Tag Archives: mental health

curious mind of a growing author

Now, I am not in a frame of mind where I want to leave anyone right now – I am not depressed, I am not suicidal today, I am not hinting at any discomforts emotionally at all; yet despite this, today has been a day where poetically, I cannot help but write about relationships ending, leaving a former life etc. and this is just a fluke… or is it? Am I going through some kind of subconscious rebirth? Is this the start of a midlife crisis? I haven’t a clue, but currently I think I am very happy with the people who are in my life.
A lot of my poems are based on my past, particularly my childhood. But the ones I have written today are largely focusing on sexual relationships that are coming to a close, yet I am not in this situation – though I have been once. But the words in the poems would have been different surely? As I never left them, they didn’t leave me for the reasons I wrote about today, so where these poems came from is a mystery to me.
Another thing is I have written two poems today and both of those poems have a particular sentence in common “It’s not that I don’t love you”, now, I have had this said to me on many occasions before, when I was about to be dumped – the excuses that came after were varied.
Sometimes a writer can be in a frame of mind to write about something they have never experienced and usually I have been told that this is wrong – you should always write about what you know in order to sound authentic. So let me know if you think it sounds authentic enough for a person who has never experienced what I wrote about in the two poems I will post later in the week called “It’s not that I don’t love you” and “It’s not that I don’t love you 2”.
Thank you for reading

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Filed under About my work, My life

Iced Podium

 

I’m freezing in the cold damp grey winter morning
The chilled wind wraps around me like an inescapable cocoon
Will I freeze to death soon?
I’ve lost my mind and I still stand
On the cold wet floor of the prairie lands
I can’t move, I can’t talk
All I do is stand or walk
Lost in the frozen land
I’ve lost my mind
For I’ve lost my hand
How heartbreak makes us numb
I stand dying on an iced podium

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Filed under Poems G - I

Tornado Mind

My life is like a tornado

It’s been turned upside down, inside out and it’s spinning round and round

Like my mind, it’s unstable, insecure and unsound

Nothing can quite help it – nothing can calm it down

I’m just whizzing around doing nothing, someone make it stop, and someone hold me down

I skip from this to that, my mind’s just going to rot

I skit from thing to thing and most things I’ve forgot

I dance from one thought to the next; I’m trying to catch my thoughts with broken nets

But get this – I can’t slow it down, most things I’ve forgotten before I can write them down

My thoughts move too fast for me, it’s like they’re scared of me, they flee

And I just sit wondering… what the fuck just happened to me?

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Filed under Poems S - U

Abusers have two faces

People hide behind smiles and generous acts all the time

This is the mask they wear and only the abused knows these tricks

People who’ve never experienced abuse cannot see through the bricks of the walls of the abusers and victims

They never see drowned ones in the slime

Never see their friends and family as swine

But they abuse or are abused all the time

And now here ends my rhyme

Abusers have two faces

Though you’ll always see just one

 

 

 

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Filed under Poems A - C

Life becomes a parody

When madness steps into your life, there is no escape for you

Life becomes a parody of which you are in full in tune

Nobody can understand the way you talk and move

Nobody is sure of your behaviour of which they disapprove

Complacently you play along to their supposed normalities

But whatever you do for others, it still leaves them ill at ease

To which there is no point you see, to become like them at all

For nobody in reality is very sane at all

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Filed under Poems J - L

1922 – Stephen King

Stephen King’s – 1922

A very gory short story about how money can bring about great evil in this world; the story is written with such unusual details for King in my opinion that it is an absolute gem to behold.

The story is about a man who is driven insane by the murder of his wife (he was the murderer) and how she haunted him into his own death.

The story can be found in the anthology called “Full Dark, No Stars”.

It is not the kind of story you want to read if you have a rat phobia. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

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Filed under My inspirations

recent issues

Having second thoughts about taking up NaNoWriMo, I struggle with 250 words a day these days, let alone trying to squeeze in 50,000 in a month – reason?  Migraines, frequent for months now, also I’ve been told that I am showing mild signs of pneumonia which is a worry.  I’ve been ill for weeks now and I am getting progressively worse, been practically bed-bound though for two days, thankfully I have a new laptop so I can do things when I can semi-think.

My main concern is I am unsure how the job center will react to the fact I haven’t gone to the voluntary placement interview yet, particularly as it was supposed to be for the next day and they saw me happy and healthy, but I woke up really bad and it’s not left me for almost 3 weeks now.  I am worried; I wanted to do the voluntary work too as it focuses on a charity I never heard of before but on a subject close to my heart (mental illness and mental learning difficulties and brain injuries) – hope this won’t turn against me?

I am so used to London benefit offices that I worry about every visit.  Unfortunately my husband is unemployed since the National Wildlife Trust could no longer afford him and made him redundant, this is unfortunate because I’ve always had health problems which have made problems with me keeping a job down (auto-immune problems, operations, and rheumatoid arthritis, vertigo and anemia problems as well as panic attacks), needless to say as soon as he became unemployed we had no choice but to go on benefits and they wouldn’t allow him to go on it and support the family I have to go for the interviews too.  Unfortunately even voluntary placements get funny if you have too much time off (even if you’re known to be sick), so I don’t have much of a life as far as social commitments go.

On the positive note my husband is doing home-based voluntary work for seismologists, if at the end of a 9 month period they feel he knows what he is doing he could get employed by them – hopefully the job center will be considerate about this, meanwhile he is trying hard to find work in other places but being aged 57 he is struggling to find anyone who’ll take him seriously, despite his educational and employment history being, Naval engineer, art tutor, customer services, photographer, and having an ecological degree with engineering.

I think my health problems are one of the main contributors to why I am afraid of being published, I cannot commit to anything because of it and really will publishers sympathize with a sick/disabled writer, even if they seem extremely good at what they’re doing?  I doubt it, but I hope I am proven wrong in time.

 

 

 

 

 

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Filed under My life

arranged to meet my dreams today

My dreams and I have arranged a meet

But it didn’t happen today

For I knew they were there as they were calling to me

I was by the spinney and they were far from me

By the canal they say, that’s where we are today

Where there’s a little moon and a liner

I couldn’t get there as there’s a block at the quarry

To walk there I’d have to walk two miles around

I believe they’re a dream, so I didn’t act like a clown

I did ask if they’d come to my little place, but they didn’t answer, I feel disgraced

For thirty minutes I walked up and down, past the same old trees

Sending messages from my brain, to my dreams… silly me

Collecting acorns with my son, I am chasing dreams am I dumb?

They said they’d convince me that they were real; I only wished they would, but they haven’t come still

I will go home, give lunch to my boy , I’ll try another day perhaps – maybe then I’ll get some joy?

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Filed under Poems A - C

perhaps I’m schizo?

My mind is going around the bend

Will it ever stop, will this ever mend?

I know I’m different to those out there

Those humans who live life daily without care

I am a special sort of folk, those out there would say bespoke

But I am more than just a novelty as you will surely see

I am a different kind of fish, from within a different sea

My mind isn’t structured in the way that you would like

My psychology is different to yours that is apelike

I am not a human, I’m pretty sure of that

For I wander endlessly about different kinds of facts

Am I more than human?  Will I surely know?

I have yet to find the truth, perhaps I am schizo?

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Filed under Poems P - R

rubble in my mind

There is rubble in my mind

Broken fragments of confidence that once was

Smashed bricks laying around my mind like a relic of past self-esteem

Amongst the rubble is a lost person

Where she is, nobody knows and they probably won’t find her again

Even if these relics mend, she would be different, I would be different

I’d be a stranger to past friends

Hopefully she won’t be found again, the me that’s lost

As I’ve learned a lot since I was broken down

I’ve learned not to hide my inner frown

I no longer say OK, Yes if you like, I instead have learned not to bite

I now say no, I correct others, without fear of being shunned

Without being ridiculed and abashed for being scum

I now speak my mind, I won’t change that

It did me no good years ago and that’s a fact

To keep quiet

That’s not good, it keeps you very misunderstood, trodden on, under the thumb

People think that you’re dumb when you say yes all the time or agree a lot

It’s best to say what you truly want

Living in fear of other people’s reaction will attract more people like those you hate, it’s a cosmic attraction

So you may as well be, as you like

Whether you speak your mind or not, there’s always a fight

Whose side are you on?  Your enemies or your own?

You’d better choose yourself, or you’ll always be alone

Yes my mind is broken, but it’s on it’s way to repair

Though I’ve shed so many tears and lived life in despair

Though I’m mocked most thoroughly by those who think they know

The truth as they see it, but they don’t truly know

I mock those idiots who are blind to see, the life I had to live

For I know the truth quite well and I did try to give

But people only want to see what they want to see

Whether another has told them otherwise, it makes them feel safe and brassy

But if they want to close the door to the truth that I have known, then forgive me as I close the door to those who had thrown the stones

I cannot live a lie anymore, I will speak the truth

But if you cannot bear it, then I’ll do so via sleuth

Yes my mind is broken, but the old me I’ve outgrown

A better stronger queen will emerge, for I have found my throne

So walk on by fake family, those who tried their best, to take me from my kindred and make my mind a mess

For I am not needful now, nor will I ever be

For I have found the people, who will set me free!

 

 

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Filed under Poems P - R