I dug out a zine I made when I was in hospital in March 2019. I made it using some articles and stuff I had already printed, plus newspapers and brochures from the hospital, which I think was pretty creative. I cut them secretly on the floor of my room behind my bed with the nail scissors I had smuggled in, something which the hospital usually confiscates so you can’t hurt yourself with them. The doctor thought I was psychotic, but I don’t agree. I think in many ways I had a sharper view of reality. I was deeply troubled by the state of the world. I felt persecuted and violated by the world. I was obviously very depressed, but I also had a hell of a lot of creative energy and ideas which makes me think I was a bit manic at the time too. I believe they call it a “mixed episode”. It’s been a long time since I’ve made anything. I closed my Etsy shop as I didn’t care about my zines anymore. I was too depressed to print and post them, but today I feel a little brighter and I think I might re-open my shop again. The zines and memoirs I’ve written over the years are really good, if I’m allowed to say so myself. I might start with some electronic copies, which are much easier to deliver than print copies. I thought I’d share some of the pages of the zine I made in hospital in the midst of my madness. It is raw and messy but it is a glimpse into my mind. I hope it might be somewhat relatable and of comfort to someone out there. I’m sorry the pictures won’t enlarge, but I think you can get a closer look at them by pressing ctrl and + . Continue reading “Down the rabbit hole”
I went for a walk with my dad last night and on the way back a possum ran in front of the car. It was badly injured. My dad and I were both shaken by the incident. I managed to get the possum in a blanket, put it in a box and we took it to a vet. But sadly the vet said it will most likely have to be euthanised. Continue reading “Eating disorders and the war between self-harm and self-care”
I dream about you again. I am a teenager and you gently stroke my hair back before leaving. You don’t care that it’s oily and unkept. You continue to love me even at my worst.
I am usually indifferent to touch. It means nothing to me. But when you touch me I feel emotion. I feel safety. I feel love. This is what touch is meant to feel like.
Please, don’t leave me in this world which assaults me, in one form or another, every day. Don’t tease me with love, don’t dangle in front of me something I can never have. I wish I died in my sleep last night with you by my side. I wish I never woke up. Dreaming is my escape from my monochrome life. I only wish I could bottle my dreams, take them back with me when I wake up, and re-experience them like watching a favourite DVD again and again.
I was born with a soul that is way too sensitive for this cold, noisy and ugly world. I have always felt things deeply and differently than most people. I want to go home, to my true spiritual home. It is not here. I have suffered most of my life and I am tired. This is why I tried to kill myself Saturday evening. The dog next door wouldn’t stop barking and I felt like there was no escape. I was tired of suffering. Continue reading “Negligent mental health system”
I lie on my hospital bed with earplugs in my ears to soften the announcements that blast from the overly loud speaker in the ceiling. They are codes, mostly Code “Grey”. I feel a surge of envy every time a code is announced. Not, of course, for the distress and suffering of the person involved. What I envy is that their pain is visible and now they will be receiving all this attention. If there was one thing I miss about my time on marijuana was the way it lifted a lid in me and everything that I really felt came gushing out like a burst water main. That night, two people saw the real me. Continue reading “Fine on the outside”
TRIGGER WARNING: This post may be very triggering for anyone who’s experienced sexual abuse
“When everything feels like the movies
Yeah you bleed just to know you’re alive.” Iris, Goo Goo Dolls
I have a serpent who lives under the bed.
His name is Tinnitus, or so it’s said.
At night when it’s quiet he hisses in my ear,
He makes me feel so very queer.
He robs the silence I once enjoyed.
Now I am just so very annoyed.
I cannot sleep, I want to scream,
My sanity is bursting at the seam
For I want to die and I await in fear
Of the sound of the serpent no body else can hear.
I’m a ticking time bomb. This, I have felt for a very long time. These past few weeks things have become too much. I don’t know if it’s because I cut my medication, because my psychologist is taking leave, because of my mum’s cancer scare, or simply because I’m growing tired treading water, but I am not ok. Continue reading “Not coping”
When I was in school I painted an eagle for a friend. He reminded me of an eagle as he had a real gift of sight. He was able to notice the tiniest details, and see into people. He told me something big brewed in me and he wasn’t sure if it was good or bad. I now realise it is both. My life has felt like one downward spiral. I have truly known the darkest nights of the soul. I have spent my entire 20s wanting to die. But they say the trees that are slowest to grow bear the most fruit. I feel like something is brewing in me, like a butterfly in a cocoon. At times it’s felt bad, like I’m about to go crazy, like I’m about to scream, walk in front of traffic, or my suicide fantasy is about to turn into reality. But today such an amazing part of me emerged. Continue reading “Zara”