Looking back over the months since the beginning of February I am beginning to count the cost of being a psychiatric survivor activist. The bullying, intimidation, slandering of my reputation and attacks on my family. By people who should be protecting the rights of vulnerable people and respecting carers.
It's been an interesting journey, my decent into the bowels of the psychiatric system. Something of an adventure, like fairy tales of old and time travel movies. I've always liked adventures, from reading Enid Blyton's Famous Five and Secret Seven stories as a child. When good triumphs and the baddies get their comeuppance.