all.

Update: Writing About My Therapy Experience

Morning all, 

I just wanted to give a small update on what I'm working on currently. After having completed 3 years of psycho-dynamic therapy, which came to an end in December, I wanted to talk about my experiences with group therapy.

I started writing a few days ago and had intended for it to be one post, briefly informing people of what to expect. However, I've come to realise that I have literally pages and pages to write. I looked at cutting sections down, but decided this would take away from what I wanted to share. 

My solution is to split it into several posts. It might take some time to get it all published, so please bear with me whilst this is in progress. Hopefully it'll be interesting to people who might be nervous about accessing therapy, or who want to see how it compares to their own experience.

Take care.
Out of Darkness Xx

Why I Wrote a Complaint to the NHS

Trigger Warning - mention of suicide attempt

After I moved to live with my partner in another county, I ended up launching a lengthy complaint against the NHS. Before this point in my life I had never complained about anything. I felt that I should be grateful for the care I was receiving. After all there are other countries where I’d have to pay hundreds of thousands for what I needed. I had only moved about 2 hours away by car, but the two NHS trusts handling my care seemed completely unable to communicate this with each other. I went from having a care coordinator and being under a community mental health team, to having no care available to me.

For months after, I spent countless hours on the phone to both trusts, attempting to find out where all my data had been sent. The old trust were completely clueless and the new trust refused to treat me until they had received my information. As you can imagine this went on for months, as I gradually got more and more unwell. To cut a long story short, I ended up making some attempts on my own life and being admitted to psychiatric ward for a few days. Even after all of that, the local team simply shrugged their shoulders and said there was nothing they could do.

So, with the support of my family, I decided to write a complaint. I’ve always been a very passive person who tends to avoid conflict, even if that means I miss out or suffer. For me it wasn’t easy deciding what I wanted to do.  It was however, the first time I understood that if I wanted to get the help I needed, I would have to fight for it. Using my knowledge of previous services in the place I grew up and also my experience training as a mental health nurse, I tried to work out what sort of basic care I was entitled to. I knew that my care should have been easily transferred to another community team within a few weeks. I knew that I should have been assessed by a psychiatrist, who would look at whether or not my medication needed to change. I researched the teams and their referral processes. By finding out what they should have done, but hadn’t, I was able to formulate my complaint.

The aim of the complaint was not just to have a moan at the NHS. I wanted them to realise that I had slipped through the net and for them take action to rectify the situation. Making a complaint wasn’t just to help my individual case. I hoped that it would help others in my situation in the future. If the NHS know what they are doing wrong, in some cases they can make sure it doesn’t happen again. Of course many issues may actually be due to funding these days, but there are other ways for you to take action. Get involved with your local mind charity. They run all sorts of campaigns and events aimed at making the government take notice of mental health.

So what came of the complaint in the end? Well actually way more than I could have imagined. My current trust acknowledged the hardship I had been put through and arranged for me to be assessed by one of their community teams. They sent me a full apology signed by the director of services. As a result of actually being listened to, I was referred to the complex needs and personality disorder service. In the end I was under that team for 3 years. They put me through some pretty intensive therapy and honestly it did me so much good. Back then I couldn’t have imagined how far I would come. I certainly never thought I would be working a full time job, enjoy my relationships and take part in blogging and other forms of activism. In a way you could say that making that complaint changed my life.

Self-care checklist with hints and tips

Note: This plan is specifically tailored to my needs. You’ll need to adjust it.

Everyday Essentials - (Activities you MUST do every day to stay well)

Shower/wash/other basic hygiene

Put on clean clothes

Take your medication as prescribed

Eat 3 meals a day

Get between 7-9 hours sleep

Everyday Recommended  - (Extra daily tasks to boost wellbeing)

Talk to someone - make contact with a friend or family member even if it’s just a text.

Get time in the sunlight - Even if you can’t get outside, get those curtains open, vitamin D does wonders.

In A Week - (Weekly activities to aid recovery and keep you well)

Plan your week - to do list/shopping list/meal plan

Creative time - Minimum 3 times a week.

Relaxation - Every other day, more if you can.

Socialize - Meeting up with people at least once a week.

Exercise - cardio 3 times a week, yoga at least once.

My Self-care Tips

1. Get organized! - Get yourself a diary or create a timetable. Being organized works wonders for me. If I don’t attempt to plan my time then I know I personally will end up sitting in bed playing games and watching netflix in my pajamas. I also keep a food and mood diary and take part in meal prepping, which means I still get to eat healthy food on the days I lack the motivation to make it.  

2. Start with the basics and build up - Often my downfall will be trying to take on too much at once. When my mood pops back up after a low, it can be easy to get fooled into doing too much to try to “make up” for lost time. This only results in your mood crashing back down from exhaustion. Take it slowly. If you only get 1 thing done a day then that’s still cause for celebration.

3. Set a daily goal - I try to spread out errands and tasks throughout the week, as opposed to getting it all done in a couple of days. Things like making appointments, doing housework and responding to emails, it’s much easier to set them as a daily goal. My diary is brilliant and even has a little box to enter your goal at the top of the timetable. You can add your own or even get a chalkboard or whiteboard to write it on.

4. Reflect on your week - Reflection is a huge part of recovery. Being able to look back and see your progress is a great motivator. It also helps me to see when I can add more activities or if I’m lacking in an area. Keeping a journal is a brilliant way to do this.

5. Learn to say no - Balancing your life is no easy task. Often friends, family and work will want things from you. Whether that’s offering support, attending social events or putting in a few extra hours. There are times when all these things are happening at once and you notice your mental health starting to deteriorate. This is the time to prioritise what’s important to you and this might mean saying no. It’s okay to say it. It seems scary, but the people who really care about you won’t be angry at you. More often than not they’ll understand you rearranging to protect your health.