The green car

Later that same day social services rang. I again repeated what I said to the mental health team lady. I explained to her that I was fine. I reiterated I was not psychotic and didn’t need medication. I asked her to close the referral but I think my adamancy came across the wrong way. She said she wanted to meet me and I reluctantly agreed. I realised that protesting would look bad.

The next day she arrived in her bright green car. I let her in without fuss. I find it difficult to remember the details of our conversation. But I remember her saying that I was not engaging with the mental health team and was being difficult to get on the phone to speak with. I was flabbergasted. First, I answered my phone each time and there were good reasons why it took three attempts to have a proper conversation.

Social worker stayed for nearly two hours and I felt I was being interrogated. I had also booked a food delivery that day but forgotten about it. She looked out the window and asked if I was expecting one. I was and said blatantly that I thought she would have been gone by now. She helped me with the shopping and we returned to the interrogation. We agreed that I would engage with mental health services as it was obvious I was struggling with depression.

She left eventually and later that day the mental health lady called and said she would write to GP to get me started on 50mg Sertraline. I reluctantly agreed but later that day I changed my mind and told her I didn’t want to take it. This news got back to the social worker and I got another call from her. She wanted to visit again. I said fine. What was the point in arguing. It would make things worse.

She visited again and stood outside the door but no one came to answer the door. She rang me obviously thinking I had stood her just up but it transpired she was standing at the wrong house. Two seconds later she was in front of my house in her bright green car. I had a smirk on my face as I opened the door. She didn’t find it amusing.

That visit lasted a whole morning and by some miracle baby boy stayed asleep throughout it. Social worker had come with an intervention. She had printed on A3 sheets big bold statements of how my mental health was messing up my baby boys life into adulthood. I was under attack. I was already feeling not good enough and struggling with mood, and now here was someone trying to say I was doing damage to my baby boy. Angry I went through each statement and argued my side. I had fight in me. The one thing I wouldn’t allow was for my struggle to affect baby boy. Some may argue that inadvertently I was but me and my husband would have strongly and firmly said no. He was talked to, loved, cuddled, never left to cry, taken to baby groups, smiled at, played with, well fed and clean. I showed her photos of baby boy smiling and being loved. Also realise that each visit baby boy was either needed to be put to sleep or was asleep so she didn’t really have much opportunity to see me interact with him. She would later put in her report that of what she did see, was me going through the motions for the sake of her presence there.

At the end of the meeting I felt bruised. I had been in a ‘fight’ trying to defend myself. She offered to see me again but I declined. She suggested a family support worker from the children centre. I wasn’t sure what the purpose of this was but I agreed. I also agreed to perinatal mental health team lady to visit me. Having received the mental health team assessment letter made me realise I should cooperate and get help.

In between these visits and following the second visit from social services I started to get suspicious of things around me. I started to worry about vans and cars outside being social services surveillancing me. I was adamant that a green car was following me.

Mental health lady visited me and I explained about this happening. She said that she would have to refer me to CMHT as I was displaying psychotic features. I argued I wasn’t and I didn’t want any referral made. She arranged to come see me again.