Sectioned under the Mental Health Act 1983 (21/09/2014)

Being sectioned has to be one of the most traumatic experiences I've ever been through. Before this I used to think I wanted it or rather my illness did. But now that my rights and freedom were taken away I am struggling with the idea of actually wanting to be detained under the Mental Health Act. It seems almost bizarre why anyone would wish to be locked up in a hospital. I used to though and I think this experience will have proved to my head this is not what I wanted at all. I suppose you have to really experience something to truly know for yourself.

It started with me going missing one night and I walked around town overdosing. I didn't have a plan at all and I was largely guided by intense emotions and flashbacks. I refused to call or talk to anyone. I wanted to literally disappear and not be Sophie Clayton anymore; I was ready to give up my fight. So I wondered around all night in the cold and rain because I didn't want to go home and face things and I didn't want to voice what was happening in my head. I wanted it all to stop. But after going missing in previous weeks the police were very vigilant. Being handcuffed by the Police outside a supermarket at lunchtime the next day has to be the most humiliating, panic inducing, and lowest moments of my life. I just didn't think they would actually do it and therefore I tried to fight them as best I could in my physical and mental condition. The woman was very harsh and pushed me hard into the police car. And then another car followed us to the main hospital. I was put on Section 136 so the Police could take me to a safe place (hospital) without my consent. However once they had started me on Parvolex (Paracetamol antidote) the police decided to leave and I was therefore left to my own devices. This wasn't good. I started cutting my wrist numerous times until a HCA managed to stop me and pull my hand away. They then took my bag and went to page the doctor. Meanwhile, I decided to tie my shoelaces together for some odd reason; let's just say I wasn't in a great mental place. I'm not even sure what my plan was really. I just wanted to do something. Anything. I felt suicidal and I did not want this drip to protect my liver and therefore save my life.

I was moved to a bay closer to the nurse's station and the shoelaces were taken off me. I felt trapped and I just wanted to leave and go anywhere. They put me on one-to-one which meant a nurse had to sit with me at all times; even when I needed the toilet. I tried to leave numerous times and I kept refusing the antidote. Eventually the doctor chose to use the Mental Capacity Act and therefore could give me treatment without my consent. They restarted the drip and if I tried to stop it they would restrain me physically. The antidote was to save my life and at the time I didn’t want it saved. I wanted to die but they couldn’t let that happen and I’m now extremely grateful for their efforts. Once the drip finished 24 hours later I was assessed by the crisis team and they offered me a bed as an informal patient. This meant that I’d go into a psychiatric unit voluntary. But I didn’t want to be admitted; I wanted to keep overdosing because I was done with living and everything seemed too hard to cope with. Once I refused they chose to get me assessed for a Section 2.

A Section 2 means they can detain someone in hospital for up to 28 days if they are at risk of harming themselves or other people. Two psychiatrists and a social worker came to see me about 3 hours later and spoke to me about how I was feeling and everything that had been going on at that time. I was very quiet and scared and just mentally exhausted. I don’t remember the assessment very clearly which shows how bad things were for me. They decided to section me and found me a bed at Wotton Lawn Psychiatric Hospital in Gloucester. I was then transferred that night by ambulance along with the nurse who was on one-to-one with me.