Now I know you must be wondering, “Dee how can you have a love / hate relationship with the NHS? What experience do you have?” Well, being a girl with a history of diagnosed mental illnesses, severe anemia, endometriosis and general bad luck, whilst being a full time biomedical science student means that you frequently end up engaging with hospitals unwillingly.

Before we get to the bad experiences which changed the way I viewed the healthcare sector, I would like to highlight the good things first. I always aim to see the good in things and want to give credit when due, as every experience given in life has a taste of honey, no matter how bad overall. When I was younger I aspired to be a doctor, a radiologist specifically, the thought of being a real life superhero, saving lives and getting paid for it excited me. As I grew older I attended programmes and taster lectures that grew my excitement for medicine; as for the first time as a young black muslim woman, I saw people who worked in a well respected profession that looked like me and many unrepresented people from my area. Receiving medical advice when I was younger was positive also, when I got sick I was usually never involved in the ‘adult diagnosis talk’ - my interactions with the doctor were usually a sticker and advice to have my apple a day!

This perfect image of the healthcare sector started to fade away when I grew up, becoming more observant and being more sick without my parents around. A long term trauma the healthcare system has caused me is their negligence towards mental health. I have clinical anxiety and chronic depression. The first response to help me for this after being referred many times by my sixth form college was CAHMs. It had been so counterproductive that I left thinking I would rather suffer by myself. My councillor made me feel as if I was being interrogated instead of listened to, and was completely dismissive of thinking I had a mental illness, everything was a ‘phase’ and if i had a “hot bath and a cuppa” it would go away. It is extremely excruciating for someone with mental illness to be invalidated, because on a daily basis we go through constant periods of paranoia where we feel as if we’ve made it up and are being dramatic. So when we finally cry for help, it is absolutely shattering when someone invalidates us because it kicks us back to square one.

After CAHMs, I was fearful about receiving therapy, I kept things in and went through large periods throughout the year where I dissociated to avoid any feelings. This unfortunately caused a chain effect where it affected my studies and social life, all together worsening my feelings about myself, life came crashing down and I thought that going to a university far far away from where I lived would mean I could start anew - but things got worse. The mixture of bottled feelings, homesickness, social anxiety and the fear of being a failure again surged through me everyday, despite the fact that I got above average grades and making plenty of new friends, it did not cure whatever I was going through. I eventually turned to substance abuse, a borderline eating disorder and insomnia and on one random morning I woke up, the bottle was too full - I completely snapped.

I am still slightly traumatised by my behaviour that morning. 

It was as if I would do anything to make my brain stop, to end everything right there, anything that made me happy did not matter at that given moment, it felt like I was already dead. Luckily my friend had come to check on me and had thought it was best to escort me to the nearest A&E - which I’m forever grateful for. 

Now usually this is where the story turns around and the person gets professional help and all ends well - well no. After a long wait at A&E I was finally assessed by a nurse, a little weight left my shoulders knowing I would be in good hands, being the one who sees the good in people however, once I explained what was going on with myself the response I got was “there's nothing much we can do, you can see the doctor but I am pretty sure you will be told the same thing.” Just like that I took a deep breath, smiled, thanked her, reassured my friends and family and got back to substance abuse, getting worse every time I indulged in it and having the mindset that it would hopefully take me out peacefully. 

This occurred for 6 months until my friends and family realised my self destructive behaviour, I received different forms of help that just did not work. I was put on basic antidepressants that any teen receives when they suggest that they are somewhat mentally ill. What got me through my own mental illnesses was not a healthcare worker, a therapist or medication. It was me seeing my mum, a woman who had given me her heart and soul to ensure I lived a happy life, shattered at my state of living. Through that something in me just wanted me to do better, I researched and learned about my own mental illness psychologically and physiologically. I learned a way to feel comfortable to share my feelings without getting anxious or feeling the need to bottle up or dissociate. I learned to cut out substance abuse and channel my addiction to running and weight training when I feel down. I flourished from someone who had no hope in feeling actual happiness to a genuinely optimistic and happy person. I’m someone who I never thought I would have become someone who now shares their previous and current struggles to now help people that are in the same position 

My main concern currently is failure of the healthcare system to help teenagers and young adults. In 2019 the rate of suicides in women between the ages 10-24 had risen by 94% since 2012 (1). Not everyone is as privileged to be able to turn their lives around like I did. Every person with a mental illness comes from different environments and will have different ways to take control of their mental illnesses. There needs to be a recognition in the healthcare system that mental health is just as equal to regular physical health, if we can reach that point, we can restructure the approach and healthcare for young people allowing them to have tailored treatment like any other illness inquiry, reducing suicides, increasing confidence, creating a better future and leaving the UK to be a society that wins. 

To the people who are like the old me, who are crying for help on the inside, not fully understanding  your feelings and not seeing a point in living. You are not alone. It gets better, you will get better and as much as you may not believe it, life is worth living and happiness exists, you can do this!

1. Iacobucci G. Suicide rates continue to rise in England and Wales. BMJ [Internet]. 2020 [cited 3 September 2020];:m3431. Available from: https://www.bmj.com/content/370/bmj.m3431