Mind Yer Heid is an independent, nonprofit mental health magazine, publishing personal, professional and hybrid stories of mental health.


For many years I’ve suffered
depression, anxiety and panic attacks. 
I’ve had some decent doctors and some dreadful ones.

I had been to my doc in Castlemilk last year. 
I asked for a referral to a Community Psychiatric Nurse
or psychiatrist so they referred me to a centre. 

I moved from Shawlands in July 2017. 
For the first eight months I only ever took my dog out.
I was getting worse so went to the doc again. 
I joined The Hidden Gardens men’s group and was 
seeing an occupational health therapist.

Once in the centre I spoke with a CPN 
For an hour, twice in two weeks. 
He got back to me on the phone and said he couldn’t help me
as I was doing the things he would have got me to do

to keep busy. 
Another door slammed in my face.

I have other health problems like
sciatica, IBS, acid reflux, nerve damage
from an operation to have my left testicle 

I applied for benefits in 2017. 
Got a health assessment, got six points.
Not enough for money, so appealed it. 
Failed it. 
Put another form in 2018, got zero points.
Appealed it, failed it.
On grounds that I can communicate and take my dog out.
Appealed that too. 
Two forms and two failed.

Upper tribunal last Monday.
My lawyer wanted me to go in manky, to swear, and to lie. 
My support was a pastor so no way I was swearing. 
I lost that upper 2017 appeal.

The stress of another meeting, 
the panic attacks and the acid reflux
that was giving me chest pains.
So I told them how it made me feel. 
I went in with six points and it got rejected
yet again. 

Dropped to zero points so no extra money.
Now all I get is £73.10 a week ‘cause I was put on
a work related group which means 
less money. 

Now I’m skint. 
Can’t afford dog food or food for myself.
Contacted a debt charity who assessed me
and said I’ve more going out than in
so I’ll need to go bankrupt. 

But to do that you need to pay £90. 
If I had 90 quid I wouldn’t be skint 
and would be able to buy food.

So now you know about doors 
closing on my face all the time. 

My journey with mental health