Publication date: January 2006
Digital Book format: PDF (Adobe DRM)
A Diary of Despair by Rosamund McCullain ISBN: 1-904697-51-8 ISBN 13: 978-1-904697-51-0 Published: 2005 Pages: 41 Description This book tells Rosamund's story as she journeys through experiences of mental distress and bad treatment at the hands of the mental health system. The book ends on a note of hope and survivor solidarity. A whole range of issues are covered, from conditions in in-patient facilities, drug treatment, stigma and discrimination, the impact of suicide and self-harm, the quality of community mental healthcare to the eventual partial recovery of the Rosamund's condition and how she has managed to achieve this. About the Author Rosamund McCullain was born and grew up in Bradford, West Yorkshire in July 1964. Upon leaving school she moved to the Mid-Wales area to study English at Aberystwyth University, and currently lives in Newtown, Powys. When she first became a mental health service user survivor, Ros was appalled at the state of the mental health system and the treatment she received, and felt the public should be told what was being done with their money and in their name. To achieve this, she started writing 'The Dispossessed' in 1993, and finally completed it in 2002. Ros has a keen interest in creative writing, for her it has been a lifelong survival mechanism. She is an animal lover, and has two dogs, two cats and a horse. She works as a self-employed mental health trainer and consultant, writer and creative writing tutor. She is also involved in voluntary work as a survivor activist. Book Extract They have released me from the bowels of the Machine into "Care in the Community". They said they could do nothing to help me, having virtually forced me into the bowels of the Machine in the first place. I did have some choice in the matter. I could enter the bowels of my own free will, or I could enter the bowels under a Section of the Mental Health Act, but either way it was the bowels for me. So I chose to go "voluntarily". Having been so certain that the bowels of the Machine were the right place for me, having decided that I needed to be made vomit or voided out into non-existence, and neither of these things having happened, They have now come to the conclusion that being in the bowels is not the place for me so I am now being "cared" for in "the Community". Well, "the Community" in my case is either the drunken drugged-up students who share the house wherein my dingy bedsit is situated, or the people in the wider community who couldn't give a shit, they just want to go about their business (lawful or otherwise) unhindered by NUTTERS. The only support They have given me is an ample supply of FORGETFULNESS OF TRUTH. "Don't forget your TTO" They said. My Tablets to Take Out, how could I ever forget that? Especially as I was discharged at 10.30a.m. and had to wait around in limbo all day until 4.30p.m. for the damned things to arrive. No longer a patient yet not quite a free woman I hovered like a ghost 'twixt corridor and smoking room, wondering if I was going to make to the shops in time to buy myself some food with the £1.73 I had to my name. Thank heavens for late night Thursday shopping and Batchelor's Super Noodles.