Likely to be a regular feature while I’m in acute mental health services. Today it went something like this. Back in the day, when I first developed my spinal problems, I was prescribed large numbers of prescription strength co-codamol. They were handed out in boxes of 100, on repeat prescription, for years, as I detailed […]Read More Catch of the Day
I’m ill, which means I need to access mental health services, which in turn makes me more ill. Oh the sweet irony of NHS mental health care. I write this in my GP’s waiting room having just had an encounter that was almost as unpleasant for the doctor as it was for me. As ever, […]Read More Dry your eyes, mate
Like everyone, bad things have happened in my life. Some have been done to me, and some, I’m ashamed to say, I’ve done to others. Yes, at times in my life I have been a complete cunt. Years of therapy (man) have helped me move on from childhood shit, from blaming parents for omissions, for […]Read More I can forgive, but forgetting’s the bastard.
I was sorry to read today that TV presenter Ant MacPartlin was “going into rehab” after admitting a struggle with depression, alcohol misuse and addiction to prescription drugs. Although McPartlin is in no way my cup of TV tea, I understand that it must have been incredibly hard to have stayed at the top of […]Read More What’s the difference between Ant McPartlin and a civilian? Rehab is not an option for most of us
Are you one of those folk who ‘don’t really understand’ mental health problems? Pull up a chair, my friend.Read More This is how it feels.
I know I am currently suffering from hypomania. It’s not pleasant but one of the funnier effects is lack of inhibitions. This manifested itself in the pub yesterday afternoon. I’d been trying to enjoy a quiet pint but it was marred by a group of about eight young men in suits, slick haircuts, reeking of […]Read More Sticking it to The Man(ic)
My experience of being in the Royal Free hospital following an overdose.Read More Hospital Fun
Recently, I was unfortunate enough to suffer a period of poor mental health. At my wit’s end, I went to my local Crisis House in North Camden. If you’ve never been in this position, I can tell you I didn’t take the decision lightly. Crisis houses are not fun places to be, and I was […]Read More Camden and Islington Refuse Crisis Care to Vulnerable Adult
I hardly even know where to start on what happened over the last 24 hours. After voluntarily admitting myself to an acute psychiatric ward, I soon realised it was a frightening and unsafe place, with half-naked people screaming, spitting and shouting throughout the whole ward, and staff doing little to stop them. I’ve been on psychiatric […]Read More 24 Hours in Hell
I’m sitting, for the millionth time in a thousand years, in the afternoon, in a pub, on my own. I’m almost certain I’m the only woman who drinks on her own in pubs at any time of day, let alone before the sun’s over the yardarm, but my personal disregard for both male privilege and […]Read More Lament of the lone (female) drinker