As a self appointed mental health advocate, I have been fortunate enough to be approached by the BBC a few times throughout my crazy journey of ill mental health and my latest opportunity was being able to share parts of my story via the BBC Radio4 and Made In Manchester documentary, “Black Girls Don’t Cry”. Due to resounding success, it is available once more. It airs January 3rd at 8pm BBC Radio4 but is also currently available on iPlayer. Simply Google, “Black Girls Don’t Cry” or https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b0b9zfws and you shall be able to hear two other brave black ladies as well as myself, share our stories of ill mental health. Catch it while you can. It really gives great food for thought.
For the blaggers,
The false friends,
And fake lovers!
All of my Cysober sister’s and brother’s.
The people that, “like” without opening your post.
The people that comment without reading your post.
The Internet bragging,
The bitchy comments,
The hott list,
The not list,
The group chats,
The pestering (guilty as charged),
The over sharing,
The friend requests,
The stranger requests,
Not messaging back,
The friend count,
The like count,
The video watched count.
The chain messages,
The people from your past,
The numbers mean nothing,
The live video’streaming, mantras and selfies a facade!
In this instance my intentions are genuine,
I am here,
I am asking for your help!?…
The majority of you will not read this,
The rest won’t know what I am talking about,
Because this isn’t about fashion or reality TV,
Perhaps it should be…
But this is an opportunity to make positive change for charity!
Please donate/share/help me,
Listen to Cyscober by noone adiaryfromnoone #np on #SoundCloud
A lovely someone sent me a link about the best way to support someone with BPD. It revolved around validating the individuals feelings, emotions, actions and reactions. It encouraged patience and empathy. As someone with BPD, my world is very isolated, as it is for most people with secondary level mental health problems, which is exactly why I selflessly write poetry and document my thoughts and experiences via my blogs, to engage, validate and show empathy towards the many people out there suffering and that feel alone.
I feel depressed, teary, stuck, lost, insignificant, frustrated, isolated, misunderstood, a burden, worthless and helpless every single day. I am self destructive, self harm is my biggest problem and suicidal thoughts linger around me constantly. I worry that if I communicate and reveal this to the professionals, they may admit me into hospital, which has kept happening once or twice a year since 2013. From my experience, mental health professional’s believe acute ward’s are not the answer for someone with BPD, which I believe to be an inaccurate theory as they cannot tarnish us all with the same brush. It just cannot be so black and white! If I am at risk to myself, of cause a safe place such as a hospital with twenty-four hour care is the best place to be. The only alternative is daily half hour visits which rapidly decrease and then you end up seeing a community psychiatric nurse every fortnight. There seems to be nothing in-between, no happy medium. If I tell my loved one’s, I worry them, upset them, confuse them and somewhat push them away as they are not equipped to take on the heavy load of problems that I undergo. I personally find helplines’ pointless. The NHS home treatment crisis line is always busy, inundated with many fellow sick people reaching for help. The longest call back time that I have experienced to date, was three whole hours. In that time the damage I feared had already been done.
They say that the best remedy for my personal mental health problems are medication (which I do take religiously)and agree that they help, and therapy. DBT (Dialectal Behavioural Therapy) was designed for people with BPD. Unfortunately it is very hard to come by. To my knowledge, in the city that I live in, you can only get DBT if you opt for private care. Unfortunately I am not lucky enough to be able to afford private care, and so I am stuck in this unhealthy merry-go round of ups, downs, highs and lows, my life hindered by anxiety, depression, psychosis, emotional instability, feeling trapped and misunderstood.
Despite feeling let down by many mental health professionals and the NHS care provided, I don’t want to live the rest of my life the way that I have been these past three years. Therapy has been suggested as a method of care. I had a therapist who performed psycho-dynamic therapy upon me for almost twelve months, first once a week and then twice a week. Unfortunately she suddenly passed away. I was then reluctantly catapulted into a group therapy where I was deeply misunderstood, it made me feel helpless and lead to some serious self destruction. I was then asked to not return, rejected and abandoned once again. This was over a year ago. I believed that I was on some kind of waiting list, I didn’t push or pursue the matter as my experiences were so sad, so bad, so detrimental towards alot of my relapse’s, I was in no hurry to try it all again.
Following my last relapse and hospital admission in May 2016, I came to discover that I had been taken off the waiting list. There has been alot of inconsistent information thrown my way since my discovery, confusion about where I may have my therapy, what therapy, do I even need therapy? The issue is still to be resolved, but if I hadn’t had my relapse, I would have still been silently waiting for contact that inevitably was never going to come!
I have always been very adamant about having individual therapy from a female therapists. I had an assessment two weeks ago, with not one but two male therapists in a rather small room. I felt judged and anxious. I have no recollection of what I said within the one hour and a half appointment but I felt uneasy and like I had failed. It felt like I had just talked my way out of a job. I felt that my intelligence, past success and vocabulary made them analyse me quite intensely and it did not go in my favour. I hope that they remember that ones achievements do not counter their mentality.
I am now anxiously waiting upon some kind of answer or report. I asked them to watch my, “BPD” vlog on my YouTube channel because what I said and how I felt whilst filming that at 4am at my parents house for sanctuary, most likely describes me better then I did in that tiny room with two male strangers. My fate is in their hands, I shall report all as soon as I am informed. Please see my BPD vlog below and watch it and share it, if you may?