Read a real story by Charlie to find out about what it's like to suffer from a personalitly disorder.
I first began feeling 'low' when I was only 12 years old after being bullied for two years. I would tell teachers and they would tell the bullies off but nothing really was done.
I moved classes and that's when everything stopped. But although my parents thought I was fine, I was hiding the truth that I was still hurting.
I took my first overdose at 12, and made a few more attempts at suicide
after that. But my parents didn't know because I didn't tell them.
I wanted to die. I wrote a suicide note one day and my mum found it. I was referred to a psychologist
who admitted me to an adolescent mental health unit
and that's when I made my road to recovery.
There to help
I was scared at first; there were strange people around me and teenagers I didn't even know.
I kept things bottled up inside me and for a couple of weeks I was put on 1:1 observations, which is where you have a staff with you 24/7. I was glad they had a set routine which means you don't get bored and I soon learnt that the staff at the hospital all want to help.
I built relationships with the other teenagers and most of them were in the same boat as me. I had a primary nurse who co-ordinated my care and made sure I received the care that I needed.
The staff understood that I had a phobia of meetings and didn't pressure me into attending them, which really helped my confidence.
There was a student nurse at the hospital who I built a very strong relationship with and she was the first person I ever learnt to trust.
I enjoyed the different therapies that the hospital offered like music therapy and art therapy
and they all lifted my self-esteem.
On the weekends I would be escorted by a nurse to the local shops, or just for a walk, and soon I was trusted enough to have unescorted leave so I could go home by myself.
By the end of five months I had improved so much that I received my discharge date.
I had gone into hospital self-harming
and with depression and left with a clear head and a diagnosis of a personality disorder.
I cried when I was discharged; I missed the love and support that the staff all showed me but I left with a better understanding of myself.
I was scared so much when they admitted me to the hospital but I left wanting to return. Yeah, the food was rubbish but I made great friends and learnt to trust again.
This story may have been edited for editorial and confidentiality reasons only.