Sunday, October 5, 2014

Hard to breathe... A Commentary

Warning: Here lies darkness...

We get so down on people who are depressed and suicidal for not asking for help, but when it comes to it, do we realise just how hard it is to say those three words?
Do people who have never been there know how those words get stuck in your throat, unable to move and making it impossible to breath?
Do they know the pain of reaching out, only to be made to feel as if you were a burden for speaking of these horrible dark things and ruining their day?
Do they know that you feel selfish for asking them to hear, really hear, what you have you say?
Do they know that really you're just waiting for them to notice how you are not dealing with life?
Do they know the pain of having your every effort dismissed as if it were worthless, making it even hard to open your mouth and tell them the pain they are (likely without meaning to) causing you?
Do they just assume you are cold and distant because you have nothing to say, not realising that if maybe they asked you why, you might tell the truth instead of just saying that you're fine?
Depression chokes us. It tells us the lie that we are a burden on the world, that we are being selfish for wanting to talk about it out loud with someone, that what we are doing is making their lives that little bit darker and harder yo deal with. Depression shows us for who we are, and those vulnerabilities and truth make other people afraid of us.
One day a year we ask people if they are ok... Maybe we should ask more than that and actually listen to everything they are communicating with us, from their words, to the non verbal communication.
Because it is so easy to say that we are fine, that we are okay when people ask us, because our depression allows us to shape those lies, because it knows that people will accept them at face value,
The real fight is to go beyond the choking sensation and look someone in the eye and tell them that no, you are not okay and if they can/will listen, you might be able to fight your inner demons long enough to express the words that you need to say.

Wednesday, May 21, 2014

Sneak peek of upcoming project

We were taken on a tour of the facility.

We saw the rows of beds where participants were bound to as their bodies adjusted to the hardware. The stench of fear was overpowering, smelling akin to human bodily waste. The sheets on the bed were messed, as if the facility had been abandoned on that last day.

We went to the Procedure Chamber, where our looks of revulsion were barely mirrored in those horrible shiny blue tiles that were cracked under their film of mildew. The smell of excrement was strong in this room, wafting to out nostrils from the rotting, sodden mattress on the bed in the middle of that room. A dish of lights to shine down on people hung from an angle in the ceiling. Several of those globes were cracked or completely missing. The dish itself was tarnished.

This was not a space to linger in.

(C) Patricia Kekewick 2014

Saturday, May 3, 2014

On the train ride home...

It was the jewel that got my attention first, not the silver lacework setting or the long chain that it hung on. I only had eyes for that large, red, multi-faceted stone.
I told myself that it had to be a fake stone. I thought that no one would wear something like that in a town like this if it was real.
Then, to distract myself, I looked closer at the setting. I really paid attention to that silver, metal lacework. It was an unusual design, a unique one. One such as only few people ever wear it.
Whoever this woman was, she was either a brave sort of stupid or someone very dangerous.
It couldn't be, I told myself, forcing my eyes to the phone in my hands. I lifted it as if checking a message and snapped a photo of her to show my friends.
Then I dropped the phone back into my bag and went to looking out the train window as if I thought the back yards we passed by were utterly compelling.
I couldn't wait to show my friends that I had finally seen one of Them.

Monday, March 24, 2014

On you marks, get set...

It's almost Camp NaNoWriMo time and because I am super organised, sometimes, I am getting my ideas together so that I can add another 35 000 words to Dark Destiny, bringing it to almost 80 000 words.
I am getting my picture prompts, one sentence ideas and character sketches ready.
So much busy.
So many words.

Tuesday, January 7, 2014

It's the end of the year as I know it...

2013 is drawing to a close and I thought I'd share some of my personal milestones with you all (both major and minor)...
* read over 25o individual books
* submitted manuscripts to publishers
* participated in Nanowrimo 2nd year in a row, getting to the 50000 word point
Holding 3 jobs at the one time, one for more than a year!

Tuesday, August 6, 2013

Back To Where It Feels Bad

How do you explain to someone that the reason you're there is because you feared being there in the first place?
I am in the process of signing up with the job network again (3rd time's a charm apparently) and one of the first questions they will ask, before begrudging my educational background, is why I flunked my last interview. It's a valid question and it has a simple answer: I was anxious about ending up in the very place that I inevitably ended up. I knew it was a possibility that I might end up back in the system and so I was plagued by that insecurity. How can you perform well, knowing that you will end up in a place where your mental health is treated like a child's plaything or is analysed by people with no more psychological insights than your average Dr Philip viewer? It is all a little too much. The fact that after I interviewed so badly, I went back and performed the same job that I'd interviewed for was a hard task, but I am a professional, so that is what I did. Same as when I have been called in to fill in for someone in the same role since. I bear no grudges to my interviewers. It isn't their fault I lack the capability to speak positively about myself or represent myself confidently.
So, that's where I am, back to where it just feels bad.

Monday, September 10, 2012

World Suicide Prevention Day 2012 Post

“Please stop talking about this. I don’t want to hear about it…” I have heard this in relation to both my battles with depression and my battles with looking for work in a world that isn’t fair or responsive to my applications. I kind of wonder if these people really know what they’re saying or asking? So, what could this be interpreted as? To a mind plagued by the muddle of depression and anxious, self doubting thoughts, they might perceive that their words are not worth being mentioned or heard, that people really don’t want to hear about it, lest they feel some sort of responsibility to help. Thinking along these lines, they may eventually stop talking about it altogether, for fear of constant negative comments to be thrown back at them. These comments are not helpful, and can sometimes cause deeper wounds than the person intends. For most people, their intention is not to harm, it is to present an aspect of the world that those in dark places cannot access, however harsh those words can appear. At what point though is this helping, instead of mere bullying someone into thinking the ‘right’ way instead of accepting that people need a place to vent, a place to express the light and dark that they feel plagued by. What happens when people stop talking about the darkness within them? Nothing. You think that they’re better, that they must be getting help, but it is nothing of the sort. They’re still dealing with it, away from your negative influence, still trying to prove that they have something offer to the world, but they’re still falling apart on the inside on a regular basis because they have to do it alone, believing that to ask for help is considered ‘wrong’ and it’s asking other people to ‘support’ them in ways they’re not prepared to. Even if your intention is to help, it can be the wrong thing to do to make this big presentation of what you think people should be doing to ‘get better’. You can’t possibly know the true depths of that person’s suffering, or of where they have been or the path that they may already been on, and your words might just be that extra push down the wrong way. It’s fair enough to say that I’m not good at asking for help with my mental health issues. I still have low self esteem, a self worth that, were it counted by numbers would be almost zero, and a history of self destructive thinking. And yet, despite all that, I still try. I try to make my life better. Yes, I still get frustrated when things don’t work out the way I had hoped they would. I make comments about it on social media, only to suffer a negative backlash and accusations of not trying hard enough, but these people only know a quarter of the story. They are looking through lenses at only part of the picture. The total solution isn’t as easy as they believe it is. They do not live the life that I have, they do not deal with harsh realities in the same way because they choose not to. They don’t know the true impact of their words because I don’t share it with them. I don’t talk about the true darkness that I go through because, simply put, I don’t want to burden people with it. I don’t want them to pity me because aspects of my life kind of sucks. This post was written in relation to Write Love On Your Arm day on September 1O. On this day, people across the world will write the word ‘love’ on their arms as an acknowledgement of the pain of the sufferers of mental health issues such as self harm and suicidal thoughts and to raise awareness of this ongoing issue.