No More Words

There is only so much pain, so much bullying and abuse by others to take out their own issues, one person can take.

Nearly two years ago I was the victim of a dodgy landlord, who evicted me illegally and never returned some of my possessions, including personal medical information and financial statements which I am sure he has used against me. Shortly before this I was viciously attacked, my phone and wallet taken. The landlord is connected to this, as the wallet (empty) turned up among the possessions he did bother to return.

He, along with my ex-‘friend’, is the reason the police target and torture me and mental health services hate and will not help me.

I ended up in hospital – or hospitals, for physical treatment then psychiatric. The wounds are still visible on my face – I tell myself it’s not that noticeable, that you would have to know what to look for, but I am still an ugly, disfigured freak. I have other, self-inflicted scars. I have the strain of years of mental illness showing in my face.

Mental health services blamed me for the attack claiming I was drunk. I don’t remember it (because it involved a head injury, not because of alcohol). They didn’t understand that someone who had been through that kind of trauma just might act out, that I was experiencing a dysphoric hypomanic episode after coming off antidepressants and worsened by this trauma. I was treated abusively in hospital. A psychiatrist threatened to remove my bedcovers (knowing I was sensitive about fairly fresh self-harm marks) if I didn’t get up, having struggled to sleep and been refused medication for it (guess what, a traumatised person with a head injury needs to sleep!). She then accused me of being ‘difficult’ (I had the day before confided my hurt that staff often pre-judge patients labelled with BPD/ EUPD as difficult). I was told by a male nurse I should wear make-up (I had been too depressed to well, get out of bed) and stop ‘running around’ (the implication being partying and being promiscuous, which has never been true of me, but see assumptions) and that I would never find a man (I am bisexual and open about this) because I self-harmed. I was accused of not knowing who ‘my’ named nurse was. This woman had the day before refused to see me for a one-to-one because she had dressed a wound earlier and I ‘expected too much of them’ – I asked her to explain what she meant by that and she couldn’t – but spent a long time talking to my abusive mother when she visited, no doubt about how horrible I was. I was bullied into discharging myself – told I was doing so against medical advice, but the attitudes I described earlier made it impossible for me to stay, and I was pressured into it, the same nurse kept asking me to discharge myself as I tried to resolve things. I said I was leaving to commit suicide and the male nurse and another patient laughed and told me to go and do it. I dared to be upset by this and, not wanting to hang around in this poisonous atmosphere, to ask what was happening with my medication as I would need some to take with me, and was told have to wait longer for my medication to take with me if I didn’t ‘behave’.

I only realised the injuries were clearly not the result of falling while drunk, but of an assault, a few days later. I had to point this out to police. I had reported the theft, and was asked to go into the police station. The officer was dismissive and disinterested. She told me I would have to contact the places my stolen card had been used myself – obviously, they wouldn’t give me any details, and said the police would have to request them. I was told ‘these are very serious allegations’ (always code for ‘we don’t believe you’). I had brought in my wallet, in a sealed bag, and been told they wouldn’t be able to get fingerprints. I heard nothing, called to chase them up, and was told the investigation had been discontinued because the wallet had ‘turned up’! I managed to complain and get them to agree to take a statement, for which an appointment was made, but in the meantime things became difficult. I had been bailed to appear in court for the harassment of ex-‘friend’, and had not appeared. This was not long after my discharge from hospital, and I wasn’t well enough, just couldn’t face it. If you have read about some of my treatment by police and courts, you will understand why. My then care co-ordinator refused to help, telling me I should attend as if he didn’t see why it was such an issue. He then flatly didn’t believe me that there was a warrant out for my arrest – which I found out from the police officer who was going to take my statement, who in a rare instance of decency from the police, gave me the option not to attend, as if I had he would have had to arrest me.

It seems police think in black and white. You are a Bad Person if you have ever committed a crime, no matter how small. Mental illness is not mitigation unless you are floridly psychotic and think you are Jesus, the devil etc – and then only if they believe you aren’t just acting. The ‘victim’ is always blameless, an angel – unless they have mental health issues, in which case they are never credible, or has offended themselves, in which case, forget justice.

Of course, the police are more interested in persecuting me for minor or non- offences than investigating a serious offence against me. They despise and hate me. It is basically open season on me. I would never go to the police again, so effectively anyone has licence to commit any crime they wish to against me. I have no justice system, no protection.

I am evil offender criminal ogre to them and services. They do not accept anyone has ever committed any abuse or crime against me, although there have been plenty – oh, that’s just the EUPD, they think I am oversensitive or outright lying. Never once did any mental health professional ask about the trauma I experienced as a result of this attack.

And, unsurprisingly, I have not heard from mental health services. My support worker finally managed to see me. She took a phone call during the appointment and was keen to rush off to another meeting, leaving us very little time, during which she informed me that if I do not agree to attend the ‘resolution’ meeting, I will be discharged. The meeting I agreed to and have been trying to set up. That I have been waiting several weeks for, with no help (except ineffective support worker) when they could simply have assigned a new care co-ordinator. But no, in their Kafkaesque world, they bully and threaten an unwell person who should be receiving crisis care, with the threat of discharge. (Need crisis care? Don’t be silly, I’m just an evil person with a flawed personality, not ill!)

There is only so much fighting one person can do.

They wonder why I am angry, paranoid, hurting, don’t trust people. Instead of help, mental health services have just tortured me even more.

This is why I say I am not a person, but a receptacle for abuse. No more.