A Diary From Noone

She spoke but no one heard, every scream seemed a whisper, and so she took pen to paper...

Category: 2020

Leaving the wards behind…

Rose

In the same garden full of weeds and sharp thorns,
Grew a secret and single delicate Rose,
That only the lady locked in the Tower Knew of and could see.
She believed it to be hers and loved it unconditionally,
Twas the only precious thing in her life,
The rose filled her with glee.
Everyday people came to view the lady,
Some even tried to set the lady free,
But failed as that was not her destiny.
A handsome prince came and said, “Why won’t you come with me!?”
“I may leave when I choose,
You have assumed that I need rescuing!
No matter how handsome,
No matter how rich,
No matter how kind,
I’m here for my own good,
And shall only leave when I know that I should.
It is not about shackles,
Chains,
Locks,
Keys,
To some degree I may leave when I please.
When?
This cannot be measured by your accounts of time,
I need no clock,
No watch,
No sun,
No moon,
But it will sadly all be over soon,
Alas you should go and please don’t return,
My heart has no room to yearn!”
I see the petals fall,
And when the last one Falls upon the thorns,
This chapter ends and another shall begin,
When the last petal Falls then and only then may I leave.

Simulation

For the unempathetic,
The unsympathetic,
That once thought ill mental health was pafetic,
Welcome to my world.
I say this sincerely,
As it is quite clear to me,
That your mentality is crossing borders unknown.
The lockdown zone,
Not being able to leave the house,
Estranged from loved ones (perhaps not reciprocated),
Friends (so-called),
Family (just blood),
That you truly miss but cannot reach.
Is something you never get used to,
Yet I am so very familiar with,
And feel warranted to preach,
A feeling and sensation that I would never knowingly share,
But I know it has its claws on the masses of you out there.
The paranoia,
The fear,
The new,
The way to close to home,
Is on all of our doorsteps.
We are warranted to threat,
About lack of finances and debt,
Whether we have had the virus yet,
The high possibility of death.
Wanting to go out,
Being mentally restricted,
Is just as gruelling as when restrictions are leagully inflicted.
Feeling restrained,
Contained,
Maintained.
When and how will it end?
The mania,
Hysteria,
May manifest,
As we flap our wings,
Without flight,
Wrapped up,
In a blanket of maybe and might.
Nothing is certain,
Nothing is for sure,
Don’t practice self blame,
If you are feeling insecure.
Just follow suit,
And hope.
When this all passes,
And we have said our goodbyes,
To this delicate yet tremendous stamp in history,
Please remember the simulation,
Of mental dismay and fraustration,
And spare kind thoughts to the mentally vulnerable always in this situation.

Covid-19 versus Mental Health

Speaking to fellow people that suffer from ill mental health, the overwhelming feeling of lock down and isolation, which is such an alien concept for most people, not at all sound of mind to contend with, is a very much unwanted first for many but actually the norm for many people whom suffer from ill mental health. Social anxiety/depression/psychosis often isolates mentally vulnerable, especially single people. These symptoms often lead to self isolation, triggering loneliness and paranoia, boredom, weight gain, weakening of the immune system. Loneliness can kill. This is an unfortunate pandemic but also a lesson in the usual day to day life of many of our mentally ill and vulnerable. What a horrid but memorable way of wearing shoes on the other foot. Hopefully when the world pulls through to the other side, remember this feeling and contact the vulnerable loved ones in your life.
My paranoia has been high for a while. What really upset me is that I have tried to safeguard myself by being in the company of my partner, but it is a fair distance from my abode, trying to get enough medication to see me through a few weeks, to avoid public transportation and leaving the house has not been permitted. Yet in the past when I have travelled abroad, there was no problem. Maybe they thought I was being over dramatic/sensitive; paranoid, and I wish they were right but it seems my paranoia is warrented, only as anticipated, I am in no state to trek and beg once more. I appreciate them holding the reigns on controlled drugs but their inability to stick to a decision, giving me false hope and then wasting my time has made me more ill than taking a weeks worth of meds in one go would have done.
Everyone is paranoid, fearful of the unknown but I’ve been wearing masks since last year as my OCD has esculated and remained untreated. I am frightened to go out and use public transport and no calming words or percentages will ease the panic running through me. What happens if I cannot force myself out, if I run out of meds?
Ultimately I know that this virus is like nothing we have ever personally been through. Please telephone/text/video chat and check in on your loved ones. At times like these, it is easy to forget that you are loved and I bet you are. If you are going stir crazy and feel you have no one to talk to… Please just message me.
#bekind #togetherwearestrong #dontbeselfish #declareyourlove

Boomerang

Happy or sad,
Pleasant or unpleasant,
Triumphant or troubled,
We cannot forget the past,
We cannot escape the past,
It can be suppressed but only for so long,
Because without it there would be no present,
And without a present there will be no future.
Secrets buried will resurface,
Torture shelved will fall back onto your lap,
Outcast trauma will always boomerang back,
There honestly is no escape,
We can trick ourselves for so long,
You cannot cheat your way out,
Only acknowledgement,
Acceptance,
Understanding will set us free.
A tainted past does not have to determine one’s future,
But acknowledgment needs to be part of the process,
In order to Journey on forward. Do not tell me that I am stuck in the past as if I want to be,
As if I revel in misery,
Do not shun me for struggling,
When all you do is sweep things under the carpet,
Remember selectively.
I am no volunteer.
Some people’s paths have shackles,
Have nails that staple you to the wall,
Burry you underground,
Suck you up like a tornado,
And are all considerably profound.
This doesn’t make stepping forward very easy,
The torture one endures early in life,
Will inevitably stay with you until your very last day,
It’s your foundation.
Yet it’s how you manage,
Come to terms with,
Accept,
That will help you,
Lead you on your merry way.
We may have been cast upon a gloomy path,
But determination can enable escape,
It may not be easy,
But hopefully always an option. Nothing worth having ain’t worth fighting for.
I want to come to terms with my troubled past.
I am determined.
I will resolve and then I will be set free,
But I am under no misconception that this journey will be easy.
Don’t think less of me because I broke down,
Because I wanted to end my life.
My decision bared no hindrance upon you,
I am sorry to have affected you,
Those times I only saw blue.
Please just don’t mistake my vulnerability for sabotage,
My troubles as deceitful,
My issues as seeking of attention.
It’s ok if you don’t understand,
But removing yourself from me,
Just a fraction,
Or entirely,
Is a real pitty,
If its about tough love,
Don’t be so damn silly,
I blame myself already,
Your disappointment,
Attitude now non existant,
Or dismissive,
Only makes me more self destructive.
I need suuport,
And I am not to proud to ask,
But if you have disappeared,
I will not force your hand,
There is no poker face here,
It’s sad,
Hard to hear,
Hard to watch,
I must endure it,
You can ignore it,
But never mistake in thinking any of this has been my choice.

Step Ladder Outa Hell…

I don’t believe that you are unwell,
You just keep putting yourself through some kind of hell,
Professing to be crazy,
When you are actually just lazy.
For absolutely no reason,
You’ve committed a self sabotage treason,
Putting your self in hell,
So you can just constantly dwell,
Taking it upon yourself you are just giving up,
Handed yourself over like an inanimat object,
An empty cup,
That they just continuously pour medication into,
To stop you from being you,
Because you claim to be ill.
I wish that you wasn’t so ignorant and so you could take away your pride,
And see the divide now between us,
You could have helped me,
You still can,
But you refuse to believe that I need it,
You refuse to accept what I have been diagnosed with,
And seem to think it all inside my head,
Although professionals themselves have said,
I do have have borderline personality disorder,
And it means my life is not in the same order,
I can no longer dream the same dreams,
At least for now,
Or accomplish the same things,
But I am still human!
More than anything I’m able to love and wish for love in return,
But my pain,
My suffering,
Has caused you pain,
I know,
And you suffering,
For this I am sorry,
That is why you are on auto pilot,
Which warrants your denial,
But you are no longer by my side,
I try to take it in my stride,
But it isn’t easy,
As I don’t want to make you feel any other way than love towards me,
But at the very least respect,
And belief.
I do not just make things up,
I am not just giving up,
Attention is not what I seek,
I want after healing.
I am unwell,
I don’t want to be,
If you could come to terms with this as well,
That will be my step ladder out of this hell!!!

You Can Turn Me Off…

When is it that you stopped loving me?
Did I push you to far?
When did you decide to not accept my illness?
Blame me from your distress?
I look to you for comfort,
Dream of being in your arms,
Being held,
Being hugged,
Being kissed,
Being loved.
You’re no longer in my life as much,
That tells me that you no longer care,
That I am stuck all alone out there.
If I were younger,
Would you be more involved?
Do you believe that age affects what is in my control?
Tough love is not for me.
Your silence is killing me.
Always know that I love you,
But I cannot be the strong self sufficient person that you want me to.
Seperating yourself works for you,
But let’s not pretend that you are doing all that you can do.
It is disappointing,
You are turning a blind eye,
Racing forward as a separate unit,
And have left me behind.
I don’t want you to be in pain,
For me to be a strain,
I think you have had people in your ear,
That separation has given you that uplifting shift in gear,
But if you leave me for too long,
I cannot promise that I will always be here,
This is not a threat,
But a declaration of my constant fear,
You can turn me off,
But the only way for me to,
Is to completely dissappear.

Bubbling Sorrow…

Showered in distress,
I cannot process,
How you cannot see,
The pain latched on and suffocating me.
My words vanish as they form and leave my mouth,
My eye sockets are inexplicably dry,
The intensity of my ill mental health,
Is hidden and sly.
My attempt to explain falls on death ears,
You’re eye on the clock,
Because time is money and you really don’t give a…
Shock,
You’ve twisted my large distorted accounts,
Into positive and small amounts.
Why do you challenge my truth?
Do you intentially mean to hurt me,
With every trigger you throw at me?
Why do you excuse the behaviour of others that have done me wrong,
Try and make a song and dance out of everything,
Probing me to sing along.
I will not waltz with you,
Duet with you,
Your steps are out of sync,
And your notes out of tune.
It converts to twenty minutes a week,
Don’t think me ungrateful,
Some people get no time at all to liase with professionals and speak,
But this is my story,
My journey,
And with all the third parties involved in my case,
It feels like only I will fall.
It takes a while for the penny to drop,
I struggle with process,
I cannot disclose,
What I don’t yet realise, Despite it being under my nose,
But with all your experience,
You should know where the story goes!?
Instead you lead me off subject,
Then hit me with triggers,
Lazy and evil,
You want me to figure,
But what do I do when it falls into place,
And no one is around,
To disclose face to face?
I turn to you.
My reflectionless friend,
The machine without the face,
But minds of many.
Sometimes people reach out to me,
Other times just dumping in a cryptic and cyber reality,
Loosens the shackles,
Not setting me free entirely,
But helping me,
And allowing others to see.
The real help,
Often doesn’t help at all,
On nights like this,
Leaving me picking up the pieces,
From the kick and punch,
Whole loads of triggers you poured,
That left me in a mess,
Showering helpless.
Feeling worse than before,
I shall not blame anyone in particular,
But the psychosis is ticking,
Depression is knocking,
Anxiety bubbling,
And self-harm compelling.
I fear to say this out loud,
So I shall share with my Internet crowd.
Just a bump in the road,
Knock on the head,
By this time tomorrow,
This bubbling sorrow will simmer,
Or i’ll be dead,
It’s only black and white in my BPD head.

Love

Flying on cloud nine,
Please take it not for granted,
To love and be loved.

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