Feel at the mercy of people who do not understand me and show cruelty toward me

IN Feb of 2017 my Consultant took me off, on a gradual basis, admittedly, my clopixol injection and onto aripiprozole on the basis the clopixol had been causing weight issues, but I found coming off the clopixol caused me to have rather unpleasant withdrawal symptoms which were not compensated by the introduction of aripiprazole.

Instead of allowing me to go through the transition regarding the two medications in the comfort of my own rather palatious and beloved home, my beautiful open plan modern flat, where the housework had got just a little behind, I had at first two medical people I had never seen before in my life, round to my flat pestering me into being sectioned, in front of, at the time, visiting members of my family who had come over purely to help me, who were that afternoon sent away but came back twice ringing my doorbell late at night and eventually forced me to open the door to them again late at night, and sectioned me, complete with about no less than ten tall disturbingly unfamiliar big tall police men, ambulance men and various officialdom.

I learned on the afternoon of my unceremonious sectioning that my sister, herself rumoured to have untreated autism, had been in touch with the authorities to have a right old, and regular with her, complaining session about me and that that had led to my being sectioned. The only name I was given by my sister, who informed me out of the blue that someone was arriving to “talk” to me, in averted commas, I assumed one person, but was wary obviously as she can be very vindictive, was the name of Chick and after a six weeks section on two different wards, so lots of disturbing disruption to my life pattern and being totally out of my comfort zone, I was unable to identify this person called Chick and my sister flys into a rage whenever I try to discuss it and maintains that its in the past, and has no empathic qualities whatsoever, or indeed people skills regarding my predicament.

I'll agree my housework was a little behind, because of the withdrawal symptoms from clopixol, but is sectioning in the middle of the night, by no less than 10 strange people ergo unfamiliar to you up till then, placing on two different wards, and taking out of my comfort zone of my flat, any way to treat people who are artistically serving the community with interesting art projects and does the panel believe medications such as aripiprazole, relatively new to the market, and said to be less weight gaining, but not as effective, should be introduced, and why was my case not handled more sensitively, ergo my being allowed to stay in my flat till the transition had been more complete from the two medications, and I had got on top of it again, and why was the word of a calculating aggressive relative taken and the whole thing carried out like so much meat on a conveyor belt, sorry to use strong wording there but I feel I have a salient point.

If I discuss the matter with my consultant I fear he will hit the conventional “ah patient is paranoid again” button and up my medication or worse consult with my unsympathetic sister, who believe me would have the entire populace excluding herself of course, sectioned at the drop of a hat, if she had the chance?

I ask myself sometimes how as a talented up and coming poet living uninterrupted in the community for over seven years now, be in such fools hands? It's totally indelicate and cavalier what happened to me and I feel incredibly let down, how can I stop this from happening again as I no longer even trust my family now, since this dreadfully intimidating experience.

And why are the conventional panic buttons about classic schizophrenic so called episodes, regularly pushed instead of what could have been a comfortable transistion had I been allowed to stay on familiar territory, my beautiful flat which I love so much and feel is in my regular comfort zone?

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