#mentalillness

682 posts
  • cla_rhys 13w

    Despite the ego
    Confront the issues

    Face the knowledge
    Contest the fears

    Find the grace
    Embrace yourself


    ©cla_rhys

  • creschke 13w

    Worthless:

    The feeling inside
    Cutting like a knife
    Empty plague
    Black as light
    Ripping Sun's glow
    From a moon's sheild
    ©creschke

  • mmbftd 13w

    Backwards

    I can feel it again
    Time
    Moving backwards
    In the wrong direction
    Away from me
    And I'm standing
    In the middle of summer sun
    Looking at blue sky
    And white clouds
    Where the insects
    Create a symphony
    For only me
    And the jumping spider's
    Brightly colored displays
    Pacify me
    And get me through my days
    But its coming
    The dark is coming for me
    Like footsteps thrown
    In echoes behind me
    I've grown accustomed
    To looking over my shoulder
    And wishing I could
    Push that pocketwatch's
    Clicking, cold, bronze button
    To stop it at once
    As the sweat blooms
    Over my brow
    And my skin reddens in this heat
    The yellow sun makes celebrity appearances
    But mostly its giant and white
    A glaring sharp contrast
    To the yellow gold sun of my childhood
    And haven't I always been running from something?
    Shadows cast without origin-
    Angry screaming fists-
    Isolation-
    Until the only place I could exist
    Was inside myself
    Where I lay my words
    Like bricks
    One by one around my soul
    Until no one
    Not even I
    Could reach it anymore.
    And now this is that month
    Where the anxiety begins
    To settle into my psyche
    It moves back and forth
    Rubbing itself down
    into the nest its making
    Like some horrible grey feathered creature
    And I've no more room for nests like this
    I'm full up from years of it
    But what can I do?
    Its coming Damn it
    I'm powerless to stop it
    Time cannot be controlled
    By something as insignificant as me.
    The darkness bites
    Its sharp teeth rip tender flesh
    I bleed when the night comes early
    I cower afraid
    Though I am grown
    And when will this ever stop?
    This looking over my shoulder
    Because I'd love to just enjoy this sun
    While I have it.


    ©mmbftd

  • swarnima07 13w

    Depression

    You're here yet you are lost.
    ©swarnima07

  • 4w_n_c 13w

    Sometimes my mental suffering seeps out into my physical life
    This is called depression I am told
    ©4w_n_c

  • joannalee 13w

    Wearing red lipstick, in my opinion, is the simplest way to make an impact. As soon as I slick it on, I feel instantly pulled together, more powerful, more womanly. I wear it all, almost every day.
    ©joannalee

  • clichedpoetandtheirhues 14w

    Blue Monopoly

    Only when I Breath
    Walks as slow as you do

    Cave In
    Jump out

    Breathe
    Im in need of help

    You have control over,
    What I do and I say

    The hollow trees in my forest
    I hope to fill in one-day

    There's a river flowing…
    flowing faster than the great blue sea

    You have a blue monopoly…
    over my soul

    Only when I run,
    do you want to come

    Only when I write do you make me shiver,
    Its then when you leave

    Only when I speak Is when…
    you don't want to leave

    Why do I forseek
    The bitterness and the bleak

    Why do you keep me weak
    Fighting an arbitrary losing battle

    Shadows covering corners
    Suffocating me in darkness

    Chest thumping fast
    Flooding in crisis

    Crying myself to sleep
    Whispering in my ear

    Endless yearning of yore
    Something that I couldn't have any more

    I wish you didn't have a blue monopoly on me
    Not letting me breathe

    Not letting me sleep
    Why, because you have a hold on me

    All I could do…
    is nothing

    ©clichedpoetandtherehues

  • gayzebraz 14w

    Shit City: An Introduction

    CONTENT WARNING: abuse/sexual abuse


    It feels as though talking about the important things is getting more difficult for me.  I can talk about some of it, sure. But some is just as deep, dark, and hidden as it always has been.

    It is very difficult for me to talk about my sexual abuse.  People usually expect that that’s a difficult thing to talk about.  But for me, it’s like admitting my own guilt. It’s like entering back into that living room with the ugly, puke-green curtains pulled shut.  

    I don’t know if I’m ready to write about the actual abuse that took place.  I think that will come with time, and currently I’m unsure how writing it out would be beneficial to me.

    I am ready to share some of my feelings regarding the abuse, however.  I’ll start with a list, as I love using lists for complicated things.


    Alex’s Feelings about her Abuse

    Fear

    The fear is residual.  It is the fear I get every time someone comes too close; the fear I feel when a man (and sometimes women) makes a comment.  You know the comments (hey baby girl, I’ll see you soon, etc.). The inner child inside me continues to feel afraid, sometimes with nothing to trigger the fear.  At least seemingly nothing.

    Guilt

    Simply put, I feel like I could have stopped it.  I know I fought him physically a lot, and sometimes it would work.  But I also know I sought him out sometimes, as my own sexuality was burgeoning.  I sought HIM out. Not explicitly, but I felt (and still feel) wrong for the fact that it felt physically good for my body.  I knew it was wrong, I knew I shouldn’t feel the way I did, but I did. I still feel this guilt. I still have sexual thoughts about my abuser (as my therapist helped me clarify, these are thoughts, not an actual attraction).  I still get aroused with thoughts of my abuse.  I still feel abnormal. I still feel like I’m a ‘wrong’ person. I still can’t have what I think of as a ‘normal’ sexual relationship, because it is a) hard for me to get aroused a lot of the time and b) the sexual abuse thoughts almost always accompany sexual activities.  I hope that someday I will feel normal.

    Sadness

    Abuse is something that can understandably make anyone sad.  I am sad for the child that experienced this for years. I’m sorry that there was no adult that you felt like you could go to for help.  I’m sorry that you bore this weight alone. I’m sorry that mom was gone and couldn’t help. I’m also sad that my abuser must live with the guilt of this act.

    Empathy

    I know, this is a weird one.  How on Earth could I empathize with my abuser?  The one who hurt me, physically and forever emotionally.  But I really can empathize. He was young (not quite 4 years older than me), and he had lost his mother, too.  He knew it was wrong, but did not know how to control his feelings. He likely didn’t know how to stop himself from his actions.  He was likely using drugs. So, in the end, he was almost as (if not as) vulnerable as me. And he has had to live with his own guilt, for all these years.  He just recently apologized: bawling on the phone, repeatedly saying he was sorry for all the things he did. I told him it was ok, that I had had my therapy to work on it.  I was unaware that I would be continuing my journey processing this abuse.
    ©gayzebraz

  • _riggy_ 14w

    I can't think,
    Yet I can't sit still.

    I can't stop
    What can I do.

    I'm feeling crazy,
    Yet I'm in control.

    Strange how one minute I'm ok,
    And the next minute
    I'm in pieces on the floor.

    ©_riggy_

  • littlebird31 14w

    Strange

    The strange thing is how I can hear the narrative your soul speaks without you ever saying a word.

    Also the way you can climb into my head flawlessly and live there for days, forever maybe - if I let you.

    The way you lick my brain, like the technician climbing inside his clients to coax every wire to do it's job.

    And I want to write you into a love poem because we are the physical embodiment of love; but we are also the physical embodiment of mistakes and regret.

    All I know is your heartbeat is the exact tempo my brain needs to remain calm.

    Maybe it's a stroke of luck, maybe it's a God-given gift, maybe it's fate.
    But it's strange.
    ©littlebird31

  • kissingkeight 14w

    You wonder why I'm so fucked up.

    But look at who raised me.

    You.


    ©kissingkeight

  • sharkbaitsharpie 14w

    His blues

    Blue is something i see in both of you. Many blues for blue is a common colour, yet each blue means sometging vastly different. The soft royal blue, a colour that instantly makes you feel as though you can trust and that the person you speak to is to be relied on, is a blue that is held close to your heart, shooting out in pulses with your heart beat that circles your body, drawing others near by radiating loyality and trust.
    Yet you both have a calmer blue to you, it has a name that which you do not say for it is not socially okay to admit to fully yet. The calmer blue of a sea, calm before the storm waiting for its oppertunity to take more lives, or the blue that can never be properly seen just felt when you loose someone dear. This colour fades in and out of you both, washing over you and trying to find a hold, for once it finds the smallest thing to get a hold of it will be able to grow and consume all your other beautiful colours, as it does not simply hide the other colours but consumes them, making then impossible for you to see. Yet from the outside we will always be able to see them, for the blue will only ever be able to enshroud your head and never fully hide your proper colours

  • sharkbaitsharpie 14w

    Colours of the void

    The void still has holes from last time but i know what it wants i know why its here
    Its on the mend to be full again and tear me limb from limb
    There is nothing i can do about the void but accept it for itll never go away
    But the mood right now is to embrace it and thats not right for i should fight it
    Yet
    As I look now,
    It morphs through all the colours of a fire
    Red. The anger and frustration of the situation and those to come. Wanting to hurt myself or others as a way to vent off the steam that feels like its blowing out of my every pore
    But also
    The increased energy and passion of the situation. The feelings welling up to become overwhelming
    Then the red fades lighter, into orange.
    With that the anger fades, as does the frustration leaving only a nervous energy behind.
    Its warm, but overwhelming. The nervousness grows like the heat of a freshly stoked fire becoming an anxiety that is unbearable
    All the mistakes of the past, all the worries of the future and the things left unsaid
    The orange is overwhelming, like the fire has jumped from something tangable near me to something more inside me. Lighting every last piece of me up in an orange so bright it burns
    Finally the void morphes yellow, not the bright yellow of a light but the soft reassuring hue of marigold or the soft little bumblebee that had landed on it
    This is both the most alluring and dangerous colour for the void, as yellow is my favourite
    This yellow is warm and inviting, not overwhelming in the same way the orange was. Yet the yellow is also a warning
    For the danger to come, the danger that is
    For the void looks alluring as though if you embrace it it may solve your problems yet
    From inside the void everything looks yellow.
    And its fatiguing
    So you sit there and pray, for what else are you to do with your eyes closed?
    The void is simply doing its dance of colours like birds of paradise in mating before it reveals its true self of never ending pitch again. For it can not truely be called black as the pitch of the void lacks the emotions of black
    ©sharkbaitsharpie

  • littlebird31 15w

    I guess you could say I'm upset.

    Upset that babies are kicked across living rooms while they play the roll of soccer ball at a party they aren't supposed to be at.

    Upset that three-month-olds are left with men their mothers just met, barely know but kind of like, to be fondled and touched and who really knows what happened that day because it was me and him and my memory doesn't go back that far.

    Upset that kids are screamed at and spanked before they are ever understood.

    Upset that I'm standing before a fortune wheel with the traumas of my past on it, spinning and spinning and spinning, and I'm trying to pin point which one gave me PTSD but they all look like a worst case scenario that I did not sign up for.

    I guess you could say I'm upset that my life was put in the hands of irresponsible people, that I have to heal from a childhood that looked a lot more like a war zone than what my peers described as happy.

    I'm upset I have to forgive you for things my memory will not allow me to remember.

    I'm upset that what is preached is not practiced.

    I guess I'm upset because what you did to me will always affect me.
    ©littlebird31

  • _riggy_ 15w

    ©_riggy_

  • _riggy_ 15w

    Avoiding mirrors has always been a thing
    Not sure how it came about
    But everytime I'm feeling good
    And I see myself, I never look like me
    And to be honest it freaks me out.
    ©_riggy_

  • maliciouslybrutal 15w

    Beautifully Insane. Nothing Wrong With This Brain

    It really is no secret that in today's society the majority of the female population suffer greatly from anxiety, depression, lack of sleep and constant worry. It isn't that women choose to feel this way, it's just human nature to be cautious of our surroundings. But how far is too far when it comes to your own mind? A phone call in the middle of the night "he's cheating", words that don't add up "he's cheating", a woman's voice, a message on social media. Anything is a trigger to those who suffer from chronic anxiety, honestly there is no cure. A pill can temporarily relieve you of the pain, but it never fully takes away from the emotional pain you go through. Even then taking a pill to relieve 5 minutes of your suffering is better than living 5 years of emotional torture. It's pretty serious when you need instant relief of pain, even if it doesn't last long. That's why most who suffer from this end up becoming addicted to medications. It's not the brand or the shape that people get addicted too, its that sheer volume of relief you get, almost like coming up from the water to take a big breath. Suddenly the pain is gone, you feel invincible and the thought of your pain never comes to mind, until it wears off and you find yourself taking more and more. People don't mean to get addicted to medications, it really isn't their intention to become addicted. If you think about it, the pills aren't what make people addicted, it's the effect that it gives you so they keep coming back for more and more because they love that moment of clarity they felt. You can get addicted to anything, the biggest addiction we face is cyberspace but no one wants to admit it. For every question, google has answer, for every symptom, web MD has a sollution, for every need, craigslist has it in bulk and for every thought, feeling or emotion facebook has an emoji, gif aand background to fullfil whatever it is youre needing to say.

    So what if I told you that over thinking is actually an addiction, And that the results of it end in obession. It is true, your mind is like a sponge, everything you've said, done, heard or experienced just doesn't go away, it's still there in your brain just waiting for an opportunity to come out. I'm a normal 28 year old. I am usually very outgoing and bubbly and nothing usually gets me down. Aside from reaching the end of a netflix binge or caseys not delivering during the week, i really dont have much to complain about... actually, that was a total lie, but it sounded good right? But you see? That is just it, were forced to lie and forced to pretend we're all fine because the sudden hint of a problem and people have issues. With our issues.... yeah i know. Its fucked up.. I wish I could just lie to everyone and say I've overcome all my trials but I can't because I haven't. It would be nice if I "myself" could make sense of all of this but that would mean life was easy and it really isn't.

    In a perfect world, id sleep 9 hours a night, id be able to eat 3 meals a day, I would have a smile on my face every minute. In a perfect world life would be easy but sadly our world is far from perfect. My life consists of having insomnia so bad that I don't sleep for days, I hardly eat, when i do eat I pick at my food and I push it around on my plate, I drink red bull everyday because I'm so worn down that without caffeine I wouldn't even be human, I take unisom sleep gels every day because it cuts the edge of my anxiety. I take it So i don't feel anything and I take it because sleeping through depression seems easier than fighting it. Which in my reality here an over the counter dose of diphenhydramine seems better than an actual script of antidepressants lingering in your bathroom medicine cabinet. At least when i have guests and they use my bathroom and assuming that theyre nosey they wont nave to ask questions to themselves because all they will think is "oh she just has trouble sleeping" not "woah what on earth does she need Prozac, lithium and ambien for"? While they ask themselves questions regarding the contents of ones medicine cabinet, i ask "why the hell are they going through it in the first place? Ismt anything private anymore?"

    What makes a person deteriorate to the point where they can't even function like a normal human being? The truth is, our lives are a constant target for anything to be thrown our way.  Do you know how it feels to be captive by your own mind? To always suspect the worst because that is all you seem to know? Do you know how it feels to see your husband do something so innocent like checking the mail and suspect he's cheating on you? This is what anxiety and depression does to you. But fear not there is a sollution, just take two of these a day with a large glass of water before a meal but dont operate heavy machinery because while these pills are burning holes through your stupid fucking damaged brain, they will also make you forget how to be an actual human. You can loose yourself but God forbid you drive a car.... Doctors tell you that you need counseling, that you need to be on medication, that you aren't stable minded. They know how to diagnose you and how to write a script for you but if you think about it, They never ask you why you feel the way you do. If doctors spent more time talking to us than evaluating us, maybe our medicated population would become slimmer. In the end just having someone to talk to could make the world of a difference.

    A person who has chronic anxiety is immediately labled as unstable, you're crazy for freaking out over a scene in a movie, you're labeled as paranoid when the smallest word makes you think your partner is or has been unfaithful, shame on you for spending the day in bed crying in your pillow, you become selfish when you don't acknowledge the beautiful day that is upon you, stop being immature because crowds of people aren't there to hurt you. My God how sorry i am that what unspeakable horrors ive faced in my life became a problem for you.

    Its attention like this, that make people like me fear the worst about the world. Because how can we trust the world when the world is the reason we are the way we are. Its a shame that innocent people are suffocating under the pressure that the universe puts on us to be normal. 
    You applaud the girl who stands up for her rights as a woman, yet you judge the woman on antidepressants. You support the man who came from nothing and became something, yet judge the men who are afraid to leave the house due to the fear of being ridiculed by the public. You despise the mother who killed her children simply because she suffered a serious form of postpartum depression yet applaud the mother killing her children before they even took their first breath outside of the womb, because if a doctor assists you in a clinical abortion then its okay, you just cant kill your kids because you were depressed, it has to be done by a doctor because its your right as a woman to choose... What in the actual fuck? Murder is murder, you cannot be disgusted by murder then be 100% supportive of murder. Murder is murder no matter what term you link it too. You support the officers who protect us, then bash the officers for giving you a ticket for speeding, you spend all day giving thanks for what you have then trample people to death for 20% off merchandise. This is how sick and twisted our world has actually become, it's no wonder why the majority of people spend their days inside...

    Do you see now what I mean? How can the people of this world who suffer from mental illness, have faith that they will be treated equally when the entire human race is two faced. This is why so many lgbt  members are afraid to come out of hiding, because what kind of person is born a girl but wants to be a boy could have any kind of a future? A transgender must obviously be mentally ill to want to dress drag. Everyone in the lgbt community are branded as mentally unstable, cause they just aren't normal. Really???!! It's so freaking sad that you have to brand someone unstable all because they choose to live their life the way they want. I get so angry when i see beautiful people being slaughtered over social media because of their sexual prefrence, gender, race or religion. Im among the few who actually accept people as they are .

    The world that surrounds us is to blame for our insecurities. They have a pill for each kind of illness, symptom and feeling yet there is no pill made for the human race that will snap reality back in place.

    The only kind of resolution we need is remembering how to be human.
    ©maliciouslybrutal

  • geometricsphere 15w

    Depersonalisation

    I've abused the word "love" so much
    It's second nature to me now.

    I have no excuse for the things I have done,
    For the person I have become.

    I am nothing of who I used to be,
    Nothing of who I aspire to be.

    Maybe that's why I bought the pills.

    Maybe that's why I feel so out of place,
    Because there is no place for me
    In a world that I have created and aspired for my future self.

    Because I do not welcome the type of people that I am now.

    Because, in a sense,
    I am

    Nothing
    To


    Myself

    ©geometricsphere

  • littlebird31 13w

    This actually came from something that was said about me from someone who knows nothing of me. Guys... stop the body shaming. It's ridiculous.
    #SkinnyBitch #Skinny #Weight #Mirakee #MirakeeWriter #writersnetwork #readwriteunite #BirdWrites #ExcerptFromMyJournal #Truth #TheWordsISay #PTSD #MentalIllness #Family #ISwearToGodIDoEat #pod #wte #BodyShaming #JustStop #Triggering

    Read More

    Notes From A Skinny Bitch

    I am a skinny bitch.
    The world falls at my feet.
    Except, when I say the world falls at my feet I mean everytime my aunt points at me, glaring and growling that I need to eat because I'm too small, her finger gets closer and closer to my face.
    When I say the world falls at my feet I mean my grandmother looks suspiciously like a gossiping teenage girl when she whispers her opinions about my weight to anyone who will listen.
    When I say the world falls at my feet I mean that one obese friend is going to always say I look like I'm wasting away.
    When I say the world falls at my feet I mean people shove hamburgers and fried food at me, telling me to "put some meat on those bones."
    I mean that my best friends ex-wife nicknamed me "tiny bitch" because she saw the size of a swimsuit I had left in his truck.
    I mean they flock to me telling me how small I am. They poke and prod and marvel at the size that is me. I MUST be sick to look this way. What on Earth has my doctor said?
    My therapist says I have PTSD.
    They don't want to hear that. So I apologise for being the blemish in their view.
    I tell myself to remember the next time my head turns into a battlefield that eating is more important than prying my pink gun out of my hand. I'll remember that gaining weight is more important than bandaging the gapping wounds that every essence of my being flows from.
    I will repeat it like a mantra, weight is more important than keeping myself intact.
    I'll apologise for not being able to keep my appearance how they like it while fighting the illness they all helped give me.
    And as I watch my words spill on the page, I realize those tiny bitches can't hold much weight at all.
    ©littlebird31

  • littlebird31 14w

    Dissociation

    "You will use math the rest of your life."

    That's what they tell you in school.

    But math is numbers, numbers are counting and counting makes me dissociate.

    Dissociation is the black hole I fall in when I don't feel safe.

    I don't like the word safe. Safe is an unattainable goal.

    What about me isn't safe?

    I remember sitting in Village Inn with my parents that time my father called me every name in the book and told me how worthless I am. 1, 2, 3.

    I remember the counting wasn't working and I was scared he'd finally broke me before I could check out. 4, 5, 6.

    I remember thinking, no one can survive this raw, you have to leave before irrepairable damage is done. 7, 8, 9.

    I remember counting to 20 before I finally slipped into the black abyss that I find peace and rest in, where I can no longer hear my father and the insults he slung at me.

    I can't even hear him screaming at me for "shutting down."

    I remember nothing after because I went nowhere.

    I personally believe that you have to have been somewhere happy to have a happy place, and I only know Happy by its Merriam-Webster Dictionary definition.

    But it's all well and good because I have a black hole.

    It's the black hole that pulls me in while I'm watching my daughter pitch her softball game, because someone behind me said the word grounded.

    I'm told by the rest of the people in the stands that she pitched all three girls out and her home run hit was a thing of beauty.

    I wish I would have seen that but, the black hole was nice too...

    You don't want to avoid the black hole, like when you're driving and you don't have time to visit because you kind of need to pay attention. Then the black hole leaks into reality and suddenly everything is looking cartoony and it all feels unreal, staged. It feels more like an arcade game.

    My best skill at racing arcade games is crashing.

    People tap on your shoulder and wave your hand in front of your face. They want to know what you're staring at. Quick, "nothing" and "I don't know" are not acceptable answers.

    Therapists say you're "triggered", how long can a list of triggers be?

    I wonder if we tallied them up if I would have a matching number of scars on my body from all the bullets they fired at me.

    They say you'll use math all your life. But math is numbers, numbers are counting and counting makes me dissociate.

    And maybe they're right, but it's still a weird kind of achievement that I can be out of here by 2.
    ©littlebird31