Mind Conflict

It is now June of the year 2001 and I have had a major crisis over the last few months hence the lack of content up to now. Everything has seemed so inconsequential but I have forced myself to produce this update to stave off creative stagnation.

Despite every effort on my part the change in circumstances at my place of work has fuelled the depression I am suffering to such a degree that I have been given time off work by my doctor whilst the combined efforts of the National Health Service attempts to control the dark thoughts within my head.

Yet despite all of the best intentions I am being let down by the system and I do not know where to turn next. I have seen psychiatric nurses, psychiatrists and clinical psychologists and they all seem to forget my condition when I am out of sight.

Just recently I attended an appointment with the psychiatrist who informed me that his first course of action would be to ensure that I was on the right dosage of Venlafaxine to try and combat the terrible depression that I am suffering. Thereafter it would be a matter of co-ordinating the various branches of the resources open to him in order to get to the root of the problems and attempt to address the issues at source.

An initial visit to the clinical psychologist enabled me to join the 9 month waiting list for treatment. A hell of a long time if your are on the verge of despair.

Regular visits to my local doctor have seen him prescribe drugs and referrals to the various sources mentioned above. He also took the step of arranging an emergency appointment with the duty psychiatrist at the local hospital. I was advised to remain there overnight as I was considered a potential suicide risk but I firmly declined because (a) I did not feel this was the case and (b) the current occupants of the ward were weird to say the least and being amongst them would have only served to amplify my insecurity.

I have also been visited by two psychiatric nurses from the local crisis centre who listened to me, offered me respite accommodation at times of crisis and also left me with a telephone number where I could talk to someone if I were feeling exceptionally depressed.

But all of these measures, apart from the medication, are just temporary, fleeting moments of attention that are not helping my mental state in any way. And the more I suffer from this level of depression the more withdrawn I become. Withdrawal makes communications very, very difficult so telephone help lines and one hour consultations or home visits are minimal in their attempt to restore my well-being. Why don't these 'professionals' understand that?

To add to the problem I have to keep my despair hidden away from the family as they worry and also become scared of me. More withdrawal, more seclusion, more disruption from normality. A vicious circle that is spiralling slowly onwards and downwards.

So where will this end? Well at the moment I am keeping faith with the medical profession and hoping that they can offer at least a respite if not some form of cure. But the lack of care outside of set appointments worries me............................

JULY 2001

STOP THE SAND

Anger courses through my veins
Why does no-one understand my pain
Screaming comes from all around
Why won't someone stop that sound
Niggling thoughts inside my head
Drive me to my quiet bed
Still the thoughts swim round and round
Why do I feel I'm madcap bound
Voices, voices say so much
Can't be stopped with human touch
All this anger strangles me
I long to be set free
Still the anger grows like an angry tide
Like a cancer killing me inside
Nothing I do seems to calm me down
All my anger goes to town
Soon all my feelings will erupt
The end I fear will be abrupt
With no-one left to stand at my side
I'll be left with nothing not even pride
I need to salvage my humanity
Set my mind free
Nobody can ever understand
Someone stop the watchglass sand.

By Claire Piwowarski

Dad,

I know I don't understand how you feel and I'm not even going to try to, but I want you to know I do care, we all do. I can't talk to your face I'd rather write how I feel. I just want you to be better and I know miracles don't happen in reality but I'm thinking of you anyway and hoping for one. I tried to write a poem of how I see things affecting you at the moment and I'm sorry that I haven't noticed the problems as they have happened. Please remember we love you.

Love always
Claire