Living life on the borderline

Oh no. No, no, no.

Posted on: March 13, 2010

Had my CPA review this week. Consultant psychiatrist, keyworker, family therapist and psychologist was there, as well as my local CAMHS team. Walking into a room of professionals (“authorities” as my psychotherapist called them, including quotation marks) was possibly one of the most frightening moments of my life.

I must here remark on the way the doctor can go 50 flippin’ miles round a question in order to avoid answering, I must have asked the same question 10 different ways and got taken 10 different ways around it. I was asked to be assertive – I attempted being assertive and was basically told I was being aggressive to get my own way. I couldn’t win. So me being me burst into tears, almost shouting at the lot of them that they thought just because they had degrees, they thought they could play God, didn’t listen to patients, stuck up &*^”*&%¬£. The meeting was closed and I was taken back to the unit, where I promptly spewed verbal abuse about the mental health profession to any ear, listening or not.

Lovely. Probably not the best way of handling it, but you know. So my diagnosis is now “mild depression”. Or possibly a personality disorder, but I’m too young to be diagnosed with that. And I can’t discharge myself.

I used to really trust my CAMHS team but after they were all treating me like an idiot, I don’t anymore. I don’t trust any of them. And I probably sound terribly bitchy but you had to be in the meeting to truly understand what was happening. I don’t want to be discharged back to the CAMHS team. I don’t want anything to do with any of them.

La de da de da.


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About the blogger.

I'm an 18 year old girl/woman/person of the female gender who blogs about growing up, living with mental health problems and her experience with the NHS mental health services, both CAMHS and CMHTs. Expect plenty of teenage angst and general craziness. Nothing out of the ordinary here.

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