Disclaimer: trigger warnings for serious and heavy discussions surrounding poor mental health, and the associated negative impacts of such experiences. This is an opinion piece.

The NHS system is notorious for its shortcomings. The mind-boggling waiting times, the poor communication between staff, and the overall anxiety as you sit in an uncomfortable office as a doctor is typing what seems – a full length dissertation, the rhythmic tapping pausing momentarily, as they ask further questions.  

So, how does CAMHS (Children and Adolescent Mental Health Services), a service for one of the most vulnerable age-groups, children to adolescents, fail us? What does it mean for individuals waiting for a diagnosis or lack thereof? What does it mean for those needing help from a system that seems to be designed to dispense advice around tea and baths to those in crisis?

1  1. Challenging Beginnings

Late 2019, early 2020s, COVID hit me harder than I had anticipated.  After a few scares, my parents called up the GP, and we had a few, relatively awkward conversations over the phone. A video call, a promise to contact CAMHS and put me on the waiting list.

I had been through this gig before, or so I thought, though my earlier ventures were cut short. In P4 (aged 9), I spoke to the GP, and they assessed me for depression. I was told that I would not be referred as… it was not bad enough.

Of course, I cannot remember the exact phrasing, but that message would stick with me, a second skin that I could never shed, a constant pressure and reminder from a system that was supposed to help me, that I was not ‘sick enough’.

Then, again in P6 (aged 10). Not abnormal ‘enough’. Not taking into consideration that a child who sought out a professional, believing that they may be depressed, is very much struggling with mental health otherwise. And that was the end of it. In and out.

I was not struggling enough.

And so, I ask, how sick, is sick enough? Is prevention not better than cure? How long, how much does a child need to suffer in order to access mental health support?

And so, the answer, it would seem, would be until your life is on the line. And even then, the priority list takes five months. And in the meantime, it was up to us to continue applying the pressure so that they would actually see me as they promised.

Five months to be seen by a psychologist. Five months of no support, no help, no contact, and potential hospitalisation if things went south. Five months more of waiting is insanity to ask.

I was fortunate enough that we could afford to go private, for a while. But if I had not, I wonder, what would be of me now?

2    2. First (fifth?) Contact

Many young people going through this system feel as though they are passed around like a hot potato, from one hand to the next, to the next, in an endless cycle of frustration.

I know that’s how I felt.

I know that those frustrations are shared by my peers, worried adults, and teachers alike.

By this time, I had talked to various psychologists, one psychiatrist, and left my second therapist for my new CAMHS clinician. Bless her heart, she tried, but we never quite clicked. I stuck with her, despite it, and my previous hope had been switched out for apathy. I stuck with her because I was scared to have to wait again to see another psychologist, another face, and another person I would have to trust with my difficult childhood and mental menagerie.

I cannot say that these circumstances are ideal for a struggling teen.

Finally, after having contacted the GP separately around ADHD, then having a trainee psychologist suggest ASD, I began the infuriating process of acquiring a diagnosis.

3.  Fourth Time’s a Charm

I eventually had to switch over to yet another psychologist in the middle of my ASD assessment. It had already taken a couple months, then now three more on the waiting list, the process continued, and I have never been so fortunate in my enjoyment of questionnaires. There had already been more than a fair few on my end, taking valuable time out of therapy, and the process had been delayed through contacting my school for when they were both available to take time out of their busy schedules.  

I sat in a constant stasis, a limbo of uncertainty as to when this would end. My psychologist tried to keep me up to date but it didn’t stop me from worrying. The system had failed me before, what’s to say that it will not again? Though this time, I did not know how.

Eventually, after an ADOS in August, I was diagnosed with ASD in January of this year.

4  4. Reflections

When I wrote out my experiences with CAMHS, or the approach to a child’s mental health as a whole, I felt a great weight on my shoulders.

The NHS is notoriously understaffed, underfunded, and lacking in a great deal of resources. The NHS is a notoriously difficult system to navigate in order to get healthcare, in order to get healthcare quickly, in order to get the healthcare you need.

Where do you seek for help? What numbers do you call?

I was told by CAMHS that they did not help during crisis, after I called NHS 111, who later referred me to a GP, who shocked me out of my slump through sheer ineptitude in dealing with my situation. In a way, I suppose it worked, but I digress.

I wonder how many others have been in situations like me, every hour another step on that dreaded tightrope, pleading for help as the light struggles to flicker a flame.

And let it be known that my experience is one of the positive ones. I got healthcare, however long that took, and however much calling and dialling up the contacts to ask for the next appointment. I was seen, and I’m seeing a wonderful psychologist now, who’s very lovely. My mental health is improving.

But not every one is as lucky as I am. Not all the mental health professionals people have seen are as helpful as mine have been – it is like a lottery. And I suppose, I won.

But when you look back at my tale, how sad, how awful it is, that this is what it means to have been lucky in this system, to have won. Surely, it is imperative that we fix these issues, that the government takes a step back, and truly looks at the broken, dismal state of affairs.

So let my story and experiences be food for thought, and to those currently sailing against the waves for your mental health in an ocean of whirlpools, I wish you the very best.  You deserve to be seen, and not have your spirit beaten down by waiting times and unhelpful conversations. You deserve to get the help that you need, before you enter the proverbial danger zone. You do not have to be ‘sick enough’ to seek support.

You are suffering, and that is enough.

And to those family, siblings, friends, or even acquaintances of those in a great struggle against the system and themselves, I beg of you compassion, and I implore you to be gentle. To extend understanding and empathy towards these individuals. And I hope that through sharing my experiences, it can help further that understanding. The NHS system is difficult, and that is on top of what they are already struggling with.

We need to make change. We need to talk about it. And it cannot only be those affected, as I know I, myself, had been far too tired and stretched thin to raise up my voice of complaint.

We are the future - why are we being failed like this?