Sunday, 15 March 2015

By jingo!

It's been a bloody amazing week. In fact, as my grandma would say about it (and as I and my not-such-a baby cousin would die of laughter at), 'by jingo!' In fact, not only would my grandma say it, but she did actually say it a few times today. That's a bit irrelevant, but I'm a bit drunk. And you know what? I can actually admit on here, publicly, that I am a bit drunk. Do you know why? Do you? Even if you know, can I tell you anyway?

I AM NO LONGER SECTIONED.

For those of you lucky folk who don't know the mental health system in England, it means that I'm not detained in hospital any more. I've been on a Section 3, kind of like a treatment order, for too many, ahem, sober years. Ahem. Sober if you're a staff member, anyway. I'm still a patient, but I can kind of come and go as I want and leave at any point, rather than being forced to stay there. It's been, God, a good few years that I've been detained and now, by jingo, I'm suddenly not. Despite my weekend of celebration- champagne on Friday, tea and cake (and by that, I mean a sarnie and a Diet Coke) on Saturday, a night in the pub on Saturday night, and more champagne with my family today- it still hasn't quite sunk in. I get my discharge date on the 26th, and my solicitor thinks it'll be pretty quick after that, that I'm out. It's been a long few years inside and I can't help but kind of squeal when I think about my upcoming freedom.

That's not all, anyway. Thursday was when I got off my section, but Tuesday I had one of the world's greatest reunions with a good friend of mine, Aimee. She was discharged from the same hospital as me last September and was always a role model of mine in there. Watching her turn it around gave me the kick up my arse to turn it around myself, and I spent too many hours last spring in heaps at her feet, having her literally and figuratively pick me up, time after time. She's a good 'un, that one. Rather than reuniting in Newcastle, where she's from; Scunthorpe, where I'm from or Bradford, where we were in together, we were down in the arse end of nowhere, Northampton way, for the National Service User Awards, at Silverstone, held the day after we reunited.

Where I only went and won a bloody award. I don't even know what to say about the day, except there were some incredible people milling about and some incredible stories, ideas and talents floating about. I am so humbled and grateful and honoured. I am definitely going to dedicate some sober time to telling you about the event, because it deserves more than my drunken rambling, but I'm too happy to be eloquent and too tired to explain, but just know- I worked my arse off (actually, I worked it on. All the weight I had to gain has been worth it). I, just, well, I'm feeling quite proud and inspired and, genuinely, happy. And that doesn't happen often.

pre awards

a beautiful reunion


post awards, with some of my accolades <3 i="">

2 comments:

  1. Rebecca, I am happy for you... I know this won't be easy but I have incredible faith in you... you are a fighter... you know how I know... because I am and from one fighter to another we can see each other and know the other won't give up no matter how bleak it looks at times... xox

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  2. Been following you silently for a while, and had to comment on this one. I'm so happy you're doing so well. And I love that dress!!!!!!

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