Originally posted via GoDaddy Blogs 27 December 2021. Copied like for like 21/03/2024.
My quietness over the past few months both on and off-line appears to have gone vastly un-noticed. As much as it is a double edged sword to my believed self worth and internal battles, the lack of acknowledgement also presents as a surprisingly blessing in disguise, Most who know me’ are now accustom to me vanishing without notice, ignoring the calls, texts and hiding away in my own world, however, without knowledge of my internal struggles, many deem this to be selfish and rude. And to be fair they have a right to believe this, after all, I am the most dependable and helpful person you will meet but my people skills are nothing more than “customer service” skills, designed to “fix a problem” or “people please”. Should the expectancy turn to socialising or be agenda free, I will question everything within my head, sit in a corner quietly, and try to shy away from the situation as much as possible.
I am sure anyone who gets to experience me in my “comfortable” stage will explain how I am funny, silly or something along them lines. After all we all need to wind down and for me to be in a position where I feel I don’t need to please anyone around me, I am a bubbly person. Strangely the place where you will see the care-free me the most is on foreign holidays. I like to visit places which see very little brits and you have to learn the language basics in order to get the most out of your trip. With little chance of having to seeing anyone around me again and knowledge of what happens when I stress about everything around me, I am more likely to get up and dance, sing, play games and enjoy myself. I am also more likely to have an alcoholic drink and “let my hair down”. This isn’t a change which takes place overnight however, my hypervigilance is usually at it’s highest during the first week meaning, in order to enjoy myself, I need at least two weeks away, otherwise it is just a week of heightened stress, anxiety, and depression, exasperated by the anxieties felt on both the first and last day of the holiday, my social anxieties just dangle around my neck are all very draining. One advantage is a reduction of stressors frequently experienced through the usual day to day chores, allowing for me to handle these a lot better than I can at home… but I digress.
As mentioned before, the past year has been very challenging when it comes to both my physical and mental health, filled with many mini implosions, strong levels of self doubt and many internal threats to give up University and force myself back into work. I fell so far behind on my Uni work that I only just scraped through the second year. April and May were spent with my head down in my books and throwing out one paper after another. I am fully aware that my finished work is sub-par and I I can do far better if I had put my mind to it however, instead of doing my projects and essays when I should have, I buried my head in the sand and let the dunes build up around me. By the end of May I had completed all projects as well as completing my exams in time however a couple of tutors refused to accept that my mental health was a good enough reason so I did have to re-do some papers during the summer term. This resulted in me having to sit in a quite room for a few days and write a couple of papers in Crete whilst the rest of the family enjoyed their holidays. I did pass the year, but by the skin of my teeth.
When coupled with my mental health journey (this update requires a blog of it’s own), my physical health (yet another Blog needed for this also), and my newly diagnosed “learning difficulties” (where do I start with that one), I have found I am taking far too long to just acknowledge what I am writing about, let alone keeping to the subject at hand. I often find myself deleting and re-writing my work over an over due to going off on tangent as you can probably gather in my Blogs, and Vlogs also. Throw in the daily events of an over active and very demanding home, you have a recipe for disaster. I am in hope that I can scrape through this final year without having to redo any of it, just as much as I am in hope that I am able to get more on-campus learning and time for my third year of studies. Whilst most are complaining about paying so much money for what is effectively an “open university” course, I only have two complaints over the past year. Online lectures are no good for my learning and the support and communication available during the last year has been terrible at best. I appreciate it was a new experience for all, however, for such a rich country to not be ready for an event of this scale is scary.
One plus note of the pandemic is the implementation of contactless payment in B&Q stores. Having spent the first ten years of my working life working for B&Q, I know full well how far behind they are on the competitors. The tills they currently use were introduced during my time at B&Q and I have not worked there for fifteen years, with the chip and pin system only being used during my last year of employment, having used the magnetic strip readers instead. Overall a poor performance for what is the biggest DIY store in the country, but once again I digress.
Given the recent increase of the “new variant”, my fears of on campus learning is once again flaring, with our January Exams being online like the past two years, I fear that judgement from markers will scrutinise this aspect. With such uncertainty still strong and my health being far from ideal, I have had to put thought to my future learning. My plan was to go for masters and then PHD in clinical psychology however I no longer feel this is a path I will ever be able to follow, it is probably best for my mental health and physical situation to take a break from studying for a while once graduated. This should in theory give me space to recoup and stabilise my rocky mental health, however, I just hope that a lack of structure won’t send me back to square one.
Originally posted to GoDaddy Blogs 11 December 2021. Copied like for like 21/03/2024.
Have you tried to gain any medical help over the last couple of years that isn’t Covid related? Unfortunately my story dates prior to Covid however for the purpose of this post I will only talk about the last year or so, after all, I don’t want to bore you with too much to read. (three months after starting this post I am finally finishing it, I am sorry I lied about the length)
Up until my unfortunate demise (breakdown), I had managed to maintain a healthy(ish) weight and avoid medication as much as possible. After various unsuccessful overdose events, I opted to avoid medication and reverted back to my alternate treatments of booze and stupidly dangerous behaviours. My depression was hidden for many years with the excuse of migraines being used when not being able to get into work or participate in society, at which point I would lock myself away in my empty house until the internal darkness would lift a little or societal expectations exacerbated my fearful anxieties into a position which would overtake my depressed state, such as not collecting my daughter for contact or the risk of loosing my job if I didn’t get back or to the doctors for a “sick-note”. Whilst in this state I inconsistently missed contacts with my daughter, an act which can still keep me up at night ruminating over the disappointment my daughter would have had in me, giving that I was her only form of break from what was a tough time for her.
The build up to my breakdown began a few years prior to the big implosion, my absences and depression episodes becoming frequent and multiplying in duration until I was unable to keep them hidden anymore. I came clean with my then doctor (Hadfield Medical Practice), who was quick to prescribe anti-depressants and refer me for counselling. My fear of medication in my possession was strong at this point and I wanted off them as soon as possible. I stopped taking the anti-depressants, partially because of my fears and partially because I could not afford the weekly prescriptions I was placed on due to my past attempts on my life. I was successful in being referred for Cognitive Analytical Therapy and, after a group of sessions, I had found coping mechanisms with some events and partial understanding of why my childhood was as it was, which was documented in start and end letters (if I find them I will post them at a later date). I had been given the diagnoses of Cyclothymia, however, this diagnoses was never discussed with me and, having omitted my my abuse from the session discussions, I am unsure if this was correct or just. One of my biggest regret is not talking about all the experiences I had endured as a child as the therapist who was working with me was one of the best I have encountered throughout my struggles. Life’s events however dictated this action and, although now I am able to talk freely about my abuse, I believed at the time that some things just were not in my interest to disclose and had I done so, my only reason for living would be taken away from me.
Whilst coming to an end of my sessions with my counsellor, I was also in custody proceedings with my daughters mother and social services, given that my daughter and her siblings (not my children) were on the cusp of being removed from their mother, with my daughter coming to live with me and the other children being placed into long term foster care, I feared such disclosure would have resulted in my daughter also being placed into foster care and taken away from me. Given the events when I finally disclosed my abuse and the lack of support bubble I had at the time, I am almost certain my daughter would have not been placed into my care. Instead, I kept my abuse hidden and “cracked on” with life. We moved away not long after until events resulted in us coming back to sunny Salford, however, that is a subject for another blog. With my daughter in my full time care, and my depression and anxieties still not dealt with correctly, I no longer was able to lock myself away in a dark, empty house for a few weeks or drink myself into a coma like state anymore. I had to be on the ball and wear my “strong male” mask 24/7. I had no protective circle and due to my now known issues with keeping people at arms length, I had no-one to help me with childcare for self-care days. Everyone around us had to be vetted by social services due to my daughter still being under their child in need arrangement, whilst my anxieties meant I would not put anyone in that position, resulting in it being me and my daughter against the world. With no time for self care, my demise was starting to crack through my false faces.
I was starting to struggle at work, losing my temper with colleagues and customers, taking on too much work and building on anxieties I had hidden away from the world for so long. I had started to opt for “wet lunches” at the pub, attacking inanimate objects to defuse my anger and punching my head, body and legs to deal with my mental health (I still do this form of self harm daily). The demise of my mental health was becoming apparent throughout the office with some colleagues who worked closely with me becoming concerned, however, my manifested fears, anxieties, and expectancy beliefs meant I would not talk about what was truly wrong with me. After all, my daughter was still under the remit of the social services, she needed me to be supportive and strong for her, to be strong I needed to provide a level of parental expectation including keeping a job to put food on the table, keep us homed, and clothed etc: I feared that if I told of my mental health struggles I would be sent home on the sick, this meant reduced pay so I would not be able to afford my rent, bills, car running cost, childcare etc, the social services would take my daughter for me not being mentally sound, I would lose my house, lose my job completely and end up homeless, the usual resonating fears!!!! It could be argued that my managers had a duty of care towards me however past posts have covered this a little and I will be doing a focussed blog on my working life soon.
A shift in the companies dynamics added excess pressure to what was already a demanding job and as a result I was dealing with the worst of customer calls on a daily bases. Given that I was on the cusp of a breakdown and struggling with work I was convinced to seek help. Once again I was placed on anti-depressants and referred for Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. I attended the CBT sessions when I was offered them however it quickly became apparent that this was not right for me. The day before my sessions came to an abrupt halt, I had experienced a traumatising day at work which had resulted in me wanting to leap out of the 7th floor window and had gotten me into a lot of bother with management. I was already on an employment action plan due to my time off for self care and I was on the downward spiral heading towards total destruction. My life was coming to an end and I had no desire to continue.
During that last session, I expressed my concern that the treatment was not the right form for me which the counsellor agreed with, having expressed that I needed help with my past experiences, my physical, emotional and sexual abuse!!!!!!!!!!!!!!… The events had just become real. I left the counsellors office, sat in my car and broke down into floods of tears….. Every memory of my childhood traumas came flooding back to me in one big bang. I was broken and I just wanted to die.
The events which followed are still a little hazy and I am still not in a strong enough position to go over my past videos to put the pieces together, however I am fully aware that my life didn’t end. I did try many times, however, for some strange reason, I am still here to tell my tail. I would like to say that my life became easier after this moment and I am living my best life now, unfortunately, this is far from the truth.
Little over five years since my breakdown, my life is constantly changing, however, my mental health care still drags on like a child pushing a trundle wheel around the school playground. On a side note, I saw two grown men (road workers) pushing a trundle wheel down the road a few weeks ago dressed in high vis vests, with one writing down numbers every time they stopped. I had a freaky flashback of wanting to push the wheel in primary school so I didn’t have to log the number of clicks in a tally chart… but I digress.
Currently at the writing of this, I am medicated on Venlafaxine, Mirtazapine and Promazine, as well as 80mg Statin, Lisinopril and Lansoprazole to counteract the strain placed upon my body following the fast weight gain (13st to 20st) my mental health meds side effects have developed. I was on Quetiapine however this was changed to Mirtazapine in an attempt to lower my constant hunger issues. I am on folic acid (Vitamin B12) supplements and Vitamin D as both are low (I foolishly thought only pregnant women need folic acid supplements), both of which present symptoms including depression, anxieties, tiredness, feeling drained and memory issues amongst others. Non-surprisingly such side effects are also attributed to my mental health ailments, presenting a chicken and egg conundrum within my body and mind. Nervous system problems can cause these deficiencies but also these deficiencies can cause nervous system problems, sometimes it feels like I can’t win, especially when my body and mind can’t come to an agreement to work together. As minimal my problems present, my mind will tell me that I am not supposed to be helped and I should go away, stop mithering people and die in a cold dark corner away from everyone else. A contrary and over-the-top response I know, however, this is the messed up scrambled thought process my mind goes through, copious times an hour. Care from Greater Manchester Mental Health NHS Foundation Trust (GMMH) team is as active as my medication progression, in that it hasn’t changed much although some slight thought has been introduced along the years. To expand on this further, it is best to explain the GMMH dynamics first from my external perspective and my chronological involvement with GMMH and connected services (to what my memory can present).
GMMH control the NHS mental health care throughout Greater Manchester area. They have secure centres across the region, within various medical hospital grounds, and a large mental health hospital base in Prestwich. They also have smaller satellite facilities within the community districts. To my knowledge care is categorised into primary and secondary, however, I imagine there are more categories to include the medical hospital teams and mental health hospital teams etc; of which I have come into contact with the mentioned categorised teams as well as the home based treatment team who are located at Meadowbrook, Salford over the last five years. Initially starting with the primary care team for CBT therapy, as mentioned above, my treatment took an impromptu about turn and found me under the care of the home based treatment team. Handed off from the home based treatment team when they deemed me as “no longer a high risk”, I was referred to Cromwell House (local satellite) and placed under there “care”. After a couple of years being told I am too unstable to treat and medication being “tweaked”, I was finally referred for “primary care” treatment. 9 months later I am sat with a therapist who is telling me I am still too unstable for treatment and there is more than just c-PTSD going on in my head. I receive a diagnoses of Emotionally Unstable Personality Disorder (EUPD/BPD), given some coping advise and referred back to Cromwell House for Personality Disorder (PD) work. another 9 months later (last week) I receive an assessment appointment for this work however, in true world v Stevie fashion, I receive the appointment letter on the afternoon of the appointment day, which was a morning appointment. (I could go into a rant about RoyalMail about this but lets see how this plays out first). Frantically I rushed round to Cromwell House and explained my predicament, I was told I would get a phone call from the worker, it never happened. I returned the next day for an update and I was told it wasn’t looked at and a note will be placed for the worker to contact me regarding the appointment. to top it off, the psychologist I am under checks in with me every 4/6 months, leaving me to control my own daemons.
So my current standing is, I am heavily medicated, clinically obese, constantly tired, drained, and unable to last a day without inflicting some form of self harm to my body in order to cope with the battles going on in my head.
I am going to leave this post here as I am conscious I have diverted off topic and it is a lot to read in one sitting. If you have gotten this far then I congratulate and thank you for listening to my waffling and moaning.
Originally posted via GoDaddy Blogs and YouTube 12 July 2021. Copied like for like 21/03/2024.
£9250 for a year of poor online classes, minimal support and multiple failures in communication. Broken promises and dashed dreams. The promise of “blended learning” not being delivered and access to much needed facilities no longer being a viable option for most of us. The pandemic has highlighted how poor this “rich” country is when it comes to taking care of sufferers of mental health, with many taking their own life when help is not available. I have accepted my failings, it’s time the Universities, politicians and health care trusts started to accept their failings also. I also discuss my current mental health situation and addition to the diagnoses acronyms. #PTSD, #Anxiety, #Depression, #emotionallyunstablepersonalitydisorder, #borderlinepersonalitydisorder, #eupd, #bpd, #c-ptsd, #cptsd, #livingwithstevie, #mentalhealth, #university, #failed, #itsoktonotbeok
Originally posted via GoDaddy Blog site 2 May 2021. Copied like for like 21/03/2024.
Mrs Stevie is always going on about how I am too stubborn and how I should attend the doctors surgery when I have complications, pains or other ailments. I myself have had far too many bad experiences with doctors and other medical & health professionals to even want to set myself up for another fall. It is such failings which spur me on to “suck it up” and crack on with the theory that it will go away eventually. Their is a high possibility this mentality will be the reason I will shuffle off this mortal coil early in life. That being said, I am sure my mentality is highly justified, given most of my visits to health practitioners end in me being fobbed off, insulted, ignored or in my first memorable negative encounter, left to Die.
Other instances happened during my childhood such as torn ligaments diagnosed when I had a fracture however it is my last encounter with the family GP, Dr Butler which started the downward spiral of trust with medical professionals. Given all the trauma I was already being put through, it would be understandable that my cries of excruciating pain in my sinus area and migraines could be brushed off as fictional. After all, I was at that time, five years into my abuse, taking daily beatings at school and I had only had a cup kicked at my face with a steal toe-capped boot a week before through the abuse I was receiving in my own home. The issue is however, most of this trauma was hidden from the world and those who knew one trauma, didn’t know about the others etc. So when I am telling my mother about the pains I am feeling in my head and face, she tells me to f@$k off to school because she didn’t want me “under her feet”. As the pain worsened, the cries for help were continually ignored and brushed off until I awoke with with a slight swelling on my face. I remember being told that it will go down and to go away. At some point the doctor was called who followed the guidance of my mother and claimed there was nothing wrong with me. It was only at the point of my face starting to resemble the Elephant Man that my neighbours stepped in and told my mother I needed to go to hospital. By this time I was faint and struggling to move, my neighbour took me to Trafford General {Park} hospital (not my mother), and sat with me in A&E until I was seen.
Severe sinusitis was the diagnoses. Explaining that it was on the cusp of turning to Meningitis, the doctor had me sent straight to the children’s ward, (past the white rabbit), which was my home for the next two weeks whilst they inserted a drip into my nasal cavity to drain the infection and a drip into my arm for draining blood and pumping in meds. I could go on to talk about the lack of familial visitors during this time, however, I imagine I no longer need to. Neither health care nor mental health care got better from there, given that the next few years consisted of me being told to “go out for a pint with mates” by a counsellor at my first attempt to gain psychological help and the shattering of my wrist bone being diagnosed as a sprain by the hospital who refused to x-ray it. Later cries for help resulted in various attempts on my life with one resulting in me being unconscious for nearly a week whilst they attempt to explore why I was, having hid any evidence, I didn’t want to survive. I was given four counselling sessions with MIND Manchester and then kicked back to the kerb to “crack on with it”.
I am fully aware I am far from the ideal patient. My experiences have resulted in me not wanting to visit the doctors unless it is life threatening or greatly impacting my day to day activities. That being said, when I do present to the doctors, it is too much to ask to be treated by a nice person who is going to listen to me and understand I do struggle, rather than behaving like Dr Gregory House and treating me like a piece of crap. At least he helped people with their ailments while insulting them. I have talked about my poor treatment in the past however the advanced failings experienced during the pandemic bring it to an all time low.
So what is my issue? I will be posting a few more posts regarding my medical treatment so I won’t go on too much here however I write this following a visit to a Rheumatoid clinic at Salford Royal Infirmary. As explained in past posts, I struggle with anxieties both in person and over the phone however, where face to face anxiety is sporadic and can be managed with promazine, telephone anxiety can debilitate me for up to three days if I am not fully prepared for the call in advance. The shift from face to face treatments to telephone based saw me quickly dropped from services and kicked to the kerb with no visible sign of return. I was dropped by the diabetic team due to confusions between letters stating I had telephone consultations but they had me booked in for face to face, I was put on the backburner for face to face primary mental health care at the beginning of lockdown for which I am only just starting to get help for and any form of face to face medical care has not been possible at my doctors surgery however that will be in another post also. One complication I have struggled with for a few years now with the worst of it being over the past year is chronic pain around various limbs and frequent numbness in my arms and hands.
The Mrs convinced me to apply for physio to help me with this and I was successful in gaining face to face appointments for which I am grateful. The physio I have been seeing has been brilliant in helping me to strengthen un some muscles and explaining all possibilities. Believing I would benefit from an assessment by the Rheumatoid clinic, I was referred and seen in the Salford Royal Hospital base clinic. I entered the room and attempted to explain that I struggle with anxieties and I will babble a bit, (I talk at a fast pace and my words often either get mixed up or vanish completely as my mouth tries to keep up with my head. I was told to strip and carried out a handful of stretches. I got re-dressed and sat back in the room only to be told the only thing wrong with me is that I am overweight and I don’t exercise so the pain is me using the muscles for the first time!!!!!!!! what the actual!!!!!!!!! Her diagnoses is I am fat and don’t exercise.
At no point did we discuss daily activities, exercise, home dynamics or anything related to how active I am, nor did we discuss why I have gained weight, what I do to control my weight or why I was discharged by the diabetic clinic. We never discussed my frequent numbness, what type of pains I have or even the fact that I have a very high pain threshold and the ability to switch pain off, so if I am feeling pain, there is an issue. In fact we didn’t discuss much of anything, she had already made her mind up that I was fat and lazy.
A few weeks have passed since this appointment and me starting to write this post, (I was writing this sitting outside Bury Costa, trying to distract myself from the events of that appointment, and the fact I am sitting outside in the freezing cold drinking coffee and waiting for the Missus to fulfil her yearning of shopping once again). I have had time to reflect upon the appointment and to be honest it still stings. Luckily the Physio was also unhappy with this and has not given up on me so hopefully I will see more from that. I am already extremely conscious and distressed when it comes to my weight, so to be told that, I came home and I was ready to throw all my tablets down the drain and bring the real me back. I am not to proud to say, I sat in the car and I cried. I have attached the outcome letter from this professional as an example of how some professionals treat their patients. (BTW, I’m not on insulin, I’m borderline diabetic)
Fat and Lazy G.O.O.M.E.RFat and Lazy, G.O.O.M.E.R
I will be writing more about my medical experience after my exams this week
Originally posted via GoDaddy Blogs 1 April 2021. Copied like for like 21/03/2024
Following the re-creation of the website, I had planned to transfer all the old blogs and Vlogs together into one feed in date order, I’m still trying to figure out how to do that, once I do I will give it a start. Unfortunately life took over, as it does, and events have kept both me and my mental health on it’s toes. I will expand on this soon, however, at the moment I am still trying to get my own head around it.
Yesterday was the first day in a long time I have felt like doing anything. We visited Scarborough Castle and Whitby Bay for a drive out over the Yorkshire dales and today I have pressure washed the front drive. Having also shaved off my beard and hair, I am currently back to my old bald, cleanshaven self. For how long, who knows. Although productive, the last couple of days are starting to take their toll. I am now in pain and struggling to walk. My recent visit to physio may have highlighted the reasoning behind my muscle pains etc, I will expand on that more also once I have visited the Rheumatologist.
My university work should be taking up most of my time over the next few weeks ready for my exams, until then I have many papers to catch up on so this page may be quiet until then.
Originally posted via GoDaddy blogs on 17 March 2021. Copied like for like 21/03/2024.
Having tried my hand at blogging and vlogging already, I have wanted to do more than what I have managed to do so far. Lockdown impacted how I was able to record Vlogs due to my hectic home life and my mental health took yet another drastic dip over the past year. This resulted in me backing off from my “blogging plan”, and me focusing as I could on my Uni work. I do try to tweet or post on Facebook as much as I can however this was also impacted by my mental health and self worth. It’s time to try again.
My last rant on Twitter was a poor one which demonstrated how bad my health has been. Instead of applying my usual democratic responses to being left standing around waiting for my counselling session, I was having a moan. Although my response is an understandable one, and acceptable considering my track record with mental health services, it is not something I usually moan about without knowing the reason I was left the way I was. That being said, the measures put in place due to Covid are a little over the top with some organisations. It was a fight enough to get face to face counselling, the fact I have to stand in a hallway next to locked waiting room door, whilst people walk past and often look in my direction (I am stood with a mask on and hood up) is an extremely stressful and anxiety antagonising time. The much needed pre-session warmth is non-existent. Anyway, I digress.
Over the next few days/weeks, I will be creating a few Vlogs to catch up with the last year and exploring a way of post dating past blogs/vlogs into one format.
Originally posted via YouTube and Blogger 2 August 2020. Copied like for like 21/03/2024.
My story part 3. The aftermath, the betrayal and everlasting effects. TRIGGER WARNING
A bit of a mop up to the last two posts. As explained previously and in these videos, these videos are just a short indicator to the traumas and events I have endured over the past 35 years. They may be the reason I am who I am however they do not define me. I am who I am despite my endurance’s. The detailed information regarding the experiences within this video will be written down eventually, along with more events and experiences. My desire is to publish my experiences in a way which can not only show others that these things do happen within this world, I will show that people can rise from the flames of abuse without becoming the monster that made them. My past will be an open book and I will be talking about all my experiences within the publication.
Originally posted via YouTube and Blogger 1 August 2020. Copied like for like 21/03/2024.
My story pt 2. grooming, assault and rape, The trauma that stays for life. TRIGGER WARNING
The second part to my story, the abuse inflicted upon me which has dictated my life ever since. Let down by my family, let down by GMP/CPS, let down by Trafford Borough Council, let down by my high school and left alone to suffer in silence. This is my story of my experiences and how they have affected my life.
Originally posted via YouTube and Blogger 31 July 2020. Copied like for like 21/03/2024.
My story, the early years, neglect, disappointment and unwanted. CAUTION, CONTAINS POSSIBLE TRIGGERS
My story surrounding my childhood and the treatment that some may call a typical 80’s upbringing, whilst others will see it for what it is. This is only a small insight into the foundation of what was to be the trauma that defined my future.
