It is such an amazing story, and has had me and so many others captured in the spirit of it. I for one am inspired, amazed, impressed and in total awe of how well you wrote the story, and of how well you did whilst in the unit!
I completely, utterly and totally hate the way the NHS (and most other places) deal with mental health problems. Its stupid, if it was a broken leg, you'd be treated with respect, like everyone else. If its a mental health issue, whether self-harm, suicide attempts or various behaviours, you're treated so differently. Dont get me wrong, there are some Doctors, Nurses, Security Guards (I had to deal with them) and other professionals who are nice, understand we never asked for this and want to help. The rest....well they dont care. They treat us like attention seeking brats.
I know some people do Self-Harm for attention, but even they must have deep, dark issues, to do that.
One thing I've learnt over the past 20years of my existence...Never judge a book by its cover!
*realises that she just babbled, and that it probably makes no sense*
Oh well....*hugs* really good story hun!!
You're an inspiration to us all!!
Last edited by B-S-F : 15-10-2009 at 11:11 AM.
"People have abused you lots in the past? Why do you then abuse yourself more?" - Quote
Sometimes I feel like I'm alone, Sometimes I feel like I'm not that strong, Sometimes I feel nothing at all, Sometimes I feel vulnerable, Sometimes I feel a little fragile
wow i've just read this all the way through and i don't know what to say. I think it's really brave of you to write this it can't have been easy and to write it so well is amazing xxx
i've just read the whole story & i'm in floods of tears.
i would quote everything everyone has already said about it if i could.
it's absolutely amazing, i couldn't stop reading.
it deserves to be published.
x
Some Things There Are No Words For, Only Shoulders To Lean On. Hands To Hold On To. And Hugs To Comfort You, As Best They Can.
Buttons - you make me proud.
MeaCulpa - It will never be your fault.
Everyone - Whatever you need to hear.
Oh Katy, this is beautiful! I'm not usually one to be so hooked to a story... but this just got me. Reading about your experiences was both saddening and fascinating. You're very brave for writing down all your feelings like you did, and it truly was a pleasure to read. <3 Take care~!
I feel bad saying "This is such a beautifully written story" because it isn't a story, it's real, and that sounds really stalkerish and I'm going to be quiet now but <3
I know this is really old thread now, and that most of the readers have probably moved on, however I remember at the time of me writing this I was asked if I would write about what happened afterwards, sort of the aftermath of the unit. At the time and during the subsequent year I didn't feel able to, however now I do. So I will be posting in this thread with the next chapter, the chapter after the unit if anybody is interested. I will consequently edit the title of this thread :)
'Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you.'
['There is only one thing we say to death. Not today'.']
'We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell.’ – Oscar Wilde
‘It’s hard to dance with the devil on your back.’ Sydney Carter
Upon leaving the psychiatric unit I felt I was in a sort of limbo; I was free but still closely watched, I was officially on the school register but rarely able to attend, I was cutting deeply but not deeply enough to die.
School loomed bigger and bigger in these weeks, knowing the pressure to try again in a new term, with a new chance if you will, to try and overcome my crippling panic and attempt to fit in. To ‘be normal’. This hope was thwarted earlier than I had expected. I had trusted a select few friends of mine with the information that I had tried to end my own life, thinking each of them trustworthy. Unfortunately one particular friend, although loving and caring, did not appreciate the sensitivity of the information I gave him and subsequently told others at the school about my attempt.
Although he did not intend it to be so, this delicious gossip spread around school like wild fire, so that on my first day back not only did I have to cope with my old phobic response to the school environment, but also to cope with the increase in stares, whispers and downright awkward questions.
I rang my friend a few days before we were due to return to school, spitting with rage. I felt the blade of betrayal keen and true, chiefly because trusting someone, anyone, did not come easily to me. I laid into him with a wrath he had never known from me and we ended the conversation with my assertion that he would be leaving my life forever. For the following 2 years, this was exactly so.
Last edited by Buttons. : 07-06-2011 at 09:01 PM.
'Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you.'
['There is only one thing we say to death. Not today'.']
'We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell.’ – Oscar Wilde
‘It’s hard to dance with the devil on your back.’ Sydney Carter
Ooo i love that your writing again. I remeber you said you would write about what happened after the unit as i asked you :) However i have been waiting patiently as i didn't wanna bug you :P
The first day I returned to school I awoke early, heart thumping. I felt the colour drain from my face as I realised what I had to face; to my mind 7 hours of pure, undiluted hell. I dressed quickly, in fitted trousers, shirt, cotton blue jumper and the blood red tie with a grey splash across it which represented the early days in which I had been on my Hall council, successful and considered to have a positive future. It was an honour of sorts. One I no longer desired nor deserved.
Driving to school my mother took in the deathly pallor of my skin and allowed me to smoke in the car, taking drag after deep, nerve-settling drag. I arrived and ducked round the black railings, walked past the swimming baths and past the large tree by which the friends I had met at the CAMHS support group and by proxy their friends usually met later on during the day. Crossing the courtyard I pushed open the heavy glass doors, walking quickly through the hall, glancing briefly at the black and white faces of former students, the sturdy wooden board declaring the school’s various sporting triumphs. My pace quickened as I passed the girls’ toilets, remembering day after day sequestered in that room, bleeding from one arm or both, throwing up either due to fingers down my throat or pure panic.
I turned a corner and made my way towards the library, a sanctuary of sorts. I hung up my coat and stashed away my bag as usual, then taking a deep breath I wandered into the main reading room, trying my best to feel and appear as though nothing had changed. Despite my appearance I couldn’t help but think… ‘If I had succeeded I would never have experienced this moment.’ It felt like a rebirth of sorts.
I wondered if things had changed, either during the long summer holiday during which I was incarcerated in a unit, or before that point, when my mental health issues made my school experience sporadic and chaotic, an undeniable strain not only on my family, but also upon my teachers and my friends. With relief I spotted four of the latter seated at our old table, Jake, Val, Shirley and Ama.
I smiled nervously at them as I slid into my usual spot, and was relieved as I was immediately included in the usual none-consequential back-to-school gossip. Shirley discussed what would occur when we went to Form together, Ama (to our disgust) the merits of certain scientific data and myself, Jake and Val plans to walk home together, stopping for chips in a local café on the way, just like the old days. It was wonderful to return and act as though nothing had happened, as though nothing had changed. As though the last place Jake, Val and Ama had seen me was not drugged into a stupor in a hospital bed.
As I was falling into these thoughts Tim, the friend who had betrayed my secret walked through the door, accompanied by his friend Marie. He chanced a nervous glance towards me, as though hoping I had changed my mind. I turned away, engaging in Jake’s conversation about what the school production would be this year. I might eventually forgive. But I was sure that I would never, ever forget.
'Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you.'
['There is only one thing we say to death. Not today'.']
'We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell.’ – Oscar Wilde
‘It’s hard to dance with the devil on your back.’ Sydney Carter
