November 24: I was transferred to the West ward – mainly concerned with obsessional, compulsive and phobic cases. After a few days, I was given a programme. I remember how horrified I felt when I was told I had complete ban on hand washing. This, of course, was the total opposite to what had been instilled in me as a child and indeed as I grew up. I was, previous to going into hospital, a complete mental cripple. I used to wash my hands between 50 and 200 times a day, other parts of me 19 or so times, but never really feeling clean. I began to imagine I could make everything in the room I was in dirty, particularly food and drinks, so I began not to eat or drink. I think I had begun to dehydrate when I was admitted to hospital.

I have been obsessional for 15 years and the fears have varied widely over that time. It all began after, or rather just before the birth of my last child. I remember being at work at the BBC and feeling I was going to, in some way, hurt my sister, whom I love dearly. In order to ensure in my mind, my sister’s safety, I had to tear up the work I was doing and start again without thinking damaging thoughts. I have, throughout this illness, known intellectually that this was illogical, but logic and common sense play no part in easing one’s tormented mind. After the birth of my youngest child, I had extremely powerful thoughts that I was going in some way to harm my son. It was about this time that I had pressure put on me to have my youngest son adopted – there was never anything like that in my mind. My baby was going to stay with us, his family. I never considered adoption; he was much too precious to me. In spite of that, I could have well done without the pressure I found myself under. I would make his bottle ready and just as I was going to feed him this thought came into my stressful mind, “he will be dead when he has taken his bottle”. This so frightened me as the last thing I wanted was for my darling son to become ill in any way. When I changed his nappies, the same thought – so powerful – returned, “he will be dead when you take this off”. So then my rituals began to fill my unhappy day. If I was lucky maybe after the fifth, or so attempt at either feeding or changing my baby, it would be alright. Nearly all my money was spent on babies’ milk as I threw so much away.