I was just 15 when I experienced my first mental health crisis. Despite the fact that I had been struggling with bouts of anxiety and self-harming behaviours for years leading up to that, the summer of 2013 was the first time in my life where I thought it would never get better, and I therefore reasoned that it would be better, and less painful, to end it now.
It was around this time that I joined the Instagram recovery network. For those of you who don’t know, it’s a whole little sub-section of the Instagram world in which (mostly) young people struggling with mental illness, create a sort of update diary on how they are and what’s happening in terms of their wellbeing. It can be very comforting to have other people messaging, supported, and relating to you.
The recovery network was toxic to me for numerous reasons. I subconsciously picked things up by reading them, I got upset when I read that my friends, the people who I had grown to know and love, were in a shitty place themselves. It did trigger me at times, but in those years when my mental health was neglected not only by mental health services but by basically everyone around me, it was solace. It was a private place where I could open up and let it all out.
Sophie Payne was one of the first people who I became friends with on the Instagram recovery network. We then went on to have each other as friends on other social media sites. She texted me when she was upset. She gave me advice about inpatient life and the general struggles of having BPD. I read her poems for her and sometimes gave her feedback (which was always, always positive. She was super talented). She was beautiful, brave, extremely talented, and above all, she was kind. She was kind to everyone who knew her.
Sophie was let down by mental health services. She had been inpatient many times and had sometimes been discharged before she was safe. In her last admission, she was waiting for a personality disorder unit bed (she was excited and hopeful to finally be able to recover properly), when she sadly passed away. In the unit that she was in, Queen Mary’s Roehampton, other people had died on the ward since 2010. It’s negligence. This could have been prevented.
Sophie was passionate and always voiced her opinions on problems with mental health services. Part of her really wanted to get better, and she wanted to help other people. She was really bright. She was insightful. When I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, she talked to me about it. She helped me understand.
It’s such a shock to lose a friend like this. When someone you know is sent back to inpatient, it’s distressing to know they are in a crisis, but you feel comfort. You feel like in the unit, your friend or family member will be kept safe. That they will be looked after. That they will be able to come out of the process much happier and healthier. You expect them back. Nobody should be able to take their own life inside the walls of a psychiatric unit. This is supposed to be the one place where psychiatric patients are indefinitely safe. This is the second time year that I’ve sadly been proven wrong.
Sophie Payne will remain to me always as a beacon of kindness and immense bravery. She fought (and won) many battles, and was always there to help support her friends. She was a fundamental part of the recovery community and someone who will be missed by all of us who were lucky enough to know her. You gave me hope Soph, and I’m so sorry the world couldn’t give you more.
SAMARITANS UK 24/7 LINE – 116 123