Voices In My Head

Lost in the walls of my mind
Lost all alone with these venomous inner voices that reverberate inside my damaged mind
They scream they bellow when i loom at my ghastly visage in the mirror
They scream freak ugly scum as i shudder

These voices bark at me in the night
They tell me to kill myself
They drag me down into the mire they make me feel worthless
As the voices grow more boisterous as my self loathing intensifies I descend into a vicious cycle of suicidal thoughts

I cant sleep cant escape these inner voices that torment me
I want to make these acerbic voices fade away
I hear them when i interact with strangers they engender a feeling of so paranoia

Voices like savage barks from a wild dog haunt me in my perennial alienation and clinical depression
I want to muffle these voices but they are unrelenting i cant abate these voices
Barking and howling preventing me from breaking out of my malaise

I am lost in my darkness with only these vicious howls of torment for company
Nobody to hug to kiss to share laughter to nullify these voices in my mental ill head
I scream for these voices to cease torturing me
They carry on advising me to end my vapid pathetic life these voices grow more vociferous as my illness solidifies in my introverted personality

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My Depression

My depression isn’t romantic its mind numbing boredom
Its waking up aching in pain with this weight in your bones
Its being able to leave my house for fear of a panic attack
Its eschewing looking into the mirror for fear of seeing the monstrous creature that will materialise in the bathroom mirror

Its going days without sleep climbing up the walls with anxiety
Its a perennial feeling of deadness living with emotionless numbed sensation
Its cutting my arms my legs to feel alive to feel a tactile sensation
Its laying in bed ignoring phone calls cutting out contact from the outside world

My depression isn’t a profusion of self pitying tears
Its quiet never engaging in effusive loquacious conversations
Its haunched shoulders eyes fixed on the ground
Its not being able to concentrate as the mind atrophies from the severity of my depression

I never disclose my depression i keep it hidden in the walls of my introverted mind
Nobody wants to hear my laments of emotional torment
The pain the god damn fucking pain is slowly killing me
My depression is like nuclear radiation infecting my organs over many years until one day this cancer of depression will drive me into the black hole of death

The Darkest Day Part 2

After a eternity as me and my grieving stoic father sat languidly in the funeral car directly behind the hearse containing my mothers decaying corpse. Then the rest of the funeral attendees got inside their respective vehicles and we could proceed to the church. It was a long arduous journey as we travelled at a agonising snaillike pace. My father and i sat in complete silence never uttering a single word to each other. I just sat with my haunted eyes observing the grim bleak landscape of my hometown on a drab soggy October morning. I looked at the heavens no sign of sun just a skyline covered entirely with bleak grey clouds threatening to erupt in a torrential downpour at any moment. For now though as we traversed to the church the rain ceased falling. My eyes were fixed on the road not wanting to look into the abyss of sadness that was my fathers despairing eyes.

I could see the church appearing on the road ahead. Dread and anxiety permeated my entire body i tried diligently to hold back the tears not show the world my father my family my mums friends the depths of my pain. My empty stomach rumbled i felt faint as if I could collapse or throw up at any moment. The colour drained from my face my hands were shacking i tried to maintain a control of my body despite the horrific reality of witnessing my mums funeral at the tender age of 13. My didn’t seem to notice my mini anxiety attack or a feeling of nausea i managed to conceal that from him. He was too lost in the darkness of his tortured mind living in his head pretending to camouflage his emotions by maintain a austere veneer.

He pulled up outside the church the hearse was their my mums body inside the funeral car. I looked at it intensely as the cavalcade of funeral mourners descended on the church to attend a forlorn religious ceremony. Again i felt overcome with a weakness i gritted my teeth bit my lip to hold back the waterfall of emotion that wanted to be get out. However i was a stereotypical middle class repressed english girl who was constitutionally unable to disclose my pain. Like my father and mum I concealed my emotional torment in the recesses of my fractured psyche.

Then it began the designated pallbearers we’re ready to carry my mums funeral casket into the church I looked at the casket with horror then i was told kindly by my father to go inside the church and sit in the front row. I walked inside this cavernous majestic church in my black gothic dress feeling so vulnerable. My lips quivered as i sauntered inside not knowing what to do with my body or how appropriately conduct myself. I perceived all these eyes on me judging my comportment on this dreadful occasion. Finally I reached my destination on the front row with my Irish grandparents from my mums side and my mums sister for company. Then i heard the sound of the pallbearers including my father struggling to carry my mums cumbersome casket. They huffed and puffed carry it under great strain but eventually were successful in carrying the casket onto the altar situated behind the priest. My father sat next to me as this scared solemn ceremony began. The priest gave a eloquent impassioned eulogy paying homage to my mum a charismatic affable extrovert who died so a tragically at the tender age of 39. He lamented her passing in his opening remarks as the fellow mourners were brought to tears with his kind words.

The priest said “Receive the Lord’s blessing. The Lord bless you and watch over you. The Lord make his face shine upon you, and be gracious to you. The Lord look kindly on you and give you peace; In the Name of the Father, and of the Son + and of the Holy Spirit.”Congregation: ” Amen.”

Then he delivered his poignant remarks that moved the majority of the congregation to tears apart from me who was paralysed with shock throughout the duration of this ceremony.

The priest said “. We are gathered here today to pay homage to the live of corrina wood who died tragically at the age of 39. She died unexpectedly in her home. Corrina was a warm affable women who brought colour and light into the lives of anybody she became acquainted with. She is survived by a loving respectable husband and a loving daughter. He cannot hide or deny the tragedy of her death to die so young not in her sleep or from a terminal illness but from self inflicted death. We must not resort to anger at her desperate decision to end her life. We cannot be laden with guilt at not recognising the signs of her internal pain. We must honour her life cherish the happy memories of a well lived enrich life. Friends and family of corrina must not let her memory fade away always carry her indelible memories in her hearts. I as a priest do not blame castigate corrina for her decision to end her life i feel a weight of immense sadness at losing a fellow parishioner. We have to remember all the joy the love she bestowed upon all of us. We must see the death of corrina as a example that life is finite precarious and precious. It will be over sooner than we think that whilst we are alive we must be diligent in savouring the luscious fruits of life and taking time to smell the roses. Yes today and the coming weeks months we will mourn the lamentable passing of corrina but never forget her memory the iridescent light she shone her devotion to her family. Her assiduous commitment to help the poor through her tireless charity work and her passion for music. Their are countless stories I’ve heard of past students that corrina vehement love of classical music impacted their life. I’ve heard anecdotes from family members of her infinite love impacted their life. I conclude this initial eulogy in never forget corrina whether you’re a lifelong friend or a dotting husband or loving daughter or a distant relative”

He concluded his impassioned unrestrained emotional charged erudite eulogy I looked around and saw a sea of teary eyed mourners. Whilst I wanted desperately to unleash my grief but remained a austere demure demeanour holding back the tears. My father like myself kept his lip stiff never breaking the stoic persona. I was paralysed with shock unable to adequately process the grief feeling almost catatonic. Wanting to escape the hell of witnessing my mothers funeral at the tender fragile age of 13…….

Disorder

Lost and confused in a alienated state
Alone in the hell of my tortured existence
Nobody cares there’s nobody who understands who knows about my pain
I want to reach and feel a connection to have another soul hold my mind hug me tightly and share my disorder

I’m ill a body paralysed with anxiety with suicidal thoughts
I endure weekly panic attacks where I’m unable to vacate my flat
I drink i smoke a profusion of illicit and legal drugs to numb my pain
Then in states of intoxicated fervent i cut myself to have a cathartic release then i carry waterfalls of tears

My anxiety disorder is crippling i cant breathe i cant sleep
I cant have friends or experience anything resembling a normal social life
I’m imprisoned in my tortured fractured mind living ensconced in the tiny enclave of my dank flat
Friends vehemently persistently request my company i have to decline the anxiety is too onerous I retreat into protracted states of isolation

Nobody knows of my hell its all a dark secret
The panic attacks the suicidal predilections the bouts of self mutilation the insomnia the self loathing all is concealed in my introverted introspective personality
I’m sick a dying broken soul laying awake in my cold bed
Living a sad life bereft of human contact or love wanting to divulge my disorder to a fellow sufferer of anxiety

My Mums Suicide Elegy

Its been 6 years exactly since that dreaded fateful day when me and my dad discovered my mums lifeless haunted body hanging from the top of our living room doorway. The memory the images the wounds of that day blight my mind. I can recall arriving home feeling this teenage weariness after a long day at school followed by a tedious cello lesson and seeing the grisly sight of my mum hanging their. On that day I collapsed into a heap on the floor unable to fathom the reality that my mum killed herself. My father stood there static in a state of paralysis we never cried he held his tears inside of him like a stereotypical repressed english man.

Even though its been 6 long years i can vividly recollect every moment of that day the tears the police and coroner showing up. The contrasting reaction of my mums friends to my dad who descended upon our home to console me and my dad.

Today though in the seclusion of my bedroom I’m carrying on a sacred private tradition of dedicating the evening to my mums memory. I’m sitting on the floor of my bedroom with a variety of exemplary iconic cello compositions being played on my Bluetooth speakers. I have in my meticulous manner rolled several cannabis joints and have a large bottle of scotch whisky all of which will be devoured throughout this evening. Its 7 o’clock in the evening time to begin the proceedings time to pay homage to my wonderful mother who died so tragically. With tears in my eyes as the Elgar cello concerto reverberates across the walls of my intimate eclectically decorated room i down two shots of premium whisky. Then i begin smoking my potent psychoactive joint that hopefully will elicit the happy memories of my mum from my childhood. Then i garb a hold of my suicide note which was her final thoughts in which she delineated the reasons why she had kill herself. My hands are shacking as i begin reading this crinkled torn final reflections on life on death on the hell of living with a untreated secret mental illness. I wipe a tear from my left cheek and blow my nose and begin to slowly read my mums forlorn suicide elegy.

“ Dear family,

I am writing this letter to tell you why i killed myself. If your reading this you probably have discovered my dead body hanging bereft of life. I want to say I’m profoundly sorry for the pain for the misery my selfish self destructive decision has engendered. You have every right to be upset and enraged by my decision to terminated my time on earth. Please understand you have no idea whats its like enduring depression have this hurricane of sadness swirling around your mind day after day month after month. Having this dysmorphia with life having no way of articulating the despair that has slowly poisoning me for years. The shame of my illness hiding my emotional torment behind a simpering smile. As i write this note i am glancing over a collection of my photographs seeing the fake plastic smile that conceals a hidden illness. The smile the laughing behind those eyes i am dying i am screaming on the inside desperate to disclose my sickness that’s rotting me from the inside. I’m sure you are completely ignorant of my sporadic bouts of depression which i mask with my gregarious effervescent personality. I have since i was a teenager become adept at masking this illness never crying in public always making up elaborate excuses to prevent my secret my shame from ever getting out. You are entirely unaware that on numerous other instances i have planned to kill myself and backed out at the last moment. Even going as far to compose a verbosely worded note then destroying the evidence when at the last moment i found a reason to carry on existing. Now though its too late there’s no reason to stay alive even your unconditioned eternal love won’t save me from the jaws of death. I want death i want to cease breathing oxygen the hell of being me being 40 living the terminal loneliness the torture has killed me. I cant speak to anybody I’m unable to be vulnerable to divulge my condition even to my father my beautiful angelic daughter my long suffering kind husband the love of my life. I’m sick of it sick and tired of the piss and shit of life of i cant endure the cancer of depression anymore. I’m cant sleep i drink to excess I’ve turned down vehement requests from my closets comrades for nights out when I’m at home all alone a ocean of sadness flows from my eyes. Then in your empathetic company i hide the sadness put on a plastic persona of sanity whilst I’m drowning inside all the time. I know I’m a stupid selfish bitch I’m sick I’m dying from my depression its left bereft of joy unable to function. Aria my beautiful precious daughter know that i love you and that I’m crying looking at images of you as a precious baby. Aria if you feel ill please I’m begging speak to somebody to a friend to a doctor don’t hide repress the dark thoughts don’t live in purgatory like me. Micheal the love of my life don’t blame this on yourself. I never stopped loving you gave me a home you gave me the strength to carry on but now the pain is too severe to endure. I want you to never forget me cherish the seldom joyous memories we shared and please I’m imploring to not commit a deleterious act please don’t commit suicide. Love you forever i have to die I have to end the endless nightmare of being me”

My face was soaked in sadness as I concluded my mums despairing final thoughts. The cannabis intensified the melancholic sensation of today reading my mums suicide lament. The Elgar cello concerto hit the crescendo as the cello combined with the cannabis and my reading of the elegy rendered unconsolable. I cried I held my head in my hands as i perused a collage of my mums most transcendent images. There was no anger just a deep seething regret at the universe for taking my mum. I had determined to spend the rest of the evening getting high listening to my mums treasured music this is the day i pay tribute to the women who brought me into this cruel unforgiving world.

Death

Laying prostrate almost comatose in my bed dreaming of death
Sick and twisted thought are ruminating in my mind
I cant move from the pain of this depression i want death i want to be nothing
I am already dead as the emotion has been vanquished from my body as this dead sensation permeates my entire being

Dreaming of all the myriad of ways of dying
Dreaming of dying in my sleep to never awaken to a cold world that has forsaken me
I have nothing no love no real family friends never call anymore
All i have is the fantasy of not existing

I lay horizontal for hours with a body burdened with sadness musing about the concept of death to not exist
To be a dream a distant fading memory to be pure nothingness to be dust
I want death there’s no reason to carry on existing living so listlessly trudging through life in endless cycles of abject despair
In my darkest dreams i take the sweet pill of suicide and get taken away by a dark shadowy masked figure he takes me away from the land of the living into the serenity the nirvana of death

2AM Phone Call To The Salvation Army Crisis Hotline

Its 2 am in the morning my hands are shacking covered in blood from another masochistic bout of self harm. I’m laying on my kitchen floor with a razor blade in my right hand my left arm looks ravaged with several vertical deep lacerations on my underarm. My pain receptors are dulled and numb from the excess of whisky i have devoured throughout this lonesome evening. I cant feel the pain of my wounds that will happen tomorrow on top of a punishing hangover. I’m in a dark place at my wits end seriously considering ending my life. Elgar cello concerto echoes throughout the thin walls of my flat playing on my Bluetooth speakers. As I hear the heart wrenching sublime sound of Jacqueline du pre playing the cello with adroitness tears stream down my ashen face devoid of beauty.

I’m crying uncontrollable unable to control my breathing. Breathing in and out at a frantic rate I repeat the phrase in my hand I can’t breathe i cant breathe for several minutes. I feel like death the dread is overpowering the suicidal thoughts overpower my intoxicated mind. I’ve spent all Saturday with the curtains shut in my flat and wearing my crimson silk pyjamas. I commenced drinking my whisky and coke cocktail around 2 in the afternoon wanting to nullify the pain i been subsisting with for the previous several weeks. I cant bare it anymore I’m a 23 year old living alone living with severe depression with a impairing social anxiety disorder and a myriad of other mentally ill symptoms indicative of a long term untreated psychosis. I have neglected important pivotal friendships due to the severity of my social anxiety and the depression has compounded my desolate suicidal disposition. I feel like such a fucking loser a freak who’s been condemned to a life of abject misery and being sequestered from the human race from the kindness and love of strangers due to my disorders.

In my paralytic condition wanting to end my life with the razor blade hovering perilously above my wrist i take a last chance and call the suicidal army crisis hotline. I can’t call any of my family or a distant friend who are still lodged in my iPhone contact list who i still consider a friend. To bare my soul to unload my desperate fragile mental state to somebody I know fills my heart with dread. Especially calling them at 2 in the morning in my delirious drug frenzied state. Throughout the years i have carefully concealed the depths of my pain my anxiety my suicidal predilections my self harm from anybody with whom who knows me who cares for me. Hence i conclude to call of the kind soft spoken sympathetic listening operators with whom I’ve spoken with on numerous occasions on the past several years. This time though i want to die i need to be reminded given any reason why I should remain alive to be part of the living.

My hands are shacking profusely my lips are quivering snot is flowing from my nose I’m a drunken mess wanting to hear a solemn voice in my hell. Dialling the number still on the kitchen floor slumped in a drunken stupor actually terrified of speaking to a volunteer and divulging my desire to end my life. The number rings three times a volunteer answers my forlorn call with a hushed dulcet voice that immediately assuages my anxiety. “Hello how can i help you”
She initiates our conversation. There’s a awkward silence of 10 seconds before I gather myself before i control my breathe and blow my nose.
“ hello mam i want to kill myself i cant stand the pain anymore I’ve got a razor blade and i want to slash my wrists.” My voice cracks i can hardly speak as i utter these words and pronounce my thoughts to another soul. The listener responds with stereotypical calmness trying diligently to appease me to convince that not take a deleterious action. “ please put down the razor blade try to calm down how long have you been feeling suicidal or depressed.” She utters in a unwavering calm manner as i acquiesce to her simple demand placing the blade on my blood stained lilo kitchen floor. I respond opening myself to another human being allowing for once an person into my inner world.
“ I have been living with this depression for years living with anxiety but for the past several months the hurt of existing has grown more severe. Everyday i think about killing myself. There’s nobody in my life who cares about me i am alone in the darkness i cant endure it anymore i just want to end the pain of my pathetic life” I break down and become inconsolable with rivers if sadness cascading down my face . My hands collapse into my tear drenched face I’m still encamped on the floor with arms coated in my blood i wait patiently for a response to my verbose declaration of my fractured psyche.
“Please calm down I’m listening to you understand there are people I’m certain in your life who care for you. I’m sure you have friends and family who would be devastated if you committed suicide” There was a uncomfortable silence as the amiable listener waited for my response. I responded barely able to articulate my thoughts with a voice stammering and quivering.
“Tttankyou for your www words i jjust nneeded somebody to talk to i know i need help that i need therapy i need to speak to my friends about my dire emotional state” I was amazed at how lucid i was in in my intoxicated suicidal mind space.

The listener realised her compassionate words had dissuaded me from ending my life that this was a despairing cry for help in the bleak hours of a Sunday morning. She concluded our brief conversation have sage words of advice.
“ I’m promising you that you’ll feel better in the morning. You’ve taken the first steps in dealing with your mental illness actually speaking to another person showing that bravery. I’m asking you to talk about your depression your anxiety with your mother and father they care for you and then take the next scary steps of speaking with a therapist who will ameliorate your condition. I’m proud of you that you put down the razor blade and can you please promise me you wont end your life” She concluded as I responded tentatively
“Thank you for hearing for taking my call for listening attentively to my lamentable words. Its so cathartic to talk to a stranger to realise I’m not alone in this cold world that somebody cares about me. Thank you mam I promise i wont kill myself”
We then in unison said our goodbyes as i terminated by 2am call to the Salvation Army Suicide hotline. I sat there for minutes afterwards on the floor with a strange feeling of elation pulsating in my body. I got up sauntered languidly to the bathroom and removed the dried blood stains from my hair and in my listless drunken stupor applied a profusion of disinfectant to my self infected wounds. Still with my pain receptors numbed from the excessive of alcohol i felt no pain. Walked to my bedroom deciding to mop up the excess of blood on my kitchen floor tomorrow.

I lay in my bed for minutes feeling like a human being that matters the loneliness had temporarily dissipated in that pivotal early morning interaction.