Blog Archives

Last night I called Samaratins

I’ve always been skeptical about accessing services such as Samaratins however since I’ve been actively trying to help myself become mentally well again, I reached out via email to find uot more about Samaratins.org and what services they can offer me – I thought I had to be suicidal to get in touch with them. 

I’m currently building up a post crisis plan and contingency plan with the Mental health team – my psychiatrist, my Psychiatrist community nurse and support worker and other services in my community to get back on track. I thought I would share my experience on my website  blog.  This is how it went.

I emailed Jo ( all volunteers are trained and called Jo) to ask for further information. Jo got back to me to ask me for a bit more background and gave me a link to the samaratins.org website.This is what I had to say. 

Hi Daisy
It sounds like you and your CPN are doing great work together.
Samaritans is a 24/7 listening service. We are currently available on the phone, email and by letter. Can I suggest for a more detailed definition of our service you visit our website www.samaritans.org.

Is there anything you would like to talk about tonight, is there anything worrying you or is there something you would like to share with us about how you are feeling?

Hi Jo

Erm… well, I have been a long time service user with lengthy inpatient and outpatient stays in the hospital for bipolar, EUPD and chronic anorexia.
I tend to go in a cycle with how I escape from my thoughts and emotions instead of regulating them.


I’m in that place where I’m highly
Motivated to get to the place I was in from 2013- 2017
I achieved more in those few years than in my entire lifetime,
Apart from my career in travel.
I have a lot I want to do with my life and pass on what I’ve found out to help others.


I’ve volunteered my heart out up until 2016 because I was studying my BA at the time. I fought social services, my family and my 9-year-old daughter’s paternal father in court for 16 months. On the 05 may 2015 I addressed the judge myself and she was and is discharged into my care with full parental responsibility & she is a phenomenal child. I can’t believe she is my child.


I was never going to get married nor have children until I hit my 30′ s. Both just seemed ” to happen”. Many traumas and bad relationships, abortion and boom! By the age of 36 married and one 6-year-old.

My eating disorder has always been a big problem for me.. I’ve been starving myself or self-medicating for most of my life.

In 2017 my body nor my mind could take on everything I set out to do. I was volunteering 5 days a week 9- 5 pm. I was asked to do my WRAP co-facilitator course to do workshops; I had completed the first year of my MA 60 credits and a post-graduate in the humanities with high merit. I had been married for a year. My gran died a horrible, drawn-out death over 3 days in March 2017. I had to decide to take my aunt off life support because my Mom didn’t know what to do. My aunt died in our arms( at hospital snowed under morphine a few months later). I had to support my mom who is ill at times and be “there” for her.


My weight was getting low and it gave me a huge buzz. It’s the best high ever. No drug compares in my opinion to feel my bones protrude or the scales getting lower or that power I feel.


Unfortunately, I started self-medicating with illicit substances and I ended up doing one of my worst suicide attempts in March 2018. I insisted on carrying on with the final year of my MA. I had split up with my husband ( we are back together), My daughter was more or less living at my mom’s place more than she was in her own home. Most of the time I didn’t want her to see me out of my head, or out of control.


I was a single mom & My mom reported me to social services in 2018 within two weeks and then went to Miami for 5 weeks for a break! I received my lowest mark to date and I decided to end it. My mom had a hunch because that night I didn’t want my daughter at home with me.


Anyway, 9 hours in ICU and my Mom ( who was once part of my daughter’s care support package that I discovered and used as to persuade the judge I could look after my daughter with the help I had my daughter to look after and I carried on self-medicating and I had to go through a core assessment with a social worker’s (alone this time and I reached out my child’s school for support stop my child from being thrown into a highly flawed social care system. Twice in that year. Mom rang them again when my daughter was at her home.

I made an appointment with the doctor and I walked to the surgery. My mom was complaining about taxi fare etc.. I was hyper however the doctor ” made” my mom ring social services again. Back to 2018

My psychiatrist said I was in psychosis and I think the only reason he didn’t section me is that… I don’t know. He has known me for 15 years! I had my child to look after… I’m still not sure why he didn’t section. I think my then C.P.N. stuck up for me and I was put onto fortnightly injections to show compliance. The side effects were terrible. My mom took me to the hospital to take another medication to counteract the side effects before leaving to go abroad.
It was a rough couple of years from March up until 2019.
I was self-medicating daily I’ve (never been on heroin, or crack or ketamine.
I was in toxic relationships.
I didn’t care about my weight then. My nose was falling apart and I was losing my daughter to my mom at a fast rate.
I still wasn’t dead!

I took a really big overdose in Feb 2020. My former care co-coordinator didn’t think my cries for help were serious. My friend kept me awake on the phone. He wanted to call the ambulance. I begged him not to because of my daughter.


I got back with my husband in early 2019.
We had to get an injunction on a guy I allowed into my life. We weren’t good for one another. I seem to attract men who need me for finances or something…
I need them to be assholes to me to make sure that I can never trust my husband. The one man who has never disrespected me in 9 years and I’ve done a lot of shitty things to him
In May 2020 I had had enough.

I had been studying suicide manuals I found on the internet and decided to follow the overdose step by step guide. I ended up in a coma for 5 days and wired to tubes for a further 5 days in ICU.

For 2 months I was on a high. I was self-medicating on my Eating Disorder again. My mom and I have always clashed I was living with her trying to get away from a home with bad energy.
It didn’t work out with my mom and my daughter and my cat and my husband living at our current home. She threw me out in front of my daughter and as an excuse, I don’t know
I became stuck in my old habits. It was that or my eating disorder. My choice. My mom threatened to take me to court over my daughter numerous times for my drug use. I lost a lot of time with her my daughter.
I lost confidence in my mom Abilities again.

I was spending crazy amounts and stopped caring again. I have reached out to every service in my area and say I’m too complicated. My issues are too ” complex”.
I asked for a new care coordinator ( June 2020) and she saw me in crisis mode for 2 months. In Sept 2020
I put on 1 kilo ( in my head or physically. I was self-medicating so I had stopped bothering about scales.
That day I did something I haven’t done since I wad 17 years old.
I’m 39 in November. I stabbed my right-hand breast repeatedly and my inner thighs. Then bought 2 scales.
I then tried to jump off a well-known bridge for suicide attempts the same night.
My psychiatrist sent two psychiatrists to assess me to under the mental health act section 2 1981. .I think.
Earlier that day,
I walked out of his office screaming at my psychiatrist to discharge me from the enhanced team for people with severe Mental health input.
What was the point in taking prescribed tablets alone when I have been knocking on every door for DBT and therapy?


I spoke frankly with the assessment team and I wasn’t detained
I had a massive blow out 6weeks ago..


My mom had taken my girl away 1 day after we had discussed a plan and strategy and the boundaries and goalposts were moved according to my mom’s mood and demands. I decided f *** it. I was in a bad way and then I fought my mom for my daughter. I got her CPN involved, school. I told her secrets to my family. I betrayed her because I wanted my baby girl back.


She’s been home with me for just over 2 weeks &our bond is good. She is back into a good routine. I’m loving our bond, her age, her interests and her love.
I’ve thrown me into various therapy apps to get better, recovery apps, happy apps, registered to do volunteering again. I’m writing on my website again.


I’ve added a music blog to my website -it focuses on music artists I find and interview them on their career, creativity and thoughts on Mental health and their own experiences. My next feature is ready to publish by early Nov.
I’ve signed up to do loads of volunteering skill courses – peers mentoring etc…
I’m redoing my WRAP (Wellness Recovery Action Plan
Learning DBT on my own.
. I haven’t used illicit substances for 8 weeks and I am higher than I have ever felt.
I’m starving myself again. I don’t like it, hunger, the dedication it takes. I do like the highs and my BMI is down to 17.1. I was living at a 19 – 20 BMI from 2018 until now…
. I’m happy because I’m investing my time in my family and buying us things. It feels good.

I’m mindful of how much I drink because of calories and I can’t drink like I did when I was using. I become ill. I have a protein shake usually 2times a day.
. A few microwaved mushrooms, cucumber( not microwaved) and microwaved onions. And celery and herbal tea to snack on.
I’m very active. I love to keep busy.
Mentally and psychically.

That’s a bit about me.
I don’t know what else to say.
I’ve managed to find a charity who let me have 10 zoom conference counselling sessions for survivors of rape, trauma and sexual abuse. My last session ends next Tues I have rescheduled 3 times!
I don’t feel suicidal and haven’t in 3 weeks.

I don’t have time to ruminate or think about self-medicating in an illegal way. People don’t leave me alone for too long and at this point, I don’t feel suicidal. I feel insanely high on my Eating disorder I’m on a high because I am making positive changes & I have had to cut out my family to be the mother that she deserves and I deserve to be.

Best Wishes
Daisy

I received a lengthy reply with positive feedback  back at 3 a.m. this morning.  It was an email that served as a soundboard to affirm what has happened and what I am doing with my life. I found it a positive experience I would urge people to use this service even if  they don’t feel suicidal . 

A special girl

I know a special girl whose heart is full of sunshine .

She dances her way around the world to deliver her own special punchline

She laughs so distinctly that people cannot help but become infected

It is a sight to behold when this observation is detected She is gracious and kind and is delicately inclined the phrase ‘she is an angel’ are the only words that come to mind .

Her name means beautiful-that of body, mind and soul and to have her touch so many lives confirms her title role.

She is my modern day princess -so noble and full of grace I love her with all my being and she is a person that I cannot replace

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, my sweet child. You are the true gift I found it in your innocent eyes and that was the day my world truly began to shift.

The order of the black Dog

My family.

Here we all are, sitting around the circular dining room table- flecked with bits of gold.

Ma sits under a hanging portrait of this Christmas just gone. Three weeks ago. We are all smiling in it including Poppy. Poppy sits playing with her Annabelle doll, on my husband’s lap. Sat opposite from Ma, closest to the electric fire hearth is Gran.

I find myself sitting across from Gran. An iciness breathes mist over us. It separates me from them, cloaks me in a fog.

I try to swallow. The air is so thick it chokes me, I’m forced to put my hands to my throat. Nobody notices me. Nobody notices me the way they used to. I tune into the conversation-taking place.

‘Of course I’m not suggesting this is your fault. I should have known. Done more…’ Nan bursts into tears.

A cry out for:

I need attention I’m suffering the most.

My skin bristles. Nan pulls her scarf tighter around her neck, and then throws out a familiar comment about it being draughty.

‘You know I could catch pneumonia with my Asthma.’ She coughs. Ma gets up to put on the electric fire.

‘I didn’t take her seriously. You know what Angie was like?’

Ma’s eyes are red as the rosary beads she is thumbing; she looks over to an unusually quiet Poppy.

‘Did she just do it to spite me?’ How could she just leave her own…?’

My husband throws a warning look at Ma,

‘Marie, for Poppies sake. Our Angie suffered more than she let on.’ Ma sits back down. ‘Let’s put on a cartoon, luv?’

Poppy shakes her head.

She doesn’t look at us.

I look straight at her, willing her to leave this table. Leave this conversation. She lifts her head and looks me dead on in the eyes. I instinctively smile. Eddie and me always stood together when it came to Poppy.

Her face is pale, her eyes sunken, her skin is drawn in so tight I can see cheek bones protrude. Beneath her eyes veiled shadows betray her youthful face.

She clings onto Annabelle, still looking me dead on in the eyes.

‘When’s Mummy coming home?’

Silence. Her words enmesh with the silence. Her question disarms me. Marks me. The arrow leaves its bow splintering my heart.

I open my mouth to scream out as many words as I can. Condensation steams the air distilling me into silence. I reach my hand across the table to grab hers.

She doesn’t see me. I glare at my family sitting at the round table. They say nothing. Smothering themselves in sorrow, they witheringly curl inwards. I urge to shake them, uproot them from winters glaze.

-Answer her. Answer my daughter!

Instead, Gran succumbs to a puddle of wrinkled tears, mechanically Ma gets off her chair, attempts to console Gran and naturally it’s up to Eddie to mediate.

My calm, rational Eddie. His eyes read as vacant –his beard is wild and unkempt. It’s impossible to read his face.

He clears his throat,

‘We’re gonna see Mummy when we give her… say a proper goodbye.’

Gran flounders in her anglers net of remorse. Great splotchy splashes of grief escape. She wails,

‘She’s with the angels –looking down at you, darling!’

I roll my eyes. Of course I love her! Lately, she grates my skin more frequently with her, melodramatics.

– Confess how you truly feel. Relieved!

I’m so fixated on evoking a response from Gran; unnoticed, a light flickers with an intensity to match my own. Eddie carries Poppy over to the sofa, sits her down to watch a cartoon. He covers her with a blanket then kisses her forehead.

‘We’ll see mummy soon? To say goodbye?’

Eddie nods his head, his voice cracks.

‘Aye, love.’

‘When will mummy come back from saying goodbye? In spring? My teacher says it’s winter – everything goes to sleep like her?’ Poppy points to ‘Sleeping Beauty’ on the television.

Eddie focuses on the image. The Prince is just about to kiss Aurora on the lips. He turns his head away from the television before he can see Aurora wake up to her true loves kiss. He grinds down on his teeth. Poppy’s eyes remain transfixed on the television. Eddie gets up, crosses the dining room table; I’m compelled to follow him, I have to stop him. Tell him I’m still here. I haven’t gone anywhere. I’ve so much to tell him.

-There is no God! We were right all along. Religion is for people who can’t think for themselves. We were right to take the piss.

Eddie flinches, puts his hands in his jean pockets. I follow him down Ma’s hallway and into the bathroom. He closes the door on me. It doesn’t ever close fully. I slip through the crack of the door that is always ajar.

Head down. Still. He sits on the toilet seat. I kneel down before him; go to lay my head on his knee. He flinches again. Hits himself in the head. Bangs his fist on the wall screams out:

‘Why? We could’ve figured it out, you fucking stubborn mare’ I bring out the best and worst in Eddie. Till death do us part. What are the chances?

He still refuses to let me go. Stubborn.

My symptoms intensify in the days leading up to the funeral. Everything‘s heightened especially emotions that seemingly walk precariously on stilts. I can’t walk through walls or levitate. Nothing like any of the horrors Eddie and me used to watch together, on the sofa.

Unheard, I bellow continuously,

-Just let me go!

Every time I hear my name called reflections of nostalgia flash and beam over and around me. Prompted, I gravitate towards the source. Someone needs me. These past three weeks, I’ve been teleported from one conversation to another. I find myself in a room; familiar or not familiar, with people I know and people I don’t know.

Today I’m summoned to the usual bickering between Ma and Gran. The familiar sound of Gran’s kettle boils in the background.

‘I want that picture of her on her graduation day and flowers- blown up .With azaleas. And roses – she loved roses- pink.’

‘She hates that picture! And she loves- loved yellow roses…’ Ma’s wobbly voice mirrors her jelly struck legs propping her up in her work shoes. She staggers backwards. Like the black dog with a bone, Gran won’t give in,

‘No, she’s my eldest grand daughter and I know her – it is… was pink!’

Ma sits down, doesn’t speak. I go over to her to put my arms around her then she dissolves into tears. Gran bulldozes her way over to us. Intimidated, I move out of her way. Gran holds Ma and Ma lets Gran hug her. Ma calms down, mentions something about pink and yellow roses

Vexed, I shriek

– don’t back down Ma, I love yellow. Yellow roses. The kettle whistles for attention. My voice is lost to an object.

‘I’ll go make that cup of tea’ Nan retreats to her kitchen.

Another opportunity to get close to Ma again. I need to hug her, give her some of my energy. As if on cue, Mum’s tear-stained face crumples just like my heart. A poking hot iron burns a hole right through it. Gran re-enters the room I scarper.

‘Here you go, love. Lost three of my own …, as you know, mind, they never got to Angie’s age. Yellow’s more of a quirky colour like our Angie… was.’ They smile at each other. I move back, the distance seems to illuminate their smiles.

Tonight, I beg for there to be a heaven. This has to be hell. The familiar, incongruous, gravitational pull lures me out of my cavernous abyss. I blink my eyes several times to focus: orientate myself. Hung up around the wall are vintage Disney posters. My eyes settle on Poppies bed. Eddie bends over Poppy and kisses her goodnight,

‘Mummy loves you just as much as I do.’ He tucks her in.

He switches off the light before walking out. I stand and watch my worn out daughter in her bed. She sings herself to sleep just as she does every night. She sings our song: twinkle twinkle little star. With each inflection of her sweet singing voice, the words serve as a needle. Each word stipulates smelting hot ink into my flesh. My neck is ablaze. Before closing her eyes, she whispers,

‘I love you mummy.’

When I reply, scorching chains wrap and lasso me around my neck. My skin swells up in blisters. The familiar sound of her breathing evaporates the pain. I need to be close to her, I need to smell her, kiss her. Carelessly, I run over to her bed to touch her sleeping head. Startled I lunge backward as Poppy instantly wakes up screaming.

– I’m powerless

. Eddie barges into the room, throws on the light and takes Poppy into his arms. I watch her body stiffen; then relax. I watch him settle my daughter back to sleep. My hands ball into tight fists.

-She must know I’m here.

Before I can touch her face, she wakes up screaming like – like she has seen a- ghost.

-I’m that Ghost! I put my hands to my mouth in horror.

Envy bubbles inside me as I witness Eddie consoling Poppy again. I’m half hoping he won’t succeed.

What kind of a mother am I?

I’ve been telling everyone to let me go.

Where will I go?

I can’t drive, no one can see me. There are no other lost souls wondering about telling me to join the dead community!

I won’t give up on my daughter. She needs me. I have to be here.

The stroke of our clock announces its time; a primitive realisation slithers down my very core. Nausea spirals up into my throat. I run into our bathroom, heave over the toilet, nothing comes out. I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror; I see vicious V-shaped welts where the noose of the rope has cut into my neck. This is what Eddie came home to.

The cloying black dog of depression haunted me. Its delivered dose of pain was exquisite- nothing took it away. Not drinking, overdosing, drugging myself, talking-nothing. Eventually, I told it to sit down. I told Eddie repeatedly,

– I just want to disappear.

– How can I help you? His eyes pleaded for an answer. I would always lash out,

-Unless you help me disappear, you can’t!

I remained imprisoned in our bed and he would go back to work and look after Poppy and the house. He could walk away from me. I couldn’t. I resent him for that. I can see myself now, googling the various ways people commit suicide. One article struck my eye ‘Men are more successful at committing suicide’.

-They don’t mess about with poisoning themselves –they resort to more violent means.

That is the moment I reached out to the wrong Alpha.

The black dog and I began sleeping together. It became my obsession. Up-close, I could analyse it, experiment with it. As a couple, it didn’t take much to find that Alpha rage. One phone call from Ma,

-Just snap out of it. If you’re going to do it, get on with it.

-Fine, I will! I hung up on her before she could hang up on me.

My impulsiveness finds me trapped within this mirror. It’s cold. Everything I read is back to front. Everything I do is back to front. It doesn’t reflect my true intentions. When I reach out, in fact, the more I reach out the more pain I inflict. I back away from the mirror until I’m pressed up, with my back against the bathroom wall.

What have I done?

What right do I have trying to tell my family how to deal with their loss?

Eddie will never know that I was messing about; I didn’t know if I could actually go through with it. From a great height in a corner of the bathroom my body feels cut loose from itself. I can see it happen in front of my eyes. Like a rerun episode, I can’t pause. The noose around my neck, in the shower. Steam shrouds the mirror, with slippery feet, I accidently knock myself off that chair and in that moment I realise,

– I don’t want to die.

I can’t scream and tell anyone. I made the decision when I decided to sleep with my enemy. I’ve interrupted the natural course of life. A lost soul in life: a lost soul in death. There are no bright lights to come with this epiphany. I exit the bathroom, stumble down the staircase, out the front door, and walk aimlessly down the street. I sense a familiar pair of eyes examining me; I look up and see the black dog in its true form. It waits for me to catch up. We walk side by side. I don’t look back. I am the one preventing people from moving on. I have to let go.

*TMA Submition for Open University- Year one MA -Creative writing- fiction genre

untitled

Inundated with love & affection

 still chose to perforate all scar tissue encore

Lover left

without money

Again

midnight  summons a portion  of  scruples to perform

to

 a bowl of shredded paper cut of the imminent dawn.

 

Now, I thought

Now,

I thought

I’d tell my husband that I was going to walk out into that  main road

Wait

for a car to run me over.

I’m sure he would have expressed concern and said I should have invested in an organ donor

Card!

That he is with his wry sense of humour.

 Now, I thought, we’re  on the train & nothing feels real

Except maybe his hand on my knee reassures all I  need to feel.

The sun’s out & sparring with my panic attacks & phobia

I have to leave ya for a better time.

We’ll have time to play this theme out over & over.

Just for now I’m feeling fresh

Air

Not like I’m drowning in a cashmere claustrophobic coma.

Write to recover. Write yourself out of a panic attack. BUY a book. Look both ways before crossing the road so you don’t get mistaken for  Avante Garde road kill.

My mother called me a Narcissist​

(Reading the book-  ‘poems for a world gone to shit’
Here’s one I wrote of to add to poems for a world gone to shit. A post-suicide poem I wrote in 2018. For the record, my mother didn’t call me this. She called me worse. I’m seriously joking now.

My mother called me a narcissist
I delayed in ringing an exorcist.


Eve didn’t want to admit she was too affronted by the orange county housewife
I’ d laugh if it weren’t for the affray
the truth is I’m a direct line of my self sabotagist.

My mother called me a narcissist cos I  tried to kill myself
She didn’t find it funny when I told her to go along with it.


She didn’t get it.


I take up my place as a dyed goat dressed in sheep wool.
I wonder if I can make it.
I forget
language-

so I bleat in Beast instead of weeping my tears of rage & regret. 

Thorn between two roses

In the twilight of that mind,

Turntables blast out despair

 Unable to fathom out her own kind.

Two open-ended books splay their outward innards.

Hesitant to accept the possibility of another perspective.

Suppose there is alien life out there…

That we can conceive of.

An outcome for her resolve to never give in to her woes?

Roses feel pain when cut down by brutal shears.

Where are the moderators in this game of Divine consequences?

Have they too been bribed to ostracise the rest?

Recalled

A product rebranded a Rose.

Children toy with her parts, cut her hair, drown her until her lungs, over-bloated

Spew out flotsam froth.

A final rattle forming a bubble of foam.

Youth is fleeting

as a pirate’s final orgasm freeing his seamen to rest.

This flight became her ghost – it tormented her in a walking state of slumber.

When Rose was of a venerable age she sat upon her own Fate.

Ignorant to all counsel,

She lacked common sense for a daredevil debate.

‘Mere islands’, she would bluster.

An ancient mariner couldn’t deny that she was born to a concubine.

Made from unusual voodoo cut cloth.

She mixed rarely with other groups

Outside of Fear

For impending wrath.

Her weeping congealed by third-degree burns.

Shuffling her feet- rarely led to any sudden about upturn.

What prompted Rose to behave in such a manner?

Emotional intelligence IQ lower than an abyss in Alabama?

Regret staggers not long after

Rose’s final walk down the marching plank.

Swords of sleeted ice pierce into her back.

She ignores all those gallant enough to help her find her to her new abode.

She has the the secret code to,the Outlaw, of the conquered seas.

Why put the world on pause when time is has its own entity?

Reality is indendant of thought.

Passionate.

Highly astute.

She thrashes about with the sense of an insecure perception of identity.

The FATAL FLAW for love on the grandest vessel

She sunk to her final resting place –

the bottom of the plastic strewn, infested seabed.

The day she allowed this rogue to assault her

Though she did plea;

Her screams were ignored-complicit to acquiesce.

Love is partly veiled.

One can’t see through the composition of the waves.

She casts one final look around,

She sees the world in all its chaos- divided into self destruct.

We don’t have love!

How can we summon humanity?

It’s merely a spectacle!

A damning show.

She turns around and winks at the one who took her to his chambers.

She smiles;

wonders if this Outlaw knew that he was taking her soul’s ability to speak.

There is no ending to pain.

Only true bedlam can express her reality.

She is the thorn.

She is the rose.

-the one frozen in hell with her never-ending guilt.

Cloud with clout

And in my darkest hours, when the air extingushes all light. Hopelessness hangs heavy, spongy and dense.

Above me it hovers, a cloud with a fierce clout. I scramble searching to strike my last match.

Unable to see what is right in front on me.I hear the mirthful tinkle of a giggling child. A purr from a serene feline.

And my senses are distracted yet aroused.

I remember to always look up.

The rain still pelts down furiously. The wind whips me with absolute vehemence.

I see the silver lining…. And my soul is renewed with inner joy once again.

* musings from a picture prompt *

ACT OF SUICIDE June 2020

OUT OF LIVES

The final demise

Can’t even

Summon up the courage to put my coat on

I know I would get in a dither over which one to wear.

I’d grab my converses

to growl at my fear –

dare it get in the way.

10 minutes

walk

to north bridge

Figure out the best place to land

deliberate if the fall will cause fatality.

II don’t want to strive to take attpents on my life

No dutch courage to tip me over

but a load of bentos

thadon’t know how to make me fall over

anymore

Alone,

Alone

alone

here with my phone

No one to call

Knocked down all ten pins

I win all the games.

I’m thrown out

N one believes I can never miss when ti comes th the kock down

Hey Mr holiday

YOu forgot your flip flops

Finally found the right size –

ah right then I’ll see you in the wind

Blood

dried

scrape

my inner thighs

Damb. I made it die

Life

everything that was

is no more

The battle of the bulge

White flag dido voice lasted four days

The demand to keep the enemy numbers down erupted in wrong strategy

Leaders often cry alone in the dark

or they contuse to rise to power

it’s all a demise

a loss of self, the truth

a departure from humanity

I think I’m nearly there

Oh lord

Fragile

I used run my own show and now Biggest low blow

The phone is live – fuse short

It feels dysfunctionality

Why do I leave as my legacy

Sorry bee -Im a travesty

Dman.

Not one penny left to see

My wedding ring is finite

Born into a shape resembling a homeless shadow

seeking a bright light

The fear

the bug flows have got me

Jah, Can have little of that grounded vibe.

I’m noting but a numvber

Take the [pills

and jump \

If I rise as I wake may I pull the life saver with me to my final; resting place

The fat is kneeding

holding me

I’m not proud to know the self I feel crumble

I’m sane by dealers who see the signs

one direction – this bitch aint benign

So alone -I can’t move – I have no hope to look after me

my daughter, my world

So goodby – bet you all happy to see the last of me.

self destructive perfectionist

Bear change to mind

Get the facts -don’t bunker down with myths set in era’s

assonated with mercury outlined by hate.

The insane are violent. They murder our children.

They should be put away in a state of silence.

Media hype sensationalise stories to feed your imagination – they profit from.

Ill people who usually die by their own hands – strangulation or when man makes fire.

The insane are weak and lack willpower to get on with life – they scrounge the benefits system.

Watch reality tv and wed misery -cutting the wedding with a carving knife.

It takes strength and courage to live with our selves and pretend all is alright – People need to be signposted to treatment -to gain insight.

The insane must be institutionalised – criminalised for they cannot get better.

In bygone eras physical impairment and oddities were social pariahs to socialite invitees letters.

Insane people and I have nothing in common.

Please, take your insults away from my blissful ignorance

Our circumstances can change in a heartbeat. Worlds have been turned inside out to all humans including your current Destiny upcoming deliverance

Anxiety

Bipolar disorder

Post traumatic disroder

eating disorder

Borderline personality disorder

Depression

Substance abuse

obsessive compulsive disorder

family

Suicide

attempts to get it right

a perfectionists manual in self destruction.