It had reached the point where there was no use tidying up in my room. Wardrobe was irreversibly floordrobe and I can say without a shadow of a doubt this mess has been probably the truest reflection of the state of my mental health.

No matter the outward control – I have mastered my emotions to no longer be too distressed at the voices I hear, I have retained rational thought enough to appear unaffected by paranoia.

But finally, last night I had a eureka moment.

This room houses too much in too small a space to ever be able to clear it.

No longer. I’m going for a short weekend away, and upon my return I am taking all my clothes out of my room. These are the things I am emotionally attached to, I wear them to enforce the person I need to be when I need to be her and with them packed away in a suitcase I will have the freedom to sort through and throw out the junk that sits underneath.

I can’t wait, if I pull this off it will be transformative, a new beginning and this little caterpillar will have become a butterfly.

Like all transformations it has been a painful process, and has required more than a little ego death.

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Shields up

After practice I’m sweaty, vulnerable
Open and suggestible
You all come flooding in
I can’t hear myself above the din

Walls that come down must go
Back up, and you must learn that no
Means shut up, because I survived
This practice, not my best
In form or depth, but in my mindset
Intention set and met

Shields to 100% and climbing
Wait for water, sit here rhyming

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A future bright, no longer fraught
More peppered with doubt
All I have sought
Since being born a child from love
Then growing up with war
Then fighting so long that long
since the fighting stopped
I fought myself, and anyone else
But mostly myself

Just one spark of light
Makes past battles seem distant
Keep them: they don’t belong
with me, but to someone else
That child of war…

Who forgot how to love herself

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I took a sojourn from Facebook for a couple of weeks and honestly, my life is ten times better for it.

There have been times in my life that I have been heavily reliant on social media for socialising – perhaps when I’ve been too anxious to leave the house.

However,  my phone has the numbers of the people I talk to regularly,  and some I don’t,  and I found I talked to people a lot more.

What I didn’t expect (although I suppose I should have) was that a few people had blocked me.

This is one of the reasons I do not like Facebook. Why take offence to an imagined virtual slight when you can really talk to a person?

Facebook is lazy and cheap. We are not the centre of the universe with people around like satellites and we shouldn’t expect to be.

Friendships vary, sometimes you’ll see someone everyday, perhaps every year or more but the thing is these take real work. Staring at photos in a newsfeed does not a friendship make, and getting annoyed because people opt out of social media is pointless. I don’t want to be ruled by devices (as much as possible) and I would rather give a friend a call to catch up then feel like we have nothing much to say.

Any more than a hundred friends on your Facebook account is a lie anyway – these people are acquaintances,  nothing more. The most sociable of us (according to New Scientist) can only effectively manage 150 social connections at any given time.

It turned out two weeks was enough to kick the habit. I haven’t checked Facebook since I reactivated it (saving the dredgery of downloading photos to print for the weekend) but I have had some good conversations.

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Ain’t nobody got time for that

My dear Craven Little Raven,

I don’t care.

Sincerest apologies,


C.R.A.W.L – Craven Little Raven Awash With Lies

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Perfect Ensemble

You have the perfect ensemble
Hair coiffed, and not a one
Out of place,  make-up
Made up, to cover up

One errant thread you ignored
But it’s been there some time
So on it you pulled

You left it for fear of unravelling
More comfort found in that lie:
If you were to blame
A small act of contrition

But if you pulled on that thread
The illusion dissolves
Reality hits you instead

Sun burns on naked skin
Eyes squint against the light
Sound is simply noise, too loud
To bear, and too much to take

Even food is too rich for you
Every sense is overwhelmed
Bliss was a fool

And if that was bliss
Then what is this?

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A Spider’s accomplice

Dear Spider,

How clever you are! Reaching out and grazing the people in my periphery, or closer still. You make every new acquaintance a trial.

And as for those who comply? Why do you do it? I can only hope that karma teaches you this lesson and the same happens to those dearest to your hearts and you watch them fall apart the way I have, or claw desperately at reality, the way I have.

With affection,


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Letters to my Paranoia

It’s got to a point now where mad theories plague me, and as an outlet I’ve decided to write open letters to my accuser(s), because fictional or reality I can at least get my point accross.

Dear Stalker,

There’s no need to name drop constantly. I recognised every one, I just, unlike you (I’m assuming), do not feel the need to express every pointless thought that goes through my mind. In fact I’m making a concerted effort not to speak if it doesn’t add any value, so kindly drop it.

Lovingly yours,


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On occasion I forget to breathe
Or how to move through this sea
Rough waters shake my confidence
Things fall apart, I lose my sense
Of balance, self, direction. Slow
And steady tides pull and I go
Under, lungs exhausted. I start
To drown, but now the art
Of learning how to swim, regained
Control reassumed
I can walk on water if I choose

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The Hemp Experiment (this is no longer an experiment)

I cancelled my psychiatrist appointment – I’d gotten the dates wrong and unfortunately I would have had to take time off work, so no discussion there.

However, I am thrilled to post that my anxiety levels have been low. I managed to cancel social plans without getting het up about it, unfortunately my immune system has been low for some time and I’ve started getting flu-like symptoms every month at the other time of the month.

I’ve looked further into the different potencies of tinctures available, and even though mine clocks in at 4% (and it is possible to get considerably higher) I’m not sure I’d want to. This is working for me now, even starting a new job this week hasn’t phased me. Normally I’d be wracked with anxiety and kept up all night with voices but actually my voices are tolerable and I can sleep very well – from 10/11pm until 6, which is unbelievable.

So over the course of unemployment which has caused serious mood problems and a lot of depressive moments, I’ve managed to cope without any medication; zopiclone; lorazepam; without diazepam and without antipsychotics OR self medication with alcohol or drugs.

Even if it has a placebo effect with the faith I’ve placed in it, the CBD oil has been doing me good.

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