Help That Turned Sour
I went into a therapeutic community, designed to treat my mental health problems and help me. It started okay, but as time passed it went rapidly downhill.
Patients would brag about their history of hospitalization and the damage they had done. It was competitive and fueled the illnesses that the community it was supposed to treat. Certain patients were allowed to be unkind and break community rules. They received one-to-one support, whilst myself and others were left to struggle alone, were left at risk and left to suffer.
Some patients received special treatment, like having what amounted to hundreds of pounds in taxi fares funded, whereas others did not. It became clear that this was not a place of equality.
As time passed I became more and more suicidal because of this toxic environment. I was sectioned and sent to an acute ward in my local area. The psychiatrist there is appalling and has some very outdated and stigmatized views. He is judgmental and unkind. He discharged me within a couple of days, telling me I will probably kill myself, but that is fine.
The person supposed to be helping me basically told me he does not care if I die. And the final straw was when my care coordinator, someone I had a very high opinion of, broke my confidentiality by giving private information to my mother, the one person who it is documented to never contact.
It has been documented and known from the start of my adulthood to never tell my mum anything, there have always been alternative people to talk to. Yet she went against my wishes and spoke to my mum.
All of this has pushed me to the end of my tether. I am angry at professionals, angry at the world for being unfair, and fed up. I want revenge or I want apologies. I am livid and fed up.