Suffering in Silence

I can only begin to imagine the kind of pain the family of Mark Saunders must be feeling right now. Losing a loved one to suicide (and that's exactly what it was) is one of the worst things that can happen to you.

Because of my situation (I have a mental illness and have spent rather a lot of time in hospital) I've lost several close friends to suicide. The repercussions of their actions cannot be underestimated. Journalists have repeatedly emphasised the fact that Mr Saunders was a barrister, destined for great things, as if that somehow should have rendered him immune to mental illness. I would imagine, if anything, that his situation exacerbated his condition. He was intelligent and resourceful, a 'high flyer'; he was not expected to ask for help and so he didn't.

Last year an ex boyfriend, A made his fourth suicide attempt. Like Mr Saunders, A was also a high-achiever. He worked in the City and it was amidst the intensity of that world that he had a nervous breakdown. He goes further: he calls it a meltdown. His name for it is his 'Chernobyl'. After his first suicide attempt he requested help. He didn't receive any. All the health services in his area had to offer was a cocktail of medication. People have asked why Mr Saunders did not ask for help. I'm speculating wildly here but maybe he did and was turned away like one in three people suffering from mental health problems who appeal to the NHS for help.

The authorities will conduct their inquiry. We'll shake our heads and ask ourselves why it had to happen and why it should never happen again. But nothing will change and it will happen again. Over and over again.

Witchfinder General

I am the Witchfinder and I wander
Through a deceptively tranquil countryside
In which daemons, devils, Lucifer himself reside

I pursue them, they run, they hide
I hunt them down. I am the dark shadow
That hovers over them, wounded, defeated

We hunt in packs - my minions and I
We run them to ground. Young girls, their faces
Smeared with blood and dust. We corner our prey

Respectable farm-girls until the crops failed
And it was that bad harvest that brought them to me
Wild eyes blazing defiantly

They resist but we persist and in the morning
The villagers gather wood for the fire
But I am the one who insists on igniting the pyre.

My Friend Lisa

Let me tell you a few things about my friend Lisa. She suffers from a mental illness known as bipolar affective disorder. She has spent about a year of her life in hospital. She does not complain, she does not make a fuss and, as far as I am aware, she poses no danger to anyone except herself. And she tries. God damn it - she tries. She has a part time job (she teaches at a local FE college), she has a certificate of higher education. She has a social life and a multitude of friends: a testament to her generosity of spirit but she often wakes up in the morning disappointed that she is still here.

It would be so easy for Lisa to 'play dead', to curl up into a ball, to cut off all connection to the world. But she doesn't do this. She throws herself headlong into living. She has all the qualities that should be nurtured in a human being. One would imagine that she would be rewarded for her efforts. One would imagine that she would be rewarded for such behaviour. However, far from being rewarded, she is penalised. She has discovered that the single source of help she receives from the state has been withdrawn. She has been told that from now on she is not entitled to the assistance of a psychiatric nurse because she appears to be 'doing so well'. She replied to this news with the words: 'Has it ever occurred to you that one of the reasons I am doing so well is regular contact with the CPN?' She pleaded with the team that manages her care to reinstate her CPN but to no avail. She asked if the action taken by her psychiatric team was a result of the drastic cuts to the health budget in this area. They admitted that this was part of the reason behind their decision. Whenever there are cuts it always seems to be the people who make the effort who are affected the most.

Rightly or wrongly, I cannot help contrasting Lisa's case with Andy's. He is abusive, regularly indulges in criminal activity yet he has a string of helpers traipsing in and out of his flat: social workers, CPNs, occupational therapists, you name it, he has it. Message received and understood: those who shout the loudest receive the most whereas those who make any kind of effort to engage with the world beyond the mental illness ghetto are penalised. Those who harm others are valued more than those who pose a threat only to themselves. Conclusion: the only way to receive help is to give up, curl into a ball and play dead. Fine in the short term but has anybody stopped to consider the long term consequences of this policy? Somehow I doubt it.

This Is So Fucked Up...

This is the first account I have encountered that even makes an attempt at being objective. This whole sorry episode reveals what people really think of the mentally ill. To call it a 'witchhunt' is an understatement. Another blogger castigated Ms. Lowde for what he called her 'evil deeds'. On his own blog he called her a cyberterrorist. In another post he defends a former IRA RL terrorist. In what kind of moral universe can the former possibly be seen as worse than the latter. These people really terrify me.

http://tinyurl.com/2zbryv

Scroll down for this quote:

'Don't get on the soapbox about the Criminal justice system being soft on murder. Your (sic) soft on cyber stalking. Then again you are a bully.'

Madness. Absolute madness.