Tag Archive: law


My Lord, What Love Is This?

I can’t remember how I started thinking about this a few minutes ago, but I’ve just been grossed out, outraged and horrified by a piece of Church teaching that has never really hit me as so horrific before. It’s been presented as something good and deeply loving and pastoral and sadly necessary, without question, totally uncritically, and I along with many others have swallowed it, accepted and validated it in exactly the same way.

It is about the way God (and, by extension, His leaders, both temporal and spiritual) supposedly disciplines us.  He has been likened to a Middle Eastern shepherd. They lead their sheep from the front, apparently.  They have names for all of them (if it still works that way).  Jesus said His sheep know His voice and won’t follow another.

We have been told, so I suppose it must be true, that if a shepherd had a sheep that was constantly wondering off, he would break its leg and carry it until it was healed.  During that time the bond between the shepherd and the sheep would become so strong that the sheep wouldn’t wonder off after its leg had healed.  Wow.  How deep.  How lovely and romantic and heart-breakingly beautiful, that a shepherd could love his sheep that much – we are supposed to think, and feel, and some of us have, for many, many years, and grieve that we make it necessary.

I know this is going to offend a lot of people, but I think this thinking is warped and comes from a sick mind and makes its recipients and adherents sick, blind and cruel, to and about themselves and others.

Even if that shepherd thinks he loves his sheep, he is deluding himself, maybe because of the demands of the job and his need for it, and not facing the fact that he is raising them for one sole purpose: to be butchered, slaughtered, killed, violently deprived of life and end up on someone’s dinner plate, feeding someone’s selfish, animal appetites – these days, maybe mine.  And in the meantime he is causing an errant sheep pain by breaking its leg just so he doesn’t have to keep going to find it when, with its awesome, cute and endearing little personality it doesn’t always go where he wants it to go on its innocent and oblivious, happy little journey to the slaughterhouse.  So it might get attacked by wild animals. He is raising it to be killed anyway, so rescuing it can only be an economic and employment contract concern.  Where are his love, joy, humour, delight, relationship, humility and respect, in, with and for the animal?  So as I say in my title, what love is this??? How is this really a model of love in any kind and healthy person’s mind?

The Middle Eastern shepherd would lay down his life for the sheep.  Among other things, he would get them all into the pen at night and lie down and sleep at its entrance, to protect them.  And yet he was taking them to certain death.  That was the purpose.  So maybe this was required of the shepherd by his employers rather than being anything like the act of love and devotion it is presented as.  This has been far too romanticised and idealised outside of its economic context.  I wonder why shepherds were a despised group?  I’m sure that, with their mindset (if, as spiritual principle makers would have it, there was love and concern for the sheep involved), they must have had many emotional and mental problems.  I’ve often thought this in recent years reading David’s Psalms.  But everyone loves King David, and so should I.  I mustn’t touch him.  I’ll get myself strung up, by all sorts of people.

Oh, wait – I already have done!  Would someone please be so sweet and so kind as to cut me down?

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Yesterday in my blog entry I said I thought the people I believe are trying to communicate with me and get me to go to them should be coming to me, and I thought I should clarify my reasons for this.  I did state my position on it years ago, from which I have not, by my actions and commitments, deviated very much, although I have given in to emotion and feelings of urgency (mine and others’) from time to time, but my position remains the same.

First, I think it is an abuse of power for people to use media or any other platform to put people on the spot at a distance by identifying them to themselves and others in various ways, while not actually naming them and fully and openly committing themselves to the communication.  They assume the right to do this while giving themselves a get out clause if, for some reason, they don’t like the person’s response.

Second, in my case they seem to be saying that, now they are actually convinced of what I have been saying for years, and now they have read my defences and explanations, everybody’s doors are wide open to me, I am not alone, I have support if I will respond.

a) That should ALWAYS have been there.  Instead, they decided it was all a mental health issue and distanced themselves from me and everything I said.  Apart from that, they are still hiding behind the same stuff they have always used.

b) I believe what they have been doing to me has been a human rights abuse from the beginning, and they are prepared to continue with it if they don’t get the required response from me: the media targeting, invasion of privacy, gang stalking (even if it is from official and so-called responsible people), computer hacking or collaboration with other sites I use (I don’t know how it works, but how else would they get some of the information about my internet activities that they have (see yesterday’s entry re: John Baldock and St Matthew’s Church)?

“I believe that to abuse a person’s legal and human rights until further information comes to light that makes you think it might possibly be time to recognise and respect those rights again as long as the person co-operates with your terms, is neither justified nor reasonable.”

I just made that up.

For everyone they try to convince that they are a special case in the way they are being ‘reached out to’ for restoration (Church terms, I think, rather than legal), there are many others who, for one reason or another, are not receiving the same overtures.  I said years ago that I stand with other involuntary mental health patients whose legal and human rights have been butchered and who have been virtually abandoned and invalidated, along with their perceptions and true assertions, because of the prejudice and stigma which are attached to their mental health diagnosis and are possibly the original cause for it in the first place.  There are many people who appear on tv programmes these days whose voice of gratitude for their diagnoses is promoted.  I don’t know, I haven’t checked this statistically, but I think there are many more who, like me, are not grateful for diagnoses or the ways they have been treated.

I feel a lot of pressure and less-than-honest expectation is being put on me to show a right heart and attitude.  I think I have to question the heart and attitude towards me of the people who do this.  I believe I am showing a right heart and attitude, but I hope it is towards others who have been similarly disenfranchised rather than people who want to secure a nice relationship with the odd individual here and there and come to a loving understanding rather than come clean unilaterally about their abuse (hate crime, if you will) and give proper legal redress, leaving the person, and other people like them who might likewise find redress as a result, free to decide if and how they want to pursue any further relationship or affiliation.

To me this is not a position of pride.  Committing it to a blog entry like this makes that clear to me, although I have often felt as if I’m just being proud and pretentious.  I think it is the necessary position in view of the legalities I believe need to be met.  Rights are not the same as privileges, so I heard in Church.  They are not given and conferred, or even stolen somehow, but are recognised.  I believe that we all have the same rights, and we all have the responsibility to recognise and respect those rights for everyone else.  We may lose privileges, but never rights.

Here I stand.  I believe I should do no other.

Have I Learnt Something?

Everyone knows the background and experience from which I am saying this, so I won’t go into it again.  I think I’ve learnt that MY life and the way I actually WANT to be treated doesn’t matter to ANYONE.  No one takes anything by faith, they want to see what THEY believe to be evidence first, and even then they insist on their own terms, hiding and justifying their crimes of stalking and corruption.  I’m scared to say this, I feel as if I am committing an indecency and outrage.  My heart is really soft, I’m always aware of my own failures and inconsistencies when I say something like this.  At some point in Church I was taught that we shouldn’t defend ourselves.  That confession of sin should be confession of sin and we should make no excuses.  One pastor, at least, said that as Christians we have no rights.  I suppose that must be ordinary Christians like me, not Church leaders, who seem to feel they have the right to twist and break the law in relation to me and maybe call it discipline, I don’t know what they are calling it anymore.  The expectation seems to be that they call and identify from their studios and platforms and I should respond.  Or are they deliberately trying to keep me alienated by continuing to do something they know I believe is holding onto their corruption and criminality towards me, as a mental patient in particular?  Are they just identifying me to others, in my hearing, should I choose to listen, and criticising my life to hide their own crimes?  Sometimes I really think so, that I think I matter too much if I actually think they are calling me by these methods.  Shouting out and bullying and cowering behind the trenches, wheedling and pleading, bitter, acrid, sugary, anything and everything except send an email or something that puts any power into my hands and takes any responsibility.  I have so many memories.  That’s just the Church, let alone secular media.  And those memories are added to daily.

THIS Is MADNESS. . . .!

This is madness! What is people’s argument, that the whole world is illegal and I just have to pay my money and take my choice? My neighbours are harassing me, the media is harassing me, the police haven’t been there for me, the mental health authorities refuse to acknowledge there is a problem that is not in my head. The problem in my head seems to be that I believe people should observe legal boundaries and respect people’s rights in the way they relate to them. People say they are bound by professional roles and obligations, so really they are not available and not prepared to acknowledge the facts staring them in the face. Their livelihoods might be on the line. While in the meantime they use all sorts of bullying and subterfuge and subliminals, etc, etc, to get YOU to open up, but then, what will they DO with it? They say they are there to help, they SAY, and I’m sure some of them mean it, but how far will they actually go? And how blind and brainwashed are they? My neighbours keep reacting, are they hacking my computer? I don’t know, they react WHENEVER I begin to think creatively or independently and my feelings start to separate. There is a woman who keeps pelting out the most contemptuous hallelujahs. I don’t know how big the group is next door or who they are really, but it feels like teamwork. There is a man who keeps ranging from emotional to anger, occasional sounds that hit me as violent. They are up now, keeping vigil, even at this time of night, goading me and making me spew all the time. It’s like a psychic interrogation. I shout back at the constant harassment and disturbances, and when I do it’s usually the woman who puts me under the cosh of the most terrifying hallelujah you ever heard. Sometimes now I can keep my emotions under control and shut myself up, but I don’t always succeed. I know there ARE Christian groups that do this sort of thing to people, but I think this woman is hate filled. Maybe so are they. It’s total contempt, I’ve shouted at them loads of times that they are harassing me and they refuse to stop. It’s constant comments and last-wording it, through the wall, not observing legal boundaries or respecting my privacy. Every time I enter the lounge she pelts out a hallelujah, if I fart they comment, if I cough they comment, if I belch they comment, or laugh, it’s intimately invasive and degrading, when I put my media on she shouts hallelujah, then goes on to comment and hallelujah all the way through, often dependent on the rhythms she hears, I think, but also nearly always seeming to be psychically connected with my thoughts and feelings and any development of thought and perception. Killing it dead, every time. And I’m left feeling I’m the one in the wrong, because I have reacted with anger and verbal abuse to their harassment, in my absolute terror and unwillingness to condone or in any way affirm it or reward it. Every time something comes on the tv or radio about children, babies, child abuse, they are there, commenting and going insane, so I think they are trying to blackmail and manipulate me with accusations of paedophilia. Tonight I shouted that I am a paedophile and not ashamed, just to try and get them off my back. But it’s been going on for weeks now, if not months. I expect them to start again tomorrow. And when I tell the mental health authorities this sort of thing is happening they say it is an auditory hallucination that is following me around, so I’ve been scared to say anything, because they are in your face contemptuous, patronising and hypocritical with their aggressive so-called caring and insist on putting you back on ‘medication’ or putting you on a section 3 for forcible treatment in hospital if you won’t comply. My neighbours know this, it is one of the things I have shouted through the wall at them, several times, first of all in an attempt to get them to take responsibility and go to the authorities because their word will carry more weight than mine, and more recently to tell them that they are taking advantage of my position to maintain power over me. I have been told by psychiatrists, or nurses, or both, that at least I am truthful about not being willing to take medication, many people say they will, collect the prescription then don’t take it, they say. I’m beginning to think I am too truthful for my own good. I don’t want to play the game, I want to bust it open. I owe it to myself, at the very least, to be able to do that. I was thinking a little while ago, having shouted that I don’t want to give in to my neighbours’ manipulation (I should also have said bullying, and blackmail), maybe we all just manipulate and overpower each other for what we want, and you are a happier person if you can accept and acknowledge it. Hey, I’LL accept and acknowledge it, I can do that. I can be happy with that. At least, that was what I thought when I thought it. Lady hallelujah is still sending out little gas pellets at my head and confusing me. I settle on one thought and feeling and she drives me in a different direction. All the time. At every turn in thought and feeling. I’ve said it’s occult. It is certainly, at the very least, illegal, harassment and nuisance behaviour, and torture, a constant drip, drip, drip of the same word over and over again. I have likened it to dripping tap torture that used to be used in communism, according to at least one book I read by someone who has been there. I think it was Richard Wurmbrand, Tortured For Christ. I read it in my early to mid teens. Except it’s not a drip, most of the time it is searing and blood-soaked (please don’t anyone tell me it is the Blood of Jesus, or the martyrs, or anything like that), enraged, blood seeking. I have to commit to saying, this woman hates me. Even if yet another interjection has changed my thoughts and feelings about saying it.

Thank God for toilet breaks!  I can think, at least a bit, in the toilet.  I was thinking, people say that sometimes civil disobedience is called for, and wondering if that is what some of the people in the media who seem to want to help me think they are engaged in.  If so, I don’t understand why they don’t respond to the emails I have sent them, not in a committed way, not in writing.  I was brought up to believe in the rule of law, but if the administration of the law is corrupt and blind eye turning, how can someone in my situation trust to that alone?  So I’m wondering if people have been waiting for me to come to a position of accepting that before they are willing to acknowledge my emails in any other way than theatre.  I’ve not really felt able to justify it to myself, looking to the media, but maybe it IS time to engage in civil disobedience over this and accept the help of those who see themselves as being so engaged.  But my position has been that it is stalking and illegal, and if it wasn’t happening then people wouldn’t be being put in mental hospitals for saying it was happening to THEM.  For it to be done in the name of religion is appalling, people should have some refuge somewhere.  But isn’t it appalling for it to be done for ANY reason by ANY organisation, religious or secular? And isn’t it subterfuge and making pawns of people to seem to be offering help and support, knowing they have a diagnosis of mental illness for saying this is happening, but not committing themselves when you try to avail yourself of it?  OK.  Then there is all the abuse and dishonesty within the mental health system, where people know that, in some cases, this is happening to people, because it affects THEM and THEIR involvement as much as the person they are involved with.  The UN says that forced psychiatry is torture, but to be honest, delicate little flower me with my delicate ego, I’ve found it ALL torture.  The woman laughed when I typed that.  I am sure they are hacking my computer.  And they’ve kept murmuring ‘yes’ in places, as if encouraging me to continue.  The problem, as I have said, is not primarily in my reactions.  There should be no harassment to make me need to regulate my reactions.  I feel a fool for having the wrong attitude, but there is no right attitude with this.  I can hear them hedging and reacting to everything I am typing.  SHE is INCREDIBLY aggressive and devious, using all sorts of tones and inflections and twists in posture.  And I am really afraid, as everyone knows, of being seen as mentally ill in my communication, because of the consequences.  I feel as if people have been riding me and messing me about for weeks, at least.  OK, that’s it.  She’s still muttering, every time I try to come to a stop.  I feel totally controlled by her, emotionally and psychologically.  By both/all of them, I’m not sure how many are involved at any given time, but especially by her.  For tonight, it ends here.  I hope people will accept this as a truthful, factual and sane communication.

Giant Niggles

1.  People who pepper their conversation with ‘like’.

2.  People who ride their bicycles on the pavement.

3.  Women who talk in a little girl close to tears voice and expect to get what they want all the time.

That’s all I can think of at the moment.  I might add more later.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-africa-24720069#TWEET937913

This prison is exactly like psychiatric hospital acute wards in the UK, except for the electric shocks, the acute wards don’t do that.  They call people’s credibility into doubt as well in the same way that doubt is cast on a psychiatric patient.  The news story this links to shows a guard being interviewed and acknowledging that electric shocks were given and that inmates were forcibly injected.  There is a man who says he wasn’t a danger to anyone and my own experience gives me no reason to doubt him.  The fact that he is a criminal doesn’t mean his testimony about this isn’t reliable.  A man was injected for complaining about the food.  The guard says that inmates had to be made afraid of them because they are few, even though they knew it was against the law.  Psychiatric hospitals are the same.  Most compliance comes from the fear of the consequences of not complying.  It is torture and terrorism.  Someone has to help us.  Please.

Paranoid?

One of the questions I used to get asked by psychiatrists was ‘do you think anyone is trying to harm you?’  My answer now would have to be ‘yes, I do.’  The man who viciously slandered me saying I had chased him up the street with a knife obviously has done something injurious to me.  I did not chase him up the street with a knife.  I didn’t chase him, and I never had a knife in my hand when outside my flat.  Other things have also been made up, presented out of context, or exaggerated.  Yes, someone has been trying to harm me, and has succeeded.  He is not the only person.  Other people have spoken and acted injuriously also.  I know what they have said and done, and have documented some of it in this blog.  It isn’t paranoia and shouldn’t be called paranoia.  That is bad practice and a miscarriage of justice.

Am I Just Gullible?

What I don’t like about Szasz is his position that we are all entitled to take drugs.  It seems to me that this is a position that people would have good reasons for opposing, and I myself feel that his argument against institutional psychiatry, which I agree with, is undermined by his position on so-called recreational drug use.  We all know about ‘bad trips’ and I don’t know if bad trips would be eradicated if the supply were officially controlled and therefore ‘pure’.  I suppose no one else knows either, and that because of the effects of ‘bad trips’ it isn’t something that could be tested out on scientific research volunteers or paid people, the risks might be too great.  I do not feel as supported by his argument against institutional psychiatry as I would like to feel because of this.  I myself do not have a history of drug use, and cannot say that I know that people with such a history are not helped by psychiatric drugs.  I wish he did not take this position on recreational drugs.

I’ve also never really read or understood any Foucault, I just know he is a big name in French literature, philosophy and politics, and I’m only using those three classifications to make sure all my bases are covered, because to me he is just a name.  I have got a book of Essential Foucault from the library, though, which I intend to read soon, with my other reading.

Also I get confused at the moment because I am feeling more or less OK and that the only thing which is negative about my present existence is that I am having an injection every two weeks.  I do realise that people could say that I am feeling OK because of the injection and not in spite of it, but my feeling of OK is very limited, because I am a lot more inhibited than I was off medication, and hopeful that people in the hospital will see that I am really OK and don’t need to be on drugs.  I can more or less cope socially and feel that I could before as well, even if things could have been interpreted as being more painful.  There is an argument for saying that other things that break down are sent for repair and things added to them to make them work right, so why not me as a person?  But inwardly I am constantly so much hoping that I will be taken off medication, and I resent the abuses I experienced on other wards that led to the decision to restart medication.  Abuses like being told my problem with door slamming was all because of my mental illness, for instance.

I phoned Richard at Macmillan Close yesterday because I was sad it hadn’t worked out and wanted to tell him so and that I thought he had been really kind to me.  I’m sure it was an easier conversation by phone than it might have been face to face.

There are so many things that confuse me in the Bible.  I was just thinking that Paul says to submit to authority and to obey every law instituted among men for the Lord’s sake.  But Peter and the apostles were told not to preach anymore in the Name of Jesus and Peter told them they should obey the Lord and not men, and preached anyway and got flogged, and imprisoned, and an angel let him out in the dead of night.  I suppose again it is just a matter of confidence or of no confidence whichever of these church leaders give to any one of their people at any time, or opinion as to which they preach to a congregation.  Yet they say obey your leaders as if they really have a divine right.  You can only go so far in obeying your leaders.  Surely honesty recognises that their own denomination probably exists because they or someone before them did not obey a leader?

Mish-Mash Musings 2

In my last post I wrote about how the Church, during the Inquisition, used to ‘relax’ people into the hands of the state so they could be burnt, and wrote about the parallel drawn by Thomas Szasz between this and the mental health movement.  He said that in a religious age ‘heretics’ were ‘relaxed’ into the hands of the state, but in the so-called enlightened age the parallel is that society turns to the mental health movement for the upholding of the dominant culture.  However, the Church is part of the society which does this, and does it itself.  So for the mental patient who is also a Christian, there is no ‘comfort’ for them in religion.  The mental health system is part of the new way of dealing with ‘heretics’ for the church.  The church believes in this, or says it does, and largely it accords the mental health system the same authority as the rest of society does, except for some people.  It might decide that some people are really not mentally ill and try to help them, but on the whole it validates the mental health system and its ideas.  So someone like me can become very isolated since the Church refers me back to the mental health services.  Admittedly I have not been to every existing church, but the ones that have been part of my life to date have all said the same thing, that they believe I am mentally ill, so accepting the categorisation in the first place.  Many other religious bodies do the same thing.  Scientology does not.  I have only recently discovered that Thomas Szasz had links with Scientology.  For some people this will put them off him, but there are others who hold the some of same views who do not have those links, the writers and editors of This Is Madness, for instance, and Foucault, and R D Laing.  R D Laing was ridiculed for turning to Buddhism, apparently.  I was told this by one of the nurses on Rowan 2, I think, and they said how ironic it was that the psychiatric system is itself now looking towards things like mindfulness as a way of raising people’s consciousness.  They wouldn’t call it raising people’s consciousness, but essentially that is what it is.

I’m not on Rowan 2 at the moment, I was transferred to Newark on Friday night. It is a place like Macmillan Close, complete with door slamming!  I’m not sure how I feel and I hope it is not a matter of my choice, because there are pros and cons with both.  I was told at 6.30 pm on Friday evening that the transfer was going to be made and that I had no right to refuse.  Steve, who was on duty, told me it was only temporary and that I am expected to go back some time this week, citing my housing situation and residence in Nottingham a a reason for me going back.  However, the staff in Newark are under the impression that I am here long term and that housing can be dealt with from here.  I’m confused and feel very disorientated.  I said I didn’t want to come because I don’t know Newark, and that seems to me a good reason at the moment.  I have been homeless 2 years now, Friday was the anniversary, and it can’t be good for me to keep being so uprooted.

Mish-Mash Musings

I’m not sure why I have called this Mish-Mash Musings except that I know where I am going to start but not where I am going to finish, which I suppose is OK if I’m not writing an essay but a blog entry, and not hoping to make Freshly Pressed (though I would love to).  I feel like trashing this already and starting again, but I never trash anything I write, so I’m afraid it rests.

The place I am going to start is with an incident I read about in a book called ‘The Manufacture of Madness’ By Thomas Szasz.  The book compares the mental health movement (his term, not mine) with the Inquisition.  It says that the two things are the same, in that first they decided what one was (heretic, witch, mentally ill person) then they went looking for them and treating them as their law allows/requires/demands.  With heretics and witches under the Inquisition he talks about the church ‘relaxing’ heretics out of its own hands into the hands of the law and legal process – a bit like the Jews did with Jesus, because they had no law to put a man to death (see also John 16:2, “Anyone who kills you will think he is offering a service to God”).

In psychiatry, if the psychiatrist says you are mentally ill and you say otherwise, it is said that you lack insight.  I know this and Thomas Szasz also says so.  He has us down as the people that are called paranoid schizophrenics.  This has definitely been my experience.  Under the Inquisition unrepentant heretics were burned alive, while those who changed their minds were strangled and then burned.  The incident a read about the other day talked about a man who, faced with the fire, said that he would convert himself to the faith of Jesus Christ, and that this was apparently a time of great rejoicing for the inquisitors, where the hugged him and welcomed him back into the arms of the church, then immediately afterwards they had him strangled and burnt.  Thomas Szasz draws the same parallel with psychiatry.  I’m not sure if Thomas Szasz wanted to see an end to all psychiatry or only the enforced kind, but he did say in this book that the inquisitors didn’t want too many heretics to be burnt whereas they shouldn’t have been burning any at all.  The Inquisition was torture, and Thomas Szasz says that so is psychiatry.  That has certainly been my experience.  He talks about having the idea of mental illness accepted by the popular mind, just as heresy used to be so feared and so treated/punished.  Both the Inquisition and psychiatry had two purposes, one for the protection of society and the other for the ‘good’ of the accused/patient.  By putting the word ‘good’ in inverted commas I am staying true to the message and spirit of the book, as well as owing the inverted commas as my own.

I have been reading quite a bit about Transactional Analysis as well.  I’ve read (again) Games People Play by Eric Berne MD, the founder of TA, and I’ve Just started reading I’m OK, You’re OK by Thomas A Harris MD.  Dr Harris points out in the opening pages of his book that not only do the words Parent, Adult, Child have different meanings from usual in this context, but so does the word OK, so I’m looking forward to reading this book to the end.  I didn’t read it when it first became popular because a Church I was in said the message was untrue to Christianity which says we all need redemption because we are not OK.  There is also a chapter in the book about this approach to human relationships in the context of morality, which is a chapter I am looking forward to reading.  Dr Harris advises against just dipping in or reading the end first as understanding is established and built on from beginning to end.

Sharon

I think Sharon must like bad publicity, because she certainly seems to be going out of her way to get it.

She keeps whistling at me.  She also keeps saying ‘babe’ around me.  Yesterday morning when I went into the clinic room because it was depot day, she stood outside for at least 5 minutes like an armed guard.  I felt harassed and demeaned.  She has pushed medication from the beginning.  I saw a film some years ago where a boy went into the headmaster’s study to be physically punished.  When he came out a female member of staff was waiting for him and started to make strong physical advances towards him.  That was what I thought of when I came out of the clinic room in regard to what Sharon was doing.  I went and sat down in the public area in front of the office and she came and sat there as well, and every time I spoke she whistled, or started speaking at the same time or something similar.  She did it twice today as well, once when I went out in the afternoon and I made a face at her in response, and once this evening when I was in my room and someone kept yelling and banging something really loudly and I shouted shut up.  She whistled at me then as well.

When I first met her we were sitting around chatting and she seemed to be misunderstanding everything I was saying about time seeming to go faster when you are older because when you are young you don’t have the perspective of age and things seem to last a long time.  She put it down to impatience if things seemed to go slowly.  Then someone called her away and when she came back she seemed to me to blank me.  I have got used to that happening over the years.  The next day I was making noises like in the Goons and I engaged her in conversation about it and Spike Milligan and she asked me if I was on medication.  I said no I was medication-free and I intended to stay that way.  She coughed very uncomfortably.  I believe I was relatively happy and normally confident at that time.  I felt strong, now I feel weak and vulnerable, more than I did then.  I talked about quantum physics and the fact that it says that everything which is observed is altered by the fact of being observed.  I heard a programme on the radio a little later saying the same thing and that the thing observed seems to know when the microscope or whatever is switched off.  She said it was a load of rubbish and that she knew better than quantum physics.  I was offended because those kinds of snippets are things that I happily and cheerfully incorporate into my view of life and my anti-psychiatry/anti-drugs position and to me it is coherent.  I just accept what they say and she was disrespecting something she didn’t understand.  That attitude frightened and angered me.  I told her with a little strength but not offensively or over-angrily, I believed, to eff off and she started finding fault with me for saying that, but it was just in a throw away fashion it might have been in a not overheated discussion between friends.  Also I had said something about brainwashing, and she said she wasn’t into that.  When she told me off for saying eff-off I said what about all the things they say to us, including the diagnoses, that we are supposed to receive meekly.

A little later the same day, or the next, I was sitting watching television with N and she came up and picked up a newspaper and sat down.  Someone came on the tv I knew from listening to the radio and she said she had been in something or other I had not heard of and I was off and snooty with her and said I didn’t know what she was talking about, which I didn’t.  But I tried to make it clear I didn’t want a relationship or conversation with her.  She answered me starting with the last note of what I had said, saying I didn’t want to have an argument with her, and I said if she wasn’t into brainwashing why was she using the same note to start that I had finished with, after making her silent observation for a few seconds.  It sounded menacing and I felt harassed.  N started shouting at me and as is the fashion no one cared what it was about, the argument, they just told us both to be quiet, like children who can’t communicate, or dogs that need separating.  Sharon sat there while I was there and I got up and went to my room because I believed if I did she would get up and walk away.  She did.  I think I had made it clear after the previous conversation with her where she claimed to know more than the quantum physicists but also was disrespecting my position of valuing their insights and being able to incorporate them into my view of and approach to life that I didn’t want to talk to her.  I told her, when she asked me how I was, that I would feel a lot better if i was being looked after by people who respected people who knew more than them.  This is where the mimicry started in earnest from other staff, I think, and the picking up for something unrelated where I have left off.

I remember Alan McMurtrie, my old English tutor, told a story about the praying mantis and that the female was observed to eat its mate after sex.  But when the observation was moved further away and wasn’t an intrusion, the female stopped doing this.  It’s similar to the quantum physics observation in some ways.

Update 18.08.2013 It’s as if they think they are the ones who should shine.  It seems to be more about them being wonderful people and nurses than about me as a person, what they call patient.  Sharon is calling everyone ‘my swede-art’.

Bad Afternoon on Rowan 2

Jim has been on for the last two days.  I asked him if I could talk to him and it didn’t materialise either day.  When faced with situations which aren’t presented to him as talking he seems to have two modes with me – one is slightly crazy friendliness – tongue -poking, winking, etc, and the other is grabbing me by the arm and making me go wherever he wishes.  I think I have had another bruise left on my arm today.  I have quite a nice collection.  The one on my stomach remains the most pronounced, from being kicked.

This afternoon Re started on me, being rude, saying I had been kicked in last week and to shut my mouth.  I had forgotten that she had been there and wondered where she was getting it from.  Kiran came out from behind us at the noise and Re started to spin her a yarn and she said ‘I know, darling’.  Jim came out and told her she could go outside (it was my understanding that he asked/told her to move away, and she did.  But then she came back on the phone and I got upset and I thought he had asked her to move for my sake, so I started getting really wound up and they came out and told me if I didn’t calm down I would have to leave the ward.  They might have said I could.  I said something and Jim grabbed me angrily and started forcing me up the corridor.  I think Tracy was involved, Sean was definitely involved, and they grabbed me roughly, and I can’t remember what I was saying but they wouldn’t listen.  I know I said that when I was upset there was a reason, but that one minute they were nice and the next they were doing that to me.  I said they were the ones who were schizophrenic.  I hope there are people reading this who recognise the reason in what I said.

I wanted to go to the toilet, and I told them and they told me the toilet in the corridor was open.  It wasn’t.  I told them I had no money to go anywhere and they wouldn’t open the door.  I confronted Kiran with what she had said and she said she didn’t have to discuss it.  I said she had a duty to discuss something she had done which was an issue to me with my care.  I believe she has a personal duty if not a moral one.  When I got back later they were playing laughing, giggling hostesses.  I said if they wouldn’t discuss it with me then I will tell who I like how I like, and that I chose blogging.  While having dinner I was saying stuff about abuse and assaults and that in any other situation than a mental hospital or a prison I would be told that my first concern should be my own safety and that I should get out or get a restraining order against the perpetrators.  I seem to remember you can do that with the police these days, though I don’t know in what circumstances.

In the meantime I went outside and met the boyfriend of one of the other patients, and he let me literally cry on his shoulder.  I ended up going to the multi-faith room and Katya was there.  We had quite a stormy time.  I felt angry with her for what I felt to be her broad brush approach.  I can’t by any means remember everything we said.  We did a meditation at the end, and I wondered if in any circumstances a meditation with one person would permit them to cry and scream and come out the other side feeling washed, not repressed.  It said something about noticing the sensations in your body and not judging them, and at that point I asked if it would be OK to cry and scream.  I talked about repressing emotions being a way of judging them, because if you didn’t judge them you would just let them happen, even insist on them and your right to express them, as in other situations where social steps forward have taken place.

I went back for dinner and it was as I have said.  Katya had talked about fighting fire with fire and how it wasn’t good, and I said that was the staff, in their relationship with me.  I said I wanted to go out and asked for someone to open my door.  I demanded it, as far as I dared, rather than asked.  Tracy said she would come.  I said I was going to find out whether or not I had an obligation to go back on the ward since I had been forced off.  She wanted to talk reasonably, she said, but I told her I didn’t want to, that you can’t go from being unreasonable to reasonable whenever you felt like it.  I She said when I tried to find out if I had an obligation to go back on the ward to make sure that I told them I wasn’t the innocent party.  She just walked away, went into the clinic room and slammed the door locked behind her.

I talked to my ‘Old Wife’ who very kindly let me have a cup of tea on the house.  Both she and Katya said I should go to the Women’s Centre.  I phoned the police afterwards and asked them if I had an obligation to go back under the circumstances, and they told me there was no bar on me going back and I could go back when I liked.

But I have to go back to the same possibility of abuse and assault all the time.  In any other situation I could walk away and never go back, if I chose to deal with it that way, with impunity.  I’ve had verbal assaults and abuse from staff and patients, but the only physical assaults I’ve had really apart from last week were from staff.  My section is supposed to be coming to an end this week.  I don’t know what they are trying to do with that.  I really would feel safer on the streets.  At least I would have my benefits back, and be able to pay two lots of storage every 28 days without feeling it so much.

I can’t have special people on the staff, i can’t try to make friends of them, because the truth is that when I need them they are either not there for me or they lose it for some reason, regardless of former tongue poking and winking.  Jim did that because he felt like it.  He was really angry and he turned that into an assault he could rationalise professionally, to other people if not to himself.  Terry was on the ward.

Tracy acts as if she is the one who has a right to offendedly and pettishly disengage and not talk.  She walks away and leaves you in pieces behind her.  for me she leaves me wanting to get my own back.  I think the patient has a right to disengage from nurses or staff they don’t get on with, but these people are betraying relationships all over the place.  They overheated and dragged me and pushed me out, with no money and wanting to go to the toilet.  They left me crying on someone else.  When I turned round a nurse was watching me from inside, and walked away as soon as I turned round.

If you express concern for these people and their personal circumstances they take it for granted.  If you don’t who knows what they think, but you might feel less human, until met with a situation like this.  I feel very human in my hatred and distress at the moment, and my deep rage and anger, and hopelessness.  I said to Katya that I wanted to laugh but that there was nothing to laugh about, that it would be belittling it.  I said if they are going to call me mentally ill they should do something to make me feel better and give me hope, not give reasons for considering suicide.  I have something in my religious background that says that suicide is the ultimate act of manipulation, so I feel guilty saying that.  I feel I know better, but I can see no way out of this.   In ordinary situations of abuse and assault you are told that in no way is it your fault, but this is different, we are told.  ‘If you don’t we will have to’.  Like, ‘look what you made me do’, ‘I had no option’.

I listened to Blake 7 last night on Radio 4 Extra.  That was interesting.  It  could have been written about me.  It says rebellion is not a malfunction, but an imperative.  The woman says she hates the system and she doesn’t want to rejoin, that it has murdered her friends and robbed her of her identity.  This is just sci-fi, but it is more than that.  For me it is serious.

What is happening to me in the hospital is demeaning, degrading and dehumanising.  It isn’t about being friends with the staff.  I don’t want their so-called solutions.  I would happily be friends with some of these people, but they are unavailable for friendship, both ethically and by nature of what they do, professionally and not so professionally.  I’ve said it is like living in a gangland and that I would not choose to have such people in my life, and nor have I chosen to be there, but that there is no support or protection.  I don’t act like most of these people and don’t want to.  People have started calling on Norma around me.  I feel like the new Norma.  She said the other day that people should speak to her because she was not allowed to speak or to shout.  She is very quiet these days, i hardly hear her at all, and she used to be very voluble.

I am a victim.  I do not have a victim mentality.  I want to leave and repair my life.  I do not have a victim mentality.  Any more than any other abused group has had.  They have been made victims by other people.  They wave Section papers at you and use it as a cover for all kinds of abuse.

They don’t take Kerry off when she is being violent and abusive or behaving in ways people don’t like.  They let her get on with it.  One of the women who had a go at me last night then got nice had a go at me again today, and stuck her middle finger up at me as I was pushed off the ward.  Tonight she is not going to get such an easy reconciliation, if she wants one.  For me it is heartbreaking, because I didn’t do this to other patients when I first came on the ward, but people who didn’t know me then and how active I was in speaking out are doing it to me.  It seems obvious to me, though it might sound ludicrous, that the staff wanted to use me or silence me, while at the same time ‘treating me as though I am schizophrenic’.  It is obvious to me that they don’t like what is happening and the representations on TV and radio, but they don’t want to acknowledge any of it to say they were wrong about me.  It is hypocrisy and terrifying abuse.

Saturday 10.08.2013

Well, what a day, and I don’t mind telling you.  I’m sitting in a hotel restaurant drinking a non-alcoholic Mojito, because I wanted to avoid a certain HCA at dinner who keeps insinuating herself on me.  She would probably have been serving.  Today she was playing the ‘how have I upset you today‘ game, as if it wasn’t obvious.  She still has not, to my knowledge, admitted swearing at me etc.  Everything she does to me is out of bounds.  She has a daughter who sometimes works on the ward as well, in the same capacity.  I wouldn’t have thought that was good practice. There is another mother and daughter among the domestics, and a twin set also among the domestics.  I don’t think any of that is OK but certainly I don’t think it is OK to have two HCAs on the same ward from the same family.  That is called nepotism.  How can that be professional?

Police came this afternoon.  Wasn’t really after a statement.  One of the first things he did was accuse me of spitting, as if dealing with a playground fight instead of the complaint of someone who has been physically assaulted.  It was like we have to sort it out.  He wanted to know why I didn’t want to talk to Kerry with him there.  But she lied, apparently, according to him.  She said I assaulted her and she kicked me in self defense, and nothing could be further from the truth.  I never touched her and didn’t move as she came at me.  Apparently the witness has been reported as a missing person.  I told him I was afraid she might have a gang behind her or something but he was insistent she did not.

Went out for breakfast this morning with another patient, then went with her to Boots and Clarks.  Went to the Alley Cafe for a sandwich and a vegan version of Guinness.  Sat in the Market Square for a bit watching the fairground rides and the pigeons.  Passed a lot of police, including PCSOs.  God loves police people, the same as He loves the rest of us.  It’s just their misbehaviour affects people more.  I passed a PCSO this evening and wanted to go and thank him for making himself vulnerable to protect us.  Passed a lot of boisterous and loud people and decided they weren’t all drunk and/or disorderly.  There is a hen night to the right of me.  I feel as if I am raining on their parade, doing this.

Would people run from the police so much if they didn’t expect sass and force?  Don’t know.  Feel as if I need to come back into line with ‘the majority of law abiding people’.  The occasional bit of bad behaviour, inefficiency and violence doesn’t make a bad cop, does it?  Unless I am its victim.  I am very tired again.  Seeing hospital as home.  Too much over-familiarity coupled with fear and anger for straight and appropriate thinking and perception.  I feel really upset and disorientated.  My section ends on 16th August.  I’m hoping they don’t renew it.  If they do it will be for a year this time.  It really is an abusive atmosphere, I’m not wrong.  It takes its own rightness for granted and has too many physical powers, not to say illegality as well.

Who Do You Think YOU Are?

I was told this morning that my key nurse has been changed.  i said I was a bit disappointed that what I had said in anger had been so quickly acted on without talking to me about it.  I was told it was an overall decision that couldn’t be gone into that much.  I wonder if all the changes I have had over the last 17 years have been as a result of decisions of the same nature.

I found out because I asked to speak to my new key nurse not knowing she was my new key nurse.  I wanted to tell her that while I didn’t want to be churlish about not seeing my psychiatrist today, if the only reason she wanted to see me was because I had requested a sleeping tablet to be prescribed for me I had rather leave it.  I said that I was concerned that I had had no structured support since I was assaulted and no one had really asked how I was in connection with it.  I said that I had even been left to myself to decide whether or not I wanted to involve the police, and that since I am meant to be mentally ill I might not be in the best state of mind to decide for myself, and that it had happened on their premises and the woman was in their care, not mine, and that I am also in their care.  I said this is not a one off thing and that I have said things of this nature are happening to me in the community but what I have said has been put down to schizophrenia.  I said I didn’t want to talk to my psychiatrist hoping and believing that she might soften and modify her position in light of what has happened and that the effort should not be having to come from me putting myself in that supplicatory position with an authority figure who might remain distressingly adamant.  I said it should be being treated as an emergency, extraordinary event and that there should be some form of trauma counselling.  I said there had been a witness, as it seemed that this was not known, I was being told that I had said it happened and they had seen the bruising, but it is far too casual.  I’m hoping that on Saturday, when the police come, they will be wanting to take a swab or whatever it is called from my clothing to establish a shoe came into contact with my stomach.  Dr Bradshaw was in the office a couple of days ago when I mentioned it, but her only concern appeared to be that she should see me about the sleeping tablet.  On reflection, she might have been concerned but be trying to maintain confidentiality, but it seems to me to have been a little too opaque.  But perhaps I should go back for the review, I don’t know.

I was shocked and didn’t believe it when my nurse told me there was no provision for trauma counselling as such.  She said I was seeing my psychologist anyway and didn’t seem to pick up that this was a separate event and should have been treated as an emergency.  It also didn’t seem to make an impression that I said the next time I am due to see him is on the 27th as he is on leave for 2 weeks.  She said this is an acute ward and things like this happen, I said yes, but I’m a person, not theory.

I asked her as well, as an adult, that since in any other abusive situation I would be able to take myself out of it, how did it stand in law under a section 3 when I am being abused in an environment where I am supposed to be receiving care, what were my rights.  She asked if I meant being moved to another ward and I said no, there is no guarantee that it won’t happen there as well.  In fact as far as both staff and patients are concerned it has always happened wherever I have been.  I think my experience as a patient in this setting is not unusual.

I can’t afford to keep going out for something to eat but I don’t like having meals there anymore, I feel harassed and intimidated.  Kerry went to the hatch effing and shitting and no one pulled her up about it.  If it had been me it would have been different.  I’m feeling too much guilt about a supposed lack of gratitude on my part when all I really have here, apart from a duty not to be abusive without provocation, when It just comes out sometimes because I am upset and tired and stupid, is rights, a right to protection, a right to respect, which includes a right to be believed, in my opinion . . . .

Old ‘Wives Tales

I spoke today to someone who turned out to have been a midwife before her present business.  I told her what had been happening to me in hospital, the forced treatments with PRN medication and the restraints, and I find this hard to believe since the practice is so widespread, but she told me that what happened to me is illegal, but that it happens all the time.  I don’t know if it is equally true for people on a Section 3 or not.  I know where this lady is, she will be there for the long term.

While we were talking I said to her that I had thought earlier, but had forgotten to put it in my post, that the question ‘can I help this person without putting them on drugs’ does not seem to be one of the questions on a psychiatrist’s check list.  I told her I was homeless and she asked me if I was in a hostel, I told her no, I had had problems at home but they had said the problems were just in my mind and had put me in hospital, and she seemed outraged.  I told her I thought I went too quickly and cynically to the political view of things, but she said she thought it was right, and when I said that they always said there is so much call for beds that they don’t keep people in unless they are really ill, she was skeptical about that as well.  In fact thinking about it, of course she should be.  I heard someone say that the psychiatrists are the front men for the drugs companies.  Of course this is right.  Jesus, help us.

She also said that the fact they have acronyms for things doesn’t make them legal.  But if all this really is illegal, how come they are getting away with it?  I can’t understand this.  She was adamant that it is political and not a health thing, and I said that I believed that as well, but that it was different hearing it from a professional.  Of course, though, many people in other branches of medicine have no time for psychiatry, but she said the practices are actually illegal, and this is a different professional perspective for me.  I hope she is right, because then there might be some hope of dealing with this.

While I am here I might as well say that no formal support or counselling is in place to help me deal with what happened yesterday with Kerry and the kicking.  They’ve basically said talk to us if you want to, but they know how I and some others feel about talking to them about anything and it seems to me there should be something solid and more formal with appointments in place.  I have had no support offered with this at all except informally, apart from the fact that a young student took the details of what had happened and said it was to my credit that I had handled it calmly and had come back to the staff.  But it was completely by chance that the woman who agreed to be a witness for me had been passing at all.  I don’t know what I would have done otherwise or how it would have been handled.  One of the other patients told me when I got back on the ward last night to be careful because she thought she was going to try and provoke me again.  No one has followed me up and asked how I am after it.  I think I am more alone in this than I should be.  I would have thought that in a situation like this other disciplines should have been involved as a matter of course.

What actually happened yesterday was that Kerry had been vocally trolling me all weekend.  She said I was full of myself as well.  One of her friends said I had deserved it when something happened, either that I was forcibly medicated or dragged out of the dining room by staff (I wonder if Kerry knows that I am virtually a Londoner?), and yesterday she was sat outside on the pavement near the doors smoking with Sa and Re, and I passed them to go out and said see you to Sa and Re but not to Kerry.  She took exception to that andsaid something about carrying on like that and I told her what someone associated with my care had told me, that staff on the ward had listened to things I had said and tried to make changes, i told her I had been there 3 months and that many changes for the better had happened because I had fought for them for people like her, and she started doing a really horrible voice at me and I spat in her direction twice.  I was nowhere near her and it had no hope of reaching and obviously wasn’t intended to.  She got up and said I would run away then asked if I was spitting at her and I said yes, and waited as she approached, and she kicked me in the lower abdomen.  Someone was passing that I asked to be a witness and she agreed and she got kicked in the ribs, but we both went back to the ward to report it.  If this woman had not been passing I don’t know what I would have done.  So that is the whole story.

I’ve called this ‘Pastiche’ because i wanted to mention a few things.  I thought there were four but I can only remember three at the moment.  I’ve already covered the first.

When all this started with the mental health system, after my first admission I came back to Nottingham and spent a while with my uncle and going to Church at Talbot Street.  One day in London I bought a card intended for David Shearman’s birthday, a card with dolphins on.  I can’t remember if I sent it or not.  It was in Victoria Station in London, in the days before they had any public seating, and I was feeling beaten up and exhausted.  I bought a bag of fruit and nuts and sat on the floor in front of a store, and I was approached by security guards who tried to move me on.  I said I was tired and didn’t want to move.  Eventually the police were called and it was quite nasty and when I got to the London Transport Police Station I was met by this oldish officer and I was really upset and I told him I hadn’t even been told my rights and he took me by the hair and told me I didn’t have any.  I was sobbing loudly in the cell and when I was released the officer who let me out told me it would be all right.

The other thing I wanted to mention was a girl who was on the ward here, this time around, called Michelle.  She hardly ever spoke at first and when she did start speaking she was quite aggressive, but in the first place i took to her because, as I told Terry, she reminded me of a woman who tried to get close to me when I was working as a volunteer at an HIV respite care centre.  This woman did not have long to live and I left shortly before she was expected to die.  After talking to Terry about it I felt horrified that I had basically walked out on a dying woman that had warmed to me enough to move from a little suspicion to coming to sit next to me, without speaking, if I came in and sat down.  I can’t express the depth of horror and shame I felt as I saw it that way, just about three months ago.

I have my radio on sometimes in the evening and on two nights Michelle, who I didn’t know was the woman next door to me at the time, banged violently on the wall, and I was afraid because I didn’t know who it was.  When I found out sometimes I would vent in my room if I thought she was disturbing me in any way,  and I would vent at her.  So I had gone from being friendly and saying hello even though I got nothing back to being verbally angry with her.  Sometimes she barged into me in the kitchen and started shouting at me.  She was verbally and physically aggressive to other patients as well, and one day I heard a nurse telling her about her behaviour and she didn’t want the police back.  I can’t remember if this was the day she was being generally aggressive and she ended up coming to me and spitting on my hand.  I was so locked up in myself at the time, so depressed, I didn’t feel anything in particular, I just looked and ignored it.  I wasn’t offended, in fact I felt a bit relieved.  I have thought about it over the past 24 hours and realised again, if not for the first time, that that meant I meant something to her, she was angry and she spat at me.  Later on that day or the next I wanted to say to her ‘thank you for spitting at me, I deserved it, and if you feel you want to spit at me again any other time you have my permission, and I won’t retaliate’.  I struggled with that all week, and I never said it, and then she disappeared.  I feel i failed her.  I keep thinking she must have gone to a more secure place or something and that if I had just dared to be vulnerable enough I could have helped her.  I feel really upset about that, and it isn’t a distress I feel proud of.  I failed her, and I resisted God.

Definitely for the first time in the last 24 hours I thought about the phrase ‘hatred is the flip side of love’.  During that period my thinking has been, accurately or not, that that phrase is seen as negative but it could be seen positively and it would be more helpful if it were.  She spat at me = she loved me, she trusted me.  She kicked me in the stomach = she was angry and disappointed because she had a need or positive expectation that wasn’t met.  I heard J John use ‘AHEN’ as an acronym for tracing anger back to its root.  Behind anger is hurt, hurt comes out of an unmet expectation, and expectation comes out of need, in this progression.  Part of me wants Kerry punished, the other part doesn’t.  But I have little hope for the relationship.  I am tired and cannot cope with her needs.  It is possible that I am interpreting her craziness as a deliberate attack on me rather than an attempt to help herself, which it might be.

What I do find difficult about patient confidentiality is that it does separate people who would be friends, sometimes.  You’re not sure what is what most of the time.   It leads to a psychological isolation if you don’t or don’t want to trust or validate the staff approach or system.  Can do, if you are someone like me in my position, anyway, but for the rest of us as well, I am sure.

Here is the fourth thing I was thinking of.  There was something on radio 4 this afternoon on the afternoon play that reminded me a lot of Tommy Boyd on the radio.  I was thinking last night that I wanted to be welcomed back into the fold and that I wanted Tommy to be the one who did it.

I am feeling very soft and vulnerable at the moment, but also angry, possibly, but i find myself wanting to get on with staff and even validating what they have done, and I’m just not sure.  The Bible says let a righteous man strike me it is a kindness.  What does that mean, is it right, or was it just a depressed king talking rubbish?  Listening to Tommy Boyd led me to want different forms of child discipline than smacking, so how can it be right for me as an adult, the restraints, forced medication, etc.  Joseph said to his brothers ‘you meant it for evil, but God meant it for good’, but this is supposed to be meant for good.  I’m sorry, I’m so tired and I feel very tearful.  Probably over-impressed with the depth of my perceptions in this post.  Crying over what a precious and deep person I am.  That’s better, that has made me smile.  What has made me smile?  The thought that Terry might read this.  I stare at him sometimes and I think it makes him feel awkward, and I don’t like that.  I told someone the other day that when I stare at him like that it is because I think he is beautiful at that moment and I am awestruck.  Suck on that one, Tel! 🙂  Much obeisance.  Much love.

Kicked in the stomach

Today has been a day from hell.  Kerry had a go at me again, staff didn’t help, it escalated, they wanted ME to go to my room, at lunchtime, 30 minutes before I was due to see my psychologist, they brought medication, after 6 women, at least one of which had been nagging me in the dining room to calm down, had been standing around in the corridor near my room.  I said I didn’t want medication, that I wanted to speak to my psychologist with a clear head, and they said if I was shouting I wasn’t going to see him, so I accepted oral medication so that, if unchallenged, I could pretend to swallow it then spit it out.  I decided to hang around the communal area so that he couldn’t be sent away in my absence.

Kerry kicked me in the stomach this afternoon.  I have been told by one of the young students that even if I report it, because it is an acute psychiatric ward, I might not be separated from the threat.  I hope she is wrong.  The staff mismanagement of this has caused this situation.  Yet I feel it is my fault.  I had my door locked on Saturday, for the first time since being there, then told myself my suspicions were racism and my objection to her trolling outside my window was the same.  I told myself she had been risk-assessed and that she would not be on the ward if she was a threat to other patients.  I am tired this evening and have kept bursting into tears.  I feel even if I were to press charges successfully it would be a sign of failure on my part.  As a Christian.  There are no adequate words for my distress and desolation and fear at the moment.

There is a new patient on the ward, Kerry, a tall, black woman who has been harassing me for days and calling me racist every time there is a conflict.  She accuses and abuses me in religious terms mingled with hate words like bitch, says fuck God and Jesus, etc, and when I have taken issue with it the approach from staff has been to tell us both to be quiet.

Jim came back on the ward this week, he is doing nights.  He seems to think that all he has to do is turn his lovely face on me and all will be forgiven.  Or maybe it is just me that thinks it should be that way and I need to free myself from that requirement I have of myself and from the power of the need I want met by being able to do that.

His first night on was last night.  He was on with Sue, the nurse who told me to f off then lied about it and has since been calling me love and darling.  I find that aggressive and mauling, especially in the particular circumstances with her.  Last night (Sunday) I asked Jim if we could have some time to talk.  I was upset about things that had happened in the day (I didn’t tell him that), and he said no, he had things he needed to catch up on, but he would try today, but wouldn’t put anything in the diary because ‘sod’s law doesn’t work that way’.  So everything is handed over to the whims of sod’s law then, is it, with nothing to oppose or raise as a goal?  I noticed that before midnight he had time to sit around the office having casual chats with the members of his team, including one from Eastern Europe, asking her about her family, but he didn’t have any time to talk to me, and he has been away 5 weeks or so.  During this time other senior members of the staff have also been doing duties off the ward, following, it seems, my blog post about the ‘bust up’.  Ruth, the ward manager, approached me a few weeks ago saying some of the staff were hurt and upset about the fact their names had been used in my blog and that she had been advised that if I didn’t remove the names they could.  I haven’t had that in writing.  I think I should ask for it, through my advocate.  I tried to settle to sleep last night and after midnight I found I couldn’t, so eventually I went out to Jim and said I couldn’t settle and needed either ten minutes to talk or some lorazepam to help me settle.  He told me they weren’t allowed to have one to ones after midnight and that I would have to have lorazepam.  Last night was at my request, though a begrudging request.  Tonight they forced an injection on me.

Tonight Kerry kept winding me up and picking on me and eventually Judita, one of the health care assistants, told me she thought she was doing it on purpose to wind me up.  I asked her why she hadn’t tried to stop her if that was what she thought and she asked how she could.  I said she should have told Jim, the nurse in charge tonight.  Kerry started calling me racist, saying she was black and I am white, I told her it was nothing to do with race, it was just that she was harassing me and being a nuisance.  She started saying I thought I was something and saying that everyone was scared of me but too frightened to say so because I had physical bulk.  I said no one was scared of me.  I felt it in my womb every time she started on me and I interpreted it as something to do with her energy and the nature of her accusations (I think now this might have been wrong, that the fact I felt it there was more to do with the oppressiveness of the whole place and power), and I said I wasn’t a prostitute.  She has told me she had been, in what I thought was a good and promising conversation yesterday afternoon, and I felt sympathy for her, because she was on benefits and her father, she said, was a paedophile who had hurt her and her mother had thrown her out.  But tonight I realised she had had no moral necessity to go that way, not everyone who has been a victim of paedophilia does, and I said there were plenty of agencies which could have helped her and that being a prostitute had been her choice which not everyone in her position makes.  She was also saying she wanted a spliff, so I realised she was a drugs user.  Someone else told me they used cocaine, and suddenly I began to wonder why I am here, subjected to everything I get from the staff, whether deliberate or incompetent, when I don’t use drugs, I don’t hear voices, I don’t have a drink problem, and although I can shout when angry to defend myself I am not violent.  When I shout it is because I am angry or afraid or FEEL violent.  It is a substitute for violence, not a lead up to it.  At one point Jim came and told Kerry to behave, but then it started all over again with her being blasphemous and vile, and I was telling her not to attack and accuse a child of God.  She was saying she was Satan, and all sorts of things, then when I started telling her to leave me alone she started to mix in Sarah instead of Satan, out of the Bible.  No one was moving to stop her.  I threw a plastic coke bottle across the room at the floor.  It didn’t hit her, but she jumped up to attack me.  I was sitting down and I put my foot out to keep her at a distance.  I told her I hadn’t thrown it at her and she insisted I had.  Jim came out to tell her to go to her room, and I felt immediately calm and safer.  Then he told me he wanted me to go to my room.  At first I said I would because I wanted to go to the toilet but I said I didn’t want him in my room while I went to the toilet.  Jim said he wouldn’t be in my room, they would be outside.  I went to my room, then got angry at how unreasonable and unfair it was, and kept coming out shouting things, like they had just given Kerry permission to do that again any time she wanted to, that I had been calm when she was taken away from my space but now I was not calm because what they were doing to me was unjust and the dispeace I now felt was a direct result of their actions towards me.  Perhaps it had also, before, been a result of their inaction in what they knew was happening.  They said to ignore her, and I said I couldn’t because I couldn’t just walk away and be able to stay away, I had to keep coming back to it.  I told them they had no comparable situations in their own lives which were not a matter of their own choice, and that it was unreasonable of them to tell me to ignore it.  Staff had said to me on Sunday that they knew she was a problem and that I should tell them if she was upsetting me.

Anyway, I kept coming out of my room and shouting things about respect and dignity and unjustly robbing people of theirs when they had not been the problem, and I kept scuttling back to my room in fear of what they might do to me if I stayed in the corridor, so I came out of my room and confronted it in those words, saying why should I have to stay in my room and not be justifiably angry and say why for fear of what they would do to me.  I think they came and asked me to go to my room again and I refused, saying they were causing my distress by their unfairness.  I was speaking loudly, if not shouting, I hadn’t touched anyone.  Given that the law says I cannot be manhandled if I am not a danger to myself or anyone else I understand what happened next to have definitely been illegal.  They grabbed me by the arms and started dragging me to my room.  Altogether in the end there were about 8 people involved, one of whom was called Mark, who had hold of my left arm.  Adem from Redwood 2 was another.  When I said they had given Kerry permission to do what she liked whenever by what they were doing to me he shook his hand off at me and turned his back and started walking away.  As soon as we got to my room they told me to get down on the floor, and I said I wanted to go to the toilet, and they said I couldn’t.  At first I thought they might let me go but they forced me down face to the laminate flooring and told me to calm down.  I said I had good reason to be angry and that I wasn’t going to become calm for them if this was the way they thought they could enforce it.  On my way to my room I was telling Jim I wanted a change of key nurse and that I didn’t want another, that he was a hypocrite and however proficient he was in philosophy he was not fit to be in charge of this situation.  I told him I would write in my blog.  I also told Kerry that I wouldn’t protect her by using only her first initial as I had for other patients, that I had no legal duty and recognised no moral duty towards her.

At one point I said while I was sitting on the bed before they put me on the floor that I hadn’t been violent, and Mark said ‘not yet’.  I have never been physically violent to people here, even though provoked, as he was provoking me at that point.  When they had me down they wanted to gentle my arms and I told them to stop, saying they should choose between violence and assault and being gentle, but not try to mix the two.  I asked them to turn my radio up because it was interesting, but they wouldn’t.  It said at one point that if we acted in real life as we might in a lucid dream we would act more kindly.  At around that point they withdrew from my room without saying anything.  They kept stroking my arm, stroking my hair, and given what they were doing I completely resented it.  At one point they told me that this had been my choice, when it evidently had not been, they grabbed me and forced me down.  It was their choice.  People who act like this often tell their victim of assault that it was their own choice when that is factually a lie.  They turned away from reason.  At one point someone said something to Mark and he spoke jeeringly.  I said that was what they had done to Jesus.  I said they were evil and that I was not going to make that any more palatable for them.  I told them not to sigh at me but to go and deal with their own relaxation needs away from me.  I called him or them bastards and Mark said ‘that’s right, I am a bastard.’  Something was tickling the bottom of my leg and I told them to move their hand.  I was told there was nothing on my leg.  At the very least it might have been my own trousers.  I called them mental sadists who would swear that black was white then call me racist for using that expression.

They came with medication and offered me tablets or it would have to be an injection.  Bearing in mind I was calm when Kerry was removed, immediately, and that this second distress was their doing.  For them it seems to be all about power and being obeyed and not being seen to back down.  They are very high handed then won’t back down even if their unreasonableness becomes apparent, and they just go ahead obeying orders as a team even if personally they think something else.  In a situation like this I think that is not acceptable human behaviour.  They broke my metal watch strap.

After they had gone I was still shouting, even from the toilet.  I passed the office and Jim was laughing with his colleagues.  They were taking a position of not needing to acknowledge me while I was shouting, even though they had just visited a physical assault on me.  So they sat there pretending, in every way available to them, that I wasn’t there.  Jim seemed to be mirroring the rhythms of my voice with his body language.  While I was on the floor in my room they wanted me to shuffle so that I was properly inside my door.  They said something about my dignity.  I said I didn’t care what they wanted and if they cared about my dignity they could restore what they shouldn’t have taken from me in the first place.

In conversations with people I have been told that Jim does not hold grudges.  I’m beginning to doubt this or that it was ever an appropriate thing to say anyway, as if there were not issues that needed to be discussed and he was blameless.  I think they removed me from that situation because they didn’t want me there calm and rational and back in control of myself without their intervention, but all they did was make me feel worse.  I felt no feelings of violence at that point, the feelings of violence, (against my beliefs and convictions?) and practices, came directly out of their assault on me and everything that went with it.  If they can perpetrate an act of assault and violence on me, why is it not seen as acceptable if I reciprocate?  Even to acknowledge the feelings is to open myself up to detrimental decisions about me from the staff.  This tonight has been a deliberate act, out of control or coldblooded, of subjugation and humiliation.  I feel that something happened after I wrote my ‘bust up’ entry that took so many key staff off the ward for so long.  I think talk about illness is lies, eg back injuries.  One person I do believe, I talked to him yesterday morning (yesterday being Sunday).

I confront with words when I feel necessary.  They react and confront with threat and physical force and injections.  And yet am I to feel I should make exceptions for them and concessions to their so-called humanity?  I am supposed to be protected at the moment at least in my room, let alone I think what they have done tonight would have been illegal anyway, because I wasn’t a danger to myself or anyone else.  Free speech which is not unprovoked defense or harassment should not be seen as being a danger to anyone.  So Kerry is fat-ist, I’m dangerous and violent because I am fat.  How many other people are approaching and judging me that way?  I don’t blank people, I listen, that is my problem.  I listen and think.  Thinking that way is her problem, but her communication is so quixotic it cuts me to the quick.

The time when Jim said please in a way which was so painful to me afterwards, something else came up in the conversation and I said that they weren’t the ones being threatened with the closest thing they could get to gang rape, meaning forced medication if I didn’t willingly comply, on a regular basis.  He put it in my notes that I had merely meant being asked to go to bed so they could clean the chairs.  I don’t want this relationship to be retrievable now, I don’t like what he does.  But for me that is hurtful because he has this knack of making me feel as if it is one of the few that does anything like work.  His responses were visceral tonight, calling both me and Kerry selfish people, for a start, because people wanted to sleep.  But when I continued to be angry until and beyond 12.45 am he made no attempt to stop it, just ignored it, and I believed his appeal to people wanting to sleep had just been self-serving in the first place.  He was unreasonable.  He was telling me to calm down when he had just made me uncalm again, and he himself was agitated.  Unreasonable, unjust and illegal.  I said they should join Mugabe’s regime, that what they had done was so wrong and unjust they must be deliberately and knowingly participating in social engineering.  Also I said I had won by letting them play out the full extent of their savagery on me, because now I can document what happened.  I think Jim must be afraid of me to treat me this way.  I still don’t know why he was calling out ‘say you’re sorry, apologise’ from the office that day.  It had been one of the things I wanted to talk to him about and find out what it was about.  Meeting tonight didn’t happen either.  He didn’t even think it was important enough to insist on making 10 minutes for me.  He told me he had to do an admission.  I’m sure the admission could have waited 10 minutes.

Also the reason it is difficult for me when this kind of thing happens is that my love and trust and obedience kick in just because, for over a year, I haven’t really been touched by anyone else.  I can be sitting next to complete strangers and want to rest my head on their shoulders and maybe look for support.  I want love and hugs.  I’ve heard from the church that physical force is OK and should be submitted to, that it can turn people to obedience, which is where they should be.  I find this situation too cruel for words, and also my own requirement of myself within it.  I don’t go with this anymore.  Adrian Plass said in one of his books that when he had an interview with the main man at work when he was working with troubled children, the man lay on the carpet and let him talk.  Something else as well, he didn’t react punitively to someone who broke a window in his home, or something.  He loved him, from what I remember.  I can’t remember if this is also Adrian Plass, but it is definitely Tommy Boyd, that if someone came at him he would hug them from behind until they calmed down.  Those are my values, the awesome perceptions and right modes of operation, in my eyes.  A hug without further threat, even though seen as restraint, with no further threat, could easily be accepted as love and the kind of physical contact we are made for.  Men who won’t hug me here will restrain me as they did tonight.  I am struggling to recover my humanity.  I’m 52, childless and menopausal.  I feel now as if saying that is just manipulation, but I think and feel that having to feel that way is appalling.

Update 15.07.2013

Last Friday the decision to restart medication was communicated to me, almost 3 weeks after the SOAD interview.  Myself I think this is appalling and I have never experienced it before, and when I have mentioned it to staff in other areas they have said they found the delay a bit strange.

I am still quite disorientated, attaching too much emotional importance to some relationships, strictly speaking and according to current official guidelines on boundaries.  Now I’ve said that I am questioning it, but certainly I don’t think much about the future, occasionally my anger erupts, a lot of the time a lot is being fudged for me.  I feel as if I am being tamed the same way as an animal might be tamed, with punishments and rewards.  Not having much privacy, if any, for writing my blog I’m not doing a very adequate job.  I’m sitting in a Wetherspoons pub at the moment.  Not many people in this section.  I came to download something from the internet.  I’ve just remembered I did make quite a few notes last week which I intended to be for a blog entry.  I haven’t got round to using them yet and I don’t want to use them at the moment.

I spoke to my psychologist this morning.  He was talking about boundaries to protect vulnerable patients.  I know technically he is right.  I just saw something else on WordPress about game approaches to mental health.  I’m not sure if this fits here.  I feel upset and disorientated in this pub.  Jim, my key nurse, is on night shift tonight.

I have been trying to deal with a personal offense between myself and a member of staff.  I have been trying to approach it as a personal thing, not a professional thing,, but so many other people are somehow involved without me having given it to them I feel disorientated and confused.  I am desperate, I want to scream, and I feel as if it is my fault, that I am failing.  And the truth is I am, but also i am getting confused with all the people either inputting or piggybacking or sometimes, I feel, blocking, and I keep finding fault with myself and knowing, when I am alone, that I’m not handling it right.  I’m not feeling great in here, I’m not seeing things straight.  It matters to me, but I feel as if I am trying too hard to do something and that can’t be right or good.  Underneath I am raging because I feel as if I have been manipulated and bullied into this position.  I’m really upset, really tired, quite afraid, and I’m not sure what is happening.  I’ve been suppressing laughter for quite a while out of respect and sensitivity to this situation.  What I am afraid of in this instance is that we are not going to get satisfactory closure.   I’ve seen this person cry.  I’ve seen a few people cry.  Staff.  It seems to matter to me so much I am worried about why.  But in my mind I am contradicting myself even as I am typing.  There is a lot of psychological violence I am experiencing from some staff.  This is not a personal relationship, so how can I handle this powder keg?  We both seem to be trying.  I have thought this person’s tears were about this issue between us but I have realised I might be wrong, and my greatest fear is that if I raise this I might not get any answers.  That matters to me.

I have been trying, sometimes, to respect the office, in general, if I can cope with the person filling it.  But I have realised that, a lot of the time if not all the time, I believe it is the office itself which is evil.  I have been taught to respect the office when dealing with authority and officials.  I have had disturbed sleep for the past three nights.  I am much more distraught than I am showing.  I feel as if I am at home or in church, not a place I hate and despise.  There is so much laughter underneath, and tears.  My sense of humour keeps having a go at me, but often I am afraid to show it, or ashamed.  That will do for now.

PS on the practical side, as well as the delayed SOAD decision and broken sleep caused by noise on the ward, mainly, I think, staff talking and even shouting last night, and slamming doors, on Friday and Saturday morning we had no water on the ward.  I managed to brush my teeth Friday morning but there wasn’t even enough for that on Saturday.  I mentioned it when my psychologist asked me what I do for self-care and he asked if we had been given any warning and i said not that I had been aware.  Also in the shower we get four one minute jets of water for everything we want to do, and they are not awfully powerful.  If I want to wash my hair I have to load my sponge up from the basin and basically give myself a wash down and use the shower for my hair.  Even then I still find I need to put my head under the basin tap two or three times even if I use the shower only to wash my hair.  I think this is a contributory factor to my low mood.  I think a shower should be a pleasurable experience, but at the very least it should be sufficient for everything you need to do in it.  It feels like very basic survival.  I’m in a hotel restaurant now, just had a coke.  I feel like a very miserable and repressed wet blanket.  My mood here has been better in the past.  My psychologist said I seemed vulnerable this morning.  I can’t remember if he said emotionally vulnerable or what.  This morning I was not totally unhappy to be feeling vulnerable.

Going back to the relationships issue, I am getting very confused.  I have started thinking about the role of community in handling what I had wanted to deal with myself.  I’m getting confused because I feel as if the level of expectation of me from myself and others is inconsistent with the fact that I have a diagnosis of schizophrenia and am not expected to be fully functioning anyway.  Something happened last night – I said something, i can’t remember what or who to, then I made a joke of it saying I was speaking to an hallucination, and didn’t the person know I had hallucinations.  I don’t, it was a joke of sorts, but I became afraid it might be taken seriously as consistent with my diagnosis and documented.  What seems strange though was that the shift manager laughed when I said it (oh yes he did).  That seems to me to have been inappropriate.

I feel I have done violence to myself this week by requiring of myself, maybe feeling it was required of me as well, that I stay quite serious.  On Friday I became very upset after an encounter straight after I had been injected with a test dose of the drug they want to use (I have been given no information about it).  I remained upset for hours and no one came to help me until the end of that time, and I found her approach intimidating.  I thought that to leave me in that state, especially at that time, was mental cruelty.  They always have left me.

Update 30.06.2013

Last night the light was turned on in my bedroom at about 2-3 am.  I was asleep and it woke me up and I was very upset and angry.  They told me they had to do it, I said they didn’t and it had only happened about 12 times in 17 years.  They told me to stop shouting.  I said at some point yesterday that if people in our position being treated as we are start shouting in anger and hysteria it should be understandable, but that when carers shout at us it is not acceptable and it is not our fault.  About a week or so ago Sh___n, the nurse who pushed the patient out of her way with her foot, started saying something I have had them say several times down the years, that if you give respect you get respect.  When they have said that they have been talking about patients who don’t get respect because they don’t give it.  I said that is OK among equals but that it is a playground rule, not OK for nurses and doctors and domestics to use against patients.  If we supposedly have mental health problems and are having things done to us we don’t want and being abused as well, we might find it hard to be respectful in our state of fear, anger and hysteria.  Yesterday morning K__h the domestic hammered on my door and presented herself in my room arms up and talking loudly.  I told her that when people hammer on my door it shocks me so much that I don’t answer them.  I asked her why she couldn’t knock quietly like Jim did when he knocked on my door.  She said she was sorry she couldn’t change the way she knocked, it was just her, and I said she could if she knew it was upsetting people.  She grabbed L___a who was passing and asked her to come in for support, and she stood in my room and she said my music was nice and they were having a smiley conversation with each other with Linda standing there exuding security guard and smiles.  I said they wanted me to change but didn’t want to change themselves.  I was also angry that they were in my space presuming to say that my music was nice and I didn’t like the fact that they were doing that.  A few weeks ago Sh___n knocked on my door and I was trying to insist on boundaries with her because she had offended me before.  She asked me something, I said no thanks or words to that effect, and she started commenting on my radio, after having been insistent on her own agenda towards me already.  She asked me where I had bought it from and I said I couldn’t remember and it was obvious I didn’t want to talk to her.  She asked if she could have a look and I said no, but she insisted on coming into my room anyway and touching my radio and ran out.  I tried to remonstrate with her but she blanked me and went to another room then told me she was with another patient.  To me it was about staff respecting my boundaries, as so many issues I have had here have been.  I just thought of the patients’ charter and looked it up as I have been meaning to for a while.  I looked at the section on respect and it said you should be asked whether you want to be called by your first or last name and should have your choice respected.  I was offered that choice once on a general ward, I’ve never been offered it on a psychiatric ward.  In London I fought unsuccessfully for years to have them call me Sue rather than Susan, and ended up really confused about myself and what I called myself, to the extent that I felt I had betrayed my parents by shortening the name they had given me.  I started to feel that Susan was the real me and Sue a false me and I felt superficial and artificial for having called myself Sue for so many years.  I felt ashamed for having decided to call myself Sue and sometimes I still do.  When I insist on it it sometimes feels as if my name is nothing to do with me and nothing I say about anything matters or is reliable.  I’ve often objected here to being called love, duck, darling, dear and sweetheart but no one takes any notice.  They say that is the way they are and they do it with everyone.  Sometimes they seem to be quite aggressive and purposeful in doing so.  There are two of us who sometimes object, that I know of.  When I was in London I fought for years just to be called Sue, not Susan.  I said once or twice I would like to be called Miss Barnett.  No one took any notice.  It’s about boundaries and presumption.  They all assume and presume so much, and for patients in my category that damages lives.  They make decisions with legal implications in my life.  And recently, as I have said, there has been deliberate dishonesty and maybe illegality.  In fact I would say there is a lot of illegality.  They wave section papers at us as if that gives them absolute power, but as well as the legal power of these papers is all the illegal abuse they get away with.  ‘You have to this, that and the other because you are on a section’.  Is that really true?  Do I really have to have my life subjected repeatedly to people who deliberately abuse and lie and misrepresent apart from the powers they have under the mental health act?  Not only that, but some of them seem just plain stupid and thick and insensitive.  Yet they say I have no insight.  They don’t like the insights I have.

Apart from the light being turned on last night (it was the night before as well) There were doors slamming through the night and a lot of shouting almost non-stop between 6 am and 9 am this morning, after which it went strangely silent for quite a long time.  I noticed that when my key nurse had been in charge of the night shift recently there had been no disruptions that I had been aware of for those three nights and we had all seemed to have a peaceful night.  There were no rude awakenings in the mornings either.

I remarked to someone last night that in just the same way that we don’t have to be available to everyone outside, we also don’t have to be available to everyone in hospital either, that healthy people choose who they are going to be available to.  Yet some of the nurses get rude, offended and giggly if you are not making yourself relationally available to them whenever you meet them.  It is disrespectful and not recognising my right to privacy and choice about the relationships I choose to engage with.  They won’t let me be an ordinary person, they are demanding from me all the time, some of them.  I went into dinner on Friday trying to think about and envision meetings I have planned with other staff next week, and rather than leave my head space alone they were smiling at me insistently and when I got annoyed the Eastern European girl who was on started running around and giggling and touching surfaces as I have seen so often since this mental health thing started for me.  They can’t leave me alone.  They won’t request a conversation but the keep grabbing at me and imposing on me psychologically.  It is the same for others as well, they have said so.  To me there is something wrong with that.

I was talking about doing my laundry last night with another patient.  There is a laundry service that your washing has to be sent to and you get it back in 2 or 3 days, but people have said that things go missing so I decided to get mine done at the launderette.  She asked me if it had been OK and I said yes, everything had come out that needed to, and a nurse passing by started uncomfortably.  If that had been one of us and we had said something we would have been told that no, the other person was just talking about washing and why did we think otherwise?  I noticed that all the staff were walking with security guard body language and suddenly ‘realised’ this was deliberate.  Inwardly I turned away from them and when one of them passed me I stayed turned away and not acknowledging her and her body language changed and she looked guilty.  On another occasion she had walked past me a few weeks ago and when she noticed me she looked as if she was going to smile and she literally wiped it off her face and ignored me, continuing with the same hard body language.  They swan and glide and make annoyed or blank faces.  They pitch their hardness against my softness.  It leaves me feeling like a confused and angry mess.

Last night one of the other patients said it was illegal for them to keep her there.  She is a Christian.  The nurse in charge, S___a, came quickly out of the clinic room and looked at her, afraid and uncomfortable.  I encountered my psychiatrist in the corridor during the week.  She rushed past me uncomfortably.  The SHO of another psychiatrist looked redfaced and upset.  I don’t know what is going on but it feels as if it has to be good, from my perspective.  Having said that, I had the meeting with the SHO last Monday and was told he was waiting for the psychologist’s report before a decision was made.  I would have expected on to be made by now, it has normally been a same day decision and action, but no one has told me anything, if there is anything to tell.  I feel as if they are withholding it from me deliberately to keep me on tenterhooks.

I know these things are happening, I still have problems settling on why and what my responsibility is with it.  A lot of the time I feel as if they are desperate and I am wrong and unmerciful.  I told my psychologist that last week.

Child Brides

I just saw something on BBC News which made me cry.  A beautiful little girl who has been sold by her father to be married to cover his debt.  Although it is against the law in Afghanistan the tribal elders have approved it.  It happens all the time.

I looked for a petition to end it and found one.  It has only four signatures, I suspect because there is nothing the British government can do about this situation.  I don’t know.  Maybe I should do some research on the internet.

Breaking The Law

I’m listening to Judas Priest, and thinking about their song, Breaking The Law. My thoughts are going like this: Jesus broke the law, the Jewish law, when the disciples went through the field eating corn on the Sabbath, and he defended them. There is a group of people that earns so little for its labour that their employers could be said to be stealing from them. Supermarkets charge so much for food that they also could be said to be stealing from ordinary people. So, if David was right to pursue and overtake and take back everything that had been stolen from his group, are people who loot and ‘steal’ from these people morally wrong? My growing feeling is that it is not that simple.  I know others have been here before me. (This is bold because I lifted it from Facebook)

I sent this complaint to Nottingham NHS Trust on 12th August 2012.  I have been promised a reply several times.  The last time I sent an email to them asking for the written response was 28th December as a response had been promised to me for 14th December.  I haven’t received a response to that email so I have just emailed again.

This is the complaint:

This morning at 4.30 am I heard a man coughing in the courtyard outside my bedroom where the cigarette break takes place several times a day.  When I looked outside there was a man I didn’t recognise with the night staff from my ward sitting around the outside table.  I got upset and yelled at them to be quiet, also saying something about promoting sleep, and one of the women started to talk louder and kept it going for about 20 minutes longer, laughing as well.  I was really upset but felt powerless.

 

Noise on the ward happens all the time, even at night, door slamming included, and when I have complained I have just been told that there are some ill people on the ward.  I am also there since my unsatisfactory admission made me homeless from temporary accommodation, and I suspect collusion between the authorities, and I also am becoming ill through sleep deprivation, and also bullying by staff and patients. I can discharge myself when I want to technically, but I have no home to go to, and sometimes I feel as if the staff are giving me a hard time to try to make me leave before I have a home.  I believe they are experiencing problems they have dismissed when I first raised them as I came in and since, and various abuses have taken place which have never been apologised for, including mimicry of voice and gesture and also interfering vocally  from a distance with conversations I have been having with others.
On Tuesday 31st July 3 staff members I have had particular problems with in the past were on night duty and opened the slats on my door at 4.30 am and then switched the light on.  I was already desperate from previous broken nights, and I lay there for a while terrified with my heart pounding as it used to when I was harassed in the night from my upstairs neighbours.  I have had bad eczema on my lower abdomen for weeks, which only happens in extreme stress, and around 5.10 am I was scratching it and it was so uncomfortable I made a noise, and the male nurse and one of the female nurses started a jokey conversation about it in the corridor, as if they were walking along a beach on holiday, I thought at the time.  They have accused me of racism, and the male nurse, who is black [Errol], was then standing in the corridor with the female patient who had been partly responsible for that and who started a major coughing fit when I coughed (part of the mimicry and harassment and domination, she has also sworn at me badly in conversation in the past), then they hung around chatting and he said something about arrogant and she said tell me about it.  Then he went outside and started talking and I was desperate and shouted at him to be quiet.  Then all 3 staff came and stood at my door, one of the female staff, Lucy, with her foot against the door so I couldn’t close it, and asked me if i was going to calm down.  I said i would find it easier if she (Sam) wasn’t nagging me, and she said she wasn’t nagging me, and carried on pushing and they wouldn’t leave even when I said please and said I wanted to sleep.  She is 21 I am 51.  I said she would[n’t] speak to her mother like that.  Everything I said she negated and said she didn’t care.  In the end she said something and I said you do that and see what happens.  She asked me if it was a threat and I said yes. She said she would discuss it with the doctor and I said she would also have to tell him what I was threatening and find it in her head without having asked me what it was I was threatening.  I made it clear, several times, that I had been threatening a complaint.
They brought in a big team, including staff from another ward and started insisting that I took medication.  I said all I wanted was to be left alone to sleep and that my threat had been to make a complaint and that I wasn’t a danger to myself or anyone else.  They offered me a tablet which I rejected so they started making intimidating moves to turn me over and inject me.  At that point I said give me the tablets, and they said OK we won’t inject you because you are accepting the tablet.  I said I am not accepting it, you are forcing it on me, then one of them started to speak roughly and snatched my duvet away, saying right inject her and started moving to turn me over.  It was just perversity and an anger or malice I didn’t understand because I had been clear in what I had said.
They refused to give me my duvet back which was on the floor until I had taken the tablet, then they tried to give it back to me as a gift or concession rather than my right, at the same time dumping it on me.
The next night the same thing happened with my room and the light, but an hour earlier.  It has never happened before and no explanation was offered either night.  I was upset the first night at having been woken then talked about abd they bullied me.
I spoke on the Friday to a solicitor who told me it was illegal to medicate me if I am informal without my consent.
My name is Sue Barnett and I am on Redwood 2 at Highbury Hospital.  I also have other incidents and complaints I need to report.
Yours sincerely
S B Barnett

Section 3

A Section 3 is a prison, in which you are forced to take drugs (literally forced if you will not comply, often with contempt and disdain), which might cause long term damage, whether you have committed a crime, or not.
When it is spent, after 6 months, it can be renewed at the discretion of the psychiatrists.
They have this power in law even if you have not been in a court for them to be given power specifically over you. Many people start off with the police who hand them over to the mental health system .  The police are corrupt, as we see repeatedly, and coercive medicine is inhuman.

I heard a story recently about a policeman who exposed his colleagues for mistreating someone in a cell, later being dragged into a van by other policemen, twice, and being kicked and beaten.  I wonder how many so-called good cops are prepared to take that risk?  I want to believe there are some.

Symptoms of Schizophrenia

Someone on Facebook gave me the link to this useful list.  I decided to tack on the end that PTSD is said to “mimic” schizophrenia.  I would say all of these ‘early warning signs’ could equally be a part of post traumatic experience.

“Schizophrenia is a challenging disorder that makes it difficult to distinguish between what is real and unreal, think clearly, manage emotions, relate to others, and function normally.” “The most common early warning signs of schizophrenia include:
Social withdrawal
Hostility or suspiciousness
Deterioration of personal hygiene
Flat, expressionless gaze
Inability to cry or express joy
Inappropriate laughter or crying
Depression
Oversleeping or insomnia
Odd or irrational statements
Forgetful; unable to concentrate
Extreme reaction to criticism
Strange use of words or way of speaking

http://www.helpguide.org/mental/schizophrenia_symptom.htm#conditions

Conditions that can look like schizophrenia

  • Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) — PTSD is an anxiety disorder that can develop after exposure to a traumatic event, such as military combat, an accident, or a violent assault. People with PTSD experience symptoms that are similar to schizophrenia. The images, sounds, and smells of PTSD flashbacks can look like psychotic hallucinations. The PTSD symptoms of emotional numbness and avoidance can look like the negative symptoms of schizophrenia.

Today I have posted a new page, “Essential Links”, which I will update occasionally if not regularly. It consists mainly of sites which I consider to be essential reading.  It was private for a while and had the first two links already, but the ones I have posted today are antipsychiatry links.  Please visit these sites and read the material thoughtfully, and please check this page often.  I find some of the articles I have read invaluable and in line with my own thinking and experience.

I saw on a site not listed, recently, a photograph of a woman in a wheelchair as a result of tardive dyskinesia, a condition sometimes caused by psychiatric drugs.

Oh – and Happy New Year!

Striking Poses

Here’s one: because I am getting on in years I am entitled to some of the luxuries of life, and to establish the lifestyle I have always wanted.

Yesterday coming home – sorry, back to the hospital; I must be getting institutionalised – I thought that was a lie put out by pension and financial investment providers.  We aren’t entitled to anything just because we are getting older and feel we have always been entitled to it.  Not even respect and facilitation of the lifestyle we would choose for ourselves.

Is that true?  Is that really true?  Because at the moment it feels such a desolate thing to say and believe.

To bring it back to my situation, I am being told that they want to transfer me under my present section to shared housing which comes under another hospital.  I have chosen, by default or otherwise, to live on my own. Knowing the kind of harassment I have had towards me in places I have lived, I am afraid of it springing up in my actual living space and turning really nasty, maybe even dangerous.  We, I and my proposed housemates, are not people who could expect to be taken seriously if we said what was happening, because I, at least, am not being taken seriously by the psychiatrist now.  I am getting tired.  I would like some peace and protection and safety on my own terms.

But I’m not entitled to it just because I am aging.  Or am I?  Have older people, like myself (I will be 52 next week) been demeaned a little bit too far?  There we are, I am striking a pose again.  I am tired, I am grief-stricken, I am menopausal.  Is a safe and peaceful living space, and a little respect and self-determination, too much to want and aim for?  What is this third age?  Is it a new age of helplessness?

The Trial

I am sitting in a first class carriage to London and have just finished reading the chapter called ‘The Uncle – Leni.

At this stage I think K is completely boring and self-absorbed, and I have more sympathy for the Uncle and the advocate and the director, and nervousness for K.  Leni’s approach to K’s situation is almost religious, if not entirely so ‘you have to acknowledge your guilt, you can’t argue, remedy your faults’.  I find myself feeling like this quite a lot, in most confrontational situations, that there is an element, an overriding element, that just wants to say sorry and make peace.  I’m confusing myself here.  Personal and class interest, class as in class action.  I’m not sure how much I can realistically give ground if I am to come out of this with any sense of self that I recognise.  An apology wouldn’t lead very far with people who are determined to see me as mentally ill.  It wouldn’t ultimately help.

Etc.

The Trial  So far K has been visited on by people in his flat telling him he is being tried but no crime has been cited.  So he is confused and paranoid and evasive of proper legal action.  He is playing detective and is trying to be self-reliant.  My copy has a quotation on the back from a Daily Telegraph review which says ‘This compelling, prophetic novel anticipates the insanity of modern bureaucracy’.

Pro Choice

In All In the Mind, BBC Radio 4 on Wednesday, they were talking about a new venture in Manchester where patients who would traditionally be treated with anti-psychotics, or anti-psychotics and talking therapies, are being treated with CBT (Cognitive Behavioural Therapy) alone.  The programme has several testimonials that this is working for those people.  It acknowledges that it doesn’t work for everyone, but that neither do drugs work for everyone, and stresses that it is about choice, which it says the NICE guidelines say should  be given to everyone diagnosed with schizophrenia.  The programme acknowledges that while the NICE guidelines say this, many people diagnosed with schizophrenia are not given this choice.

There is a bit near the beginning about the USA presidential elections. It lasts a short while and the above follows it.

I didn’t know about the NICE guidelines.  Maybe the team here interprets them as meaning you should be given a choice of medication.  My situation has not felt right to me for a long time.  The only choice I have been given, which is no choice at all, is oral or injection.  I am being forced to take drugs.  As I have said before, literature on our boards says that this trust does not tolerate bullying, fear and other such things.  I quoted this to the doctors and they didn’t care.  One of them talked about me being abusive when my speech became heated, totally blind, so it seemed, to what they were doing to me.

The decision makers at Highbury Hospital think they don’t have to be nice, or that niceness is all right for moving on, once the abusive decision has been made and is being enforced.  They should not be moving on like that regardless and without me.  If I am living in unreality, it is their unreality that I am being required to live in.  That one unacceptable little thing which I am visited with twice a day.  These people are not trustworthy.

Redwood 2, Highbury Hospital

I’m putting weight on so Dr Jaffer wants to change my medication.  In the meantime we had hotdogs for tea, or sausage, chips and beans, followed by pudding.

The woman who screams and shouts, reportedly because she is deaf, Chris, a male nurse into religious harassment and mind games, was talking to her at 10.15 onwards near my room, with me feeling as if I was being sprayed with acid.  He was doing it in the open regardless of my feelings or anyone else’s, when he could have left her in peace (and the rest of us), or encouraged her to go to her room with him, since it was obviously causing at least me distress.  She was as sulphuric as the woman who used to live over what was my temporary accommodation, but Dr Jaffer is insistent that it didn’t happen to me there at all, even though here it is all over again on the ward.  I was so upset I was shouting at them to stop, saying things like ‘steal my home then bring me into an environment which is an exact replica’.

I’ve got a manager’s meeting Wednesday 14th November.  I hope they will see their way to being more reasonable by then.  Dr Jaffer has not told me she has changed her mind about nothing really happening.  Chris calls himself a Christian.  He did a quiz which I only became a part of because I happened to see it in passing.  In it he talked about pride, and baby animals, the sphinx.  He said it was compiled by the staff.  I tried a few times recently to say hello to him but he turned away so his gaze was somewhere else, before saying hello.  At the time I thought it was like trying to train a dog.  He calls people in my hearing like ‘yip, yip’, here girl style.

Housing has said that it might be down to the therapeutic decision as to whether or not I can be allocated a home.  There is little, in my opinion, which is therapeutic about this place.  Occupational therapy is supposed to be therapeutic, but I find it controlling and judgmental.  I don’t know what their stance is at the moment but I need it to be something better than keeping me homeless in hospital while I have to keep paying about £160 a month for storage.

Psychological Football

I’m always better when I go out.  Yesterday I didn’t go out because I wanted to save money.  Having just bought a month’s top up for my internet dongle I am down to £5 per day until next Wednesday, when I get my DLA.

Have I mentioned that there is a deaf lady on the ward who screams and shouts at the top of her voice?  I got in in time for dinner so I wouldn’t have to spend money on food and almost as soon as I walked through the door, as I was having a conversation with one of the staff, she suddenly exploded right near me, and I just felt shock waves, as I do every time she does that.  I screamed myself to let the shock out.

Going back to money, it is really hard for me having 5 hours a day off the ward when I have no home to go to.  Everything I want to do is going to cost money, especially if I want to eat.  If I use the free internet facility at places I feel obliged to buy something.  If I was at home it would not cost me nearly so much for a cup of tea/glass of wine and a sandwich.  At the moment both the housing people and the hospital are maintaining that they are waiting on each other before I can be housed.  Tomorrow I have a meeting with my key nurse and the housing advocate.  I hope some progress has been made.

Calling us mentally ill if we don’t believe that about ourselves is a visceral, mind-burning thing.  To then have people making fun of the way you speak, clashing pots and pans at significant intervals, and competing with you for your own breathing and speaking and generally acting like pack animals is more than you should be expected to deal with.  But that was what I had at dinner time.  It is open season for mockery.  Jess was scowling.  I see them hugging and sharing the love with each other as they leave, but some of us don’t even get a real personality to speak to, let alone love.  Today Linda was in the kitchen, and Liz and Luke.  It appears they thought my upset was hilarious, if Luke’s reaction was anything to go by.  It is war, nothing else.  When dealing with people who do not recognise their right to label people that way, mental health staff are engaged in a civil war with captives they hold and torture with drugs and other forms of torment.  I see their anger and sometimes I think I shouldn’t trust them and other times I think I should trust them.  It isn’t going to happen though.  Because I am writing this, and they are reading it.  I am fully convinced, after several instances that were too close to be ‘just coincidence’, that the police are monitoring both my blog and messages I have sent via my phone a couple of times.

As I came off the ward I spoke to someone on the building staff and it was obvious from his response to me that he had no time for anything I had to say.  I had thought he was a decent person, but his voice was full of derision when I spoke to him today.

There is a nurse called Vymla who has a couple of times burst out with ‘hi honey’ either to me or ‘on the telephone’ when I have been around.  Something in the tone of voice made me feel it was deliberate.  On the day that I was first due to be assessed for a section 3, having just a few days before discovered that I had been in hospital for nearly a month and none of my relatives knew, because although one had been nominated as closest relative, it came back in the paperwork that no one had been nominated, I was really upset because I was being given only 3 or 4 hours notice with no one knowing I was even there.  Vymla opened the office door and said she was sorry she had to open the door, but I wasn’t shouting loud enough.  I told her to stop being sarcastic and she said she was never sarcastic.  Am I supposed to laugh at this later when things have calmed down and take it all with a pinch of salt?

I don’t think I’ve mentioned Vymla before.  There is another one called Annie who comes at me with faces, it is really grotesque.  One day just as I got back, when the olympics were on, she got me in a long conversation and followed every change in expression in my voice.  I started doing the raise at the end of my sentences, like we have learned from Australia, and she matched me move for move.

I managed to get the first assessment for a section 3 moved to a few days after, maybe Monday where it had been Friday.  They weren’t willing to give way at all until I brought out a pen and paper, then suddenly it all changed.

My last section before this one, a section 5(2) involved a Dr Singh who acted as if he was giving me the third degree.  I hadn’t met him before.  He said, and Liz backed him up, that I had said something I hadn’t.  At that point I wished that I had legal representation and witnesses, but apparently you can’t get them for an assessment.  I forgot his name part way through and asked him to remind me and he was very aggressive, demanding of me why I had forgotten his name, I shouldn’t have forgotten, I had forgotten other things as well.  But I answered all of his questions correctly about the day, date, time, who is the prime minister (though I had to think about that one, I had Margaret Thatcher in my mind).  What I am saying is that the assessments can be, and in my experience have been, a free space for bullying and belittling the patient when neither advocate nor solicitor is there to see.  I think I should have been entitled to an advocate and I can’t remember why I didn’t have one, but as the law stands at the moment I am only entitled to a solicitor after the decision has been made to put me on a section.

Then they act as if what they have done is a perfectly normal way to behave in any relationship.

Someone recently said you don’t get any peace until they have you on drugs.  It seems to me that fits my experience, that they want you on drugs, possibly it makes them feel better.  I asked at one point if I could have the section 3 without the drugs, if they were worried about me leaving hospital with nowhere to go.  When they get you on drugs it seems like ‘fight over’ in many ways, for them.

There is a lady on the ward who has been getting quite upset.  Talking about staff getting to go home and buy things on dirty money, talking about slurring her character.  Last night the staff listened to her in silence, this morning one of them was talking back at her.  She was saying they were slurring her character and she said she was going to complain and that she had before and would do so again,  Jess kept saying ‘good’ and another patient standing with the nurse was saying to her ‘do you have one’ (character), and made another comment as well, and Jess sided with her saying ‘pinch of salt’ to her about what this other lady was saying.

I’ve been there.  It hurts, it’s frightening and it shouldn’t happen.  The lady was saying that she wanted a transfer because she was being bullied by staff and patients.  It certainly sounded that way this morning.  I’m not saying it because I am perfect, but because I am equally vulnerable in this situation.

This evening I started singing, quietly, ‘the king is in the all together’.  I’ve never realised its full meaning before.  At first it wasn’t intentional.

All Over the Place

I’m all over the place today. and was yesterday as well.  Should I go to church, or contact the media, or make contact again with my uncle?  Last time I went to him he turned me away.  So has everyone else though, at different times.

Who is the least to blame for their hacking of my computer and telephone?  Who can I least condemn for that and justify the most?

Life on the ward is violent and angry.  It runs completely counter to my life choice.  I was on a section 3 until I finally moved all my stuff out of my temporary accommodation on the Friday, then my section was rescinded on the following Monday, so technically I could leave, but I now had no home.  After a period off my section but feeling really distressed by the violently broken nights, when I tried to discharge myself they didn’t seem to know, between them, what they were doing, but they put me back on a section 3.

This place, patients and staff alike, are hurting me. Being here is making me very unhappy and repressed.  I know this place is bad for me, but they are telling me I need to be here.  I know I don’t and that it isn’t good for me to be here.    It isn’t good for anyone.  The kind of relationships that exist in a place like this, doing what they do, can only be diseased.  I can’t even discharge myself at the moment into the ‘really bad’ hostels they say exist here.  At least if I could do that I would be taking responsibility for my own life.  It might be easier if housing seemed to be doing something, like offering me accommodation.  I can’t remember the date I was interviewed, but it is over a month ago, maybe 2.  Even if I am offered accommodation I assume that the lifting of my section 3 won’t automatically coincide with that.

I keep coming out of my room to see staff members immediately change the expressions on their faces, when they see me.  There is something wrong with this and I am frightened.

Convulsed

My medication has been increased from something I was comfortable with to an amount which makes my limbs go haywire and I have minor convulsions every night.  I have mentioned this to the staff and they said they might think about changing my medication.  I was on 10 mg of olanzapine and it has been increased to 15.  I am taking procyclidine with it but it is making no difference. I wake several times a night, both too hot and angry, my arms and legs flailing and rigidity in my back.  I think that is my fault, that it is happening because I am not handling myself properly and that I need to take myself into deep relaxation and acceptance of the medication to let it work properly when I flail and get the convulsive feelings.  That is when I am not thinking that this medication and everything else I am not being protected from in here are a very brutal way to access my emotions.

How Useful is Philosophy?

When I was in my 20s I was aware of a stereotyped response people came out with about the usefulness of philosophy, ie that it was probably no use at all when it came to the practicalities of life.  In that stereotype people who wanted to study philosophy were asked what use it would be for anything.

I was just thinking about that.  I haven’t given it much time before writing, maybe only about 10 minutes.

The conclusion I came to was that every life action comes out of an underlying philosophy, whether conscious or unconscious.  That people who say they have no time for philosophy are unconsciously adopting that of pragmatism, though they would deny they are moved by any philosophical position at all.

In Colossians 2:8 it says that they should not let anyone take them captive through hollow and deceptive philosophy because in Christ we have fullness.  In the context of the chapter it says that.  I have been wary of philosophy for many years on the strength of that, as have many others.  I have thought, with many others, that true Christianity and conversion was what was needed.

He does say ‘hollow and deceptive’ though, and one hopes that he is not putting all of philosophy into that bracket.  Jesus is the way, the truth and the life.  It is true that no one comes to the Father but by Him.  Among His disciples He always preached non-violence, though He acknowledged that those who did not embrace His teaching would go to war but that the disciples were not to be afraid because wars were bound to happen.

There are many who would resent the Christian position, unadorned, being thrust into their faces as the solution to life.  I think that an awareness and understanding of philosophy is at least a bridge in cross-cultural communication between Christians and non-Christians and the arguments for the Christian position can be found in and through other philosophies which people who would consider themselves anti-Christian and anti-religion would engage with more readily.

It must be the ultimate in unaccountability to say that we recognise no philosophy or religion at all.  I think it is true to say that there can be no lasting peace without recognition on both sides of an immovable higher authority to which each side submits itself throughout.  So I find myself unable to reconcile Jesus’ statement that there would be wars with the Church of England prayer ‘give peace in our time, oh Lord’, because different people groups do not recognise the same authority, and each people group recognises its authority in ways that make them at odds with others in their communities.

So is God just an imposition of the strong on the weak?  Having experienced many things, including physical healing, I cannot say so.  To me it is not enough to say that everyone has the power to heal and not refer that power back to a giver, especially as the healing I received was in a Christian context.

But I do think that people who have no time for religion or philosophy are dangerous people to be in control.

I think I started thinking about this today after listening to a Noam Chomsky recording on Napster, about mafia and hegemony.

20.09.2012 One Year Homeless

And to think I raided my credit card piggy banks because I thought it would be dealt with within a month.  I didn’t realise I would run out of money before I was re-housed.  The date on this post will be 21.09.2012 because I have kept the blog in Bulgarian time to save confusion.  It is also Greek time and Syrian time.  Imagine how that felt to me last year when I was watching the news and Syria was in my own time zone.  It made me forge a strong emotional connection with events there.  Perhaps that is why some of my past posts areas they are.  Emotions were being stretched in every direction.

I have marked the anniversary by playing loads of music and buying a CD off eBay.  That is the first eBay purchase I have made since before I first left for Bulgaria.

That’s it really.  I can’t be bothered writing anything else tonight.

Oh, I can watch the BBC with my dongle even if I can’t watch anything else.  I can watch live tv, but not archives, and I can’t play live radio.

What Is Disablism?

After my last post I thought I had better check and see, though it seemed obvious, what disablism is.  I put ‘what is disablism’ into Google and the search came up with some sites, including this one from a feminist perspective.  I would add to it that disablism is saying that everything you say about your social situation and background is false because you are judged to have a mental illness.  Or is it that you are lying about your life so you must be mentally ill?  Though I’ve been completely honest and said nothing which isn’t true.

I talked about Emily Pankhurst in my first meeting with my psychiatrist here and I was told not to start on that one, though I meant it earnestly with all my heart and mind.  I said she had not fought for women’s rights and suffrage for women in power to subjugate other women or define them as they did not wish to be defined.  They dismissed it as the ploy of a mentally ill person who would use anything to get out of the psychiatric situation.

‘What Is Disablism’  is a good search to put into Google.  I have only used the first result but there are others of interest.

Tattle-Tale Post Review

Saw Dr Jaffur and Dr Fahy today with Alison Harrison, the ward manager.  Dr Jaffur was the only one of the three who spoke.

Dr Jaffur asked me a few questions about how I was feeling.  She asked about medication.  She asked about the ‘feelings’ I was having. of being harassed, etc.  I asked her to tell me if she was acknowledging that it was not all just in my mind and she said she was not acknowledging that, she thought they were just feelings, after I had told her about the times men have drawn level with me and cleared their throats straight into my ear as they pass.  Like the people in London who used to draw level and scream in my ear as they passed.  I heard someone talking about it on the radio, acknowledging it as a phenomenon, however much it is magnified or not magnified by my sensitivity and upset about it.

I got up, refusing to continue the review.  I held my finger up and said she had a vested interest in the situation and in not acknowledging the outer reality of what I was saying.

I came out really upset and angry.  I was saying that she was stupid or dishonest, that she was insisting that my whole life experience as I recount it is just feelings born of my mind.  I was saying she had no right to say that, just because in her judgment I am mentally ill, real things like harassment don’t happen to me.  I was saying I understood my life better than she did because I had a background in real therapy.  I said ‘oh, she must have a gift in clairvoyance, then, which is more than I have’.  I meant distance viewing but couldn’t remember the term.  I don’t have any of those gifts.

Tommy Boyd once said that his dog once ate his shit.  I thought he was talking about me swallowing an act. Whether he was or not, I have swallowed this, whether he meant it or not: he said something about God and not believing in Him, but rather being alone and acting and deciding alone.  This is something I have come to value, even though I believe in God.  It is, of course, the existentialist position.  Certainly you can’t go to the Bible and apply it to your situation when it involves people in power who do not share your position.  Christians differ with Christians.  You have to think with the material and spoken facts and limit yourself to those, in some situations.  I love Tommy Boyd.  I don’t know if he could love me.

I felt, rather, looking back, that it was Dr Jaffur who was putting herself in a position of deep denial, medical book guided fantasy, spinning something from her training which is not true of my life and has no connection with it of my choosing.

We all know about hate crime, including hate crimes against disabled people.  In our dining room we even have literature on the wall which says that this trust doews not tolerate disablism.  I think that is what the doctors and nurses here are engaging in every time they relate a concern you express back to mental illness.  They don’t want to know about reality.  Especially when they themselves abuse their positions and don’t recognise proper boundaries.  They seem to reason that we are ill therefore they can be lazy, or act as if they are in a disfunctional intimate relationship as the abusive, ridiculing, begrudging, demanding and superior partner.

Linda the nurse came in and told me to calm down as there were ladies who wanted to get their lunch.  I said i wasn’t saying anything they wouldn’t say themselves and that they were on my side.  I asked another patient what she thought and she said she didn’t know what to say.  Linda told me it wasn’t fair to involve the other patients, even though she was the one who had first invoked them on her side.  I think Errol, who was serving lunch,was coming in every time I stopped speaking.  Maybe that was why I didn’t feel able to stop.  I asked the person serving with him for a plastic white spoon to take out with me, and his body language seemed to me to indicate that he was unhappy with my use of the word ‘white’, though for me it was natural and just a description of the spoon, to create a focus on what I was asking for.  He has involved me in accusations of racism in the past, and has taken his own actions towards me and made out that it is me harassing him rather than the other way round.

Linda left as I was still speaking and I mentioned the night before the 40th anniversary of my father’s death and how she had not defended me against a patient who had hatefully and angrily said that everyone had problems and she didn’t want to know mine.  I said Linda had no rights towards me at all.

We all know about hate crime.  Dr Jaffur is not willing to acknowledge any possibility that I may be subject to it in any circumstances.  I wonder what she thinks of the very publicised case a few years ago where a mother in Leicester took her own and her disabled daughter’s lives after years of harassment they had not received adequate help and attention for from the police, who I think publicly apologised for this and said they would try harder in the future.  Short of corruption and self-protection, why is it not possible, in her mind, and the minds of other staff, that I am actually experiencing the harassment I say I am?  I don’t have bruises to show for most of it, and they made a mental health assessment justification out of the bruises they did see when I was advised to go to Queen’s Medical Centre and have it looked at.

Are they so scared of the consequences of this kind of abuse towards me that, for some reason, even though it has been recognised for others, they are unwilling to recognise for me that I am in a situation of ongoing harassment and intimidation unless it gets stopped?  That is the only reason that makes any sense for this willful presentation of themselves as blind to the possibility that I am paranoid because I am being harassed.

Hillsborough Report

On Wednesday it was reported on Radio 4 that around 100 police statements were altered following the Hillsborough disaster and the situation was made to look like the fault of the public rather than the police.  Someone speaking on Radio 4 said that they did not normally believe conspiracy theories but that this time it was evident.

But that fact has taken all these years to be established and be reported.

To me it seems reasonable to believe that there are many other conspiracy theories which are equally true, including the conspiracy of the mental health system and its brutal approach to helping people to deal with their mental health problems, relationship problems, emotional problems.

I say therapy which is therapy is consenting, and nothing involuntary can fit that description or be ultimately therapeutic (unless it is shock therapy or reality therapy, but then is it really therapy, or just more repression/suppression and ‘learning your lesson’?).

Twenty-three years after Hillsborough this has come out, though the event is over and done with.  For people enmeshed in the mental health system it is ongoing and some do not survive.  People have been killed by inappropriate restraint methods and application, as well as by death at their own hands for others, preferring, I suppose, to die at their own hands rather than to keep going through the seemingly endless cycle of crisis and hospital admissions where the facts they know of their lives, better than the mental health service staff do, are often invalidated and contradicted by the insistence on a mental health diagnosis. 

I have recently felt hopeless and helpless and that, if I were a different person, I might kill myself rather than continue to go through this cycle.  I did deliberately overdose once, in 2003.  I took almost 100 paracetamol and lay down to sleep, not caring whether I woke or not.  I woke and stumbled into the kitchen and vomited.  The church I was going to at the time didn’t know this, but it was just before I was confirmed.  I ended up in hospital on a drip.

I have heard since Wednesday another programme on Radio 4 talking about the IPCC (Independent Police Complaints Commission) and the experience of some that it has failed to deliver for them.  I have only approached them about one thing and I didn’t follow it through to the end.  I tried, but the police service was not very co-operative and I ended up leaving it because of other more immediate pressures.

I spoke to one of the nurses recently and told her that the support I needed was legal support in the community when situations arose which I had not contributed to in the locality and which were a disturbance to me.  I mentioned that the police are supposed to do something after the third report from one individual, and she said that what they did would not necessarily be what the individual wanted and that they would not necessarily interpret the situation as the individual did.  She also said that the police are a law to themselves, a statement which could be interpreted her evasion of the issue, among other possibilities.

Today in Redwood 2 – Pre-Review

I have just explained part of my situation as I understand it to one of the other patients.  She has confirmed that she has been aware of things on the television reflecting us and that it has only been during this admission and had never happened to her before.  I told her I had had it for 16 years.

I’m writing this in Word at the moment, before I go out.  It is easier as it gives me a degree of privacy I can’t get outside.  I find myself wishing I had done this before, because I am feeling as if my head is beginning to calm down and I am becoming less afraid and disturbed by noises outside my room. I suppose the reason I haven’t is because of the way I was approached before by Alison, the ward manager, when she expressed concern over ‘what I was using my laptop for’.  I have been afraid I might have it taken away.

What has happened today?  To start with they told me that my review would be on Friday and not tomorrow, as I had been told by Dr Fahy’s new SHO last Friday that it would take place this Friday and that medication was definitely going to happen following the review.  That was how I understood it.  Today they told me the review would be on Friday but that medication was written up to start tomorrow, Wednesday.  I had thought it was good news that the review was going to be on Friday because as I understood it, medication was going to start again then, when I had had a chance to re-present the reasons for rescinding the section.  Before I have always assumed that waiting for the tribunal was all I could do, but this time has been different.  Because the section 3 I was under for a few weeks from May was rescinded before tribunal I realised that I could argue for it to be rescinded from day one and that waiting for the tribunal is not my only hope.

When they told me that the review would be on Friday but that medication was going to start again tomorrow I felt really upset and I said ‘this is an assault.  If the worst comes to the worst I’m going to phone a radio station’.  Anyway, later they said the staff team had talked about it and that they were going to recommend that medication be delayed until after the review, but that it was Dr Jaffur’s decision (I’m not sure of the spelling).  I was told that Dr Jaffur was away today and might be away tomorrow as well.  I spoke to my advocate who told me that she had phoned the ward last week and been told I was not on the unit, whereas the truth was that I had no leave, except Section 17 worded that I had no leave except for medical emergencies, which I have never received before.  That isn’t leave.  An emergency has to receive attention by law.  At that point I had already not eaten all weekend except for one sandwich and a few bite size shreddies.  During the weekend they decided they wanted to take any food I had out of my room, I suppose to put pressure on me to come out of my room.  But the fact was that at the time they wanted to do that I had no food.  They didn’t take great pains to find out why I wasn’t coming out for food (they knew about harassment and stuff which they keep insisting isn’t happening and that they have seen no evidence of).  The point is, I had no leave at all last week and never left the ward, but my advocate was told I was not on the unit when she phoned.  At that point the Section 3 was back in place and seeing her would have helped me.  That was probably the day she phoned to say she wouldn’t be available for the scheduled review on the Friday and left a message for me which was not passed on.

Anyway, later today they put the review which they had told me was going to happen on Friday back to tomorrow, after telling both me and my advocate that it was going to happen on Friday at a time I can’t remember now.  I found this out when my advocate phoned me on my mobile and left a message for me to this effect saying that I knew and had agreed to it.  I think this must have come from Dr Fahy’s new SHO who came to my room to engage me in a conversation about times, when I had just realised that I was being kept spinning and not allowed to stop as people kept coming wanting to discuss one piece of conflicting information after another.  I told her that I thought that was what my key nurse was for, to pass on the decision rather than different people keep coming to me with conflicting information and trying to get me involved with the conversations.  I have found it exhausting, and this is not the first time it has happened.  She did not tell me this had been a definite change and I heard it from my advocate who said she had been told I had agreed to it.  They told me Dr Jaffur was not going to be available on Friday.

I refused medication as soon as it was offered to me the first time Monday last week, on the grounds that this trust, according to its literature, does not tolerate fear and intimidation, and that this was the effect of what they wanted to do to me.  They told me it could be enforced but I argued calmly and assertively that although it could be, it didn’t have to be.  Eventually they accepted that and my nurse told me that it would be discussed again at review.  I had been told in London that you can refuse until the next review so I was fairly confident.  I had tried to say that to them before though and they had pushed it through anyway, not acknowledging the validity of what I was saying.  I suppose all the manoeuvring and manipulation today has been because that is the legal position and because I said it would be an assault to go ahead with medication before review and that if the worst came to the worst I would call a radio station.  But how many other people do not win this fight?  Every time I show signs of relaxed and healthy communication people start getting uncomfortable or looking cross or disapproving.  I am really feeling bullied and have been for ages.  Every time I speak the nurses copy what they hear.  I said that to the other patient I have mentioned and she said she had noticed it happening to me.  It is either the smile offensive or the snoot offensive and every time I open my mouth they push me and keep pushing me for a bit more, or talk over me, sometimes deliberately scrambling their own speech and being completely provocative and outrageous.

Someone on Radio 4 today mentioned ‘ad hominems’, a personal attack in an argument, and I thought about that in the context of all the times people have talked about illness and medication every time I have felt strong and hopeful in communication.  Yesterday Alison told me she had seen no evidence of harassment and she said she thinks I misinterpret things a lot.  I thought afterwards that that would be like someone who didn’t speak a language telling someone who did that they were getting it wrong.  She doesn’t see all the links that I see because she is not me and doesn’t have complete access to everything in my mind and memory that makes it understandable to me.  I told the other patient about it today because she came out of her review angry and I realised how powerless she must be feeling so I decided she was entitled to know that she wasn’t mistaken about the things she was seeing.

I can’t remember if I said in my last post that I have submitted the same complaint 3 times via the email address given on the website for the hospital and that it was supposed to have been answered within 3 days.  Today, 13 days later, Alison has received it and offered me an ‘opportunity’ to talk about it.  At the time I was flustered and wanted to use my leave and said so, saying it was now 13 days on and this was now my time and I wanted to take it, but also that the hospital has already broken its side of the agreement and that I believed the way forward now was to talk to my advocate about it. This is something her approach to me did not acknowledge.  It feels almost as if all this stuff is now being presented to me thinking they can get me to co-operate in the hope that my section will be rescinded and medication become a non-issue.  It’s a complaint about the night when staff came into my room and turned the light on at 4.30 in the morning and continued to be unruly and I reacted in anger and desperation because of that and previous broken nights through angry door slamming that I had said would make me ill if it didn’t stop, and rather than leave me alone when I said I just wanted to be left alone to sleep they kept going, one of them with her foot in the door, and escalated it to the point that, even though I was informal, they had me medicated.  The next morning the same team turned the light on at 3 am, no explanations, apologies or anything.  The first time, even though I eventually said please and was beside myself with desperation because they wouldn’t just go and let me sleep, they kept going.  Then Alison yesterday was talking about me needing to deal with this thing with Errol, who was involved in that, and it is like telling someone they need to make peace with a person in authority over them who has raped them.  They seem to be contriving to make me feel emotionally and relationally obligated here.

On the night before I tried to discharge myself I stayed out rather than go back and sleep on the ward because I thought if I slept there I might weaken and decide not to discharge myself.  I decided I was in a stronger position because Shelter’s solicitors had told me that I could not make myself intentionally homeless from a hospital.  I spent the night in a hotel room and the next morning I turned on BBC news to see all this stuff about the Home Office wanting to take away the embassy status of the building where Julian Assange has taken refuge, so they could arrest him.  This kind of coincidence has happened to me before, and as I said in my last post, when I went back and they wouldn’t let me go, in spite of having told me after the first interview that I could go and then changing their minds, police helicopters were flying over the building.  Last night I thought that the only thing that made sense to me was that the authorities thought I had absconded (I didn’t know I could do such a thing as an informal patient, but the police were looking for me, I discovered when I was able to use my phone again to get the messages – the battery had run out because of a long conversation with Shelter’s solicitor and I didn’t have the charger, that all has to happen in the office) and that the right way to deal with it was to arrest Julian Assange.  I thought they must have thought that I was going to go back to Occupy or to the Ecuadorian Embassy, whereas actually my first intention was to go back to Housing Aid and get myself rehoused.  But when I saw that on the news I wanted to go to London.  I felt helped by the timing of the first set of leaks that came from Wikileaks.  I have written elsewhere on this blog about Julian Assange and what I thought about things being reported around him, for what that writing was worth, and I feel it can’t have been much because everything I said must have been obvious to any good lawyer, and they also would have known about loopholes and things I couldn’t possibly know about.  I think most things I write are a bit silly at best and that I shouldn’t think too much of myself because of them.  But if I am right in my interpretation of this situation I don’t understand why it can have ben seen as so important that they wanted to take away the embassy status of the building so they could arrest Julian Assange.

They have been saying that they have to extradite him to Sweden to answer charges there, completely failing to acknowledge the truth that he had always co-operated with them freely so talking about extradition in his case is cause for him to be concerned for his safety.  He has always co-operated with the inquiry and the process.  Maybe they want us to forget that so they can call him, as I heard someone say on the radio recently, a stupid, self-regarding idiot, or something like that.  I think it is likely that that description might be more accurately applied to me.  By the way, there is a place in Ecuador called Quito, it has been in Radio 4 news this week.  I thought it was the capital but a member of staff said it isn’t. But I used to live in Kitto Road, at my last London address.  I feel as if I am being wretchedly ungrateful for all the protection which is being offered and exercised towards me by all my various stalkers and hackers, state and otherwise.

My advocate asked me about 2nd opinion doctors and I told her that the doctor involved in the final assessment for a Section 3 hadn’t asked anything situation-specific and had wanted to know my life story, which  thought was not good enough.  She agreed with me, that he was not there to get my life story.  Also he kept smiling at me as if he understood what I was talking about, so eventually I asked him if he understood and he said no, and when I said that he was smilingas if he did, he said he was smiling to encourage me.  I am wondering how many other such situations have been similarly misunderstood.

They keep talking as if I am going to be at the hospital a long time and keep saying they will see me next time they are on, which in my key nurse’s case is a week and a half.  It is exhausting me.

There is a right to silence.  There is also a right to not recognise any relational responsibility when those who are trying to make you feel it are in power over you in a way which allows them to impose themselves on you physically against your will if you defer to them and allow them to go unchallenged.

In the first place they asked me what I would do if I wasn’t sectioned and said my answer might affect their decision.  I told them to make their decision and then I would make mine, at the assessment.  But last week in the review I didn’t attend because the advocate I had been expecting wasn’t there I felt completely happy and relaxed and in my right mind when I asked the review nurse to tell them I would stay until I was rehoused if they wanted me to but that I wanted to come off my section and I didn’t want medication, but they were not interested in that and took the control back and left me feeling insecure and unhappy again.

As I said yesterday, more to follow.

The first time I met this man I didn’t find it disturbing, unduly.  He was on dinner duty and I realised he must be Richard, but for some reason I didn’t use his name.  He started singing ‘Horse With No Name’ and I corrected the situation as quickly as possible.  I thought he was making a point about me not having asked his name, so I decided it was right to give him what I thought he was asking for.

However, that is his usual behaviour, he can be heard from one end of the ward to the other, booming out, slurring his speech, looking rough, playing tag with my speech and maybe that of others.  I’ve noticed that if he is around and I start to regain any feeling of speaking normally and sensibly, maybe making a decision on the spot as I was trying to yesterday, he will interject, follow and pick up the way I speak wherever it goes, loudly, obtrusively and slurring and in a way which causes me communicative and emotional distress because of the outrage and shock every time it happens, quite apart from what I believe is the unprofessionalism and the corporate denial among anyone I raise it with on the staff that it could conceivably be a problem to anyone.

My immediate concern for myself is that this kind of harassment could put me at risk of being put back on a section, since no protection from it or cessation is offered.  He presents like a drunk at the moment, is totally defiant about it and I’m not sure how he s getting away with it.  He often sings ‘Still Crazy After All These Years’, and given the situation I don’t find it funny. He sings it as if to himself while he is walking on the ward.  Sometimes I tell myself I should have more of a sense of humour about it.  It is what some people would expect of me.

I’m not sure what he is trying to communicate by this, but I believe he is doing it wrong and that he should stop or lose his position.  He is routinely hurting people and he must know that.  If he doesn’t know and won’t be told I think he is not fit for the job.  Though that could be said of many.

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Yesterday I had a review with Dr Khan.  Dr Fahy was absent for reasons I couldn’t ascertain.  I asked if what was described as an ‘off’ day was bad off or planned off, and he said he didn’t know, or words to that effect.

We chatted quite happily about things I can’t much remember, until we got to the issue of my room.  I said that, at home, something doesn’t happen at 10 and at 2 to force me out of my home environment into another I don’t want to be in, or haven’t chosen to be in, unless it is an act of harassment and violence.  He said did I experience it as harassment and I said yes.  I can’t remember if I pointed out, yet again, that I am 9 months homeless and counting and that people need a sense of home.  I think I did.

He started to present a picture to me which is, I think, given that they know my position on the issue, insulting and unhelpful.  I am as intellectually able as them and it seems to me that presenting a factual requirement as a picture is an invasion of my right to be separate.  I’m not sure if he thought I couldn’t or wouldn’t understand without a picture or not.

The picture was that the government requires everyone to pay income tax.  I contradicted him straight away and said it doesn’t require me to pay income tax because I am on benefits, and I said his illustration had broken down already because the basis of it was incorrect.  We were arguing and he was saying I wouldn’t let him finish.  If I want a 69 to Bulwell I don’t get on a 28 to Bilborough.  My analytical skills, and also my basic respect for people, is obviously better than his.  I left the room while he was still objecting, and I answered that he was pig headed and opinionated.

I got into a conversation with a nurse about it, she had been in the room at my request.  I asked her what he meant, eventually, and she said she didn’t know and I finished the sentence for her in a way I felt appropriate, that it was because she wasn’t party to the situation.  She said no, because I didn’t let him finish, and that I often finish sentences for her and I am wrong.  But at the time she seemed to be agreeing.  If she had said I was wrong at the time I would have asked her what she had actually meant.

Long and short, I realised he might have been going on to say that the government requires everyone to pay tax but there are exceptions.  That was the only understanding with which I could justify what he had said.  I saw him in the corridor and said sorry, did I misunderstand what you were saying, and he said yes, but don’t take it personally.  He didn’t take that opportunity to have a further conversation or to communicate the fact behind his illustration.  Consequently, because of that and because of the inconsistency of application of the policy anyway, I realised today that I am afraid of just about everything I am doing and everything I am not doing.

This morning Sharon and Sonia came to my room, and I said that I thought Alison was OK with me staying in my room, because last week I had referred someone back to Alison, who knows my personal reasons for me wanting control of my space, and she didn’t come back.  I had said that I assumed that if she didn’t come back then the situation was OK.  But Sharon insisted and said that that was what the doctor had said yesterday.  That psychologically stopped me dead.  She said that the only reason people are allowed to stay in their rooms was if they were physically ill.  I had started off talking with my toothbrush still going in my mouth and when I stopped she moaned (that is a description of the way she spoke) that I hadn’t objected before to speaking with my toothbrush in my mouth, and she kept me going until I closed the shower and toilet door on her.  She said she wasn’t going to argue with me and I said that was exactly what she was doing.  She seemed satisfied to walk away when I was in full flow emotionally.  I said she was bullying me, and when she contradicted me I called her an un-self-aware bully and closed the door.  She later came back with a letter I haven’t opened yet and told me she was leaving it on my bed.  I think it is from Nottingham City Homes and I hope it is written notification of their decision not to house me because I didn’t give information of a close enough connection to Nottingham.  If it is that I can begin to appeal.

But I’ve been thinking today.  I believe the law recognises a right to privacy, and that the doctor isn’t above the law.  If the law recognises a right to privacy on my own terms I don’t believe I lose that right just because I am in hospital.  Outside we have a right not to be in a situation or an environment we don’t want to be.  We have the right, even if most of us don’t have the monetary power to back up that right.  We have a right to leave a bad situation.  The only ability some people have on the ward to exercise that right is to be able to access their room when they want to, and not to be dragged out of it in the name of ward policy.  There is no supervision of those out of room times and anyone can pick on people or be picked.

Also, medical care is supposed to be patient centred.  We are on a ward because we are supposed to be ill, albeit mentally.  Some of that mental illness has come about in the first place because people’s rights haven’t been respected and observed.  People know when they need to rest or want privacy.  We are the best judges of our own needs.  People shouldn’t be shunted out of their rooms against their wishes, en masse, like a herd of cattle.  Most people on the ward, in my opinion, are wondering around disturbed or disturbing people exactly because we are being treated like that.  People come out when they want to, when it comes to private space.  Rather than respecting it, they have turned it into a war zone subject to random attacks.  I think the policy is wrong, not just the inconsistency of its application.  That is why I am against it.  You don’t force people out of their private space, physically or any other way, unless you want disturbed people.  That is common sense and common sense is good, because that is about our being, not separate from it.

Dr Fahy asked me to do her a favour and not name people.  But when you are subject to abuse or in fear of future abuse that is your only protection.  People don’t listen if you keep it internal.  Alison said I could talk to her.  Even the inconsistency of approach is not consistent to good mental health.  If Alison is OK with me being in my room then I need the raids to stop when they do happen.  It is like an act of war.  I’m so upset about my space I don’t get other things done. If Alison is supposed to be the last word on the ward and she is OK with me keeping my space, no one should be overriding that.  Maybe there is a power struggle going on on the ward.  If so, it shouldn’t be played out on the patients.  I knocked on her door twice today and no one answered.  When the door was opened there was a room full of people.  I felt I needed to apologise for not realising there was a handover or something.  I don’t know what it was.  Maybe it was a group of people unhappy with my blog entry yesterday.

I asked for some complaint forms today as well, but it appeared that in the office they didn’t have any.  First they didn’t seem to know where to look, then they offered me a plain piece of paper, which could easily be misplaced after being given in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~//~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I thought about the rights and powers, and the fact that most people can’t afford to avail themselves of their right to determine their own lives and leave bad situations or places of work.  “If you don’ t like your job find another”.  Yeah, right.  If a person’s job was bad for their well-being, if they were being bullied and having lots of time off sick because of it, could they leave and not forfeit benefits by leaving themselves if they couldn’t walk straight into another job?  Could they resign on a principle and be respected for doing so by the benefits agencies?  I think it was six weeks benefit you forfeited if you left a job of your own accord without another one to go to, when I was in my 20s.  For most people acts of principle are a luxury.  I was thinking about Tony Blair, who could step down from his position and never work again without loss to the essentials of daily life. Yet he chooses to work.  People on lecture tours, special representatives of this and that.  The populace needs more confidence and interest to do the job without specials.  I was thinking that Tony Blair is a special peace envoy, rightly or wrongly, when the way to not have war is obvious – don’t start one.  A special representative is just a media figure, isn’t it?

I was thinking about people with all those privileges and all those properties and all that money calling people who can barely make ends meet, in real terms, in terms of real independence, scroungers.  Mocking us by saying we have rights without ensuring our power to avail ourselves of them.

I was thinking the other day that the mental health services are just a way of controlling people who start to feel their power and express it legally.  A way of controlling the emerging classes’.  Is that SWP/Marxist thinking?  Whatever the thought and words, the reality is the same.  They call it delusions of grandeur when you try to empower yourself against what is happening to you, and until the birth of the bloggosphere it has gone largely unchallenged by people in the thick of it, in any public way.  Demonstrations can’t happen every day.

It was said a few years ago on the radio that there is enough land in our country for every single person to have 7 acres to themselves.

Something else I was thinking about today was the verse in Proverbs where it says that someone who involves themselves in someone else’s argument is like a man who grasps a dog by the ears.  I was thinking of that in relation to Premier Radio and the Church.  Behold how great a matter a little fire kindleth.  I would not have been hurt so much or have lost so much important in my life if various spiritual authorities had not used their platforms to chase me down, and if secular authorities had done their job with equal regard to anti-discrimination and anti-prejudice laws.

I’ve got an interview with people to help with housing tomorrow on the ward.  I hope that goes well.  It has been organised for me and I was told it might take 2 weeks from referral to meeting,but it is less than one week.  So that is a good thing, I hope.

I was just talking and thinking about the perversity of my situation, that after clearing my flat on Friday I was released from my section on the Monday, so now I can take off all the time I want in one day I have been told that if I went overnight I would lose my room because of high demand.  I’ve got an idea.  Respect people and treat them well all the time and they might never need to come back!  If we weren’t put in the loony bin in the first place instead of receiving proper communication and acknowledgment that would be better.

Redwood 2 Care Plan

Name Susan Barnett :                                                                                                                                                               Rio :

Mobile Phone care plan

Current Issue

Susan has been accessing a blog page via internet to which she has been breaching confidentiality by naming specific patients and staff.  Susan was informed of the seriousness of this incident, to which Susan expressed she will continue to utilise the blog. Due to this Susan (sic) phone has been placed in the safe and is accessible under supervision.  Due to the risk of her utilising the internet via her phone.

Aims and objectives:

– To be able to monitor Susan, whilst using her phone ensuring confidentiality isn’t breached.
– To help Susan appreciate the seriousness of confidentiality both, from staff and to staff.

Patients (sic) Objective:

– To have an understanding, and awareness of confidentiality.

Nursing Objective and treatment plan:

– To maintain safety of staff and patients
– To educate Susan of the importance of positive communication with her social world

– For Susan to use her phone supervised by staff.
– For Susan’s phone to be stored in the safe
– to be reviewed in weekly review on 25/06/12

Date to be reviewed: weekly in review

(young female staff nurse and young male student named as signatories)
Date: 22/06/12
Signed: (by me)

End of document.

I was called into an immediate confrontation in the staff office as soon as I walked through the door after the leave in which I wrote my last post.  What this document does not say is that, because they had found and read my blog (at least bits) without me having given them details of its name or whereabouts – and contrary to the insistence of someone, it cannot be found just by looking up details for Highbury Hospital; I tried that myself and gave up looking for anything from my blog after page 6 of the search, though it came up immediately in the first 2 or 3 results when I entered a qualifier – They also took all my leave away, so I was confined to the ward over the weekend until I was reviewed on the following Monday.  Before I signed it – I didn’t consider if I had an option given the pressure and apparent anger in the room, where they told me their complaint/concern was going higher – I made all the notes on it which I had raised in conversation, that as someone who is not a staff member I am not bound to recognise or abide by a duty of confidentiality, I have not entered into a willing contract with them – ever over the last 16 years.  I pointed out that my phone and blog were separate and that my phone was used only for calls which were supposed to be private.  I wrote I hadn’t named patients – I think I have been careful not to.  I also wrote at the bottom “I believe this is an illegal restriction, provocation intimidation (sic lack of ‘and’) and the staff will know that to be true”.

I had a reasonable weekend with 2 of the staff in particular, and I am not sure why the next decision was made, but on the Monday I was discharged from my section and made informal, thus having as much leave as I choose to take (which often works out to be less than I would have taken when I had a restricted allocation).  I also, from Monday, started refusing my medication, and until today I don’t think I have handled myself badly, but now I have been angry at a really outrageous and out of order (so I believe) staff member, and before that I was expressing distress to a female staff member who knows what he is like, and though he seemed to me to be imposing himself on my speech and conversation from the office without actual involvement, she received everything I said in silence until one imposition too many made me snap at him, saying he was out of order and my anger was not.  This, however, makes me feel afraid of what the consequences of that might be, and that is how many of them get away with so much bad behaviour and unprofessionalism.  There is sometimes a psychological subliminality to what they do, resulting in stronger feelings than if it was up front, in my opinion, which is lay.  IE the ordinary person who experiences it.

More to follow.

This Moment IS

The staff on the ward have found my blog, without me giving them the address but saying angrily a few times that I was going to blog.  The ward manager collared me twice, once quite softly and the second time in a way which made me feel they wanted to take my computer and my leave away.  The second time she approached me with 2 other female staff members and in public.  She said she wanted to talk about my use of my computer on the ward.  I said it was music and that I have no internet connection on the ward.  She asked me quite crossly where I wrote my blog and how I wrote it and I pointed out that I have 5 1/2 hours total off the ward and I go where I can get a connection and that I have the same freedoms as everyone else in that time.  They said they did not like having their names associated with certain things.  I said that I have things associated with my name which I don’t like also, and that they were free to write or comment.  It was probably in that context that she said that it was a matter of confidentiality, but I took it to mean that she was saying I was breaking a duty of confidentiality which I was quick to point out that I do not have but that they do.  They talked about seeking advice.  I said OK.  I hope if and when they do the outcome will make a big difference in society and for people who are held against their wishes and with other forms of abuse, harassment and bullying thrown in.

This is good.

They saw me coming towards the office/ward exit this afternoon and it seemed to me they deliberately closed the office door and I stood outside knocking with them ignoring me.  This happens often.  The staff last night were calling people rude.  I’m not sure who they meant.  At the time it seemed it was obvious they meant me.

2 nights ago a woman had 2 separate instances of being forcibly medicated.  Hefty men called and involved, on an all-female ward.  If anyone knows how that is appropriate I would appreciate the feedback through comments.  She said they had hurt her hand and it was all swollen and red.  I know I have been there, in London.  It took 6 months for my hand to stop hurting, and the man doing it at the time, when I said he was hurting me, said ‘well, you will learn your lesson, then, won’t you?’  I was never contemptuous of my own life until I felt betrayed by the church and came under the psychiatric services.

We appear to have a large degree of revolt and anarchy on the ward at the moment.  Everyone is angry and the staff are, to my mind, often unprofessional.  Everyone knows what is happening but the staff say nothing, and I think most of us patients know they know more than they are allowing us to be party to and that, if we were allowed to be party to the staff’s knowledge of what everyone knows, a lot of things might be called into question.  Just a thought.

This blog is exactly what it says in the title, that and nothing else – the thoughts and observations of a certified nut.  Why would anyone want to seek advice over that?

Did I say that I had had a bad week as a vegan last week?  I was tempted again earlier this week but I talked myself through it.  I went through the ‘so I’ll feel guilty’ bit and realised afresh that it is about the suffering or death or utilisation of an animal in a way which is not ideal.  I decided we are different from most of the animal world in that we have a conscience and can think, philosophise and moralise about our behaviour.  I had tears in my eyes as I thought it through.  I was happy about that.  It is about the animal and about me, living according to my light.

Jesus is wonderful and I love Him.  He ate fish.  I’m not sure how to harmonise that.  It is said that the prophets were vegetarian and that the Essenes were also.  And I believe it is right not to use animals.  So I can’t deal with the Jesus and fish thing – not at all, in that context.  I think I was taught at Bible College that John the Baptist was an Essene.  So while they might have said ‘but Jesus ate fish so it isn’t wrong’, why would John the Baptist have lived by a higher morality?  We were told that when it says JTB ate locusts, it actually means the locust bean, and not the insect.

More Tales from the Redwoods

My mind is all jumbled today, it has been pretty packed with activities and observations.

The smoking square is right outside my bedroom and people raise their voices at my radio, even though it isn’t loud.  It makes concentration hard.  Blow it, it makes just listening hard.

I had a review today.  I asked them to decrease what they have been giving me for anxiety because I am walking around feeling the same as I used to when I was on sleeping medication every night in London.

They have left my leave as it is, 1 x 4 hours to break up and use as I want, plus 3 x 1/2 hour for local shops etc.

They also told me they wanted to increase my olansapine.  We got into a heated discussion about that.  They talked about ideas that I was being harassed, and I pointed out that they didn’t live with me and why were they so insistent on calling it ideas instead of accepting it as reality.  Dr Khan, the SHO who was conducting proceedings today although Dr Fahy was there, asked why I thought I was the only person being harassed and I said I didn’t, but he insisted that I had said that, and I said I hadn’t and insisted that I didn’t think that.  He asked why I thought I was so important that this could be happening to me, and I said he was being rude and asked him why he thought I was so unimportant that it couldn’t be.  He asked who I thought was doing it and I said how could I know if it was organised crime.  He asked me why I thought they were doing it which, as all illegitimate and out of bounds questions do, left me feeling hit in the head, and I said I didn’t know and that what mattered was that it was happening, not why.

Dr Fahy, or Dr Khan (I can’t remember now) said they were also worried about the level and degree of distress it was causing to me and people around me and she tried to fnish her sentence before I came back at that, which I insisted on doing, and I pointed out that the distress comes from other people before it comes from me, that if it were not started from others I would be happy. I didn’t get the opportunity I wanted to say that the degree of distress is because they always handle me like this and that they were giving me no hope or protection for the future.  But afterwards I wondered what they thought was the maximum degree of distress allowable in my circumstances.

I did my laundry this afternoon.  I went to the office to ask someone to unlock the door for me so I could get it out.  Jess was there with a big fluffy bear slipper or something.  They didn’t even look in my direction as I knocked, but she started touching the slipper or whatever it was in what, on a real animal, might have been its private parts.  On purpose, it looked like, and continued to not acknowledge me.  When she came to the door she had a really strange smile on her face.  I later remembered when Tommy Boyd had talked about licking the underparts of a badger, I think he said, to cure a headache.  That people used to do it and it worked.  He used to say that he wondered how people first got the idea.  Or was it a beaver?  The first time I heard him refer to the badger or beaver was the night after I had broken down in sobs, years ago, waiting for the phone to pick up the other end, or something, phoning someone else (I don’t have his private number), and the next day he played something which sounded like me sobbing the previous night and asked people to guess what it was.  Someone said it sounded like a woman crying, but he later declared it to be the sound of a badger or beaver.  I can’t remember if anyone got it.

He also played this game with Allison Ferns with the Queen song, ‘Don’t Stop Me Now’, where he kept stopping it as it was building up and Allison was getting frustrated.  I remembered that after catching some of the Steve Wright show this afternoon on Radio 2 and thinking that they were deliberately reproducing the action of dopamine or seratonin blockers, verbally, bringing it up to interest level then smashing it down so I, at least, was not able to maintain the interest and the thought that came from it.  It made me angry.  It was the first time I had thought of what they were doing in that way, as reproducing the action of dopamine and seratonin blockers.

While they are playing these coy, or not so coy, games, a programme is on Radio 4 tomorrow at 9pm called ‘All In the Mind’, which is going to look at the ‘fact’, so they say, that between five and seven people die every week under a mental health section.  This is not something to play with.  It isn’t fair.  I’ve taken every baseball game position possible to ask for help or if I can help, over the years, and I’m now wondering why.

AOL is featuring a story of the queen with a bloodshot eye, and a piece of film where Prince Philip first looks at the camera then looks into his binoculars.  I’m not sure if there is any actual connection with the fact that Tommy Boyd has one eye he can’t see much out of because he said he was bitten by a dolphin, I think.

Being a write bloody bitch is hard.

Mine is not to reason why
Mine is but to write or die

Or risk trying to explore these things in a real face to face

Or try to retrieve any chance of a relationship buried under my cowardice and shit.

One woman has been on this acute ward for about a year.  Another for two.  So they have said.

A lookalike of a new patient, who is in turn a lookalike of Dorothy Shearman, came on Come Dine With Me this afternoon.  Everyone reacted, silently.  We are afraid to be the first to say anything in case no one else joins us.

I really think the drugs companies and the psychiatrists are knowingly dependent on each other, to some extent, for their living and have no wish to rock the boat with real reality.  The obviousness of it is so filling my mind with words to speak of it that I can only reduce it down to ‘disgusting’.  Love covers everything except organised abuse and agreed cowardice.

These places are awful.  They see the expression of fear or anger or like emotions as things demanding to be medicated, not as an opening to a meaningful conversation with another human being.  Very roudy lady on the ward at the moment.  Threw a few things around, was screaming last night.  She has my sympathy,  The quality of some screams make you want to go to the person and help them.  She came in trying to be friendly, placatory, I suppose, but before long she was screaming.

I was thinking that they lock us up in these places in an enforced codependency.  They want us to be like them, and insofar as we are not, and the authorities can be made to look as if they permit us to be treated this way, they lock us up until we are a bit more like them, or whoever else it was that wanted to get us sectioned.  I can’t even spell this word, but it is a form of eugenics.  Tommy Boyd had some conversations on the radio about this subject.

I was thinking today that, if Tommy had confidence in me way back then and he is, as he has said, anti all the labelling of ordinary human behaviour and emotions as mental illness – if he had confidence in me and I didn’t respond as he had hoped, it might be right that I recognise that I have contributed to suffering and suicide over all the time I have been listening to him, which might have been prevented.  If these places are, as I keep saying, the UK’s concentration camps.

I have mixed feelings, always, about this.  Today there was a story about someone being force-fed because she did not have the capacity to make a decision herself. These are the kinds of stories which make me stop and think that maybe the psychiatric profession as we know it is necessary, even for those of us who are unwilling, because our fear of something so emotive and identity-challenging as being called mentally ill blinds us to the necessity of the treatment plans enforced.

If that is right then bang goes my assertion that medicine without consent is not medicine, ad that these places should only be fore people who are there voluntarily and no coersion should ever be used.

Maybe this is and should be a different issue from the incessant inconsistencies of application of policy and procedure within the institution, and the cruelty, contempt and violence, psychological and otherwise.

I don’t know.  There have been plenty of times that I have wanted to scream in distress and anger but have not dared for fear of the ‘consequences’.  I put that word in inverted commas, because so often I have heard parents say that children need to be taught that undesired behaviour has consequences, by which they mean a forfeit or a pnishment, sometimes physical.  If the consequences of behaviour are not inherent in the behaviour anything negative a person says is necessary for the offender to feel is not direct from the behaviour and therefore has nothing to do with it.

I’m tired.  I know there is more I want to write but I can’t think at the moment.

I talked to someone at a day centre in Chichester once, asking her if she knew of Tommy Boyd.  She said she didn’t like him and had heard him say that all psychiatric patients should be locked up.  I have a problem with this because I don’t know what to think of it.  I didn’t hear him say it.  And he has often said he sometimes says things to be provocative.  I didn’t hear him say it.  And he has had access to some of the essays I wrote for my English degree.

I keep being angry and ashamed, at the moment, of the ‘fact’ that I have been so arrogant and conceited towards Tommy, thinking he was taking from me rather than that he was representing to me what I had already learned, and also things of his own.  My heart twists when I think how hard he was trying to communicate with me and needing my co-operation.  Then I remember that the reason I have wanted to go it alone, as it were, was that I didn’t want this issue to be decided on gifts and abilities or social standing or connections. I didn’t want to be heard in the psychiatric situation because of who or what was on my side.  I wanted to be considered level and equal with the least gifted and the least desirable, because to fight this issue any other way is just another form of eugenics, in someone’s favour rather than against them.  From the start I have said and meant that I don’t want to be a hero (how can I be, there are areas of my life which are too awful to permit that, though I hear that the great Gandhi used to beat his wife).  I don’t want a statue erected to my part in the downfall of UK’s concentration camps.  I don’t want a foundation in my name, or my name in history for anything to do with any of this, should this great and necessary work be successful.  Because that perpetrates a mentality which says in the face of such awfulness ‘we need another (whoever)’ ‘there is nothing we can do, we don’t know enough about it, no one will listen to us, we know but we can’t do anything’.

I’m not special.  I love it when I feel I am, I feel happy and energised.  But I know that no awfulness anywhere is going to be stopped by maintaining the belief that we need to depend on the emergence of a special person.  If anyone is special, it is the people who are making me feel special.  I hope I wouldn’t be just a stepping stone along the way.  I want to be in the truck that swings the demolision ball for the whole system of coersive medicine.  I’m a Christian.  One special person, to me, did something decisive 2 millenia ago, and the Bible says that he took the keys of death and hell at that moment, and told the rest of us to do the work.

I was thinking about George Orwell’s book 1984 as well.  Where, at the end, after the ultimate betrayal of each other (so the book presents it) in wishing their own greatest nightmares on each other when faced with them physically, they pass each other without acknowledgment, the male protagonist hears the voice of ‘Big Brother’, still surrounded by his images on hoardings and everywhere, and weeps as he realises that he loves Big Brother, and that is where it ends.

I’ve always felt that to be awful and tragic, brainwashing.  That is how Orwell wanted it to be seen, isn’t it?  A very pessimistic outlook on falling into the loving arms of Big Brother and returning the love.  I was taught about the unreliable narrator.  Surely the most unreliable narrator can be the writer him or her self.

I have been ‘loving’ my Big Brother recently, who is all around me and inescapable.  Is it the government, or the media, or a combination?  If it is a combination, what happens when they fall out of love?  If they love me now, what happens when they stop loving me?  The book ended on this broken man’s realisation that he loved Big Brother. It didn’t take us any further than that, though there would have been a further to go in his life.  Is the purpose of the book just to show and present a picture of the effects of torture and brainwashing and leave it there and let the rest of us pick it up and deal with it?

Does Big Brother love me?  Who does Big Brother love?  The political Big Brother is not the same from age to age, with the same agenda.

If we are, in the positive sense, Big Brother to each other, who or what is keeping us apart?

Wow, So Busy (in my head)

I’ll make time to draft tonight and post tomorrow.  At least now I have my own laptop again and can draft it offline in the privacy of a room which is not going to disappear!

One comment only:

I wrote everything about the deaths and everything to my psychiatrist. She still decided I was section 3 material and I have received no support following my letter, certainly not any based on the content of my letter, which people who know my blog is personally sensitive, and I asked her if she considered herself responsible for the information I have given her, and she said no.  My immediate response to that was to thank her for that piece of information.

Wrote to my uncle, am now in touch with my sister again.  Wrote to Tommy Boyd, but not with this, have to clear my flat by Friday, they decided I don’t have a close enough connection in my uncle.  That was before they knew I had a sibling here, and before I did, because I didn’t know where she was, but she told me that our uncle had been accepted as a link in her case.

Does the plot thicken,or have the rules changed?

I’vehad nothing in writing about anything, just threats of getting rid of my stuff, on the phone, if I didn’t turn up with basically an hour’s notice.

Love you, you-know-who.  It feels so delusional I daren’t even say your name with that statement.

I know that, because I know something of what I am going to write, and people’s reasons will vary.  Personally, when this is posted, I will want to throw up, because I don’t think a decent person would post something like this.

I wrote to someone yesterday and asked for help, saying my alternative was to blog it, because the details are sensitive and involve other people and their tragedies, which have already been in the national news headlines.  I am going to be coupling this with my own plight as someone who has been mentioning this kind of thing to my psychiatrists for years and been told it is probably a coincidence.

I keep hearing murders reported on the national radio news (I don’t watch much tv at the moment and if I did I might find even more cause for concern in the images) which have salient details in common with my life, past and present.  Here are three from the last 2 months.  I have been aware of others which I haven’t latched onto in the same way, but now every time a newreader’s tone becomes serious I listen for the details and am sometimes astounded that it has nothing that I can hear to connect it to me.  Very often it has something I can identify as a part of my life.

1.  The hostages killed over a month ago, Franco and Chris.  My name is Sue, I am a Christian.  Chris is often used in this way.  My uncle’s name is Frank.  They were captured on 12 May 2011, my uncle Frank’s birthday, and slaughtered as I thought I was embarking on a new lifestyle temporarily in Wales.  This kind of coincidence has happened before.

2. Dunford and Julie Davison, one new story.  The first vicar I can remember in Bestwood, Nottingham, where I was born, is/was called Dunford.  The girl across the corridor from me in my hall of residence, who is also 50 now, like Julie Davison, is/was called Julie Davie.  Two people connected with my personal life, linked in the same murder news item.  I reported this one to the area police responsible, over the phone, and said I had had a lot of these coincidences in the past.  The next day someone had been arrested, but I have heard nothing myself in response to my call.  I am wondering if they have decided I am an unreliable witness because I have a mental health diagnosis of schizophrenia, based in the first place on my insistence that this was happening.  Patients on a ward are not regarded as reliable witnesses for each other either and their versions of events are not called for.  This is written in the procedural literature.

3.  The latest thing is the Philpot fire in Derbyshire, which has taken the lives of 6 children, all the children the mother had.  I can’t imagine the devastation this poor woman must be feeling.  The last I heard the police were treating it as arson.  Our next door neighbour when I was a child in Nottingham was called Mrs Philpot.

All 3 of these facts are checkable by asking members of my family who have not, to my knowledge, been certified.   So why haven’t I turned to them to back me up?  Good question.  What about someone who does not have family to back them up in this kind of assertion?  Am I just attention seeking?  I am uncomfortable with that question and its possible answers.

I started listening to Osho teaching on Napster a few years ago.  Shortly after that there was a bombing close to an Osho ashram.  There is much more I can’t remember at the moment.  Some of it might be in this blog already.

My psychiatrists have been saying it is a coincidence.  I am not sure how these families would feel about that.  They are saying it is a coincidence and that I have a delusional disorder.  They have been/are considering treating me under section 3 of the mental health act.  While I was telling them what was happening they were making ‘mumpy’ questioning faces at me, as if I was a child who understood nothing.

I can’t see the responsibility or the morality of making such an assessment and decision about such dense coincidences often repeated, when treating them as serious and me as reliable based on facts which have nothing to do with the creation of my brain might lead to the uncovering of terrorist and murderous gangs.  Apart from the fact that a hospital bed costs the country £700 a night, surely there must be a responsibility to take something like this seriously and investigate it properly, both for my sake and the sakes of those who are losing their lives, and to make it stop.

A few practical details which are trivial in comparison, but also relevant.  I am a vegan.  Meal times are made a battle, and were before I was a vegan, but now I am not getting adequate provision and am having to supplement what I eat with my own purchases.  There is nowhere near enough protein in what I am given to eat.  Twice I have been given a tortilla wrap with salad vegetables, yesterday I was given a carton of rice dotted with peppers and sweetcorn.  These are my concerns which do not seem to have registered.  Someone catering for a hospital should know how to cater for all diets.  You can’t chose a niche hospital as you can a restaurant, and if you are there against your wishes it adds to the distress not to have adequate nutrition and to be intensely aware of that fact.

Nurses are playing mind games with me, and so are cleaning staff.  Fixed smiles, chattering into my relaxed speech with someone else, one nurse, an MA in Art, said that until recently he thought that Malaysia was the disease and malaria was the country.  I thought he was joking but he insisted he wasn’t.  He has an MA in art so it is possible that it is true and that I should give him the benefit of the doubt.  But it doesn’t seem likely . . . .

Nurses keep saying hello and are you ok and that is as far as it goes.  Big smiles, sometimes I feel seething, but that is hard for me to say and be taken seriously.  But I feel, yes, and?  Get to the point or leave me alone.  I experience it as harassment.  People insisting that you engage in conversation in a place where you are held against your wishes and not as a criminal, and never coming to the point of what they want to say or ask, if anything.  Outside I would not have to engage in conversation with anyone I didn’t want to talk to.  Rights are presented as gifts in what might be perceived as a good conversation about something else.  I have been told I could see a dietician but it hasn’t been taken any further, and often when I have knocked on the office door they haven’t even looked up to acknowledge my presence.  I think a lot of patients get this.

The other day I was talking in the dining room about what I thought about the system and wishing people who said they hadn’t wanted the job for what they were being required to do would have the courage of their convictions and find something else, because if they don’t like doing it, they should put themselves in our place and consider how much less we like having it done to us.  My psychiatrist yesterday said that my letter to Nottingham City Homes had been full of self reference, which she says is a symptom of delusion.  I pointed out that I had had no written acknowledgment of the letters I had sent them, and she drew back a little at this.  But by self-reference she meant that I thought the violent harassment from upstairs was being aimed at me and that I was being followed and targeted in my flat, where I know we could hear each other much too well for privacy.  So it wasn’t self-referential, it was referring to behaviour which I believe was being aimed at me as harassment by others who had me in their minds.  Even if I was wrong about that it hardly matters, because the behaviour, whether aimed at me or not, was intolerable and not something I should have been expected to live with.  If I wasn’t thinking straight it is hardly surprising and it should have been dealt with as unacceptable behaviour whether it was considered targeted or not.   I was self referential in that I talked about my confusion about how I should be handling it, but to me that is a sign of honest, responsible communication, not delusion.  It worries me that people who can seize responsibility and power over me in this way can have a problem with that.  I was asking for help to process it.  I can’t see how that is delusional behaviour.  It isn’t.  I don’t think anyone I’ve learned anything from that I value would see it that way.

I’m running out of time and can’t continue much longer, though there are other points I want to highlight.

I want writing to be a pleasure and a development.  But sometimes it has to be work.  Sometimes you have to document and not just create.  I have realised I have to be something in my writing which I have never seen as a necessity, since I have not been in this position since years before I started my blog.  If I am to survive, and if I am to be honest and responsible and fulfil what I believe to be my obligations, I have to start writing like a campaigner and an activist.  I have to see myself as that in a way I haven’t before.

The fact that I have written this is not saying that I don’t trust the person that I wrote to yesterday.  It is my situation and I can’t keep asking other people for help.  I have to own it myself, and if I or others are going to say that what I have written is indecent, I have to own that also.  This is my necessary task.  Let those who will, help me.

 

Continued from ‘Police Stop and Search Slashed’ post.

Some time after 6am I found myself confronted by two police women asking me what I was doing there and, as I tried to explain, they talked me down and I thought they were rude, so I persisted in trying to explain until I got upset and they said I wasn’t being very nice.  They said they were trying to help me, all I could see was that they wanted to move me on, and I felt as if I had been a specific target.  I just thought they were really rude and unintelligent in the way they communicated and I was trying really hard to make them understand how I was feeling and how this was not a permanent or particularly chosen situation for me to be in, that I had tried to get a crisis loan and the systems had been down, and everything else I said in the post I referred to in my opening line.  They were pointing at me and being really provocative and aggressive.  Not violent, aggressive.

The next thing I knew they were calling backup, and 2 male officers arrived.  The way they looked at me and treated me and teased me about the way I was behaving, I lost it.

There was a male member of airport staff with a white shirt sitting opposite me, he had been there for about half an hour.  He had been speaking, it seemed to me, for my hearing, even though he must have been about 25 feet away.  He was lounging backwards and eyeing me and his body language was challenge and domination.  He continued to watch and listen intently, almost as if he was theatre audience or in a court room, while these police women were talking to me, and he was freaking me out.  I told the police I wasn’t going to talk to them anymore while he was sitting there doing what he was doing and until he was removed.  He was just eyeing me determinedly, but they refused to deal with him.

One of the male officers said loudly at some point, ‘all women are crazy’ and I wanted to make it stop and make it unsaid and take him to task but there seemed to be no way to do it.  I didn’t know how to handle it.  I was horrified and couldn’t believe he had said it.  Eventually they were dragging me out of the airport and he was continuing to be provocative.  I was objecting and he was saying ‘no one cares’, and it felt like a personal and emotional invalidation.  I had recently heard on The News Quiz on Radio 4 that 700-900 officers in the Metropolitan police have criminal records, including GBH.  Someone has told me since this incident that people with criminal records are not allowed to join the police and the records might have been gained while with the police, but I don’t know.

Anyway, I was wound up and swearing, and the same man said ‘if you swear once more I will put you under arrest’.  So I said, not feeling able to back down at that point, ‘OK then, fuck off’.  It was funny, he should have laughed and seen how inappropriate he was being himself.  The woman officer at the station I told as i was leaving laughed when I recounted it, and that felt like a real relief.  But instead he just said straight away, ‘right, you’re under arrest’.  At some point he put handcuffs on me.  My right wrist was black and purple for almost a week afterwards.

I said they were acting illegally, and that while I might be on the wrong side of the police, the police were on the wrong side of the law.  I said they were illegal, he said contemptuously ‘we all know what you are.  I asked him what and he wouldn’t answer.  I kept pressing him for an answer and he wouldn’t say.  I started shouting the odds again about the figures for police with criminal records, addressing the people around me, and he kept saying ‘no one cares’.  I said that wasn’t true.   I get one incident mixed up with another so I’m not sure how much I said on that occasion.  So I won’t make it up as if I can.

Every time I spoke they were speaking into and over me, if that makes sense to people.  I said they had killed my father, that he had committed suicide, but that I wasn’t going to commit suicide, I was going to blog.  At the same time that I was saying I was only 11 years old when my father committed suicide, he was saying, ‘I bet he killed himself because of you’.  I’ve heard that only one other time in my life, from a class mate straight after his death.  I was outraged, like an animal in pain.  He had no right to say that, but no matter how much I objected and kept trying to say they had no right to do what they were doing, they just kept mocking me and talking me down.

When they took me out of the van they gave a skewed account to the desk sergeant about what had happened and I said it was a misrepresentation.  They were being strict and confrontational, I said I had an appointment with the housing people about getting emergency housing at 11am (it was between 7.30 and 8am) and the sergeant said ‘I think you are going to miss it’.  I said ‘I bet you’re going to keep me here until it is too late for me to get a crisis loan today as well, aren’t you, so I will have no money tonight either, so what do you expect me to do and what good do you think you are doing?’

I felt I was being treated unfairly throughout and was angry and trying to be heard, but they were deliberately ignoring me.  I’m not sure if I had mentioned the harassment and vigilantism at this point or not.  But somehow it came about that the man who had been saying the things I have written started saying with seething anger, ‘she is going to come up to the desk and talk to you like a lady’.  I said ‘I will start acting like a lady when you start acting like a decent man’.

They insisted I take my watch and therapeutic magnet off.  I said I didn’t want the disorientation of not even knowing what time it was, but in the end I relinquished them, and my necklace which I won in a Crisis at Christmas raffle, because the way they grabbed my hands it felt as if they might break my fingers if I didn’t.

At 8.10am they put me in a bare cell with a bed shelf and mattress, a blanket and a toilet.  There was no toilet paper.  They said they would get me some breakfast but I got nothing until lunchtime, by which time I hadn’t eaten or drunk anything or been to the toilet for over 12 hours.  I had not been offered a drink during this time.

They told me at the beginning of the morning that I could see a duty solicitor.  I left without having seen one.  They were reading something at the beginning while I was upset and shouting and they said ‘that’s a no, then’ to something I didn’t hear.

Soon, after not having slept all night, I started to fall asleep on the bench.  As soon as I did I heard a male voice shout out, and they were banging.  This happened several times, that one of them shouted out as soon as I began to fall asleep.  I felt desperate.  I later saw that there was a camera on the ceiling pointed straight at my bed.  I wondered how closely they had it trained on me.  Over the last 2 days I have thought seriously that they were deliberately using sleep deprivation and I believe I am right.

Their idea of a vegan lunch was chips and some vegetables, no protein.  I gave up trying to eat it, I was so upset.  I asked if i could have a cup of tea with my soya milk, but they said no, I couldn’t have anything which had come from outside the station, even though they had no soya milk and didn’t offer to get any for me.

Several times, at least through the afternoon, a male officer would walk up to my cell door, stop outside and cough hard and significantly, and walk away again.  It frightened and angered me.  I kept feeling screaming and hysteria rise into my throat which I had to control, because I knew expressing it would do no good.  I kept wanting to speak to them like friends and ask for their help.

On the ceiling inside the door there was a sign that said there could be a monetary reward for anonymous information leading to crime.  When I saw it I said something about bribery and corruption.

I have felt over the last couple of days that they had me there expecting me to ‘talk’.  But they never asked me any questions.

Later in the afternoon I said something about a cup of tea and that I was a vegan and didn’t drink dairy milk.  The officer was angry and rude and dismissive.  He brought a cup of tea, even though I had said i didn’t want black tea, and I also didn’t want water, which was all they would offer me instead.  So when he turned up with this I wondered what it was and asked him if it was black or if it had milk.  He said it was powdered milk, and put it down on the floor rudely saying ‘it’s tea, do you want it or don’t you?  You either want it or you don’t’.  I ‘said’, ‘I’m a vegan and have been for 4 years.  That is my life choice and you are being abusive and disrespectful’.

There were no books, nothing to write with, nothing was offered, and I was harassed constantly and not allowed to sleep.  I was a wreck.  After all that and everything they had put me through in the morning, I think at some point I asked them when the solicitor was coming and what we were waiting for, and the officer said we were waiting for a doctor, because they thought I needed a mental health assessment.  I started shouting angrily and hysterically, saying after everything they had done to me and without having seen a solicitor, they wanted to subject me to a mental health assessment, and I said all they were really interested in seeing from me was naked fear.

When the doctor came I was taken to an office with an open door, and as we were talking the police started to interfere again in the same way as they had been doing before when I was speaking, but pretending it had nothing to do with me.  I had asked for the door to be closed for privacy, but the doctor had refused and said it wasn’t necessary.  When the interventions came I started to be afraid and panic, and they kept them coming until I was unable to control my fear.  The doctor refused to recognise what was happening, and he ended the interview telling the police, after I had gone, that he thought I needed a mental health assessment.

I didn’t find this out until several hours later when I asked again what we were waiting for and when the solicitor was going to arrive.  All day I was not told that I would not be seeing a solicitor.  They said we were waiting for a mental health team because the doctor had believed I needed an assessment.  Again I became angry and hysterical.

Before my father died we had a dog, which survived his death by a few years.  When he was alive my dad used to take him out with a big stick.  I think there was a nail in the stick at one point.  I used to tease my dog with the stick and thought it was really funny when he went running under the settee screaming.  I have realised in recent years he was terrified and been really upset at myself for what I did.  He would come out all docile and upset and exhausted, qlmost as if he was crying and telling me he was upset.  Loving and trusting me and telling me, his tormentor, that he was upset and frightened and taking comfort from me.

That is how I felt when they started talking about mental health teams.  I thought they did it to make me scream, and they got that much, at least.

The mental health team decided I didn’t need to be in hospital and told me the offciers were going to try to find me somewhere to stay that night.

When the evening shift took over a woman came to my cell.  She seemed nice and sympathetic, and when I told her what the offcier had said about my father killing himself because of me, she seemed genuinely shocked and said he shouldn’t have said that.

I can’t remember all the order of how the last part of the day happened, but she told me that, because I had been arrested, they had the power to take my DNA and fingerprints.  I believed that saying she had the power was not the same as saying it was something they HAD to do, so I asked her if she was going to do it.  She said a male officer was going to do it.  She said he was a ‘good lad’, and I wondered what that counted for with people like the police.  What would this ‘good lad’ do with people who were not me?

I didn’t believe there was any point trying to resist or persuade, and I don’t know how I let them do it.  I knew throughout that it was unjust and an assault and although she kept trying to keep it light, I felt as if I was standing there having to pretend it was OK for them to rape me and believe the people doing it were ‘good’.  I couldn’t lash out.  They forced it through knowing as well as I did, I believe, that they had no right to be doing it and it wasn’t OK.  It was all a pretence and they were demanding a pretence of me. I was not at liberty to say how repulsive and abusive it was, although we all knew it.  I had to stand there and pretend that this enormity was a small and inconsequential thing, not an act of illegal subjugation and domination.

Afterwards, when I was standing at the desk, I saw a male officer behind a glass screen sitting in front of a computer.  I wasn’t sure if he had been there all day, he was acting as if he was part of the next shift.  I started watching him while he was watching his screen, and wondering what he was doing or reading or looking at.  My attitude was open, and as I watched, I saw him begin to smile and his smile got bigger and happier.  I thought he was reacting to me and I looked around and saw a camera immediately above the desk.  I realised he was watching me and immediately switched him off and turned away from the camera.  As I did his features darkened.  His number was ID 24.  A few minutes later he came out and said he was leaving and finishing his shift.  But I realised he was observing me at the desk through the camera.

After he went the woman officer tried to contact the out of hours crisis loan office, but there wasn’t one in that area, and no loan could be arranged.  Also they couldn’t arrange somewhere for me to spend the night.  Before I left she started talking with her colleague who was going to run me to the bus station.  She was talking in ways I felt I recognised, about ‘her 2 year old’ and that she was ‘vain’.  She seemed to be commenting on my bodily reactions that she could see from behind.  She talked about something being ‘back breaking’.

I had already talked to her about people talking in code.  I believed she was talking about me.  I thought she must be, she couldn’t possibly be calling her own child ‘vain’.  I couldn’t, at that time, believe she would do that.

Her colleague ran me to the bus station in a van exactly the same as the one I had been brought to the station in, and I sat in the back, exactly the same as before.  I felt it was a deliberate re-enactment, reversed, of what I had been through in the morning.  I almost felt as if they were saying that, if I had responded differently, I could have received (more) help.  I thought they had said I could hang around the bus station with everyone else, because there were people there all night.  But when I sought to clarify this as I got out of the van she said she hadn’t said any such thing and that I could be picked up for doing so, that it would be best if I didn’t.  But she knew I had no money and nowhere to go.  I wondered if she had been trying to get a last second capitulation from me.  I wanted to go back to the airport, it felt like the right thing to do and my right, but I was afraid and didn’t, I got on the tube.  I was upset and disorientated.

They had held me for 14 hours in sensory deprivation conditions, constantly harassed and banged at and coughed at and deprived of sleep, deliberately, I believed, and subjected to mental cruelty and torture.  In all that time I never saw the solicitor I had been told I would see.

11.41 am.  I’m blogging after more police harassment at Starbucks, 99 St Martins Lane, WC2.  I want to laugh now.  I think I bring it on myself by not responding to their attitude and insistence on getting the last word with a sense of humour.  I think it shows I am not a good citizen, not having a sense of humour when they behave this way.  I’m not sure how they would react if  I were to laugh instead of outdo them and get upset and tell them they have no right to do what they are doing, etc.  I might feel better myself, if I could approach it with a sense of humour.  I feel I should say I am sorry for not respecting them in their job, and just laugh, then it would all be behind me and the world would be all right again.  That if I had done that years before I might not now be a 51 year old menopausal woman having to come to terms with the fact that I have not had children.

After 4 nights without a bed and people keep coming at me psychologically and leaving me feeling assaulted, I committed the crime of falling asleep after a cup of tea and a bag of nuts, which is all I can eat in Starbucks.  A little while before the police came I heard someone banging things around me, and that was obviously their idea of trying to wake me up.  I don’t respond to that kind of thing, though.  Also I find it hard to stay awake at the moment anyway, being aware, as I am, of the kind of psychological harassment I am getting from sales and security staff, let alone ‘ordinary’ people in the street.

The police woman, CW 2598 or 3598, with subsequent things from them after I got her number ‘m not sure if I have remembered it right, came in and told me I couldn’t just sleep there.  That it was coming up to lunch time and I couldn’t just occupy a seat without buying anything.  I said I had had a cup of tea there and I buy quite a lot of stuff and no one had tried to wake me.  She said they had.  I suggested I could go to the toilet and get another cup of coffee, then, as they do, she turned control of the conversation back round to herself by asking me what my plans were after I had just told her, and when I told her again she said OK and just stood there.  I asked her if they were going to stay there while I bought the coffee and she said yes, that they wouldn’t be doing their job otherwise.  So I was expected to buy a cup of coffee, hand over my money to these people, under police watch.  I snapped out of my drowsiness and said I would rather write to the company and complain about harassment, but that I was going to the toilet first.

I went in, used the toilet, brushed my hair and brushed my teeth.  Before I was finished the male officer (there were 3, 1 man and 2 women) knocked on the door and asked me if I was going to be long.  I said no.  When I came out they were all sitting there waiting for me.

I passed them and went up to the cafe staff and told them they hadn’t spoken to me or tried to wake me before calling the police.  She was acting as if she didn’t understand what I was saying, and said they had tried to wake me.  I said I was prepared to buy another cup of coffee, if they asked the police to leave first, that I was not prepared to do it under police watch.  Someone said something and I said I had the right to buy another cup of coffee.  One of the officers said the staff there also had the right to ask me to leave if they wanted to, so I asked them if they wanted me to leave rather than buy another cup of coffee, and they said they wanted me to leave.  The police then took control as I tried to walk past them freely and dsimiss the situation and walk away with some dignity, the woman whose number I have mentioned kept ‘backchatting’ me, so I went up to her to look at the number on her lapel.  I couldn’t see the letters, they were hidden, and she didn’t offer the letters, so I moved the strap, and then she began to get defensive and angry, saying I couldn’t just touch her strap to get her number (why not, after everything they do to me?  This isn’t just about doing a good job, is it?)  So we had a small argument and in the end I told her to stop the sass and the attitude and began to walk away, and as I did she kept it coming.  The male officer started making mocking gestures at me.  He kept it up for about 5 minutes.  I stopped in the street and said that I was not now acting illegally, just standing by a lamp post, and they stood there with me. They did not want to leave me in peace or in control, or acknowledge my rights with any semblance of real recognition or sympathy.

They crossed the road, still making gestures, and I shouted after them, saying they were supposed to defend the weak, not harass them, that they were supposed to be a service to the whole community, not just the money makers, I said they despised us and we despised them (where are all the people who hate the police when I am the one getting harassed?).  I said they were hand in glove with the money makers and the mafia, at which point the male officer making gestures looked as if he was about to come back over, but stopped.  I thought he looked angry.  I believe I spoke the truth.  He went back to the gestures, with a couple of men standing between us and just looking in my direction smiling and finding it ammusing, even though I was obviously distressed, and I shouted at him that he was not supposed to be standing there mocking me with his gestures and that he would have gone to a Victorian insane asylum and mocked people there, as was the sport in those days of a Sunday afternoon.  That is the way it was opresented to me, anyway.  Maybe it wasn’t just the Sunday sport.  Maybe they could do it any time.

People talk about putting the mockers on people.  The Bible says that God will mock, and that he who sits in the heavens will laugh.  I have often wondered down the years if this mockery from people in authority that I have been taught to respect and trust is actually a legitimate part of their approach to people in some circumstances, and thought that my problem with it shows I have a problem with and a bad attitude towards authority.  That my heart is wrong and my dispositon is wrong and that I am rebellious and ‘a bad lot’.  I have thought on many occasions that they would have turned and done everything they could to help me, if only my attitude had been right.  I feel that, over the years, I have, in pride and arrogance, rejected my own redemption from all these wondeful people in society that have said they want to help and that I have accused of harassment and stalking.  How arrogant and selfish of me.  That these people, who are also suffering with me and trying to reach out to me for themselves, for me and for others being caught up in my situation, should have arrogant, proud, independent, ignorant, selfish, power-loving little me shake my naughty fist at them and say ‘no, it is stalking and harassment, you have no right and unless you come to me with the words of your concerns openly I will not respond to you’.

I’ve offended my leaders, i’ve lost Tommy, so it feels.  I want to see his face loving me, and can’t see how he could be anything but ashamed and disgusted with me, as well as hurt for himself.

i burn with shame.  I think I have played an unforgivable and selfish game, and that the consequences I am now suffering in final loneliness and childlessness are my own fault.  I think I am on the scrap heap where my leaders said the disobedient end up.  Yesterday I felt the problem was me and always had been, and had never been anyone else’s.  To some extent and in some respects that has to be the truth.  They used to say that you can’t just think of yourself as being as good as everyone else.  But that was what I did in my teens.  I used to think, look, I  can speak in tongues just like you.  I used to sing the songs and as I was singing them think this isn’t the way it is for me, but I never voiced that to anyone.  Except I think I did to Diane.  I can’t shift this self blame, and no one can help me to.

 

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