A Diary From Noone

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

Tag: #anxiety (page 2 of 3)

No One’s Lounge: Christmas Pilot Trailer

For those of you that suffer from ill physical and/or ill mental health and just cannot get out and about.
For those of you with restrictive anxiety that holds you back from communicating with friends or family.
For those of you with crippling depression that holds you captive in your own home.
On behalf of those that are homeless and on the streets with no security or food to eat.
On behalf of the elderly whom are lonely and seemingly forgotten.
On behalf of children and young people in foster care with no loyal, loving and supportive family.
On behalf of substance abusers that cannot break their cycle of bad habits.
On behalf of the mentally ill whom are institutionalised, suicidal, lonesome and feeling insignificant.
I spare a thought of kindness for you all.
I empathise.
I recognise.
I accept and do not reject you.
This pilot is mostly about Christmas,yet I acknowledge that the above does not only exist at this festive time, in fact things for these people probably escalate at this time! I have been institutionalised at Christmas, unwell at Christmas and my eyes are open to all of it. I acknowledge you.
No One’s Lounge is a chat show for people whom feel like they miss out on going out and being entertained, and miss out on meaningful conversation. From my lounge, directly to yours, I want to discuss the vast spectrum of ill mental health whilst also enjoying live entertainment.
I need a producer, financial support and public acknowledgement. Put all three together and we will have a very good season on our hands 🤞 please watch the pilot, subscribe and look out for the full episode, December 24th 🎅❤🎅

TRIPPLE THREAT!!!

They are clicking for him,
They are clapping for her,
And I am just sitting in the audience.
I wish that I could get up on stage,
Shine in the spotlight,
Share my thoughts,
With word,
And song,
But I ain’t strong,
The stage,
Once my home,
Is now often a place that I run from.
It’s not that I have nothing to say,
I just feel past it,
And so I sit watching,
Rotting with decay.
A waste of talent some might say.
If you asked me twenty years ago,
I never thought that I would end up this way.
I have been the only cast member in a one woman show,
Performed in front of thousands you know,
But my material these days,
It’s not a show,
It’s real life,
My life,
Exposed,
I have no shame in sharing my woes,
I want people to connect with me,
To inform people about how mental illness grows,
Where it can come from,
Where it often goes,
But there is a frog in my throat,
A cats got my tongue,
My heart is beating fast,
I am dripping in sweat,
What if I belch,
Or projectile vomit when I open my mouth?
That’s just the upper part of my body,
Pretty soon,
It will be loud gas from down there,
I bet,
Not the ideal triple threat,
Singing,
Acting,
And farting,
Not dancing in the way that you would hope and expect,
Belly dancing in the bowel region is not a talent that I know of yet.
With all of this anxiety,
I cannot concentrate,
Let alone recite and perform,
But the writer in me has been born,
Self-doubt,
And my insecurities have not stopped that,
And so if you like what you read,
Please keep coming back,
And share my details with a friend,
How about that!?

13 Reasons Why…

After watching The Netflix Original, “13 Reasons Why” I decided to think about my own 13 reasons, as I often feel suicidal.The show is complex and realistic, it tells the story of a teenage girl who struggles to fit in and find herself, make positive and strong relationships with friends or lovers. She is both exposed to and experiences horrific trauma, she is bullied and misunderstood. She struggles with communicating her problems and slowly gives up after far to many unpleasant turn of events. I think that the message is, don’t give up, there is always help and a positive way out but in my personal situation, even with help intense medical treatment, currently fighting everyday from hospital, if not, then from home! The struggle remains, regardless of age or location. Here are my 13 reasons, +4… 1)Isolation (no one unprofessional person I can be 100% honest with 24/7) 2) rejection (biological father, modeling agency as child, step father, boyfriends, employees, friends and family) 3) abandonment (father, step father, boyfriends) 4) unsuccessful (dreams/career/unacomplished for my age) 5) unlucky (in general, in love, in health) 6) undesirable (baggage) 7) alopecia (embarrassing and confusing to lovers) 8) self harm (scars) 9) weight (plus size without intense maintenance that I sometimes cannot keep up with ill health) 10) mental health (mood swings, odd behaviour is demanding and requires intense patience) 11) impulsive (unpredictable and unsafe = dependant on help of any kind) 12) temperamental (good times and bad times cannot be forcast) 13) victimised (bullied) 14) Trauma (sexually assulted) 15) Pain (I feel sick to my stomach with the hatred I feel towards myself and cannot control, manage or contend with being me) 16) Voices (the theory) 17)Dissociation (the unknown, random, unexplained danger that I find myself in)
Reasons to live, 1) ideally a parent should never have to bury their own child. 2) I do not want to mess up my little sisters life! 3) I want to help other people with their mental health struggles and that….. that is currently it. I am honestly so tired of fighting this forever proving, endless and tiresome game. I know that this confession is a shame and may seem attention seeking or defeatist but it is my truth. I currently see no light, no rainbow, no gold, no silver lining. I have sort for help but after two months and counting, I am by No means cured. I think that I need to learn to live with this but the thought of this forever is not appealing in the slightest.

J

When you sobbed,
I cried for you,
Not realising that I was crying for me to!
Only sixty,
Not old at all,
In our day and age,
But your brain is at such an older stage,
You barely engage,
You get so forgetful,
You are so vulnerable,
Rather more like a child then a lady,
Unable to process,
You come across a little crazy,
But you are so sweet really,
Fraustrating at times,
But impossible to dislike.
Your husband honours your wedding vows,
He is dedicated unconditionally to you,
There to support you,
Committed like clock work,
It must be hard for him,
Having to witness,
As everyday you let a little more go,
He truly loves you so,
He visits and calls you every single day,
I only hope that I will find someone to love me that way.
My family don’t know the half of it,
Where to start,
What to do,
What to say,
I often wonder if they would miss me if I went permanently away?
Always polite,
Never wanting to offend,
Whilst I still can,
I just pretend,
Pretend that I am ok!
Year after year,
As things get worse,
And I have to endure this heartless curse,
A pattern seems to emerge,
I’m well,
Then unwell,
And well again,
But never truly the same,
Qualities get lost,
And I cannot regain,
Whilst circling around this gruelling chain,
Each fall leaves it’s mark,
Dulling my spark,
Regardless of where crisis springs from,
Rational,
Or frequently more so,
Irrational,
The consequences are real,
Not at all fun.
This rollercoaster of peaks and troughs,
Eats away at my heart,
My soul,
My brain,
And I can no longer maintain,
A fruitful life with out pain.
Are you the lady that I am to become?
Except the situation will be worse,
Because I do not have that special someone?
If so,
My future,
Be it long or short,
Is bleak,
I forget all together when I peak,
Hurtling through spells of mania,
But this fear eats away at me when I am weak.
This journey,
Alone,
Without a rock to lean upon,
Is a very sad one,
A life and future of only this,
Is a life not worth living,
That I want to run away from,
And escape!

29 days to raise £900

After a complete and utter break down the other night, the poem attached came to me whilst calming down. Live from a psychiatric ward, please click here link and here how I felt at that exact moment.
Please also take note that I am running out of crowdfunding time and although very greatful for all that has been donated so far, I would like to push for more.
I am trying to do a good thing. Please help me make it happen!?

Listen to Lay Dormant… by noone adiaryfromnoone #np on #SoundCloud

justgiving/JadeLaurie-Hart
Facebook/Twitter/YouTube/SoundCloud – adiaryfromnoone

Much love,

No One

Performing…

I thought that spoken word was so easy,
That being myself was the best kind of performing,
Because you write your own script,
Direct,
Produce,
Visualise,
Create,
Everything yourself,
But I fear that I may have been mistaken.
Performing is performing,
And performing I love you,
But my psychosis is now sabotaging my gift of creativity.
When you don’t have a character to hide behind,
Sharing your own art is a very difficult thing to do.
With my acting background,
With my head in the game,
Crowds don’t phase me,
I can deliver,
I like it,
I feel at home on the stage,
But I did not take my honesty into consideration,
My ill health into consideration.
I get so much pleasure from helping others,
Expressing myself creatively,
Reaching out to those curious, similar or exactly like me,
But have absoluteluy no idea how to help myself.
I wish my performance was a play,
But these days I showcase my own life,
And now it is over for a while,
I really feel the pain and strife.
The audience receive a short summary of what my life is like,
When it finishes,
For them it ends,
But I cannot escape my own life!
I didn’t realise at the time,
But I became an actor to take advantage of executing different emotions,
Emotions that as human beings we all need to express and feel,
Being emotionally unstable,
This was a playground for me,
Acting allowed me to play,
Experiment and release,
To feel emotions that we so desperately need to experience to progress,
And grow naturally.
Now speaking spoken word,
With Words That Are Nothing But True,
I have all of these emotions and I simply don’t know what to do.
So for now,
I decided to start with writing to you!
I have no regrets,
Only envy,
Hope helps troubled minds,
But I have been medically informed that my illness will always be a part of me,
With no escape,
A condemned eternity of misery.
A huge cloud now hangs above my destiny,
I am trying to process and accept the character that this makes me,
But this is not the way that I wanted things to be,
And I mustn’t fool myself that what lye’s ahead will be easy.

DEMAND CHANGE…

Scroll to the bottom if you would prefer to listen, otherwise… happy reading. Please share this one, it means an awful lot to me. Thanks for visiting, come back soon!? XX

DEMAND CHANGE!

If the last four years are anything to go by,
Excuse me as I start to cry,
Because my psychologist told me that I will have this monster of an illness for the entirety of my life!
What!?
I see her every three months or so,
Go in,
Come out,
Who knows what the fuck we talk about!?
I am just another number,
Case load,
For her to box and shelf,
To prove to the bankers’ that I have been seen and “helped”,
But she hasn’t,
Helped me, that is!
Help ignites hope,
But she blew out my candle when she condemned me to an eternity of helpless misery.
I shout my woes,
Confess my sins,
Tell them all of the out’s and in’s,
But they neither see nor hear me,
Not one of all of the professionals that supposedly support me,
They just give me more pills to sooth me,
No,
Silence me!
People in my very small social and immediate family network ask that I at least communicate with them before battling with self-destruction,
But how can I purposefully burden my friends and family?
Firstly, If I disclose all the intricate details of my intense suffering,
I fear that they may section me,
And believe me,
I have been institutionalised enough times already!
The full truth,
The whole truth,
Nothing but the truth,
Will make people not want to speak or listen to me.
And so I write,
And I write,
And I write.
I may not be as articulate and witty as the professional’s,
Lack in vocabulary somewhat,
Be short of the spark that creates recognition and popularity,
A magnitude of followers,
The camera skills to go viral,
The voice of an angel,
Musicality like Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart,
But this is my art!
Speaking from the heart,
Everything that I say is true.
It may be a matter of preaching to the converted for now,
I see you nodding your head,
Taking in every word that I have said,
Thank you,
Give me an Amen!?
The budget cuts in the mental health system,
The up rise in mental health patients,
The increase in the number of people with mental health problems on the streets,
Scrapping for food to eat,
As if they don’t already have enough problems.
The black hole between help in the community and hospital admittance,
The loss of mental health control,
Less beds,
More med’s,
The increase in suicide!
I struggle to cope every single day!
I see and hear things that other people can’t,
Lucky them!
I don’t eat,
I don’t sleep,
I don’t shower,
Brush my hair or teeth,
Or I eat too much,
Sleep too much,
OCD kicks in and you could seriously eat off my dustbin!
I cry,
I panic,
I hallucinate,
I self-harm,
I hate myself,
And contemplate suicide most days!
If you have to ask why?
You haven’t been listening!
If you find my revelations a bit intense,
Then I am truly sorry,
But this is the reality,
My reality,
My life story forever more,
As my never ending diagnosis of;
BPD,
Depression,
Anxiety,
And Psychosis has been bestowed upon me for eternity!
I long for the times when I could distinguish the difference between bad days and good.
I once had the capability to actually believe in myself.
I have always had ill mental health,
First therapy session at twelve,
On pills since sixteen,
But there was still enough space in my life to dream,
Even moments when I conquered,
But I am no longer on this planet for me,
But for the people who love me!
Even though they may not fully know or understand me,
I can forgive them for that,
I do not fully know or understand myself,
But for some reason,
Some amazing people do actually love me!
And so I am very confused by this but recognise their love,
And therefor I am extremely thankful and lucky.
I fear and feel for those that have no one,
Those that receive no love at all and feel weak because of this.
Think about how isolating it is for those that have absolutely no one to share their experiences with.
There are people that have no one to aid their struggles with physical and psychological pain.
It is my pleasure and self-administrated duty to share with and represent my fellow Borderline’s,
Depressive’s,
The Anxious,
My neighbours The Schizophrenic’s,
The Bi-Polar’s,
And all of the above,
All of you,
The list is as long as my battered and bruised arms.
It takes personal experience to understand sometimes,
But you do not need a degree to practice listening or conjure empathy.
You do not need to be mentally ill yourself to acknowledge how integral mental health is in our society.
As a result of increased and continuous budget cuts in a financially deprived yet desperate area of NHS Health,
People are dying every single day.
This is a fact that deeply saddens me to say,
But this is an increasing problem that will not just calm down and go away.
We must unite and demand change.
Demand change.
DEMAND CHANGE!
With change we can help people very much in need.
With change we can potentially cut down the suicide.
With change tomorrow may not seem as grey!

Botched Up Bodies…

I have always hated my breasts. They have always been large in size but the bigger the natural breast, the less kind gravity can be. That is a fact. I have always blamed my mother for encouraging me to sleep without a bra on as a teenager, whilst developing. Truth be told, I doubt that notion made to much difference, but it is easier to blame your mum then an anonymous God or fate!
I have always said, that if I win the lottery or come into money, I will be straight down the plastic surgeon’s. Boob uplift, liposuction, laser cellulite remover, the list goes on, the whole shebang! People say just exercise more or eat less. People say an awful lot! The reality is, I can honestly say that all of my ailments are not self inflicted. I do exercise. I eat rather well. Looking back at my pictures in my twenties, I looked fabulous, but even then I was body conscious. People have always picked on me for my weight, even as a child. Those voices are never silenced and will haunt me to the day I die. My issues are not just physical but mental because of being traumatised by criticism about my shape, size, appearance, looks, being dumped by partners or nagged by family members. I never got to truly and confidently enjoy my size when it was rather good. I used to have a natural four pack! I doubt that is ever coming back. One can wish, but actually, I would rather four kids.
Age has of cause played it’s part, like it does upon everyone else, but also depression has ignited comfort eating in the past, I used to sleep eat, sleep walk to the cupboards, snack and wake up feeling sick from poorly digested food and crumbs in my bed. Thank goodness that stopped, but now with BPD, depression, anxiety, psychosis, I have to take an awful lot of medication to steady my mood and weight gain is a side effect.
It is no secret that I self harm. I believe this makes me a little less screamish then most, but watching the inspiring weight dropper Josie Gibson under the knife on celebrities botched up bodies, the surgery really made me feel sick. Josie was asleep through all of it and woke up looking great but I am now in two minds. Not like I can afford surgery anyway but it has definitely opened my eyes to the seriousness of cosmetic surgery. Surgery is surgery and always life threatening.
I suppose that if I was fortunate enough to truly make a decision, under the knife or not under the knife, I am single and thirty-two with suicidal tendencies, if I am going to die, I wouldn’t mind dying whilst trying to look hot. I would wake up hot or wake up not. Chances are, it would be the first, then maybe I could find a man to love me, in this cruel, judgemental and shallow world that we live in. Most importantly, after thirty-two years of failing, maybe, just maybe, I could learn to love myself. I have a lot of love for everyone else but have never loved myself. If nothing else, it would be great to embrace that feeling.

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!?

The Vulnerable Seem To Suffer The Most

There is nothing worse then the feeling of being unheard, dismissed and passed around in an unpleasant circle of pain, despair and wasted time! I don’t want to complain, I am acknowledged in the mental health system, I do receive continuous care which I am aware is luckier then most! I am not ungrateful, I appreciate the care in which I receive but when I fall, I fall hard and unfortunately feel that either I am not helped at all or helped to late. There are numbers to call, people to speak to but rarely instantly and when in crisis, time is of the essence! I do not talk of suicide lightly but the rates are high and I believe that a lack of instant intervention is the reason why. Like myself, there are many vulnerable people out there. It is understandable when friends and family cannot understand the realms of mental health and more importantly crisis but not acceptable when the professionals paid to help, simply don’t. I have lost faith in the mental health system, so much so that I am growing tired of reaching out and baring my soul because it is emotionally exhausting and seems to get me nowhere. I could be doused in petrol and rolling around in flames and still get overlooked.
I have tried to tell the help about my symptoms that have escalated, the reason why I believe they have and absolutely nothing has been done to pacify, comfort or help me. They have nothing new to offer, nothing helpful, hopeful or of any use. I don’t expect a miracle or an easy ride. I am willing to graft, I am fighting every single day, every hour and every minute anyway! I seek help but remain disappointed.
Depression is horrific and intense, having an overwhelming feeling of self loathing and insignificance, when smiles are fake, tears are heavy and your energy is drained.
Anxiety has you physically shaking, gasping for air and an overwhelming feeling of suffocation, which instigates panic.
Borderline, Personality Disorder has you dragged up and down an unstoppable and unstable scale of uncertainty and instability. There are moments of mania and moments of horrendous lows. There are moments of numbness and moments of piercing pain. I, having no control over how I feel and why I feel it, endure a spiral of rational,irrational, emotional and unemotional outbursts. I have an inability to regulate emotions, but I try my hardest to monitor and therefor recognise symptoms before the storm, or at least throughout. I continuously end up in a constant battle with myself!. I do everything I can to stay well. I Take my medication. I engage with appointed help. I document my triggers in order to find patterns that may be telling in the future. I continuously try to distract myself from over analysing or from unwanted psychosis but the reality is, I am vulnerable. I am emotionally unstable and a normal day to others is no longer a normal day for me. My days mostly consist of emotional turmoil. A bump in the road to others may be catastrophic to me. Having a simple idea may escalate to intense euphoria and unrealistic idealisation. An awful lot of emotions run through my veins and I surf from rational to irrational in an erratic synchronisation with a pendulum. I tiptoe on the thin line of sanity and insanity. I loath my forever changing reflection and look upon professionals for protection whilst I endure an infinity of pain.
I think back fondly of the days when I was able to get by and cry with regret that those days are over. Until you have endured the excruciating and life shattering whirlwind of psychosis, you will never fully understand it. You can read about it, listen to the testimonies of those that have suffered but still have no idea of the strength, pain and power of the combination of my woes unless you to, endure it! I would wish it upon no one.
I apologise to all that I confuse and hurt by my honest declarations’ but do so to make other sufferers feel some comfort in knowing that they are not alone, and to give the professionals some substance to work with. Although I have given this website to around forty plus professionals and I would be surprised if even 2% have bothered to log in!
You can try to convince me that the voices are not real, tell me to tell them to #### off but that would only result in me looking more insane and add fuel to the fire. It seems acceptable to hurt ones self and redeemed safe if I am not a physical threat or violent towards others. This notion is bizarre to me and adds to the fuel of me feeling insignificant.
You don’t need to fear me but I fear myself. I am scared at how easily I am effected and disrupted by the behaviour of others. I am scared that when irrational I may one day succeed in taking my own life and leave my loved ones perhaps ahead of time, especially my sister. I am scared that I will never be free of this pain, suffering and these vile symptoms. I am scared that I will never achieve anything again. I am scared that I will never be understood and loved romantically by a man when I have such unpredictable baggage. I am scared that I will never become a mother. I am scared that I may succeed in suicide, because it seems like the only true route to escape this burden. A lifetime of this!? I am scared that I do not have the strength to endure it. I am scared that my purpose is to die in honour of others that need saving. I long for peace, calm and silence. I wish to be helped. Why do the vulnerable ones always seem to suffer the most!?
I am reckless at times, because I want to feel alive, forget all of this pain, be careless and free, to enjoy some time without negativity, to trick my mind into believing that I am happy. I think this is why alot of borderlines have drug and alcohol addictions. For the most part, creativity is my vice but I would probably try anything right now, just to feel warm and nice! Not rotten, cold inside and full of dread, with an enormous rodent running wild and spreading poison in my head.
Perhaps delusional but I have a feeling that one day my words will be discovered, used for good purpose, be quoted and recognised but I will be here no longer. What will be will be. People have said that they find comfort in my honesty, beauty and sadness in my poetry and often learn from my blogs. This illness will live on way beyond my existence, regardless to when I die. I can only hope it will be received and dealt with more sensitively in years to come. I think of the young ones who are suffering, hormones on top of all the rest. I write to help and educate everyone but always have the youngers at the forefront of my mind. Please help me raise awareness by sharing any of my work with people that you feel may benefit from reading what is essentially an enormous autobiographical dissertation on the realms of living with severe mental health problems and the trials and tribulations of survival, with creative and poetic undertones’, documented from 2013 for the unforeseeable future. A literacy version of reality TV, for those that prefer to read. This site and all within it comes from the truth and nothing but the truth of, No One!

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