Mental health from both sides
Lockdown continues, and my hair carries on growing. Trivial, yet trying, and it does make you think, given that there’s plenty of time to do so. In my youth, I was relatively low maintenance - I was one of those girls who had long hair when it wasn’t fashionable, and I rarely went to the…
The last couple of weeks have been trying for all of us, wherever we live. Fear of covid-19, fear of illness, fear for loved ones, fear for livelihood, fear of isolation. All of these are massive stressors in their own right, so thrown all together their impact is grim. But it is the usual lot…
I’ve already written about psychiatric drugs, but this is a new post, and perhaps more personal than the last. For me, and I suspect others, taking psychiatric medication is a problem every day of my life. It’s like I have two people in me, one saying – ‘Yes, you know you need to take them,…
As patients, we often ponder whether our doctors, nurses, and other health care professionals are caring enough. As a psychiatrist myself, I assume that I am caring. But how do you measure caringness, what exactly is it? How do we know if we have it, and how can we train others to acquire it? Even…
I am a godyet no godchild of noneand feared by all. None knows where I come fromsave Inone knows what I amsave I. I dance and I singwith drink I make merrybut none can stomach my joysave I. I’m the black of the sky andthe green of the oceana child’s high-pitched scream andthe tumult of motion. None can escape…
I lie there, flat upon the bedMy eyes are wide, unseeing wide,The plastic mask conceals my faceA needle pricks my hand.I breathe in fear, a blowing fear,And then what passed was lost A rising tone bore me awayTo somewhere I forgot. I wonder what was done to meWhat currents crossed my mind?What sin had I committedTo be…
Mental illness is very personal, and also very immediate. When it happens to you, it is all that there is, surrounding you, bending your thinking, affecting what you say to others. But those people that are listening to you are not always in the same place as you, even those who have experienced similar illnesses…
Dead toad on the roadWhere were you going?Who did you hope to meetWhen everything stopped? Toad you are forgottenNo-one mourns youWhat spawn you have begottenThink not of you.
Frog, your legs were long, symmetrical and braveAnd also deadYour arms were crossed across your breastYou looked at rest. What creature killed you, Frog,And left you there?A sacrificed amphibianOn a cold, stone stair.
My mind is souredLike pickles caught in teethLingering past the tasteAnd spreading doubt.I hate the cloak I wearOf clinging knowledgeI hate the doubts I feelAnd they are me and youAnd you.No longer do I taste of milkFresh and sweet and pureMy thoughts are long fermented.I will never know quite whereBut the road to deathIs paved…