Dear Rachel

This afternoon has driven me to the brink of complete insanity/breakdown. I’ve been trying to chase up my referral, and no one seems to be able to tell me anything. My most hideous conversation was with a lady called Rachel. I know her name only because she chastised me for not noting down the names of every person I’ve spoken to. In a very condescending manner.

So my post today is for you, dear Rachel. I feel you may need to reconnect with you empathetic side. You are not better than me. You are not allowed to speak to me as though I am a two year old asking for biscuits again. If I ask you a sensible question, please answer it. For example, dear Rachel, you told me you were not able to access my records. I asked when I should phone back and speak to someone who can, you told me that I can ask anyone, that everyone can access the records. I asked you why you could not, since you’ve just told me that everyone can. You didn’t answer me.

When dealing with people who are unfortunate enough to have an addiction, but brave enough to be asking for help, I think there should be a minimum level of pleasantness expected. I was crying on the phone to two separate people, neither of whom asked if I was ok. It took my twelve year old son to do that. I don’t think I expect the world, just some kindness from the people I’ve lent on for help.

I’ve idly wondered about the extremes one would have to go to in order to be dealt with quickly. I doubt I’m the only one who has done so. I worry that those who have less fortunate family circumstances may feel they have no option but to try an extreme method of asking for help. Conversely, I wonder how many people don’t have the strength to get through the wait and decide they will carry on with their addiction. Asking people to wait, with no reliable time scale, and no support, is dangerous.

I feel blessed though. Blessed to have three amazing children who have the empathy which seems missing in so many adults. Who take the time to hug me, smile at me, care about why I’m upset. Who even feign an interest in Lego so that we can spend hours together keeping my mind focussed on something more constructive. Even my two year old knows, without me saying a word, when I feel sad. It doesn’t take genius, it just requires the person to listen as well as talk, and to think deeper about the addict on the other end of the phone. Please care, dear Rachel.

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6 thoughts on “Dear Rachel

  1. Sarah Pryor says:

    Chloe I feel your pain and have experienced the ‘extreme’ way to get help quickly…both of my daughters have tried to commit suicide. Sapphire’s last attempt hospitalised her, however this did not remedy the problem (not that I am in any way endorsing this action) she has been without a psychotherapist now for 3 months and in that time has self admitted for fear of yet another attempt. To be honest I feel like it doesn’t matter what you do nothing changes. She now sees her psychiatrist more who just wants to play with her medication, even though she knows it makes her feel like shit!
    It comes in waves and all you can do is put your wet suit on grab your board and get out there hoping you don’t wipe out!
    Your amazing children are testament to YOU just remember that when you are riding the wave.

    • So much love Sarah xx. It must hurt like hell seeing your child go through that and not being able to help. If this were a more “popular” illness there would be an outcry at all this 😦

  2. Sarah Pryor says:

    Too true Chlo it’s just not trendy…until some celeburtards chilkd goes through it then it will be!!! We call it life and trust me we laugh just as much as we cry! 😀

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