Skip to main content

The freedom that comes with being a difficult patient

Over the past few weeks I've drafted a lot of different ways of tweeting this. It's never come out under the character limit so it's my first blog post instead!

There is something remarkably freeing about being the "difficult" patient.

I used to try so hard to please the professionals who were involved in my care that I'd crack under the pressure and give up trying to improve my mental health. I'd smile and pretend things were working even when they weren't, I'd take everything every professional said to be completely true and it would break me, time and time again. It's no secret that some professionals can be especially rude, and I've had more than my fair shares horrific experiences with mental health "professionals" bullying me and making me feel like shit. Instead of actually aiming to recover I would get pushed down by the weight of the expectations and I'd end up nearly dead and no better off than when I started time and time again. I'm a people pleaser, I always have been. It's a common trait of autistic women and girls who grew up masking their symptoms and trying to fit in to a world that isn't made for them.

This approach to "recovery" and services wasn't working for me. It was all backwards. The only people who were benefiting from this were the uncaring mental health professionals, and even then they weren't really benefiting from me grinding myself down. There were a few (admittedly questionable) plus sides to this approach. I was never treated like a "typical borderline" by my own care team, if things dipped or I messed up and missed an appointment I was generally cut some slack by my care coordinator and I was once told I was "one of the good ones" by a support worker. But I was drowning, I was stuck in a cycle of fake recovery, pretending things worked to get approval and then crashing.

The more ill I got the more disillusioned with mental health services I became, and then one day something in me just snapped. I changed my whole attitude to the system and it was so freeing. I stopped trying to fit myself into the little boxes that psychiatry demands of it's patients and I started being selfish. If someone asked for my opinion I told them exactly what I thought. Even when the doctors didn't ask for my opinion (they rarely did) I told them exactly what I thought. I stopped pretending that mindfulness and baths was good enough and I told them what I thought of their so called treatment. At one point I even handed my care coordinator an annotated copy of the NICE guidelines for the treatment of people with my diagnosis, and the pathway set out by the trust I was under.

I stopped trying to make friends with the people who were meant to be caring for me and started treating mental health services the way they had been treating me. I set out my expectations for them and told them to figure it out. I wanted to get better, I wanted to stop going to hospital, I wanted to learn how to manage a crisis.

In a perfect world that would have been enough. My attitude shift would have been enough to kick their arses into gear and they would have started actually treating me. Unfortunately it wasn't. Mental health services rarely respond to brutal honesty from their patients. They started calling me manipulative, saying that I had unrealistic expectations of them (my expectations were maybe therapy and just for them to help me a little bit please). They would say that my "attitude" was typical of young borderlines and that they weren't going to treat me if I behaved like that. I was never knowingly rude to them, all I did was stand up for myself. They said that I wasn't complying with treatment so they wouldn't help me (their idea of treatment was mindfulness and call crisis if I start to not feel safe... crisis never picked up the phone to me).

I was crushed. I didn't realise that it would be this difficult to actually get help. The only barrier to me getting better was (and still is) mental health services.

Despite this, I am no longer suffocated by the weight of pleasing professionals in an attempt to get treatment. I know that no matter how many hoops I jump through the bad professionals won't help me, and the good professionals will appreciate my honesty and help me regardless. I have stopped trying to fit into boxes for the sake of psychiatrists. I no longer jump through hoops and stroke egos in the hope that someone will take pity on me and give me the treatment I deserve.

I refuse to bow and scrape in the presence of professionals and there is an undeniable power in that.






Comments

Popular

The truth about Every Mind Matters

May seems to be the month of awareness - Borderline Personality Disorder, Fibromyalgia, and Mental Health are a few of the various campaigns happening right now that are directly relevant to my life. Mental health awareness campaigns tend to be pretty useless if I'm honest, especially for people with severe and enduring mental illnesses. Being vaguely aware of mental health helps absolutely nobody if it's not backed up with real change and funding, and sadly this doesn't happen. I do understand the irony of me saying this whilst also being a proud mental health activist with Young Minds (the UKs leading young person's mental health charity), but the campaigns that Young Minds run are usually pretty solid and do actually create change for the people who need it. On the flip side, a lot of the government campaigns are pretty useless. One that I find particularly insufferable is the Every Mind Matters campaign. While I'm sure the intentions behind it are good i

Unlawful

This time last year I was a mess. A complete and utter suicidal wreck, and exactly a year ago today I was unlawfully detained by the police because of my mental illness. I've had a lot of really positive experiences with the police (and I definitely will write about them soon) but it's a year later and I'm still having the most horrific nightmares about this one. I was absolutely trollied on a bad idea cocktail of a whole bottle of shitty wine and 4 cans of cider, so you'd think I wouldn't remember this but I remember every single detail. I was in a bad way because this time of year is a bad time for my PTSD anyway, and when one of my friends called the police because they were concerned about me I was expecting it to be buisiness as usual. I'd already been detained a couple times that week and mental health services had put together their typical lack-of-care plan for me, which surprisingly was about as useful as a chocolate teapot. From the get go the poli

Why I Talk About Mental Health - StoryCamp 1

I'm taking part in Time To Change's StoryCamp 2020, and the first prompt is to discuss why talking about mental health is important. I'll be honest, this has caught me at a time where I'm re-evaluating how safe I feel talking about my mental health/illness journey online - especially on twitter. The mental health community on social media definitely has its issues, and this is something that needs to be spoken about a lot more - but I'll save that for a different post. So, why do I believe it's important to talk about mental health?  When I first started talking about my mental illness experiences I was just venting on twitter. Back when I had around 300 followers nobody really cared about my opinions or what was happening, it was just nice to scream into the void. Now my follower count has reached over 1300 people sometimes mistake me for somebody who knows something, when in reality I'm still pretty much just screaming into the void! The way I use my voice
09 10