The Challenges We Face.

You know a therapist/psychologist has been doing there job for quite some time when they start challenging your thoughts. Despite how much it hurts to hear such bluntness. For example 'Why haven't you killed yourself yet?' It's something worth thinking about, but even I don't know the answer to that. I leave my attempts to chance, and sometimes I pre-plan them, so I can do everything I need to do, for example, tidy my room, write up a note, you know; the usual things before any suicide attempt.

I've tried on several occasions, many times I've remained in hospital stuck to a drip for two days, others, I haven't told anyone about. I could go on telling you guys all about my attempts, but what would that point in that be? It would leave me to over thinking, wondering what it is with every attempt that is keeping me from failing. Maybe I'm not trying hard enough? Taking enough pills? Or maybe 'gods' just decided it's not my time just yet.

My last attempt (in which I told someone about), left me under Section 2 of the mental health act 1983. This wasn't the first time I'd been on section however, I had previously also been placed under a 136, which is where they had taken me to a safe environment as they thought I was at risk to myself. I can't remember much of that night however, it was during a friends birthday, I probably ruined the whole night for her, gosh knows why she came to see me in hospital that night. I didn't deserve any form of kindness. I was on constant watch by two police officers at all times, while they waited to find me a bed in a 136 suite. The police can use section 136 of the Mental Health Act to take you to a place of safety when you are in a public place. They can do this if they think you have a mental illness and are in need of care.

It didn't feel like 'care' however, I was left on a hospital bed with hand cuffs and at times restrained. It felt like abuse. A place of safety while under section 136 can be a hospital, or a police station, I guess I was lucky that I was taken to a hospital until they found be a spare room in a 136 suite, rather than the police station. As they assumed I had something wrong with me, I don't know what gave them that idea. They found I had high lactate levels, and acid in my blood, acid you'd only find in an unconscious person.

An individual can be kept under this section for 72 hours (Three days) During this time, mental health professionals can arrange a Mental Health Act assessment for you. This will look at if you
need to be in hospital because of your mental health or not. After being assessed, you might be sectioned using the Mental Health Act, or nothing further might happen and you could be free
to leave. I guess you could say I was lucky, I was free to leave. With the thought of getting support put in place. It didn't happen soon enough though.

I planned on attempting late January, however, I ended up going into hospital on the 4th after a serious over dose on a variety of pain killers, including paracetamol, which left untreated could have killed me. My response to that was obviously that's what I wanted, that was the initial plan when attempting. It left me in agony to the point I was puking blood. But the pain felt wonderful. I was left in hospital for two days, and always had two people with me. (Just encase I decided to do something else, or make a runner). After being in hospital, I was later taken to a private psych hospital in Darlington, which was two hours from York (Where I'm currently living whilst studying) but four hours away from my home, home.

Despite it being 4 hours away from home, as it was private, and not linked with the NHS, we had TV's in our rooms, double beds, that were actually comfy, and the TV didn't need to be hidden behind a box, and the remote control was always at hand, and we didn't have a curfew it had that homely environment. That's not me saying Psych hospitals are lovely to be in, I was on constant supervision, as I was seen at being a risk to myself, I couldn't even go to the shower alone, or go for a pee alone.

Which made things rather difficult, and embarrassing, I could never shower properly, and avoided going to the washroom unless I was desperate, but I became close to the people around me, even though I got along with the males more than I did with the females, I guess it was an advantage to being the youngest on the ward. However, on several occasions I was restrained. They often locked my room so I couldn't get into it, as I was seen as being a risk to myself, so I had to stay downstairs, the didn't stop me from being reckless. Harming myself, putting others in danger, etc.

I was told I had emotionally unstable personality disorder (Borderline personality disorder).

I was later removed to a hospital closer to home, a lot closer!! My parents visited me almost everyday, and the thought of then visiting me overwhelmed me, and stressed me out. I once hid a fork just so I didn't have to see them. They didn't really help much, they often left me feeling guilty, and shed me with negative light.

As I was the only female on the ward, so I was left on 1-2-1 watch, I was used to it by now. As this hospital was run by the NHS, We had no control over heating, we didn't have much in our rooms, it was a lot worst than a general NHS hospital, and you know when you watch those horror movies left in a Psych hospital, it felt like that. The remote control was left in the office, and the TV was behind a wooden screen so nobody could break it. And the there was hardly any color, anywhere, we were trapped inside a building. We couldn't even go out for a fag, let alone do anything else. It was the Picu ward, (Psychiatric intensive care unit) - This is where the more dangerous people would go, I was placed on this unit, as they thought I had a blade on me. (Which I did).

They only found the blade after tearing my room apart, and strip searching me, they threatened to keep me in my PJ's unless I handed the blade over, and despite being strip searched, they still never managed to get it, I chose to hand it in, in the end, as I didn't want to walk around in my PJ's all day now, did I??! It was absolutely freezing. I was removed to a room with no en-suite bathroom, and was pretty much 4 walls in a almost perfectly square room, I wasn't aloud to keep anything in that room, not even my own cloths, like other patients were. All there was, was a mattress. with a few sheets on.

Throughout this blog, I am going to write up entries in my journal that I had written while in hospital, so keep reading #LifeUnderSectionTwo  as well as other things, and also aspects of University too.