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 3)

Black Girls Don’t Cry… Returns

As a self appointed mental health advocate, I have been fortunate enough to be approached by the BBC a few times throughout my crazy journey of ill mental health and my latest opportunity was being able to share parts of my story via the BBC Radio4 and Made In Manchester documentary, “Black Girls Don’t Cry”. Due to resounding success, it is available once more. It airs January 3rd at 8pm BBC Radio4 but is also currently available on iPlayer. Simply Google, “Black Girls Don’t Cry” or https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b0b9zfws and you shall be able to hear two other brave black ladies as well as myself, share our stories of ill mental health. Catch it while you can. It really gives great food for thought.

Happy Holiday’s To One & All 🎄🎹🎈🎄🎅

Ice daggers nest amidst the crisp air.
Layers are not spared for the Pigs in blankets.
Jingle upon jingle,
The Jenga walls rise,
Consistent with roaring repetition.
The greenery glistens with Diamonds and Jewels,
Competing with the twinkling stars,
The brightest at the peak,
A sea of Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh below.
The blaze of Cherrie’s and Marmalade crackle.
The spit and roasting sizzles,
Clinks and clanks activate and churn the spinning windmill.
Imitation’s of Ho Ho Ho escape unheard,
Shoulders rub together,
The old and the young,
The festive season has begun!
Merry Christmas to one and all.

Destined For Catastrophy

They say that in life,
When we are born,
We are all on a certain path,
But what they don’t tell you,
Is that one decision,
One simple decision,
Can change and alter that path,
In some cases for eternity,
In others,
You may get lost for a little while,
As each path leads to another,
And another,
But the lucky ones,
They finally get back on track,
And fulfil their born destiny,
The luckier ones hurtle in their born direction,
From birth until their end,
But some of us get so lost,
And bewildered in the darkness,
That we loose a sense of self,
And without knowing ones self,
How can one know their own destiny?
I feel that I fall into the later category,
I feel like I am drifting out into the endless and bottomless sea,
And before I took sail,
I had lost every part of me,
Not misplaced,
But lost forever more,
And so I go on,
And on,
And on,
Drifting,
And drifting,
Not sure of my future.
I fear that I may have forsworn my born destiny,
But somehow know that it will be a lonely and bitter end for me,
Whoever, “Me” may be!
I dream and fantasise that one day,
Someone will come along and save me,
But as time passes,
Second’s,
Minute’s,
Hour’s,
Day’s,
Week’s,
Month’s,
Year’s,
That notion seems more and more improbable,
I just cling to it for comfort.
I don’t know what I was born to be,
What life could or should have had in store for me,
But I feel in my bones what will be,
What looms above me,
And it is not pleasant,
Welcomed,
Nor warranted.
It is disaster and catastrophe!

When The Curtains Close…

When the curtain’s close,
And the applause dies down,
I enter another dimension,
Spinning dizzy on an irrational Merry Go Round.
My mask scrubbed off,
Costume neatly hung,
Lines stored for tomorrow,
I cannot pretend anymore,
And I am left in sorrow.
My hands shake,
Arms ache,
As I try to embrace myself,
Rocking back and forth,
Backwards and forth.
Most people get nervous when the stage lights go up,
Yet for me,
It is when the lights go down.
My heart sinks.
There is no platform to pretend anymore.
I loose my voice,
My heart heavy and sore.
Weak in the knee’s,
Unsteady feet,
The magic fades,
Leaving me weak.
The star has gone,
I am No One,
Someone,
Anyone,
Everyone,
No sense of self,
Or belonging,
Alone,
Just me!
Whoever that may be!?

Left Sore…

Stranded and alone,
I felt scared,
All of my positivity disappeared.
Let down,
I could not fathom your mood,
Left as easy bate,
I was lucky to have not been pursued,
As I sat crying,
No idea where I was,
In the dark,
At an unfriendly time.
The truth is,
I am not well,
Even the slightest trigger,
Could send me to hell!
The incident plays and replays in my head,
Just a little hiccup for you,
Drove me to despair,
Nearly ending up dead.
And yet still no apology,
How very disappointing,
And unfair,
Did you even care?
Now safe,
Home at last,
Yet the memory of the incident,
I cannot put down to the past!
It will stay in my head forever more,
Emotionally bruised,
And very sore.

Extra Time…

That poor child with a hole in his heart,
He has a pocket full of dreams.
Adventurous,
Brave,
Smart,
And cheeky,
Eager for his life to start!
“A Doctor” is what he said that he wanted to be,
And so he could help fellow sick people like he!
Then there is me,
Nearly thirty three,
Thirty years his senior,
A wasted soul,
Unhappy and ungreatful in life.
We both have hole’s iin our Herat’s,
Only his,
Literal,
And mine,
Metaphorical,
Still each scenario could lead to an unpleasant fatality.
He,
To him this whole notion is inconceivable,
Unbelievable,
Unfathomable.
I was once like him,
Determined to heal,
Beg,
Borrow,
And steal,
In order to be alive and feel!
I would give him my life if I could,
He would make the most of it,
I know he weould!
Life to me,
Does not feel as it should,
Full of heartache,
Misery,
Despair,
And negativity,
Running on misery,
No obvious destiny,
Broken and desperately misunderstood.
I want him to have my life,
Some extra time.
To you this may sound strange,
To me it is a fair exchange.
An opportunity to be the best that he can be.
The wires in my head are positioned incorrectly,
If I could give him my time,
My life,
Perhaps that would finally mean peace for me.
I would be his Guardian Angel,
With him day by day,
Guide him from wrong to right.
I would monitor his sleep,
Converse with the Sand Man,
Sucking out the venom that nightmares make,
And replace them with love,
Confidence,
Comfort,
And passion,
Whilst gazing upon him amongst the star light sky at night.

Struggles With Voices Are The Worst!

When you are down, low and insecure, there is nothing worse then the added pressure of hearing voices. For the reader’s that have never experienced psychosis, imagine wanting complete quiet but you have two people shouting into each ear at the same time, plus the radio on full volume, the TV on full volume and the piercing sound of all electricity, the lights, heating, just a volcano of noise that you cannot control or ignore. Plus everything being said is critical, condescending and demanding of you. That is the best way that I can describe my experience of hearing voices. It is agonising and can lead to catastrophic consequences’. I may be happy one second and then like a smack in the face, it can all come on and all at once. I can have the cleanest diet, be alcohol free, exercise daily, distract myself with music, poetry, TV, whatever. I could go on a heavy night out, drink all night, socialise and dance. I can be stuck in bed for days. I keep trying to diagnose my own triggers and think that is where I am going wrong. Such symptoms are simply part of my illness, what I do does not determine a relapse, it is just the nature of my illness. I take my medication, communicate with support but neither or are cures, they are just put in place to decrease such symptoms, not eradicate them. This is an acceptable theory upon reflection but not helpful at all when in the moment. I just want to switch off for a bit.

Buzzzzzzzzzzz!
Buzzzzzzzzzzz!
Swish!
Swash!
Swish!
Can you hear it?
Buzzzzzzzzzzz!
Buzzzzzzzzzzz!
Swish!
Swash!
Swish!
Can you hear it?
I can!
I am sick of it!
It’s not as it may seem,
The noise I mean.
It is like tuning into a radio station,
Before they went digital!
Nonsensical sound waves,
They then commit,
Translate,
And strongly exist…
Listen to me!
Listen to me!
Oi,
Jade,
Listen!
Seriously,
Can you not hear it?
I can!
It goes on and on,
And on and on,
Intense,
Overpowering,
Tightening,
Instructing and demanding.
I hear it!
I cannot turn it down.
Where’s the mute button?
The stop button.
They say they will,
If I succumb.
You are insignificant!
You are unworthy!
You are vermin!
You have the stench of death about you!
People would be better off without you!
You are no one special.
Pigeons are like Rats with wings,
You are like a rat with two legs.
A pest!
Get over yourself,
Everyone around you,
Strangers that meet you,
Loved ones too,
They don’t want you,
You know it’s true.
Darkness and gloom seeps in and out of your nostrils,
What you inhale is pure,
But release is deadly!
So I unwillingly spread darkness?
Make it stop?
No one wants you around,
It doesn’t have to be said!
Just read between the lines,
You are an unwanted inbred.
No one wants a burden,
You’d be better off dead!
You can try to keep up.
You can try and beat it,
Defeat it,
But is there any point?
Weighing people down,
Bringing people down,
Drowning and gagged,
Sinking deeper and deeper,
Let go and release them,
Everyone and thing you touch ends up in disaster,
Your darkness spreads like fire!
So let them all go,
Or they’ll all burn with you!

Halloween 👻 🎃 🦇

If my wits weren’t about me,
Perhaps I would not have seen,
This dark and morbid being.
As it blended into the night,
Still and invisible,
Almost to all.
But the glare from its eyes were as red as blood,
World pools of monochromatic rouge,
Like laser’s,
Appearing to just hover,
Harmless to a passer by,
But not to I,
For I was the target,
But unbeknownst to it,
I had noticed.
Each breath it took confirmed a presence,
Like a Childs scream,
High pitched inhales and exhales,
Sounding deadlier and deadlier upon repetition.
A force greater then I,
Out of my control,
Had me compelled,
Like a magnet,
I was pulled closer and closer.
This was no trick or treat,
But a Halloween feast,
For this bewildered beast,
Devilish creature,
Full of evil,
Lacking a soul,
Threw me into its black hole,
It took me all at once,
And all in one.
Halloween,
Taken for good,
Never to be seen again.
Alone and with no one,
No witnesses,
Captured and gone!

World Mental Health Day…

Does world mental health day mean we celebrate diversity and make it known that it is something to be embraced and accepted? Is it to acknowledge that mental health is a legitimate condition? Is it to remember all the people that we have lost to suicide? Is it to prevent hate crime caused by misunderstanding. Is it about breaking the stigma and taboo’s that go along with mental health. Is it to educate the ignorant? Is it to humble those that suffer in silence?
I sincerely hope that it is about all of the above. You know that I (No One) dedicate my life to raising awareness for mental health. I have depression. I have anxiety. I have BPD with symptoms of psychosis. I am not ashamed. All that I write is real. Take from it what you will and please share with anyone who you think may benefit from my blogs and poetry.

Peace And Love,

No One xx

when do unfortunate ailments turn into baggage?

They say any fool can fall in love. Hands down, I am therefore a fool. Believing in monogamy. The rule “it takes two to tango” makes a lot of sense to me.
I have always wanted to get married and have children, yet somehow I have turned out to be a modern day version of Mr Charles Dickens, Miss Havisham. I have no fortune to speak of, I have not even been proposed to, let alone jilted by a lover, but like her, I have longed for the love of a man, only to have my heart broken.
William Congrave once said, “Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned. Nor Hell a fury like a woman scorned. ”
I am not vindictive about others who may achieve successful and life lasting love but I am of cause a little jealous.
We don’t always get what we want in life. I usually get what I don’t want and tangled up in multiple webs and triangles and such is my life.
Some readers may be thinking, getting out there, is the expression, “bite the bullet by its head”?
If I had less ailments, less of a disastrous dating history of lovers, maybe I would put more of a search on. A broken heart is hard to mend. A beaten down and squashed heart is a first class ticket to spinster land and the point of no return. I am holding on but not feeling all that strong.
People always say, your time will come! I do an half hope so because I am running out of hope and steam! (Simultaneous laugh and cry out loud).
This takes me to the questions;
1. Would you date someone with mental health issues?
2. Would you date someone with an embarrassing dermatological illness?
3. Would you date someone full figured?
4. Would you date someone damaged?
5. Would you date someone insecure?
6. Would you date someone emotionally unstable?
5. Would you date someone if you knew they were unfit to work?
6. Would you date anyone with all of the above?
Sounds scary!? Sounds extreme!? You can choose whether you can live with that or not, I can’t, non of it is self inflicted. So I will just have to explore loving myself. Am I Austen’s Emma, or am I Bronte’s Jane Ayer?
I am none other then the modern day loveless woman on the shelf.

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