What a year of unemployment has done to my mental health

It has been almost a year now since I found myself unemployed and unable to work due to illness. A lot has happened in that time, my world has been turned on it’s head and I have been left feeling emotionally bruised and battered. I’m not sure I can say with honesty that I recognise the person I see in the mirror all that much these days.

When my job ended (one month and one day before Christmas, a blow that felt particularly callous) I said I had chosen to leave for health reasons. This was not the case, in fact I was made redundant without any severance pay as the beautiful, brave social enterprise I worked for was  dismantled around me and then closed down.

However at the time I wasn’t able to say that, it wasn’t until months later in February I was able to tell people I had not left voluntarily. A hard thing to keep to oneself especially when you’ve spent over a decade in therapy learning and being encouraged to reach out for support when you need it-and I did need support badly. Even now I can’t really go into details. What I can say is that in the run up to the end the company had been whittled down to just myself and my boss and we worked ourselves to the bone under unbearable pressure to try and save what he had built, the literally award winning work we did supporting people with mental health problems.

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A beautiful but bittersweet night at the Tech4Good Awards 2015 knowing it would be the last award we would ever win

Slipping and then free falling down the rabbit hole

I had already begun deteriorating earlier in the year as the pressure mounted which manifested in deepening anxiety, depression and as my Anorexia worsened I did literally begin to work myself to not much more than bones.

When the job ended I was devastated but I also saw it as a rare opportunity while I had the safety net of my parents roof over my head, to “work on myself”, “devote myself to recovery” and “give myself a break for the first time in years”. Noble goals.

I think the biggest thing I have learnt about myself this year is that I am naive and I have definitely learnt that the hard and painful way.

I naively thought I had lost enough and things were as bad as they were going to get. After all the previous year I had been forced to move out of the lovely little flat I rented with my partner, back in with my family due to a torturous neighbour situation which ended in police intervention. I had lost my home and independence, now my job, income and health. It couldn’t get worse right? Fool.

In the immediate aftermath of the job loss there was a genuine grief, not just for what I had lost but for my colleagues too, the business itself, the way of life which was difficult but something I relished. Commuting daily into London, helping people, travelling all over the country..

I thought that some time off (planning to get back to work in the new year) would give me perspective but instead I fell into the oldest trap my mental illness lays, I fell too deep into my own head. Without structure or an incentive to fuel myself the Anorexia did not waver, instead it grew and I shrunk. I chased a number, a grotesque and arbitrary figure that has been stuck in my head for over 12 years and I didn’t just reach it I went lower and it terrified me but I could not stop even when my own heart was threatening to quit on me.

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This, if you can believe it, is the more “discreet” ECG which I wore for a week at one point 

It terrified the people around me too. When I’m ill it feels like I’m under water, I can’t concentrate properly on what people are saying because everything sounds distorted and I feel a strange numbness – only reinforced by being so cold I am often physically numbed. Yet it still feels like a needle being stuck into your heart when friends see you and burst into tears, or when you realise your boyfriend is scared of holding you too tight and breaking you. I could see objectively so clearly the absolute destruction my eating disorder was doing but it still felt like the only sane reaction to my insane brain in my suddenly upside down, stripped back, broken world. Suddenly I found my whole life given over to battling the illness, believe me it didn’t happen like it does in films with a spiritual retreat and sudden Eureka moment but with brute force. At one point I was having five appointments a week – group therapy, individual therapy, check ins with the GP, blood tests and ECGs. I saw psychologists, psychiatrists, dietitians, nurses, you name it, I tried it. I was asked on multiple occasions by clinicians if I thought I needed to go into hospital. A stupid question to ask a perfectionist, people pleasing Anorexic. Especially when consenting meant a bed in the “nearest” unit which is 400 miles from home (a shocking situation in itself). I couldn’t leave my partner, my family and friends, my whole support network and go to another country for months on end – how could I say yes to that regardless of how ill or far gone even I could see I was?

In January 2014 I did something I never usually do; I made a resolution, that I would not put myself through the hell of another winter with Anorexia. If you’ve had this condition you know winter is torture, your whole body feels cold every minute of every day, unable to generate any of it’s own heat you sit on radiators until your clothes melt without you noticing, Raynaud’s becomes so bad you wash your hands until water you don’t realise is scalding your skin. It is a season of wearing three layers of leggings and tights under your trousers and still shivering. In January 2015 I did not make that same resolution but I still hoped there would not be another. In January 2016 I made no such resolution, there seemed no point.

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By far the worst year ever for Raynaud’s – I’ve literally only had about two weeks respite even with a good summer

I ended up in A&E until 3am because of re-feeding syndrome, I self harmed properly for the first time in six years, so much time down the drain in one motion. Suddenly I couldn’t deal with phone calls any more, I couldn’t deal with people or being outside if I didn’t have to, I was endlessly broke, my world shrunk to the four walls around me and bland, badly lit waiting rooms as I cancelled every plan I made and withdrew further and further. My only respite were the moments of happiness I had with my family and partner who have bent over backwards and broken themselves to fix me this past year. That and a wonderful group of people I met through group therapy who I have thankfully stayed in contact with and meet up with for peer support (which for us involves a lot of coffee and much needed ranting).

At some point I ended up applying for benefits, something I had pretty always managed to avoid. Despite being eligible in the past through pride I did not apply despite my Dad repeatedly pointing out he had paid taxes for over forty years so that if anyone, especially his own flesh and blood, needed support, it would be there. Seeing no other option I applied and jumped through the hoops, seemingly endless loops put in front of me by the DWP. There is a blog in the works about that experience.

Sometimes I find myself wondering if I can put a cost on the emotional pain, the stress and anxiety that they have put me through and if I did would it add up to more than the meager sum I receive in pounds sterling? I cannot count the number of panic attacks I have endured, the volume of tears of frustration spilt. As someone who is very ill the benefits system seems geared to heighten any pre-existing anxiety or paranoia you may already have. The threatening brown envelopes, arbitrary demands and the ever looming fear that your only means of survival could be stripped away at any point wears you down. In the three weeks that I waited for a face to face assessment I lost half the weight I had managed to gain in the previous six months and the assessment itself left me unable to leave the house for weeks and knocking back Valium just to get out of bed. In the latest saga I now owe £700 I most definitely do not have because of an admin error. This year has felt like one disaster after another.

Over the last few months the outside support has dried up and I am increasingly facing these endless hurdles I face with only my exhausted family to help. Group therapy ended, I saw that one coming at least and could prepare myself. Then I found out I was almost at my allocated number of therapy sessions. When I started with this service I was told I wouldn’t be discharged until my BMI reached a certain target which, although terrifying, was healthy, I was told therapy could be extended if necessary. It wasn’t. Despite my weight not changing and being dangerously low, sub-emaciated for over a year and still the weight where hospital had previously been recommended, despite behaviours popping up like a deadly game of whack-a-mole, despite my failing health and my desperate plea for help I was discharged back to my GP. Now I find myself with 10 minutes every few weeks if I can get an appointment. I have lost my outlet, my safe space and I have been discharged back to primary care sicker than when I entered services.

In a desperately cruel twist of fate just as my therapy was ending and I was trying to process that loss my partner’s grandfather passed away. Grief careered into our lives like a bulldozer with no one at the wheels, ripping through my partner and his family and all I could do was watch helplessly and try and do what I could to ease the raw pain. Futile. I told everyone involved in my care that I was deeply unsafe and at my most vulnerable, that I didn’t know how or why I was meant to cope with all this without help. I was told by clinicians I “would probably get worse after discharge” but “it’s okay, you can always be re-referred”. I’m not sure I would want to go back now though, it feels like that window has closed, I feel more damned to this disease than ever.

So here I find myself, a year on. I always used to half joke that if I ever stopped (running from education to one job after another, always commuting, travelling, rushing, trying to save the world) I wouldn’t know how to start back up. It’s not so funny now.

The much wished for, dreamed of recovery seems further away than ever, my weight at rock bottom, my health precarious and no light that I can see anywhere in this tunnel. Although I am told otherwise I feel useless and a burden. The system does a lot to back up your paranoia and to push your self esteem down further. The endless “scrounger” rhetoric gets through even the thickest skin. All the logic I have at my disposal, my knowledge that I am too ill to work, that I have worked, have contributed, always paid taxes, fizzles and disappears in the face of brown envelopes and the culture of fear the Department of Work and Pensions perpetuates.

I know I will get back on my feet, I am, despite all of this, one of the lucky ones as I have a family that supports me, a roof over my head, a partner, friends (those I haven’t managed to push away) including a wonderful group of girls I see most weeks for moral support. What is hard is not knowing when this will come, when life will start getting better. I feel like I haven’t been able to catch a break this year, positives slipping through my fingers like sand or just out of reach. If the word desperate has come up a lot in this post it’s because I am desperate, for change, for a glimmer of hope, for a break or turn of fortunes. I know I am not this shell of a person, I know I have so much to give and all I want is to go back to work and the real world and be well.

My treatment isn’t NICE (approved)

My treatment isn’t approved by NICE, The National Institute For Clinical Excellence (and that’s OK with me).

Over the last few years there has been a revolution in the way we view, commission and use mental health services in the UK. One of the biggest changes is a push towards providing purely evidence based treatment. These days if you have a product or treatment for mental health and you are trying to break into the NHS market I can guarantee that one of the very first questions you will be asked is “where is your evidence base”.
Is this enough evidence for you?

Is this enough evidence for you?

Despite the title of this blog I do mostly agree with this approach. For most of it’s history our mental health services, in terms of size, access and treatment offered, have been haphazard at best, often based on gut instinct and previous experience rather than data and scientific evidence, mostly because we don’t have enough of either. This has resulted in a landscape that is incredibly difficult to navigate, not just for service users like myself but also for families, friends, other sectors and even the clinicians and commissioners. Worst of all it has resulted in a postcode lottery of services, which if youre lucky you win but all too often means that people do not receive the best care possible..or in some cases any care at all.

As you know I have used NHS mental health services on and off for twelve years now and have experienced four distinctly different services in three geographical locations. It was only after my most recent referral to mental health services since moving back to my home town last year that I realised not only the real extent of the postcode lottery but also truly felt the personal knock on effects.

Sorry you haven't won, better luck next time.

Sorry you haven’t won, better luck next time.

To paint a picture..

When referred to my new trust I received a phone call within a week from a lovely man who immediately apologised that i would have to wait 6 weeks for an assessment. I tried to choke back laughter as he was so apologetic about a time that for me, with my previous experiences, seemed almost miraculous. After having the assessment I was immediately given a care co-ordinator (the same woman that assessed me). She once again apologised and said that it would be 3 months until I could start treatment. In the meantime I was contacted by another branch of the service who offered me 29 sessions of group therapy for 2.5 hours each week to “tide me over” until the 40 sessions of individual treatment started – probably the most treatment I’ve ever been offered by a service.

Flash back a few years and one county over I had a very different experience. I was referred to the same type of mental health team, I then spent 13 months (yes, over a year) waiting for an assessment while both my physical and mental health deteriorated. When I was finally seen i was told that they could only provide minimal support and that (direct quote) what I needed (i.e. more than 12 sessions) was “not available on the NHS at the moment”. We considered putting me on the waiting list (at least another year long) for treatment but decided against it because, due to a reorganisation in the trust they weren’t sure if the service I was waiting for would even exist by the time I got there. It felt a bit like stepping onto an escalator that you know may have nothing at the top.

But back to my initial statement, what is this non-NICE approved treatment and why don’t I care that it comes without this gold stamp of approval? Especially given my dedication to improving mental health care in this country.

Well the group therapy I recently started is called RODBT..I must admit its actually so new that even I hadn’t heard of it, and with my background that’s surprising. It stands for Radically Open Dialectical Behavioural Therapy (quite the mouthful) and is a form of What is DBT which has been developed to help people like me with chronic Depression and Anorexia. It is being used in some other countries and all early stage research is very positive however it is not far enough down the evaluation line to have the coveted NICE approval.

I’d never had group therapy before now so I really wasn’t sure what to expect and it turns out neither did the clinicians as this is the first time they have ever delivered these new sessions.
Welcome to the guinea pig club.

They stated in the first session to us all that we would have to sign a consent form to say we understood that this was NOT NICE APPROVED TREATMENT. Given what I said in the first paragraph you might have expected me to run a mile after hearing this and not sign the form, after all were told time and time again how important it is for treatment to be evidence based. In fact I was quite relived.

You see a NICE guideline may be the gold standard but because of that NICE also have to do a lot of research and be very thorough. It actually takes on average two years to rewrite a NICE guideline, let alone write one from scratch, and like randomised control trials (RCT) it may be the gold standard but it’s (by its very nature) quite removed from the realities of creating and trialling any new treatment or product. Certainly it’s a barrier we come across frequently in the digital mental health world.

Now for me as a patient, obviously I want good care, I want to have faith and confidence in the treatment I am receiving but I don’t particularly want to wait two or more years. Maybe some will see that as selfish or impatient but I’ve been ill with this particular condition for 13 years now, exactly half of my life and quite frankly I can do without another two years of the pain and suffering this disease causes. Not just to me in terms of my mental and physical health but also for the sake of my partner, my family, friends, employer and colleagues who have to deal with the fallout and pick up the pieces in the meantime.

I also don’t mind being a guinea pig, if it works then I will be ecstatic and maybe I can have a bit of my life back from the monster in my head. And if it doesn’t turn out so well then at least we tried, got some evidence and it can either be shelved or better, tweaked, so that the next group have an even more helpful experience.

So in conclusion, generally speaking evidenced based treatment is a very good thing. We need more of it. However getting more evidence bases involves conducting a lot of ongoing, extensive and time consuming research and so care cannot be put on hold during this time. We need to make sure that “evidence base” isn’t used as a barrier to buying new products or services and that people can still receive good quality care even if it doesn’t have a golden seal of approval just right yet.

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If you’d like to learn more about the move towards evidenced based treatment I’d recommend checking out the work of the Evidence Based Practice Unit (EBPU) which is run by University College London and the Anna Freud Centre.  

Talking & Walking Out Of Darkness

The following post is a write up of the speech I gave on Saturday at the first ever Walking Out of Darkness event. Some of it may be slightly different from what was actually said on the day; mostly because I got the most emotional I have ever been giving a speech!

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Hi everyone,

My name is Kat and I’m here today because when I heard what Kenny was trying to achieve this weekend, I had to get involved.

These days I’m very open about my mental health, so I’m happy to share with you that I’m not okay and in fact I haven’t been okay for a very long time.

I’ve used mental health services on and off for a decade and probably have enough labels to keep the post-it note industry alive. I’ve also come far too close to the edge myself and there were times, certainly, when I couldn’t bear the thought of being here for another day.

Looking around today, I can see a fair few familiar faces and, given what we’re all here for, I’m pretty sure I may be preaching to the converted, but let’s give it a go anyway.

Even for me this has not been an easy speech to write which these days is a novel experience for me. Over the last six years I have dedicated a large amount of my life to campaigning around mental health issues including Suicide.

I have spoken to countless individuals, and at events around the country about my experiences and those of my peers. Hell I even took on Jeremy Paxman live on Newsnight earlier this year to talk candidly about my experience of Self Harm and what I think needs to be done to help other young people suffering in silence.

But Suicide, even now, is something of a taboo within a taboo and not something that I can easily find words for.

You’ve probably all heard the statistic, that one in four of us will be affected by mental health issues. However I’ve often argued that it’s four in four. Because one in four doesn’t take into account the distress and despair felt by friends and family when a loved one is struggling. And yet many do not, cannot talk about it.

I used to be one of them. Even though I’ve been ill most of my life it wasn’t until six years ago, aged 19 that I “came out of the mental health closet”.

I was lucky enough to stumble across an amazing charity who changed, if not saved my life. The charity in question was YoungMinds and without their support there is no way I would be here today giving this talk. YoungMinds helped me to find my voice and start standing up to stigma. I joke that they gave me the activism bug, but more seriously, they helped me express the injustice I had long felt and gave me a platform to actually do something proactive.

In fact some of my friends from YoungMinds are here today so if you see anyone wearing our tshirts come up and say hello. I’d also urge you to sign up to our mass movement for change, YoungMinds Vs as we attempt to fight the pressures faced by young people across the UK.

I now work for a mental health start-up called BuddyApp. We’re a small team and we work with NHS services up and down the country to help people of all ages have a better experience of treatment using something strikingly simple and accessible; a text message.

Because I am so open I am often seen as one of the more visible advocates for service user voice in the mental health community. Because of this a lot of people reach out to me. It happens, sometimes several times a week and the sad thing is the conversation always starts the same way:

I’m really sorry but I don’t know who else to talk to

Now I’m glad that people reach out to me, don’t get me wrong. However it saddens me that, even in 2014 in a supposedly enlightened culture, there aren’t more of us willing to stand up and speak out. I wish my friends and the acquaintances and strangers that message me don’t have more options.

So everyday, sadly, I see the human cost of distress, of mental illness and of suicide. And sometimes it feels to me as though it’s everywhere, just hidden behind a thin veil. Perhaps if we stopped and looked around the crowds we would see that not everyone manages to keep their mask on, perhaps we could take a bit more time to carry out some random acts of kindness.

Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.

When it comes to Suicide, we can talk about statistics until the proverbial cows come home. I could rattle off numbers and tell you how many thousands died last year.

I could tell you that the biggest killer of men aged 20-49 is not road traffic accidents, it’s not Cancer and it’s not Heart Disease..it’s Suicide.

But I guess, and I can’t believe i’m quoting, or rather misquoting this person, but as Stalin almost said:

The death of millions is a statistic. The death of one man is a tragedy.

What makes us sit up ad think, what really pulls our heart strings and makes the numbers feel more human, what we sadly often lose, is the individual tragedy.

I’m guessing that many of you, like me, are here today because you have lost someone you love or have come too close to taking those final steps for yourself. There is no pain like it, I know.

I was 18 when I first lost someone to suicide. Her name is Casey Brooks. She was a charming, funny, caring girl with friends all over the world (we met through an online support group). Although I never met her she provided me, and many others with support in our darkest hours. And yet, in hers, that last time, she didn’t reach out.

Casey Brooks

Casey didn’t think much of herself, a common problem for people like us with mental health issues. I wish she had truly understood the love and the laughter she brought to people’s lives and what the absence would mean. I wish could see the effect her leaving had. I don’t think she could have guessed that all these years on her online memorial would have almost a thousand members. I wish she knew that her parents never stop talking about her, or about the work they’ve done in the last few years to help save other young lives. Her dad has also written this book which I would recommend.

Since that fateful day I have come far too close, far too often to losing far too many others.

Three weeks ago I received a text that made my blood run cold. It was one of my dearest friends, who I have known and cared about for years and she was saying goodbye. I think my heart stopped beating as I read those words.

I know she’s come close before, I’ve held her as she wept, whispered supportive words down the phone at 4am when everyone around me was asleep, I’d do anything for this girl. But this time felt different. I guess after all these years being involved in the mental health community, and all my safeguarding experience, you start cultivating a pretty accurate gut reaction. It didn’t help that I was also several hundred miles away and couldn’t do what I desperately wanted to, which was to hold her and keep her safe until the storm passed.

I’m so happy to be able to say that she’s still with us but it breaks my heart knowing how close she came and how little she felt she had left to live for.

And i’m proud of her for telling me, I am so grateful I didn’t lose her that night.

When we are struggling and feel alone, we need the courage to reach out, to say this is not how my story ends. And appropriately for today, if we see that hand reach out, we must have the courage to clasp it and hold on, as long as it takes.

I want to thank you all for joining us today Walking Out Of Darkness; blessed are the cracked for we let in the light. I’d also like to think Kenny, the CEO of CLASP, who has worked so incredibly hard to bring us all together today.

And I will leave you with this quote from Ben Okri, which struck me as apt for today;

The most authentic thing about us is our capacity to create, to overcome, to endure, to transform, to love and be greater than our suffering.

Thank you

What are you doing next weekend?

Me proudly sporting my CLASP jacket
What are you all doing next weekend? I ask this because as you probably know next Friday 10th October is World Mental Health Day.
This year I’m doing something special and I would love it if you could join me, if not in person then in spirit, Walking Out of Darkness to raise awareness of mental health and in particular suicide.
The walk has been organised by CLASP, an amazing charity which has been started by a pioneering man named Kenny who has himself, been affected by suicide, having made an attempt a few years ago. Later this year they will be launching a helpline for people affected by suicide or suicidal thoughts including friends, families and carers which will link up with 111 and be an amazing resource for people across the UK.
The walk is 10 miles but don’t worry, if you don’t feel up for it you can still join us on the day and show your support. There will be stalls to browse with information too. You will be in good company with several thousand others including members of the NHS, supporters, charities, Department of Health, British Transport Police, MPs and celebrities. Not only that but some of my BuddyApp colleagues will be joining me and we will have a Buddy stall on the day.
Sign up here for just £10. If you use the code “Kat10” the money will go to the charity of my choice, DWED.
You can also sponsor me directly, I’m raising money for the charity DWED (Diabetics With Eating Disorders), a charity close to my heart. Type 1 Diabetes with a co-morbid Eating Disorder is a little know, much understood condition although we do know that females who are type 1 have twice the risk of developing Anorexia or Bulimia as their peers and as many as 40% of 15-30 year olds regularly omit insulin.
Every little bit helps, so please donate a couple of pounds or share with others.
If you can’t join us please do tweet your support using the hashtag #WalkingOutOfDarkness and encourage your friends, family and colleagues to do the same

What was your experience of transition?

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Hey everyone,

If you know me then you’ve probably heard me get up on my soapbox about the issue of transitioning between CAMHS and Adult mental health services. I wrote my dissertation on it (Growing up in the system: Making the transition from CAMHS to Adult Services, 2010) and have spent a lot of the last five years campaigning to improve this area of treatment.

NHS England, the body set up by the government to improve the health of everyone in England, has taken on the challenge of young people’s mental health transition – and is determined to improve it. Because I work for NHS England and have a keen interest in this area i have teamed up with Yvonne Anderson from CERNIS to gather your views and experiences.

When we talk about transition we mean the difficulties faced by young people trying to access mental health services after the age of 16/17. This often means a move from CAMHS (Child and Adolescent Mental Health Services) to Adult services. We know that this a big problem for a lot of young people as many struggle to get the help they need or fall through the “gap” between adolescent and adult services.

The ambition of NHS England is to place service users, patients and the public at the heart of everything they do and they have asked us to consult with you.

Tell us online by taking this short survey. 

Prefer to talk? Contact Yvonne at: y.anderson@cernis.co.uk   

Alternatively you can use your reader on this QR code and go straight to the survey via a mobile device or tablet

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The state of young people’s mental health

To coincide with World Mental Health Day, guest blogger, young person and professional Kat Cormack looks at the state of young people’s mental health in 2013 and examines access to treatment, perception of people with mental health issues and stigma.

So here we are on the week of World Mental Health Day 2013 and I can’t believe a year has passed already since the last one.

It’s also ten years since I started receiving mental health treatment and so now seems to me like a good time to take stock and see what is currently happening in children and young people’s mental health. I guess that makes this my “State of the mental health nation” speech.

Mental health, illness and everything in between is a massive area and I could talk to you about everything from ADHD to Z-drugs but then this would be less blog and more book: or five! So I’m going to focus on a few areas that I feel make for good indicators to assess the health of our mental health and services.

The last 10 years have been huge for me, seeing me going from a severely ill 14-year-old to a moderately ill but high functioning adult. In this time I have gone from being a student at school using CAMHS to someone who now works for the NHS and with YoungMinds (and occasionally uses Adult Mental Health Services).

I have also spent five years working with YoungMinds, the Royal College of Psychiatrists as well as completing an undergraduate degree in Psychology where my dissertation was based on young people’s experiences of transitions from CAMHS to adult services. This puts me in a somewhat unique situation (not unlike a tightrope at times) of being a professional, a “young person” and a service user all at once.

So where do we begin? I think two of the most salient indicators are access to treatment and perception of people with mental health issues. These are the two areas I will be covering in this blog.

Access to treatment

Asking for help with a mental health problem is daunting. I’m not going to lie. It takes courage to admit that things aren’t right and that you’re struggling and I commend everyone who takes this first step.

For most young people the first port of call is their GP, it was for me too. Ten years ago when I first asked for help my GP (newly qualified) had no idea about mental health having received no real training in the area. At the time I didn’t think much of it but looking back that’s pretty shocking given that such a high percentage of GP visits are related to mental health.

Fast forward 10 years and some progress has been made and I have met a lot of GPs who are very much up to speed with mental health and act accordingly. However many still have limited training and understanding and I have had my fair share of run-ins with GPs who are ignorant to the point of negligence. This needs to change. We cannot keep telling young people just to “talk to a teacher or your doctor” if they’re worried if we don’t then train these professionals to respond appropriately.

After seeing the GP for many young people they are referred to CAMHS. However we know that waiting lists are still unacceptably long with many young people waiting months (or even up to 18 months) for the support they so desperately need. This is not acceptable.

There is much talk of bringing about “parity of esteem”, to put it simply this means we need to start treating mental health as seriously as we treat physical health and that includes holding services to account to the same waiting times. You wouldn’t have to wait 18 months to get a broken leg fixed!

Another big problem we face in 2013 is the increasingly savage cuts to health and social care. Through an FOI request YoungMinds found that two thirds of local authorities have cut their budgets for children and young people’s mental health services since the coalition government came to power in 2010. One service suffered cuts of 41%. (Source: http://www.bbc.co.uk/newsbeat/21737173)

At a time when even more children and young people are experiencing mental health problems the last thing we can afford to do is cut services. Children and young people are not immune to the effects of the recession which have lead to a surge in family breakdown, youth unemployment and stress for young people. And as Tier 3 services like children’s centers are closed the burden increasingly falls even more heavily on CAMHS which was struggling as it was 10 years ago when I first came into contact with them.

With three in every classroom affected by a mental health problem we are letting down too many children and young people.

This is why I am happy to hear that many schools are beginning to ask more organisations like the wonderful BodyGossip to come in and talk to their students. I’m also glad that there is a lot more talk of teaching children resilience and even screening for mental health issues from the age of 7.

Perception of mental illness

Another area that I have watched with interest over the last decade is the way mental illness is viewed and the stigma associated with it.

Thankfully I can say that we’re making some progress with this. When I was at school we never ever heard about mental illness. Now we have amazing campaigns like Time to Change’s Stand Up Kid, YoungMinds in Schools, Student Minds, The Acseed initiative and Mental Wealth.

But we still have a long way to go. I may now be very open about my mental health, something I definitely didn’t feel able to do 10 years ago, but I am part of a minority. I am lucky enough to have the support of my family, friends and importantly my employer. This has not always been the case and I have suffered discrimination in the workplace because of my health as have many thousands of others. We need to create an environment in our country where it is okay to talk about how we feel.

I think that the recent ASDA/Tesco “mental patient” costume scandal is a very good example of some of the stigma we still face in society. Although having said that, the fact that this story hit the news as hard as it did is actually quite heartening. It wouldn’t have made mainstream news 10 years ago.

I also recently ran into the anti-psychiatry movement founded by Scientology, the ironically named Citizens Commission on Human Rights. As I stated in my blog here this was really shocking for me. I know people struggle with the idea that children can experience distress and mental illness but to run head first into people that don’t believe that mental illness exists at all?

There is definitely a lot of work still to be done to help educate people but I also know that there are lots of fantastic organisations, too many to name, fighting daily to reduce stigma and increase awareness.

So overall how is the state of children and young people’s mental health in 2013? I don’t think we can say clearly that it is “better” or “worse” than it was 10 years ago. There have been improvements, there have been set backs but perhaps, if I am dangerously optimistic, I would say things are gradually improving in some ways.

What we need now is for proper investment in children and young people’s mental health, and in mental health in general. For too long it has been a Cinderella service and we cannot continue this way. Research shows both that over half of adults with a mental health issue developed it by the age of 14 and that prevention and early intervention work and save both money, and more importantly lives, in the long run.

The Kat returns after quite an absence

shutterstock_122492893Hello dear readers,

I must firstly apologise from what feels like a very lengthy absence from the blogosphere for me, it was certainly not intentional but as it turned out quite unavoidable.

Those who have been paying attention will know that since August last year i have been working for YoungMinds and NHS London’s My Health London to produce an app and website for young people in the capital.

After a few false starts and issues at the beginning we are now working at full pace and racing towards a release date which has been set as mid-March..not leaving much time to get everything ready for launch.

We have developers, designers and young people working closely together to produce something that we hope will answer point five of the State of Mind manifesto and help young people find help when they need it most.

I will be releasing sneek peaks over the next few months as we get closer to launch so:

1. Watch this space

2. Follow me on Twitter at @KittyCormack

We will also be launching a website next month and i can’t wait for you all to see it.