[CW: suicide]
I'm really shit at writing blogs. I didn't realise I hadn't written since before I was shipped back to a local hospital (with two hour's notice (they said an hour), while on hunger strike and still in bed), where I stayed for the weekend before being taken off the section and discharging myself against medical advice, so absolving everyone of any responsibility if I went on to kill myself. They asked me to stay voluntarily while my care was sorted out. I couldn't stay where it was torture -- they've literally built a torture chamber for autistic people with noise sensitivity. Seven weeks later, not only do I still have no care, but nobody has even spoken to me about my care, nobody replies to my emails about my care, yet they've turned down help from a company that finds respite care, and how do I know that? From the company that helps find respite care, not from anyone in my so called care team. I also found out from that company that my social worker has been off sick for some time. Nobody bothered to tell me. But she's not meant to be my social worker anymore anyway. I requested a new one I don't know how long ago; someone who can actually communicate and adapt. Well that appears to be nobody at LPFT, or Lincs ICB.
Things have built up, especially today, and I've had it. They're never going to help. They never were. I was always going to die. I've felt like I'm not really here anyway. I was so upset earlier and now I'm just numb. Trying to think of what I need to do before I die. I need to get through Christmas first, I can't ruin it for everyone. I wish I could've just gone tonight though. I'm so tired, I'm so sick of being seen as not really serious because I'm not dead yet. If they honestly think I'm just saying it then they really don't understand autistic people at all. Honesty is important to me. Not that those bunch of liars would understand that.
I'm too tired tonight and I've already taken tablets to help me sleep. I will write more soon. I'll write as much as I can so it doesn't all die with me. It's not going to be pretty, it won't be polished, but it'll be me, and them. And probably Lincs police too, since they've played a part in the state of me now.
In the words of Zoe Zaremba: I wish I'd never asked for help.
[Moved from another blog. The date/time are from the original post.]
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