Archive for the ‘collective madness’ Category

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

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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/

Fad Diet Friday

February 17, 2018

Dear subs. Or followers. Or whatevers, (I think I shall settle with the latter. Subs sounds way to mundane and I don’t need ‘followers’. I am not Jesus Christ. ) This is why I never use the abomination that is ‘Twitter’; never quite got my head round that one. So ‘Whatevers’ it shall be. No offence intended although it seems that everything you say will offend someone, somewhere on the planet and they will not hesitate to let you know about it. Another strike against Twitter. Call me a Special Snowflake (did I get that one right?) but I am neither brave enough nor masochistic enough to put myself through that.

Yes, after nearly a year I am back or ‘I’mmm back’ as Arnold Schwarzenegger’s character said in The Terminator and what better way to start than a piece called ‘Fad Diet Friday’. Yes, I am aware that it is technically a Saturday but let’s not be excessively pedantic.

Long ago I learnt that on this glorious and miraculous medium called the Internet all things are possible. You see, I am about to embark on what the young people on YouTube are calling a ‘Wright Loss Journey’, only mine is not quite so thrilling as theirs because I have only a stone and a half to lose rather than the standard three to four hundred pounds so my ‘struggle’ pales in comparison. I am no longer the woman I was when this photograph was taken in 2016. Who knew you could body shame yourself? In other words I do not look like this anymore:   https://rielouise.wordpress.com/2015/04/08/in-red/

In 2014 I had a breakdown (the last of many) and I was hospitalised. When my blood work was completed the staff started to panic. My Phlebotomist went crazy and rushed into the office and started to telephone all sorts of people. I could see her through the plexiglass window. As for myself, I was strangely numb. I wondered what all the fuss was about. I think they call this phenomenon ‘La Belle Indifference’ but don’t quote me on that. So I was rushed to hospital in an ambulance devoid of a siren, accompanied by one of the nursing assistant and I was put in a wheelchair ( yes, they do that over here now.) and taken by a porter to a ward in the bowels of the hospital. It was there that I was informed by a very serious looking doctor that I had something called ‘ pernicious anaemia. I had a cannula put into my arm. The young doctor was inexperienced and it took her several attempts to drive the thing home. Halfway through I pleaded: “It’s all right. Don’t bother. Just let me go home and I will eat whatever is necessary to put this right. I was then told that I would have to eat trucks full of iron rich food to rectify the situation I now found myself in, or rather, the situation I had put myself in.

For, without being aware of it I had been on a ridiculously unhealthy crash diet. In 2014 I withdrew from the world. I was almost a recluse. I saw few people, apart from my neighbours, my mother and my best, oldest and most loyal friend. Without knowing it I had lost a substantial amount of weight. And without noticing I was eating the bare minimum needed to keep my self alive. Rice cakes were my main source of sustenance, along with the odd chocolate bar one packet of potato chips.
In short, I lost weight by eating absolute crap. And besides all of this I took no exercise. I would market it if I could remember it. It is this experience that has stimulated my interest in fad diets. And for your benefit, but mostly my own, I shall dive headfirst into the world of nutritional quackery and dissect them, right here on my newly revived blog.

So what, you are probably wondering is this rather incoherent ramble all about. It is just a way of dipping my toe in a sea infested with sharks. Or, in my rather less melodramatic case, a pond infested with sniping goldfish. Like it or not I have returned.

Cool Shades of Blue

May 16, 2017

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The sun, a pale yellow disk in the sky, was going down. She thought of childhood. She thought of freedom. Memories thrust themselves upon her. She did not invite them in, they simply arrived, pale ghosts wandering through her head.

Her swim in the calm sea beneath a serene sky had been all too brief. She scooped up a handful of sand and let it trickle down her leg. She wanted to make this moment forever.

She tried not to think about where the car was taking her -back to the bin. She wanted to sit here, on the back seat, forever, reassured by the comforting rhythm if the motor, travelling into an infinite golden sunset.

A place in which night was banished and sky and sea merged and she immersed herself in their cool shades of blue.

The Chemical Lobotomy

April 23, 2017

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When I was first hospitalized as a teenager, I was, or so I was told, very ill. I was experiencing delusions I would rather not discuss in any detail here. Suffice to say I was only ever a danger to myself, never to others. As a result of this, I was forced to spend six months in the local psychiatric hospital. I was heavily medicated with the most primitive antipsychotic known to man: Chlorpromazine (aka Largactil in the UK, Thorazine in the US and the Chemical Kosh/lobotomy in both countries).

Chlorpromazine was the first of a new type of medication known as ‘neuroleptics’. They were introduced in the 1950s and were the only class of medication capable of combatting the positive symptoms of schizophrenia such as delusions and hallucinations. They did not, as far as I am aware, do much for the negative symptoms.

I was reminded of this recently when I saw a documentary entitled ‘Inside Strangeways’ on Channel Five, a terrestrial tv station I rarely watch. In 1985 an infamous riot broke out in the prison. One of its triggering factors was the use of Chlorpromazine to subdue its more troublesome prisoners. They would be forcibly medicated; held down and injected. It is a horrific experience; something I have never really got over. Even though I now see that it was a tragic necessity, I still find it hard to dwell upon. The sense of violation never really goes away.

Throughout my first stay in the hospital, I was on such a high dose of Chlorpromazine that my vision was permanently clouded over. I needed Procyclidine (an anti-Parkinsonian drug) to combat the side effects of the drug I was already taking. Those were the days when the hospital staff would wake you up to give you a sleeping pill then wake you up periodically throughout the night by shining a torch into your bed space. But they were doing the best they could with minimal resources. I know that now but for a long time I resented it. Time does heal some things.

All of this happened in the early ‘90s and thankfully, over the years, much has changed. Atypical antipsychotics such as Quetiapine and Abilify have been introduced. Therapy is no longer contraindicated. People are prepared to actually talk to you nowadays. Medication is no longer the only avenue of treatment.

At the moment I am taking Quetiapine and Abilify. I am told I should be reconciled to the fact that I may have to take this combination of medications for the rest of my life. This does not sit well with me. I worry about the impact these drugs may be having on my physical health. Quetiapine has been known to indirectly lead to diabetes or liver damage. And. if you google it, you will find a list of side effects a mile long. The less serious side effects include dizziness, nausea, vomiting, drowsiness, constipation. The most serious side effects include high fever, confusion and permanent cognitive impairment (something I am terrified of.)

So I stand at a crossroads. I am tempted to simply stop taking the medication altogether so that I can be me again. But those around me say it is beneficial and I should continue taking it. I shall probably compromise and aim for the best possible results on the lowest dose of medication. This, I think, is the most sensible approach.


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