I would like to welcome the newest member of our writing team, Sydney. In her first post with us, she expresses her experiences with depression with humor. Thanks for sharing with us, Sydney!
After a long hiatus, my depression came back. I made this comic to deal with it.
May 24th is Schizophrenia Awareness Day. In honour of it, we’ve gone purple for the day! Here’s a song, written and performed by Coda Francis, about his experience with schizophrenia.
I hear sirens in my head,
As I’m wide awake, laying on my bed.
The air is thick with the smell of fear and hate.
Clean the carpet from the hypothetical blood stains.
I’m afraid you have become furniture, brother mine.
Nothing but an engraved box among a hollow wooden desk.
You’re not longer those books your read, the letters that lined
The inside of your throat and tongue. You’re no longer
The songs you played with shaking fingers and bouncing
Legs at three AM when the world finally dozed to sleep.
Trigger Warning: alcoholism, addiction, mention of drug use
How many of my own garments shuffle
with the scrubs and hospital gowns
They feel disposable
But so do mine
As I prepare
As I prepare to leave the hospital
As I prepare to go to rehab
I listen to Amy Winehouse on my headphones.
She is dead.
That is enough
I say yes to everything but is it enough
I think of my heart not as a muscle, or a stone, or a vase to be filled, but like a flower.
A delicate flower.
When it’s content, it blooms.
When I was in hospital this year, I started working on this “book of truths” with my roommate. She was doing it as part of a group housing program she was in and she introduced me to the concept. I photographed some of my favorites and made this little poster to hang on my wall, so that they would be easily visible when I needed them. The concept is to write them down in a notebook and then read them outloud. Saying things out loud is one of the best ways to make yourself believe them, which is why just reading them doesn’t work as well.
The last few weeks have been chaotic for me. I’ve been in a mixed episode, and starting last week, I’ve been hearing voices. Whispers, chatter, and someone calling my name. All either alone, or only with my partner nearby, and she’s confirmed that they aren’t things that she’s heard. I’ve also been feeling like the crows that wake me up in the morning are mocking me. I’ve known for months that something like this was inevitable, but it’s still jarring to experience a psychotic episode for your first time.
It was created during a stay in the psychiatric ward at my local hospital… I don’t know what else to say about it. I kind of went into a zone and just painted until I felt finished.
I would like to welcome the newest member of our writing team, Reba Overkill. In its first post with us, it speaks through poetry to recall its struggle with being heard by the people who matter. Thanks for sharing with us, Reba!
Trigger Warning: allusions to sexual abuse, self-injury & suicide attempts.
it all came together a few nights ago, weak and bent
in your lap, feeling lost, feeling like it was years ago when
i was never anything like the me that you know. i was
someone who was trying to speak, nobody listened and i didn’t
understand because i can hear so fucking well, i listened and
i heard sirens, and songs that i would sing with people who i did
not end up loving very kindly. i heard calm assertions by
people in authority that left cracks in parts of me. i heard
the breath i took in when i woke up and was not dead, even
for all my trying. i heard people leaving hints for their departure,
inclining heads towards one-way tickets to not existing.
