In October 2003 after having been told face to face by a Psychologist I would have to wait three and a half years to be helped with some of my problems, unspecified, I was in a state of shock. I felt my life was pointless and worthless. To add to this, I was in a very bad Housing situation, I was in constant distress. Regardless of my positive community activity, without which, I would have been long gone. No health Professional seemed to grasp the seriousness of my situation. I had no one to turn to that could help me. Yet it had already been noted that I had suicidal feelings, which I had confirmed in my Assessment Forms. Now, please read on if you are able too...
- March 2004, the Police snatched me from certain death, as I was about to jump of a bridge, sent home by the N.H.S.
- May 2004, after getting bad news, I walked into a police Station, screaming and pulling my hair out. Sent home by the N.H.S.
- Early December 2004 Police took me to Hospital, in extreme distress. Again the N.H.S. sent me home.
- Six days later, I was on the bridge yet again, the police snatched me to safety. The N.H.S. sent me home.
- The day after Boxing Day 2004 the Police took me to Hospital, this time they keep me in for 2 nights. Well done the N.H.S! But left me with no ongoing support. Not good, bad.
- There were other times I tried to end it, such as trying to jump off a multi storey car park.
- In May 2005, one Sunday morning, I had my neck over a train line and was only seconds from death. I had picked my spot the night before. Luckily, the driver startled me and I ran away.
I do hope these revelations are not too upsetting to anyone, but it’s necessary to let you know just how ill I was, whilst being made to wait so long to see a Psychologist.
(In actuality, the Therapy had already failed, before it had started!)
Although I had no faith in the Psychologist, such was my need for help and diagnosis, I found an Advocate to write a letter on my behalf to the relevant people, outlining my suicidal attempts and need for a diagnosis of some sort, along with my need for on going support. I did manage to see a Psychiatrist but only every 3 months, which was not going to solve my problems. I needed urgent intervention by people with knowledge of Trauma.
Several months on, the day after Boxing Day, I received a letter with more assessment forms to fill in. Just how insensitive can they be? Here I was, all alone for a number of weeks over the Christmas period, totally isolated and I get yet more forms to detail all my problems Having to fill these forms in at such a time is most distressing indeed. I was crying non-stop for several hours whilst filling out these forms, with information they already had! I just don’t know how I survived that period.
What made things even worse, the forms did not go to the Psychologist but to a Psychotherapist, who gave me an appointment in February 2006. This Appointment was not to give me therapy but only to assess me for therapy. Just what does it take for them to listen? This appointment did not go well. I was deeply hurt, having had waited so long for treatment. Then having to wait in hope, for an appointment for real.
Finally end of April, I get an appointment with the original Psychologist, but by this time all I wanted was a diagnosis, that I should have been given many years earlier. I had lost all faith by now in the System. But surely, to get a proper diagnosis, I would have to detail all my traumas. How else could I be diagnosed?
Well…the day of reckoning came along. I was ushered into the same room by the Psychologist and very quickly and firmly informed that they do things differently now. I was not allowed to talk about my past but to concentrate on the here and now doing tasks such as, going to Pub’s and Cafe’s, to communicate with people etc. Things I have been doing for many years. Just how was this supposed to cure me of a lifetime of trauma? I was doing this anyway! How was I to get a proper diagnosis? I was to get 15 sessions and no more. Sessions where I had to let her know how well I was communicating with people in Pub’s. She did not impress me with her many years of expertise and I was not going to be so pushed around. Over the next four sessions, I tried her meaningless tasks but each time I pushed her in to listening to my past experiences. This was a battle of minds with her, she did not like it but I was so desperate for a diagnosis, I could not help myself in revealing my traumas, as best I could. Finally at the end of the 4th sessions she said, its o.k. Soldiers have it, building workers have it and it’s called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I cried and I cried. And yes, this ex soldier, building worker and adult male cries a lot, and very publicly too. Men also, no matter how tough we think we are, still have feelings and emotions and I for one am not ashamed. But if we have no one to share our feelings with they will just get worse. And if you have unresolved childhood trauma, leading to even more trauma in later life and you don’t get the appropriate help, is it any wonder people such as myself will end up, screaming in the streets for help?
I do hope by now you all will realise just why I have felt the need to share my story. And please, those who have similar issues, please, if you feel you need help in any way, don’t be afraid to ask for it, there is so much help available from people who understand. You are not alone with your troubles.
And to you Health professionals, if you have not got the time or expertise to treat people, then just signpost people to those who can help. Don’t encourage them to go to the pub, when they are so troubled. Life is too precious.
With care.
©Paul Davidson 2008