A Diary From Noone

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

Tag: #voice

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.

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! ❤

The Vulnerable Seem To Suffer The Most

There is nothing worse then the feeling of being unheard, dismissed and passed around in an unpleasant circle of pain, despair and wasted time! I don’t want to complain, I am acknowledged in the mental health system, I do receive continuous care which I am aware is luckier then most! I am not ungrateful, I appreciate the care in which I receive but when I fall, I fall hard and unfortunately feel that either I am not helped at all or helped to late. There are numbers to call, people to speak to but rarely instantly and when in crisis, time is of the essence! I do not talk of suicide lightly but the rates are high and I believe that a lack of instant intervention is the reason why. Like myself, there are many vulnerable people out there. It is understandable when friends and family cannot understand the realms of mental health and more importantly crisis but not acceptable when the professionals paid to help, simply don’t. I have lost faith in the mental health system, so much so that I am growing tired of reaching out and baring my soul because it is emotionally exhausting and seems to get me nowhere. I could be doused in petrol and rolling around in flames and still get overlooked.
I have tried to tell the help about my symptoms that have escalated, the reason why I believe they have and absolutely nothing has been done to pacify, comfort or help me. They have nothing new to offer, nothing helpful, hopeful or of any use. I don’t expect a miracle or an easy ride. I am willing to graft, I am fighting every single day, every hour and every minute anyway! I seek help but remain disappointed.
Depression is horrific and intense, having an overwhelming feeling of self loathing and insignificance, when smiles are fake, tears are heavy and your energy is drained.
Anxiety has you physically shaking, gasping for air and an overwhelming feeling of suffocation, which instigates panic.
Borderline, Personality Disorder has you dragged up and down an unstoppable and unstable scale of uncertainty and instability. There are moments of mania and moments of horrendous lows. There are moments of numbness and moments of piercing pain. I, having no control over how I feel and why I feel it, endure a spiral of rational,irrational, emotional and unemotional outbursts. I have an inability to regulate emotions, but I try my hardest to monitor and therefor recognise symptoms before the storm, or at least throughout. I continuously end up in a constant battle with myself!. I do everything I can to stay well. I Take my medication. I engage with appointed help. I document my triggers in order to find patterns that may be telling in the future. I continuously try to distract myself from over analysing or from unwanted psychosis but the reality is, I am vulnerable. I am emotionally unstable and a normal day to others is no longer a normal day for me. My days mostly consist of emotional turmoil. A bump in the road to others may be catastrophic to me. Having a simple idea may escalate to intense euphoria and unrealistic idealisation. An awful lot of emotions run through my veins and I surf from rational to irrational in an erratic synchronisation with a pendulum. I tiptoe on the thin line of sanity and insanity. I loath my forever changing reflection and look upon professionals for protection whilst I endure an infinity of pain.
I think back fondly of the days when I was able to get by and cry with regret that those days are over. Until you have endured the excruciating and life shattering whirlwind of psychosis, you will never fully understand it. You can read about it, listen to the testimonies of those that have suffered but still have no idea of the strength, pain and power of the combination of my woes unless you to, endure it! I would wish it upon no one.
I apologise to all that I confuse and hurt by my honest declarations’ but do so to make other sufferers feel some comfort in knowing that they are not alone, and to give the professionals some substance to work with. Although I have given this website to around forty plus professionals and I would be surprised if even 2% have bothered to log in!
You can try to convince me that the voices are not real, tell me to tell them to #### off but that would only result in me looking more insane and add fuel to the fire. It seems acceptable to hurt ones self and redeemed safe if I am not a physical threat or violent towards others. This notion is bizarre to me and adds to the fuel of me feeling insignificant.
You don’t need to fear me but I fear myself. I am scared at how easily I am effected and disrupted by the behaviour of others. I am scared that when irrational I may one day succeed in taking my own life and leave my loved ones perhaps ahead of time, especially my sister. I am scared that I will never be free of this pain, suffering and these vile symptoms. I am scared that I will never achieve anything again. I am scared that I will never be understood and loved romantically by a man when I have such unpredictable baggage. I am scared that I will never become a mother. I am scared that I may succeed in suicide, because it seems like the only true route to escape this burden. A lifetime of this!? I am scared that I do not have the strength to endure it. I am scared that my purpose is to die in honour of others that need saving. I long for peace, calm and silence. I wish to be helped. Why do the vulnerable ones always seem to suffer the most!?
I am reckless at times, because I want to feel alive, forget all of this pain, be careless and free, to enjoy some time without negativity, to trick my mind into believing that I am happy. I think this is why alot of borderlines have drug and alcohol addictions. For the most part, creativity is my vice but I would probably try anything right now, just to feel warm and nice! Not rotten, cold inside and full of dread, with an enormous rodent running wild and spreading poison in my head.
Perhaps delusional but I have a feeling that one day my words will be discovered, used for good purpose, be quoted and recognised but I will be here no longer. What will be will be. People have said that they find comfort in my honesty, beauty and sadness in my poetry and often learn from my blogs. This illness will live on way beyond my existence, regardless to when I die. I can only hope it will be received and dealt with more sensitively in years to come. I think of the young ones who are suffering, hormones on top of all the rest. I write to help and educate everyone but always have the youngers at the forefront of my mind. Please help me raise awareness by sharing any of my work with people that you feel may benefit from reading what is essentially an enormous autobiographical dissertation on the realms of living with severe mental health problems and the trials and tribulations of survival, with creative and poetic undertones’, documented from 2013 for the unforeseeable future. A literacy version of reality TV, for those that prefer to read. This site and all within it comes from the truth and nothing but the truth of, No One!

A tribute to a Legend…

“Crack is wack!”‘ She said,
But everyone has their vices,
Legendary and known to all,
But even the mighty can fall!
Acting, singing, dancing,
Performing was her game,
That was her art and passion,
But the drugs were her flame.
She didn’t know her own strength for true,
Got lost in drugs when feeling blue,
To see her through.
It was tragic how she died,
Not at all dignified,
She could have got help,
But in denial swore she was clean,
She lied.
Her memory lives strong,
We can still listen to song after song,
But she is dead, buried and gone.
Our Whitney,
The epitome of warranted fame and beauty,
Lost but not forgotten,
Her lyrics still ring true to me,
Timeless,
She lives on in our hearts.

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