Poem 33 Voluntary Work Helps My Life

VOLUNTARY  WORK  HELPS  MY  LIFE

I have been doing Voluntary Work for Many Years now.

My Mental Health Problems which are Also,

Mentioned about in my Poetry Book,

“SOME OF THESE MAKE SENSE, SOME OF THEM DONT,

BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT LIFE IS.”

Post Traumatic Stress, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder,

Depression not Clinical and Schizophrenia.

Pricing Books for a Local Hospice and working on the Till,

Another Charity Shop Pricing Dvd’s, Computer Games and CD’s.

Welcomer at a Cathedral, telling History,

from Roman Times to the Present.

18^th Century Church near my Address, again talking History,

Which is what my Degree was in.

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Mental illness and addiction runs rampant in my family. Mostly on my mothers side where it can be traced back for generations. As for me I feel lucky that my mental health seems to be centered around depression. I say lucky because my brother has been institutionalized with schizophrenia for over 30 yrs. I have two cousins who are gone now that also had schizophrenia that lived on the streets mostly and who are an example of the poor mental health care system we have in the US. Don’t get me wrong, their are scores of wonderful folks out their doing great work in helping the mentally ill but the resources they have are limited. My uncle and grandmother committed suicide which is something I have thought about almost daily for many years. My grandmother walked in the ocean back in the 1930’s 9 months after giving birth to her 6th child. PPD was probably the reason but unfortunately back then it wasn’t recognized.

 My history includes lots of alcohol and drug abuse. I look back and see that I was treating the symptoms of depression without even knowing it. Alcohol worked really well and I had many fun and enjoyable times in the beginning although like most alcoholics I drank irresponsibly. Long story short those substances stopped working and the spiral down continued. I am clean and sober now and depression and it’s systems are a daily occurrence. Support groups have been helpful and medication has given me temporary relief but like all the substances I have used, medications turn on me. Lots of anger and thoughts of suicide occur after a short period of taking medications so I gave up on them. Today I use the tools I have learned over the years. Focusing on gratitude is the most powerful. I am grateful my illness isn’t so severe that I would be unable to access the part of my brain that sees normality. Thanks for letting me share.

7 years ago I was plagued with an overwhelming reign of fear, confusion, anxiety and depression, to the point of suicide. I now know that my demise was the onset of schizophrenia. After several attempts with suicide and hospital visits I was finally referred to a mental health physician. He evaluated me with any insight and information I could give him. Unfortunately I was too paranoid to put all my trust in the doctors. I thought if I admitted all my ailments I would get locked away for good. 

It took 4 years for me to get diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic, mean while for the next four years living in unimaginable fear of everything. I was originally diagnosed as depressed. I can’t begin to explain the depression fear and confusion within these next 4 years but things kept getting worse and I didn’t care anymore if they locked me away. In desperation i broke down and finally admitted all my symptoms and relief was at my doorstep. 

My doctor was able to put me on the right medication. Don’t get me wrong it took a lot of work on both of our parts to get the right dosage of meds but perseverance paid off. Don’t give up on the meds because you don’t feel totally right or they cause side effects. Eventually these wear off and you’ll feel like you again.

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Hi, my name is Ayana and I’ve been diagnosed with schizophrenia since September of 2016. I first noticed a lot of pain in my body. It was hard to focus on tasks due to my change in behavior. I couldn’t try to stop the spread of the disease over the years I have been a terrified lady. I am 25 years old and I manage my medication with the help of mental health specialists/professionals. I am paranoid schizophrenia and I suffer from anxiety and depression. I am very sick and it feels as though my time on this earth is gradually coming to an end. I am writing to mirror the many who have shared their story in hopes that mental health awareness will continue to take on the struggle of dealing with all of the types of mental challenges. 

Poem 1( for today) ninth poem sent

STILL  MORE  MEMORIES  OF  THE  PSYCHIATRIC  HOSPITAL

In the NHS Psychiatric Hospital, Lucky had a Single Room,

For 2 Months until Diagnosed with Schizophrenia in March.

I then Shared a Room with 5 other people, Enough Space.

I was Allowed to go Home, Saturday Morning to Sunday Evening,

This was the Pattern from the start.

I Read Many Books on the First World War,

Which made my Problems Worse without Me Realizing,

Despite having Nightmares about the War.

Did not speak to other Patients nor leave my Room, First Month.

“I shall enter the Smoke room and Talk to Fellow Sufferers.”

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Poem 29

LIQUID KEEPS YOU ALIVE-HERE IS THE MEASURER

Somebody with Schizophrenia Drowned drinking Excess Water,

 It’s up to me not to suffer the same Fate.                                   

The Measurer, have 7 Drinks of Water,

200 ML each equals 1400ML of Water per Day.

Read in Paper, 3 drinks of Tea per day, avoid a Stroke,

3 times 200ML, the Magical 2000ML, 2 Litres a Day.

I was drinking 3 Litres, not Dangerous, but best to Conform,

Glad I did 3 Litres, dehydrated in my 20’s.

Mentally ILL or not, this Advice will Help Your Life.

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Hello. You can call me Jack. I’m 17 and I’m going through what you could call “hell on earth.” Over the past 2 years my mental health has taken a nose dive. I’m just now coming to terms with the fact that I’m developing a serious case of schizophrenia. 2017 was the year I had my first hospitalization. I told my mom one day I was done with living. So we went to the hospital and I stayed for about 5 days. It was surreal there. My mind began to tell me things. “This isn’t happening. None of this is real.” The day I got out I thought to myself: “I never wanna do that again.” Fast forward to October of 2018. My mind is beginning to cave in on itself. I brought a knife to school and planned on calling the police so they would shoot me. I didn’t do it because I was afraid I would go down as a terrorist or something. So my mom came to school to pick me up early as I came to the counselors office and told her I wanted to kill myself. (Didn’t say I had a knife on me) My mom took me home and we began to scream at each other. She was gonna lose her job because of me. She said “What are you gonna do!? Huh? Nothing.” So I pulled out the knife and told her I’m done. She got on the phone and called my counselor, who then began to talk to me over the phone. Little did I know he told the police about me. I heard sirens in the distance as I rambled on and on to my counselor. Then, it happened. A white car pulled up to the front lawn. Two large men got out. I dropped the phone. They came up to the door almost unaware of my mental state. I swung the front door open. I said, “Oh look its the police.” I then pulled out my knife and said “shoot me.” They quickly rushed in and said “Don’t do it! Don’t do it!” I ran around the corner and got hit by two tasers. One in the stomach and one in the shoulder from behind. I timbered over like a tree. Laying on the ground feeling every atom in your body have electricity shot through it. It was extremely painful. They cuffed me and took me outside. I wasn’t crying yet. But It came. I slowly began to realize that my life might just be over. I’m going to be imprisoned for years. I got in an ambulance and went to the local hospital. A cop came around the corner and explained to me that they weren’t going to charge me on the count that I’m mentally ill. It was a relief. But then came the time to go to a place where I would be “safe.” So it was either the penitentiary or a children’s hospital in another city. Finally, a spot at the hospital opened. I got there late at night just like the prior hospitalization. I got into my room and passed out. I cannot tell you how much I despise that hospital. I was bullied there. And we were kept in a tiny day room all day. I got out on Halloween Day and I got to hang out with someone who I really like. I was ready to try again at life. January comes. The voices in my head are telling me to end it again. I stayed up all night writing a 50 paragraph suicide note. I began to post suicidal things on social media. And one day, my best friend called me “the most ignorant person I know” And just like that, they were all gone. My four best friends. One of them being someone I loved a lot. So here we are now. I have no friends and I’m not in school. But I do have hope still. I want you to know. If you are reading this. I do love you. Even if I don’t know you. I love you. I know what it feels like. To go through hell. To have no friends. To have a crippling mental illness. If you’re thinking of hurting yourself, please don’t. It will only bring more pain and suffering. If not to you then to your family and friends. If you have faith in God, use it to your full strength. I have faith that someday I will meet someone with a beautiful, strong heart. Strong enough to remind me everyday that they love me. So don’t give up. Even if you think you have nothing. Fight back and tell yourself that someone in this world loves you. Even if that person is me. 

So, since 2011 my older brother has been having symptoms but has been diagnosed with schizophrenia, bipolar disorder and ADHD, in my opinion psychosis. I’ve been to mental health court with him, tried several programs and various medications. Me and mother’s last resort is always the hospitalization. He needs therapy, he hasn’t been on meds in 9 months he was fine but not he decided to get back on meds but doesn’t take all of them. He’s an alcoholic, beer consumption everyday! He always blames me and my mother if he can’t find something he lost. He has angry issues, blast loud music and in his car I’m surprised neighbors don’t call the police for noise complaints. It’s exhausting going through this all. I can’t allow my oldest brother who also in a program to come over because my other brother thinks he steals his stuff which isn’t true. I can barely sleep most of the time, I sleep over my bf house just to get a rest, on top of that I’m my mother’s caregiver she has metastatic breast cancer. The stress is unbearable. Idk what to do anymore except deal with it as I been dealing with it sadly.

I wake up on morning realizing that my mental health problems didn’t stop with depression… 3 years after being diagnosed the voices decided to rear their ugly heads. I was now in a tailspin of confusion and a million questions. Why me? What is this? Will I ever overcome this?

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poem 1

BUSINESS  COLLEGE  BLUES

12 Months before I First enter the Psychiatric Hospital,

Signed Off Work with Depression,

Thus 5 Wasted Months not completing a Business Studies Course.

 Very Little, More Sleeping, Staring into Space and not Talking much.

Depressed not finding Full Time Heritage Paid Work,

Plus adjusting to the Depression Tablets.

 I Seriously want to Smash My Head,

against the Glass of Business Certificates,   

after all, in My Depression, will never get one.

Telling member of Staff, she very surprised,

 It very clear, The Black Eyed Dogs,

Are Going to Take Over this Business College.

My Duty, Save this College, thus urgently inform the Manager.

“Why don’t you act straight away,” my reaction,

As He says “would I know it Wrong to strip Naked Here.”

The Building Cheers as I Leave,

For I am Sane enough to do,

Seasonal Heritage Paid Work again.

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