When faced with my demons I clothe them and feed them…


Oh God. I called M’s social worker this morning and he called me back this afternoon.

I’m still in shock. It’s a serious offence.  He’s in Pentonville, not the psychiatric wing,  just in the general prison.

I can’t say more at the moment: confidentiality.

[Pentonville is the most violent prison in the UK for prisoner assaults.]

After talking for about half an hour to the social worker, I had to go into my therapy group. I felt depressed, angry and in shock. I cried. The group wasn’t much help today – I just felt even worse about myself, because I didn’t care about the other people’s problems. I called a cab to get home.

I’m in tears writing this.

That’s it really.



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