[POEM] .

I can feel their grip tightening today.
Where reality becomes as tenuous
As the breath from my imagined
Demons. Which should I turn
My cheek to?

Reaching for their overdue pay.
They make living just as arduous
As the dreams that blackened
My heart. How should I burn
My sins away?

I curl myself into comforts that
Stretch as far as time, but penetrate
Shallow into my soul. When will
I be whole. When should I battle
For my life?

Vision turns angled and flat.
Sounds bombard me and reverberate
Through bleached bones. My pill
Won’t make me whole. Who will rattle
My chains for freedom?

Darkness and coffin surround
Me unseen, until I bury myself,
With only my imagination to weep
At my death. What has this
Sorry life become?

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[POEM] Sometimes

It still strikes within my broken body
When I had thought it was dying a death.

It turns, grinning and moving wildly
And reminds me of its depth and breadth.

All consuming, it pushes in madly
Demanding I give it each ragged breath.

All sense of time and true reality
Leaves me, as does my soul’s wealth.

[DEPRESSION] 2 weeks over – What now?

Two weeks have passed, and though my sleeping has improved (Wahey waking up at 5am instead of somewhere around 3am), I now feel anxious when I wake up.

My mind unpleasantly wrestles me from sleep at full strength, whirring before I even know sleep is over. My dreams are vivid, but I don’t remember most of them and that suits me just fine.

Queasy, reactive stomach, though my libido seems… fine? Not under-active and it’s resurfaced after a long depression related dormant period.

BUT – I actually felt feelings yesterday. And once the day before. I almost giggled in public, and I actually felt endorphins when I went to the gym. So instead of being permanently grey or irritated, or hateful, I have actually begun to feel some joy.

I really didn’t realise how much it had been missing from my life until I felt that little spark. It was such a shock, and such an alien feeling that it actually hurts a little, and makes me feel somewhat uncomfortable at moments.

But I’m looking forward to learning how to feel and be vulnerable again, which I haven’t had to do in a long time.

Vulnerability is something I’ll have to focus on.

[DEPRESSION] Week 2 of Prozac

Sleep. Sleep has finally started to come back to me somewhat.

The first week was queasy spells, sleepless nights (waking up at 3am), some anxiety, exhaustion, confusion, forgetfullness and continuous yawning. The acid reflux was pretty bad, too, and I found myself eating more to cope with the stress. First day I was incredibly suicidal, thoughts of self harm continuously and crying in the bathrooms at work, and even more at home.

Week 2, waking up is less painful. I actually get a half decent sleep, though I’m still exhausted and my stomach is still upset and showing the signs. Heart burn is still worse than usual, and I’m completely forgetful. I’ll move to do something, only to forget instantly what it is I’m supposed to be doing.

Less gym due to low energy, which also means back pain. Eating less now, barely ate yesterday. Heavy palpitations for hours, feeling sick, anxious, work was a bit too much. I’m definitely improving, just slowly. I’m hoping the positive effects start soon.

Palpitations seem to have started again, and I’m so distracted I can barely focus.

 

How I’ve pulled through it? By allowing myself more treats, more time to myself, being less hard on myself, taking time to relax and pushing myself to be comfortable with help.

I’ve been lucky enough to have so much support from the people around me, and though I feel uncomfortable accepting help, I’ve pushed myself to do it. It’s helped A LOT, and I feel like I’m actually enjoying things a little again.

[POEM] Tell me

Tell me how I should love you, while
Numb to the tips of my fingers and toes.
Tell me how I should feel one with you,
Though I am a shattered creation by myself.
Tell me how you survive on such meagre
Rations as hope. Gruel in replacement for
The constant love I once gave to you.

Tell me how I should love you, me
Who is full of hate and black storms.
Tell me how I should feel when I can’t
Even touch your skin without sorrow.
Tell me how you continue to hold stars
In your eyes for me when I am nought
But uncertainty and suffering.

Tell me how I used to love you, with
Clutching hands and certain chest.
Tell me how I used to feel, your soft
Skin quickening and comforting at once.
Tell me how you felt when you first
Found out that my soul was dying, and
Fast behind it was racing my heart.

I will tell you I love you, soon,
And know I mean it to my depths.
I will feel you, whole, and become lost
In your world of faeries and darkness.
You will wonder how we could have
Ever been otherwise, you and I.
You probably already do.

How we could have ever been full of love,
When now you are time and patience, and
I am pain. Shadow beaten pain.

[Depression] Day three on Prozac

Prozac is giving me heavy pressures and little rest from the waking dullness of the day. Emotions have begun to actually happen, but sleepless nights lay behind and ahead of me with tepid carelessness.

Side effects settle slowly, and I have a long span of fighting ahead of me, trying to cope until the pills start to work. The listlessness is fine, and being mostly void of feelings is also fine. But the body aches and pains, the headaches and the exhaustion that can’t be lessened is difficult.

I seem to find myself full of restless energy but exhausted at the same time. I’m comfort eating (mostly because I’m allowing myself – I’m learning not to stretch myself too thin again)

Maybe it’s time for copious amounts of tea? If anyone has advice on what can help a full time worker make the symptoms more bearable, I’m all ears.

I’ve read it can take a month. Some people say ten days.

[Self help] I am actually off to see my doctor

Poetry or writing hasn’t come easy to me recently, and neither has work.

I’m not the best worker, I’m distinctly easy to distract and that gets worse with my lower moods and lack of sleep. If I’m not passionate about the work, or feel like I’m given clear instructions I don’t push myself overly much. I hate these traits to be honest, but I’m so exhausted I can’t actually be bothered to change them.

I also think I need a new place to work but that’s another story.

Either way, I’m going to ask to be put on medication again, and talk about my symptoms, on Monday. Wish me luck.

[Self Help] St John’s Wort, self therapy & facing medication

This is coming from a person who has so far come into so many ‘walls’ with the NHS that she’s too tired to try anymore.

They’ve had me crying on the phone while arguing with me about their professionalism, keep expecting me to be able to drop an hour out of my day to provide the same information I’ve provided over and over again (an hour of my working day, where I would then have to return to work in an overly emotional state) and have informed me that my wage means I -should- be paying £30 an hour when I am distinctly quite broke living in London.

I have started facing the idea of medication with no professional aid, despite the fact that Mind recommends only using medication for severe depression, and that it shouldn’t be your sole method of recovery.

I loathe the idea of going back on to medication, but the constant exhaustion and reliance on cigarettes, alcohol and other substances to cope is too much. I’ve fooled myself with looking at over the counters, such as St John’s Wort, because I don’t want side effects that come with my pills. I keep thinking if I just keep carrying on and trying my best to live that eventually I will start to live. It’s become my daily lie, mostly because I’m exhausted. The smaller part of me, however, has just given up hope I can ever lead a functioning life without physical pain, mental anguish and often times a total lack of emotions plaguing me on a daily basis.So, I’m heading back to medication, and hopefully with a good dose of healthy eating, exercise, meditation and spending my money on happiness instead of image… Who knows, I might at least find myself again.

I don’t take this decision lightly, and neither should anyone else. I have deliberated, spoken to my nearest and most trusted friends. Most of my friends always ask “Have you seen your Doctor? Why aren’t you in therapy?” continuously, which is less than helpful. I feel accused, as if I’m choosing to be ill, and maybe that’s what pushed me to now think of medication again.

I didn’t hate the medication, but I hated the lack of care and information my doctors had. When I said I wanted to come off them, they didn’t have a conversation with me, they didn’t seem concerned. It was just “Do you feel able to come off them? Ok, taper them off… ” and I was told how to reduce dosage until I didn’t need my tablets anymore.
They don’t seem to realise I was first diagnosed 13 years ago. I know I’m the best judge of my mental state, but surely coming off medication warrants some sort of check up? A couple of therapy sessions while you begin to cope with normal life?
Things went wrong, I heaved and almost threw up due to my body’s reaction to coming off my meds in the way they suggested. I was told this was abnormal – ok fine – but after being given further medication advice that contradicted Mind I just said enough was enough. I was done trusting these people who obviously had no idea what they were doing.

I hate that I have to trust these people AGAIN. I don’t want to trust them. I have the distinct impression they don’t care, even though they assure me they do while I sit and weep in the patient’s chair, livid and exhausted.

I’m rambling now. I hope any of you with mental health problems have better facilities you can reach out to, and if not please do use any resources you can.

You can do this.

[Depression] Thank yourself. Every day. Ignore the feeling of dreadful cheesiness.

I’ve not posted any new self help method attempts in a while, mostly because I’m currently going through a very low period of depression.

Those times where the sadness ebbs into something much more grey than you could imagine, and you feel like an empty hollow wandering aimlessly. You’ll likely lose motivation, passion and emotions. You might feel like a phony, living in the stead of someone who used to be very much alive and real. You may sleep all day, or never be able to lay your head to rest, eat too much or not enough. There are always differences in how each of us experiences our lowest of lows, but it sucks balls for each and every one of us.

Normally, my coping mechanism used to be drink a lot, smoke a lot, go out, get crazy. This lead to emotional breakdowns, stupid decisions and a whole host of anxiety and heart palpitations from alcohol and cigarettes. Now, I’ve given up that life, cutting down my drinking and only having more than one if I know I’m in a good spot. It’s helped a lot, but it hasn’t solved this destructive urge. I still turn to cigarettes but I don’t implode the way my body wants me too. I have no solution yet for this, though I have found something that helps soothe over this pain just a little.

Say thank you to yourself.

I first heard this in a yoga class (so I know, this sounds old, cheesy and you’ve probably heard it a million times). I practice some yoga alone, using videos and apps, and realizing each time how horrendously stiff and inflexible I am. Last Sunday, I decided to have a change of pace, let’s actually join in with a group of people, be around the presence of others and see if that brings me more peace.

It didn’t just bring me peace, it brought out some of the pain in me. After an hour and a half of hard work, listening to my body, thinking about me exclusively and letting my form move in ways it wanted I felt released. I felt like a small crack had formed in the tough grey wall that stopped me feeling. When the instructor then said the words “Ignore that criticizing voice inside of you. It’s a decision, decide every day not to listen. Thank your body, send yourself love.”

I remind you, I am a meat eating, weight lifting kinkster who’s more cynical and bitter than at peace with the world, but this struck me hard in the chest to the point that tears rose, unfallen, into my eyes. I realized that the idea of pushing away these negative thoughts and sending positive ones to myself felt alien and wrong to the strongest degree. That I had allowed my mind to poison itself into such self hatred that I absolutely couldn’t appreciate how hard my body had worked. Because there was always better, always the next goal, it was all about progress and never understand that what I was doing in itself was enough. That still working out and eating healthy while going through a dark mental episode was enough. Living was enough.

So, for everyone out there who might be forgetting that they deserve thanks, thank yourself. Appreciate yourself. Living IS enough. Choosing the positive voice, at least sometimes, is enough. Do not let this disease dictate how you speak to yourself.

Maybe just a little bit of self kindness could go a long way for you. You deserve to feel happy, even if it feels like the world is against you

[POEM] Better Love – Hozier

How do we know how alone we are?
Is it when we trust ourselves into a stranger’s arms?
Is it when we realize that trust only extends to the blink of an eye?
Or maybe when we finally release and fall into the burning sky.

Only you. You whose heart is so open.
Open to me and closed to the pain that intimacy brings.
Weeping from the back of my world of eternal, painful sleep.
There’s no better love waiting for this pitiful soul to keep.

Just justify me with a diagnosis, whole.
Just give me the pills I need and throw me to the cold.
We all deserve better love than disposable prescriptions.
It beckons to me, a soldier left to the conscription.

And you’ll watch me. Falling away from grace.
Looking up to heaven, just empty, heavy outer space.
I once hoped, shaken through with every tear and breath
Hush a bye honey, and keep lying for the purpose of death.

Knowing how alone we are, how known we are.
There is no better love for us sitting here in mortality.
All diseased but clutching the cure to ourselves selfishnly.
We run in circles, chasing our own pain endlessly.

Our truth will be burned from History, even as
Each one of us screams “WITNESS ME” into the black.
Void, so vast it burns us away from the books. Paper meaningless
And stained. Justified is this death, and these actions with the words:
We didn’t know any better.