Thread by @Kaiberie

It mostly occurs to me that other than the short rants in here, many of you do not know me on FB (where I explain most of the stuff I’m talking about...sorry, its just where I talk the most!) don’t actually know what’s going on.
I’ve weighed up whether I should share it

A blog post, a thread on here, or make things public in other ways. I’m going for a roundup here, the option to add me on FB to see what’s been going on (it’s horrifying) and blogging, though that may take me a while.
Till then though...

Many people that know me IRL that added me since June actually met me. And I’ve been told in private by many of you that other than striking people as slightly autistic and not great with busy places, that short of needing to be told about it, not many people realised exactly

How ‘incapable’ or ‘disabled’ I really am. A few of you very kindly helped when I panicked, and I kinda get the feeling @Steel_Con would have been the safest space for me to do all I did that weekend anyway.
But since then, I’ve been

(A) formally discharged from mental health care - mostly because I refused to sign an epically bullying contract that even Tempus went ‘hell no’. (B) am dealing with severe psychosis. And just so it’s clearly understood, anyone that thinks that means hospitalisation...

Thank you last few governments, what it means is that you are basically given a poor set of tools, badly tailored, and expected to learn yourself. And I’ve struggled, and was insultingly told that the ‘airgap’ between my intellect and emotions is a ‘personal growth’ issue.

So. (A) and (b) are ongoing. (C) is that I’m not writing, and feel very alone and isolated, and don’t know how to reach out to get involved in stuff, without worrying people feel sorry for me.
The combination of all of that nearly killed me a week ago.

Six days ago, I fell down half of our stairs (scroll back, there’s a immobilisation photo) running away from characters that used to just be....my stories. Who have now turned on me and joined the other voice I’ve always reported.

In amongst all of this I was told that I was ‘effectively’ untreatable. There are no more available treatments in our county, but funnily enough, my partner has told them that they will be to blame for any harm that befalls me (that would be our mental health trust) from her in

And they got in touch with him to offer a medical conversation with us, as we’d requested to happen at the Local resolution meeting (which was a week and a half ago). But the crisis team have also been out to see me and given me antipsychotics (again), and ref. To a neighbouring

County. Whether the accept me or not is another question entirely, but I’ll be honest. I’m really, truly lost right now. The willpower I used not to bolt the building or puke on people at Steelcon when intro’d, I’m now using to just keep away from my meds box during the day.

Whether you call it spoons, slots, willpower, strength of character....any of it. It’s all being used trying to avoid something serious and permanent. And I’m scared, and David and I are all alone in this really, because it’s shaming and painful to even say this.

But it’s out there. I’ll be 40 in November, and I’m very afraid I will not make it. It’s not this win/lose thing. It’s not something I can humanise to relate to. It’s literally my mind, astonishingly smart as someone told me I was at the con, is not willing to keep trying.

I’ve said this a lot in the last few weeks, and forgive me for others dealing with terminal stuff, but when most people re told that treatment has been used up, there are no other options, you cannot be treated any more, it’s mostly a sign that medical science gave it a good punt

But that you are going home...to die. When you are told there is nothing more anyone can do for you....and they know you have a voice convincing you that you’re a waste of space as is..it’s not a safe or clever thing to say, not really. And certainly not in a complaint

Resolution service meeting. I’m trying to understand this one desperately, with no willpower actually available to give over to that runtime. Why do I have to survive in this pain, with no palliative care really (valium for emergencies does not count fully) when I have no hope?

And that’s where I am right now. Hopeless, exhausted, and wishing I felt anything other than this. I could show off new book covers, or talk about release dates, but I haven’t written some of them. That’s a recipe for failure. I love my family, but they

Deserve this torture less than I do. (I’m not in imminent danger of harming myself. I wouldn’t be posting here to let anyone stop me if I was. Dumb, not stupid.)
What I discovered this week though is there is no such thing as #mentalheathparity or even #thisisapplestoorgances

Thinking. No. There’s just this arrogant assumption that even if the person your’e dealing with is intelligent, and because they’ve managed to curb some of their more worrying traits (did you know for example, I can be in conversation and actively ignore another voice?)

Because I have learned, and adapted some of it, I am punished. And it’s not to do with language in this case. I mean...literally punished. I’m am told my life is worth less than a brand new building they just built. That lies will stand, staff will ass cover and

The NHS will be blamed, where I don’t blame ‘the NHS’. Tues was a direct contrast of what I’m used to lately - all were kind, sweet, helpful.Our overpacked A&E still treated us like we were all they had to look after. But the 2gether trust? Their neglect could have been fatal.

It still might be. Where a mythical amount of willpower I need to use to find my way out of this, I don’t know. But I’ve never felt more alone. Nor that it will hurt Tempus (other half) and that I’m so isolated and don’t know how to join in, or if I’m even wanted.

I walked out of my house a week ago yesterday with the three meds I needed to put myself to sleep and die. The police were called. The 2gether trust told me I am untreatable. I really hope that I’m not a voice that only gets noticed after I am gone, but I feel like I might be.

I just feel so....alone. Irony when I hear nine voices now (one, SHE has been something I’ve known as long as I can remember. I thought it was normal and she’s now turned my book characters on me. But I’m alone, because...I am. No one else can carry this for me.