Sharing my concerns in order to fight.

Warning - the following is horrific. 

I’ve been trying to write this blog post for days, weeks, months now. 

A long time. 

During this long time –  that feels like no time at all -

I have felt more pain than ever before. I have felt unsure about what to do and what relevance anything has now. 
I have avoided social situations, because 'I don't know what I am doing right now or in the coming year and no, I'm not alright.' 
I have felt more guilt, more shame, more rage, more loss than I knew possible. I have failed to process who this new person is and felt alien in my body. I have cancelled nearly everything, pulled back, ran into the mountains, hidden, kept away, kept busy, ground to a halt and watched everything and everyone continue around me.

Time makes little sense now.

My therapist says I am experiencing an ongoing dissociative episode - due to PTSD. 

I tried to write this blog again after my residency at forest fringe – one of the things I didn’t cancel - I had set it as a goal to be ok by then, to be around people again, to be more myself.
I didn't succeed in all of those goals, I was not ok and I didn't write that blog post -- Thank you all those of forest fringe - it was good to be around you - thank you for being so supportive - sorry these thanks are late. 

I was advised by my lawyer to not say anything publicly until I had as much information as possible and still then to tread carefully, to not place blame or say anything defamatory publicly.

I am only allowed to express my concerns.

At the end of March 2015 my sister died in a mental health hospital from aspiration pneumonia.

This is classed as a natural cause death.

She was 30 years old.

I am concerned that my ongoing concerns for her health and safety were ignored. 

I am concerned that her life was not valued. 

I am concerned her death was avoidable.

I am concerned that after years of asking for regular information into my sister’s care and treatment - or just any information at all - I have now seen all of her medical records and the more I know, the more I am aware of how little I knew and how much was withheld from me.

I am concerned that it is impossible to find out how many other young vulnerable people are dying in mental health facilities, because this information is not researched correctly or is hidden from public view.

I am concerned that my previous concerns about budget cuts to important mental health services would lead to poorer quality care and more deaths has been personally verified. 

I am concerned that all my concerns came true. 

I am writing this because it’s still not real and although I can say it out loud and type it on my computer my brain will not process that any of this has actually happened.

I can’t get my head to understand that I’m never going to speak to, or laugh with, the person who I have known the longest and loved the most.

This is probably because I don’t want it to be real, but in order to sustain myself in the huge fight for justice that I have in front of me - I need my brain to start processing that it is real and i’m hoping that sharing this is the start of that.

I need to be well to fight - so I am sharing my concerns. 

There will be more - this is just the beginning. 

I will need help and I will be asking for it. 

Note - if you know me this is news is new to you - I'm sorry I haven't said anything - I haven't known how. And if at any point recently Ive ignored you, not said hello, not replied to emails - im sorry aswell. 

All of this is fucking hard - so if you want to speak to me and don't know what to say, don't worry I don't know what to say either, but it's good to be seen and heard.

(All those of you who have sent messages - thank you)