#because doctors did not help and the nhs's mental health system is a mess <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[feline-evil]

It wasn't funny at the time but looking back on it man it is genuinely hilarious how my first attempt at getting diagnosed and getting help with my mental illnessess went.

So imagine if you will the skinniest, most unwell, sleepless looking 18 year old, just real Victorian orphan vibes with permanent shakes and a penchant for passing out in fear if he so much as thinks of leaving the house. I need you to know that's the kind of state i was in when i walked into a doctors office to see one of the oldest men i've ever seen in an employed field. He sits me down and asks me what's wrong, he's the GP at my local doctors; that's a general practitioner, if you're outside of the UK maybe that's not a familiar term. Anyway he's not a psychologist, you don't get to see a psychologist unless your GP refers you! Anyway he asks me whats wrong and i explain to him my long list of debilitating anxiety symptoms, i tell him about not being able to eat or sleep or leave the house; i'm in a bad way at this point in my life, it's not a good time for young jay! Lad doesn't even know he's a man yet! Pretty bad time all round!

And so after i explain to him the situation we get our first of the many funny 'i'm not sure this man is qualified to have this conversation' red flags.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Uh oh.

Well no, sir, on account of the not leaving the house socialisation has been tricky, see?

"Oh you need a boyfriend and some friends, that'll help love :)"

Uh oh.

It is at this point in the appointment we are winding down towards the end of my time here at the doctors, and our next big ol' waving red flag hits like a jet liner. And this ones the big one, the one that gives me reason to tell this story and watch people look a mite aghast.

The GP laughs, claps a hand on my shoulder and says "well don't you worry, we won't be locking you up for this one!"

I freeze in shock.

What did this man just say.

Now, i don't wish to imply that this wouldn't be a horrifying thing to say to a different teen riddled with severe mental illness who didn't have a family history of relatives being admitted to psychiatric institutes, but i am suggesting that MAYHAPS. JUST POTENTIALLY. That was a slightly more horrifying sentence to come out of a medical professionals mouth to someone who has that as a family history in his own living memory! So i lock up in horror, alarms blaring in my mind, wondering how the fuck i'm going to politely and finitely end this conversation and meeting and leave vowing never to cross this mans path again in my life; but i don't get much time to ponder what to do, because here comes the final red flag, that second jet liner crashing right in, the final can of petrol being poured on the burning wreck that is the first appointment i have ever made to talk about my mental health.

This man, a complete stranger, i had never met this GP before in my life, hugs me. It is so uncomfortable, i would not say i am the most comfortable with physical contact from strangers even now nearly ten years later, but then? At age eighteen? This is just about the worst thing that could've happened in my eyes! I do not come from a family that hugs, i didn't not know how to hug back then, in that moment it's awkward and weird and i just freeze and wait for it to end, and then i leave the room with the GP beaming and waving after me like he's just performed a miracle and i'll forever be cured from this point on.

I walk to my mom waiting for me in the waiting room, she smiles and gives me a thumbs up.

GENUINELY it couldn't have gone worse, objectively the funniest awful situation i have ever been in.

[nahalism]

did you ever need to take sth like antidepressants for anxiety or panick attacks? I recall you speakin about having dealth with them in the past & been wonderin if you ever tried medicating urself for it / would consider it if your nerves were getting too much 4 u at some point down the line or did you develop ur own way around those little&big pits of hell

xX

heyyyyy <3 (this will b long but this question deserves a thorough answer so hope thats ok)

ive been strongly encouraged to take various medications over the years, particularly for anxiety/mood stabilisation, and twoish weeks ago i ended up in hospital cause literally i lost my mind, and i felt so out of it that thats the first time i ever considered not just wanting, but needing medication in order to function. however, i didnt, cause i dont like making decisions in the moment (desperation leads to desperate decisions) and because before that experience and even during it, ive never felt convinced that medication was the solution to the problems i was facing. 1) due to the physical, mental and emotional side effects. & 2) because im not convinced the people prescribing the meds even know what is 'wrong' with me.— a lot of that has to do with the nhs being a mess, (its quicker to get meds than wait thru the referral time to get diagnosed & into therapy) but also, theres a lot of comorbidity in the diagnosis ive been given, so there are multiple things to treat & in their eye's medication gives a faster result than unpacking all of that individually. the recommendation was to put me on a cocktail of drugs that can fuck up my liver kidneys and endocrine system to 'see if it will work' .. :/.

the only thing that has ever worked for me is sitting with myself and my emotions, acknowledging them, doing things at my pace in my time, and structuring my life in a way that is tailored for me and my success rather than being successful in the world or in a socially accepted way. that means having a morning routine that caters to my mental emotional and physical health, (mindful practices, yoga, gardening, sound work etcetc), and finding ways to continue that throughout the day (working creatively and limiting my exposure to people or situations that are not for me/overstimulate me).

that being said, this routine (which is still being refined and altered) works pretty well for me, but comes with sacrifices and isnt fool proof. symptoms of my mental illness still persist & without being medicated people are less lenient when helping someone they feel isnt 'helping themselves', im also still working on how to be as sociable as id like to be, and often my spirals are triggered by the very system i have in place to help me. i often face feeling like a let down, like im lazy, like im a weirdo/recluse, like im incapable of being a normal person etc etc. for example, a lot of the friends i graduated with have experienced crazy growth in their careers and have a sense of social and financial security that i dont have because they can function year round, whereas i have months at a time where i dont feel myself and have to disappear in order to keep sanity and peace in my being, lol. that, and the fact that it takes me a lot of base maintenance and effort to function as a normal person makes me feel like shit if i let it, so i constantly have to remind myself on top of the work i do daily, that whilst there are things others have/experience, that i dont, the inverse is also true, and theres beauty to me being me in my way. and .. yeah 🤷🏽‍♀️. that part is hard. but its also worth it to me and has taught me a lot

all that being said, do your own research and decide what feels right and what is best for YOU. speak to your doctors, therapists, and friends who may be medicated, or look on forums online for perspectives from both sides. [*if anyone reading this has a helpful opinion 2 offer pls comment]. the feeling of helplessness when your in the throws of whatever mental illness you suffer from can be debilitating and if taking a pill everyday or when you need it can fix that, no ones opinion should sway you from doing what you need to do to function. some of my friends who are medicated swear by medication!! (particularly when it comes to adhd meds) cause not being able to process thoughts and function is horrible and ruins lives needlessly.

so yh.. i hope this helps. as long as you do whats best for you, i have no doubt you will find your way through this and that it will be worth it. above all, know that the power of your will, your mind, and your person, is what makes you special, and so even if it takes more for you to show up than it does others, that's absolutely fine. take your time with it, and know what nothing is wasted, because you have no idea the good that can come from working out the details. most of the advice i have to offer comes from making it thru an existential crisis or bout of depression. <3

blessings 2 u love

[beautifuldarkmind]

tw // s*lf harm, su*cidal ideation (sorry)

Hey, it’s the creepy NHS anon here.

Thank you for responding to my ask! I’m sorry you had such a rough time getting a diagnosis. You shouldn’t have had to go through all of that. Honestly it sucks that the NHS is so reluctant to diagnose anything mental health related.

When I was 14 I thought I had depression and anxiety. I finally convinced my mum to take me to the doctors when I was 16. The doctor was super nice. She tested my thyroid function just to make sure nothing else was causing my feelings, then referred me to CAMHS. That was…an interesting experience. I remember asking my counsellor to diagnose me, but then at the next session she said she couldn’t, that it “wouldn’t be helpful” because I was still growing. Now that I think about it, one of the days I was at school and during a class I was furious for some reason. I even said to a classmate that I was willing to fight anyone who got in my way. Despite my mum disagreeing with me, I cancelled my appointment that day. (My mum was worried they’d stop my sessions all together if I cancelled, but they didn’t.)

Fast toward to recent years and I’ve been on and off attempting to get a diagnosis. Last year (so when I was about 18) I asked to be referred to the autism clinic, and thankfully the GP accepted, but the clinic is still closed and even when it’s open I’ll still have to wait, possibly several years. Then I made another appointment (different GP) to be referred to a psychiatrist. She refused, saying that GPs are trained to deal with mental health issues. I brought up OCD, so she asked where I got my information from. When I told her I researched it online, she just brushed it off and then did the typical depression/anxiety test and she said both were severe, then said “take some drugs” (which is didn’t because I didn’t trust taking drugs prescribed by someone who did a 3 minute yes/no type quiz without actually fully exploring my issues).

I spoke to a different GP just over a month ago to get a fit note for my Universal Credit. It was supposed to just be to make adjustments to what I was supposed to do, but he didn’t ask what the note was for, so he marked unfit for work. Which is great because that’s secretly what I wanted but feared being judged by people around me for thinking I needed that (particularly my parents). I mentioned that I thought I could have OCD and CPTSD, and he didn’t deny it but he simply said CBT helps for both. He then asked if I was currently doing CBT and I said I’d done it before but I quit. (That’s a whole other story but tldr I really don’t think it was for me, or at least the “therapist” wasn’t.) He said he would send a self referral link.

Fast forward to a few days ago and I had another appointment with him to discuss my fit note (because it only lasts for a month and you have to go back to renew it, which sucks). He asked if I had referred myself to CBT and I said I hadn’t yet because I didn’t want to, and he said “please do that for me” in a somewhat stern voice. I then brought up BPD and I think he said he would refer me? Honestly I was a bit overwhelmed because he called 40 mins early and I was in the car with my dad, so I was super weary of him asking questions about what I was saying to the doctor (but he didn’t). He then brought up PD support groups, which I’m considering doing, but you have to call up the place and I literally hate phone calls. Oh, speaking of which, all the appointments from the autism one onwards were all on the phone, so not only was I struggling to process what they were saying to me most of the time, but I was also so anxious that I couldn’t articulate my feelings properly. :)

Anyways, I am 20 now, which I only mention because I feel the same as what you mentioned. My brother is married, my childhood crush is married, my friend who I introduced to my friend group who then proceeded to discard me is getting married. Everyone seems to know exactly what they’re doing. They all have friends. But not me. I haven’t had friends since I was 14, and even then I don’t think that friend group was entirely wholesome. They made me feel like an outcast, like I was weird, that I needed to be more like them and not be like me. Which has probably contributed to me having a very vague sense of identity. And I feel like I’m still 14 and yet everyone is expecting me to behave like an adult. I’m supposed to know what I’m doing with my life even tho I literally cried in the shop when I was pressured to choose between 2 pizzas.

I have no support system. My own parents seem very dismissive of my problems, equating everything to social anxiety. When I’m stressed out of mind to the point of feeling suicidal, my parents say “that’s just life”, which…well, feeds into the feelings. For years I’ve felt stressed. Then if I’m not stressed I feel absolutely nothing. And if I’m not feeling empty I am angry, sometimes for no reason. And if I’m not angry, I am curled in a ball trying to bottle up the urge to self harm and batting away suicidal thoughts.

It’s like I have a huge chain pulling me down underwater and everyone else is in the beach drinking cocktails or something. Sometimes I thrash and try to get people to notice, but people think I’m just having fun. Other days I just feel like letting the chain pull me down.

Please forgive me for rambling and probably not having a very consistent train of thought in this post. I have a tendency to blab on about my “problems” (if they even are that), I guess as a way to connect? Idk. This post makes no sense.

I hope you’re having a good day. <3

- 🌸✨ (in case I send another ask again, but I’ll try not to because I don’t wanna bother you)

So sorry you're going through something similar. My GP sounded exactly how yours was, the typical anxiety/depression test and then just throwing those at you.. they dont seem to be trained in diagnosing and they dont want to hear anything more either. It's honestly almost impossible getting a diagnosis through them, the system here is really messed up... its just disappointing and seems to be failing so many people including you.

It does sound like you're going through a hard time, it's not nice especially when you feel a loss of self identity, you dont even know who you are and just feel lost in life. I think that was definitely the main point of realising something was up.. I had a VERY distorted view of myself and others around me and that was why I'd often self sabotage everything and then I'd feel so empty and angry at the world and just explode...

If you can go privately then do so, therapists are not able to diagnose and they will usually tell you 'we don't like to label' but even without a diagnosis you can still see if you can access DBT therapy. Amazon also has lots of DBT workbooks that I've used and its helped me to really understand myself!

If you often feel invalidated by your parents then that is known to cause BPD or borderline traits, especially if you've been suffering with mental illness in childhood and they tried to claim that it was nothing....you mentioned anxiety and I was told the approach my parents may have took to my severe anxiety is what brought on many of my symptoms of BPD. You start to feel ashamed of yourself for feeling that way because your caregivers make it seem like the issue isnt important and you feel as if your feelings dont matter also because that is how you have been made to feel.

I'm not saying this is definitely the cause but in my case I was told that the constant feeling of invalidation may be why I have such a warped idea of myself and why I cannot regulate my emotions. I was never told HOW to regulate or shown how to, just told to ignore my emotions and now I dont know how to deal with them😀

but yeah I'd really recommend taking a look at some of those dbt books online or reading more into it so you have a better understanding of yourself. You've already taken the first step and that's identifying that something may be wrong so you are self aware and clearly want to change for the better 💕

I hope everything works out for you, it's not nice feeling this way but you've got this 🥺🙌

[undiagnosedmentalhealthvibes]

I currently have one of those bad numb headaches...

Probably due to:

Stress

Meltdown

Lack of water

Too much of something I've eaten (sweets probably)

Lack of sleep

More stress

It also doesn't help that I have constant craving for sweets and chocolate. And the fact that I'm staying up past midnight to play the new Among Us map with an American streamer whom I'm a Discord mod for.

Oh and probably also the fact that I'm very close to talking with a doctor about the mess inside my head but I keep forgetting to call them. I need to get more medicine for my period (powerful painkillers = need doctor to say can have again) before college ends so I can get them on NHS budget. I want to use that as a starting point for the dominos to fall into place. I ask for new pain killers and about mental health check too... Hopefully it'll work. I'm still scared about my parents response. Actually I'm petrified and on the verge of tears just thinking about it. The crying part doesn't help my headache right now... >- >

Insomnia is a bitch this week. At least I can now track my sleep with a smart watch father used to have which is now mine *evil laugh*. I still don't want to part with my old watch so it's now being used as a weight for my sunflower lanyard so it doesn't all come out and my poor firefighter wipe against the floor.

I had a coughing fit last night and it kept me awake for at least 20minutes. The blame is currently on hayfever... Fek I forgot to take my tablets. I'll do that in a moment. I'll likely forget them again after this lol.

I'm on the verge of spilling everything to college. Everything mental health and stuff at home. But the alarms are saying that it's a bad idea. So probably just the money help. Apparently we're spending more than father's earning so that's bad. I blame mother for that. All those baby toys. But father did get new trainers recently. And I'm eyeing a £70 build-a-bear Fox... That I want to get after I leave college.

Recently, I've applied to deliver-roo. They have too many riders and can't give me a job just yet. Which is sad. And everywhere else I've applied to for a job said no. But at least one company said they liked me but as there was someone more experienced they chose them but would keep my details for another position as they've had that situation before with someone with similar CV as me. Which made me happy. Also, fuck the job system before and after COVID. I only have work experience I don't have job experience. I have the basic experience one has and y'all looking for more experienced people at a base paid job. I know I suck at interview and that's mainly because I don't like situations like that and I look like a deer in the headlights half the time. But at least I have some interview experience under my belt so I'm kind comfortable with it... Ish.

The gender dysphoria is back. That sums up a lot. I found a "charity" on TicTock that gives free binders n stuff to closeted beings for free in discreet packaging but with nosy parents I don't think it's possible. I just have to be satisfied with sports bras for now... Saying that, they're more comfortable than the others. Mother wants me to be in the others. Female side agreed with one version of the other. Male side said fiiiiiiiiinnnneee. And currently Male side is prominent even with long ish hair. Did I say I don't like gender dysphoria? At least one figured out that I'm Bi. 😂 Bi, Demi, and genderfluid. And lonely. Thank you hormones and lack of serotonin. :3

Last but not least on this vent of the last week and a bit of this half term holiday, ... I just had the freaking sentence I was about to say in my head whilst typ--

A big spider was in my room. Big for my standards. So my point is completely gone. G'Night 💚

[gaiatheorist]

Choices, behaviours, consequences.

The latest stop on my voyage around the NHS Mental Health service has wiped me out. I’ve dumped myself into one of my self-judgemental phases, and I need to haul myself out, because it’s making me physically ill, when I’m already emotionally fragile. I don’t have the capacity to deal with both-at-once, on top of all the pre-existing conditions. I’m allowing myself one rabbit-hole, then I’ll either ‘post’ or ‘close.’

Choice- I have the choice to ruminate in fragmented snatches about the therapeutic pathway I’m being allocated onto, or purge it all in one go, and ‘close the box’.

Behaviours- I’ve had a couple of days (my concept of day/night is as skewed as everything else) of having intrusive snatches of “That’s not MY fault!” and “That’s a useful behaviour, I want to keep that bit.” It’s not productive, but ‘blocking’ emotional responses is what I need to work on. (Badly phrased, I need to work on stopping-blocking, and learn to do the whole ‘mindful/in the moment’ thing. I can’t do that on my own, that’s what the therapy is going to teach me to do.) 

Consequences- A fair old chunk of self-loathing, and a few spikes of “I’m not changing THAT!” I’ll ‘make this worse before I make it better’ by typing this, but, for now, rules/routine are my least-harmful coping strategy. My pretend-rule of ��once I type it, it is done’ might well be a strategy the therapist advises, or not, the old ‘diarising/mood-journal’ thing, for now, it’s all I have.

The choices/behaviour/consequence tag is borrowed from a behaviour policy implemented at the school I used to work in. “If you choose to continue with behaviour ‘x’, you are choosing consequence ‘y’.” Logical, linear, rational, which worked with the students who understood the concept, but not the students who didn’t feel that their behaviour was a choice. That’s where I find myself, like a twelve-year-old having a screaming meltdown in a maths class because everything-is-awful, and now there’s algebra in it as well. 

That’s a difficult admission. When I’m focused on something, it doesn’t happen, when my mind is engaged, there’s less capacity for the disjointed thinking, and disordered behaviours. When I’m ‘in the zone’ I can be phenomenal, I haven’t had a zone of late. I’ve had two years of drifting, ironically, having ‘won’ my disability benefit, and now having the capacity to address my physical and emotional health is in-part responsible for the drift. 17 months of that two years were spent engaged in a battle with DWP. Pyrrhic victory? Possibly, I’ll need to do it all again in nine months. I’ll still have brain injuries, but I might have had some therapy for the Mental Health side of things. (Externalising, raging against the machine, there. The systems are atrocious, though.) This distracted-drifting phase isn’t good for me, and there’s only so much of it I can fill with free OU courses. 

There are two prongs to that difficult admission. I ‘caught myself’ showing off yesterday, that’s one of my behaviours. I was plodding through an OU course on juvenile delinquency, and my notes for section 3.3 turned out to be a more condensed version of section 3.4. Look at me, aren’t I clever? No, not especially, it was an introductory level course on a subject I already have some broad awareness of. I was almost-but-not-quite that gobby kid in the classroom, who kicks off with “We’ve already done this!” during a revision class. Slightly more self-aware than I was when I was at school, I chose to expand-out on my knowledge, rather than dismiss it as baby-work. (I very clearly remember the Special Needs teacher assessing me when I moved schools, “Miss, I’ve finished.” “Well done, now turn over the page and do the next sheet.” “Miss, I’ve done all of the sheets.” That was repeated with last year’s neuro-psych assessment, but in reverse. “I don’t know.” “Would you like me to repeat the question.” “No, repeating the question won’t help, I still won’t be able to calculate the answer, the numbers are 3, 8, and 4, I just don’t know how to move them around.”) 

That one is a learned behaviour, the educational system taught me that ‘being intelligent’ was rewarded, taught me to crow-when-I-know, and I’ve built that into my weird defensive mechanisms, trying to ‘prove’ I’m clever. Sometimes I’m unkind with it, my delusions of grandeur are going to have to go. Sometimes I’ll argue for the sake of it, not so much now, because I expose myself to fewer people to argue with. Sometimes, I’ll get an idea into my head, and refuse to back down, my patented tactic of “Other people will eventually agree, just to get me to shut up.” 

The MH assessment was horrible on many fronts, I think that the one that has hit hardest is acknowledging that I’m not as intelligent as I like to project. “Did you use any of the strategies your last counsellor gave you?” “Not really, they were strategies I already knew, from being a Learning Mentor. I didn’t think that the sort of thing I’d teach a 13-year-old was appropriate.” (I bloody hate worksheets, long-standing issue with generic strategies for individual issues.) “Maybe that foundation level is where you need to start from.” She might as well have punched me in the guts, that winded-wounded me, but she’s right, ‘knowing’ something is not the same as ‘doing’ it, I’ve been ‘acting clever’ for most of my life. I was acutely aware of my tendency to ‘shout out the answer’ during the group-work I had to do to access further intervention. (Now chuckling at the time I whacked myself in the face with a rolling-pin after my brother’s ex and I imposed a rule that only the person holding the rolling-pin could speak, we were both babblers.) I wasn’t fully engaged with the course, because I was consciously suppressing my urge to act-up, show-off, be-clever. 

My Dad told me I was stupid, ugly, weak. My ex compounded that, by belittling me at every opportunity. I stopped speaking to them both, because I’m Little-Miss-Can’t-Be-Wrong, but now a qualified mental health doctor has very gently pointed out that I’m not-all-that. I am undone. (I did have a really unpleasant period of wondering whether there was any point existing if I couldn’t be ‘that’, but, if I can’t be ‘that’, I’ll just have to be something else.)  

Cognitive Analytic Therapy. A sixteen-session course of relational therapy, 1:1 with a therapist, where we’ll pick apart my disordered thinking, and work on re-routing it. Learned behaviours can be un-learned, right? I’ve had my two days of don’t-want-to stompy tantrum, and accepted that I cannot be a smart-arse about this. I need to go in with an open mind, and not roll my eyes when the crayons come out. (There will be crayons, there’s a ‘mapping’ exercise, which ISN’T the same as the one I did in RE in secondary school, thank you very much, dismissive-superiority-complex head.) I’ve always had disordered thinking, and now I have a damaged brain as well, I could ‘cope’ with the cognitive tangents when my brain was intact, with a variety of maladaptive strategies. It’s going to be a case of taking guidance on what I need to let go of, Marie Kondo for my mind. I need to not obsessively cling to my security blanket of weird, the therapist is not going to ‘take’ the fundamental essence of me away, they’re going to help me to make it more functional. 

I don’t ‘have to’ be an Instagram-Stepford-wife, nobody is going to force me to take up kitten-plaiting and cake-decorating, but I will have to relinquish some of my control-behaviours. I will have to accept that parrot-repeating a theory is not the same as understanding and applying it, and that I can’t continue deflecting intense emotions with my bizarre tool-kit of avoidance tactics. I give lip-service to the notion of recognise-reflect-respond, but tend to skip the ‘reflect’ stage, and ‘respond’ by putting the emotion on the ‘things to deal with later’ pile. They’re not going to try to make me into something I’m not, some of my coping mechanisms are acceptable, and you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. 

Onwards. I have the referral for the CAT, which I acknowledge that I need. I have a referral to the MH social prescribing team, which will probably come through first, a holding-strategy of day-centres that probably smell funny, and ‘little bits of voluntary work.’ I’ve also requested a formal diagnosis, I need an official name for ‘this’, apparently I shouldn’t use ‘Complex PTSD’ due to the absence of flashbacks and nightmares about the original abuse, I was too tired to mention the panic attacks and nightmares I have about the more-recent compounding factors. I’m moving forwards, and I have to seek-and-follow, because I can’t untangle this mess on my own. Every time I’ve tried to put myself back together, I’ve followed my usual DIY practice of deciding not to put ALL the screws back in, because it’ll be easier to access the next time it breaks. It’s not going to be a quick fix, but at least it’s not medication, I was able to articulate that the ‘Prozac fog’ on top of the brain injuries posed a risk of self-neglect. (Smirking, that my adorable GP knows me well enough to keep prescribing enough medication to kill a small horse, he knows I’m going nowhere along the overdose route.) 

I don’t know whether the therapy or diagnosis will happen before my disability benefit comes up for review. I do suspect that DWP will attempt to declare me fit-for-work regardless of whether anything has changed, so I’ll just have to deal with that when it happens, and not rabbit-hole myself about how the punitive-scrutiny of the DWP systems and processes are part of the reason I need help. I was damaged before the brain haemorrhage, before the separation from the ex, before the kid going away to uni, before I lost my job, and had to throw myself on the mercy of state benefits, it’s the cumulative toll of all-of-it that’s tipped me. Saying “That happened, accept it and move on.” isn’t actually accepting, it’s deflecting, and I can’t keep doing that.