Crisis

So....your GP informs you he has spoken to a lovely, sensible lady who wants to come up with a decent plan to support you. They will phone you to discuss.

Midnight arrives and you hear a hammering at your door as 2 people turn up unannounced and don't listen to anything you say.

They've read your notes and assume your children are on a child protection plan and that you are having group therapy. Neither are true and are judgements based on documentation that is disputed by other professionals. They do not seem to believe that nothing recently has triggered this and seem to think it's some whim and you've now changed your mind. There is nothing they can offer. Phone if you need to.

They repeat the same over and over. Go into therapy with an open mind. Call us and we will help you. Followed by that  there is nothing they can do to help you.

You tell them you have missed your opportunity for now. You are tired. You are fed up of being judged and belittled. You agree they cannot help you. That is the point.

No support. No real reassurance or plan. Don't kill yourself, go to psychology and speak to your care coordinator. It's unreasonable to expect an experienced mental health professional to read behind the lines, take time to ask the right questions.

So there we go. 2 worried and kind professionals who desperately want to help but can't. A team of people who always make me feel worse and like a failure.  They wonder why I don't bother.

This is mental health care in Britain. This is why people die. This is why GPs, health visitors and social workers end up becoming ill themselves because they care but there are no services to support them.  The people who are supposed to help are so run into the ground they lose compassion and try not to uncover anything that may be difficult to deal with because they don't have time.

This is why I left my job. No time to care. Feeling stretched between what you are trained to do and what you are paid to do. The latter being very different from why you made this career choice.

I understand disillusionment. I've lived it. My friends are suffering and I know that my conscientious carers will have taken home their worry, just as I used to do because there is just no where to pass it on to.