This song was written within the confinement’s of institutionalisation. They have sectioned me but they may never section my creativity. I thank my wonderful, generous, caring, patient friends for their emotional and creative support. They came with the tools to temporarily fix my wings and accompany them whilst soaring the sky. What a view, what a feeling, what an honour. I thank the five of you for your magnificence xxxx
Have a listen…

Listen to INSTITUTIONALISED WITH VISITORS by noone adiaryfromnoone #np on #SoundCloud

If you believe in the power of creativity and expression, have an interest in memtal health, please look at my fundraising pledge and share/donate xx

This was last year’s,it was amazing and with your help, it came be again.

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

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Much love,

No One

Could You Press Pause?

When life is good,
And you feel fit,
Feisty with fire,
That ignites the power within you,
To fight with all of your might.
No mountain too high,
No river too low,
Good to go.
Like an eagle you soar the sky’s,
You see the whole world,
Through your powerful eyes,
From the very top,
All powerful and mighty,
You take it all in,
Knowledgeable and wise.
Nothing to fear,
Safe up so high,
Near where heaven lyes.
You thought out of harms way,
Yet monsters are real,
And they will find you if they want to,
Day or night,
Dark or light,
With the power of their third eye,
They can always find you,
So don’t ever let your guard down,
Or they will surprise you!
When darkness comes,
Like a magician’s cloak,
It swoops down and covers the light.
Senses lost,
With sudden change,
You are out of control.
Catapulted out of safety,
And highly at risk!
When life is bad,
You feel only sad,
It’s not something that you would choose,
Being stuck with the blues.
The monsters of the night,
Scurry and reep all good from you,
And around you.
Only bad news left,
Wishing you could walk in another man’s shoes,
Any other shoes would do!
When stood on the volcanic and jagged rocks of a cliff,
Your head as high as the slight and distant twinkling stars,
Pretty from a far,
But shooting ones will strike right through you,
Like a bullet from a gun.
A pit of fire.
All of a sudden,
Such an ugly place to be!
Could you press pause?
Take it all in?
Breath in?
Manipulate your environment to your liking?
Turn around and walk with caution,
Don’t look back,
Only forward?
Or jump without hesitation?
Cut out the frustration,
Eternal probation of some kind of higher power,
That is holding you back from revelation,
With sleep deprivation,
You fall into the Devils heart,
Only wild dogs hear you cry.
Ashes to Ashes,
As you singe to dust.
Leaving nothing but the toxic stench of death,
No time left for tears,
Or regret.

Coming home…

Coming home has been most strange. The flat was not like how I thought that I left it. Of cause having a visit from home treatment team today was indeed an eye opener! When I left my house twenty-three days ago I was out of sorts. Being hypnotized by psychosis, under pressure to conform to the wants, needs and most particular instructions off the two voices with no face (he and she) as I call them, I was obviously not at all in control of my mind, body, soul and actions. I remember certain particulars that I felt obligated to complete, to clean the flat, do all of my laundry, pack hospital bag, write goodbye letters, to prepare a deathly cocktail of alcohol and pharmaceutical drugs. I remember feeling tired and emotional, wanting to sleep but feeling forced to be up all hours completing my set tasks. I believe I did conk out for a short while, waking up in hope that the crisis had come and gone, but it had not. As if I hadn’t slept (and I hadn’t much at all), the orders continued and I completed but all on their ghastly list. Soon after, luckily home treatment arrived and for a brief period of time, just having a kind and familiar face in my home, I managed to articulate and confess as to what had happened. My fate may have turned out somewhat different if my nurse had not come exactly when she did. Once I confessed, it was game over. I don’t remember much else. I was all of a sudden in an ambulance, then in A&E. Today I got told that I could not walk, talk or keep my eyes open, apparently they had to put me in a wheel chair to evacuate my house, that explained why my new hall way rug was rolled up when I got home Saturday. How scary! I had completely forgotten, the paramedics,the ambulance journey, my time in A&E, apart from being pinched, poked and prodded a lot, yet I could not move nor talk, paralysed from the lethal concoctions that I had taken. I must have been there all day. I then got wheeled to a psychiatric decisions unit where I was instructed to lay bedding out on a reclining chair in a communal room. I did and I slept. The next day I was admitted to a female acute psychiatric ward. I have spoken about the trials and tribulations of my twenty-two day hospital stretch since then and there is nothing else or new to report.
I was discharged from hospital Saturday. My mother picked me up, we stopped off at Aldi and then she drove me home, helped me take in all of my hospital bags and shopping and then left me to it. I panicked straight away. I could not find where I had put me house keys, I ran out of my flat, pressed the code to exit my garden on the big, black, cast iron gate, shouting, “Mummy, Mummy, Mummy” as she speed off my driveway and up the road. She didn’t hear me, she didn’t see me! What was I to do? At that very moment, I felt so very vulnerable. After three weeks in an institution where you hate that everything that you do and say is watched and recorded, I panicked about being alone, about having to be independent instantaneously. I found my keys but sat down and had a huge panic attack, followed by a huge cry. I am more then aware that I am not a child, but that innocence, insecurity and reliance on being guided, lead the right way and reassured are all but the same guidelines that one needs when they are feeling vulnerable. I may be out of hospital but I am still feeling very vulnerable. The voices have dumbed down and so I am no longer in crisis but my own thoughts are louder then ever. I am trying to process what happened but I am physically and emotionally exhausted. I can’t focus on one simple task at a time and keep ending up with several half done chores. My emotions are tender, my head is sore. I miss the noise from the ward, even the fifteen minute checks, including torch lights shining through your door all through the night! It was all so tight sceduled , it made me feel safe. The chaos from other patients disallowed me to focus on what I had done, what had happened, what was going on, what was happening to me.
Now home alone, I have no choice but to acknowledge what things had lead to my latest relapse/crisis whatever you want to call it. One thing that I know for sure, is that there is an awful lot to process. I feel a burden asking for help, especially when I am not sure what it is that I need help with exactly. I do know that whether I am in hospital or not, I am going through some mega trials and tribulations and support, even just a text, is very welcome, such communication means so very much to me, it proves that people care, it gives me strength to start to believe that my existence on this earth is not worthless and that I am not undeserving of the gift of life, because that is how I mostly feel. When manic, it all seems so silly and I feel like nothing is really wrong at all. When depressed, it all seems terribly unfair and unbearable. Those moments terrify me. I fluctuate from both, over and over, all day, everyday. They say that you can only help yourself but occasional contact from people that may assume that I know that they care, would benefit me beyond belief. Radio silence from all and sundry leaves me feeling paranoid and worthless. Unfortunately I need to be told that I am cared for, important to someone, some people. With my low self confidence, I cannot take it as read. In all honesty, I never have. Perhaps if with your help and the strength that I hope to find and build, in time, I may be strong enough to ignore my psychosis, there is no guarantee that I can rid of it but perhaps one day, I can put a lid on it, feel worthy and work on the rest from there.
If people out there do not know or understand my mental heath issues and want to talk to me about it, it won’t be easy, I cannot promise to have all the answers but I would rather talk it out before you write me off and I loose you. My blog is rather informative but if you need more, reach out to because the sad reality of all this, is that it isn’t over and I have no idea when and if the hallucinations, impulse and self destructive behaviour will come again, and therefore I cannot promise that I will be as lucky, should there be a next time.
Please just take comfort in knowing that I am trying my very best to reach the top and stay on it, being low is not a good way for me to go, but it is happening more and more over the years and I feel like it is out of my control.
Be in my life, help me make positive decisions and stay on top, then and only then will I really help others, by speaking the truth about recovery, should I personally discover it.