"Fighting to be heard."

Where to begin with my story? Despite writing a blog, a book (not yet published) and making videos, I am unsure of where to begin.

I have struggled with ongoing anxiety and depression for at least ten years and anorexia when I was 18 (now recovered) and self-harm. Eighteen months ago, during a time when I was really struggling with depression and suicidal thoughts and with the second year of university, my best friend took her own life. I was/am heart-broken, devastated and triggered by her death and it has been a massive struggle ever since. I am suspended from university for now due to mental health problems which intensified following my best friend's death. I now struggle with major depression, PTSD, PMDD, psychosis and complicated grief. I feel imprisoned by my grief. When my psychosis was bad, before I went on medication, I heard voices and became convinced those voices were giving me messages in code, trying to protect me from a conspiracy that I became convinced of, as though something was out to get me and nothing and nobody was safe. My psychosis was not only triggered by the stress of losing my best friend but also by another so-called 'friend' treating me in a way that was manipulative and cruel and had a massive impact in several ways.

Soon after my best friend's death, I spent weeks, maybe even months, trying to get funding to go to a trauma treatment centre in Scotland. I started a fundraiser and contacted several mental health charities and talk shows to ask if they would support it (few replied and each of them said no). The consultant I was under at the time upset me so much when she asked who the funding request would go to then laughed when I answered her. It was more of a cackle than a laugh and went on for some time. Considering I was sat with her only hours after I had taken an overdose and was trying my hardest to secure funding for the treatment I needed, her laughing at me was unprofessional and insensitive. I raised around £500 in the end which I am thankful for but it is nowhere near enough for the kind of treatment I was hoping for. I wrote to the people in charge of funding and made a request from the recovery team I am now under but they said no, that it was too expensive and that I should be able to be treated within the community.

I have taken overdoses and self-harmed so much over the last eighteen months and have repeatedly ended up in a state of crisis. The counsellor at university has phoned for an ambulance to take me from uni (when I have had a session with him) to hospital on several occasions. On one occasion, there was a misunderstanding and the police appeared and grabbed me by the arms as they checked whether or not I had something on me that could be used as a weapon to hurt myself or others. Being grabbed in such a way triggered painful memories. My counsellor was lovely, as always, and apologised that it had happened in that way and stayed with me, waiting for the paramedics to arrive. I cannot remember if it was on the same day the police came, but on one occasion, I walked away from my counsellor and said that he couldn't keep me there. I had the intention to run away from uni and hurt myself, maybe even end my life. My mum came after me and restrained me after he said to her that he was not allowed to do so. I cried so hard and said that it hurt and that I couldn't cope anymore and wanted to die. A lovely student liaison officer stroked my long hair as she stood with my mum who was holding onto me. Eventually, I agreed to go back and sit with my counsellor who was amazing; he sat next to me when the paramedic was talking to him on the phone so I could hear every word, a sign that he was hiding nothing from me, that I could trust him, that he was still a safe presence in my life. It is an indication of how distressed I am when I am trying to run away from him.

In April of this year, I tried to end my life and was hospitalised again. That particular hospital experience was awful. There were no beds available on the psychiatric ward so I was kept on the clinical decisions unit at A&E. Every day, I was hoping to be told a bed was available but I was there for a week. Mentally and emotionally, I was in a nightmare and spent a lot of my time crying. One day, my mum had gone to get me a few things and I put my trainers on and, still wearing my pyjamas, I walked out of the ward and before I knew it, I was walking along the corridor and out of the hospital with tears in my eyes. I couldn't believe how easy it had been for me to walk out despite the fact that the staff knew why I had been admitted and that I was a high risk. Once outside, I planned to just keep walking; I didn't know where I was going. My mind had wandered off somewhere and so I wandered off too with thoughts if hurting myself, totally out of control, but I reached a bench outside the hospital, sat down with my arms wrapped around my knees and wept. I must have been outside for at least fifteen minutes when my mum appeared, shocked to see me sitting there. My mum called for someone to come and help and they took hold of my arms and tried to lead me back inside. I tried to resist, crying out that I couldn't do this anymore, that I couldn't cope. When I was assessed by the raid team, it had not been documented that I had left the ward despite one member of staff saying that she had noticed me leave.

One of my mum's friends works in the kitchens in the hospital and she would come up to the ward every morning to see how I was doing. I would listen to her and my mum talking and she once said that I am 'so precious'. Something so 'small' as that was comforting to me, just a few kind, caring words.

After a week, a man from the raid team and a nurse came and told me I was being discharged. My mum and I protested that I was not safe to go home and I self harmed in front of them and cried so hard but they didn't care. I stood up and walked off again and the nurse came after me. I told her I wanted to find a car or a bridge. I didn't really mean it in that moment but it just came out; I was so devastated. Once outside, she said I was being 'ridiculous and childish' and was so rough with me. I needed my mum so I walked back to the ward and told my mum what the nurse had said but there was no apology or anything. The man from the raid team didn't say anything which I personally think was disgusting. The nurse was in such a rush to get me off the ward (I imagine they needed the bed) and started emptying the cupboard next to my bed. I said I wasn't safe, that I would do something if allowed home. My mum asked the nurse 'are you hearing what she is saying?' but the nurse just said yes but carried on anyway. Mum asked did I have no choice, no say in the matter? No, I didn't.

My mum refused to take me home so she took me to the medical centre and asked if my care coordinator was available. He appeared and I couldn't even look him in the eye; I was in such a suicidal and hopeless state that someone I trust was, in that moment, seen as the enemy. I remember noticing he had an orange shirt on. He advised we stay there for the night and be assessed in the morning. He told my mum to call the police if I ran. Sometime later, my name was called to go in and see someone and I ran out of the building, looking along the ground for something to self-harm with. My mum caught up with me, calling out that she would call the police, and held onto me as I cried out 'they hurt me so I have to hurt myself!' Once back inside, the receptionist said 'I don't know why she ran off'. No, you don't know, you clearly have no idea so do me a favour and keep quiet. I sat down and a lovely woman appeared and crouched down in front of me. I said 'I've had a horrible day' as I cried and she said 'I know' softly then asked how I would feel if they could get me a bed on the psychiatric ward for the night. I agreed to go.

By the time we got to the psychiatric hospital, it was very late and I was exhausted but so unsettled by everything. I was asked some questions by a nice woman/doctor then my bags were taken to be checked. I sat with my mum in the dining area and tried to nibble on some toast and drink some juice. Suddenly, an alarm went off which is a massive trigger for my psychosis and I totally freaked-out. My mum held onto me and told me it was ok but then they told her she had to leave. I sat back down in a bewildered state. A nice patient, around the same age as my mum, came and sat with me. She held my hand and asked what the scars on my arms were from. 'My best friend killed herself' I said as I wept. She was so kind with me. A little later, I was given my medication and went to my room, disappointed to realise that the bathroom didn't have a door, or rather it did but you couldn't close it. My mum had stayed with me all week at A&E following the first time I walked out, so I felt so alone as I stood in my room, just standing there for a few moments not knowing what to do with myself. I turned on the TV and left it playing quietly as I got into bed and soon fell asleep, exhausted.

The next day, I had no idea when breakfast was or what would be happening that day. I put on my dungarees and went to the dining area where a couple of patients were eating breakfast. It seemed to be an 'eat if/when you want' sort of approach. I am vegan but vegans are not exactly catered for in hospital. I nibbled on some dry toast and drank some orange juice. I struggle with social phobia and am naturally very shy so I didn't feel comfortable asking for the toast and only accepted when one of the patients and the staff member asked if I wanted any breakfast after a few minutes of me sitting there awkwardly. The nice woman from the medical centre the night before had said that this would be a 'bed for the night' so I assumed I would be going home but nobody really explained anything. When my mum came to visit, we met with the doctor. I explained about the PMDD and he was completely dismissive, saying that all women get hormonal during the time of the month and also dismissed the research I had printed off, purely because it was written by Harvard! If he looked into this condition and really listened to me, he would have realised it is much more severe than being 'a bit hormonal' and that it contributes to suicidal thoughts and depression.

I realised I had a big decision to make. Something about the hospital pulled me in and part of me wanted to stay because it felt protective but at the same time, the doctor dismissing one of my conditions made me think that perhaps I would be better off going home and requesting an appointment with a GP. So that was what I did. I hadn't been sectioned so I was able to leave. However, it was now bank holiday so after the weekend, I met with a GP who prescribed me the contraceptive pill. I have found it helpful for the most part but still suffer with the condition on top of everything else and am still waiting to hear about seeing a gynaecologist (something which a consultant said he would arrange weeks ago). Unless you push and keep pestering, you aren't given any information. I have also requested to see a different consultant but have not yet been able to get an appointment with him. They have told us that they offer emergency appointments but nobody has said why I cannot have one. What do you have to do to be considered an emergency? I have done my research and found one medication that is supposed to be effective for both PMDD and PTSD and have asked if I can change from one of my current meds (which I have had problems with from the start) to this one but...nothing...I haven't even received any acknowledgment of whether or not the consultant has read my letters. I have even considered taking matters into my own hands and changing my medication by myself.

I now see my care coordinator once a week. I really like then and they are one of the few who really understands the complex places my mind has gone to since my best friend died. I had an assessment to determine which form of therapy would be best for me but as I am not good in groups and have a good relationship with my care coordinator, the psychologist came up with the idea of my care coordinator sort of acting as my therapist under their supervision. When I am in a stable place, it works and he really does help me. However, I have felt let down when they have gone on leave and we only find out when my mum phones on the day of our usual appointment to check the time, only for them to tell us they are on leave this week that week. Unexpected changes have a massive impact on me which I have explained to them but it keeps happening anyway. they always says 'phone if you need to' but we can never get hold of them and  they rarely phone when they say they will.

I understand how my care coordinator is I don't want to sound ungrateful because they are such a nice person but such things do have an impact on me. Those who are detainable or make a lot of noise seem to be made the priority whilst people like me, who 'have capacity' and are quiet seem to be pushed aside. I realise they are so busy they need to prioritise but it sucks at times.

I am currently in a crisis. On Friday night, my mum phoned the assessment team and they told her to phone home treatment but home treatment said they couldn't do anything. So my mum phoned the NHS advice line and they advised she take me straight to the medical centre where the assessment team are but when we turned up, they said we should have made an appointment. This has been a regular thing, being passed back and forth. A man from the sanctuary saw me and he was nice enough but some of his comments were unhelpful. We went there around 8pm and around 1am, I was finally seen by the CPN who did a five minute assessment (if that) to determine if I was safe to go home. I was too exhausted to be anything else so I said yes. The CPN said home treatment would be in touch over the weekend but that didn't happen.

My distress and desperation reached a peak today. Not only am I self-harming more but I am experiencing intense urges to do something 'more severe' and tried to do so today. My mum was on the phone, begging the recovery team to do something to help me, and...I don't know if it is ok to give details here so let's just say I tried to hurt myself in a way that could have potentially done a lot of damage. My mum caught me and phoned for an ambulance. When the paramedics arrived, they managed to get hold of my care coordinator (how come when my mum phones and asks to speak to them they are never available but the moment a paramedic phones, they are suddenly there?) and she explained I feel desperate.  They replied with something along the lines of I don't know what more help she wants from us. I found this hurtful and was made to feel as though I am being ungrateful and a nuisance. I have been requesting a medication review for weeks and over the last few days, my mum has been trying to see if I can have an emergency appointment with a doctor and/or see a duty officer or someone before my session with my care coordinator on Friday. Is that too much to ask? I feel I need...something...I need stabilising but getting the recovery team to do anything is near impossible and takes a lot of energy. I write letters, I make requests but I never really seem to get anywhere. I am now at that point of thinking 'what is the point?' I also worry my care coordinator thinks I have been suicidal for 18 months and therefore it is even more difficult to get it across when I cross from having constant suicidal thoughts to being actively suicidal.

At A&E this afternoon, I was seen by a nice member of the raid team and the remembered me. We discussed how I am feeling and the pros and cons of being admitted to hospital. I am quiet and sensitive and although psychiatric hospitals do serve a purpose, I find it quite a triggering and unsettling environment to be in. We agreed I would try coming home and she said she will phone the recovery team first thing in the morning.

How do you stabilise when in this kind of crisis? Where do you turn? I hate that if this was something physical, I would be checked and assessed and offered all kinds of treatment options but when it comes to mental health, they seem to be so stretched for resources, money and staff that the mentally ill are suffering even more, not to mention the insensitivity of some individuals who need to learn some compassion and develop their understanding and awareness before they are allowed to be anywhere near the mentally vulnerable. I am so quiet that I often feel my distress goes unheard and that I have to prove just how serious I am about harming myself. It is a real struggle; I have more than enough to be dealing with in terms of losing my best friend and my mental health conditions without having to fight to be heard also.