A Diary From Noone

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

Tag: #complications

The Beast…

Today I feel the presence of the beast. I call depression the beast because it is the perfect name for it. It sprawls out over my body from head to toe, the burden of the weight makes me feel so heavy, I can’t get up out of bed. It’s teeth sink into my brain and like a virus, it filters its poison throughout my entire body. My eyelids are heavy, I cannot open them. Hypnotised and paralysed I lye down, asphyxiated and comatose, I just cannot get up. All plans unfulfilled, I lay in my bed. The law of physics expand beyond reason and gravity keeps me down. Like a pirate ship, my brain usually swings up and down, left to right, the highs and the lows. Today there is no light. No up’s. No highs. Merely darkness and only down. I want to get up. I want to do the things that I have to do. I can’t because I am bed ridden, with loss of all control, I simply cannot move. Drowsy, my state of mind drifts from conscious to unconscious repetitively. I need to eat. I need light and life but the beast holds me down!
The voices are constant. They urge me to take an overdose, to cut myself and bleed, bleed out until I die. With all of my might I plead to the beast, “Please let me go, let me get up, let me seek help?” He laughs and applies more pressure, weighs me down further.
I want to be well and able, I want to confide in someone, seek help but I now feel worthless, unworthy of any help at all. I turn my phone off and suffer in silence, give in to the beast that has devoured all hope.
Scared and so very alone, I wish with the little strength that I have left, I wish that these feelings will pass. I try to think of the good, caring, constant, stable, empathetic and loving people in my life. There are but a few, but a few all the same! The hope gets pushed down and I am left with only paranoia and doubt! Does anyone really care? All that I have is the beast, perhaps if I obey and succumb, he will be less nasty, less controlling. If I accept him, maybe his grasp will ease. I will do anything for this madness to stop. Anything. I cut and bleed and cry, then cut and bleed and cry, and then cut and bleed and cry some more. I seek calm, peace and contentment, it is all so very unobtainable until….until… until… it softens, the beast loosens his grip, my heartbeat starts to regulate, I can move! I can breath! He hasn’t gone, not completely but it’s over… for now!…

Group Therapy

It was unfortunately as bad,
If not worse then I expected,
I didn’t feel safe or accepted.
Put in a room with a bunch of rejects,
Unable to maintain their secrets.
I didn’t want to share,
I didn’t want to know,
From the moment that I got there,
I wanted to go.
The Stephen Merchant lookalike running the class,
He seemed insincere,
Clueless,
And invasive,
I didn’t warm to him,
Or anyone else.
I said no male therapist.
I said no groups.
Yet that is what I was given.
Perhaps if they had listened,
Today’s problems may not have risen.
The clammy hands,
The heart palpitations,
The tremors,
The panic,
The discomfort.
Mum seems cross,
Because I have writ it off,
But head down,
My tail between my legs,
I will go back again,
And again,
And again,
But I know that group therapy is not for me.
There is no compatibility.
My shoulders are heavy already,
My bones ache,
And my heart is broken.
I have so far to go,
I want self recovery,
I want help,
Not a lesson on others misery and history.
I appreciate that it is good to relate,
But their worries on top,
Make it very hard to concentrate.
I wont.
I can’t open up with others in the room.
I’m not there yet,
For that part of my journey,
It feels way to soon.

Thanks for reading…

Hi readers,
This is just a quick update. Thank you to those who read my blog last night. I must stress that it was written as a therapeutic outlet, rather then a cry for help. I apologise for upsetting, misleading and therefore worrying anyone.
I went to the local mental health hospital and confessed all that is currently not right. They took note and prescribed some anti anxiety meds to go long with my usual cocktail. This particular drug (Lorazepam) has really helped me out when I have had heightened symptoms before.
I went to the gym for 2.5 hours and have now taken my meds and so I hope that together they will start to release some sort of calmer effect. Either way, I will let you know.
All of the positive things in my life are simply wonderful but I cannot forget that I am suffering from several brutal and intense mental health problems. I cannot just turn my illness off. Yes, I have moments, sometimes days and weeks of, “normality” but I live in cycles and cycles of extreme highs and extreme lows. The pattern is irregular but it seems that if I have a good time, it is always followed by a long, hard and confusing time. I long for the days of nothingness. Hopefully either the meds or therapy will cure me of this in time, perhaps I will just be better at controlling them. I already know that supressing them does not work, stuff always finds a way of coming back, rising up even worse then before. Who knows!? Just know that I am trying and when I have the ability to think rationally, the last thing that I want to do is cause pain and suffering to anyone. Only you must understand, my rationalism is often clouded by continuous negative and controlling thoughts, voices, hallucinations and psychosis. I am battling against them everyday, I just choose not to talk about this to much as I don’t want to give them the power to control my life even more! I think it is all almost impossible for you to understand if you haven’t experienced it, but I thank you for trying. When I choose to disclose via the means of poetry, they are always cryptic, I can write what I am feeling in a creative manner, I don’t spell things out and it helps me make sense of it all. I really hope that my honesty offers many of you comfort in knowing that if you have similar problems, you are not alone.
xx Noone

Why not?

After a mismatched relationship with someone far to young, immature and from a family which nightmares are made of, the idea of starting again with someone new seemed an exhausting prospect. Being ill and in and out of mental health hospitals over the last three years, living in the unfamiliar city of where I grew up, but had never been my home as an adult. I was living a lonely, isolated and somewhat reclusive lifestyle. I never thought that I would meet someone that could potentially be a romantic flame! With it being winter and Christmas around the corner, an empty social calendar and nothing but wind and rain outside, like anyone would… I felt lonely and felt a raging envy towards anyone who was fortunate enough to have a spooning partner! Lol!
I recently met someone online, it didn’t take long to sift threw the odd bods and find my new Prince. I had corresponded with a few guys, filtering the few good from the many bad. After experiencing way to many, “Dick Pics” then I cared for, guys asking me out on a date and then deleting my profile, chatting to men with babies, drug problems, anger management problems, foot fetishes, sex addictions, online dating seemed so far removed from the realms of reality.
The men were more entertaining then anything else. It was like the cyber version of EastEnders and I had the lead female role. (Anyone who knows me, knows how much I love EastEnders!) Somehow, whilst trawling through the non compatibles, I found the guy that I now call my boyfriend (it seems so strange to say it, sometimes surreal, I have to pinch myself on a daily basis as my low self esteem makes the reality of exclusively dating a man, a real human being, an actual gentleman has only been a fantasy for quite sometime.) The idea of someone liking me, accepting me, finding me physically attractive, wanting to get to know me, spend time with me seems so surreal as I have become accustom to being used, mistreated, disrespected, rejected and abandoned by men. Yet somehow the genre of the orientation of my online dating experience changed from. “Soap” to “Fairy-tale”. It’s early days but I really have made a connection with someone, a really lovely someone. As undeserved of this as my demons, paranoia and insecurities may make me feel, I will not let this one go without trying.
It’s no secret that I am unwell, that I have both manic and depressive episodes, that I am susceptible to psychosis and hallucinations, that I have attempted suicide more times then I can count on my one hand over the last three years, that I have self harming and self destructive tendencies and a rather vicious dermatological illness but none of these things seems to phase him. (He sounds a little to good to be true right? I promise that he is real not just someone that I have conjured up from my head, as other people have seen him, yes, sane people!)He has taken me from face value and seems to accept all of me, every last bit, from good to bad. This has already helped me start to look at myself in a new light, a more positive light.
I am a romantic idealist but I am no fool. Relationships have come and gone in my past and they will most likely do in my future but I don’t want to fixate on that. I am trying out just living in the moment, the present. Whatever illness I may or you may not have, it does not have to exclude us from happiness and companionship. After all, love is the best drug known to man. It’s not the right way round but I have always been a bit upside down. If someone else can like you, maybe you should/could like yourself. If someone else can love you, maybe you should/could love yourself. If others don’t segregate you from such possibilities, don’t segregate yourself. An illness does not a whole person make. Don’t let it restrict you from such possibilities. Maybe, just maybe there is enough out there for all of us. Whether it be romantic, platonic, from family or other, if you open yourself up to it, you might just receive it.
Mental health problems can be soul destroying, have us riddled in pain and surrounded by sadness, forming positive relationships just might give us the incentive that we need to wake up another day.
So reader, please open yourself up to new things this new year, join me and you may also find some happiness. Depression cuts us off, we fear that all doors are shut and locked and we feel stuck but what if one opens? You don’t know until you try. Worst case scenario, your fears were true, which wont come as a surprise to you. Should it open though… who knows what is in store for you?
Keep sane, be true to yourself, be strong,

Love from Noone. xx

I know that I am difficult, but it is not what I intend to be!

I know that I am difficult, but it is not what I intend to be! You think it’s bad for you? It is even worse for me. I don’t understand it but will try to explain it…
My emotions are far to random to put on a timescale, my mood changes are frequent yet inconsistent. There doesn’t have to be a trigger, or perhaps what triggers me off at one moment, will not effect me another.
I am indeed sensitive, that plus the paranoia and psychosis, makes the simplest encounters and/or communication with others rather difficult for me. The wrong look can set me off, let alone physical contact or conversation.
Some day’s seem so much harder for me to get through then others. A good day or two usually results in a bad day or two, as if I am being punished for doing well. My whole body aches. My thoughts become overwhelming, I long for silence and rest but something bad inside of me fights and talks of knives, self harm and suicide.
I try to analyse, understand, pick apart how I am feeling, what I am feeling, why I am feeling, also what I am not feeling and why at times I am so vacant and numb.
I know that my mental health condition was noticed and flagged by professionals when I was only sixteen years of age, but I was not told or officially diagnosed until I was twenty-nine years of age. Research has lead me to believe that they witheld that information as an attempt to protect me, giving me a chance to ride it out alone, hoping that it may pass with adolescents but they were wrong to do so. You wouldn’t witheld physical information about a patient, for example, not tell someone that they have a broken leg and without offering care or medication, send them on their way. It sounds ludicrous! Why would medical professionals ever knowingly send an ill patient away without care and treatment? Research suggests that should you still have a personality disorder after your twenties, it becomes harder to heal and move on, harder to learn from and shake off the symptoms, harder to pursue a career and find ones place in society.
Some research suggests, “The course of Borderline Personality Disorder is quite variable. Borderline personality disorder is likely to remit(50% by 2yrs, and 85% by 10yrs) and once it remits, it usually does not relapse. Unfortunately after 10yrs, only about 20% have stable relationships and employment).” I have had it fifteen years. Where does that leave me?
So what the hell is this illness that I have got! This illness that along with depression and anxiety, leads to psychosis and has catapulted me to four different mental health hospitals in the past three years, lead me to self harm, take overdoses, to resent myself and my life, to loose rationalism and priorities, forget loved ones and crave darkness, silence, solitude and death?
Research offers the following diagnostic criteria, “Emotionally unstable (Borderline) personality disorder is characterised by definite tendancy to act impulsively and without consideration of the consequences; the mood is unpredictable capricious (sudden and unaccountable behaviour). There is a liability to outbursts of emotion and an incapacity to control the behavioural explosions. There is a tendancy to quarrelsome behaviour and to conflicts with others, especially when impulsive acts are thwarted (prevented) or censored. Two types may be distinguished: the impulsive type, characterised predominantly by emotional instability and lack of impulse control, and the Borderline type, characterised in addition by disturbances in self image, aims and internal preferences, by chronic feeling of emptiness, by intense and unstable interpersonal relationships, and by a tendancy to self destructive behavior, including suicide gestures and attempts.”
Well that is me to in a nut shell! I am undertaking therapy, support, medication and regularly engage with my community nurse. I have just come out of a terrible spell of self harming, although this time I am aware of the cause, loosing two family members, one of which that I loved unconditionally, was an awful lot to handle. I feel the creeps of something beginning as I type, something has been emerging since yesterday, this is why I am writing this blog, to try and channel some rationalism but more fool me to be honest. I cannot distract myself all day, everyday but perhaps at least, this will give you an insight to my peculiar behaviour and marginally explain what is going on with me.
I share to inform those who care, educate those who are intrigued, give knowledge and comfort to those who relate and to filter out those who are small minded, vain, ignorant and shallow. This site lays my cards on the table, should anyone fear, not understand, refuse to acknowledge, be put off by my honesty and conditions, leave before I get to know you and become attached. May honest blogs like this filter the bad from the good, sincere to insincere, I invite you to reject me at the first hurdle as it will hurt less then the last.

I die alone…

Why is it that I am consumed with misery and destined for misfortune? A rotten egg, the runt of the litter, I was dealt the hand of disappointment. No matter which direction that I take, all rotes are filled with poison. Given an enormous heart, full of love, crushed and never to be loved in return. I repel all potential suiters. From family to friends and lovers, deserted by all and destined for a life alone. There is no remedy. My heart was built to love, but cursed, I shall never receive it. My heart, like a machine propels, searches and targets those to love but unsuccessful, self combusts. Crushed. I feel the heavy pangs in my chest. How cruel is natures path? To allow me to love so deeply and desire almost desperately, yet nothing in return. People don’t understand. How could they, if they don’t know this pain. I wish it upon anyone. I do not wish an explanation upon them, why burden them with my woes? I was born Alone and alone I shall die. Smothered with rejection from my very first day. My love like an infection. I pledge just to love and be loved in return but receive nothing but cold isolation. As to why, I shall never know. Banished to the outskirts of society. Out of sight, out of mind. They forget me, whilst all I do is think of them. Driven to madness, I slowly fade away. Unloved, without partner nor child, just a void of unhappiness. Wither, wither, I die alone.

Just a corpse now….

And so you pushed and twisted and turned,
Turned and twisted and pushed,
The silver blade within her,
You plunged it into her heart.
Disguised under your invisible cloak,
You had full control of her.
You manipulated each move that she made,
Each thought that she had.
Under your restraint,
Fueled with your toxic venom.
Running like an engine,
No longer herself.
Just a corpse now,
The battered down woman which you vowed to love.

platonic complication

They seemed so kind and attentative,
This group of men not boys,
Charmed by each,
She did not retreat,
She let them in,
Should she have loved them all,
Would it be a sin?
They challenged her,
Saying only one of them could win,
The decision must be calm,
No arguing,
She talked of how she loved them all,
This was her downfall,
The men,
No longer patient,
They reiterate,
One or none,
They leave,
She is alone,
Back to where she started from.

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