This time was the start of my wall building. Every single person I had ever cared for had left me. Even my mum dying, now I know that was silly but as a kid it just seemed no 1 wanted me. My gran dies, my mum dies then the twins (the worst part) are taken away and after all that my Aunt and Uncle seem to have thrown us out.
While in the children's home I spent a lot of time in tears. Feeling unwanted and unloved, because of this it was decided that I should see a physciatrist this was the start of a long relationship with people in the mental health dept of local hospitals.
The hospital was called Stratheaden and it was in a tiny village called Springfield. The actual visit there wasn't to bad, it was in a lovely wee cottage near a stream and the doc let me play in the sandpit and with these dolls which felt a little weird but hey it was a pleasant enough afternoon.
When I got back to the home I noticed that most of the staff were different with me. They spent more time watching, talking and asking how I was. At the time it made me feel weird, why was I different?
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