Rain's story includes sharing distressing experiences relating to mental health, inpatient mental health units and misdiagnosis. Please read with care.

I’ve always had mental health issues from when I was young. I’m 22 now, but my first referral to my local CAMHS in Cardiff was when I was five years old.

In year nine, I was labelled as ‘school refusal’. Luckily, my school had a strong Additional Learning Needs (ALN) department. The ALN team really did care, and I think they are the reason why I lasted in school as long as I did.

When I was diagnosed with autism at age 15, I was discharged from CAMHS on the grounds that 'The diagnosis would open doors for me to access other support' and 'autism isn't a mental health issue' - as if someone can't be autistic and struggle with their mental health!

After getting my diagnosis, I had even less support than before. The youth emotional wellbeing services in my area wouldn't support me, saying that my autism and additional learning needs made my situation too complex.

I managed to get through my GCSES, but in sixth form it all went downhill.

When I was 17, I had several mental health crises. I ended up in A&E. They were quick to medicate me, but I never got additional support.

One day, I arrived at sixth form and was called to the head teacher’s office. They excluded me from mainstream school, as I was self-harming. I was told my needs were 'too hard to meet'. I was escorted off the premises by two members of staff.

Once I turned 18, I was put into an inpatient mental health ward for adults. The lack of support on discharge led to the same issues, making me readmitted. I had three admissions in the span of three months.

On my second admission, I was told there weren’t enough beds in the psychiatric ward. They asked me to move to another ward. They let me assume it was another mental health ward, but I didn’t find out until later that I had 'consented' to be moved to an adult drug and alcohol detox ward, without having the correct information.

The detox ward was horrific. I didn't leave my room the whole time, terrified by the sound of people screaming during detox. I was dehydrating myself and refusing to wash because I was too scared to use the communal bathrooms. I was vulnerable and distressed. I had several incidents where I was so scared I wet myself. I felt too embarrassed to ask for help from the staff, so I sat in wet clothes.

After my experience, my parents and I thought about complaining, but no change ever came of it. I doubt I’ll be the last person something like this happens to.

During my third admission, I had a meltdown, and a physical health doctor was called to my ward. They sectioned me under the Mental Health Act and sedated me. The next day, a psychiatrist called my parents and said she was removing the section as she didn't know why it had been given, and that she was discharging me. She hadn’t spoken to the other doctor. Again, I received no support.

I was never admitted again. One of the team wrote Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) on my records, even though I was never assessed. I am still trying to get that diagnosis removed. The stigma from BPD means the crisis team can treat you like you are a 'revolving door patient' and refuse to give you any emergency treatment. Although I don’t want that misdiagnosis on my records, not being readmitted was a good thing. The admissions were traumatic. It caused my family members a lot of trauma that they are still recovering from.

When I was ready, getting back into education was almost impossible. I applied to nine placements, including additional learning needs and behavioural residential placements.

The placements I applied for wouldn't even meet me. They just looked at me on paper and deemed me to be 'too much work' – too bad for mainstream colleges or not bad enough for behavioural ones. I was a missing middle. As a result, I missed out on education and specialised support for years.

My mum ended up filing many complaints. She eventually reached my local MP, and they got involved to get the social care to give me the support I was legally entitled to. Eventually, I was given a respite and education placement close to home, which has changed my life.

Returning to education gave me something to get on with and really helped me. The respite and placement helped me improve my relationship with my family and allowed me to get my A levels, which I achieved within one year. My problems were never about my intellect. I just wasn’t getting the support I needed.

I am doing really well now. I am so thankful and blessed to have support. But to get here, my parents had to battle the system and fight through rejection, sleepless nights and frustration. It shouldn't be that difficult, but unfortunately, it is. The systems for accessing support shouldn't be traumatic to navigate. It's been hard getting here, but my mental health has significantly improved now that I have the right support. I am so much more optimistic about my future. I can advocate for myself and, for the first time, have a say in my own care.

I hope that by sharing my not-so-great experiences with organisations like Autistica that make a difference to autistic people’s lives, some positive things could come about for other young autistic people.