Birthday Beats

To cut a long story short:

I am still 25. Brighton. Breakfast. Hailstones. Sarcophagus. Skeletons. Sunshine. Cocktails. Rain. Arcade. Football. A horrible fishcake. Nightclub. Argument. Return to London alone. Bad song. Spiral. Overdose. Hypothermia. Footsteps. Men everywhere. I’m not safe. Blackout. Ambulance. Blackout. Hospital. Blackout. Confusion. Adrenaline. Fight or flight. Flight. Try to go outside for a cigarette. Hard to walk. No balance. Lockjaw. Pins and needles. Stalked, cornered, then assaulted by police officer. “Nobody is coming to help you. Nobody will believe a word you say. You can’t call the police on the police.” “Get the fuck off me.” Call for backup. Lots of people grabbing me. Hit police officer. Blackout. Wake up. Scared of policeman. Get told by nurse that “some people are actually unwell and need [my] bed.” Agree. Apologise for taking up their time. Try to leave. Dragged back by staff. Cigarettes and lighter have been stolen. Phone is dead. Kindle is missing. Try to leave. Followed by nurses. Get as far as the bus stop. Dragged a long way back by monstrous security guards. Kicking and screaming. You have no right to keep me here. Get off me. Let me go. Why are you doing this to me? You have no right. You’re hurting me. Please stop hurting me. You have no right. Hospital corridor. Quiet. Bastard security bully boys and the policeman who called me a slut. They are three times my size. Big bastard men. Built like brick shithouses. Hands everywhere. Grabbing at my bare breasts. The sound of my wrist cracking. Please get off me. A shove. Lying on floor. Can’t move. Cold floor on my cheek. Hear them mispronouncing my name. Shouting at me to get up. Someone kicks me. Blink. Blackout. Wake up in CT scanner. Head hurts. Hand to back of my head. They shout at me from the other room to stop moving. Blood on my fingers. Blackout. Repeat. We tried to help you but you moved in the scanner so it’s your own fault. What is? Blackout. Wake up in same bed as before. I’m leaving. You cunts hurt me. Look. Look at what you did to me. You have no right. I’m not under section. I know my rights. You can’t keep me here. I’m ill, not a criminal. Security form a human wall to keep me in my unit. I give up. I cry. Please phone my brother. Brother’s phone is broken. I only know one other phone number. I give up. Please phone my mother. Mother is at work. I give up. I will never get out of here alive. Mother arrives. A miracle. Never been so relieved to see her. I tell her they hurt me. Mother is not on my side. I need you on my side. Get me out of here. I’m begging you. Clean yourself up, you look a mess. I smell really gross. Don’t worry, I have no sense of smell anymore. Please get me out of here. We leave. As easy at that. You saved me. I can’t look after you. I know. Mum, they hurt me. I know. They wouldn’t give me water or let me go to the toilet. My head hurts. Home. Traumatised. Wish I’d died. Turn phone on. Nobody, nothing. Panic attacks. Too weak to wash. Bloody, bruised, broken, bed. Nightmares of the bully boys. Wake up screaming. I am 26. I wish I died. Injuries are bad. They really hurt me. Phone care coordinator. I was just reading the report. They hurt me. They had no right. Was I under section? No. Not even section 5 holding? No. So them stopping me from leaving…? Was against the law. Against the law. Yes. I knew it. I’m so sorry they did that to you. I never saw a doctor. I know. I never had a mental health assessment. I know. I never even saw a member of the mental health team even for a second. I know. They just punished me, they fucked me up. I know. I will never come back from this. Don’t say that. It’s true. I will never come back from this. If, with the benefit of hindsight, I had the choice between dying in the street in the freezing cold, and those 12 hours in hospital, I’d choose the former, without a doubt. They really hurt me. I know. They were supposed to help me, to keep me safe. They did the opposite. They had no right. I know. I’m sorry.

10 thoughts on “Birthday Beats

  1. I once met the smartest woman I’ve ever known in the lunatic ward. She had a scar between her eyes and said the police had opened up her third eye. You my friend have that curse of seeing too much in a devolved world. You see the corruption. Where care becomes attack. It’s why I trained as a psychotherapist to fucking help but the system was broken. To be abused by the very people meant to help. There’s no OK for that. Despite everything you shine. And that’s what I know. The PTSD of experiences like that is incalculable. Just know how much you mean to me and others. Your phone is never nothing. We wait for a word from you and would return with a hundred more.

    • Oh bub, it takes all sorts to make a world. Thank you for always supporting me, it means so so so so so much xxxxxxx

  2. I’m so sorry they treated you like that. My father had me dragged into an ambulance and thrown in an institution when I was 27. They treated me with such scorn and disrespect there, but nothing compared to what you went through. Sometimes writing is the only way through huh? Stay strong HLR.

    • Oh gosh Nitin, I’m so sorry to hear of your experience. It’s so awful that people who were supposed to help us did the complete opposite. Indeed it seems that writing is the way forward for us both. Thank you for the support, you’re a star xx

  3. Holy fuck, that’s some crazy ass shit! Hope everything’s calmed the fuck down now.

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