I am battling flashbacks at the moment, and I do not really know why at all, well I don’t always, they just happen.
The unconcluded mess of the Diocese and the constant threat of them does contribute to it, as does me being indoors.
I know that if I was to return to the streets now, I would start to feel better, but I am not who I was in my days of great adventure on the streets, I have blown too many fuses in the massive traumas of the past year, and I have had a number of minor breakdowns and I do not have the energy I used to have, so I am ‘safer’ indoors, although my hurt brain is screaming that it is terrified indoors and I live in a state of severe anxiety.
I realised that if London isn’t fully on ‘The Wanderer’ and some is still on ‘Homeless’ then people do not know about my hospital efforts in London.
I arrived in London deeply and severely traumatized and I could not possibly see a way of going on living after what had happened, but hoped to die anonymously in the crowds of London.
But even then I did not stop trying to help myself.
Within a few days of arriving in London, I went to the Maudlsey and begged to be admitted to their traumatic stress unit, unfortunately the waiting list was 18 months and the diocese in the record they had given me meant I was not taken seriously by my doctor although the diocese had failed to get me registered as mentally ill and I was noted to be suffering trauma. I have never been treated very well by doctors since the diocese got me locked in cells for responding to their violations of me in Winchester.
So, my doctor was hard to get a referral from, but I think she may have done the referral but I am not sure at all what happened to it, but at the maudley they were doubtful, and told me that even if I got onto the list, it would be at least an 18 month wait and I should be settled somewhere, which, at the time, due to my terror (justified) of continued tracing and violations by the Diocese, I was unlikely to be settled, as I was fugitive.
The Maudsley helpfully sent me over the road to Kings College Hospital A&E for assessment by an E&E psychiatric nurse, to try and see if I could be referred back quicker.
The psychiatric nurse was very nice and kind, and even tried to get some food for me, like the WInchester team did when the diocese failed to have me put away before.
Anyway, this psychiatric nurse was easy to talk to, and I told him what I could, in the shocked state I was in after Sussex (which I am having flashbacks about at the moment).
I told the psychiatric quite a lot, and he said I didn’t appear to be mentally ill, and that he would send the report over to the Maudsley.
Anyway, nothing ever really came of that, apart from a social worker accessing my medical records without my consent and forcing herself into my life, and getting a formal complaint in reply, which I think is how the diocese and their police traced me tro London.
It remains an injustice among many of violations and misconducts that if I live, I will have to deal with and bring to book properly, because it has left my records inaccurate and messed up so that I am treated badly.
Anyway, some time later within the few months I was in London, I was too distressed to cope, so I was advised, and took the advice, to go to A&E again, despite my fear and knowledge that it was futile, I went, because there was nothing else I could do.
And because even in that profoundly destroyed state, I was still looking after myself.
If I had known what was going to happen in this past year, I would have commited suicide as I really really wanted to, but I kept myself alive.
Anyway, I went to St. Georges A&E, it was about 10pm and I was in a terrible state, I went to the desk and said that someone had advised me to come but I wasn’t sure if they could help and I was suffering severe stress.
They said that they could help, and said it very positively.
I was terrified of being trapped, because of the diocese and how they had repeatedly had me trapped, but I checked in with A&E.
And ended up even more stressed 🙂 although I have put a smile in there.
A schitzophrenic man was also in A&E, and he was increasingly angry and troubled, I was in a corner and not far from him, unfortunately he went mad, and had to be restrained, and I had ended up trapped in the corner as he lashed out and roared.
It was not just his behaviour that horrified me, but that the diocese had tried to make me out to be ill in the same way as this man, when my behaviour had not been random but in response to what I had suffered combined with the fact that I am autistic and have avoidant attachment disorder.
Anyway, this man was restrained, but both his behaviour, and the knowledge that the diocese had tried to make me out to be like this, and the violence with which he had to be restrained (he got very close to me with his flailing fists) left me shocked, and I shot out of A&E. I remember how brutal the police were with me, even though I was never violent, only ever frozen with terror.
Thankfully as I panicked outside, a nurse came out, and she was very calm and kind, and persuaded me to come back in.
Then there were a series of people asking me questions, a ‘head nurse’ who didn’t even know what Asperger Syndrome was, and thought I had been admitted for Asperger Syndrome. I got cross with her.
But there was a male nurse who did know, understood autism, interviewed me twice, and I was able to tell him some of what had caused me to end up traumatized.
I was not ‘admitted’ but was left in a cubicle on the A&E ward, and seeing as it was my bed time, I tucked down for a snooze, with my toy keeping guard.
Eventually someone took my blood pressure.
The schitzophrenic man was on the ward, and went mad again and had to be restrained and injected, which again horrified and traumatized me, this was what the diocese wanted to be done to me. It still makes me sick with horror.
And eventually a nice doctor came to see me, went away and saw me again later.
She listened to me, and said I was not mentally ill and thus they couldn’t help me, and she had to check if she was allowed to let me out that night due to how vulnerable and distressed I was.
She also looked up my records and found that the interfering leech of a socially worker was still illegally on my records, and I explained to her that this was against my wishes and a violation, and she said she would write to them about that. But I was furious.
She let me wait while she made sure she could let me leave that night, and she could, so by 2am I was down to Waterloo Grill for some long delayed supper and a hot drink before I went to my sleeping place, exhausted.
I fought in every direction in London, both to get help and to get protection from the Diocese of Winchester, but their side of the story on all my records meant I couldn’t, and still can’t, get help or protection from them.
Their ‘help’ will never be help to me, and their interventions are like rapes.