Wednesday, 8 February 2017
On Monday I flicked on the TV and began to watch BBC's Panorama - Revealed: Britain's Mental Health Crisis which was about "the troubled state of NHS mental health services", the "deteriorating national picture for mental health care funding" and "new figures that show a shocking increase in unexpected deaths of mental health patients".
Monday, 6 February 2017
I am so thankful for the friendship and support I have from friends and family. Last week my mum gave me a book entitled 'Quiet Moments', others have recommended hypnotherapy, mindfulness and meditation. While these activities can kind of help someone get a rest from the incessant vice-like grip of fear that is a key symptom of C-PTSD, they are more of a sticking plaster / band aid. This might be why, the other night, one of my regular nightmares was about me trying to cover up a huge wound with the smallest sticking plasters / band aids you have ever seen.
Should I be blogging about C-PTSD in a blog specifically dedicated to eating disorders in boys and young men?
Yes of course I should be for the simple reason that the latter was caused by the former - the 24/7 of caring for my son as he plummeted into and slowly emerged out of his eating disorder - anorexia - between summer 2009 (when it first became evident to me) and, probably, right up to the end of his first year at university in 2014/15 (when things began to improve quite considerably). The worst period was an 18-month stretch between October/November 2009 and Easter 2011 (when Ben and I began to implement our 'contract' which helped to turn things around). For nigh on 18 months on a daily basis... on an hourly basis... on a minute basis... I was -
Thursday, 2 February 2017
|Feels like I was dumped here...|
Wednesday, 1 February 2017
You know me... always trying to fix things (like my son's eating disorder) and refusing to give in. Or at least that's what I used to be like. I really, really hoped that I could fix my C-PTSD (Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder) that I've been struggling with for four years (as a result of the trauma of the eating disorder years when my son was sick). Last week the NHS spat me out to fend for myself because I'd reached the end of a limited number of therapy sessions. I don't blame the therapist who admitted that this isn't the way she likes to practise. In other words, if the patient isn't recovered in a given number of sessions, then tough luck, they're out on their ear.