Hiding; to function,
Where does the illness end
and I begin?
Where do I begin,
and the illness end?
Blocking, medicating a piece.
A piece of the whole.
He was a handsome young man. In the counseling session he spoke of politics, love, plans for college.
I marveled at his many strengths.
Tentatively, he then announced that he’d written the Beatles’ songs.
He wept in painful awareness of the impossibility of false memories, the cruelty of his illness.
Many years ago, as a mental health professional, Alison worked with this young man. His anguish is still fresh in her mind, yet his resiliency prevailed. Alison hopes that this small story will make you stop and reconsider your assumptions about those who have a mental health diagnosis.
They tried to take away my best friend, but I wouldn’t let them, so they locked me in a white room made of pillows.
They thought my best friend was making me “mentally unhealthy”, but this room is making me mentally diseased.
At least I have her: she is me.
Catelin Churchill is a strange girl currently living in a strange world.
Voices in my head and lies in my mind, my body cannot move. Soon the pills stop working, like they always do, and the voices celebrate. I tell the people who say they aren’t real, but they tell me I am crazy.
And the white rabbit is simply discarded again.
Lottie Nancarrow is a horrible Rubik’s-cube-solver and an almost 15 yrs old hermit. She wants you to come to the dark side. You bring the tea, she’ll bring the bacon.