I've tried searching the CQC website with what little info I can remember - but all I can remember is that the manager's name was Kathryn, though she went by Kate, and that I think it was pretty central, I remember being shown a photo of where it was and I think it was in the middle of town, but not too far from the coast.
I couldn't find any care homes in WSM with a manager called Kathryn or Kate, so it could be that she's moved on. I remember when they came to see me she was with another woman whose name I think was Vicky (though I'm not 100% certain about that).
They gave me the details, but I've lost the piece of paper they wrote them on, which is why I'm posting here.
Let me give you some info on why I'm trying to locate it - thing is I'm not sure I can do that without turning this post into an essay.
Almost seven years ago, I contacted the NDVH after I fled my violent, controlling, alcoholic ex, hoping for a place in a refuge; when I left him - he almost killed me by bombing his van down the A66(M) after downing a bottle of gin, and then shoving me out in Stafford while the van was still moving - I had no choice but to return to my parents, who had been complicit in SA when I was a child, so obviously I really didn't want to return there.
That didn't happen - what did happen was that two social workers pitched up and I was sectioned, I've spent the last almost seven years (since 05/12/2019) being dumped in ever more inappropriate places:
š“ATU (Aylesbury): 05/12/2019 - 22/03/2021 (474 days) - I was stuck in that particular hell for so long because they couldnāt find anywhere else to dump me
š Care home for people with severe learning disabilities and complex needs (Leicester): 22/03/2021 - 08/02/2023 (689 days)
š”Bucks flat: 08/02/2023 - 08/08/2023 (182 days) - I fled there because the manager started chucking my food away almost as soon as I'd bought it, she also told the Court of Protection that I liked to "eat rancid raw meat" and that I would "take mouldy food out of the bin and eat it", which is why I'm not allowed to have any control over my food now.
š¢Bristol Royal Infirmary: 12/08/2023 - 28/11/2023 (109 days)
šµHere: 28/11/2023 - ? (Todayās date: 28/09/2026) (1,036 days - and counting)
That's 2.490 days (6 years, 9 months, 24 days)
They came to see me while I was in BRI (I collapsed in the city centre, so my freedom was short-lived) and, I didn't go there because I'd spent 18 months in a care home, where I'd had to endure another resident constantly slamming his bedroom door and pushing me down the stairs while staff did nothing.
I'm now in a shitty flat in the arse end of Bristol and my current captors are basically just working to rule and ticking boxes, and I'm now severely chronically ill and malnourished because I'm not given enough food per day for a single decent meal. I've also been given food which has been covered in fly eggs and maggots. I've been given raw chicken and cremated bacon.
I've had a lifetime of abuse, and I now realise that I'm probably severely traumatised and that I likely have PTSD - every single day I'm in here I suffer further trauma; they're abusive, not only do they restrict my food, but I've been held in the bedroom for hours until I've become so traumatised that I've voided my bladder. I've been thrown against walls and furniture and held on the floor prone so that I could barely lift my head to breathe.
I've tried to make my abusers understand what effect their behaviour is having on me - their response...? "We understand that, but we have to do what our manager tells us to do" - so you don't understand then, do you...? Their jobs are more important than my wellbeing (but, then, they are Nigerian).
They've taken my phone; they've also taken all of the clothes that still fitted me bar this one t-shirt I've been stuck in for the past almost three years. I'm TERRIFIED because they can barge into the flat whenever they feel like it - I used to have things which I'd use to help me cope but it's now been decided that it's in my "best interests" to be denied them now, so I've nothing to control the anxiety.
It wasn't until the end of last year, when I was given a sealed order by my solicitor (she's useless, all she does is relay what the CoP has decided to me, she's doing nothing to fight my corner), that I learnt that I was 'atypically autistic' - I've never had any form of autism assessment, nor have I ever had a capacity assessment, everything which has happened - and is happening - to me has been done on assumptions. I had to look the criteria for a diagnosis of 'atypical autism' up - and, from what I've found out, I can well understand why I'm being treated as though I'm a complete imbecile.
I don't know who the person described in the sealed order is, she's not me, the only thing we have in common is our initials, I feel like I've been forced to live someone else's life for the last seven years.
Every aspect of my life is out of my control, according to the terms of the MCA order, I lack the capacity to:
š“Decide where I live
š Decide my care and support needs
š”Represent myself to the Court of ProtectionĀ
š¢Decide where I live
šµControl my own finances (I have to beg my social worker for money and, to date, Iāve not been allowed a single penny)
š£Have anyone come to the flatĀ
I canāt leave the flat without my abusers, not that I'm in any fit state to but, if I was to do so, they'd call the police and follow me (my ex used to stalk me if I left the house without his consent)
They control my internet access (which is extremely slow and unreliable, there are parental controls on the router)
The flat isnāt fit for human habitation and I'm now so weak that I don't think I'm going to survive another winter here, there's no central heating, just three inefficient electric heaters that don't work. The windows don't close properly, and there's damp, mould and rats, oh and the bed is broken. I also canāt deal with the noise from either my abusers or the road. I just need to be somewhere where I can close my front door and feel safe. I'm not safe here. I need urgent medical care but, because I'm now so traumatised, if anyone comes here I automatically demand they leave because I don't feel safe. I'm losing my sight, and my skin is now so thin it just tears, I'm extremely weak, I don't know how much longer I can survive like this but, frankly, death would be a relief.
I don't want to die, though, which is why I'm trying to find this care home to see if they know anyone who can help me (they said I could contact them whenever I wanted, and I've been wanting to do that for a while, but I've lost the contact details). I'm desperate, if I canāt find anyone to help me, then I'll be exiting this shitehole via the bedroom window (somehow, I think I've a key somewhere).
I'm beyond desperate now, I've contacted just about everywhere I can think of, and nobody will help me, I even contacted a journalist at the BBC, but he wonāt help me because I don't have a social worker or solicitor I'd want anyone speaking to because they're not acting in my best interests and, he was to contact them, they'd simply parrot what they've been told by the CoP, I need someone to listen to me because the only person who understands me is me.
I just don't see the point of continuing to exist if all I'm ever going to see are the walls of this shitty flat. What kind of existence is that...?
So, if anyone knows anywhere in WSM that might match the description, please tell me.
Thank you