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.

No One

Looking in the mirror,
I think I may have lost my identity,
When I broke down so much of my substance leaked out of me,
Some achieve hiding the cracks and honour that with pride,
I am unable to mask my ruptured crevices and so I cannot hide,
Hesitantly I share my journey,
But that does not make me an exhibitionist,
And please hear me when I say that attention is not what I seek,
I sacrifice all bad judgement in sake of helping others,
I tell all to help other people out.
As a woman of a certain age,
I’ve been left on the shelf,
Abandonment has erupted my ill mental health,
In search of sanity,
I pray for clarity,
Yet remain lost in a haze of memories and dreams,
Triggered psychosis,
Nothing is at it seems,
I know unhappiness,
Loneliness,
Deep, dark depression,
Anxiety,
PTSD,
OCD,
They are all a part of me,
But who am I actually?
With the baggage,
The tears,
The cover ups,
The fears,
Who I am doesn’t matter,
I could be anyone and everyone,
No one in particular,
Just unhappy,
I don’t know how to be anyone else,
Even though I no longer recognise myself

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.

Devils Whisper…

I see what you don’t!
I wish that I could open your eyes,
Rid of your blindness,
And finally let you see,
The beautiful colours around you,
That glistens around your circumference,
All at once,
From below,
And above,
Engulfing your whole mortal coil,
Your entirety,
Love radiates energy that transpires so loudly,
When it is pure,
And true,
It is visible to all,
But seemingly not you!
Somehow blind to it,
You are missing out on this organic beauty,
Is it your mistrust?
Or did I trust too much?
Are your faults to blame?
Or a fault of mine own?
Why am I even a factor?
I know that I have done no wrong,
At least not intentionally,
It’s a two person ticket on your love train,
But,
Envy,
Insecurity,
Suspicions of infidelity,
The devil whispers in your ear,
Clinging onto you,
Trying to ignite flames of jealousy,
Reaping from making you unhappy,
That negativity was his work,
Deceived,
You thought ill of me.
You being untrustworthy of me,
Has truly grazed me,
Bruised me,
And now I fear that it may not heal.
I know no other way to be but myself,
And so I wonder,
Am I at fault?
If so,
Will I continue to be,
Because I know not what to do,
But be myself,
Honest and true,
I would never betray you.
Has the Devil tainted your vision?
Distorted you perception?
Manipulated your impression?
Shaken you up enough to feel owed a confession?
When in fact this was the devils mission,
I have nothing to confess,
Yet I fear that my innocence has left you upset.
I now know not how to act,
What to do,
And fear that the only resolution is to distance myself from you.
I lose two,
But love should always come first,
If my absence is your remedy,
I back down humbly,
But let my actions not fool you,
I accept this duty for the saviour of your romance,
The only love I have ever had for either of you,
Has always been equally platonic.
Either way indecent thoughts were felt,
And travelled from a Devils whisper,
Delivered by your tongue,
Like a bullet to my head.
My heart belongs to another,
And even if there were any truth in the sabotage,
And Devils lies,
I hope one day you may recognise,
That I am loyal,
And would never betray someone,
Some two dear to me,
Never you,
Never you two,
I hope one day,
You may sincerely accept that fact loud and clear,
And come to love and trust me again too!

noone adiaryfromnoone

My birth name is Jade Phipps, but as a self appointed mental health awareness advocate I go by the name, “No One”. No One stands for no one in particular, there for anyone and everyone. I represent and reach out to the people.
I personally suffer from, “Borderline Personality Disorder, type Impulsive” which for me includes, depression, anxiety, mania, dissociation and psychosis. I am managed by my community mental health team, I see my Community Psychiatric Nurse fortnightly and my Support Worker once a week. I was diagnosed after having a breakdown. I have always suffered from depression and was diagnosed with it at the age of sixteen but since my latest diagnosis, I subsequently found out that it was expected that I had BPD back then in 2000, but this information was not shared with me until being institutionalised in 2013.
I have been in and out of hospital at least once a year since then, always voluntary, but my last admittance in 2017 was initially under a section 2 for 28 days, which was completed, I then voluntarily stayed a further 2 months.
I am a very creative person by nature and discovered writing poetry whilst being considerably unwell and in and out of hospital. My website, “www.adiaryfromnoone.co.uk” is a result of this. It basically includes my whole life story thus far and is added to whilst I remain on this journey. I have great support and followers that enjoy my writing, I always alert and shoutout when I put new stuff up, via my Facebook page or Twitter (noone adiaryfromnoone). Intrigue has allowed the curious and those of which identify to accompany me on this current path. It has bought great attention to my door, I have featured on BBC national news, BBC WM radio and a London based radio show called, “The Real Deal”. All outlets sourced me from discovering my website!
Reading is not for everybody and I want to reach as many people as possible and so I decided that I needed and wanted a different outlet, this gave birth to, “No One’s Lounge”! A new chat show with the focal point of mental health. Each episode consists of a panel and creative guest. Think “Loose Women”/”BBC Live Lounge”. I did a Christmas Pilot trailer… https://youtu.be/SOYO6Q8pg3Q and full length… https://youtu.be/4mC_l48Ixkc and then a trailer for what will hopefully be a ten episode season this 2018…https://youtu.be/CP7sBZpf7mU and season 1, episode 1 in full… https://youtu.be/5f3DEY1GXUg
My work and this new project have already sparked interest off BBC Radio 4.
Society needs to be made more aware of what mental health really is. We need a decrease in stigma and increase in knowledge. I do not fault the people who have tainted views of what ill mental health is, because unless you go looking for it, or personally experience it, the main sources of information out there are overwhelming, misrepresented, creating stigma and encouraging ignorance. I want to filter and leak information and experiences from real people, to and for real peoole, made obtainable to everyone. Knowledge is power. Communication and honesty equals power. This chat show features real people, who have had real life mental health experiences, it is the pinicle of reality. A touch of music or poetry is just a nice touch of alternative communication.
In my opinion, the majority of people don’t really know about mental health until they personally or their loved ones/colleagues/associates get unwell. Everyone is susceptible to ill mental health, there for everyone should have some sort of realistic understanding of what it is and/or can be, just as a safe guard. The topic should be accurate common Knowledge, and who better to learn from then the people who have experienced it themselves!?
My dream is big, I cannot reach the entire nation alone but with the help of others, by coming on my show, scattering it across social media, watching, sharing, talking about and subscribing, my message of hope, shameless communication, empowerment and understanding may reach further a shore.
In the meantime I am personally fighting to stay afloat every single day. Exhausted by accelerated mood swings, causing chronic lethargy, it is hard to fight and keep motivated but the bigger picture goes way beyond I, my fight is for the people because I am No One and noone represents everyone.
Check out anything noone adiaryfromnoone and please join me on this crusade of mental health awareness.

You Know Me Mentally…

Some of you don’t know me,
Perhaps some of you do,
Perhaps some of you will,
Perhaps some of you won’t,
In a physical sense I mean,
Not sexual,
But sensual,
A strong connection,
Beyond face to face
Or rubbing shoulders,
We share mindfulness,
All of my readers,
You know me mentally,
You are on this journey with me,
It’s long
And tough,
But you keep coming back,
And I really appreciate that!
My honesty is for everyone,
To learn,
Share,
Connect,
And see,
How ill mental health can be.
My self appointed mission,
Is to share the stuff others don’t or wont say or see,
With you by my side,
I do not mind the vulnerability,
Of sharing what is happening to me,
Because I may inspire some,
But I am empowered by you,
You are my light in the dark,
My anchor in the sea,
You give me the gift of stability,
Communicating with you gives me clarity,
Our unity,
Helps me own up to being me,
Not the false person that society dictates that I should be,
This website right here,
I speak of nothing but the truth,
No sugar coating,
Filter,
Or honesty proof,
This is my story,
Who I am,
How you can really get to know me,
No time or distance can get in the way,
This website says all I have to say.

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!