At An Impasse

November 20, 2019

I doubt anyone will read this but I want to make a record in case anything happens.  Desperate times call for desperate measures.

First some context. I suffer from a ‘severe and enduring mental illness’ called Schizoaffective Disorder. (I have no time to explain its symptoms here but ppl can google it.) If you don”t mind I will refer to myself in the third person. (It’s easier that way). She was neglected for years by the NHS and then in 2014 her father died and she spent nearly a year slipping in and out of a state of psychosis and extreme changes in mood.

Eventually her GP realised how much she had deteriorated and she was finally admitted to hospital and was at last given the treatment she so desperately needed. An apology was issued (her mother, who lives in another city, had spent the entire year phoning them, informing them of her deteriorating state of mind) and it was acknowledged in writing that ‘(I) do not think this (illness) has been adequately treated at any point in the recent past’. They were also informed that this would never be allowed to happen again.

But now it *is* happening again. In May of this year she was unceremoniously discharged from services, apparently because she had ‘failed to engage in interventions’. (Whatever that means) She was also told that it was a matter of resources, although this has since been denied. She was informed of this in a letter which basically said ’goodbye and good luck’. This decision had been partially made by a new consultant psychiatrist who had seen her a grand total of one time. There was no preparation made for this discharge, no referrals to other agencies that could help, just a letter. She was despatched into the care of her GP with whom she had not had a working relationship for five long years.

These are the facts:

The fact that someone likes being asleep more than they like being awake

The fact that they see their dreams, however horrific, as preferable to being awake

The fact that someone never leaves the house, not even to get food

The fact that someone self neglects to the point of not washing properly for weeks

The fact that medication has reduced efficacy & psychotic symptoms are returning

The fact that this person does not see a real life human being, apart from those who deliver her food, for months at a time.

The fact that she finds it impossible to interact with other members of her own species, even on line

All this time devoid of human companionship when it has been established that this degree of extreme isolation can affect long term cognitive function

The fact that as every day passes her chances of returning to a normal life and interacting productively with society are reduced.

The fact that this person no longer sees any point in life itself

The fact that as each day passes this person is deteriorating further

One would imagine that these ’facts’ would be a cause of grave concern for those who are responsible for this person’s care. But they are not. She telephones the duty team (as she has a right to do under Section 117) and is met with bewilderment (you can’t be that bad if you can eat), indifference, barely disguised contempt and even hostility. She gently suggests that maybe a brief spell in hospital would be sufficient to get her back on an even keel, even a slight increase in anti psychotic medication could help. This is what has happened in the past but she is informed that this ‘is not the the way things work any more’ and that to be hospitalised ‘one of us has to see you’ but they will not see her. And so we are at an impasse. And every day she loses touch with reality even more. She does not know how this will end.

Found an Adorable Pic of Bella the Cat

November 19, 2019

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August 30, 2019

Mother

July 29, 2018

Decades pass
And miraculously
she is still alive
By the grace of some
Benevolent God
She survives

Ground down by the weight
Of the enemy within
Year after year
They tore layers off her,
Peeling off the veneer
Revealing a face like cracked china
Ready to split in two
Ever stoical it regenerates,
Healing itself.

But her eyes are sinking
Loose teeth clatter in her mouth
Time etches creases on the skin
Yet two men fight over het:
‘Gentlemen please,’
The policeman cries
As they prepare
To tear one another to pieces
And she allows herself
A small, secret smile

Old Novel

July 29, 2018

A Day on an Eating Disorders Unit:

First page of an old novel

(Warning it’s pretty terrible but nonetheless…)

Images of the Edible

She was dreaming of food.

It was all that Gemma could dream about.  It filled up most of the space in her head. Sleeping and waking, her mind was stuffed with images of the edible.  Chips- hot and salty.  Apples- cool and crisp, straight from the fridge.  Corn flakes, covered in sugar and immersed in milk.

At every mealtime Gemma heard the footsteps of her fellow patients pounding past her door, heading for the dining room.  They seemed to live for food.  The dining room was one room Gemma was determined never to enter again.

They brought her a tray laden with food three times a day.  Breakfast.  Dinner.  Supper.  Every day.  The food they brought her always remained uneaten.  She didn’t even bother to remove the covers to see what culinary delights they had brought her.  The aroma was enough.

She wanted it.  But she could not have it.  It was desirable but forbidden.  It was poison.  Sugar-coated cyanide.

Instead she was sustained by memories of epic binges.

Three times a day, every day, the nurses came to remove the tray with barely suppressed sighs of disappointment and looks that said, ‘Eat.  It’s not so hard.  Just pick up a fork.  Spear a broccoli floret and raise it to your lips.  Then chew and Swallow.  Simple.’

But they didn’t know Gemma.  They didn’t know that if she were to start eating again she would never stop.  She felt like she could consume the entire world.  She pictured herself as some obese God, grabbing planets and stuffing them into her mouth, their juices running down her chin. She felt as though she could have munched her way through the entire universe.  But she still would not have been satisfied. Her appetite was insatiable.

Saboteurs (Repost)

July 28, 2018

Eye to Eye With Their Ally

Saboteurs

In the milky light of the bleak dawn
Agents and saboteurs awake
Preparing to assassinate
Some dark lieutenant
Of the occupying power

They will not be acclaimed
They will not even be named
They will remain
Unknown, a footnote
They dislocate our fate

We wait. Where are they now?
Missing, presumed dead,
He said. Martyred
Wanton devastation
The butchery of me.

They took lessons
In the art of destruction
Sabotage is a craft
They were taught
How to kill
With their bare hands

A veil was drawn
Over their future
They did not know
What their mission was
Until the final moment

When they were despatched
By air and by sea
Smuggled in by gunboat
And parachute
Eye to eye with their ally,
With their enemy
Upstart amateurs
Armed only with cyanide
Inside a suicide pill.

Dedicated to member of SOE
(see soon to be established on Drowning In Academia)

Falling

July 26, 2018

I do not remember my dreams any more. I prefer being asleep to being awake. My life is over.

Frail dreams fade,
Shrinking away from the hot, bright light
Of the day
Until evening falls
And they rise once more

(By day
As I sit in the classroom
Only half awake
I sense a presence,
A thin wire
Linking me to them)

My incorporeal allies
Those who do not walk,
But fly. Soaring through the skies
The caress me with their wings
They are God’s precious things.

Breaking the Spell

July 25, 2018

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Breaking the Spell
What does it take to break the spell
To rupture the webbing
That wraps itself around me
The world is waiting for me
Waiting to trip me up
I am no sleeping beauty
No prince will hack his way
Through dense forest to rescue me
I have been holding my breath,
Starved myself half to death
Waiting for him, in vain
He will never come again
No one will come again
For they know not what they do
For they know not what they do

Quotes About Freedom of Speech

April 7, 2018

Will elaborate.shortly:

“If liberty means anything at all, it means the right to tell people what they do not want to hear.”
― George Orwell

“The moment you say that any idea system is sacred, whether it’s a religious belief system or a secular ideology, the moment you declare a set of ideas to be immune from criticism, satire, derision, or contempt, freedom of thought becomes impossible.”
[Defend the right to be offended (openDemocracy, 7 February 2005)]”
― Salman Rushdie

“I may not agree with what you say, but I shall defend to my death your right to say it”

Evelyn Beatrice Hall

“I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue, unexercised and unbreathed, that never sallies out and sees her adversary, but slinks out of the race where that immortal garland is to be run for, not without dust and heat. ”

John Milton, Areopagitica

I now have a Twitter account: @mariecat73

and a Facebook account: Marie Louise Noonan.

please come and join me there

Love ‘rie

one thing, I wrote, just one thing and I lost a subscriber. What is going on?

 

 

 

This Is What I Think of the Human Race

March 20, 2018

 

 

https://www.ditchthelabel.org/are-they-really-your-friend-15-signs-that-suggest-otherwise/


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