I've spent so much time thinking and trying to work out how I ended up here. I'm trying to unravel it in my head and connect the dots but there are so many messy intricacies. It nearly always leaves me unsatisfied, except the few times it doesn't. When it seems to 'click' in my head, there's momentary relief, then a sense of urgency over the fact I need to write it down before I lose it, and I need to go and tell everyone that I've figured out the secrets of the world (I haven't). Then there's anger because I realise I'm carrying all of this is my head and everyone is blissfully unaware. They only know about their own place, role, impact in my life. Some lack even the self-awareness to consider all of that. They don't know where they fit in in the grand scheme of things. Maybe if they did they'd think twice. People dismiss little things they do that hurt you, they dismiss big things they do that hurt you. They think the details don't matter, but they absolutely do.
I just want to say that the people that were supposed to help, offer hope, didn't. But it was even more purposeful than that. They took my hand and led me into the thick fog of despair, then walked away. Then told me I had to find my own way out.
It wasn't enough to just abandon me, then they had to tell me it was my fault. I made them do it. I made them hurt me. People talk about resilience and endurance. It's only ever to absolve themselves of responsibility. Stop creating ordeals for me to have to endure.
People tell me not to take it personally. How can I not? To not want to help someone's distress, to add to it instead, is deeply fucking personal. And they don't do it to everyone. My existence was just particularly offensive to them.
They sacrificed me to protect one of their own. They said he hadn't done anything wrong yet they were so vicious in tearing me down for someone they proclaimed was entirely blameless.
And even the 'good ones' never ventured further than neutrality. All the focus was on me unseeing what I see. They continue blindly.
I promise I'm not bad. I'm not bad like they made me out to be. I like to laugh, love, cry, give, help, learn, improve, do, think. I'm not just bad.
All they ever did was talk about how my family had hurt me. It's true they did. But I came to expect that from them. I didn't expect it from the people who say they'll help. That pain will never be undone.
One Psychiatrist told me it was understandable that I was physically abused because my Autism made me 'difficult'. He asked me if my friends 'put up with me'. He told me that 'everyone wants to get rid of' me, and laughed. He told me to cut.
And when I complained, what happened?
They all rallied around him and came up with so many different excuses. They said I'd misunderstood, then they just ignored it. They even suggested he's Autistic therefore he was just being clumsy. Then they turned nasty and said it's all my fault and that is caused it. They told me they didn't 'owe' me anything. They told me to stop 'preaching' to them. They downplayed all the pain and suffering they'd caused me.
That place broke me. I wish I'd never set foot in it. The South London and Maudsley NHS Trust made me lose all hope. They, and in particular Dr Jonathan Bindman, made me feel like I have no stake in the world. He systematically ground me down and he knew extacly what he was doing. He had a way of undermining you and making you feel weak and inferior, like nobody cares about you. He wrote in my notes that I 'talk (more likely scream!) about suicide'. He thought it was amusing.
They told me I have capacity to kill myself. They told me they had to make sure their resources were used on their local population, and that wasn't me, despite the fact I lived there. The Chief Nurse, Vanessa Smith, told accused me of wasting their resources and taking time away from other people. It's strange because they never gave me the time of day.
I never felt I belonged anywhere. I never felt safe anywhere. When I left for uni I thought it would be my fresh start, my chance to create my own life that I wanted. And yet again I faced being told I don't belong. She had no idea how her words would hurt, or maybe she did and just didn't care. The thing is, they think I'm so angry and nasty and monstrous that nothing would hurt me. They think I'm so manipulative that words bounce right off of me.
They utterly broke me. And not one person since has even had the decency to say it was wrong. I don't even know how to describe the pain, but it's there, every day.
I wrote about group therapy previously, but another reason I never liked it was because it just amplified the difference between me and everyone else. They say it's not personal. It is. I see the way they treat others, the way they wrapped them in support and compassion. I was left out in the cold and I still am.
The worst thing they did was render my words meaningless. Nothing I say matters now. The judgement has been made and I've been condemned. My whole self-image is shattered. I'm just want they want me to be now.
Nobody can tell me that this wasn't all planned. They planned on forcing me out of the world, so that they could say it was by my own hand and, well, I was always an attention-seeker anyway.
I have nothing but hatred for that place because I know they were capable of caring, it just didn't extend to me.
I hope it was worth it. I'm sorry you misunderstood me so badly. I'm sorry I was never worthy of help. I'm sorry you chose to crush me rather than hold me.
But I'm not sorry for being free of you and all the pain you've caused me. Pain which will never be acknowledged.
You want to know the saddest part? Just like they have all along, they'll frame my passing as an angry act of 'revenge'. Even in death, they like to centre themselves and their feelings.
So let it be clearly noted here that the South London and Maudsley Trust, and the abusive staff they harbour, don't matter enough to even feature in my calculations. Don't flatter yourselves. You simply amplified what was already eating away at me. You did me a favour by snuffing out the faintest hope and showing me what the real world is like.
What an insult it was, all those times you told me to 'reach out' after you entirely crushed me and my sense of self. But it was completely intentional, right? You've ticked the box, put the ball in my court.
Every time I did reach out, you either ignored me or didn't hear me. I really would like to know what it is that made you believe other people? How come you responded to their SOS? Was I not worth it? I promise I did want to offer something to the world. I had hoped and ambitions, hobbies and interests, people that loved me. I think people loved me, even though you made me doubt it so many times.
There's only so many times you can let someone walk away as you say 'see you next week,' 'see you in two weeks' until you won't.
It's so hard to not write all of this without sounding self-pitying. But that's what they do to you. They destroy and then make you feel stupid about it.
I hope the burden clearly caused of my existence is eased. Every time I stepped in to their buildings I thought everyone was whispering about me, I thought they were talking about how much they hated me. From the top down to the reception staff, they all got the memo about me.
How could you? They confirmed all my worst fears. And I can't live in this nightmare anymore.
Not only do I not have any practical way of living anymore, I don't have the will. I never did, but I thought if I keep doing things one step at a time, there'll be something waiting for me when I finally want this life. Now I have nothing. I have nothing.
For some reason I'm not someone people like. It's not victimisation, it's just self-awareness. I'm not a person people empathise with, or want to help, and that's ok. It's ok.
There's so much in my head. In the past I think what stopped me from going through with it was the need to have it all down. But I've let go of that. It's been helped by the brutal realisation that whatever I say will be twisted. What do you matter once you're dead? The focus is on the living. And that's fine by me. If I could, I wouldn't want any trace of me left behind.
I used to be afraid of dying, but who cares? You're dead. I think the shift occurred because at first it felt like it was my surroundings that were suffocating. It wasn't easy but I could find new surroundings. What can I do when my head feels like a prison? I just want to scream.
I never forget anything. Ever. It's a curse. I remember every detail about everything that I experience/encounter/learn. But it becomes too heavy to carry. People think I'm petty, but I physically can't forget the pain you caused me. I relive it every second of the day and I don't want this any more. I won't have it anymore.
I just want to say that the people that were supposed to help, offer hope, didn't. But it was even more purposeful than that. They took my hand and led me into the thick fog of despair, then walked away. Then told me I had to find my own way out.
It wasn't enough to just abandon me, then they had to tell me it was my fault. I made them do it. I made them hurt me. People talk about resilience and endurance. It's only ever to absolve themselves of responsibility. Stop creating ordeals for me to have to endure.
People tell me not to take it personally. How can I not? To not want to help someone's distress, to add to it instead, is deeply fucking personal. And they don't do it to everyone. My existence was just particularly offensive to them.
They sacrificed me to protect one of their own. They said he hadn't done anything wrong yet they were so vicious in tearing me down for someone they proclaimed was entirely blameless.
And even the 'good ones' never ventured further than neutrality. All the focus was on me unseeing what I see. They continue blindly.
I promise I'm not bad. I'm not bad like they made me out to be. I like to laugh, love, cry, give, help, learn, improve, do, think. I'm not just bad.
All they ever did was talk about how my family had hurt me. It's true they did. But I came to expect that from them. I didn't expect it from the people who say they'll help. That pain will never be undone.
One Psychiatrist told me it was understandable that I was physically abused because my Autism made me 'difficult'. He asked me if my friends 'put up with me'. He told me that 'everyone wants to get rid of' me, and laughed. He told me to cut.
And when I complained, what happened?
They all rallied around him and came up with so many different excuses. They said I'd misunderstood, then they just ignored it. They even suggested he's Autistic therefore he was just being clumsy. Then they turned nasty and said it's all my fault and that is caused it. They told me they didn't 'owe' me anything. They told me to stop 'preaching' to them. They downplayed all the pain and suffering they'd caused me.
That place broke me. I wish I'd never set foot in it. The South London and Maudsley NHS Trust made me lose all hope. They, and in particular Dr Jonathan Bindman, made me feel like I have no stake in the world. He systematically ground me down and he knew extacly what he was doing. He had a way of undermining you and making you feel weak and inferior, like nobody cares about you. He wrote in my notes that I 'talk (more likely scream!) about suicide'. He thought it was amusing.
They told me I have capacity to kill myself. They told me they had to make sure their resources were used on their local population, and that wasn't me, despite the fact I lived there. The Chief Nurse, Vanessa Smith, told accused me of wasting their resources and taking time away from other people. It's strange because they never gave me the time of day.
I never felt I belonged anywhere. I never felt safe anywhere. When I left for uni I thought it would be my fresh start, my chance to create my own life that I wanted. And yet again I faced being told I don't belong. She had no idea how her words would hurt, or maybe she did and just didn't care. The thing is, they think I'm so angry and nasty and monstrous that nothing would hurt me. They think I'm so manipulative that words bounce right off of me.
They utterly broke me. And not one person since has even had the decency to say it was wrong. I don't even know how to describe the pain, but it's there, every day.
I wrote about group therapy previously, but another reason I never liked it was because it just amplified the difference between me and everyone else. They say it's not personal. It is. I see the way they treat others, the way they wrapped them in support and compassion. I was left out in the cold and I still am.
The worst thing they did was render my words meaningless. Nothing I say matters now. The judgement has been made and I've been condemned. My whole self-image is shattered. I'm just want they want me to be now.
Nobody can tell me that this wasn't all planned. They planned on forcing me out of the world, so that they could say it was by my own hand and, well, I was always an attention-seeker anyway.
I have nothing but hatred for that place because I know they were capable of caring, it just didn't extend to me.
I hope it was worth it. I'm sorry you misunderstood me so badly. I'm sorry I was never worthy of help. I'm sorry you chose to crush me rather than hold me.
But I'm not sorry for being free of you and all the pain you've caused me. Pain which will never be acknowledged.
You want to know the saddest part? Just like they have all along, they'll frame my passing as an angry act of 'revenge'. Even in death, they like to centre themselves and their feelings.
So let it be clearly noted here that the South London and Maudsley Trust, and the abusive staff they harbour, don't matter enough to even feature in my calculations. Don't flatter yourselves. You simply amplified what was already eating away at me. You did me a favour by snuffing out the faintest hope and showing me what the real world is like.
What an insult it was, all those times you told me to 'reach out' after you entirely crushed me and my sense of self. But it was completely intentional, right? You've ticked the box, put the ball in my court.
Every time I did reach out, you either ignored me or didn't hear me. I really would like to know what it is that made you believe other people? How come you responded to their SOS? Was I not worth it? I promise I did want to offer something to the world. I had hoped and ambitions, hobbies and interests, people that loved me. I think people loved me, even though you made me doubt it so many times.
There's only so many times you can let someone walk away as you say 'see you next week,' 'see you in two weeks' until you won't.
It's so hard to not write all of this without sounding self-pitying. But that's what they do to you. They destroy and then make you feel stupid about it.
I hope the burden clearly caused of my existence is eased. Every time I stepped in to their buildings I thought everyone was whispering about me, I thought they were talking about how much they hated me. From the top down to the reception staff, they all got the memo about me.
How could you? They confirmed all my worst fears. And I can't live in this nightmare anymore.
Not only do I not have any practical way of living anymore, I don't have the will. I never did, but I thought if I keep doing things one step at a time, there'll be something waiting for me when I finally want this life. Now I have nothing. I have nothing.
For some reason I'm not someone people like. It's not victimisation, it's just self-awareness. I'm not a person people empathise with, or want to help, and that's ok. It's ok.
There's so much in my head. In the past I think what stopped me from going through with it was the need to have it all down. But I've let go of that. It's been helped by the brutal realisation that whatever I say will be twisted. What do you matter once you're dead? The focus is on the living. And that's fine by me. If I could, I wouldn't want any trace of me left behind.
I used to be afraid of dying, but who cares? You're dead. I think the shift occurred because at first it felt like it was my surroundings that were suffocating. It wasn't easy but I could find new surroundings. What can I do when my head feels like a prison? I just want to scream.
I never forget anything. Ever. It's a curse. I remember every detail about everything that I experience/encounter/learn. But it becomes too heavy to carry. People think I'm petty, but I physically can't forget the pain you caused me. I relive it every second of the day and I don't want this any more. I won't have it anymore.
