Mental illness as a choice (advice if you're living with someone with a mental illness)
Well this is fun, sitting in the dark.
Well this is fun, feeling like a failure.
Well this is fun, having a racing heart.
Well this is fun, I think I might be dying here.
Well this is fun, so fun in fact, that I actually chose to be like this.
I chose to be unable to communicate much of time, and to feel un-alive.
I chose to long for an adolescence that obsessions and illness made me miss.
I chose to be told to just get over it, and to feel the guilt that comes along with hurting those loved one's of mine.
Sounds absurd right?
Of course it does, that's because it is. There's no-one on earth who would choose this.
And yes there are many exponentially worse things to experience, but having a broken mind is pretty high on the list, of things from our lives we would like to banish.
Lend the principle of charity to those around you, they're probably not totally irrational. So why would they want to feel guilt over silly things like eating some food, or someone else's random bad mood?
There's a reason some people have a particularly hard time with this messy business of life, and everyone's reasons are different variations on the human condition.
So perhaps it's time to just be kind, and resist any assumptions and accusations, it's unlikely to be done for attention, or with any kind of negative intentions.
I wouldn't blame someone for having a headache, so please don't blame people for having an illness in their brain, and don't expect it to just go away.
Please take note though, it's ok to say when it's hard, because living with people with scars, and inconspicuously broken hearts, is a difficult task.
Patience will be needed on both sides; neither of you deserves to carry the whole burden.
Improvement is possible, although it will most likely be slow, so don't feel too discouraged if things worsen.
Relapses are probably going to happen, learn to expect and accept them.
That's doesn't mean you say they're ok, but making a big deal of them is only going to make them more likely to happen.
And remember that we all exist on a spectrum, there's no such thing as completely sane, we can't expect to all be the same.
People with clinical conditions are the same as you, and it shouldn't be taboo, it's just one of those things, like rain at a barbecue, that life throws at us, and we have to make do.
Mental illness as a choice (advice if you're living with someone with a mental illness) part two
You have a choice, as a parent, when your child starts acting in a way that can only be politely described as worrying.
You have a choice between drowning in fear and misunderstanding, which I know is oh so tempting, and understandable, or trying to educate yourself the best you can, given the circumstances.
I urge you to take the latter route, and choose love, and remember that your child doesn't mean to act as they do, or hurt you, or themselves.
It may feel like hell, but it's really no-one's fault, unless of course you're guilty of abuse or assault, which, if you’re taking the time to read this, I doubt.
So, seek help, and know that you deserve the help too, it's something that together you'll have to go through.
Above all, please make the choice to talk to your child, it can make the world of difference to their mental health, and I promise it will help to propel them towards recovery, and yeah it will probably be one of those obnoxious and cliché 'journey's', but sometimes that's what you need.
Well this is fun, sitting in the dark.
Well this is fun, feeling like a failure.
Well this is fun, having a racing heart.
Well this is fun, I think I might be dying here.
Well this is fun, so fun in fact, that I actually chose to be like this.
I chose to be unable to communicate much of time, and to feel un-alive.
I chose to long for an adolescence that obsessions and illness made me miss.
I chose to be told to just get over it, and to feel the guilt that comes along with hurting those loved one's of mine.
Sounds absurd right?
Of course it does, that's because it is. There's no-one on earth who would choose this.
And yes there are many exponentially worse things to experience, but having a broken mind is pretty high on the list, of things from our lives we would like to banish.
Lend the principle of charity to those around you, they're probably not totally irrational. So why would they want to feel guilt over silly things like eating some food, or someone else's random bad mood?
There's a reason some people have a particularly hard time with this messy business of life, and everyone's reasons are different variations on the human condition.
So perhaps it's time to just be kind, and resist any assumptions and accusations, it's unlikely to be done for attention, or with any kind of negative intentions.
I wouldn't blame someone for having a headache, so please don't blame people for having an illness in their brain, and don't expect it to just go away.
Please take note though, it's ok to say when it's hard, because living with people with scars, and inconspicuously broken hearts, is a difficult task.
Patience will be needed on both sides; neither of you deserves to carry the whole burden.
Improvement is possible, although it will most likely be slow, so don't feel too discouraged if things worsen.
Relapses are probably going to happen, learn to expect and accept them.
That's doesn't mean you say they're ok, but making a big deal of them is only going to make them more likely to happen.
And remember that we all exist on a spectrum, there's no such thing as completely sane, we can't expect to all be the same.
People with clinical conditions are the same as you, and it shouldn't be taboo, it's just one of those things, like rain at a barbecue, that life throws at us, and we have to make do.
Mental illness as a choice (advice if you're living with someone with a mental illness) part two
You have a choice, as a parent, when your child starts acting in a way that can only be politely described as worrying.
You have a choice between drowning in fear and misunderstanding, which I know is oh so tempting, and understandable, or trying to educate yourself the best you can, given the circumstances.
I urge you to take the latter route, and choose love, and remember that your child doesn't mean to act as they do, or hurt you, or themselves.
It may feel like hell, but it's really no-one's fault, unless of course you're guilty of abuse or assault, which, if you’re taking the time to read this, I doubt.
So, seek help, and know that you deserve the help too, it's something that together you'll have to go through.
Above all, please make the choice to talk to your child, it can make the world of difference to their mental health, and I promise it will help to propel them towards recovery, and yeah it will probably be one of those obnoxious and cliché 'journey's', but sometimes that's what you need.
A conversation and a scream
"What's with the pressure?" Says I.
"What's with your life?" says my mind.
"It's going nowhere, don't you see? You're going to fail irrevocably".
"And so, what if she does?" Cries reason. "She'll still be living".
"But that's no good, she has to be perfect". Obsessiveness unhelpfully chimes in.
"She's far from that, in fact she's a wreck". Low self-esteem begins to whinge.
Reasons voice becomes rather weak "But this is all so silly".
Impatience and the world cry "I wish she'd just get over it already".
"How is she meant to do that? She can't even make any friends". Anxiety complains. "Plus, she hasn't even got a job, she's such a waste of space".
"And I don't think she'll even get out of bed today". Depression adds to the disdain. "What a shame".
Reasons voice can no longer be heard, as frustration starts to scream.
"I can't take it anymore, I just want to be free".
"Well that's not going to happen". Discourages helplessness.
"It's all so worthless".
The voices of negative emotions begin to rise, almost screaming inside the mind of the girl with tired eyes.
The positive emotions, those beautiful, glowing lights of respite, begin to fade into an obscure night.
But determination remains behind, unwilling to give up the fight, and after some tactful arguments, is able to convince hope to help end this nonsense.
"This is ridiculous, look at the trees" Hope decrees. "Every year they lose their leaves, but they don't give in".
"They know it's nature’s way, things have to change. They get better and worse from day to day, but you cannot expect to control the rain". Determination claims.
"And when it's raining, you know what you do? You grab an umbrella and do what you need to".
The voices of sadness, anguish and anxiety, are perplexed by the very notion of coping. It's not in their way, they're just so used to the pain.
But the mind of the girl wants rid of the madness and wants desperately to listen to voice of reason. It tells her to be patient, however hard that seems, for even when the nights at its darkest, it's only ever temporary.
"What's with the pressure?" Says I.
"What's with your life?" says my mind.
"It's going nowhere, don't you see? You're going to fail irrevocably".
"And so, what if she does?" Cries reason. "She'll still be living".
"But that's no good, she has to be perfect". Obsessiveness unhelpfully chimes in.
"She's far from that, in fact she's a wreck". Low self-esteem begins to whinge.
Reasons voice becomes rather weak "But this is all so silly".
Impatience and the world cry "I wish she'd just get over it already".
"How is she meant to do that? She can't even make any friends". Anxiety complains. "Plus, she hasn't even got a job, she's such a waste of space".
"And I don't think she'll even get out of bed today". Depression adds to the disdain. "What a shame".
Reasons voice can no longer be heard, as frustration starts to scream.
"I can't take it anymore, I just want to be free".
"Well that's not going to happen". Discourages helplessness.
"It's all so worthless".
The voices of negative emotions begin to rise, almost screaming inside the mind of the girl with tired eyes.
The positive emotions, those beautiful, glowing lights of respite, begin to fade into an obscure night.
But determination remains behind, unwilling to give up the fight, and after some tactful arguments, is able to convince hope to help end this nonsense.
"This is ridiculous, look at the trees" Hope decrees. "Every year they lose their leaves, but they don't give in".
"They know it's nature’s way, things have to change. They get better and worse from day to day, but you cannot expect to control the rain". Determination claims.
"And when it's raining, you know what you do? You grab an umbrella and do what you need to".
The voices of sadness, anguish and anxiety, are perplexed by the very notion of coping. It's not in their way, they're just so used to the pain.
But the mind of the girl wants rid of the madness and wants desperately to listen to voice of reason. It tells her to be patient, however hard that seems, for even when the nights at its darkest, it's only ever temporary.
Down The Rabbit Hole
Down the rabbit hole, we’ve fallen again.
Gone to meet a good old friend.
Satan is waiting, as they say.
Just waiting for us to crumble and decay.
But we won’t let him get that satisfaction.
For in the face of hell, we shall be strong.
Stronger than the fire burning a hole in our brain.
Stronger than the screaming that lingers but never fades.
We’ll be stronger than those demons, to keep them out of our mind. Strong enough to make it out alive.
There’s no way we can lose to those monsters tonight, not after all this time.
They’ve got another thing coming if they think we can’t stand the heat, when it’s all we’ve ever known.
Guess it’s time to give these worthless liars an unforgettable show.
Down the rabbit hole, we’ve fallen again.
Gone to meet a good old friend.
Satan is waiting, as they say.
Just waiting for us to crumble and decay.
But we won’t let him get that satisfaction.
For in the face of hell, we shall be strong.
Stronger than the fire burning a hole in our brain.
Stronger than the screaming that lingers but never fades.
We’ll be stronger than those demons, to keep them out of our mind. Strong enough to make it out alive.
There’s no way we can lose to those monsters tonight, not after all this time.
They’ve got another thing coming if they think we can’t stand the heat, when it’s all we’ve ever known.
Guess it’s time to give these worthless liars an unforgettable show.
Please Don't
Please don't. There's no need to cry.
Please don't. Don't you dare die.
I have to say, I really think everything you do wrong is alright.
So please don't leave this world in such spite.
And please don't pick up that knife.
Please don't believe the lies in your mind, it's not your friend tonight.
There might be a swirling, terrifying storm outside, and intrenched in the deepest depths of your mind.
But that's alright, you'll be fine.
Yes, it will take time, I won't lie.
But the universe isn't one for rushing, just look at life.
It took billions of years to arise.
And you can survive another night, until yours starts to go right.
Please don't. There's no need to cry.
Please don't. Don't you dare die.
I have to say, I really think everything you do wrong is alright.
So please don't leave this world in such spite.
And please don't pick up that knife.
Please don't believe the lies in your mind, it's not your friend tonight.
There might be a swirling, terrifying storm outside, and intrenched in the deepest depths of your mind.
But that's alright, you'll be fine.
Yes, it will take time, I won't lie.
But the universe isn't one for rushing, just look at life.
It took billions of years to arise.
And you can survive another night, until yours starts to go right.
Creativity
Creativity breathes words of salvation.
Telling us it’s possible to explode into something beautiful, rather than pure destruction.
Creativity clings to a candle in the pitch blackness of our heads.
Telling us that we don’t need to sit in the darkness and implode, we can make something instead.
Bubbling beneath the surface, whispering at ungodly hours of wonderfully strange possibilities.
Creativity can be the voice to silence all of those that tell us we have no abilities.
It’s not about perfection in an absolute sense. It’s about perfection in the sense of making our internal and external worlds make even a fraction more sense than they did before.
It’s about doing more than falling to the floor.
It’s about getting it out. It’s a colorful bout of exploding thoughts.
It’s about letting us express the things we have fought, and what we have fought for.
Sometimes it’s just better than letting our hearts stay sore.
Creativity breathes words of salvation.
Telling us it’s possible to explode into something beautiful, rather than pure destruction.
Creativity clings to a candle in the pitch blackness of our heads.
Telling us that we don’t need to sit in the darkness and implode, we can make something instead.
Bubbling beneath the surface, whispering at ungodly hours of wonderfully strange possibilities.
Creativity can be the voice to silence all of those that tell us we have no abilities.
It’s not about perfection in an absolute sense. It’s about perfection in the sense of making our internal and external worlds make even a fraction more sense than they did before.
It’s about doing more than falling to the floor.
It’s about getting it out. It’s a colorful bout of exploding thoughts.
It’s about letting us express the things we have fought, and what we have fought for.
Sometimes it’s just better than letting our hearts stay sore.
Perfect
Everything was perfect.
I aligned my pens and spent hours organising files.
I agonised over the exact right words to write in my essay, and the right thing to say in a message.
I practiced in the mirror how to get a winning smile.
I deleted that which did not make the cut in my eyes, because it wasn’t exactly what I’d envisaged.
I saw mistakes in everything that came from my hands and from my mouth and from my head.
I could never reach perfection, and began to despair instead.
Perfection eluded my body-image, so that it too was ‘wrong’.
My piano tapping fingers stopped playing songs.
Perfection seemed within my grasp when I lost weight.
Yet it has always eluded me, even when I reached a miniscule state. I had to avoid the plate.
Perfection was never more far off than at this time.
But I sought it regardless of the consequences to my body and mind. I had to be more than just fine.
But eventually I came to realise that perfection is never a true part of life.
It is filled with blunders and mistakes and strife.
It is littered chaotically with beauty and friends.
Splattered haphazardly with melancholy and ends.
There is unperfect perfection in the colours of the sky.
Never neat or perfectly aligned.
My piano tapping fingers hit the wrong notes and made me better remember the right keys.
I saw mistakes made even from those I admired for their abilities.
Perfection is an illusion and that’s just fine.
Life doesn’t have to be perfect to be worthwhile.
Everything was perfect.
I aligned my pens and spent hours organising files.
I agonised over the exact right words to write in my essay, and the right thing to say in a message.
I practiced in the mirror how to get a winning smile.
I deleted that which did not make the cut in my eyes, because it wasn’t exactly what I’d envisaged.
I saw mistakes in everything that came from my hands and from my mouth and from my head.
I could never reach perfection, and began to despair instead.
Perfection eluded my body-image, so that it too was ‘wrong’.
My piano tapping fingers stopped playing songs.
Perfection seemed within my grasp when I lost weight.
Yet it has always eluded me, even when I reached a miniscule state. I had to avoid the plate.
Perfection was never more far off than at this time.
But I sought it regardless of the consequences to my body and mind. I had to be more than just fine.
But eventually I came to realise that perfection is never a true part of life.
It is filled with blunders and mistakes and strife.
It is littered chaotically with beauty and friends.
Splattered haphazardly with melancholy and ends.
There is unperfect perfection in the colours of the sky.
Never neat or perfectly aligned.
My piano tapping fingers hit the wrong notes and made me better remember the right keys.
I saw mistakes made even from those I admired for their abilities.
Perfection is an illusion and that’s just fine.
Life doesn’t have to be perfect to be worthwhile.