The next chapter.

So I am sat in the waiting room of the May Davidson eating disorder unit at the Warnford psychiatric hospital waiting for my first appointment at an adult psychiatric hospital. It has taken me over half an hour to get to this building. The first reason being that I couldn’t find it and no one on reception seemed to know where it was either and two because once I did find out where it was it took ages for me to get there because the hospital is so secure each door has to be opened for you by a member of staff on an intercom, even to the extent of calling for the door to be open at one end of the corridor and then calling again when you get to the other end for them to open the next one. So every time I took a wrong turn or went to the wrong unit it took an eternity to be let back out again!
If I am brutally honest I enjoyed getting lost because I wanted to see if I could find some patients, I was convinced that I would see some strange behaviour, you know like you see on the films like on one flew over the cuckoo’s nest;  Straight jackets, people rocking and people talking to themselves. But I didn’t, I couldn’t tell the patients from the staff.
So I am sat in the waiting room of the May Davidson unit which was quite frankly the size of a shoe box. The walls are white, the ceilings are white and the chairs are white. There is a big black book on the table for people to write their comments in,

Comment: You have a sign in reception saying you offer fresh drinking water, Where is it?Reply: someone has stolen the water cooler…

Comment: We know we are mental why do you insist on putting mental health posters up in here? Why don’t you put up some paintings?
Reply: We will take your idea of some art on the walls into consideration, thank you

Comment: It is so small in here my knee’s are touching the knee’s of the person in the chair opposite.
Reply: Unfortunately we have to make do with the space that is available to us.

I was so engrossed in this hilarious comment book that I almost didn’t notice the overweight balding man with gravy down his shirt stood in the door way of the waiting room. Wow. I have finally come across a ‘mental patient’
“ Carlee Loveday, Hi, I’m Dr Sculler, Your Psychologist!”

…..O dear!

So I’m shown to a room with ‘My psychologist’ and he gets his pad and pen out and starts a clinical interview and asks me to fill out a CORE measure questionnaire which is simply a questionnaire on how you are feeling for them to determine if you are a risk to yourself or others.
I scored 7 which is a relatively high score of the CORE measurements but he was sure that although I scored quite high I was not a risk to myself or anyone else.
He asked if I had suffered from any traumatic incidents in my passed, any forms of  abuse or had seen anyone else experience a traumatic incident or form of abuse, I said I hadn’t because I hadn’t and you almost get this sense of confusion from him as if I must have had suffered some sort of irregular childhood for me to be sat here now with the problems I do.
He then asks me what I do for a living and what I do would like to do in the future,
I tell him I am a hairdresser and that I am studying for a degree in psychology
And I see his face and I know what he is going to say…
‘Carlee you have come here today and you look more then presentable with your hair done and your make-up on, You are a hairdresser and you are ¾’s of the way through a degree in psychology, You are a strong minded and strong willed young woman and I see no reason why you cannot conquer these issues if you put your mind to it, I will offer you a trial period of cognitive behaviour therapy although to put it bluntly you have already received such treatment twice in your life time so the chances of it working this time is questionable, you will be put on a 12 month waiting list…again, but don’t get your hopes up for a quick result as like I say we can only offer you what you have already done and it was unsuccessful.’

Although I had told him I don’t sleep for days on end, that I have eaten nothing but pasta, bread and potatoes for as long as I can remember, that I will hibernate most of the winter for the fear of catching a winter illness, That I cannot go near my boyfriends nieces and nephews because children carry germs, that I bleach my hands over and over until they bleed, that the panic attacks rule my life and that I don’t know what logical thinking is anymore, what is real and what’s not… Its too late.. I have just crossed the unwritten rule of psychiatric units, If you are functioning day to day reasonably ok without too much harm to yourself or others then you are not a priority and so you wait….

I wanted to scream at him, I wanted to tell him I haven’t been waiting 12 months for this appointment I have been waiting my whole life and now I have to wait enough year!  My life is in his hands, Me getting better and being able to get married and have children and do what normal people do is in his hands and he has taken it away and I hate him for it. I wanted to stamp my feet and scream and cry and tell him that I wanted him to make me better now, that I can’t take another day of being me and just because I am wearing make up and have my hair done nice doesn’t mean I’m not broken on the inside. But instead like the softy I am, I smile say thank you and walk out knowing that my last chance of getting better doesn’t seem as promising as it did before I came and see him,

I go home, get into bed with my clothes on and cry and Angel stays by my side for hours doing her best to make me feel better, she even brings me her vibrating mouse that moves along the floor when you pull his tail!

So I am laid in bed feeling sorry for myself and I receive a text message from my next door neighbour Joe who I have been friends with forever  ‘Hey Hood Mouse, Have they sectioned you?’
I smile, wipe my panda eyes off and go out and meet him and carry on where I left off before my trip to the Warnford.

I receive a letter a week later from Dr.Sculler which he is sending to my Doctor to inform her of what happened at the appointment and has forwarded a copy to me.

This is some of the content;

‘ I am aware of Carlee’s mental history involving long spells of treatment at the park hospital and high field units for treatments of anorexia nervosa and mediated by obsessional fear of contamination.’

‘Risk history, Carlee’s risk is inherent in past self starvation and likely hood of this occurring again. She denies using alcohol or drugs and recent drugs test’s prove this to be correct. She scored a severely high score of 7 on the Core measure questions but was adament she had no plans to harm herself or other people although admits to have taken very dangerous risks with her health in the form of starvation.

‘She is in her own word’s ‘soft’ with people and I feel she could be in some way exploited and controlled by people because of this.’

‘It seems a reasonable assumption that Carlee is shielded by people that care for her of bad things because of her mental state which has consequently resorted to Carlee growing up as a very under confident, threat sensitive young woman who finds it hard to trust people, she needs to be encouraged to face her fears and to toughen up a bit. I have agreed to put carlee on a waiting list for therapy but regrettably is another significant wait for her.’

What’s happening now?
I passed my driving test a month ago and I am hoping that this will help me get out and about a bit more without the fear of contamination of other people, Although so far I Haven’t been confident enough to do much driving!
The other students at my University are currently spending 6 months doing psychological experiments in Brighton, I was unable to attend due to my issues and have to do a online version by myself whilst they are gone, I will then be starting a child development course in January.
I am awaiting a visit from my doctor next week for more blood tests as I have a severe lack of something or another and its causes a itchy rash all over my body that is driving me crazy, I look as if I have flea’s!!

These passed years have taught me not to judge anyone by what they look like on the outside because you really have no clue what’s going on inside!!

Eleven years ago I lived with a band of urban outlaws, we would take over empty buildings owned by the state and house ourselves and other homeless people. Many people would come and visit us, some sympathetic some not.

One of those visitors, Carlee, an eleven year old girl, befriended me and my dog Coco. Eleven years later she got in touch with me over the net, here, in her own words is Carlee’s story.

Carlee Loveday

Me, Myself and I

The definition of a free spirit.
I googled free spirit a couple of years back when someone told me that is what I was and it came up with ‘One who is not restrained by convention or obligation, Non-conformist, free-hearted, someone who leads an alternative lifestyle and is an individual.’ I decided I was indeed a free spirit.
I often have faith in the people I probably shouldn’t, I’m attracted to difference, I never judge people on their past because I believe that has made them who they are today,
I believe everyone should be free to be who they want to be without being judged. I think you should chase your dreams and embrace your passion for the things you love the most.
I feel different from others in the way that I seem to feel so much passion and love for things that others often take for granted. I love the smell of the rain, I love thunder, I love to see the first flowers in spring, I love animals and I love music that has meaning to my life I get a feeling from these things so meaningful that people can only get from using narcotics.
Although recently I was looking online again as I decided I would like a small tattoo in a place no one would see that said ’free spirit’, I came across a different meaning for a free spirit. ‘Someone who has no worries, doesn’t let life get them down, Someone who always’ see’s the glass as half full.’
If that is the case, Unfortunately I’m not a free spirit.
Me.
My name is Carlee and I’m 22 year old, I am a qualified hairdresser to NVQ level 3 advanced standard. I am currently working towards a degree in psychology with honours at the open university. I am waiting for a referral to see a psychologist and cognitive behaviour therapist at a psychiatric unit for the third time in my life. I have an irrational phobia of vomiting and germs, which I have had since I was a child. The result of this is severe panic attacks, anxiety and a eating disorder. I suffer around two panic attacks a day and the most simple things I find impossible to do, such as going to my boyfriends house or going out with friends. I will only eat what I consider safe food, which is mostly plain such as bread, crackers or plain pasta. This is my first time at an adult psychiatric unit as the last two was a children’s psychiatric unit and an adolescent psychiatric unit. The first time I was referred I went to the Park hospital, I remember being sat in a dusty old waiting room with ancient magazines and two magnificent huge brown rocking horses with long black manes and tails and a bright red saddle, I remember being annoyed that I couldn’t ride them because they were germy. So I sat with all 6 of my cabbage patch kids I had brought with me for moral support and waited to see my first psychologist not knowing what a long journey this was going to be.
The reason I ponder the meaning of free spirit for me personally is because although I don’t follow the norm I am conformist. I feel that someone who is a free spirit is…to put it simply….free, and I am not.
Because I am tormented by my own mind, I am not free to do as I please because my mind will not allow me to.
When I talk about my feelings and myself it never quite emphasises the way I’m feeling, it’s too stiff and it feels like big important parts are missing but I am trying to explain as best I can.
I have never eaten chocolate and I have never been to the cinema or ice skating and so many other things that people take for granted.
My weight fluctuates depending on my anxiety. At the moment I am 7 stone. My smallest has been 4 stone, so I would say at the moment I am doing well. The thing that effects my life the most is the obsessive compulsive disorder, I wash my hands until they are red raw in water you could make tea with, I need to wash away the germs, if I brush passed something with my hand after I have washed them I will start the procedure again, if I am having a very bad day I will wash them with bleach and dettol. you see, my eating disorder is caused by a fear of vomiting, which results in me obsessively keeping things clean the anxiety and the panic attacks are the result of being around other people and my desire to keep things clean and germ free and being unable to do so when I’m out.
Which is why I didn’t go to school all that often. I would scream, cry, hide under the bed, cling onto the lamp post outside, hide my mums keys and most of all refuse to get dressed, which unfortunately resorted in me being sent to school in my pyjama’s. The idea was to embarrass me so that I would behave better in the morning, unfortunately it caused the opposite effect when all the other children in the class moaned that they weren’t allowed to wear their pyjama’s to school and I was!
All the way through my school years I was unable cope with being around such a vast amount of people, lunch time was a nightmare as I refused to eat at school as I couldn’t wash my hands ‘properly’ and didn’t want to eat what someone else had made. I was also obsessive compulsive about what I wore, so whilst everyone else wore red school jumpers and white shirts, I wore a black ‘fruit of loom’ jumper, black trousers and randomly pink glittery jelly sandals! I wore this every single day throughout my first school until I went to middle school.
I agree that children need an education but I can’t understand why most of our childhood is spent in a small hot classroom, instead of the teachers taking you out to explore the real world, nature, animals and the feeling of freedom.
I spent a majority of childhood at home not at school and I have completed an NVQ to advanced standard, I am half way through a degree with honours in psychology, I completed my GCSES’S and A.S levels at college just to prove I could, I read everything and anything, draw and write everyday, I am creative and have a vivid imagination. School didn’t teach me that, I did.
Middle school was no better as we had a lot of P.E lessons and I just didn’t have the energy to do it and would often end up fainting, I also suffered terrible stomach cramps throughout my time at middle school from being so hungry I assume. I was always ill with colds and tonsillitis because my immune system was so low. By this time I was at the high field adolescent psychiatric unit and my psychologist decided that it would be best if I had home tutoring a couple of times a week instead of going to school.
This is where my freedom and magic began, What made me, ME!
I am 11 years old, sandy blonde hair that has not seen a brush since I decided I wanted dreadlocks and refused to brush it, Blue eyes that see the world differently from anyone else and few freckles scattered on my nose, so few there not worth mentioning but they are there or the same.
Around the corner from my house is a deserted army barracks but there has been movement in there recently, people are moving in. I loved to explore so one morning when I was suppose to be at school but I refused to get dressed and insisted I was going to school in my pyjama’s or not going at all and my mum had given up and decided I could stay at home, so I went to investigate! There was around 10 dogs playing mischievously on the grass wet with dew from the morning just beginning, I took a liking to one I was to later discover was called Looner, I liked her.. She had been rescued and was beautiful, maybe a bit rough around the edges, she was a bit scabby and was missing bits of fur but The other dogs didn’t seem to mind that she was a bit different and played with her all the same. If only it was that easy for humans!! The people living in the deserted army barracks were squatting and soon welcomed me in as a part of their ‘family’ like the dogs did for Looner. It felt like the whole world was black and white but if you went through them big wooden gates you entered a world full of colour, I believe the gates were to keep the dull people out so they didn’t ruin the magic. Sometimes I would go early and see Slimmer doing some sort of martial arts, Slimmer was a tall, black man with such lovely dreads, he had a dog called Cooper a Staffordshire bull terrier who wore a bandana, my dog also a Staffordshire bull terrier wears a bandanna now to this day as it reminds me of the barracks. Everyone was different there and everyone had a different story to tell and they made me feel like I wasn’t a freak.
I decided I wanted braids like the girls in the barracks so I sat for a pain-staking 5 hours and had my hair braided whilst reading ’flowers in the attic.’ It was worth the wait and I loved them, the school didn’t feel the same about my braids and I remember an art teacher asking If I thought I was black and me commenting on her blatant racial and stereotypical comment, I couldn’t understand why it meant I thought I was black as the girls who had them in the barracks were white but I knew that what she said was wrong and it didn’t matter what colour I was to have my braids. I have liked to speak my mind since I was small and it is often mistaken for being cheeky or back chatting, which I don’t (very often) intend it to be! So I get into trouble for my back chatting. Although I have never been sure why a child telling you their opinion is back chatting when it is nothing but an opinion when you do it when you’re an adult!
The people in the barracks used to have bonfires and BBQ’s and listen to the most beautiful reggae music ever, the lyrics come from the heart, the beat took you away and I remember feeling so relaxed and peaceful in this atmosphere. Slimmer used to do staff twirling which is several forms of art involving twirling a baton that was lit either end making beautiful patterns at night. Slimmer made me a baton except mine had glittery tassels on the end! There was also a girl called Lorna in the barracks who did staff and poi. But I never got the hang of using that poi thing! She painted ashtrays, glasses, vases with beautiful pictures and sold them at craft fairs, I went home and got all my stone’s I collected from Brighton and painted them too.
Steve was my saviour from Bob. He would have to save me from bob the dog when I entered the barracks. Bob lived in the flat upstairs and would bark and snarl at me whenever I come in, although I don’t think he ever bit anyone he was scary all the same. Steve had a dog called coco who would follow him where ever he went, coco never wore a lead as she was well trained but my border collie had recently been hit by a car and although he survived I was worried the same might happen to coco so I brought her a lead just in case!
My mum used to work as a medical receptionist and my dad was a printer but he worked nights, During the day my dad would take me to the kings Arm Sanford pub and we would work for miles through the fields with Ben my border collie, I have never been as happy as when I was a child, although I had all the same problems as I do now I felt so free, the only worry I had is of it growing dark so that I couldn’t see the wonder of nature anymore yet the excitement of a fresh dark night that brought a brighter day made the wait seem worth while. Contentment at its best. Everyday was an adventure of new friends to discover, new flowers to pick and new games to play the list was never ending.
When we were working along the river we would stop and we would light a fire, My dad would sit and watch the fire whilst me and Ben went and explored. My mum was very annoyed when I come back one time and had all these prickly things stuck in my hair and Ben had them in his fur, me and Ben were detangled and both ended up having chunks of hair cut off, until we both ended up with similar hairstyles.
I found out later the reason for the trips to the river during the day was to avoid the debt collectors, my mum and dad were struggling for money and they kept coming round and taking things such as the TV and the car. One night me, my mum, my dad, my friend Alison and Ben the dog went in my dads transit to Brighton for the weekend to avoid them, we put mattresses in the back of the van and quilts. When we arrived in Brighton we got fish and chips and sat in the van and shared and listened to men who were singing in the street for money, it was beautiful. the next morning we opened the doors of the van straight out onto the beach which was empty and me, Alison and Ben played on the beach as the sun was rising and I can honestly say that is the happiest day of my life and would do that again instead of any holiday abroad.
Me now.
As you know, I am 22 years old, I am a qualified hairdresser and mid way through a degree in psychology and just starting my journey of seeing a psychologist myself. I have a boyfriend of three years and I live with my mum and dad. I have still never been abroad, I have never been to the cinema and I never eaten chocolate.
My mum and dad now have their own property maintenance business and are doing well and I am also doing well with my free lance hairdressing.
Having little or no money when I was younger has taught me its little importance in life now. I learnt that you don’t need money to have a nice time and as long as your with good people and good surroundings that is all that matters.
The eating disorder and my anxiety problems has taught me that everyone is different and who are we to judge peoples problems or differences. I believe it has made me who I am today, it has made me a better person and it has made me stronger and haven’t even overcome it yet so I can only imagine the benefits of when I am better.
In the future I would like to become a psychologist and work to the highest level possible in that area. I would like to work in the deepest depths of the psychiatric unit, I want to work with the people who have nothing left. I want to work with the criminally insane and the like. I want to make a difference in peoples life,
I would like to further my career in hairdressing also, I would like to meet some top stylist’s and see what all the fuss is about!
But at the moment I would just like to be able to go out and not panic, I would like to sit and eat a meal with my boyfriend, I would like to be able to sleep a full night without waking up with such dreadful panic attacks and if I can achieve that then I know I can achieve anything.