Another day, another race, racing against time, time on my side, with no time to spare... That constant digging; digging at my physic, at every perceivable angle, untold amount of times... Not trying to come across all knowing, but as the many times I succumbed to my emptiness, the more varied my problems become... At least now I know there is a solution to most problems; no matter how deep they lay...
My aim now is to keep an eye on those conflicts that seem to manifest; and grow, the longer I leave them; the more I ignore them, like Ivey growing from the ground up... my mission is to recognize these unwanted 'Lems' (Problems) before they attach; and become a part of me…
Those five nightmarish words “He’s Been Admitted to Hospital” OR “She’s Been Admitted to Hospital” really bare down heavy on the physic… all be it like an unwanted prison sentence, but unlike a Prison sentence, there is no fixed time and date of release... setting the two; Hospital; and Prison; poles apart from each other…
You can ask any Man OR Woman, who has had a spell in Prison OR an enforced stay on a Psychiatric ward, what was it like for them inside…And you will hear good stories; as well as untold amount of horror stories of people (after all we are people) having to adjust, from weeks; months; years away from their loved ones; and friends.
You might turn around and say to such a person…you committed the crime; and criminals get punished for committing crimes (as we well know…).
But what do you say to a person sectioned OR simply hospitalized through stress and strain of modern life..?
I had been going back and forth into hospital, caught up in the revolving doors, three months there; a section; and lock up here, to be exact I was in; and out of hospital five times…between 1994- to 2000.
After being released from a section around 1998 I was offered A space in a 3 bedroom shared house accommodation in Wimbledon Chase… each one of us were designated our own food store cupboard, so as nobody can accidentally eat away at your weekly food shop;
I was only there for six months I remember the house being very un-lived in lonely, even thou two other people lived there… it was like I had been put there to see out the rest of my days… a sickly feeling I had never experienced before…with so much time on my hands, I even contemplate suicide…
Fortunately my Key-worker Kate was there for me, the majority of the time…a phone call away- so to speak… Something had to give…then one morning I woke to catch one of the other men in the houseeating my food…I haven’t got loads of money now; but back then things were a lot worse financially …So what did I do…?
I lost the plot…screaming my head off, making the situation worse; I end up smashing the large street front room window…
Unfortunately for me; minutes after smashing the street window, the local housing officer turns up for a house inspection visit… not good…within two hours of waking up, I’m now being told that I will have to leave the house; (I had lived in for the past 6 months….) and leave that very morning…I was in deep hot water (so to speak)… So I made my way to the local social service offices, explaining to Pat (the social service point of contact) the situation I now find myself in, for over reacting…
I sat in the reception area of the social services for three hours, as they busily rung around hostels; and other shared living accommodations in the Wimbledon; Merton area…
By lunch time it becomes obvious to Pat; and other members of the social services, that we had come against a brick wall; and all the temporary housing spaces in the Merton area were full to the hilt…And worryingly, my only other option (apart from sleeping rough on the streets) was to go back into Springfield Hospital…
And that is what I did, done… until a space came available in my local Hospital Atkinson and Morley Hospital (A.M.H.) triggering off s whole year stay in a psychiatric ward… waiting for a secure place to live..
Whilst on the ward, I had a weekly counseling session, in an attempt to get to the root, of why my life had spun out of control… It soon became evident, that having a place to live, would become the focal point, in getting my life back on track…
But as much as we tried, we were unable to find a place suitable for my needs… With the help of the Wimbledon Community Mental Health Team (CMHT) applying to various housing agency’s; and numerus Landlord owned flats…
Unfortunately the constant disappointments; rejections and the failure of not being able to secure a permanent place to call home, added to my mental Health state.
I had been in Hospital before, but had a habit of relapsing, every time I was released back into the (socalled) community… falling foul to the familiar temptations available to me; and a lot of people on the outside; the Alcohol; Drug' consumption; ending up sleeping on somebody’s sofa’s (sofa surfing) for a night or two…
I never realized at the time, that residing in ropey bed-sit type accommodations; some no bigger than a broom-room cupboard (at best) was directly adding to my Mental Health issues.
I was locked; and somewhat trapped in a Depressive cycle…a cycle I don’t blame anybody else for… maybe I just choose/ OR, I was directed towards the wrong type of help (for me, at that given time…)but I had no other options for the time being… so I went along with it all…with no light at the end of the tunnel in sight...
During my stay in Atkinson and Morley (A.M.H.) I did have the occasional visit from family…not my mum or dad, as they had by now retired; and left the home they built in England; re-convening in the Caribbean...apart from a weekly Sunday phone call; and the (not so) special occasions; Birthday; and Christmas, this was my only real contact with my parents…
The times I was able to secure Day-leave, I would visit my eldest daughter; and her Mother, but they as
well were rare occasions, my problems revolved around, the little structure to my life; my poor concentration; making sitting on a bus for an hour near on impossible…The pressure to snap out of this doom; and gloom cycle was immense (and still is).
By now I hadn’t seen my mum; or dad for around five years. It was tough, but the optimist in me knew, that come one day, I would save enough money, to travel; and eventually see my parents...
For now I had to keep my head down and stay out of trouble. The so-called revolving doors, I found myself caught up in, was (I hoped) coming to an end…I had to find a way of breaking through the depression spell.
Not in my wildest dreams, would I have imagined myself staying 1 whole year in the rehab program at the Atkinson Morley Hospital (A.M.H) on Copse Hill, Wimbledon Village… a one corridor long design;
psychiatric; and eating disorder unit, then known as Curran ward; and Baily ward (respectively).
I stayed there for a year, for one main reason… being, I did not want to go back to that pit dot; dot bedsit I lived in, before getting re-admitted… were that man stole my food; and I reacted overtop; leading me to smash the large house window; then being evicted from the house…
Towards the end of my year long stay I had to re-learn certain life skills to help me survive before moving back into the community…
My then key-worker, would sit me down, with a pen and paper, where I would write a shopping list; she then gave me a Ten pound note, She would then drive me to the shops, instructing me two buy two meals; and two deserts...
After the shop my Key-worker and myself would drive to her Offices where they have a small kitchen attached, I would then proceed to chop; and prepare the two different meals; and desert…
"you would be surprised at how easy it is to forget to do the basics when somebody else does it all for you, day in day out"
A budgeting exercise… but you would be surprised at how easy it is to forget to do the basics when somebody else does it all for you, day in day out…?
by Boris