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1. University of Central Lancashire (UCLan)
2. University of Nottingham
3. University of Surrey
4. University of Keele
5. University of Liverpool and Merseycare
6. Health Innovation East Midlands (HIEM)
7. Derbyshire Borderline Personality Disorder Support Group
8. (International) Justice Knowledge Hub

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1. Rethink Mental Illness
2. Prison Reform Trust (PRT)

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1. Revolving Doors Agency (RDA)
2. Health and Justice East Midlands
3. Healthwatch Derbyshire
4. Mental Health Together (MHT)

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The madness of the criminal justice system (linkedin, 2023)

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/madness-criminal-justice-system-personal-account-sue-wheatcroft/

The criminal justice system (CJS) is broken. Not many would disagree with this; some say it’s too lenient, some think it’s too harsh, and others believe it is much more complicated than that. I am in the third group, and this is because I have seen both sides. As a person with lived experience, I would like to give my take on why the system, as it stands, is unjust and not fit for purpose. But first, a little background…

At the age of eighteen, I chased an abusive boyfriend into the street with a kitchen knife. After months of physical and psychological abuse, I finally snapped. I was charged with possession of an offensive weapon and given a conditional discharge. Thirty-six years later, I was charged with possession of a bladed instrument after a kitchen knife, which I used to cut up takeaway food for my disabled partner, was found in the back of my car. For this, I was given twelve months in prison.

Although I had not been in trouble during those thirty-six years, the judge decided that I had an affinity with knives, hence the custodial sentence. He was also influenced by the fact that I had borderline personality disorder (BPD) and had verbally abused my psychiatrist, whose incompetence had led me to believe for over a year that I was on a waiting list for treatment when, in fact, I wasn’t and never had been.

As a result of my ‘abuse’ of the psychiatrist, I was told that I would not now, nor in the foreseeable future, receive any help from the community mental health service (CMHS). This did not affect me too much; they seemed to know very little about BPD, and I knew I wouldn’t receive adequate treatment, even if they were willing. However, this lack of awareness was also obvious in court, to my detriment.

Anyone who has experienced a first night in prison will recognise the emotions that I went through. Desperation, claustrophobia, helplessness, hopelessness, guilt, shame, anger. All these emotions come together as soon as that thick metal door is closed. I would liken it to being thrown in a hole; in my case it was in an old army barracks, and it was cold and filthy. I could hear rats scurrying around outside, waiting for the prisoners’ leftover food that was regularly thrown to them out of the window.

My distress was evident but was inconsequential to the officers. One thing I learned quickly was that as soon as you enter prison, you are automatically seen as a liar, and an attention-seeker. On my fifth day, I sat on my bed and set fire to the mattress. I didn’t know at the time that prison officers are trained firefighters and the hose soon appeared in a hole in the door, put there for that very scenario. For this, I was given another twelve months in prison.

Sentencing

In my experience, and that of others I have spoken to, there is very little compassion among crown court judges when sentencing. Furthermore, sentences are inconsistent, which can lead to the individual feeling a sense of injustice and even bitterness. I feel this often when hearing about those who commit horrendous crimes and yet do not receive a sentence as harsh as mine. I accept responsibility for what I did. The knife was in my car for a valid reason, but it was illegal, and I paid the price. Arson is a serious crime and, although no-one was hurt, it could have got out of hand. I know that I was ill at the time, I certainly didn’t want to hurt anyone apart from myself, but it was wrong and, again, I paid the price.

UK judges are meant to look holistically at an offender when it comes to sentencing. How can they do that if they do not understand the reasons why the offence has been committed? The police detective in charge of my case insisted that I was ‘bad not mad’. Personally, I don’t think I am either, but people in authority do love a cliché!  She was helped by the fact that BPD is highly stigmatised and misunderstood, and I truly believe that the judge was risk averse. What if he released me and I reoffended? He wasn’t taking the chance. In reality, there was far more chance of someone convicted for a violent crime reoffending than me.

There is evidence in some countries that individuals are more likely to be disposed of quicker and without much thought, if they appear in front of the judge in the afternoon, rather than the morning.[i] This phenomenon is called ‘decision fatigue’ and, although there have been no studies in the UK, I think it’s safe to say that it does happen here.   

The court set-up

Regardless of the offence, the court set-up disadvantages the individual from the start. Although the holding cells differ between courts, many are extremely small, single cells with no natural light and not even enough bench space to lie down. If someone is appearing in the courtroom for a short time, they can be in that cell for seven or more hours, waiting for transport back to prison. These cells are extremely claustrophobic and there is no stimulation unless the custody officer is kind enough to offer a magazine. It can be tremendously distressing for the defendant and can affect their appearance in court.

After being taken up to the courtroom, the accused is seated in a box behind a sheet of glass that has a narrow slit in the middle. Even those without hearing problems can find it difficult to follow the conversation and this is further hindered by the fact that the barristers stand with their backs towards the box.

A typical American court will have the individual sitting with their defence team and so if they disagree with anything that is said, they can give a message to their team. This doesn’t happen in UK courts and so it often happens that by the time the defendant speaks to the barrister at the lunch break or at the end of the day, it is too late to argue the point.

There also seems to be a lack of thought for the individual when planning subsequent court appearances. I remember sitting in the box whilst the judge and my barrister discussed their respective diaries, trying to find a mutually available date. Every time they turned a page was extra time that I would be staying in prison. More expense for the taxpayer and more distress for me and my family.

Consequences of an inadequate CJS

The most obvious result of a broken system is financial; the enormous waste of money that is spent on sending people to prison instead of investing in preventative measures, such as better mental health care, accommodation, and other areas where people are subject to multiple disadvantages. Are we seen as collateral damage? Could the reason that the government fails to invest in prevention be because it is a long-term solution, and they need quicker outcomes in order to satisfy public opinion? A politician’s shelf-life is getting shorter, and they need that vote!

The most important consequence of sending people to prison unnecessarily is the long-term effect it has on those on remand/convicted, and their dependents. Children are likely to suffer trauma through their enforced separation form their parent(s) and in some cases, they are left alone with a father whose abuse, whether physical, coercive or some other form, has led directly to the mother being imprisoned. The children may be taken into care, meaning that when their parent gets released, there is no family home, leading to a long, traumatic process to bring the parent and child together gain.

Many people in prison are known to have at least one mental health condition. It is increasingly unlikely that they will get help for their problems, especially if they are serving a short sentence. For example, there are several personality disorder units in prison, but in order to access one the individual must have at least two years left to serve. The rest rely on prison services such as In-reach, usually a small team responsible for several hundred prisoners. Similarly, the various courses which address the individual’s crime and associated behaviour, and which are a main part of rehabilitation, are usually only available to those with a longer-term sentence.

A consequence of having an untreated mental health issue in prison is that the individual’s behaviour is not understood by the officers, and they are more likely to end up in segregation, isolated for twenty-three hours a day with very little stimulation. This has been called abhorrent and inhumane and can only exacerbate a mental health condition; it does not bode well for the individual when re-entering the community.

Is it madness?

The UK has the largest prison population in western Europe and the third largest in the whole of Europe. It also has the highest population of prisoners serving life sentences.[ii] Yet, recidivism is high, at around 50% for adults released from custodial sentences of less than twelve months.[iii] Reoffending is lower for those receiving community sentences, yet we continue to send people to prison for short sentences.

The true definition of madness is repeating the same action, over and over, hoping for a different result.  Albert Einstein

There are many reports highlighting the ways in which the CJS is failing both victims and offenders and recommending alternatives. Some of them are given below. However, I will leave you with the story of someone I met in prison which is, I believe, a perfect example of a broken criminal justice system:

‘A’ had received 44 days in prison for non-payment of council tax. She told me that she was exempt from the payment because she was on benefits but had failed to fill in the correct form. Consequently, she was liable for the full amount, just over £2,000. She could be released at any time if her family were able to make the payment in full. ‘A’ was sixty years old, not much older than me, and was devastated at the position she had found herself in. She had never been in trouble before and was struggling to process what had happened. She suffered from migraines but was laughed at by the officers, who said she was attention-seeking.

The amount of money it cost the taxpayer to keep ‘A’ in prison for 44 days far outweighed the amount of arrears she owed. If her family couldn’t pay to get her released early, a repayment plan would be put in plan on her release and a small amount would be taken from her benefits each week. Surely, all this could have been done beforehand and the financial cost and distress caused by her sentence could have been avoided!

Perhaps common sense should direct sentencing, with more attention focused on those who commit violent crimes. Perhaps the money saved by not imprisoning people with mental health conditions, and those who commit minor crimes, could be spent in the community, on mental health and other preventative measures. And perhaps decision-makers should not focus on their own agenda, but on what is important, fairness and justice.

Reports

Prison Reform Trust: Why focus on reducing women’s imprisonment? (August 2022). Why focus on reducing women’s imprisonment? | Prison Reform Trust

Prison Reform Trust: Bromley Briefings Prison Factfile, Winter 2022 (January 2022). Bromley Briefings Prison Factfile: Winter 2022 | Prison Reform Trust

Prison reform Trust: Child Impact Assessment (November 2022). Child Impact Assessment | Prison Reform Trust

Revolving Doors: Identifying, understanding, and responding to the multiple complex needs of court service users (December 2022). Identifying, understanding, and responding to the multiple complex needs of court service users – Revolving Doors (revolving-doors.org.uk)

Revolving Doors: Understanding and improving defendant engagement (July 2022). Understanding and improving defendant engagement – Revolving Doors (revolving-doors.org.uk)

*Further articles and blogs from Sue Wheatcroft can be found at                                                   Sue Wheatcroft – Campaigner for change

**See also: Sue Wheatcroft, Pushing the Boundaries: struggling to comply in a women’s prison (January 2023). Pushing the Boundaries: struggling to comply in a women’s prison: Amazon.co.uk: Wheatcroft, Sue: 9798371883469: Books

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[i] Do You Suffer From Decision Fatigue? – The New York Times (nytimes.com)

[ii] UK prison population is biggest in western Europe | Prisons and probation | The Guardian

[iii] Proven reoffending statistics: January to March 2021 – GOV.UK (www.gov.uk)

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Contents

1. Probation, ‘borderline’ offenders and the need for boundaries
2. When Therapy Goes Bad: a client’s account of a five-year therapeutic relationship with Alison Calladine Counselling, Enniskillen & Omagh

1. Probation, ‘borderline’ offenders and the need for boundaries

This article was initially published in 2019 by the online journal, Probation Quarterly.

However, after the National Probation Service complained, the journal was re-launched without my article.

In 2020, the article was published by The Record, run by the charity, Unlock, under the name, Stacey

https://www.the-record.org.uk/unlock-people-with-convictions/probation-borderline-offenders-and-the-need-for-boundaries

One person in 20 is currently living with a personality disorder and a large proportion of these are women. Symptoms vary but in Stacey’s case she struggled with her emotions and relationships with others. She feels strongly that probation officers need more training to enable them to understand the difficulties of working with people with personality disorders.

The first meeting with my probation officer started off badly. She had read my case notes which said I was ‘high risk’ and made it clear she had reservations about supervising me. I had Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) and was known to struggle to manage my emotions. The Community Mental Health Team (CMHT) had refused to help me saying first that there was no treatment for BPD and then, after my arrest, that I was obviously in crisis and so unable to engage, so I was used to knock backs.

Nevertheless, I was a little disappointed with her attitude and the fact that she had pre-judged me. I had never had a probation officer before and didn’t know what to expect. I was 55 years old and this was my first time in prison. I was looking forward to going home to my partner and I was sure that I would not be returning to prison.

After my release I saw my probation officer twice a week. I attended all my appointments and didn’t offend further, so after a couple of months they were cut down to one a week. I wasn’t getting any help from the CMHT but it didn’t seem to matter because I could talk to my probation officer. She’d softened towards me since our initial meeting and I looked forward to seeing her each week.

We spoke about issues I was having but equally, we discussed her and her personal life.

“Enough about you, did I tell you about what I did last weekend?” she’d say.

I liked talking to her. She was funny, intelligent and interesting. She seemed to care about me. We discussed my issues with attachment, a common symptom of BPD, and she seemed to understand what a serious problem it was for me. The feelings can become so intense that some people become obsessed and even resort to stalking. I hadn’t, but I understood how easy it could be to reach that stage.

We talked about anything and everything, and we laughed, a lot. I was becoming attached to her, and she knew it. She asked if I wanted a different officer; I declined. Half way through my probation period I was told by a senior officer that I would now only need to see my officer every two weeks. I had been doing well and the concerns of supervising me, exhibited at the beginning, seemed to have lessened. This should have been good news. It wasn’t; I was devastated. I started to think of the time when I wouldn’t be able to see her, and I couldn’t bear it. I thought of the railway track and how much I wanted to end my life. I don’t know how I managed the drive home. I felt numb, yet desperate.

Once home, I couldn’t settle. I sent an email to the probation officer, complaining about never getting any help from CMHT. She phoned me, but I didn’t answer. I knew I wouldn’t be able to talk because I was crying so much. She asked the police to carry out a safe and well check, but they refused. Over the weekend, I sent more emails to my probation officer, threatening anyone she might send to my door. I wasn’t serious but I needed to do or say something extreme so that I could calm down. On the Monday I was arrested and charged with malicious communication. I pleaded guilty. The police said they had a statement from my officer to say she was upset at receiving the emails. The magistrate was sympathetic to my feelings but said he couldn’t allow anyone to send vitriolic comments to probation staff. He sentenced me to 6 weeks in prison.

While in the cell awaiting transport, my probation officer came to see me. She told me that her manager had recalled me to prison to serve the rest of my initial sentence, another 6 months. She also said she had not made a statement and was neither angry or upset at my emails. She thought the whole saga was ‘sad’. Despite the fact that I would have to serve another 6 months in prison, I was happy that she wasn’t angry with me.

After my release, despite the emails, and perhaps proving that she had not been upset the same probation officer continued to supervise me for the seven months extended probation I had been given. I was still attached to her and grateful that I would be seeing her every week. Our relationship went back to the way it was before my arrest and one day, she became emotional and apologised for what had happened. Looking back, I don’t know if she had genuinely wanted to help me or had encouraged my attachment. She game me a lot of information about herself but when I then tried to probe further, she said it was inappropriate. Either way, the thought of not seeing her was more than I could bear. I said it was OK, I didn’t blame her, and it was true. How could I blame her for being kind?

I do question however, why probation officers (and possibly police and prison officers) do not have the kind of awareness training that warns them about attachments so that they can set boundaries. Individuals with BPD can be extremely vulnerable and prone to overplay the smallest act of kindness shown to them. I was told that a forensic psychologist was available to give advice to officers at my probation office. Clearly the advice did not cover those with severe attachment issues.

Since leaving prison, I have been working to raise awareness of BPD and associated attachment issues. One in ten people with BPD end their own lives; I was very nearly part of that statistic.

In 2022, the article was also published by The View magazine:

https://theviewmag.org.uk/probation-borderline-offenders-and-the-need-for-boundaries%ef%bf%bc/

2. When Therapy Goes Bad: a client’s account of a five-year therapeutic relationship with alisoncalladinetherapy.co.uk Enniskillen & Omagh

I met Alison Calladine, private therapist, through the online Counselling Directory. My mental health had been deteriorating over the previous two years and, as was the norm at the time, there was no help whatsoever for people with BPD. In desperation, my wife and I re-mortgaged our house to pay for the weekly therapy sessions. 

When I first met Alison and knew we would be entering a therapeutic relationship, I asked her to never tell me anything personal about her or her family. I promised never to ask. That way, I said, I would not become attached to her. We stuck to that rule, and for the first few years it wasn’t a problem, but then things began to change.

I became oversensitive about some of her statements, taking them personally, ruminating over what she probably saw as innocuous remarks. I felt myself becoming needy and it was making me unhappy. On one occasion I upset her with my ‘hurtful’ (I will come back to this later) comment. She was offended, and I suddenly realised how easy it would be to lose her. I was careful not to upset her again. The relationship was too valuable to me, and I could not take the risk of it ending.

Weekly therapy sessions for five years may seem excessive to some, but it’s not actually that unusual. Whilst it is true that many with BPD dread endings and do not react well when a relationship comes to an end, it is not in itself a good reason for carrying on the somewhat expensive sessions with a private therapist. Most would eventually overcome the initial distress and move on. However, for those of us who have a severe attachment problem, it is not so clear cut.

My attachment to Alison developed after around three years. I tried to hide it from her, partly because I was embarrassed, but also because I didn’t feel comfortable enough to bring it up.  Although we had discussed my issues with attachment in detail over the years, we never addressed my feelings towards her. There were clues as to how I felt, and I assumed she knew. One day, I told her that I dreaded the day she would say the therapy had to end. She said it could be open-ended and that, barring a disaster, she would always be there. I wasn’t naïve enough (or was perhaps too cynical) to believe that, but it did make me feel better. I assumed that the issue of my attachment to her was a no-go area, and that was fine with me.

My therapeutic relationship with Alison began to break down the day I discovered (I was told by a third party) that she had moved from Chesterfield to Belfast, without telling me. I checked Alison’s website and the counselling directory and found that she had, indeed, opened up another practice and had already started working from there. I had seen her, online from her practice in Chesterfield, the previous week and had no idea what she was about to do.

Things started to make sense. Until lockdown I saw her face to face at her practice, but then like many others, she changed to online until it was safer, and then operated a hybrid system with both face-to-face and online. I carried on seeing her online. However, after a few months she stopped seeing people face to face altogether. Again, I found out from someone else. I asked her if she was giving up her practice and she replied that she hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. I didn’t know what she meant but tried not to think about it. A couple of weeks later she told me that she had been busy doing other things and that her practice was only a small part of what she did. I asked if she was giving up therapy and she assured me she wasn’t. My reaction at that time, I thought, could leave her in no doubt as to how I felt about her, but we didn’t talk about it.

The feelings of hurt and abandonment, when realising that Alison had moved away from the area, were overwhelming, and my immediate thought was suicide. I can appreciate that this reaction must be difficult to understand by those who do not suffer from this horrible condition. After all, I could still see her online, so what’s the problem? I will try to explain, briefly, how it made me feel (as with everything, no two people’s feelings and experiences are the same). To me, it’s simple; knowing where she was when at work in Chesterfield made me feel secure. Although I would come to know where she worked in Ireland, it wasn’t the same, she might as well have been on Mars. Attachment issues are developed primarily through childhood experiences of abandonment. For me, it’s vital that I know that the subject of my attachment is not too far away. Naturally, I didn’t know where she was outside working hours, and I neither wanted nor needed to.

After finding out about Alison’s move to Ireland I made a 20-minute video explaining how I felt. I talked about my attachment to her and about my thoughts of suicide. Most of the video was taken up by me trying to talk without crying. In all the time I had been seeing her, I had never cried in front of her. I suggested that she spend the first 20 minutes of our next session watching the video and I would join in afterwards. That way, I wasn’t expecting her to do anything in her personal time.

The final session

As arranged, I joined Alison after 20 minutes. I immediately asked her why she hadn’t told me of the move, and that’s when I began to see a side of Alison that I had never seen before. She was defensive and angry. She told me that it was her practice, she could do what she wanted, and it was absolutely nothing to do with me. I said that I wasn’t trying to tell her how to run her practice but that she had misjudged how I would react, given my attachment to her. 

Her reaction to this was pure, genuine, shock. She had no idea, saying ‘you said you wouldn’t get attached to me’. I thought this was a rather naïve comment but didn’t say so because I was getting the feeling that she might end the session. It suddenly dawned on me that she hadn’t watched the video, that’s why it was news to her. She said she had experienced technology problems and couldn’t watch it. I didn’t believe her but again, didn’t say so.

I can only describe Alison’s behaviour from then on as nasty and unprofessional. She lost her temper completely and showed a complete lack of empathy or compassion. I realised that this was going to be the final session and, for the first time in five years, I started to cry in front of her. I was distraught; she said ‘look at you, you’re a mess’. I started to get flashbacks to the times I spoke to mental health services, and I felt like I was going backwards. I was torn between trying to hang on to the relationship and maintaining some semblance of self-respect. I ended the session abruptly when she looked at the clock and said nastily, ‘come on, you have 2 minutes left’.

Almost every waking minute for the next week or so was spent thinking about Alison. We still had sessions booked in, so I re-sent the video and paid her another £20. Even though I had already paid her to watch it she still hadn’t seen it and I knew she had no intention of doing so unless I paid her again. I was hoping we could discuss it at the next session.

Although I was hurting, I was becoming angry and started to think of the things she had said and done over the years. Going back to paragraph five of this article, the reason I had offended Alison was because I said I didn’t like it when she yawned when listening to me. We were having a review of how therapy was going. She said she was offended by my comment. I tried to lighten it by asking if I was boring, but she twisted it so that it looked like I thought I was boring. Another time, when there had been a substantial period of silence between us (as happens in therapy) she said, ‘this is your time, you fill it’. I should have realised with these comments that she was getting fed up, but I was attached so I would never have ended it.

After a few days she sent me a message. I assumed she had seen the video because all it said was, ‘I understand’. I wrote back to say that I wanted to cancel all future sessions. At first, I was proud of myself; I had never broken off an attachment before and I knew it was the right thing to do. However, she replied immediately, acknowledging that she had cancelled, and I suddenly realised that I would never speak to her again. I panicked, she was my safety net and I couldn’t face the future without having her there. I emailed her, apologising and asking her if we could resume the sessions. She didn’t reply and I sent several of what I can only call begging emails.

Dear Alison, could we give it one more go please? I am really struggling. Could start a new contract with new boundaries? A fresh start? Please? Best wishes, Sue

She still wouldn’t reply and so I sent a message begging her to reply. I apologised for everything, even though I didn’t know what I had done wrong. It was one of the lowest points in my life. I was embarrassing and humiliating myself. Eventually, she sent a short message saying that she was standing by her decision.

Update

Alison has left her practice in Lisburn and opened up another one in Omagh.

Update

It is now two years since my therapeutic relationship with Alison came to an end. Within a month I had made two important decisions. The first was to find another therapist. Despite how I had been treated by Alison, I came to realise that she was a bad apple and that, with the right person, therapy could work. The second decision was to make a complaint to the BACP about Alison. This was supported by my new therapist, who assured me that it was not usual to stop working with a client just because they had become attached.

My complaint went a long way and then was dismissed. They said that Alison’s comment, look at you, you’re a mess, ‘could have been made in an empathetic and supportive way, or dismissively’. Trust me when I say that it was NOT said in any way except nastily. My complaint about having to pay Alison twice before she would watch the video, knowing how distressed I was, went further. The BACP initially dismissed it, saying there was no contract between us. I pointed out that by accepting payment, Alison was entering into a contract. This was upheld by an external reviewer, but the BACP went against them, dismissing it on the grounds that, although she had accepted payment, she hadn’t actually asked for it. The BACP are known to look after their own. You can see reviews of the organisation at https://uk.trustpilot.com/review/www.bacp.co.uk).

Much of the conversation during the first few months with my new therapist (I shall call her X) was focused on Alison. The loss I felt was incredible, but even worse, her nastiness towards me at the end showed me that she had no respect for me as a client or as a human being. If my self-esteem was low when I met her, it was even lower when it ended. She knew I was having suicidal thoughts. Yes, she informed my GP, but then she dumped me without anywhere else to go. What she did was dangerous. This was Alison’s final comment to me, knowing I was feeling suicidal:

‘I will leave you to assess your own situation, and make the decisions that are absolutely right for you moving forwards.’

In our first session I told X that if I thought I was becoming attached to her, I would end the therapy. I couldn’t go through that again. X was very understanding and assured me that it would be better to have the issue of attachment in the open. Any therapist worth their salt, she said, would not end the client relationship because of their attachment. Yet, this is what Alison told the BACP:

How might this insight (of the disclosure of attachment to me) impact upon our therapeutic relationship? Would I be able to work openly and honestly, knowing Susan was attached to me? Particularly with my knowledge and understanding of how difficult ‘attachments’ are for Susan? Decision. My primary concern was Susan, and it became apparent to me to continue with our therapeutic relationship may cause further distress and suffering to her.’

Clearly, Alison’s primary concern was Alison. She doesn’t know how to deal with someone who becomes attached to her, so she runs away. She has a lot of work to do on herself before treating people successfully with complex emotional needs. Many people are unaware of their attachment issues before accessing therapy and the therapist must be prepared. Otherwise, like Alison, they will cause more damage.

‘Without breaking confidence, I can say that I am not the only person to have fell foul of Alison Calladine. I know of at least two others. The sheer cruelty she has shown by ignoring people’s pleas for help is shameful. I am leaving this blog here as a warning to others.‘

See reviews of Alison Calladine: https://uk.trustpilot.com/users/6760723294b29261b079950d

The difference in me since meeting X is enormous. Feeling safe enough to bring everything to the sessions, including my attachment to her (which really didn’t take long) has turned my anxious attachment, almost, into a secure attachment. There is nothing I can’t talk about and between us, we have concluded that I may be on the Autistic spectrum; it makes sense. I won’t be pursuing a diagnosis; I am happy to know why I do what I do and think the way I do. I have a lot to thank X for already.

**If you do decide to be Alison Calladine’s client, PLEASE be careful.**

Remember…

Therapists have the power to create a sense of warmth and safety, but also to hurt, shame and re-traumatise. It’s important you find the right one.

Update

On 1 October 2025, Alison will reach retirement age and start to receive her state pension. Alison also works as a trainer and supervisor, two equally valuable areas of psychotherapy. However, it is in her role as a private counsellor that she has caused most damage and it is my hope that she will take the opportunity to cease working on a one-to-one basis with clients.

Update

Home

1. Poster against funding costs
2. Conference poster on BPD
3. Conference poster on attachment and personality disorder

1. Poster against funding cuts

2. Conference Poster

The Power of Lived Experience

Presented at the British and Irish Group for the Study of Personality Disorders (BIGSPD) Conference

3. Conference poster on attachment and personality disorder

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Article: Experts by experience: the effects of isolation during COVID-19 pandemic • WEPHREN

It has been said that self-isolation due to the threat of Coronavirus is ‘just like being in prison’. As someone who has experienced both, I feel well-placed to say that, although there are certain similarities, it is not the same!

Let’s ignore the fact that prisoners are currently experiencing their own lockdown, being confined to their cell 23 hours per day, with only one hour to shower and exercise. When people say it’s like being in prison, they most likely mean prison on a ‘normal’ day, i.e., before the advent of the Coronavirus.

One of the main issues of isolation, whether in prison or in one’s own home, is boredom. Those in prison who still have their privileges (any ‘bad’ behaviour can lead to a loss of these) will have a TV in their cell, and books from the library or sent in by friends/family. Many prison wings have a snooker table. Most prisoners have a job or education classes to keep themselves busy four and a half days a week, and there is a gym. Largely due to bad press, prisons are seen as easy, but think about the monotony of having this small set of activities, every week, month or perhaps even years, broken up only by medical appointments and the occasional visit. Then add to this the fact that staff shortages often lead to more in-cell time than is recommended or even humane!

Those on lockdown in the community may also become bored, depending on their particular circumstances. For example, most will be with their own family; those who can afford it are able to order in items to keep themselves busy; they will have no restrictions on online activities, and the hour of exercise can take place in a different area (close to home) each day – as opposed to the same prison exercise yard.

Another problem of isolation is loneliness, although this is not so straight forward. People in prison can be lonely because they have very little contact with their friends and loved ones. Those who do not make friends easily will feel this loneliness even more. For others, prison offers a community spirit that many prisoners crave. They may become institutionalised and, if they do not have a healthy support system in the community, they expect to, and do, return to prison soon after release.

Loneliness in the community, again, tends to depend largely on the individuals’ situation before the lockdown. Those who lived with others continue to do so. Although they may miss certain people, they are not totally alone (although it is possible to be lonely in a crowd if there is no personal connection). However, for those who lived alone and continue to do so, the loneliness may have worsened, especially if they previously had the occasional visit from friends, family members, support workers etc.

The issue that is most common to both people in prison and under community lockdown, is fear and anxiety. In prison, people can live in fear of other prisoners, prison officers, their potential sentence (if on remand) and their physical and mental health. For these people, the sense of being alone, without easy access to information and support, will make that fear/anxiety more extreme.

Those self-isolating in the community due to the Coronavirus will, naturally, be in fear for their own health and that of others. They may even be in fear of loss of life. However, although this fear might be stronger than that felt by prisoners (in a non-Coronavirus environment), there is more access to information and support in the community. In addition, contact with loved ones outside the home, whether by phone or social media, may act as a source of comfort.

All these issues: boredom, loneliness, fear and anxiety, are detrimental to an individual’s mental health. The vast majority of people in prison have some kind of mental health problem which is, more often than not, exacerbated by the stresses of living in prison. Although not as prevalent in the community, most individuals with mental illness whether in prison or community, have suffered from the lack of services caused by under-funding and, to some extent, by a certain amount of apathy and/or stigma among commissioners and the general public.

Regardless of whether self-isolation due to the coronavirus is ‘the same as being in prison’, if the general public think it is, then it may have a positive effect on prison welfare. To some extent, public opinion dictates government policy and it is thought by many that prisoners have a ‘cushy’ life, rather than suffering for their crimes. In law, punishment should be the separation from the rest of society, and not the conditions under which they are made to live. With this in mind, members of the public might realise just how ‘punishing’ it is to be kept away from loved ones; knowing that you cannot be there for them if they need you; the distressing effect of no physical contact with, say, children and/or grandchildren; fear of what could happen next; and the uncertainty of whether life will ever be ‘normal’ again.

The circumstances in which we find ourselves at the moment are unprecedented but appear to have brought out the best in people. Life has slowed down considerably, giving them time to re-evaluate what is important. Perhaps this can be capitalised upon when reviewing prison reform.

Sue Wheatcroft is Expert by Experience at Revolving Doors Agency in England (LINK http://www.revolving-doors.org.uk/). She is also a Research Assistant in the national Cancer Care in Prison Study (How is cancer care best provided to patients in English prisons? Assessing the disease burden in the prison population, experiences of diagnosis, treatment and support, and of receiving and providing cancer care LINK: https://www.journalslibrary.nihr.ac.uk/programmes/hsdr/165253/#/)

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Contents

1. Book: Worth Saving: disabled children during the second world war
2. Book chapter: Holiday camps, castles, and stately homes: the residential option for the evacuation of disabled children during World War II, Sue Wheatcroft
3. Book chapter: Cured by Kindness? Child Guidance Services during the Second World War, Sue Wheatcroft
4. Journal article: Children’s Experiences of War: Handicapped Children in England During The Second World War 

1. Book: Worth Saving: disabled children during the second world war (2015)

This book contains the first detailed study on the experiences of disabled children in England during the Second World War. It examines the lives of those who were evacuated into residential special schools within the reception areas and compares their experiences with others who, for various reasons, were not evacuated, who returned home early, or who spent time in hospital. Through the use of official documents, newspapers and personal testimony the book shows that for many disabled children the evacuation was a positive experience but one which depended largely on the attitudes of the authorities and of the general public, and perhaps more importantly, the attitudes and quality of the teaching and nursing staff, who were responsible for the children on a daily basis. The book reveals how the government evacuation scheme worked for certain groups of disabled children and how it failed those most vulnerable. Worth saving serves as a social commentary of a time when attitudes towards disabled people in general were changing, and demonstrates the impact that wartime conditions had on special education both during and after the war. It introduces a new area of research to a range of disciplines including Disability History, Childhood, Social Policy, Special Education, the Voluntary Sector, and the Second World War/Evacuation and is written in a style that is accessible both to academics and to the general reader.

2. Book Chapter: in ‘The Blitz and its Legacy: wartime destruction to post-war reconstruction’ (2013)

Table of Contents

1. The Blitz, its experiences, its consequences, Mark Clapson and Peter J. Larkham
2. La ville éventrée: or, how bombing turned the city inside out, Lindsey Dodd
3. Holiday camps, castles, and stately homes: the residential option for the evacuation of disabled children during World War II, Sue Wheatcroft
4. A service forged in the flames: the Blitz, wartime firefighting and the National Fire Service, Shane Ewen
5. Between destruction and reconstruction: London’s Debris Clearance and Repair Organisation 1939-1945, Robin Woolven
6. The people’s peace: the myth of wartime unity and public consent for town planning, Susanne Cowan
7. Reconstruction constraints: political and economic realities, Catherine Flinn
8. Destruction and dispersal: the Blitz and the ’break-up’ of working-class London, Mark Clapson
9. Tradition and modernity: architecture in Japan after Hiroshima, Neil Jackson
10. Reconstruction civic authority in post-war Germany, Jeffry M. Diefendorf
11. Bold planning, mixed experiences: the diverse fortunes of post-war Birmingham, David Adams and Peter J. Larkham
12. Planning the reconstruction of war-damaged Plymouth, 1941-1961: devising and defending a modernisation agenda, Stephen Essex and Mark Brayshay
13. Destruction, revival and reconstruction across Alsace and Lorraine, 1939-1960, Hugh Clout
14. Problems of blitz reconstruction in Japan: the case of Sendai, Junichi Hasegawa; Index.

3. Book Chapter: in ‘Disabled Children: Contested Caring 1850-1979’ (2015)

Table of Contents

Introduction: Disabled Children – Contested Caring, Anne Borsay, Pamela Dale;

Chapter 1: Club Feet and Charity: Children at the House of Charity, Soho, 1848–1914, Pat Starkey

Chapter 2: Insanity, Family and Community in Late-Victorian Britain, Amy Rebok Rosenthal

Chapter 3: The Mixed Economy of Welfare and the Care of Sick and Disabled Children in the South Wales Coalfield, c. 1850–1950, Steven Thompson

Chapter 4: The Question of Oralism and the Experiences of Deaf Children, 1880–1914, Mike Mantin

Chapter 5: Exploring Patient Experience In An Australian Institution For Children With Learning Disabilities, 1887–1933, Lee-Ann Monk, Corinne Manning

Chapter 6: From Representation to Experience: Disability in the British Advice Literature for Parents, 1890–1980, Anne Borsay

Chapter 7: Treating Children with Nonpulmonary Tuberculosis in Sweden: Apelviken, c. 1900–30, Staffan Förhammar, Marie C. Nelson

Chapter 8: Health Visiting and Disability Issues in England Before 1948, Pamela Dale

Chapter 9: Spanish Health Services and Polio Epidemics in the Twentieth Century: the ‘Discovery’ of a New Group of Disabled People, 1920–70, José Martínez-Pérez, María Isabel Porras, María José Báguena, Rosa Ballester

Chapter 10: Cured by Kindness? Child Guidance Services during the Second World War, Sue Wheatcroft

Chapter 11: Education, Training and Social Competence: Special Education in Glasgow Since 1945, Angela Turner

Chapter 12: Hyperactivity and American History, 1957–Present: Challenges to and Opportunities for Understanding, Matthew Smith

4. Journal Article: in Twentieth Century British History, Volume 19, Issue 4, 2008, Pages 480–501, (now Journal of Modern British History)

Children’s Experiences of War: Handicapped Children in England During The Second World War 

Abstract

The experiences of children during the Second World War have attracted considerable attention, both scholarly and popular. Not all children however, have received equal attention. Handicapped children are conspicuous by their absence from all types of literature, both on evacuation and on children’s experiences of the Second World War. This article restores these children to the story of wartime England and assesses their experiences. It examines the plans that were made for their evacuation and how they were carried out, and compares their lives, both individually and institutionally (i.e. in the various types of ‘special’ school) with those who, for various reasons, were not evacuated. It also compares their experiences, to a lesser degree, with those of their non-handicapped counterparts. The article argues that for many handicapped children it was a positive experience but one which depended on specific aspects, such as the attitudes of the authorities and of the general public, and perhaps more importantly, the attitudes and quality of the teaching and nursing staff, who were responsible for the children on a daily basis.

Thank you for your interest!

Contact me at: derbyshireborderlinepd@gmail.com