Not your average patient…

Read between the lines,
This does not mean judge.
Listen,
Don’t preempt.
See me,
Not my medical records.
Articulation and intelligence are not inaccessible due to mental illness,
Mental health does not diminish integrity,
Trauma does,
Not only the impact before you get out your pen and paper,
Flick through the pages of text from psychiatry books that remain in your mind from years ago,
And have not been updated nor refreshed,
But your stigma,
Makes me ill,
Your lack of seeing me,
Makes me cry,
You are not a shoulder nor a rock that I can lean upon,
Or rely,
So I continue to suffer,
But I hold back and lie,
Because I don’t want to frequent your units,
Have you in and out of my house,
I’d rather get a blade out,
Suffer in silence,
Bleed out,
Not utter a word of it and cover up when you are scheduled to reach out.
Mental health system,
You never fail to disappoint.
My silence says much more than you realise.
My words rattle your cage,
You cannot process when I protest.
If my knowledge exceeds yours,
You switch to flight,
Say oh she’s not ill,
She’s alright.
I’m complex,
But this is not a test,
And should not be a fight,
I am more than your ignorance and outdated opinion,
I’m the one that may slip away in the night.
This is more than 9-5,
This is my fucking life!

Black, Female and Mentally Ill…And Fighting Still!

There is a fine line between sanity and insanity.
I stare at my reflection,
Seeking perfection,
Honestly having no idea about what that truely is.
I’m on the borderline of stability and instability,
Every ounce of me fragmented,
And scattered further than the eye can see,
Between Black and White,
Spread way out to beyond infinity.
My mind is heavy,
The weight affecting my physicality,
Heavy shoulders crush my body and psyche,
Mascarade my identity.
Tight lipped,
Yet open,
I share,
But do not declare all,
As that would make me vulnerable beyond repair,
And I need to try and be present,
As I continuously try to process,
What others don’t see,
Know,
Nor understand,
Combating the high demand,
Constant flickers of my mind,
A glitch,
Each switch,
Pain like bolts of lightening,
The tornado,
The storm,
No choice but to surpress,
I cannot confess,
If I wish to rub shoulders,
Walk beside you,
Clean up the mess of injustice and segregation.
I play the game,
To appear the same,
To not appear to roam to far off track,
Because once your off the grid,
You can never come back.
I must not be too loud,
I must not appear angry,
My foots in the door,
But there’s a long journey ahead of me,
Especially with the ill mental health struggles that I adhere to daily,
That debilitate me.
I’m black,
I’m a woman,
With BPD,
Whose going to give a platform to me?
Nobody!
I must fight my own fight,
There is no option of flight,
People need to hear me,
See me,
For help,
Understanding,
And rationality,
21st century,
And yet still I am denied because of my nationally,
Hindered by my gender,
Muted for my disability.
Stigma boxes me,
Taboo blocks me,
But nothing will silence me,
People will find me,
As I won’t campaign quietly,
You can extinguish my fire,
But I will start another,
And another,
Until we are accepted by society,
And welcomed to equality.

Who do you turn to?

Just had a wobble,
A relapse,
Takes me back,
Like no time has passed,
Like I had never moved on,
Turned a corner,
Learnt to manage my self in a civilised order.
I can’t bring myself to pick up the phone,
To ask for help and support,
Because I am terrified of rejection.
I often feel like a cock roach,
Vermin,
Never ending,
Drowning,
Burning,
Noose,
Pills,
Sharps,
I’m indestructible,
I just keep coming back.
So many times I have intended to take flight,
When I am all out of line,
I cannot bare not feeling right,
Yet time and time again this feeling reoccurs.
What would I gain from sharing my pain?
I will just end up loosing people again.
So in silence I pour my heart out on this page,
As I try and navigate silently away from self destruction,
I think of my angels,
The comfort of burning sage,
As I try to flush out this internal sadness,
Pain,
And rage.

Worms Meat

I’m sorry that I get lost,
And for whatever cost that conjures up for you.
Just hear me now when I say that it is never my intention to hurt you,
Just like the pain you often unconsciously & constantly impact upon me.
Drowning,
Suffocated by the waves of the sea,
Unable to speak,
Reach out,
Lungs first filled with dispair,
Now lacking oxygen and air,
No one anywhere,
To help me,
No one sees me,
No one hears me,
No rescue,
And even if…
No remedy,
So with great tragedy,
I am taken,
Before you awaken to the facts of BPD,
Recognise how your actions,
Or lack of,
Have affected me.
How you may have triggered me relentlessly,
Saying you’d be there,
But keeping your distance from me,
Making me feel a menace,
Because my times of despair don’t suit thee.
How you showered me with assumptions,
False testament that you care,
Would always be there.
No professional support,
Lacking supervision,
Troubled mind,
Troubled soul,
Constantly fighting,
In competition,
Against the dark.
Beginning to dream of the light,
The dark reigns to tight,
Engolfed me,
Strangulation,
Dumping me,
Asphyxiation,
Abandoning me eternally,
I die,
Fighting until the last breath of my life,
Which I have taken,
Keen to try the unknown,
As ripped apart,
My connection to this world no longer sewn.
Typically late,
Perhaps once gone my transparency shall be found,
And then you will hear my story,
And perhaps understand me,
Learn from me and my legacy,
Help others whom are like me,
As my archives will be available for eternity,
And I hope I won’t be bitter,
All will be forgiven,
Despite your triggers of rejection,
Abandonment,
Inability to understand when I needed you to help me,
Ultimately making worms meat of me.
I may leave this mortal coil,
But my soul shall shine eternally.

adiaryfromnoone

Hello me lovelies, just a reminder that my YouTube channel adiaryfromnoone BPD playlist releases new footage every week on a Sunday. I will do my best to provide you all with food for thought every week of 2021, but of cause suffering from BPD myself may make my goal impossible; yet thusfar (30/03/21) I have kept my pact, despite being in hospital for an entire week but it was very demanding and hard work. I must be real with both all of you and myself, there may be some blank weeks. To stay on top, on track and to never miss out… Please show your support and share videos like…

And please subscribe asap, it gives me drive, because analytics, if not likes/subs/comments proove that I am reaching people and hopefully helping/educating/relating/processing bringing love and light through truth and reflection of mine own experiences and empathy. I am not a medical professional nor mental health practitioner but I am a self appointed mental health advocate. I believe sometimes you have to know somethings through experience, not learn through textbooks but life itself. adiaryfromnoone is about helping others and encouraging togetherness because of strength in numbers, so please join me and share both this website and YouTube channel to help ke help others?
❤️☀️🙏🏾 Just copy and paste either below…
adiaryfromnoone…
https://youtube.com/channel/UCpOtZyoRdlme1v3uX-fhYTA
BPD Playlist…

6 week bender…

Back in the day, this tittle may have suggested parties and substanceabuse in one way or another, now its a realisation that I have been somewhat manic all year thus far. Stepping out and actually thinking about iy all, I spot self image and splitting issues, I really consider myself (Jade) to be entirely seperate to adiaryfromnoone but we shate the same heart and mine is broken!
As adiaryfromnoone I am strong, resilient, passionate, brave, open, honest, processing, investigating, reflecting, relating, educating and bossing mental health awareness.
I had been familiarising myself with like minded people, in Facebook groups and sharing my informative videos from the BPD playlist on my YouTube channel adiaryfromnoone only to discover that some groups are very territorial, not fans of my sharing, most likely in fear of me taking the spotlight. I cannot believe (especially the BPD) groups are so pernickety and controlling about my posts. I want to reach out and help, my style of which is by sharing my weekly video’s. Trying to stick to one post a day, despite having a personal odd relationship with time, gave me purpose and healing, to have this access taken away, by the groups designed to help me is hypocritical, contradictory, damaging and absurd.
So now, rejected with no idea of how long I will be blocked and then the need to try and not have that block repeated is unsettling and upsetting. I am fragile, this knock may seem small but I do not cope well with change, my hours and hours of busying myself with adiaryfromnoone every single day, has been taken away.
I don’t know how else to reach out. This is why I have created the Facebook group; MENTAL HEALTH CHAT to not be selfish and limiting, to obviously be weary of trigger posts but to allow people to share and communicate through whatever avenue suits them best, poetry, art, chit chat, offloading etc,so please join our currently small but exciting and refreshing group, “MENTAL HEALTH CHAT”.
So if you read this, on my behalf, please share the following on all socials;
YouTube channel adiaryfromnoone and the BPD playlist, the more people I reach, the more peole I can connect with.
https://youtube.com/channel/UCpOtZyoRdlme1v3uX-fhYTA
Love & Light ❤️ ☀️ xx adiaryfromnoone
Your subscriptions let me know loud and clear, that my mission to raise mental health awareness is being received loud and clear 🙏🏾
Plus I thank you for always finding the time to pop by here and read my latest. Thank you.

BPD since 16 at the very least, diagnosed 2013

BPD,
You are strong,
Where hence did you come from?
Despite all of my efforts,
I know you will never fully be gone.
You are a menace,
And I am a victim to your nuisance.
You are a bully,
You are dangerous,
A hazord,
Savage,
Brutal,
And far to strong,
I’ve tried religion,
Medication,
Spiritualism,
Therapy,
But you never leave me,
All I wish is for you to be gone.
Unless you have it,
It is the greatest challenge to explain this illness to everyone,
And you revel in it,
My failure means you have won,
But it ain’t over yet,
I am the fat lady,
And I have not yet sung,
Someday I will,
And you will be obliterated, Annihilated,
Blasted into smitherines,
And unable to poison anyone.
Just vermin from the past,
In absence,
You will be forgotten,
And we shall reclaim our strength,
At last!
Until then we fight,
I dawn light upon you,
To make others aware,
To stay clear,
For those already consumed to have hope,
That all of the pain and misery,
Will be honoured in our eventual victory.
F### you BPD!

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

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.