I can’t do this.

That’s what I remember thinking as I lay wailing in my bed, my mother stroking my hair. My heart felt like it was hammering against my chest, my breathing was quick and shallow, and every fibre of my body was tense.   

I was certain I was dying, and I was terrified.   

This was February 2025, during my second mental breakdown. I’d had my first four years earlier and hoped I’d gone through the worst of my mental illness – I was wrong.  

This time it was much worse, partly because I was completely and utterly burnt out, and yet, it’s been six months and I still haven’t received any treatment on the NHS.  

Like so many others – on average, there are 16,522 people waiting for treatment 18 months after the initial referral – I’m just another name on a long list of those waiting to get help from mental health services. 

I’ve always been an anxious person. Since childhood, I’ve suffered with incredibly low self-esteem, rapidly fluctuating moods, and difficulties controlling my anger. But it took until my mid-twenties to be diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD).

Still, I never thought I’d end up in A&E. 

In 2021, during an already stressful stage of my life – my then-partner and I weren’t happy together, I was struggling to establish myself as a freelance journalist, and was generally feeling lost – I had a slight reaction from the hair dye my hairdresser used.

Due to having severe health anxiety, I started to worry the tingling on my scalp was something serious. This ultimately triggered three days of continuous panic attacks; a sustained onslaught of feeling like I was about to die at any moment.   

Even once they eased, I spent the next two weeks convinced this feeling of pure, undiluted fear wouldn’t stop. That I’d be stuck like this forever. 

To be trapped in fight or flight mode for such a prolonged period of time is awful. There’s no respite.

As a result, my road to recovery took months. I received help from the NHS crisis team who checked in every day to see how I was doing and was also referred to local mental health services. However, due to the wait, I ended up paying to see a private therapist.  

Despite having a lot to overcome – including the break down of my 10-and-a-half year relationship – in that time, I did eventually weather the storm and, rather naively, I thought I’d never hit rock bottom again.

Fast forward to February 2025, however, and I was struggling again. Stresses at my full-time job led to burnout and, by the time I took a week off on the recommendation of my boss, I was emotionally and physically exhausted.

That’s when I experienced my second breakdown.   

Just like before, I was having panic attacks multiple times a day: I couldn’t eat, I barely slept, and every twinge and ache was a sign, I thought, that I was on the cusp of death. And, this time, I was too drained to claw my way out of the hole I found myself in.  

It was so bad that my mother came to stay with me for a few days because I couldn’t handle being alone when my new partner went to work.  

At its worst, I lay shaking and sobbing on my bed as my partner spoke to the doctor. All I remember him saying was that I couldn’t be left like this and that he was incredibly worried about me.

My GP prescribed me some diazepam there and then, over the phone, and made a fresh referral on my behalf to the local mental health services.

Yet even in my distressed state, I wasn’t foolish enough to think I’d get help immediately – my previous, awful, experiences had made me jaded.

Unsurprisingly, I’d still not heard anything about the referral almost two weeks later. It was only when I raised this with my GP and they chased the referral, that I finally had a telephone assessment on March 13.

This isn’t a form of treatment though. Rather, it’s a means of helping local services determine where to send you next.   

Despite my medical notes from that call clearly stating that my self-harm risk at that time was ‘significant’, I still wasn’t fast-tracked for any type of treatment. 

I’m not ignorant to the strain on NHS resources, but to have someone go months without treatment after having a mental breakdown is disgraceful. Without such a strong support network around me, I dread to think where I’d be today.  

It wasn’t until July that I finally received an in-person appointment with a clinician to assess next steps.

She took a detailed account of my mental health history, told me I might get a medicine review, and that I’d be given information about progressing with an autism assessment. 

Unfortunately, nothing has happened since – I haven’t even had therapy. 

The end of August marked six months of me waiting. Six months of having to endure this mental health crisis without the aid of services designed to help people like me.  

How am I – how is anyone – meant to get their lives back on track when there is so little help readily available?   

I’ve been passed around from GPs to clinicians like the last chocolate in the tin nobody wants. Their polite and sympathetic demeanour means little when I’m so desperately in need of treatment. So, quite frankly, I’m angry.  

And the fact that gimmicks like free football tickets are being trialled as a way to treat mental health, is laughable. It isn’t the solution we’re begging for.

Subtle, minimal changes aren’t enough to improve NHS mental health services. A complete overhaul, alongside a significant influx of funding, is needed.  

There needs to be proactive care options rather than reactive ones and we need appointments when we’re in need, not once we’ve hazily navigated our way through the fog by ourselves. And to be honest, any kind of update on care would be a step up from where we are now.

Sadly, I don’t think any of this will happen any time soon, so all I can do now is chase up referrals and wait for some kind of response. Constantly having to advocate for yourself because health professionals aren’t is soul destroying.

Nobody should have to beg for treatment. And yet the fact remains that I’m one of the lucky ones: many people who don’t manage to hold on long enough to receive treatment.

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing Ross.Mccafferty@metro.co.uk. 

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