Creative Writing
Dae yae know, ma pals got it.
So his the wumin two doors doon.
Ma sister hid it but she got better.
The teacher at school talks aboot it.
Even ma wee mammie hid it an she used tae laugh her heid aff telling us aboot it.
Mind you mama wis always mental.
Ma new born definitely his got it
Yae can see it in her eyes as soon as yae look at her.
Songs hiv been sung aboot it
Poems written aboot it wae fancy words naebidy knows
Films as well.
Can yae guess whit am oan aboot??
Answers on a postcard tae Mental Health Awareness, Glasgow.
All will be answered accordingly.
By Anon
I feel like shouting, not at
anyone, but just to relieve my
frustration with the way things are
just now.
The first time I asked for help I
had got to the point of not wanting
to be here, the guilt and sense of
being a failure was so bad, I felt
a burden. I felt the doctor just
gave me meds and sent me on my way.
I felt defeated.
I finally found a GP who
understood, someone to tell the
truth to and I'm finally finding
myself after a lot of years trying
to understand that my mental health
is an illness like any other.
I feel hope at last.
By Anon
Powerless viewing pain
watching unfold from behind
Scary lost silence
Thoughts distorted
Thousands of shredded pieces
Restoration essential
Was lost yesterday
Terrified of no today
Hang on for tomorrow
Looking everywhere
Detecting nothing nowhere
Astray beginnings
Behind this smile worn
Fractured uncertainty, doubt
No one sees the truth
applied like make-up
a smile smeared across masking
numb isolation
Depression hidden
Packed neatly behind a smile
Hidden depression
By Anon
The midnight magic's calling
People United, sharing their grief
Hearts which are broken grasping threads of love from one another
The square is buzzing with the sound of its folk
Band playing
Glaswegians singing as we express our emptiness
Testaments given from scarred loved ones
Sharing their personal experience
How do you go on?
Someone asks
How can you still breathe?
Another may say
Millions of questions and self-giving answers that no one can understand
Candles alight giving hope for the future and in memory of every precious life lost
A most wonderful powerful sound
Souls unified in voice
"Nothing compares to you."
By Agnes McEwan
Fractured Myriad
Turning red Grey black on black
Long Jagged journey
Light Blue comes upon
Rainbow hues make appearance
helpfully hope heads
Careful is taken
Fulfilment a gift to self
Good road resilience
By Anon.
Each breath inhaled chokes
This knot cuts deep
Into the stomach wall
and dry blood coagulates stinging every cell
Every second brings despair and confusion.
Tears are my bedfellows while sleep deprivation, encaptures and feeds the senses
The finality of death
Rips at my once joyful heart.
By Agnes McEwan
All of this happened in a place where the only sound was a soft wind blowing through bushes.
Afterwards, they told me I didn’t have to say a thing,
He had told them everything,
I could stay silent.
They thought they were being kind.
Nowadays
If I talk about it
With professionals, or friends or the nosey,
They sit and they listen
In silence.
And that silence joins all the other silences
And a bubble forms.
Inside the bubble is me and
All the words I’ve never been allowed to say
And a noise not unlike that made by the kindness
Of strangers a noise like a soft wind hushing through bushes.
DAME DAVID A ALLAN
Be Happy: It is all that matters.
I'm an MS warrior
And I know I'm not alone
We battle as the sun comes up
But I'm not on here to moan
These are words of gratitude
I sometimes forget to say
Thank you for the help I get every blessed single day
I’m very very lucky
For my family and friends
Are always there to help me
Before this painful day ends
Legs don't work eyes can't see
Hands won't grab
But I'm still me
Fog falls down I've things to do
Okay mum I'm holding you
My brother is a legend
My daughter is a gem
Jordan is an angel
My heartfelt thanks to them
Peter made me laugh a lot
When I was feeling blue
So yes I'm very lucky
And I hope that you are too.
By Agnes McEwan
It's all in my head, or so I thought. Deep in my tissue running through my veins. The pain in my heart is so loud, Yet the noise is mute. Stuck in a knot How constantly I've fought to rid this knot. The only thing that worked was oblivion. To seek such a thing I used to think I could stretch out, spread my wings ‘n fly. But no, all I did was cry. Cry out to the empty space No reply was given to my face. I turned those answers in on self Loathing and despairing Never thought of self-caring. The searching into those empty containers left me lost, confused and numb. Pissed off I couldn't connect my heart, head and tum. I was running scared and Scared running. Nowhere to go, I wasn't even able to ebb and flow
This is it forever, I thought
The constant reminder as I shut my eyes
Blink the same when open.
The sleepless nights followed
Just like the when the smoke bellowed.
Then the nightmares and noises
With the flashbacks
By hell, I was on constant attack.
‘Keep going’ is what I told myself
Life could be worse, or could it?
Then I folded like an envelope
Tired weary and unable to cope.
This hit me like a ton of bricks
Tired and wired my mind played tricks.
‘Is this for real?’, I squealed
I don't know anymore, I just want to be healed.
The nights turned to days
My life was a complete haze
Worse, I thought I was in a craze.
Freefalling in slow motion
All around me this commotion
‘Please God, let me go’, nowhere to turn. I really wanted to be in an urn. My family has been through too much for this.
That would be unfair
I stood with only a stare.
‘What do I do?’
On my knees I surrendered.
The breakthrough came, I found the courage to be vulnerable
Not before the twists and turns.
The pain to gain was clear
I made a commitment to recovery
This was just the start
On mending my broken heart.
Written after an Art Therapy Session. My head was buzzing with lots of things. This is written in its entirety at the time. I do not wish to edit this as knowing me I will end up perfecting it!! This cannot be perfected just like my recovery.
By Jill C C
On the surface,
All is as it seems,
But if you look much deeper,
You will see,
What goes on underneath,
The pain, struggle and tears,
Falling like a storm,
Nobody says,
What nobody knows,
But look a little closer and it’s there,
Hidden beneath the smile and laughter,
Is someone very crushed,
By so many burdens
Would you know?
No.....
Why not?
Cause they hold it in,
All that pain,
If only people knew,
Understood the mind,
Of that human,
Who feels so cold.
By Anon.
Exploring the difficulties of asking for help.
Speaking out about mental health problems being experienced by self or by another person, or someone close to us such as a family member.
Dealing with others viewpoints positive or negative.
Dealing with how we think others might see us.
Having thoughts about and wrestling with; wanting to speak freely in public about mental health problems and thinking about the perceived outcomes, impact on life, and reactions of others.
Trying to access help either professional or from social circles or from community.
Dealing with how the media portrays mental health issues directly related to self or a loved one and or dealing with viewpoints expressed through or on social media platforms such as Twitter or FB directly related to self or a loved one.
Being pigeon holed.
Having your whole self or a loved one defined by, or undermined by, perceptions or reactions of others, who hear you or a loved one is struggling with mental health problems.
Having your whole self or a loved one being defined by or seen as a diagnosis.
Dealing with professionals with opinions or prescribing care regimes or medications I don’t agree with.
Dealing with professionals unable to, (through financial, political, societal, or other constraints), prescribe care regimes or medications I do agree with or want.
Depression doesn't make me sad it makes me frustrated, agitated, guilty, isolated, jaded, fatigued, itchy, short tempered, socially awkward, numb, anxious. Did I mention it doesn't make me sad. It makes me feel guilty, socially awkward, itchy, jaded, numb, short tempered, anxious, fatigued, frustrated, isolated. Constantly.
I hide all this behind my smile.
How does my depression make you feel?
By various Anon.
Trauma is:
Terrifying
Relentless
Awful
Unbearable
Miserable
And..........
Recoverable
It seems incredible but recovery from trauma is possible. Prepare never to be the same person again. Trauma is transformative, recovery is restorative.
However, recovery does not progress in a straight line. It is an organic, holistic process.
Recovery turns like the earth, in orbit, around the self.
As the moon waxes and wanes so recovery will start to move in and out, in and out on the tide of life experience.
Recovery imitates the trees. It lays down roots allowing growth and a new lightness of being.
When the sun comes out, all is well.
All is well is the mantra of recovery. Hold tight to that while gripping the bridge of vines above the forest floor. Become active, accountable, attentive. Allow a safety net of family, friends, faith. community, creativity, connection. A soft landing on leaves, moss, love.
Embrace without judgement all which works for you.
One day you will emerge on the wings of a butterfly, out of an oyster as a pearl, as a phoenix from the fire and in that moment all really will be well.
Margaret Bradley
