Tag Archive: Nottingham


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.

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

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.

Advertisements

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.

Biggest boo-boo

On eve of the 40th anniversary of my father’s suicide I was being mimicked and I had had enough, so I said ‘tomorrow is the 4oth anniversary of my father’s death’.  One of the patients who has been harassing me for ages said shut up, we’ve all got problems, we don’t want to know and the nurse on duty let her get away with it and whe I challenged it said ‘I didn’t know your father’.  OK, she didn’t know my father, but she had a therapeutic duty towards me in which she failed, and had been rude to me before.  I went angrily to my room saying if that was the way they treated such an important anniversary in my life I didn’t care if they were suffering in any way because of their connection to me. A few minutes later another nurse came in and I asked her what she wanted and she said they didn’t normally let people eat in their bedrooms.

The same nurse who told me she hadn’t known my father last night shouted at me for coming out of my room coughing, when I was coming out for medication to help relieve it.  She was really stern.  I got down near the treatment room and the other nurse on dty asked me what I wanted, but I was so far away that when I told her she motioned to me to shush, again very sternly, as if I was a naughty child or deliquent.  I asked her why she had asked me if she hadn’t wanted me to answer.  She has had that attitude to me before, the day before my mental health act assessment for a section 3. She went to the other nurse andshe was giggling. Before she went to her I said they were trying to make imbeciles of us all.

I went back to my room upset and angry, and Linda came in with a tablet, saying I seemed agitated and that there were other patients on the ward.  I refused to take the tablet and she said if I didn’t calm down they would IM me (inject).  She had a nurse called Errol in to back her up.  This is an all female ward. I have said befre I can’t see the necessity of men on an all female ward, and to have had him used that way felt threatening.

On 18th May, just after Dr Fahy had told me she was considering having me assessed for a section 3, he was staring at me while I was eating.  I moved saying I didn’t want to be stared at while I was eating, that it ws rude, and he said ‘they are my eyes, I’ll do what I want with them.  He followed it up with ‘get your dinner down you’ and ‘stop havinfg a tantrum’  When I got really upset with him and pointed my finger he told me not to point my finger, it was rude.  He tried to make me go to another room to eat.

A few days ago he was carrying his alarm thing right near to his penis.  I’ve noticed this with other male staff.  Errol is black, his alarm thing there looked like a statment of dominant black male sexuality, that was how I interpreted it at the time.  I know about the idea that black men targeted white women for rape.  I am reading a book, or at least have started, called ‘The Other Side of Silence’, about the abuse of wmen, and the ritual rejection of some women where the men would bare their backsides at them and shake their veined penises at their rejects.  That is why I think this might be a significant thing for me to record.

It was about 2am when this thing happened last night.  I was so upset I couldn’t sleep again until 5am.  I was so angry, wondering why they escalated it as they did to threats if njections, instead of apologising for the sternness and taking responsibility for the way t had made me feel.  Linda is covered in tattoos.  I still wonder what kind of personality does that to herself.  It isn’t one I want over me.  Before, when I talked about me, a 50 year old menopausal woman being cheeked by girls barely in their twenties, she told me I was rude and all their staff were . . . she didn’t finish.  After I rallied from that I said that that wasn’t rude, it was complaint material which she had tried to put down. Now she keeps calling me love, my love, my lovely, darling, as I do other patients out of what is probably at least sometimes misguided and unwelcome identification and sympathy with them.

Sometimes I feel I am telling tales out of school.  But there are people who don’t know what to do with this and who feel more destroyed by it than I did, and might take their lives at such provocation.  That is partly why I am writing this.  This stuff happens everywhere.  I think I might be one of the few writing representatives.

Awful 2 vegan days. Last night I ate a McD chicken sandwich and a Twix McFlurry and thoroughly enjoyed them both.  Later had an egg and cress sandwich in Tesco.  Day befre had 2 Fish filet sandwiches from McD’s. Thoroughly enjoyed those as well. My reasons for being vegan are moral and spiritual.  That is what makes my lapse so inexcusable and awful.  But right now I could easily throw the whole thing in.  It would seem so much easier to stop depriving myself of good food in a place I can’t cook for myself.

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.

 

Another Home, Another . . .

She keeps screaming hallelujah, day and night, several times a minute during the day, they are violent . . . talk about deja vu!  I’ve written to the council.

Guess who is feeling responsible again?

Someone knocked on my door this afternoon.  Twice.  It was an official-sounding knock but no one spoke or announced themselves, so I don’t know who it was.  I’ve decided not to do deja vu on the way I treat knocks at the door.  If they don’t announce themselves as police I won’t automatically assume they are or act out of a knee jerk feeling that they are.  I’ve decided not to answer the door if I’m not expecting anyone and I don’t know who it is.  If they say they are the police I will answer, but I am still nervous.  I never know what decisions they are going to make about me and I am scared.

They can hear my radio when I have it on, a small DAB radio.  She hallelujahs at the end of every song, and every time a song mentions baby they are they conferring together saying ‘hmm, yes’.  I’m trying not to panic, but in the circumstances it is hard.  I’m more afraid of the authorities than I am of them.

I’ve got temporary council housing in Nottingham.  I’ve been in it for 2 weeks, I don’t know if they are going to house me permanently and if it would mean a change of address if they do.  I’ve been under pressure to collect my belongings for ages and have just learned that an estimate given by a removal man’s business friend in storage was very underestimated.  I was violently ejected off a campsite in Wales by an ex-police owner.  Almost 3 weeks later and the bruise on the inside of my arm is almost vanished.  My uncle lent me money which I decided to use for breathing space rather than make a decision under pressure to enter into a contract.  The campsite owner kept all my belongings and the camping equipment I had just bought, saying I didn’t own anything anymore.  I think I left with just the clothes I had on.  I had told him that one of his staff had touched me and been harassing me, and instead of dealing with it responsibly and professionally, he dealt with it that way.  I’ve asked twice for a social worker and heard nothing.  The council here knows what is happening, I have told them.

All told I feel sick with apprehension and embarrassment.  I reported the campsite incident to the police in Swansea, under the misapprehension that Neath came under Swansea.  All told I was there from around 4pm to around 11.30pm, and while I was in the interview room I was treated like a circus act and barracked and heckled from officers in nearby rooms, and they were laughing.  They were getting all the dirt they could about me and letting me hear it, and when I joked about my wellies from Tescos being a bit too tight for me because my right leg was too fat with a couple of the female officers, one of the male offcers said ‘that’s more like it, a friendly joke, not assaulting a police officer’, as though he had a right and that was the whole story and as if he did not know the abuses I have been through myself in my life.

I’m frightened of the police and mental health services, and I have asked the council for support I haven’t received or had the request acknowledged, at least I have received no letter.  My mobile phone was among the things the campsite owner kept hold of.  I can’t afford another right now.  I’m wondering if this situation is going to be used again to frighten me with mental health admissions.  I’ve already had several assessments in the last few months where it was decided I didn’t need to be in hospital, but not having any money or security and having my stuff taken from me left right and centre and another bout of 24 hour harassment is freaking me out.  Because before, in London, they said it was all in my mind and kept putting me under a section.

The woman I last spoke to at the council seemed to be trying to be understanding and sympathetic and human, but I have heard nothing and I don’t know what is happening or what decisions are being made and why.  I have told them so much which historically has been used to section me.  And people are reacting all over the place, as before.  It seems as if everyone has an expectation that I should tell them everything.  I’m thinking about the people’s courts under communism.  It is really terrifying, not least because I don’t feel free to express how offensive I find it.  If you confront people with their behaviour they can get really nasty.  They like to pretend they are not doing anything.

I think I’ve got £15 until next Thursday.  I made sure I topped up my bus pass for a week so I can get around.  I’ve got a fair amount of food.  I feel crazy with pain and fear and anger I daren’t express, and not knowing.

But my neighbours seem nice.  I feel treacherous and stupid.  I haven’t lived in Nottingham for ages, and I don’t know what is normal and what isn’t.

As I said in my letter to the council which, all being well, they should get tomorrow, I keep feeling as if it is me that is being perverse.  I’m wondering if she has learning difficulties, but sometimes it feels like a complete wind up, and as always, her timing is impeccably uncanny.  I’m not sure of the spiritual mechanics of it, but it is.

Sometimes they seem really nice, and one of the guys up there seems emotionally upset by it all.

I’ve told the council we need help and support.  I said we, not just I.  I haven’t heard a thing.  It is a week ago.  She said she ‘insisted’ that I stop reacting as I was breaching the terms of my contract.  But after agreeing with her, I now feel and believe that the terms of the contract were not written to inhibit understandable human reactions from people who are in a situation like this one.  But I did agree, saying also that if I agreed to stop then we needed support. . .

I’m frightened of the police.  I feel I have to go through a charade with them to communicate and try to get help, and it feels humiliating, because I often feel they are being deliberately ride and obstructive when I try.  I have so much anger built up, and I often hear them getting details on me and the fact that I have a history with the mental health services.  I know that is meant to help them have some idea how to assist, but it usually doesn’t feel as if that is what it is for at the time.  I always see it as a threat when they start talking in those terms, even though rationally I believe now that seeing it that way is a mistake.

But if their idea of helping me is to refer me to mental health services . . . that is what I am frightened of.  Their own conditioning which they act on without question and resent it if I question it.  I am frightened of the powers they have which I cannot resist.

I miss Max.  I’m really upset.  I liked him and felt as if I could trust him from the first time I heard him speak.  I’ve not stopped thinking about him, but it is now over a month that I walked away feeling unable to cope.  I didn’t mean to stay away at the time.

WAGblog: Dum Spiro Spero

"While I breathe, I hope"

Emerging From The Dark Night

Working through the Dark Night of the Soul to emerge as me.

The Elephant in the Room

Writing about my experiences with: depression, anxiety, OCD and Aspergers

The Sir Letters

A Tale of Love

The Seeker's Dungeon

Troubling the Surf with the Ocean

Seroquel Nation

Onward and upward...

We are all in this together

it's gonna be okay.

my last nerve

psychology | psychiatry | neuroscience | n stuff

A Philosopher's Blog

A Philosopher's View of the World...assuming it exists.