Miscarriage, Missing and Detained.

First off, sorry for not blogging in SO long! I’ve had a lot going on and haven’t been up to blogging about it, but I’m back now and I hope to have a new blog post up every other Tuesday! Guest blogs are still accepted.


This goes back a couple of months – back in February I had a miscarriage, it was the hardest thing to get around, I was only 3-4 weeks but the thought of losing something that was a part of me was difficult – I was visiting my family at this point so had to act like nothing happened or was going on.

When I got home, I had more stress, worries and basically people being ‘bullies’. I had given up all hope of anything EVER getting better for me – I took a large overdose, and the next thing I remember is waking up in Resuscitation 5-6 hours later. My favourite nurse was by my side when I came round and he was telling me that I was unconscious – didn’t flinch when they put a tube down my nose and throat – and how my liver levels where very high and how worried he was. I refused treatment, but soon enough I ended up accepting it.

I ended up speaking to the crisis team, and no matter what I told them they were 100% stuck to the decision of sectioning me and putting me into inpatient. I walked out, with a cannula in my arm and nurses and security guards following me.  I told them I wasn’t going back in until the Psych Nurse had gone (she didn’t listen, was rude and laughed when she sectioned me).

I went back in, I was there for around 3 days to the Monday. That evening I heard a nurse talking on the phone about transferring me to the Psychiatric Ward – panicky from not having my meds and all the anxiety build up, I packed my stuff up – walked out, got a taxi – got changed and went to London.

I had turned my phone off until the Wednesday/Thursday – I had numerous calls from friends and the police – telling me I was missing, that they’ve had two helicopters out, which my door had been kicked in, that they had put in a missing persons report. I couldn’t deal with it, I couldn’t go home or I’d be in a psych ward straight away – I couldn’t talk to friends cos they’d contact the police – I was alone, lost and scared.

Later on that day I phoned Sophie, the Sargent I get on well with – I told her I’d come back if it was her personally who met me – to which she did, and she took me straight to the psych ward to where I was very uneasy and terrified, kicking, screaming and shouting whilst two police carried me in was horrible. The psych team had to restrain and sedate me as well, and I was put on 1-2-1 obs.

Luckily I was out within the next day because the section wasn’t ‘legal’ – but this time it’s taught me that a few people do care – that with all my experience I CAN help someone else, that I can make the difference I want to see.

Since the end of Feb, I’ve not had any police or ambulance out to me – and I’ve started facilitating a mental health group in Wigan!

No matter how dark things seem, there is ALWAYS light. 


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