When I try and talk about mental health I quite often get people wanting to put me in a category box that fits their understanding, like I have some disease forever that, like my past is still my present in their mind just because I choose to talk about it.
This is where stigmas is such a disgusting heavy cloud of shame that can sneak up on you if your not careful. I or you are not an illness, we are not defined by the worlds view of how our mind works.
Everyone is on a healing journey of some kind. I feel so vulnerable starting to write these blog posts as I get very easily effected by what others think and say about me. I read once that sometimes for creative people it is like they don’t have skin and they feel everything raw like it goes straight through them, that’s how I often feel. Everyday I battle waves of anxiety that I know relates to the fear or man: who I might upset today if I say or do what I think I should. Then I will have a poem start to come to mind and I will get lost in that creative outlet for a while before I return to the gravity of the world.
Welcome to the real world, where the beats don’t always rhyme and some things shouldn’t be considered such a crime.
Through my eyes you see the pain that has them recoiled and hiding inside, weathered appearances and blood stained clothes, open your eyes it’s not the truman show.
Their definition of hurting hasn’t even begun to be examined, you in your houses with air con and tv, switch to the channel that has real life stories for the world to see.
Where are the reporters to shine the spotlight, not just another current affair show aired today and forgotten tomorrow, where are my justice warriors who will fight for the ones that might not live to see their babies get past the next arrow; that hits their hearts and their minds, bringing down their spirit, who will notice their sorrow?
Corporate greed fed by human desire, not the basic needs of the ones in poverty: caught up in sex acts to feed their family, begging to be set free from the depravity that sin has cast over their life, who will rescue them from the gross injustice inflicted and dealt out without morality. And who will set free their oppressors without judgemental stairs, for they are just as trapped by that lust that ensnares.
Where the rules on the street don’t fit in with the perfect standards you think you should meet, where you learn the language of life and love and what matters comes from the heart above. Set your eyes on his heart for justice and mercy; be part of the solution, stop adding to the disparity with your soap boxes set on ideals of human wisdom that fails the broken hearts on the street curbs, who is it that is really disturbed? Do you think I won’t speak through the ones that lost their mind, they are my greatest asset for they have nothing left to hide.
