Love is becoming real

Following up from my previous entries when I had fallen for a Romanian, I felt I’d best report I got conned.

I don’t want to go into details because I would rather forget the whole experience now, although I have contacted the Police to try and recover stuff that was stolen from me and particularly to prevent him from becoming a Police Officer in the UK which he had told me he was studying for – whether this was true or not who knows.

I have now discovered and experiencing Love again though but this time, I will keep it to myself.

I will just say I have met the most amazing guy whilst sectioned [he was sectioned too, similar circumstances as me, ie sectioning wasn’t the best option for him but he got tricked into it] and we are living the most amazing romance despite all the challenges.

I have never been happier, so happy I won’t be writing about it but living the experience to the max ;-).

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By newpaz

Letter to a psychiatrist

Dear Dr Agarwalpsychiatrist at Norwich Rollesby Ward, Hellesdon Hospital.

The NHS is underfunded was the comment a staff member made following a “Self Harm” course he had attended after he explained the course was more about shame and guilt than its consequences (hospitalisation).

Shame you were off that day, as I feel you would have benefitted from this course.

The NHS is underfunded because money isn’t spent wisely when it comes to Mental Health.

Yesterday, I read the reports that should have been given to me in good time prior to the Hospital Managers Meeting I was due to attend today – they were only given to me  less than 24 hours prior – and they made interesting reading.

Not only a few (!!) facts were factually incorrect, others only one version of events, and listing all the medication I had been given plus my stay in LSE (Low Sensory Environment) was frankly laughable!

padded-cell

Enough to convince me I am correct in believing We – the Royal We – ought to concentrate more on psychology than psychiatry.

It wasn’t long ago your profession decided lobotomy was the answer – remember? Shameful all the more. [I have since been told by a staff member lobotomies are on the up again.]

thelobotomist-1440x564_c

The worst was you felt I should be sectioned for as long as possible [six months] – shameful again.

Who do you think you are to make such decisions?

I am tired of you people (psychiatrists) you really have no clue what kind of person I amNo Clue.

Treat people’s emotion problems instead of medicating them and you see vast improvements.

Then we can see just how underfunded the NHS really is when it comes to Mental Health.


I had written this letter to Dr Agarwal however, my hearing got postponed and I found myself transferred to PICU (Psychiatric Intensive Care Unit) in Ipswich before I got a chance to finish the letter and give it to him.

[I only stayed in PICU Ipswich 48 hours as they didn’t know why I was sent them and got moved to the Poppy Open Ward in Ipswich still where Dr Jenkins and Dr McCormack were in charge of me. The contents still valid, I thought I would carry on the letter and add a worry I then had with the care provided by those two doctors.]

I now have an extra worry: my income.

I am a home owner see and have been most of my working life.

Currently I own a house in Thetford and I need an income to pay for it: my job.

Work is kindly paying me whilst I have been sectioned for at least six months but since I was sectioned first in July, and we are now November, the six months is soon to expire.

Back in Hellesdon, Norwich, I agreed to take medication so I could be discharged. I even agreed to take the Depot injection to prove I was serious.

depot-injection

Weeks later, I find myself still sectioned. Why? Apparently because you don’t trust me to carry on with the medication if I am discharged.

I don’t agree with long term medication but I need to go back to work. I want to go back to work.

Whilst you are debating whether I will carry on with medication, I have been busy making plans on my discharge follow-up with my care coordinator.

I will meet up with a psychologist, Ollie, to resolve some deep rooted issues I have (trust issues mainly), I have also decided to keep serious track of my sleep pattern (I usually sleep four to five hours a night and things go wrong when I consistently drop below three), I will see my GP (General Practitioner) to be prescribed sleeping tablets for occasional use if/when my sleep pattern drops below three hour.

I will take regular retreats away from the Internet (I have an Internet addiction).

I have already spoken to work about what my return to work will look like (phased return, handling the knowledgebase and customer surveys as I am a Service Desk Analyst and this something I enjoy doing).

All I need now is to be discharged, preferably before my work sick pay runs out.

What do you need from me?

Pascale

By newpaz

Letter to My Unborn Child

 

As I write this letter, I find myself sectioned.

Strangely I feel safe here.

The World out there is a bit scary to me currently:

I have had to cut ties with my immediate family; your uncle only thinks about sex; your Grand Mother, who would have so loved you; and your Grand Father.

Your Uncle could be forgiven, for he is disabled except he has disrespected nearly every woman who has come into his life, starting with yours truly when I was about 12 years old.

Your Grand Mother sees nothing wrong with her favourite brother, now deceased, having slept with his daughters when they were children, confusing one to the extent she took her secret to the grave – that she felt so much love for her own father that it ruined her life.

Your Grand Father, well, he is more concerned with money than anything in the world, hardly the role model a Grand Father ought to be…in my humble opinion.

I also have “issues” on the “home” front, surrounded by neighbours I cannot trust, unable to resolve the situation using the usual means (Police).

That situation drove me so crazy I found myself unlawfully sectioned and, unfortunately with little recourse to resolve the situation.

However, as I said, I find myself gratefully sectioned.

Here, I feel I can nurse my Soul back to its loving self. Taking time to care for myself, slowly but surely, rekindling my love for life.

Life that is all around.

It would be hard to explain it to you, however nature is talking to me.

And as long as nature keeps talking to me, I feel safe.

And every time I feel safe, your presence makes itself known to me.

When I get so exhausted of dealing with life, you grow within me.

As I write this, I should have 12 hours (ish) to wait before finding out the truth…are you really there? I will know soon enough.

If you are really there, it would change everything for me.

To levels I can only imagine.

…Nope, I can’t even imagine how much it would change everything for me. The mind, mine, cannot comprehend the level to which my life would change.

I wish, or hope, for one thing only: that you would be born healthy.

Whatever however, I promise you, through thick and thin, rich or poor, you would be the happiest child on earth.

I love you already with all my heart, my unborn child.

Yours, so very loving, mother yet to be be

xxx


Addendum: the test came back negative, I am not pregnant.

 

By newpaz

Letter to Frodo, Beloved Dog – RIP <3

 

I am so sorry Frodo.

I have been so busy trying to decide who or what to blame for your death, from the day I laid my hand on you in your cage when I felt your last breath that I forgot that it was your last breath I felt.

Forgot or rather hide.

I won’t forget about that glass of red wine I drunk at Wendy’s. To give me “Dutch courage” beforehand.

I won’t forget how I was trying to tidy up at work before driving home. How Chris my boss looked at me incredulous that under such circumstances – your certain death – all I could think about was tidying up work.

How could I explain to him your death had a deadline – 2 pm.

2 pm was the appointment the vet had given me to put you to sleep.

Only Wendy, who came with me – for support – witnessed my desperate attempt to save your life.

£2,000 was the price set by the vet on your life.

£2,000 I could really have afforded if I hadn’t been so scared.

Scared it wouldn’t be enough.

The vet tried desperately to convince me it was madness. Even then they couldn’t say for sure you could be saved.

My desperate attempts to call your dad Brent in Canada to see if he could go half on that cost. Only realising now it was the middle of the night his end.

I hate myself for caring so much about the environment. I can never forget seeing you shake that time I tied you to that lamp post in Canmore as I was so busy and angrily cleaning up the garbage in that bloody ditch outside that petrol station whose staff commanded me so much for picking other people’s trash.

Did anyone else saw you I wonder and wondered what the hell I was doing – I so want to go back to that spot…so want to.

Maybe that’s where I should go for Christmas…Canmore.

Revisit the road, the spot where it all went wrong for me. Travel down to Waterton where things completely went wrong for me and you.

Could I though Frodo? Could I?

No, I could never – ever. Alberta is out of bounds for me now. For Ever.

I can live with that. I know I can.

By newpaz