That’s it! Too much time to think, alone, reflecting on the past, bringing it in to the present. No access to healthcare professionals unless I had Covid 19. Even then it was a masked person muttering at me. Certainly not interested in mental health. “You are lucky to be alive,” she said. Lucky? Me? 77 years old with Bipolar and other nasty physical things. Isolated for four months – nightmares re-emerging. 7 years old again. That’s when it all began. Years of abuse mentally and physically. I never fully realised it before these long days of isolation. I had to do something about it and I did. Sharing my story with a colleague and then many days of recollection and finding evidence. It goes on and whatever the outcome I have an overwhelming sense of relief, achievement.
Then the depression. Hours of alone-ness. Became obsessed with chat rooms and paid for the company of others in far off lands. Hundreds of pounds. I bought a ticket to Malaysia and cancelled the next day. Still trying to get a refund. Now I am angry with myself. Venting my rage on others. Needing urgent help. Crisis. GP surgery closed. Incredible? How can the doctor not work at this time? To protect himself no doubt. What can I do. OK I will double the mood stabiliser and see what happens. Now I am more crazy. Aggressive impossible to live with myself. I don’t want to die I don’t want to live.
Doctors are back – sort of – telephone call only. What good is that. I change GP. Real people – I don’t hate them – now I have pills to help me sleep and referral back to the Psych. She has been transferred and I will get a new one. Oh God do I have to tell the 77 years of history again. Seems my NHS records have been shredded. Only most recent available. OK. I write a summary of the misery of my life. Leave out the few good bits. Realise how much I dislike Psychiatrists and how useless they have been. I prefer RD Laing. Not the ECT and modified insulin. Anyone remember that? New phone Psych arrives. Dr. Daisy. Love the name. She sounds nice. We are getting on well and have a crisis system set up. I can’t see that the NHS of the future will be right for people like me. I never got on with the Samaritans.
No I am getting bored with this. The spell check can’t spell and it’s making me depressed. I am glad I took the opportunity to let it out. At least one benefit of Covid 19.