Independent advocacy can change what happens next.

Michael had suffered horrific abuse by older men as a youngster. Now a man, he had recently been discharged from a mental health ward where he had been a longer-term patient. Michael had debilitating anxiety and chronic depression. He had a history of self-harm.

When I met him, Michael had been living in a small supported-living flat with staff in attendance 24 hours a day if he needed support.

Sadly, Michael was facing moving out of this accommodation where he felt safe. Social work had identified another house for Michael in the same town. It was a shared house and it was not staffed around the clock.

I went to visit Michael. I was with him for nearly an hour and, in that time, he did not look at me once and spoke barely above a whisper. I managed to understand Michael's views. He knew he had to move, but he was especially worried about the nights, as it was then that his anxiety crowded in on him and he knew his response to this was often to self-harm. He was also worried about having to get used to new staff and possibly male staff. He worried this would also heighten his anxiety.

Michael was not well enough to live unsupported and, actually, he did not want to.

There was never going to be a perfect outcome for Michael and that is why measuring advocacy's success by results is hard.

During my meeting with Michael, I established that he understood the view of social work and the care provider and accepted that he had to move. My task then became explaining Michael's needs to those responsible for his accommodation and care.

At the next meeting were Michael, myself, two people from social work, a representative from the care provider and a mental health officer. It was a lot for Michael to cope with and he was not able to speak for himself.

Michael began the meeting on a hard kitchen chair, sitting with his knees drawn up under his chin and his head down, making himself as small and as invisible as possible.

I was able to share Michael's views with the meeting. He was worried about not being able to have his own internet in a shared house. He was worried that he would not have a private toilet. He was scared of being in the house with others, especially men. He was worried about there being no staff at night and only male staff during the day. He was worried he was going to self-harm.

We got all the worries out.

Michael could visit the house and spend time there before deciding whether it was the right place for him. He could have his own internet, although he would have to pay for it, and he would have his own bathroom. A compromise might be possible during an initial settling-in period, with staff there overnight. After that, Michael would be given an on-call number if he needed urgent support. We also secured a promise from the care provider that Michael's current support workers would be redeployed for a short time to support the handover and give Michael time to get to know the other members of staff. Every effort would be made to ensure that staff on site would not be exclusively male, and Michael would be given support and encouragement to get to know some of the male members of staff.

Getting to this point took some time, but as the meeting wore on, Michael slowly began to uncurl. By the time the meeting ended, his feet were on the floor and, although he was not speaking or making eye contact, he was nodding in agreement.

I did not hear from Michael again, but I did hear that he had moved and was settling in well.

Phoebe's partner called us one day in some distress. Phoebe had just come out of hospital after a serious attempt to take her own life. She had then been discharged by mental health services after missing three appointments.

Our advocate went to visit Phoebe at home. Phoebe said that she wanted another appointment with mental health services and a medication review because the medication she was taking was not working for her. She was struggling to sleep, rarely left the house and self-harmed. On top of everything else, she suffered from debilitating migraines that she felt were dismissed by health professionals as an excuse for not engaging. Phoebe had first been diagnosed as having mental health conditions at age eight.

Our advocate described Phoebe as having really low self-esteem. She hardly looked in the advocate's direction and gave the impression of someone who had given up the fight.

Our advocate asked whether Phoebe had any neurodiversity. Phoebe replied, "No, but it was mentioned at school and I have wondered..."

Fast-forward eight months and Phoebe has been diagnosed with autism and ADHD. She is no longer taking medication for her mental health and has had a diagnosis of bipolar disorder overturned. Her advocate went with her to a neurology appointment and Phoebe now has new medication which is, thankfully, working. Our advocate listened to Phoebe talk about her hopes and dreams and together they visited the local university. Phoebe has started an undergraduate programme with support in place and hopes one day to be her own boss.

I worked with Flynn last year and the result of one of those days is the best piece of advocacy I have seen by a young person, and the best reason why more young people should have access to advocates.

Flynn was 14; he is 15 now. He has ADHD and autism. Flynn began by telling me how angry he was about people not understanding his ADHD and that he was always in trouble. He had already qualified his behaviour that day by telling me his medication had not kicked in yet. The work began when I asked Flynn why he felt he had to say that.

Between us, Flynn and I produced a newspaper article about what it was like to have ADHD in school. I asked questions and acted as scribe while Flynn double-checked and corrected everything. Flynn began by telling me that it was like having a party going on in his head much of the time, full of colour and movement, with thoughts and ideas constantly flitting in and out of his mind. He did not want to write that down, so he found a picture to include in his article instead. The following words are Flynn's own.

"I am normally medicated in school and I don't think it's fair because I shouldn't need to be to fit in. ADHD is a positive, not a negative. It is not a disability, it is an ability. I get to think faster, react faster. The disadvantage is that I can't always find the words to express my thoughts and feelings quickly enough and that can be really frustrating.

Medication changes me a lot. I don't feel as if I'm being my true self. The choices I make are my own; being rewarded can seem as if the medication is getting the achievement points, not me. People bully me because of what I do. I just want to do well. My ADHD means I'm unfiltered when I'm not medicated. If I could rewind time, I would a lot of the time and say things differently or act differently.

ADHD means I get distracted really easily, even if I'm at home watching TV. It can be something small that distracts me, something you might not even have noticed, and I have to follow it through or draw attention to it.

I find that if I'm able to doodle or fiddle about with things, I'm more able to concentrate or sit still. I wish people would be more understanding of my need to do that."

Flynn whizzed around school showing his work to every member of staff he could find. By the time he got back to the classroom, he had grown about two feet, so pleased was he with the reactions. When I mentioned it to his form tutor some time later, he admitted that although teachers learn about ADHD and other special educational needs, they had never properly listened to a young person with ADHD. Having read Flynn's piece, his approach to teaching Flynn and others would change.

More importantly, this was about Flynn. At the outset he had been feeling angry, feeling that he was not being his true self or being acknowledged for his true self. Writing that article with the help of an advocate and being listened to by an adult had a profound effect on Flynn. I am not saying he is never going to get into trouble again or feel angry or frustrated again, but it is a start.

We have approximately 1,500 children and young people in Cumbria with special educational needs and neurodiversity. Imagine how much difference it could make to young people like Flynn if they had access to an advocate to help them express their views and have them heard and heeded. How incredible would it be if Flynn's article began a movement in Cumbria that changed the way these young people are taught and understood?