I am not yet ready to fully explain what happened with the psychiatrist last week. I am still confused about who I truly am and my purpose. I am deeply depressed and have only survived this weekend thanks to my partner and that burden should not fall onto his shoulders.

But mostly I am hurt. To have papers on my medical file saying I am a bad person, a person, who of which, lies and is violent towards others, is a file saying I am like my father before me and this I know to be untrue.

My father was a monster. He is a rapist, murderer, wife beater, child abuser and master manipulator. He is not kind or capable of genuine emotive expressions. He can only blend in and place the right behaviours in the correct situation in order to get what he requires for his next move. A sociopathic of sorts.

I will NEVER be like my father.

I have never hurt a child. I was the hurt child.

I could never force a person, of any age or gender, to perform for my sexual gratification. I am the one who has been forced.

I would never be able to use my hands to end a life. I am the one who holds others confessions.

I will never be my father and to suggest that I am is the biggest insult but I think Mr Kershaw (I refuse to refer to him as a doctor) knows that.

That man was purposely poking at my wounds. He clearly wanted a reaction of anger and he did get that. I verbally told him, without raising my tone, that he was making my mad, as a pulled at my own hair to stop my anger becoming an explosive rage.

I am in control. I am able to swallow my emotions and tuck them inside. But they are not safe in there. We have science to tell us than suppressed emotions and stress literally cause sickness. I am a strong candidate for this phenomenon. However I am now told I am not sick at all. I am mentally well and physically well and I am lying about those thing altogether it seems. I didn’t even know. Apparently I can end this whole thing and yet I sat and stared at the wall for hours this weekend only pausing to cry and talk of how desperately I needed to slice my skin into a gross wound of flesh stained by blood.

I have a lot to do this week. I am making a complaint. This will require me to make a lot of calls to other professionals to get clarification. I also need to collect character references. I will not be called a liar, I will not have ‘violent patient’ on my form and I will not be tarnished by my fathers wrongs.