When Black Becomes a Rainbow

 12 years ago I started a blog to detail my journey into 'recovery' from mental illness.  In the years I wrote on here I received so much support and love through these pages and I liked to think that I helped someone somewhere in the world to feel less alone. In 2016 I went through a horrendous trauma at the hands of my local NHS mental health Trust. I found it almost impossible to open up about this as it was the people who were meant to help me in crisis that lead me to such a distressing place. I went through a court case and had to speak in front of a judge and jury of the assault that happened to me. I lost my ability to speak out after that. I was scared, alone and afraid. I almost lost my life more than once after this. It may have been 8 years since the assault but I still relive the trauma I went through almost daily. Finding others who have been in similar situations has once again made me feel stronger in the fight to be heard - our experiences should not be for not

I was recently sent this picture by someone. At the time I was in hospital and in truth, it meant nothing to me other than flippancy. To me it made light of my suffering. I never asked for cracks; I never wanted a broken mind. I didn't want to be repaired,  I wanted to be perfect.  In all honesty, there have been many time in the past few years that I felt broken beyond repair. It's a scary feeling. However this Japanese idea of kintsikuroi hit me last night when I went to play a game of netball. I used to  really enjoy this sport and was at one time quite good.  However, due to lengthy hospital stays, rapid weight gain and lack of confidence, I dropped out of the game.  Last night I decided to go for it. It was a big step for me. However, I realised I was going to have to wear my short sleeve T-shirt (we play inside and it gets pretty warm!). But this would show my obvious 'cracks' - the places on my body that I have inflicted harm to myself when I have felt so

So, winter has come upon us once again; and I, like most people, find this time of year to be a difficult one due to the depressive darkness and cold. However, on the up side, I have recently  started to use the things in my life that keep me going on a daily basis to try help other people. For those not in the know, I am the mother of 16(!) little fluffy things. I have 11 guinea pigs, 3 hamsters and 2 degus . These guys keep me occupied most of my free time and to be honest, are the only things that can get me out of bed most mornings . Animals are amazing therapy when your'e feeling sad or low. They are so precious each in their own way and are thankfully more content with long silences and low eye contact than human beings seem to be! I mean how could you resist this face?! I have recently made the slightly mad decision to start taking them out and about on wheels (well, in a pram) to visit people who need cheering up. So far we have visited a Child and Adolescent Men

My toe is infected; it’s been an ongoing problem. I go to the GP and get referred to a specialist. The specialist decides to assess my toe. Apparently it will take some time to get to know the way my toe works and why it got infected. The specialist has a team who are meant to be helping out but one member of the team unfortunately breaks the other foot instead. ‘Let’s ignore the broken foot’ they say. We’ll continue to look at why the toe has got infected. We’ll continue to assess not treat.' The infection has spread by now to the whole foot. I now can’t walk. No treatment offered, no apology for the breaking of my foot. ‘We’ll keep assessing’ they say. One specialist leaves and another takes his place. ‘Well of course we have to start the assessment again - we don’t really know what the other specialist did in the 9 months he saw you, so we’ll start again. We’ll still ignore the broken foot and leave you to deal with that yourself.’ Another professional from a differen

Depression is a living nightmare Anxiety is horrendous PTSD is pain beyond anything imaginable.  Having ASD makes life generally difficult in so many ways.  Losing a pet is soul destroying. Feeling like you have ruined your family is guilt that can never go away. But you know what's important? The visitors who have come, the messages I have received. The family members who treck a way to get here to visit.  The staff on the ward here have been unbelievable. I feel so so lucky to be on this ward and have the support I have. The psychiatrist i am under here is a trustee of the local farm and part of my care plan is to go there and see the piggies and small furries.  Although things are beyond difficult in terms of the suicidal voices in my head, I feel like there may be a little bit of hope somewhere.  Thank you to each and everyone of you who has been there for me. It means the world ❤️

"It feels like one long nightmare; like being held under water, unable to catch a breath. It seems endless, ceaseless, incessant. The pain surpasses any other pain I have ever felt. There is a mixture of hatred, anger and guilt. Fear, hopelessness, helplessness. There are unanswered questions, confusing emotions. There is disorder and turmoil within, chaotic and out of control. And the worst part? That I can’t share it. Who can I tell? Who can understand? It didn’t just happen overnight. It happened gradually over the four weeks I was there. I had no idea what was taking place until it was too late. Too late to pretend nothing had happened. I would do anything to go back in time and erase those four weeks from my life. I have tried to obliterate it, but to no avail. It won’t budge. It stays with me as long as I live. And to be quite honest, that terrifies me. For I have seen in the past few months that I am unable to survive with it inside of me" ----------

Just over 3 years ago I wrote a blog post about my experiences on a psych ward. I wrote about the more positive aspects of being in hospital, the support I received and just generally making light of my time spent on the ward. I do that. I try to make light of things. I just want everyone around me to be happy; and my way of managing this and controlling this is by showing that all is going well. But today I am not sugar coating. Psych wards are not fun.  There are very few positives that can come from being in one, and my experiences last year are ones I would not wish on anyone. I can't and won't go into detail, however it is safe to say that I am scarred. I trusted when I shouldn't have done and the consequences of this lead to 6 months in 9 different wards and some shocking 'care' in the hand of the NHS. Last year I lost my job, the majority of my friends and a large part of myself. I lost confidence in myself and most of society. I still have flashbacks f