A Diary From Noone

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

Tag: #LIVINGWITHBPD

Rainbow

All stories come from stories,
Fables and tales of old,
Get twisted,
Torn,
Pulled apart,
And made a new.
The art is to refurbish and tell like never before,
Leaving hints of familiarity,
Subtle enough for you to question the clarity,
Yet get you hooked,
And entertain you once more.
Words pour out of my mouth like water,
Vivid,
Fast and pure,
Never preplanned,
Or to mine ears been heard before,
I must have been a muted poets daughter,
Kept back by prejudice,
In a life before,
Now reincarnated I am still kept back with not much more to gain,
So much time has passed,
Yet judgement and exclusion remains the same,
My gender now not to blame,
But this time my brain,
Some lable me as insane,
Making publishing my work a gamble,
Excusing the discrimination with health and safety,
Keeps me at the back of the line,
Instead of the front where I deserve to be.
I want to open my mind,
Open and let you all in creatively,
I’ll keep you entertained with many a story,
Some real,
Some fantasy,
Some as dark as reality can be.
Yet people don’t want to take a gamble on me,
Be it the colour of my skin,
My battle scars out and showing,
My mental health diagnosis,
My fragility,
Potential crisis.
If I was a celebrity,
Publishing offers would fly to me,
Which is something I cannot fathom!?
I am no one imparticular,
Which makes me all the more spectacular,
Because I represent you all,
Anyone and everyone,
The masses.
I could be you,
Or the girl next door,
You’re daughter,
Best friend,
Or cousin.
Instead of allowing me to rise and connect with you,
You step over me,
You do not see me,
You will not listen to me,
Despite with all of my experience,
For the curious,
Those in the dark that need a guiding light,
Someone other to hold their hand,
To understand,
I am the connect to help you through.
The one without private health care like you,
The one who has to wait like you,
The one they medicate like you.
There is no personal Doctor on call,
Nowhere to just check in,
Thats the world of your celebrity.
I will not discriminate fleeting moments of ill mental health that others have indulged,
So why discriminate me.
My illness is longstanding,
I’ve been institutionalised,
Penalised,
Accosted,
Persecuted,
Snubbed,
Ignored,
Ganged up on,
Disrespected.
I have been to Hell,
I could tell you about that,
Demons and Psychosis,
Hallucinations,
Manifestations,
Paradise,
Euphoria.
I’ve been down to the darkest place.
I’ve been up to the highest and brightest.
I’ve spoken to the people that movie characters are made from.
My eyes and ears have explored every crack and crevice of the mind and beyond.
I could tell you a tale or two,
Some you may have heard before,
Some familiar,
Some brand new,
But I refuse to speak to buttoned up ears,
Lost in translation,
Focused on fame and vaneers.
I worry I may loose,
Or confuse what has been
As my memory looses stability,
Due to medication,
And emotional sensitivity,
And so I share snippets on here,
Both to remind and for those that support me.
One day I shall tell my full story,
Awake my imagination from slumber,
Mix everything together,
And share a rainbow of novels to suit everybody,
When the world wakes up and sees my potential as an endearing literature somebody,
Fueling books,
Theatre,
Television,
And film.
My stories,
Honest and brave,
Timeless.

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!

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