I wish Part II

source: http://www.deviantart.com/customization/wallpaper/?view_mode=2&order=14&q=Self+Aware

It would be nice to have an illness,

that everyone could see

So that when I'm scared and tired

the reassurance wouldn't be,

But if you had the flu, a bug

or a broken bone inside your head,

would you or anyone else expect

that you should leave your bed?

I wish I had a fault that was easier to fix,

and a well researched and trialled dose

could save me from it's hits.

But when something's wrong inside your brain

it is all just in your head.

An insidious and deadly toll it takes on you instead,

and no on can tell by looking

that you're walking but are dead.

So no one sends you get well cards,

few people give you time

like they would if you were hospitaled

with broken bones, or flu of swine.

So instead you just stop telling where the pain you feel hides.

Because you yourself, know longer know's for sure where it lives inside.

You search for ways instead to feel something that is real

a physical sensation in a place your hands can feel.

Look a cut, see, here's my hurt.

See I'm not ok.

This pain is real, and feels more pleasant than what's standing in my way,

and you can tell by looking, that this pain is not ok.

Not Ok

I have to get out. I just don't know how.

I'm pretty sure that all I am learning in here is to be quiet. The less I tell them, the freerer I remain.
If I tell them I want to hurt myself, they'll post a 24/7 watch on my door.
Today I actually packed my entire room up and told them I wanted to be discharged. This was, admittedly through a haze of ugly crying. Just like that, talking to a doctor. More hospital protocol being lectured at me.

I can't stand it. I actually think I am becoming worse just being here.

There is an ever growing list of things I can and can't do. Don't use unsterilised water for your baby bottles. Don't enter the art room in only socks. Don't eat your meals in your room (granted, I haven't actually been caught on that one yet). Don't use a hot water bottle. Don't use a wheat bag. Don't use a heat pack. Don't try to escape.

Definitely, don't try to escape.

But I haven't felt normal in over a week now. I have felt dizzy and nauseas every one of those long days. A nurse suggested it was anxiety, but dizziness isn't one of my anxiety symptoms. I want to stop taking the respiridone. I don't think it's helping. My moods are swinging with more severity and to further extremes than they have ever done before. I can't sleep. I have no appetite. I was happy and feeling good within myself for twelve whole hours, from last night to lunchtime today.

I wrote 1000 words on my novel. I rang my sister. I wrote poetry. I went for a long walk in the sun with Bean and on the way we sang and I composed two songs in my head. Neither of which I can remember.

Our lovely walk - kind of. Source: www.christchurchtop10.co.nz

But all it took was for one nurse, to say one thing and I crashed so hard, that I still haven't got back up.

I am so tired. I was falling asleep by seven. But it's closer to ten now and here I am. Writing furiously because I actually don't feel safe.

There, the truth.

I don't feel safe with myself right now, and I am afraid to tell anyone because all I want to do is go home.

I am looking at my pinboard (which is now covered in pictures of trees and other nature things I ripped from magazines in the lounge) and desperately trying to imagine myself in a secluded cabin. With no one but myself for company, and nothing but a book to read and a novel to write. Two weeks of nothing but freedom and nature.

I think, that that is what would get me well.

This drug trial prison is going to kill me. But if I say anything like that, the walls will only close tighter.

Respite

She is what I cling to.

A Prayer

Trigger Warning. Self Harm and Suicide


Thank God for a family, who are there when I fall,
who move heaven and earth at my un-cried out call.
Who will drive through the night, just to be by my side,
when the dark gets to great and I cant bear the ride.

Thank God for a Father who will let down his walls,
and send reinforcements, the moment they're called.
And a Mother who senses a fall from afar,
and will travel o'er mountains to be where you are.

Thank god for a Sister who laughs, jokes and smiles,
who has never once judged and will go extra miles,
who just lets me be, but wont let me fall deep,
deeper than from where I think I can creep.

Thank God for a Sister who prays far away,
who checks on me secretly to see I'm OK.
And the Brother who silently looks on and fears,
although he cant get here, I know that he cares.

Thank God for a Lover who knows it's not me,
when I'm screaming, and crying and not wanting to be.
When I'm scratching my skin, in a bid to ease pain,
and when blood flows I'm pleading 'God take my insane.'

Thank God for my Baby who as yet doesn't know,
that her Mummy is suffering from yet one more blow.
But no matter how hard, when I fall and I ache,
I know I wont leave her, I know I can't break.

When the pills start to beckon, and the thoughts get so black,
that I beg for oblivion and can't claw my way back.
When I plead with my Husband to commit me, admit me,
that's when I fear, of my Babe, I'm not worthy.

Please God, protect her, from that which I hide,
From her cherubic face and her innocent eyes.
Don't let her suffer the way that I have,
grant her peace from this darkness,
Let her live, love and thrive.

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