#stigma
art ain't about first tries
life's a slip but no slide
tears make for poor eyes
takes more than two hands to chin up
and you ain't a **** snake
no slide, just grind
no standing around
loitering not allowed
Jun 14, 2025
Jun 14, 2025 at 7:28 PM UTC
Imagine
Having an illness that impacts every facet of your life.
It’s there when you wake up, and when you go to sleep,
An illness that impacts all of your organs.
That ravages your personality and sense of self.
That destroys relationships, careers, and engagement in life...
And nobody supports you.
-
You are ridiculed, blamed. Told that you are stupid, need to snap out of it.
Others gossip about how you’ve been looking and acting.
You become bathed in shame so suffocating, it nearly drowns you.
Treatment is a long, arduous battle that many face on their own. Many are forced to keep up with work or school because this isn’t seen as a “real” illness. But you are essentially fighting yourself through the process. In fact, many can't even afford proper treatment.
If you don’t recover, the shame persists. You believe you’re defective and failed treatment, that it’s all your fault.
If you recover, nobody rings a bell. Few congratulate you or say much at all. Many who recover hit burn out, and are then questioned as to why they are burnt out.
The shame never escapes you.
I hope one day
Individuals with mental illness
Will be able to celebrate wins and have others support them in their low points
As if it is a completely normal and expected reaction.
Please support those near and dear
They are fighting a battle most would fear.
May 4, 2025
May 4, 2025 at 8:28 PM UTC
When drinking far too much and then some more
Expected downsides documented well
Rough ride in psyche, body, gut, and heart
Specific atrophy in frontal brain
Quick charm and nutty humour now all shell
These changes, bad alone, but all combined
Resulting rolling snowball to a curse
No more the looming risks are sharp perceived
No more a likely readiness to change
Slow-building damage cures cannot reverse...
*The body
then the brain
then the readiness to change*
In adding to the insults body-wise
Dear close relationships will suffer ill
And ringing loud the chant of "change yourself"
while far and getting further from the change
All options feel like holds against thin will
The heavy stigma punches surely down
More evidence for judging soul as dirt
Not worthy of the care or patient time
That social justice would dictate for all
No room for being tricky, lost, and hurt...
*The stigma
then the hurt
then the treating you like dirt*
And even those with training in support
Will waver, shifty, turn their gaze away
Unable to identify the soul
That suffer-trembles underneath the mask
The clowning chaos, drink-besmirched display
And carers left to weep and wonder why
Should care be so impossible to give
Your daughter damaged, injured in the fight
With drowned despair and stigma-staking rage
Sad, wounding warmth that shame will long outlive...
*The weeping
then the care
then the shaming and despair*
"We just can't help if you can't change yourself"
So in this caring, wounding, weeping storm
Just conjure up the readiness to change
Or cede to judgement, shifting gaze, and blame
Feb 17, 2025
Feb 17, 2025 at 1:00 AM UTC
they'll give it a name,
but a name doesn't mean
they'll take it more seriously
now that it has a place
in the common vocabulary.
it's still something
they don't understand,
since they can't relate
to battling the heaviness
just to stay present,
they don't know the weight
of staying awake.
now they put it on screens,
they promote it commercially,
mass-produced relief.
it still doesn't equal acceptance,
and just being able to live
shouldn't need to be paid for.
they give it a name,
but a name doesn't mean
they're no longer afraid to say it.
though it has its own place
in the vocabulary,
the victims remain unseen.
Jan 25, 2025
Jan 25, 2025 at 11:56 AM UTC
Beyond worth
Knew it at a glance
Never had a chance
Verdict-stuck and public scorned
Hardly noticed, never mourned
Beyond hope
Always them to blame
Father was the same
Ruling-locked and villain stained
Nature surely deep ingrained
Beyond thought
Pointless waste of time
Never mind the crime
Cover-judged and rubber stamped
Name and image rumour-tramped
Beyond help
Judges sit unmoved
Felonies unproved
Stigma-sword to reputation
Vanished view of approbation
Beyond sight
Don’t avert your eyes
Recognise the lies
Tarnish-washed and shame-suspended
Approbates with hands extended
Repeat until we’re justice-mended
Sep 19, 2024
Sep 19, 2024 at 5:10 AM UTC
Suicide; society tells me it’s a ***** word
Blackens your tongue and brands you an
Outsider to your beloved community;
Tarnishes your dazzling reputation and
Takes a beautiful, cherished, short-lived, soul.
But why did society not raise me like the
Painstakingly adored roses amongst
Its garden of thorns; why can’t I be
That happy girl. Why have I been
Doused in fertiliser, a wretched ****
Amongst a garden of beauty, growing
Faster than lightning, roots of gnarly
Agony and shoots of grey, blurred hatred for
Every atom of my being- screams for the ****
Killer to embrace me by the neck, apply a-
Seductive dose of love-dripping pressure
And set this crow free; unchain my bruised wings
And I promise I will leave you be, I will never
Bring misery or misfortune again.
But suicide; is a ***** word, a cheek
Burning, soul smouldering, darkening
Shadow on the pretty plastic cases over our,
Mechanical hearts. Not for the great pain of
Losing a barely, blossomed flower- took one
Heavy dose of white-pain sunlight and
Wilted away into the black, bottomless soil.
Not for the gaping loss of a singular
Fertile crop in an endless year of draught and
Famine. Suicide, is not a tear-wrenching,
Palm-sweating word for the, heavy and huge hole
It leaves in society’s newly plastered walls-
But it is an unspeakable word for the pure
Shame. The surly shadow of unspeakable
Shame that it leaves like a, stain of red wine
On the pretty, sensible woman’s white blouse
Like a ****** tattoo on the arm of an infant.
We do not grieve their death. We grieve our pride,
Our bruised and bleeding pride at not preventing
The stench of failure as a race of people, in the death
Of one melancholy drowned person, we practically
Placed the boulders in their pockets and said drown.
And I am holding my breath; tight roping this
Misery that smothers me at sunrise, see I am
Permitted a feigned slumber of peace in the dead
Hours of night yet I awake to the,
Asphyxiation of pain, eyes bulging in terror of
What awaits me when I run out of time, oxygen fast-
Fading and the orange, pink of dawn lights a
Fire in the honey pools of my eyes- small, mocking fires
That sneer at my desperation to cease, at my plea for peace-
Tight, burning stabs that tingle in my throat and
I’m running low on air, on time, almost there-
Deliria, ecstasy, glee dripping from my limbs
And- the noose I fabricated in my non-
Functioning, disabled mind slips away, faster
Than I can catch it and refasten, and I am, cold
In my bedsheets once more. Welcomed again,
To the now bellowing daylight of, depression
Another flightless, fruitless day of carefully,
Hand-stitched smiles and sinfully pre-tuned
Laughter. The world tells me to stand on the
Pinnacle of misery with one broken leg and
If I dare fall, I am a branded shame on the surface
Of the earth, I am the centre of all failure in the
Universe so I, valiantly ride into no-mans-land,
A knight in shining armour except, I have no steel
And no bronze to, protect my heart from the cannon fire
Of pain, I have no shield to shelter me from the
Poison gas of self-hatred. But I am perfectly okay being
Defenceless in the brazen gunfire; I am still breathing,
The titanium arrows of misery protruding neatly from
My mangled limbs and my broken heart.
And that word, sombre and dark as ever
Flashes once in my head and I swat it away with
Deep-rooted disgust, and a dire hunger for such a desire.
Suicide;
Society tells me it’s a ***** word.
Nov 1, 2020
Nov 1, 2020 at 2:51 PM UTC
I won't say goodbye to you
Because I can't
You are part of my chemical make up
We are eternally bonded
I won't say goodbye to you
Instead I will make room for you
I am not ashamed of you
I won't let the stigma win
Bipolar, come and take a seat
We might as well be friends
Oct 4, 2020
Oct 4, 2020 at 12:15 PM UTC
Tried to explain my psyche via Charles Bukowski.
Penned a list that included being up all night,
plus the lack of humanity endured while working.
But concluded the result was mere petulance -
probably because my next mood sank deeper.
This country has a sickness that shackles
the joys of life. Felt its hands strangle me.
Fingerprints are still molded in my clay brain.
Words reach me from below Finnish lakes,
countryside estates and snapped smiling faces.
Can't explain the stories I've been told,
only share what it means to lose all hope.
Could disguise this inside a metaphor
but for what? In order to see the light,
we must shine it on every naked limb.
Hopelessness, then, is searching for that
very word on Google as your love sleeps.
Feeling your heart rejoice and concave
simultaneously when the text describes
everything you've kept inside for x days.
Sometimes in the lonely dead of night.
Sometimes noon stays by your side.
Energy burns that a good run can't fix.
After splitting living rooms, its the wrist.
Tough to admit but these thoughts exist.
Now you know all this, please forgive me
should I despair when hearing it repeated.
Or write this down when nothing is hinted.
If this triggers problems deeper-rooted...
I'll delete it.
Sep 28, 2020
Sep 28, 2020 at 12:02 PM UTC
Some people say Im mad I just blame the L-RAD
Attacked by services syndicate post grad
Breaking the code of conduct that's sad
Criminal cause nullify's the collaborative ad
All privileged storm troopers got more than I have
Is the conscience alive while watching that sat-nav?
As a key worker your care is what we have
But straying for a kickback is a dent & bad
The mental health stigma is the foot soldiers weapon
Labelling us mentally ill with the DSM con
Exclaiming we're mental while the victim is alone
Stigma comes from the compound hear us groan
Hearing me everywhere have traits of a stalker
Attacking innocents with energy weapons lawbreaker
Violating human rights piggy back hijacker
The conspiracy hypothesis is the startler
Whats the biological molecular structure
Of a mental health disorder
A caucus of people of who can shout louder
Followed by misrepresentation from a reporter
Jul 10, 2020
Jul 10, 2020 at 6:35 AM UTC
I hate my personality.
I don't have a personality
That cultivates relationships.
No,
My personality leads to anguish -
Insecurity.
If I could,
For once,
Harvest a bit of
Silence in my brain -
I'd love that.
I hate to feel anxiety;
Fear of abandonment;
Insecurity;
Obscurity;
I hate to feel what I feel.
What's worse,
I can't find elegant words
To describe it.
Leaving me mute,
People assume things about me,
Making my efforts moot.
Friends think I'm overbearing;
Demanding.
Romances think I don't trust them;
That I'm too controlling,
Insecure;
Dependent;
Too moody;
Too possessive.
My personality makes people leave me.
I'm too touchy -
Too hard to love or understand.
People see me,
And expect me to freak out,
Or to demand attention.
Well this is my account -
Because when you are on
The borderline,
It's easy to see
That the grass is greener
On either side -
But for others,
You seem polarized.
I'm not happy with how my brain works.
I don't want to be the way I am.
I don't want to make sure people are
Thinking about me...
And then feel guilty or angry when they don't,
Or can't.
I hate my personality.
I hate who I am.
It causes me to never feel comfort,
And my unrest has left me
An insomniac for too long.
Now,
I just want to rest.
But,
It's hard to sleep when you're alone
And afraid of the dark.
Jun 14, 2020
Jun 14, 2020 at 3:09 PM UTC
Why hide behind,
the shadows?
when,
there's so much to see,
when,
your heart's blazing,
with dreams,
untold.
They won't get it,
it's okay,
to be that lonely star
in the dark,
shadows of the world.
May 21, 2020
May 21, 2020 at 5:18 PM UTC
All I see is blue
Through my eyes
Tears clouding my vision
I miss seeing the sunrise
Do you remember what it looks like ?
I certainly dont
Do you mind describing it to me
So I can know once again
I cant see anything through my eyes
They are clouded with tears and ugly little lies
Society has placed on ME
Without even ASKING
My vision is fading
Along with the sunrise
I know this is true
But I cant see you
I wish I could more than anything else
But here I am
Blind to everything else
Feb 26, 2019
Feb 26, 2019 at 10:43 AM UTC
if you have ever had a panic attack,
the gasping
racing heart
tingling limbs
and crashing mind,
then surely
you know what it is to die.
Oct 11, 2019
Oct 11, 2019 at 9:09 PM UTC
lead rain
the prison bars of gray days
spinning the umbrella propeller
mercury people blend in
but it’s not what we’re all made of
Aug 28, 2019
Aug 28, 2019 at 10:29 AM UTC
oh, nobody knows
the things in my soul,
the things that i hold
& oh, nobody sees
the things in my dreams,
the things that i keep.
~ stigma.
Jul 10, 2019
Jul 10, 2019 at 6:49 PM UTC
Do you have scars?
I have them too, though they're not as easy to see
You see my scars, although not visible are so painful within me
They're in my mind and in my heart and from time to time they weep
They re-open via memories and secrets that I keep
My scars of mine each have a story that I'm not so keen to tell
They play unfairly with my sanity and unleash a state of hell
Because I don't always wear them on my skin for you to see
It doesn't mean they are not there, because within they'll always be
They are marks of sadness that will always follow me wherever that I go
Like a darkness looming over me, a toxic traumatic shadow
But the scars are always a reminder of the bravery underneath,
The weakness that I sometimes feel, is not the real truth that I breathe
Battling my drive for life, is my hardest toughest task
As sometimes I wake up and feel I must put on my mask
The pull I feel beyond the grave is like a magnet drawing me in
Life's too much, it's far too hard, I just feel like I can't win
Skin is not always physical, it's attached to emotions too
My emotional skin is wafer thin, it's practically see through
It doesn't take much force, for inner skin to break a tear
It doesn't take much influence, for me to suddenly over-care
So just remember, when you look at me that my scars aren't so easy to see
They wear deep within, right by my soul, and are a huge deal to me
I wear a smile upon my face, but do not hastily presume
That everything is fine, my smile whilst deceiving is nonetheless a costume
I'm a warrior without armour, I'm a saviour without wings
I'm a lover, I'm a fighter for the happiness life brings
My scars do not define me, but they're just as real as yours
They're not always on the outside, they're more refrained indoors
Jun 2, 2019
Jun 2, 2019 at 1:38 PM UTC
Intrinsically introverted,
inherently coping with the pressure to understand- distraught or in
thought?
Multiple factors racing
call them thoughts,
become one, but which one?
One will grow symphonies to hurry sunshine under moonlight,
the other grow vivid distortions of a reality visible only to dreams
Buy low, sell high
observe potential and sign off on its rights
Sound choices bounded by the stigma placed on creativity,
choose the other- create the destructive blossoming of blue flowers
deviant and bold
Fallacies are the true illusions,
keep on with the mind you feed
May 13, 2019
May 13, 2019 at 7:02 PM UTC