Bubbling Sorrow…

Showered in distress,
I cannot process,
How you cannot see,
The pain latched on and suffocating me.
My words vanish as they form and leave my mouth,
My eye sockets are inexplicably dry,
The intensity of my ill mental health,
Is hidden and sly.
My attempt to explain falls on death ears,
You’re eye on the clock,
Because time is money and you really don’t give a…
Shock,
You’ve twisted my large distorted accounts,
Into positive and small amounts.
Why do you challenge my truth?
Do you intentially mean to hurt me,
With every trigger you throw at me?
Why do you excuse the behaviour of others that have done me wrong,
Try and make a song and dance out of everything,
Probing me to sing along.
I will not waltz with you,
Duet with you,
Your steps are out of sync,
And your notes out of tune.
It converts to twenty minutes a week,
Don’t think me ungrateful,
Some people get no time at all to liase with professionals and speak,
But this is my story,
My journey,
And with all the third parties involved in my case,
It feels like only I will fall.
It takes a while for the penny to drop,
I struggle with process,
I cannot disclose,
What I don’t yet realise, Despite it being under my nose,
But with all your experience,
You should know where the story goes!?
Instead you lead me off subject,
Then hit me with triggers,
Lazy and evil,
You want me to figure,
But what do I do when it falls into place,
And no one is around,
To disclose face to face?
I turn to you.
My reflectionless friend,
The machine without the face,
But minds of many.
Sometimes people reach out to me,
Other times just dumping in a cryptic and cyber reality,
Loosens the shackles,
Not setting me free entirely,
But helping me,
And allowing others to see.
The real help,
Often doesn’t help at all,
On nights like this,
Leaving me picking up the pieces,
From the kick and punch,
Whole loads of triggers you poured,
That left me in a mess,
Showering helpless.
Feeling worse than before,
I shall not blame anyone in particular,
But the psychosis is ticking,
Depression is knocking,
Anxiety bubbling,
And self-harm compelling.
I fear to say this out loud,
So I shall share with my Internet crowd.
Just a bump in the road,
Knock on the head,
By this time tomorrow,
This bubbling sorrow will simmer,
Or i’ll be dead,
It’s only black and white in my BPD head.

Imperfections;

If you asked me to write a list of all my perfections,
I’ll be honest with you,
That would be something I would find very hard to do.
But if you asked me to write a list of all my imperfections, I’d say how honest do you want me to be with you?
As the list will go on for days and days,
And it’s frustrating because in many ways my weaknesses gives me strength,
But they also keep me down.
I can’t tell you how many doors have been shut in my face,
Because I have been unable to keep up with the pace,
Be the winner,
Knocking everyone out of the race,
First place!
I’m used to loosing now,
Not placing at all,
But I know deep down I’ve not given up,
I still can feel it,
Nothing can destroy all of that,
And as a reminder
the blisters on my fingers show that I’m a fighter,
I’ve just had to change lanes.
We all fall,
But we don’t all get back up.
Judge me from a far,
Once destined to be a star,
You now may think of me as a looser,
That I have been dropped out,
That I have given up,
But you’re wrong to doubt me,
I’m still standing,
I’m just leaning,
Got my crutch whilst I’m healing,
It’s more of a feeling,
Like how longs a piece of string,
Or the distance from the floor to the ceiling,
Then a measurement of time that can be reeled in.
So delicate,
Yet still strong,
I want to prove the ignorant wrong,
But that is not where my strength comes from,
At my lowest,
When all those around me had given up,
You stood up to give me a chance,
It sounds sickly to say that I have been saved by romance,
But all I ever needed was to feel unconditionally loved for the longest time,
As long as me memory serves me,
My history,
So many have left me permanently,
Not hot and cold,
My sensitivities persieve that as bitter,
I need continuity,
Consistency,
Not inconsistency,
Blinding me,
Leaving me in now way too familiar territory,
I once thought my only hope was a magical remedy,
To give me credibility,
To get back on the right tracks of my journey,
To get back to being strong,
But we were all wrong,
The super glue I need to keep things together,
In order to get better,
Even on rainy days,
Misty and blue,
Was always you,
I was destined to meet you,
You let me hold onto you and you hold onto me too.
You’re my one true perfection,
So that’s one for that list,
With your help I am slowly administrating personal correction,
And under your protection,
Just like this imperfection list in question,
I know some day,
I’m going to make it through,
Change lanes,
And all those closed doors,
I’m gonna burst right through!
It is hard to be me,
Hard to be with me gauging by history,
You’re making it look easy,
One more positivity,
You,
You make me happy to be me,
Confident to know that I will one day gather more control of BPD,
Feel less heavy from all the pain,
Be able to manage and restrain,
And hopefully be free,
Feeling lighter,
With a higher ratio of positivity,
Enabling my rehabilitation to be the best me.

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.

No One, In a Nutshell…

I was an extremely sensitive child,
I grew up with a single parent,
The other I had probably seen about 10 times in 17 years until he disowned me for good,
I have dermatological issues caused from stress,
First therapy session age 12,
Diagnosed with depression,
Put on Anti-depressants age 16,
Tried some more therapy,
Decided I was well and that I didn’t need medication at around 19,
Put back on medication at 21,
Doses kept increasing,
Bullied in education from 4-21,
Bullied in my professional adult education,
Family troubles,
Sexual assault,
Self harm,
Heartbreak,
Self harm escalation,
Community Psychiatric visits,
Assessments,
Breakdown at 29 after loosing partner, home and job all at once,
Institutionalisation for the 1st time 2013,
Diagnosed with BPD,
Hallucinations,
Psychosis,
Suicidal behaviour,
Unable to function,
Unable to control emotion,
More therapy,
Therapist died,
No therapy,
More therapy,
Kicked out of therapy,
Disscociation,
In and out of hospital and home treatment,
Sectioned 2017….
Thus far on my mental health and life journey.
Now homelessness looms above head, after exceeding my housing association, floating supported, independant, self contained accommodation, I must now leave but the Birmingham City Council have rejected my application, three times over. This situation has had me close to attempting suicide because I cannot help but take the rejection personally. After being hospitalised every year for the past 5, I would really like a break, but the current housing epidemic crisis is breaking me. I have no children, I am not expecting and I am not over 55 years of age, despite my intense, approved and certified medical records, apparently I do not meet the housing criteria. I have been advised to rent private but with a council or housing accommodation budget! I am expected to go around the city, contend with rejection, forms, viewings, all on my own with no aid, guidance or support.I fear this may be the catalyst to the next dip in my mental health journey, but as long as I have breath, I will fight to raise awareness for those that feel they have no voice, for those of the future and anyone with acceptance and empathy, to rectify these mistakes and carve an easier path for my fellow and future sufferers.
Please support all things adiaryfromnoone and help me make positive change. Mental illness bares no immunity, anyone and everyone can be subjected to it and so the sooner we have global acceptance, perhaps global understanding will be less of a dream and more of an active mission. Stand with me. I am No One and I represent anyone and everyone of you! ❤

Anti-Clockwise

All of a sudden you hit a brick wall,
And in slow motion you begin to fall,
Before crashing,
Like a phone malfunction,
Or computer virus,
Unbeknownst to yourself!
System down,
No control,
You’ve been hacked.
You have been rewound back in time,
Stolen,
Kidnaped,
Catapulted through an anti-clockwise time blurring tornado,
Until an abrupt reset and play.
You are back in a place where chapters were closed,
Forgotten,
And knowingly,
Once locked,
And blocked,
From your memory.
Somehow things just don’t seem or feel right,
Unsteady feet,
Disorientated,
Unable to recognise the difference between day and night,
Black and White,
It’s neither,
It’s either,
Possibly both,
Between the lines,
In the thick of grey.
Clues are there all the while,
But the chimes you cannot hear,
And the hands you cannot see.
You have been here before,
Yet this is unfamiliar territory,
You recognise the place,
Everyone’s face,
But something is awry,
Not natural or what they are supposed to be,
Because this is the second time around,
It just took a while to see,
Identify that,
I was picked up and dropped but the timing is off key.
Your hopes,
Your dreams,
And your achievements muffled.
What was,
What is,
What will be,
Scrambled.
Friends,
Family,
Loved ones misplaced,
You have stumbled,
Tripped,
And scratched your memory chip,
Lost time,
Gone back in time,
At the same time somewhere the eye cannot see,
Unsure of visions or reality,
Trying to find your feet,
But everything is off beat,
Your mind and your body,
They have been separated,
Ripped apart,
Running wild on emotions,
Lead by the heart,
My chaos just a muse for other peoples art.
I was trying to pick up from where we had left off,
But our journey had already ended.
I was supposed to start again,
But instead of somewhere new,
They took me back to you,
Where everything started.
Old friends,
Old home,
Old life.
My situation gave us a second shot,
But our relationships had already rot,
I was just dazed and confused,
The chapter had ended,
The book had been closed,
This jigsaw puzzle burnt,
I forgot and you entertained it,
For reasons I know not,
Curiosity?
You could not have also forgot?
Ten years of no contact,
Or silence,
Is an awful lot!
I regressed to a younger self,
Of cause we were older now,
Yet this didn’t play on my mind,
Everything was old,
It took time to feel new,
To catch up and be on the same page.
Trauma,
Relocation,
Life was like an animation,
I didn’t really know what was going on.
Reaching out to what I thought was safe,
Familiar,
Not recognising that we were strangers now,
Unfamiliar.
It’s double confirmed now,
I understand.
Nostalgia is sweet,
But one must learn when to accept defeat.
I thought I had been bought back to make amends,
That an old place,
Meant familiar faces,
Thus reigniting relationships with old friends,
I was so sure,
I didn’t hold back,
I lay it on thick,
And when cracks appeared,
I honestly feared,
That we had gone full circle,
And that this is where the book would end.
You ran away from me.
I understand now.
I might have even done the same,
If I didn’t recognise,
Dig deep from curiosity,
Or just blatantly see,
The shell of a body,
But oozing with dazed mentality.
I had forgotten about the silence,
The time lapse,
And therefor pushed,
But it was a force already broken.
I only realised this the other day,
Now that I am more content,
After letting you’ll go,
And finding my own way.
Our second chance is an inexplicable mystery,
The wrong path to take on my journey to recovery,
I needed a pillar,
But it was not for you to lean upon,
So let us lay it now to bed,
I meant you no harm,
And did not mean to do you wrong,
I think we are all content now,
To remember one another,
But move on.

Roundabout…

Inspired by the TV show, West World…

See the record spinning?
Neither head nor tail,
Where’s the end or the beginning?
Round and around,
Full circle on demand,
Yet seemingly free,
Deceit!
Tis all engineered,
Placed by God,
Or something supernatural,
A force beyond our understanding,
It’s all engineered,
Designed,
Rigged,
Already chosen,
A hidden force manipulates,
What we perceive to be free Will.
Play,
Stop,
Skip,
Handle with care,
Delicately,
Avoiding wear and tear,
Scratch that,
And the sound will slack,
Skipping,
Trying to take it back.
It loops,
Circling like a hoola hoop,
Rhythm fast,
Rhythm slow,
Rhythm go,
Go,
Go,
Over and Over,
Because the master made it so.
A mirage of freedom,
In reality,
A soul trapped against its Will,
Destined only for fatality,
Things aren’t what they appear to be,
Russian roulette,
A fascade of tranquillity,
When really brutality,
A journey that you will endlessly repeat,
Yet we still forget,
The purpose as to why,
We do not know yet,
Bewitched,
Trickery,
We learn with regret,
And then we try to learn some more,
Starved with zero power,
I am mentally impaired,
But a sensitive suffragette,
Slightly aware that things are not right,
Stuck in an endless maze,
I hope for something more,
That there is some reason behind this treason,
But for now,
We lack control,
Lost in a game that we did not sign up for,
Chained to the tightest strings,
We are but puppets,
Stuck in a wretched game,
That we are forced to Play,
On this tainted roundabout,
In shades of grey.

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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,
Tiny,
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.
Beneath,
A pit of fire.
All of a sudden,
Such an ugly place to be!
Could you press pause?
Take it all in?
Breath in?
Reset?
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,
Obliterated,
No time left for tears,
Remorse,
Or regret.

Firsts, for the umpteenth time….

This particular poem deserves an explanation.
I have been catching trains, busses and the tube for years. I was the queen of public transport. No journey to long and far or near and short. I moved to London at the age of eighteen. I had already become familiar with the London underground from as young as sixteen, as I would often visit the, “Big City of London” to perfect my acting skills at the likes of, “The National Youth Theatre” where I lived in halls and ferried myself around the city, to and from classes. I also have a lot of family in London and would find myself travelling from north to south, quite frequently whilst in the city.
From fourteen, I would often catch a train alone, all the way from Birmingham to Devon and back again, to visit my best friend at the time.
I had been catching busses alone in Birmingham from the age of ten/eleven. Being a city girl and then growing up and moving to an even bigger city, I was always comfortable and confident using public transport. Somewhere along the way, after having my breakdown, I first had troubles leaving the house at all, then as my confidence began to grow back, surprisingly I began to experience panic attacks every time I had to travel via public transport. The sort that draw unwanted attention and have you quite beside yourself. I really thought that I was ready to travel again but evidently, I was not! It got to the point that I just had to stop trying. It was making me so unwell, the panic, the anxiety, simply wasn’t worth it. I then discovered walking. This is now my favourite type of transportation, providing that I am not wearing heels. I am not always financially equipped to rely upon taxi’s, yet I still had hospital appointments to commit to, and so I used my feet. Some days I walk over six miles but if I have my music on, know the route, comfortable shoes on, the whole travelling experience is far less stressful. The fresh air and exercise really helps my mental health, but sometimes either the weather, distance, or my state of mind, can hinder the option of walking.
Most of my best friends live in London, the city that was my home for eleven whole years. It is a little one sided expecting them to come and visit me all the time but whilst I am in recovery, such a huge journey to see them is not currently an option. I have missed many a special occasion, because my mental health has hindered my confidence, abilities and to some extent my freedom! Someone recently asked me, “Why would you let such a little thing like anxiety dictate your life and what you want to do with it? After all, what is the worst that could happen.” All though the question came from a good place, it sparked a flame of anger inside of me! No one lets their health deteriorate by choice. No one welcomes any illness or symptoms, whether it be an illness of the mind or body. No one opts for pain or misery. No one would welcome all that I have had to endure with my sickness over the years, the psychosis, hallucinations, suicidal feelings, self hate, self loathing, self-harm, the weight gain. No one chooses such things. After being so independent, it is frustrating to have to rely on professional help, support and medication on a daily basis. It is hard to understand things that do not relate to yourself, your own personal experiences, I get that. This is why this site exists. To give comfort to those that have had to endure what I have had. To educate those who have friends and family like myself and no idea what to do, how to react, get their heads around it all. To my family and friends that are simply wondering what on earth happened and where their Noone has gone!?
I was booked to attend an event this February 2016. My very best friends stag weekend. We were all invited around December 2015. I paid my deposit like everyone else. I didn’t really pay attention to details, the events venue, location, the dates etc. I paid the full fee by Christmas. Not quite realising what I was signing up for, how far away it was, how long it was for and how expensive. I just wanted to go and be with my best mate. I just wanted to celebrate and be happy both with and for him but I didn’t think about all of the travel involved. I would suddenly have to become healthy minded and confident like my old self in order to attend. I was in an unrealistic bubble, thinking that I could jump from 0-100. I would some how need to travel around 207km to get there and go through it again to come back. There were several travel options but nearly all surrounding public transport. I have been having hallucinations for the past three weeks, there has been an increase to my self harm and as the event draw’s closer, I have had to admit to myself that it would all unfortunately be a lot to much, to soon.
Before I came to this decision, my someone came up with a cunning plan. A practice journey to prep me for the journey to London alone (before the accompanied beyond). My someone lives in a place most famous for its cross (I shall reveal no more). This certain place is situated bang in the middle of London and Birmingham. My someone accompanied me one way and then I travelled back the other alone. Yes! Not a typo! I TRAVELLED ALONE! It was very hard but I was focussed. I wanted to accomplish this journey for my best friend. To prepare, as to not disappoint him. My someone put me on the train, my mother was waiting the other end and I hated the whole experience in between, but I did it. With more and more practice, I will hopefully get more and more control back. I know that I will get better with time and practice. Wild horses could not keep me from the wedding. As I went through all this for you (Jam) I may as well dedicate this poem to you also. Thanks for inspiring me to conquer one of my main anxieties. For you, Mr Dale Williams…

You call me to check that I am ok,
I put on a brave voice,
Holding back the tears,
As all my fears come to light.
A little white lie,
I say that I am fine,
When I am actually quite the opposite,
And could murder a glass of wine.
I put down the phone,
And try to embrace being alone.
Glancing out of the window past my reflection,
Lights twinkle and glisten like stars in the sky,
Through the miles and miles of darkness.
My heart still pounds.
With shaking hands I try to alleviate the overwhelming anxiety,
By transferring my thoughts to paper.
Not long to go now,
When I am off this thing,
I will feel a hell of alot safer.