I’ve written at some length on this blog about child protection cases, and Baby P.
However there are lots of cases that don’t get so much media attention.
On the 18th October 1998 13-year-old Aliyah Ismail was pronounced dead after an overdose of methadone. She had been consistently failed by social services.
She was involved in child prostitution and had a chaotic life.
Aliyah had been moved 68 times during her short life – between her parents, social workers, foster carers and children’s homes. The police also picked her up on occasions.
Three weeks before her death took a long overdue decision to put her in secure accommodation to protect her, but they failed to fast track the process which would have meant her being detained. Unfortunately she had already absconded and ultimately this would lead to her death.
I’m’ just posting this because I thought of her today. She had a talent for languages and wanted to be a barrister when she grew up. She may have been living a nice life now, perhaps studying and reaching her potential if she had been properly protected.
I hope she is at peace.
The saddest thing is there will be more girls and boys like her falling through the net right now.
I don’t feel like whoever gets in at this election is going to really stop this, because children like Aliyah and many like her don’t hold much political weight.
especially so if one is slightly manic as I am at the moment. At one point
every single person seemed to be power walking whilst eating a baguette from
prêt a manger, which by the way seem to be taking over London. I was
terribly concerned at the pace they were eating; mass indigestion may
cripple the workforce.
I also went to East Street Market, which is an absolute gem, it’s a free for
all and some women are incredibly skilled at pouncing on their desired item.
After that I headed to Camberwell, which seemed like it was on the verge of
imploding. An argument broke out about women with buggies, one lady was
convinced the other was first and accused the other women of being deaf and
dumb, nice. Everything is so bright and fast, that could be my own perception but I got
out of there quick smart and headed to Borough Market where a cup of coffee
triples in price. I was fixated by the fish and wondered about buying some
but I find fish rather hard to get right and I’m in the sort of mood where
things need to be instant and I can’t be assed to mess about. I’ll probably
be on Heinz tomato soup and bread.
For those of you that follow this blog you’ll know that I have Bipolar
Disorder and at the moment things are not calm, lucky though as I’m getting
support daily from a great crisis team, they act as an alternative to
hospital and visit once or twice a day just to check in on your symptoms,
medication and your brain.
People criticise the NHS but there are some really good people in it, and
that’s what makes it. The tools are all there it’s just that some of the
horror stories we hear are staff perhaps people out of their depth or
slightly psychopathic, but this is rare. The majority care.
I think stigma and public perception of what mental illness is actually
contributes to people becoming ill. They become isolated, known as the
street or village nutter and therefore have limited support networks and
become ill frequently, and it’s hard for them to sustain recovery.
I wish there was more in the press about what it’s actually like to live
with a severe mental illness instead of all the stories of ‘schizo murders’.
Mental illness is not like breaking a leg, one can spend the whole of your
adult life having periods of wellness and then shattering relapses that
send you right back to the beginning. No wonder that suicides are high.
I often daydream and wish I had a lazy eye, a limp or something that I could
get on with, know how to deal with it and accept that it’s always there.
Bipolar is a beast of an illness as it can come and get you at any time,
even when you are compliant with medication.
I feel sad because some of my twenties have been ruined by this illness. Just
two years ago I was supposed to go to Cyprus with one of best friends but I
got sick just before and couldn’t go. I’d give anything to swim in a warm
sea right now.
My latest thing is that I want a puppy, not Paris Hilton style at
all but just something small, fluffy and low maintenance.
I hope calm returns after this storm.
The sky is quite amazing here in Bermondsey but no sign of the resurrection as yet. I’ve not given in to chocolate cravings today instead I’ve been on the blueberries. Usually I would be in North Wales, taking in the delicious smells as the roast cooks, instead I’m having a stir fry. I’ll get my Welsh roast dinner in the next 12 weeks.
I really want to take the train from London to Russia but money dictates that’s not possible unless some lunatic says yes to my credit demands!
Never underestimate the gift of being able to sleep at night.