A Diary From Noone

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

Category: Brum Votes (page 1 of 5)

Mental Health Awareness Day

There is no shame in admitting that you are suffering,
Impatient and unempathetic people may tire of hearing,
Struggling to recognise what you are feeling,
None believing because they are not seeing,
Ill mental health may appear to be invisible,
Some people need to see scans,
Broken bones and bleeding,
Or they suspiciously cross you off as deceiving,
And that is why we need to raise awareness,
There are other telling truths then seeing to believe in.
Struggling to get out of bed,
Find joy and motivation,
Psychosis consistent,
Becomes dominant,
Especially when support off others is infrequent,
Or none existant.
When your hallucinations are more common,
Than the occurance of communication off others,
Life is bleak,
You are a prisoner to darkness,
Unable to see any light,
Each day is a fright,
And there is only one way out.
Your friends loose interest.
Your family turn their backs,
The help is infrequent,
Your lover feels trapped,
It seems like you mean to push them all away,
But just like you don’t know what to do or say,
Neither do they.
Social media is false representation,
Liking a post is not interaction,
Real acknowledgment,
Or appreciation.
Choosing to not discuss life depending issues,
Does not make them disappear.
Invitations become less.
Not one text.
You are living your life,
Avoiding the mess.
Not grasping that your neglection interjects even more stress.
So instead of being strong
Firm,
Consistent,
You just slip away,
Awkwardly as you know not what to say,
Until one day it happens to you,
And you get it,
But it is all just a little to late.
Take responsibility in knowing the basics of understanding the power of the mind.
We all have mental health,
And therefor we can and most likely will,
All experience ill mental health to some degree,
So take the opportunity to understand and be prepared,
We are not all hero’s,
If you can’t,
Or don’t want to help others,
At least help yourself.
Once you understand,
Pass the baton,
The more we know,
The more that know,
The less stigma and exclusion,
More respect and inclusion,
Hopefully leading to saving lives.
We loose too many to suicide.
Rip to those that have gone,
In your memory may we be strong,
Join forces,
Learn healing,
And live on.

BPD

I feel very much on the border today,
Sanity verses Insanity,
Battling to keep up with humanity,
Desiring being a deity,
Fraustration triggering profanity,
I am just really struggling with being me,
Wholesome and free,
Struggling with the idea that I could have been anything that I wanted to be,
When fully engulfing BPD stole everything and my personality,
Placing me in a future that no one could forsee,
Taking me off track and putting me in an entirely different category.

Farewell Sweet Memories Of The Most Humble of Abodes…

I don’t remember moving into Flat 1/86,
But it was my home for more than thirty years,
If that humble maisonette had but eyes and ears,
Plus perchance a mouth to speak,
So many of cause,
But what memories would it share?
Or secrets would it keep?
From primary school,
Until I left for drama school,
Trafalgar Rd is where I grew.
Adventures in the back garden with the Tyson Twins at 4,
My first sleep over with Sabrina in Juniors from primary school.
Walking home from that same school,
For the first time on my own,
Greeted by Aunty Denise,
My cousins Billie,
Rhona and of cause my Mum,
Almost perfectly until I saw them,
Excited and proud were we all,
Until they observed me crossing the road without looking at both directions.
Bringing Alice round after stage 2,
At just around 11 years old.
The bringing home of Remy,
Excitedly coming home from Swanshurst with Lydia,
Both of us keen to get back to greet her.
Getting followed through Moseley on the way home from dance class.
Grandad in the garden,
Growing potatoes.
Choosing between Nanny and Grandad each Christmas.
Step Dad came and went.
Mum left me home alone to go to work and put food on the table.
That time I said,
“Beetlejuice” 3 times and the doorbell rang.
Steve from upstairs.
A seasaw for an only child.
A rotten wooden swing.
Stars and moons wallpaper in year 7,
Underage clubbing and sleepovers at mine.
Keziah and I practicing oceans of movement Saturday nights,
Ready for Sundays and the watchful eye of Liz Light.
My single bed.
Easter hunts every year.
Mums surprise 40th,
One of the only times the house was ever that full.
I left for London,
Mum stayed on,
A lodger came then was gone.
My old room,
Recently Cleo’s room,
Was a spare room,
Then an office for PJ to have fun.
Rosemary pampering Mum and I for the wedding.
The Baby,
The christening.
So many stories,
So many memories.
86 was the home I could always return to,
Now the Holloway’s are on a new journey,
They have hoisted up the anchor,
And sailed on to better days,
To make memories a new.
I know I left 86,
But it was my home,
Somewhere I felt I could always return to,
Bricks and water you may just be,
But I miss and love you,
And sincerely thank you,
For all of my memories,
Old,
Sad,
Bad,
Happy,
New,
You were a huge part of my life and I will never forget you.
Full circle for me,
I am currently only down the road,
Physically close to all of those memories that we built and shared,
Know that you are loved,
I’ll be seeing you.

Kween Like Lizzo…

Wish I could be a kween like Lizzo,
Looking fly,
Throwing shapes at the disco.
Instead I am lying low,
Locked up in the dark,
Not living my best life,
And letting my juices flow.
Don’t judge me because I ain’t a size zero,
Thick thighs not out,
But covered up,
Not alfresco.
Think you know me,
Well I don’t think so,
You just assume,
But I ain’t filling trollies full of junk in Tesco.
I’m sick so I’m full of medication,
Instead of healing,
I’m feeling ashamed because of society’s pushed and unrealistic misrepresentation.
My weight should not be the topic of conservation,
Put your energy into some other dedication,
Hold back and have some reservation.
If my weight is a worry for the nation,
You’ll need to get a life and take a vacation.
Word vomit,
Throwing hate,
No hesitation,
Girls got feelings,
You just assume,
With zero investigation.
Don’t judge me,
Don’t comment,
If there is no invitation,
Keep your obnoxious judgement to yourself,
It should be you in isolation.

Face The Music

Tis time to face the music,
Cha-Cha-Cha,
Kiss my teeth,
I’m not wining,
Connected,
Or in sync,
The rhythm is off beat.
I feel the heat,
Let rum punch quench my thirst,
Loosen me up just right,
Don’t want to be to weak,
And have to admit to defeat.
I don’t mean to let anyone down,
I don’t want any competition,
I smile in your direction,
You scowl at me and frown,
Turning blue,
As I approach you shyly,
With a step by step,
One,
Two Three.
It seems you despise my company,
Aware of this I was not,
But now I’ve got the message,
Loud,
Clear,
Fast,
Direct and hot.
As I leap towards you,
You two step back,
I waltz around you,
Try to entice you with a spell,
You swing away from me,
You’re jazz hands say no way and goodbye,
Leaving me alone on the dance floor,
I watch you saunter off and sore,
Me bruised and broken,
No moves left to chase you,
I’ve been through them,
Did you ever love me at all?

Broken Heart

I think the reason why I blog, write poetry, spoken word, music and reach out to people on social media is because I genuinely don’t want people to feel the pain that I do. I reach out to anyone and everyone because I feel like I have lost the contact and love from important people in my life and I try to fill that void by helping others. A heavy heart and tangled brain is a burden that often leads to isolation and fatality. A problem halved is a problem shared, because you need more than one hose to put out a fire.
I have lost friends, partners and family because I suffer from mental illness, BPD and all that sails in her. I have lost a huge part of myself, my dreams, my confidence, reputation because after being constantly bullied, denied/abandoned/banished by my biological father, excluded from family holidays and reunions and you can only pick yourself up and dust yourself off so many times. I can see a world without me in it, way more clearly than I can see a future for myself. I want my own family and their only burden would be to be smothered by my love and baffled by my pride, my husband and children would never doubt my love for them for as long as I live.
When you stop going out and attending social events/family occasions, inevitably the invites stop coming in, so do the phonecalls texts and all communication.
The only comments I receive are about my weight gain, belittling or denying my illness, I receive no love off the people that once gave me so much. Do I embarrass them? Offend them? Do they honestly think self harm and suicidal behaviour is something that I am proud of, that I take pleasure in?
When you come from a working class background and you don’t get private health care, even the professionals abandon you and let you down. I had a mini breakdown last year, because of the disgraceful way that I was treated in hospital.
A family member has said to me, “If you are going to kill yourself, just get on with it and do it!” I tried by the way. At least I know where I stand with that individual.
Life carries on. I think people loose patience with people like myself. The survivors have a strong network of support. So many others leave this world because fighting depression/anxiety/psychosis is like fighting an army and no human is strong enough to combat an entire battle alone. Not even fictional characters like Arya Stark from Game of Thrones! Even her badass needed much help.
I apologise to all whom I have hurt/disappointed/upset since my breakdown 2013. I need you to know (even if you do not understand) I am ill. Would you be able to resent someone with epilepsy? Sounds a bit silly and I am not literally comparing, but sickness is sickness.
I used to reach out alot more before than I do now, because I know that there isn’t really enough help, love and support out there for me from the people that I want and need. I got so confused, at one point I was even reaching out to people from my past, whom were left in my past for a reason, sorry! Desperation is a poorly lit torch. I now understand your side steps.
I don’t need to be ignored, excluded resented by my closest/oldest (long standing) /bestest and feel that I both have been and am being.
I feel like a spare part.
I feel so tired of fighting alone.
I feel like trouble and woes just keep falling upon my shoulders.
I cannot really help myself anymore, I try my hardest to be independent and self sufficient but my demons are often all consuming. I take my medication, accept professional help but it feels like prolonging the inevitable.
Friends come and go in life but best friends should stick around through ups and downs forever.
Partners come and go in life but should I loose my current one I really will explode.
Love is so important and we understand that it should be unconditional, but more often than not, it proves not to be.
Family are your family, blood is an undeniable bond but I don’t expect my third cousin in timbuktu to be there for me, yet I do get disappointed by my immediate family not.
Age is just a number when it comes to dealing with the emotional turmoil that I do, I still need a phone call, an I LOVE YOU, a cuddle, to be held and included. I hate confrontation and so I don’t scream & shout about all this but we all know.
I think people get tired of people like me, I just want those people to know that I do not choose to be this way. I don’t want you to have to tolerate me, feel obliged to be there for me, so I silently let you ditch me but it does upset me and doesn’t help me stay on top of recovery. I have tried to communicate and hint but you are all putting a wedge between us, just please hold on until I am secure with my special someone, I won’t survive on my one.
To my blog readers I am No One, a someone representing everyone and no one in particular, but to a few I should be a special someone, and all this someone wants is to feel loved and secure to fuel the fight and sun away those dark clouds.
So never feel a burden by messaging me guys, together we can silence those terror crys.

Whatever Makes You Happy (even if just for a moment)…

I was christened Methodist at birth but most of my foundations and early beliefs of religion came from attending and being educated in a Catholic Primary School named, St Martin De Porres. My nan still says, “Say your prayers” everytime we speak. Yet after primary school, religion wasn’t ever really part of my life. Like most western people my age, growing up, family Sunday dinner (even if just Mum, the dog and I) was a ritual, not going to Church. I was always curious about religion though, I guess it was more about understanding my surroundings rather than looking for a saviour. Birmingham, England is and always has been extremely multicultural, I wanted to understand what my peers were upto, believed in and committed to. I was just curious and therefor Religious Studies was one of my favourite subjects at secondary school. There was so much to learn about, it made me question how all of which fit together, who was I to say what was fiction and none fiction, that one religion or another made more sense or not and so I vowed that until I found the time to study every single religion, it would not be fair for me to side with any which one without all the information. To this day I have never found the time to do so and so I stand by the tittle Agnostic, which for me means… I believe in some sort of higher power but as to which exactly, I do not know. Most of the people that I know are Atheists. The truth is I don’t mind what religion anyone follows, as long as they do not force it upon others.
I consider myself to be rather spiritual. Believe me or not, I have no reason to lie, I have psychic dreams, I have had three encounters with angels and I am still figuring it all out but this year I started to attend a spiritualist church. It is my saviour. With the nature of depression, I am down more often than not, whether it manifests out of me as suicidal or manic and many complex shades in between, I find it hard to be still, calm and have a free mind, but spiritual healing enables me to explore being zen, even if just for a moment every week which I attend. Hands on healing is extremely powerful. At its best, I can only explain the transaction between the healer and I with this metaphoric description; before healing I am a battery controlled object in an inanimate state, when I am touched the very first contact is like being plugged in on super charge, my body hair pricks up and a wave of cold hits me from head to toe and then heat is transferred to the areas in which I am touched, I am physically and mentally awoken, walls are broken down and restored. Sometimes I cry, sometimes my head hurts, sometimes I feel sea sick as I tend to be gently rocked both forward and back, side to side by the comforting powers that be. There is nothing human that I can compare it to, nothing that I have personally experienced, but please take my word for it, it is wonderful.
Healing/Church/Religion/Spirituality may not be for you but I urge you to try something substance and toxic free to help clear your mind and recharge, life is hard and with no you time, to reset, self reflect and self focuss, life can be an unpleasant, continuous and seemingly pointless cycle. I do not insist but encourage you to experiment if you have not yet discovered your happy place to reboot, maybe explore with yoga, meditation, mindfulness, any activity that focuses on self attention and reflection without the aid of distraction and find your happy place. You deserve it. We all deserve to feel wholesome, even if just for a moment in our fragmented lives. You might not find your thing straight away, it took me 35 years to connect the dots but we are all fragile and all deserve to be healed.
I just think everyone deserves an occasional worry free, float in the clouds, lifted, supported, enabling energy/feeling every now and then because we all fall down sometimes and it is so nice to be helped back up.

Who The Fuck Cares, But I Don’t know You!

I know you think me rude,
But that opinion is misconstrued,
As it is you that intrudes,
I don’t respond because I don’t know you!
A Hi here,
A Hi there,
Direct,
Public,
And I’m quite sick of it,
God knows,
Who exactly are you?
Years have passed,
And my memories of you did not last.
The truth is,
I’d rather you stopped all of these messages,
As our “relationship” has ended,
Whatever platonic,
In your eyes ecstasy we may have had,
You are a figure of my past,
Time and dignity may have stopped you,
But I still receive messages of new,
And I still have no fucking clue,
Just who the hell are you?
Being terribly British,
I have not found the right words,
As to not offend,
But terminally end,
Whatever we had,
That is driving me mad,
As I don’t have a clue,
Just who the fuck are you?
So I have just not replied,
Avoiding offence, confrontation or violence,
But please,
Let this sink in,
My silence,
It’s deliberate,
A polite rejection,
Of your eager attention,
As I don’t want to upset you,
But you must acknowledge,
I just don’t know you.

Sanity Not Vanity….

Good Health is prayed for by many but those prayers are not always answered in a straight forward way and we need a little extra man made help,but that help has unpleasant side effects. Sometimes you got to take the rough with the smooth. I take medication every single day, to keep the demons at bay and maintain some kind of “normal” existence, but the pills aren’t magic, it’s not like just pop one and all will be well;it is a long and monotonous ritual that I must endure to function. Yet the weight gain makes me question the worth of my sanity over my vanity. I am an isolated recluse because I cannot bare my reflection, the pictures that others take of me, the way people look at me, perceive me, think of me. I see disgust in people’s eyes. I have to much junk in my trunk, stubborn bowels that barely function and despite water fasts, diets, juice detox, exercise… The weight won’t budge because of my sanity medication. An awful lot of people are prescribed a lifetime of meds for one health reason or another and will relate to this ongoing issue of mine and so I am experimenting, should the results show, I will undoubtedly share with you all. #sanitynotvanity is mostly an experimental diet, avoiding as much processed food as possible. It is all about DIY and prep but hopefully the time and effort put in will produce some worthy results. Thus far I can categorically say that starvation and limited calories just does not work long term, especially for pill takers, we need fuel and energy to burn, burn burn. I am on a food journey to combat my feacle impaction, ill mental health, physical ailments and self confidence. Join me via my Instagram as I begin this experiment #adiaryfromnone where I will try to find the right balance of food and exercise, the right types and kinds to make a healthy, positive difference. Currently showing taster snaps… ingredients, methods, instructions, bio’s soon to come, so get involved now xx
instagram.com/adiaryfromnoone

Still The Same

The earth would still be the same as this,
If I did not exist!
My tears overflow and fill the cup,
Whilst I’m shaking all Shook Up,
The voices shrill and proud, Ever so loud.
Administrating full control of me,
Overdrive is my anxiety.
Why are your back’s turned?
Is it the punishment that I have earned?
How so?
I honestly don’t know!
Why can you not hear me?
I need you so dearly.
I’m reaching out for your hand,
Whilst slowly sinking in quick sand.
Was this painful destiny forsworn?
Most of the time now I wish that I was never born,
And I question who would even notice!

Older posts

© 2019 A Diary From Noone

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑