Docter Docter, What’s The Vaccine For Venlafaxine?

Doctor Doctor,
Excuse me if you find me too revealing,
But I’ve got to express the way that I’m feeling,
My patience has reached the highest of ceiling,
And yet I’m still here attempting at acknowledging and revealing,
Despite how much my (so-called) personal mental health practitioners have got me reeling!
I should have known that they don’t care about me,
Are clueless as to my lack of well being,
Cause they ain’t calling,
And they ain’t visiting,
When and if they do,
It’s a quick and short questionnaire,
With a how do you do,
Paper work being the only essential and correct thing they get through.
If you feel suicidal,
Call up the Doctor.
If you feel to anxious,
Call Up the Doctor.
If you feel psychotic,
Call up the Doctor.
Now you know how it goes,
Just call up the Doctor!
Except for if you self harm,
Then go to A and E,
As the mental health squad are far too busy and precious to get all bloody,
After all I have BPD,
It won’t be an emergency,
Just another self distortion,
Miles away from self abortion,
Just another dramatic Borderline seeking attention,
They’ve given up on BPD prevention,
Or so it seems,
From all of my experience within institutionalisation.
If you don’t feel good,
Just call up the Doctor!
Well I’ve been ringing the Doctor over and over again.
Somebody explain to me if they will pick up and when?
I don’t understand all of this awful Jazz music I am forced to hear.
I’m not feeling well,
Oh dear.
In fact I’m already planning the fastest ticket out of here.
I just need a sound piece of mind,
Somone or somebodies to cool me down,
Make me feel more refined,
I don’t know how humans are supposed to be designed,
But there is a little trip in me,
I got a few problems with my sanity,
And all of this is kept under reasonable confidentiality,
The thing with mental illness is that it’s something you cannot see,
So people don’t think I’m ill when they look at me,
But certain people,
The professionals,
They know most,
And should understand,
And still I can’t get their attention,
And I’ve been patient,
Not even expecting anything on demand,
Two months and not a word,
An email and they’ve just gone!
It’s now you pushing my buttons,
Where is everybody?
Psychologist?
Mental Health Nurse,
Support,
Doctor?
My partner is not a psychological professional,
Yet someone (and in my notes you boast as if taking credit) I do get alot of my support from,
He is part of but has not painted anyone out of the picture,
You’ve not even seen him,
But of cause the idea makes you less concerned,
Just imagine if he ceased to exist,
Or if he put me at more risk,
There’s been no meeting or introduction,
His not trained or signed up for this,
But since you got wind of him,
It is only you who constantly lets me down,
To know a solid partner exists,
I think you have happily wrote me off as fully cared for on your insulting lists,
His not a vaccine,
I need Venlafaxine,
What have you done but gotten me dependant and addicted,
To a drug I now need,
But you are keeping it restricted.
No one foresaw the pandemic,
Least of all I,
Yet somehow you are punishing me for it,
And slipping away far too quick.
I’m cold turkey off drugs now,
And I believe that you wanted me to be sick,
Perhaps a threat to pipe down a bit,
But No One speaks,
And exposes the bullshit,
No matter the concequence of it.
2020,
Ive been abandoned twice by my mental health professionals,
Now I’m on the way to thrice.
I’ve been forced to try and soothe my own ill mental health,
I am not a mental health paramedic,
I’m not a pharmacist,
Nor psychiatrist,
But it seems I have to heal my self!
I like to volunteer as a self appointed mental health advocate,
To shake up advertising that gets people hyped,
Like one session of CBT and you’ll be alright,
I pray for those that might,
But know to well the rivers that run deeper.
I try to step in for when the professionals don’t get it right,
And people are left,
Only seeing the end in sight.
I didn’t textbook study pain,
But my natural empathy sees me right.
It seems it has to get very dark before any restoration of light.
Is it I that will have to perform some kind of Martyr Sacrifice,
When will our stories truely be looked upon,
People will identify,
People will sympathise,
People will recognise,
And perhaps the system will apologise,
But it will take people like me to be dead and gone,
For the system to get a kick up the ass,
Reveal true stats,
And work at the level they so loudly pride upon,
Yet quietly loosing so many,
Truely some of the best have now gone,
I’m hanging on in there,
Trying to make people aware,
I shall reveal the thorns,
They only shout about the roses,
I have no huge platform,
But stand with me,
I am fighting for myself,
Got a lot of work to do,
But it is easier to fight for you,
When fighting for all of us,
I would like some help,
When fighting for myself,
The light turns out,
I do need help,
Exhausted all common sense,
Ran out of ideas,
Dried up and burnt out.

Suicide Bets…

The manic times are the best,
You feel entitled to success,
Full of ideas,
Full of energy,
Laughter,
Fun,
Untouchable,
Witty,
Sometimes even pretty.
Then boom,
I hear a clap of thunder,
I see the lightning is very close,
It’s heading towards me,
Before I have time to even think,
I’m catapulted to the other border of the spectrum,
Down,
Suicidal depression.
I am weak,
All I do is sleep,
Exhausted from silencing the plan,
My thoughts are intrusive,
Actions inconclusive,
All alone,
Fearful of pushing people away,
Tight lipped,
I’m fighting,
But it could go either way.

On My Own…

Sat home alone,
I cannot focus,
On anything but the bloody ticking tock,
Of my painfully loud clock.
Relentlessly kept anchored in the present,
I fester,
As I am a prisoner,
A slave captured by time,
Unable to hence forth,
Or recline,
Just stuck,
And endlessly out of luck.
What are the chances?
What did I do?
I would repent if I knew.
All I want is to love,
And be loved,
Like everyone else around me,
They make it look so easy,
And I welcome it with open arms,
But there is no love for me.
I can no longer depend on hope,
Delude myself that we are all deserved,
Of love,
And may receive it.
I have been looking,
Loudly,
Openly,
Scouting,
Foraging,
Wishing,
And wanting,
But just keep on,
Getting rejected,
Left and abandoned,
Falling,
Longing,
And failing,
I am worn out,
And I am torn.
How else can I take this but personally,
Now thirty-three,
Believe me,
I have sailed into the great unknown,
Searching for a lover to call mine own,
But it seems that love is not part of my destiny,
It turns out that there isn’t enough love for everybody,
And two shall not always become one,
We don’t all get that special someone,
To hold up and lean upon.
I must sink,
And sink alone,
But for all my writing in ink,
That shall follow me as I drown,
Like a dog to a bone,
My only companion,
As in the same pattern,
I shall leave this life alone,
Just as I came into it,
On my own.

Dormant Volcano

I am the blackfish in the bowl of goldfish,
I am the monkey in a cage,
The actor on the stage,
All eyes are on me.
When I move,
The spotlight does not follow,
I am yesterday’s news,
Not tomorrow’s star,
I am in the game,
But my position is lame,
Because actually I am rather tame,
And that does not entertain.
I have no microphone,
No subtitles,
Bad lighting,
One must study closely,
To see what is happening.
Still,
Not swimming in circles,
Sitting,
Not frantically swinging around,
Modest,
The stage I stand upon,
No colour,
No sparkle,
No fireworks,
No flames,
But I wish you could peak into my brain,
Witness the insane,
Peak into my stomach,
See the flames of anxiety,
A storm is brewing,
This dormant volcano is bubbling,
And I have reached out,
Tried warning,
But on tired and deaf ears,
My revelations and fears fall,
Too articulate,
Too educated,
Too accomplished,
And fine tuned,
My passive attempts to communicate,
Are dismissed by you all,
All the while,
I slowly crumble and fall.

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.

Hot Coals…

Prematurely,
Petrified,
Terrified,
I walked across hot coals,
Bare foot,
Vulnerable,
Exposed,
Scolding,
I did it for you!
Would you have done it for me too!?
Current evidence seems to prove not.
Because I am out of sight,
It seems that you have forgot,
It is the only reason that I can think of,
To justify just how rotten,
Your lack ofor support has been.
One should always consider complications,
Things aren’t always as they seem,
But in this case,
Whilst I suffer,
You seem to have wiped your hands clean!

keeping up appearances…

Are distractions’ a type of remedy,
Or are they just another mask,
A cover up of my inner enemy,
A form of deceit and so people won’t ask,
The dreaded,
“How are you!?”
I admit there is some relief in distraction,
But it is not a subtraction,
I still feel so very wrong,
And like I am keeping up appearances in order to belong.

CIRCLES…

You will find a link to my YouTube channel at the bottom of this post, please check out my new vlog entitled, “Circles”.
Beforehand, please see two poems that I wrote in relation to two pop songs (Cyndi Lauper’s True Colours and Rhianna’s Stay) that inspired me for a spoken word performance. You will also find a live recording of that performance on my YouTube page, under, “NO ONE & KK!”

True Colours…

I live in a multi-coloured world.
A diverse universe,
A parody of the Planet we Human’s call earth.
I see beauty in your sadness,
And sadness in your smiles.
Of cause there is tragedy but mostly comedy,
No poverty,
No hierarchy,
No monastery,
No political parties,
No war,
No prejudice,
No racism,
No hate crime!
Saying this out loud, of cause it is pure fantasy,
Perhaps this is why I am certified crazy!?
But I see your true colours,
And I know in which world I would rather be!

Stay…

Even in my world there is heartache,
Yes, even in my multi-coloured world!
Like glass it shatters into pain wrenching particles,
Leaving an “Ora” of only black!
Your heart stops beating,
A heart attack.
The pain projected upon you seeps through your skin,
Into your blood,
And swims through your veins.
Asphyxiated by abandonment,
Turned ice cold,
Blue upon rejection.
Life’s meaning fades,
Imprisoned by love lost.
There is only one remedy,
That he will come back to me,
Come back to me and stay!
His return determines my fate.
Oh please come back,
Come back and stay!?

CIRCLES…

I am so bored of this inprisonment..

I go from 100 to 0 within less then 24hrs every single day. I often still manage to smile but it only lasts a short while. When in good spirits with good people, it is often as if my sadness does not exist. When alone, I busy myself with this site and other things such like. Then there are dark times when I cannot bring myself to be around other people because emotions are contagious and I don’t want to bring other people down. Sometimes I reach out to people but people are busy with their own problems, happiness and general lives. What did I do so wrong to deserve this hex, this curse that aches my heart and burns my soul!? I feel deflated, defeated and cannot get did of this dark cloud that looms above my head, weighs down my shoulders and vacuums all of the goodness from within me. What kind of life am I living!? How can I keep the beast at bay? I try so very hard to live and fit into this world but I must confess how overwhelming it is. I sit and I cry. From the outside in I probably look a little distant at times, but if you could see inside. See the floors in the mechanics of my mind. Hear the constant war from inside my head. Asphyxiated by psychosis, anxiety and depression. When will it stop? When will I be able? I like it best when I sleep, sleep with a steady heartbeat and dream of being free. I awake to the nightmare of my reality and often wish that I did not wake at all. Some people live in a bubble, somewhere light and free. I habitate in a cold and dark, rotting cell. Little steps like a baby, I try to move forward and recover but I keep falling, keep failing and lagging behind. When I manage to keep up and stay on top, there are moments when I forget my ill health. Then I come crashing back down, hitting the ground hard, as gravity holds me down. All hopes and dreams of really living cease as goblins feast on my spirit and mood, swallowing anything good, whole. I cling on for the people I love, the people that I hate, not for myself, who would want to cling onto this! Is it something to do with the world being balanced? Did I just get the bad deal? I don’t understand why I feel the way I am feeling and I would never wish it upon anyone else.