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Life is full of challenges and don't we know that's true, so much has happened in both our lives that have shaped us into the people we became.

I believe the biggest challenge for me was coping with the fact that you weren't coming home from the hospital, and knowing I won't ever get to give you one more hug; to walk in your house and chat while making dinner, while the others went to Grandma, all your wonderful stories (I'll definitely be telling my children), gardening together, celebrating my achievements (you were always so proud of me). I won't ever get to have one last birthday or Christmas with you, no more Tuesday evenings together, just us two and most of all, I'll never get to tell you how much you mean to me.

There are so many regrets that I hold and for the past 3 years, I've blamed myself for your death, because I didn't spend enough time with you while I was at university. I ignored special times with you just because I didn't want to be around the rest of the family. I blame myself for putting my university exams before you, especially while you were in the hospital fighting for your life. I'm so sorry Grandad for not being there more for you when you needed me the most. Exams can be redone, making memories with loved ones can't be redone, they're once in a lifetime opportunities.

The Friday before, you had woke, you spoke to Grandma and your children, you told my uncle "look after your mum for me", you knew you weren't going to make it, I never got told that you got worse again on the following Monday. All I knew was that you were ok and awake, I planned on coming to see you after my exam on Tuesday (I wish I had known, rather than waiting over 24hrs to find out), but then I got the news...

I remember that dreadful phone call I received from dad after my exam, telling me to come over because you weren't going to make it. Oh how I cried, I couldn't believe what I was hearing, "you can't leave" I kept saying. The person I love the most, the only one that understood me, my world was crumbling down around me and there was nothing I could do or say to stop it. My friend helped me pack up some clothes and I came home, I cried all the way. However, I refused to see you, I couldn't see you in that coma, with tubes everywhere, that's not how I wanted to remember you, you were my everything, I didn't want to watch you leave me.

When I finally got the courage to go see you, I couldn't making it past the door, all the family just looked up at me and it freaked me out and seeing you in that way scared me so much. I couldn't hold it in no more... I broke.

The way you just laid there, you didn't move an inch, tubes all over the place, the heart monitor beeping in the background. You were leaving, I could see it when I looked at you, you were trying to hang on, fighting your hardest to stay. You were so brave Grandad. But little did I know you had already said your goodbyes. Those 10 seconds I learnt a lot, I learnt that life is too short, that people you love can be taken away from you any minute; I learnt just how much you meant to me. In those 10 seconds, I refused to believe that this was it, that you were going to be leaving me for good. Sitting in that waiting room I don't even know how long I was sitting there for 30 minutes an hour maybe, I don't know, I just know that it felt like an eternity.

Fast forward to 00:25am my brother brought me and dad the news I 1000% wasn't ready to hear. "HE'S GONE" that's all I heard, both of them just looked at me but I looked the other way, no way was my Grandad gone, you couldn't just leave me like that. I never got to say GOODBYE; I tried for the second time to go see you, this time with no tubes and no beeping (never knew how much not hearing that beep would affect me). I went to say goodbye but yet again I couldn't even do that; to say goodbye forever is one of the hardest things to do; I feel terrible that I've never had closure, never been able to say a proper goodbye, to tell you how much you mean to me, and that hurts every single day.

3 long and extremely tough years on, and what is there to show, I'm still not able to cope with you not being here, every day is harder and harder. Writing this is hard and tears keep pouring down my face; I just wish that I could have one more day with you. To talk about all your stories, gardening, eating sneaky ice cream when mum says no; to give you one last hug. I relive that traumatic day over and over; the last image I have of you is you laying in the hospital bed, your skin so pale; you looked like you were sleeping but I know that your spirit was no long here on earth, you had gone to a better place up in heaven; Tara has her Grandad with her now.

Everyone says that it gets easier but they're wrong, it doesn't get easier. I think of you every second of everyday; I always wonder if I'm making you proud. I remember when I did the radio talk and Grandma turned round and said to me "your Grandad would be so proud of you, he knew how much you struggled with confidence and talking, so to be able to talk of the radio and have the confidence; he'd be dancing around the kitchen if he was here, shouting that's my Grandaughter" that made me cry because no one has ever said something like that to me since you passed. I hope that I do make you proud Grandad and I know that my current mental state you'd be looking down on and telling me I'm being silly, telling me that I know what I should be doing and even though I want to be with you and the others more than anything, you'd be telling me that this isn't my time and that you will always be there with me in spirit. I know that you are in a better place now, and I can imagine that you're loving it, doing gardening, being surrounded by animals; it must be so beautiful up in heaven. You have your daughter (my aunt), you've been reunited with your first granddaughter (my sister) and you have met your first great grandchild (my baby). I can't believe you got to meet my sister and my own child before me but I know that you'll be looking after them and telling them all about me. I love you so much Grandad, you will always be my world, I hope one day I'll feel like I've made you proud.

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This is going to be a very short blog post as I'm not mentally well enough to put all my focus into this, hence why I've not posted on my blog in a long time; so here goes nothing.

Over the past few months but especially this month I've had plenty of trips to A&E, one for physical reasons due to me not eating and passing out so needed to be checked out to make sure there's nothing too concerning going on. Thankfully there isn't so I can carry on the way I am, especially since I'm not able to get help with my eating disorder. On the other hand, there have been numerous times that I've had to go to A&E for mental health reasons, due to me overdosing; but again everything's fine and professionals are 0% concerned with my behaviour so .... we know what's gonna be coming.

Furthermore, I'm starting Intermediate Support to try and "improve my life and make plans for my future", those who know me know what I think about that. This came after Adult Social Care refused to help me, so this is the next option; I also got told that I couldn't use the Mind Crisis Cafes until I'm at crisis point and everyone was agreeing. This is a load of rubbish as the cafes were my safe place and I'd use to prevent a crisis, I then refused to go for nearly two weeks as I felt abandoned and unwanted, even when I was a crisis, I was refusing to go because why would I go when clearly they don't want me there. This then got changed to "no you can use the cafes but there has to be a reason"; however, the trust had already been broken so now I feel I don't belong and that they don't want me there or even like me, so yeah, won't be going back there.

I've now been told that basically, I need to not use the cafe and use PCART (don't we all know how s*** they are) and what happens when their not open, I'm then screwed. I also got the feeling A didn't want to be there as she turns up 1 hour late and then says I've got 5 minutes. So in that time I'm trying to get her to read what I wrote as I couldn't say it and it's been agreed by C and A that I can do that but A takes none of it so I told her what I want to do and she turns round to me and says (no joke) "do we have to talk about this today or can it wait until next week". I'm sorry what, I just told you what I've planned and you say that. She also stated that she can't stop me from doing that if I want to do it.

Overall, I'm finally done with mental health services, I'm not gonna go to my appointment because why should I when she clearly doesn't give two s**** about me. It's just wasting all our time when I could be off doing other stuff. S*** is gonna hit the fan but if professionals don't care then neither do I.

To finish on a positive note: I'm now 3 months and 5 days self-harm free. The longest I've gone without self-harming is 4 months and that was back in 2016, so let's see if I can get back up to this.
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I know it's been a while since I've written on my blog and that's due to the fact that I've not been in the best of places recently, so I thought I'd do a little update, along with blogging being a way to distract myself from my thoughts.

To be honest, I've hit rock bottom, I've not felt this low since May 2017. I've stopped writing on here, I've stopped writing in my diary, I've stopped journaling; quite honestly I've stopped everything that used to help me cope and I know that I should start it all back up again but due to my eating disorder getting quite bad again, I've just not had the energy to do so. Things have just got to the point where I feel so empty and most of my days are filled with doing nothing, I'm just staying in bed watching Netflix because I've little energy to do anything else.

I've still not started my new job and at the moment I'm not sure when that will happen as I've told them that I can't do it right now due to my mental health. 15 hour shifts are a lot and with the way, I'm feeling at the moment, I feel that I'll get worse so for my own sake I had to make the hard decision to put it all on pause.

In terms of how things are with services, well...


I asked the Crisis Cafe if it would be possible to stay at The Warren for a bit since as PCART won't let me return to the Eating Disorder Service or even let me go back to counselling and C agreed that it would be a good thing so organised me going to have a look around to see what I thought of it. However, it would all come down to my SCM Worker at PCART.

Can you guess what she said?

That's right she said a big fat NO!!!!

Her reasoning was that she doesn't think it's the right time with my risk being so high and you can't self-harm or overdose while you are there (well that was the whole point in going is to stop me doing that stuff and make sure that I am safe while I try and sort my shit out). Furthermore, she believes that I wouldn't want to leave due to my home life but I know and fully accept that this isn't a long term place, I can only stay there short term (1 week). I now just keep thinking "when is the right time? When I'm dead?"

On the other hand, she did do a few positive things such as she's putting in a referral to hopefully help me get out of my parents as it's a toxic place to be and having my own space will be beneficial to my mental health. She has also set up a meeting with me, her and C from the crisis cafe to adjust my safety plan along with trying to come up with a plan on how the cafe can support me better, e.g. when I'm feeling really low and I'm not able to ask to talk then they will be able to come to me and ask if I'm ok; along with not just ignoring my signs, but acknowledging that I'm struggling and helping me through them.

This all came after having the shittest few weeks ever. 4th March was meant to be Little Roo's due date, which I found so much harder than I thought and had my first mental breakdown since May last year. Then this week I've cried Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday; quite honestly don't know how I've got tears left. Tuesday I just had enough and ended up having the Crisis Cafe send me up to the hospital after an overdose. Hospital Crisis Liaison was so bad and just told me to ring PCART and go to the Cafe Wednesday; after refusing to go to the cafe and not ringing PCART I finally turned up at the cafe around 20:00 but wasn't able to talk to staff, and they just blanked me completely. I know they were waiting for me to talk but the fact they knew I wasn't ok but chose to ignore it just made me feel ten times worse. Furthermore, I rang CATTS that night too and ended up having another mental breakdown because he was shit and said that I had to ring PCART the next day and I've got to keep myself safe but it's my choice if I choose to take pills to try to kill myself.

How fucking helpful, NOT!!!!

So I think that's basically the update. Oh also, I've nearly finished College; this Thursday is my last day and I'm actually gonna be so sad when it finishes as it's like the only thing that keeps me going at the moment.
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Time for a positive post now.


Last Tuesday I had a phone call asking me if I wanted to go on the radio with C (NHFT) and another service user from the cafe to talk about the Mind Crisis Cafes. I was still half asleep but agreed to do it. It was all short notice so I didn't have time to think about it alot or even have the chance to change my mind. I went to the cafe that night to speak about what it was all about and when we were doing it. That's when my anxiety began to grow and I kept overthinking everything about it, what it was going to be like; what questions they were going to be asked and what I was even going to say.

Wednesday came around and I'd only managed to get two hours sleep which didn't help with my anxiety but I knew I had to step out of my comfort zone and do this; I knew it wouldbe a great opportunity and I was lucky to be aasked to do the radio interview. Me and Chloe met at the shop and got a taxi to northampton which took us straight to the radio station rather than where we were meant to be meeting with C (NHFT).

We were all so anxious to record our part for Time To Talk Day (Thursday 7th February); omg were we anxious. Part of us didin't want to go in, we just wanted to go home but we took our time, encouraged eachother and walked in, the staff were lovely even though we were so nervous. Helen who was interviewing us was lovely at helping us feel welcome and settle us in, telling us that it'd be just like a chit chat and would be over quicker than we knew.

You have this massive mic in front of your face which was kinda off putting but we had a laugh and got straight into the questions. At times it was personal questions about what was going on for me and Chloe at the time that we started going to the cafe. C did her part too and overall it felt so quick and wasn't as bad as we orignally thought. On the Thursday when our recording was put on the radio I was so scared to hear it as I didn't know what it would sound like and honestly I forgot what I said, but you know what? it wasn't bad and we all sounded great.

The overall experience was absoultely amazing and even though it was so scary it was also a great opportunity. It still hasn't sunk in that we were on the radio but I can honestly say that it was one of my best memories, if someone had asked me to go on the radio a year ago or even a couple of months ago I would've said "jog on, there's no chance in hell that I'd go on the radio and talk" but wow am I glad I did. The Crisis Cafe have saved my life on many occasions and have been a safe place for me to go when I've been low. It's been the place where I'd hand in the harmful stuff and somewhere to have a laugh and meet new people; I've met some amazing people there and some I can even call my friends; my confidence has grown so much over the past 9 months and may I say that the self harm and suicide attempts have decreased, they've not completely stopped but I'm working on that. Before I went to the Mind Crisis Cafe I was attempting at least twice a month and self harming daily and now I can manage more positively, yes I still struggle and at times have blips and need medical attention but no where near as much as I used to and that's all thanks to the support from the Mind Support Workers S, T and S and from C the NHFT Worker. I'm so proud of all three of us; C (NHFT), Chloe and myself for how well we did, stepping out of our comfort zone and facing our fears. It was such an amazing thing to do to spread awareness of Mental Health and encourage others to visist a Mind Crisis Cafe so that they can get the help they deserve too.

Here is what Chloe had to say about the whole experience:

"I thought it was an amazining opportunity for us both, it was such a privilege to be asked to go on the radio interview with one of the NHFT Workers with the Crisis Cafe. The Crisis Cafe has done alot for alot of people and I will urge anyone that is struggling to go and use the cafe. The cafe have saved my life on many occasions, and just being on the radio gave myself and Kerrie an opportunity to speak about Mental Health and potentially helping another Mental Health Service User. We was open about how we were feeling and that was great. I'm proud of us both xx"


If you would like to listen to the radio inerview, I've included the link below:

https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/p06y1892






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Firstly, I’d like to say a massive thank you to Špela Kranjec and Žiga Kranjec c for giving me this opportunity to support this amazing book, when Žiga came emailed me about this opportunity I jumped at the chance. As we know I suffer from anorexia myself, therefore, this is something that is close to my heart and means so much that eating disorders are being spoken about through the stories of survivors. Eating Disorders affect so many people and no matter how big or small you are it’s all just as serious, it’s mental health, it’s about your thinking and behaviours around food and not what you weigh. I wish that someday that can be understood by everyone, even within the medical profession this isn’t always understood.

This book is all about the author Špela who suffered from anorexia for 9 years. She grew up as a happy child until she was in school as she grew older her shyness became an issue for her, she became lonely and needed something back in her life. Špela began to exercise and lost weight, people around her noticed her more, little did she know that she had already become obsessed with weight and healthy foods, to the point that she’d starve herself to an incredibly low weight. At this point, her parents said “enough!” Appointments with doctors, made to eat, being weighed, her life was turned to hell. The long and difficult journey had begun for Špela, she perceived herself to be different due to her different goals and priorities, but it’s ok to be different.


Things got worse from there for Špela, she was so unhappy with her life that she wasn’t living, the only way she knew to solve this was to continue to lose weight. During the worse time of anorexia, the thoughts became so controlling that she became more and more lonely as the days went by. No one was able to stop her from this destructive path, the moment she felt the cold floor against her body, she knew that it had got so bad that she would die if there wasn’t a change. “That scared me! Death scared me!”

What did Špela do?

She wrote this book, marking off all the labels she’d had over the years. It was an incredibly challenging battle but it made her into the person she is today, strong and capable woman ready to take on any challenge life throws her way.


Notice Me: My 9-Year Struggle Against Anorexia 







The aim of this book is to give others the opportunity to save themselves because many are dying from an eating disorder everyday. To give people the chance to love somebody and share memories with them. To enjoy times with friends and family, to succeed in life rather than being hidden from the world due to their eating disorder.

To read more about Špela, visit the blog: https://www.notice-me.net/blogs/

If you would like to read a free chapter of this book then please feel free: https://www.notice-me.net/free-chapter-reading/

Finally, what would be incredibly helpful and appreciated by Špela is if you could support the book and spread awareness about eating disorders by donating to “Kickstarter” to help translate this book into English so it can be shared around the world. You can give with or without a reward, it’s entirely up to you and how much you can afford to give. Different amounts can get you different rewards, to have a look or to donate please follow this link: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/spelakranjec/notice-me-my-9-year-struggle-against-anorexia










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I've realised that not many people know what activated charcoal is used for in hospitals and what it actually does. I've had to have activated charcoal twice and honestly, it's the most disgusting thing.

So activated charcoal can be used for many different things, as a face mask, to whiten teeth, etc. Within the hospital, it is a black powder substance that is mixed with water to expand it's absorption surface, once it's mixed together it's given to the patient to drink and let me tell you it's two cups worth and you have to drink every drop of it. Staff stand there and watch you drink it and make sure it's all gone.

The reason it's given to the patient is due to poisoning, either through chemicals or a drug overdose. What activated charcoal does is absorb the drugs swallowed, in my case, it was used to absorb the pills I'd overdosed with. It pushes the drugs through the gut quicker, reducing the amount that's absorbed into the body.

Basically saving your life !!

Effects of drinking activated charcoal are nausea and vomiting due to the gritty feeling. Vomiting from the drugs being removed from the body, this usually happens when you're drowsy from the drugs.

Both times I've had this, I was sick for days, you have little energy and stay in bed all day. The first time I had this, I went work the next day but it was extremely exhausting as all my energy was gone. Activated Charcoal is so gritty and hard to drink but I'm also grateful to the hospital staff, the second time I had this drink was the most severe.

My psychologist took me to hospital seeing that I was getting worse, couldn't talk, drowsy, feeling sick and just 'not with it'. I never knew how serious it was until last week when I was told that I nearly died due to what I took and if the treatment was delayed then things would be so different. I still can't get my head around what I was told as I never knew it was that serious, I was lucky to not be sectioned and just get away with being sick for days and being referred to a service that would actually help me. At this time I was under UCAT, they had rung me the day before and I told them what I was going to do, and all they said was they'd give me a meeting 3 weeks later, refusing to acknowledge what I had just said or even take it seriously. The next day was when I was in the hospital after an overdose and now to be told I nearly died. Well, I hope UCAT change how they deal with people saying they're gonna end their life because if they took me seriously and gave me the help I deserved then I wouldn't have been in the hospital with such a severe overdose that could've cost me my life.

Once again I'm so grateful to the hospital staff that saved my life and since then all the support from the staff at the Crisis Cafe, who've saved my life many times since then. I'm nowhere near recovered and I have days where I want out but I know that fighting is the only option as C won't let there be a repeat of what happened in May.
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On 28th September 2017

I wasn't coping with what happened when I was sexually assaulted, I heard nothing from the police and all I wanted was for the pain to end, all the flashbacks to disappear, to be able to not hate my body every time I saw my reflection.

I knew that in order for it to end I needed to end it all.

There I was....standing at the bridge, trying to find the strength to follow through.

In that one moment, everything just slowed down, my whole life in a split second. The cars below seemed to be slow, every minute that went by felt like hours. In that one moment everything was so dreamy, it was like I left my body and was watching my whole life, everything that lead me to the edge, nothing else seemed to matter anymore, all I could think of was jumping, for it to be over.

I hated what that man did to me, but somehow I couldn't blame him. I felt it was all my fault, that somehow I deserved what happened to me. No one seemed to care, the police sent a male to interview me. Why did they think that was a good idea after what happened?

I believed that was it.... the end.

Then I suddenly couldn't do it, something stopped me. I believe that my Grandad was there in spirit, that he talked me out of it, he knew I had so much more to give in life and that it wasn't going to be the end for me.

I walked away, partly feeling terrible that I couldn't do it but partly grateful at the same time.

3 months later the police contacted me and told me that they weren't going to prosecute as there wasn't enough evidence to convict him. But they'd file it so if he did it again they had a case, oh how I  felt so much guilt, the fact he was FREE, I felt that I should've done more to get him locked away so he couldn't do it to someone else.

To this day I go through times of regret that I didn't end it but also glad I didn't, as so much good has happened since then. I've reconnected with old friends, I graduated from university, I'm in a job that I absolutely love, working with learning difficulties and mental health and I'm working towards getting my qualification in counselling so I can persue my dream of being a counsellor or psychologist.

I can't believe it's been a year since I was at the edge. Not gonna lie, it's not been easy and at times it's been tough but I can honestly say I'll never go to the edge again. It was a real eye opener that night and I'm glad I survived.
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I've been gone for a while now. To be honest it's because my mental health took a turn for the worst, social media and blogging has been the last things I've wanted to do.

So here's an update.

I had a UCAT assessment in July where they checked my physical health, blood tests came back abnormal but my doctor refused to double check it. UCAT stated that I needed long-term term support so referred me to PCART.

PCART hadn't got in contact with me. C and L at the Crisis Cafe's had contacted them on many occasions via email, phone and in person to get them to do my assessment. When I was in the hospital in August, hospital staff also asked PCART to do my assessment; it took PCART nearly two months to get in touch with me and all they said was "sorry we missed you from the list". Why thanks, that fills me with so much hope. Once I finally got an appointment for my assessment they asked me all these questions and asked if I had any type of personality disorder in which I said no and they agreed that I didn't. They then turn round and said "we can't offer you SCM or any other therapy/support as you don't have a PD. I'll be discharging you within a week". Let's just remember that PCART stands for Preventative Care And Recovery Team, not Personality Disorder.

At this same time, my Eating Disorder Psychologist sent a letter to me saying she was going to discharge me now that I'm getting support from PCART. So I was left without any support, I felt so alone and felt that no one wanted to help, all the services didn't care because "I'm not sick enough". After this, I refused to go to the Crisis Cafes as I felt I clearly didn't deserve the support and that really there was nothing wrong with me.

Fast forward to September, I went back to the Crisis Cafe and once C saw that I'd been discharged from all services she couldn't believe it. She really thought PCART would help. She's the one that got me referred to UCAT and PCART, C is the one that took care of getting me the support I needed. C knew things had started to get bad again, they all knew as I'd not been to the cafe in weeks, I became less talkative, hiding how I truly felt, became isolated, stopped eating and became suicidal all over again after doing so well.

C became worried about me and got me referred back to the Eating Disorder Sevice as she saw I was dropping weight and had an unhealthy mindset. She was also trying to find out why services had refused me the support. So she set up a meeting, herself, PCART, ED Service and some others, so that they could sort out what was going to happen. I would show C my notebook as I couldn't openly talk about how I was feeling and once she read what I'd put she became extremely worried especially after I wrote some vital information. She made copies of my notebook so she could take them to the meeting.

Thursday 20th September was my referral meeting back at the ED service where she told me that if PCART agree to help then she'd be discharging me again as she doesn't feel I'm ready to face my eating disorder, so once again I'm discharged from there.

Friday 21st September was the meeting C set up. She rang me after work and told me the outcome of the meeting and said that nothing had really been decided but they want me to see someone and get re-diagnosed as my doctor hadn't written on my NHS records any of my mental health disorders.

Tuesday 2nd October I've got to go to the Crisis Cafe to have an assessment with C and PCART to see what's going to happen from here. I don't have much hope as the services have broken my trust so they'll have to work hard to gain that back. I don't want to go as I just know what they'll say. But C said she'll be there so she can make sure that I tell the truth about how I'm feeling and if I don't then she can tell them the truth but I just know they won't help, just like before.
This is a long post but it basically sums up what's been going on for me recently.
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One Whole Year!!
I've been dreading this day for a while now, I didn't want to be here for it because I knew how much I'd struggle. The way this event has affected me over this past year is horrible, I've self-harmed, restricted my food intake, abused my body and made attempts on my life. Physically I'm recovered from that night, mentally I've not, and I'm still a long way off being recovered.

That night one year ago, everything changed. He ignored the "no" "leave me alone" "get off me", etc; he didn't care about what he was doing, he didn't care that I didn't give consent, he didn't care that there was CCTV, he did what HE wanted to do.

On a daily basis, I'm affected by what he did, either through flashbacks or when I look in the mirror. I've learnt to hate my body more than ever, when I see myself in the mirror, I see what he did, I see his face. At work I see him there, I see the site where it happened. Reminders are everywhere, I can't escape.

My trust in men was broken and I still struggle at times with men. There are only a few men I trust enough in my life and they're helping me regain that trust.

This man is FREE!!

He's out there living his life FREELY, FREE of consequences, FREE of reminders, FREE of self-torture, FREE of any criminal charges. 

I'm TRAPPED!!

TRAPPED with self-hate, TRAPPED with flashbacks, TRAPPED with self-torture, TRAPPED with the reminders, TRAPPED with feeling him touching me, TRAPPED with seeing his face, TRAPPED with panic attacks when around men, I'm TRAPPED with full consequences.

I've had split reactions to this, most are supportive and help me through my tough times but I've also had those negative people that like to make out I'm wrong, that it's fake, that I lied, or that I asked for it. Well you spend one day in my head and then you'll see what truly happened, you'll get to feel how I feel. Going back to the site almost every day is a struggle, having to see his face, feeling him on me, feeling he'll be just around the corner, to hurt me again.

I wouldn't even wish this on my worst enemy as its horrible.

That night I DIDN'T ask for it, I DIDN'T dress SLUTTY, in fact, I was wearing joggers, top, jacket and my coat, the complete opposite of what is the stereotype.  Consent WASN'T given, not in the slightest, the police ask you the question "was there any consent given, even the smallest amount?" oh how I hate that, it made me feel like it was my fault. The lack of support from services made me feel like I weren't worthy of help, that I didn't matter.

I hate knowing this man is FREE, that he can be out there doing it to someone else. I blame myself that I couldn't do more to get him prosecuted, maybe if I remembered more or if I could remember even the smallest thing, maybe then there'd be enough evidence. If only the CCTV could pick things up in the dark but it can't, It can't see things once it gets dark, it's a bit useless.
 

NO MEANS NO

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Now we know what happened on the 4th May; I can now start explaining the rest, I'll put a Trigger Warning on the post as it contains content about suicide.

Before my mental breakdown I had planned that I was going to take my life on the 18th May ( 2 years after my Grandad passed away). I'd been declining for a while and I just didn't want to live anymore. Once everything with my mental breakdown happened I said F*** it, I'll kill myself the day before so I don't have to even see sunrise.
17th May 2018
I went university and then went to the cemetary to visit my Sisters and my Grandads grave, knowing I'd be with them soon and that gave me so much peace. I knew I'd be going home and taking my life. It was just happening a day eariler than originally planned so it should be easy right?? I knew exactly what I was going to do. That night I took and overdose and self-harmed on my leg, it was all under weigh and under control, until my leg wouldn't stop bleeding, I'd gone deep and I started to feel sick and dizzy.

No matter what I did, I couldn't get it to stop, I thought S*** I'm gonna have to tell my parents what I did, I was scared at how they were going to react.

I contacted a friend that could drive and he took me to hospital and stayed with me all night.

I got to hospital around 9pm, the nurse practioner was lovely but wouldn't let me leave. They didn't say but I think I was on a high risk so if I attempted to leave they'd call the police. I had my cut stitched as it was "seriously deep". I then got admitted to another ward as the nurse practioner said as I'm gonna be there for a while I'd have to be admitted there, where they can supervise me. In this area I had my obs done and bloods taken, had to wait 4 hours from taking the pills to getting the bloods taken and then 1 and a half hours for the results so 2:30am, I didn't get my results until 3:45am as they had to get them double checked. 

Once the doctor medically cleared me I had to wait for the Crisis Liaison Team to come and see me, they came aroun 4:15am and spoke to me about what was going on and why I decided to make an attempt on my life. They then said they were going to get me back into counselling by the following week as they believed it'd be able to help me cope with my emotions and what was going on.

Once we finished and she said I was safe to go home I just had to wait for the doctor to discharge me which felt like forever. 5am I got discharged from hospital and was aloowed to go home.

18th May 2018
Unfortunately I made it to the 2nd anniversary of my Grandad's death, I failed. I felt horrible that I made it to this day, I hated myself. I felt both mentally and psyically sick. I missed my appointment with J my mental health advisor at the uni, she starting ringing me and my home phone and when she had no response from me because I was driving she called my psychologist. Once I got to my psychologist she told me I had people worried and told me that J rang her with her concerns. S my psychologist spoke to me about what happened the night before and asked on a scale of 1-10, 1 being unlikely and 10 being very likely, what were the chances I'd make another attempt on my life.

I said 5, after talking a bit more with S she turns round and says that she doesn't think it's a 5 but rather a 8 or 9. She believed that it was highly likely that I'd make another attempt and in my head I knew she wasn't wrong, I knew I would but I didn't want to tell her that.

She rang UCAT to try and get me some support for the weekend and over the next week and then we got on with remembering my Grandad and writing down memories I blocked out because they were too painful for me to remember.

Once I got home I missed the phone call from UCAT as I was outside with mum, and my mood was so low and anxiety too bad that I couldn't call them back. Work rang me to talk about my Sunday shift and they knew something was wrong, they didn't want to talk about my Grandad as they knew that would upset me but they knew something was wrong.


Over the next week things just got worse....
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