It's an illness," she said, although she made the words sound like "it's uh nillness."
Nillness, thought Strike, for a second distracted. Sometimes illness turned slowly to nillness, as was happening to Bristow's mother... sometimes nillness rose to meet you out of nowhere, like a concrete road slamming your skull apart.
Mots clés illness depression nillness
Enlightenment is the Goal - Love is the Game - Taking steps are the rules! - Allan Rufus
Allan RufusMots clés wisdom love knowledge self-esteem soul power-of-words mind self-help-book knowledge-teaching suicide personal-growth spirit quote soul-searching depression self-improvement knowing spiritualism positive-thoughts enlightenment anxiety personal-development sacred power-of-thoughts teachings positive-thinking positive-attitude spiritual-growth knowledge-education unconditional-love spiritual-wisdom master power-of-love know-thyself unconditional-acceptance sage mastery positive-motivation spiritual-development mind-body-spirit suicidal-thoughts positive-mindset positive-outlook sacred-teachings wise-man self-improvement-book knowing-oneself masters sage-advice knowledge-of-self positive-quotes art-of-living mind-power master-of-love art-of-dying hang-man master-key powerful-story sacred-wisdom
If I was set an essay on Friday, I’d spend three hours on Saturday morning in the library. Was that normal?
I didn’t know.
What I did know was that I felt less prone to depression and more normal walking through Venice or staring out over the lake in Zurich. At home I wrestled continually with my moods. The black thing inside me gnawed like a rat at my self-esteem and self-confidence. I felt there was a happy person inside me too, who wanted to enjoy life, to be normal, but my feelings of self-loathing and the deep distrust I had towards my father wouldn’t allow that sunny person to come out.
When the black thing had an iron grip on me, I couldn’t even look at my father: Did you do bad things to me when I was little?
Like a line from a song stuck in your brain, the words ran through my head and never once came out of my mouth. Not that I needed to say what was in my mind. I was sure Father could read my thoughts in my moods, in the blank, dead stare of my eyes.
It was hardly surprising that there was always an atmosphere of strain and awkwardness in the house, and the blame was always mine: Alice and her moods, Alice and her anorexia; Alice and her low self-esteem; Alice and her inescapable feelings of loss and emptiness.
Mots clés emotion anorexia depression emptiness empty mental-health essay teenager dissociation emotional trauma sexual-abuse survivor abuse child-sexual-abuse incest dissociative-identity-disorder multiple-personality-disorder dissociative
When the black thing was at its worst, when the illicit cocktails and the ten-mile runs stopped working, I would feel numb as if dead to the world. I moved unconsciously, with heavy limbs, like a zombie from a horror film. I felt a pain so fierce and persistent deep inside me, I was tempted to take the chopping knife in the kitchen and cut the black thing out I would lie on my bed staring at the ceiling thinking about that knife and using all my limited powers of self-control to stop myself from going downstairs to get it.
Alice JamiesonMots clés dead suicide depression zombie mental-health numb insomnia depressed unconsciousness heavy sleepless self-harm drug-abuse horror-films suicidal drug-use
The return of the voices would end in a migraine that made my whole body throb. I could do nothing except lie in a blacked-out room waiting for the voices to get infected by the pains in my head and clear off.
Knowing I was different with my OCD, anorexia and the voices that no one else seemed to hear made me feel isolated, disconnected. I took everything too seriously. I analysed things to death. I turned every word, and the intonation of every word over in my mind trying to decide exactly what it meant, whether there was a subtext or an implied criticism. I tried to recall the expressions on people’s faces, how those expressions changed, what they meant, whether what they said and the look on their faces matched and were therefore genuine or whether it was a sham, the kind word touched by irony or sarcasm, the smile that means pity.
When people looked at me closely could they see the little girl in my head, being abused in those pornographic clips projected behind my eyes?
That is what I would often be thinking and such thoughts ate away at the façade of self-confidence I was constantly raising and repairing.
(describing dissociative identity disorder/mpd symptoms)
Mots clés anorexia self-confidence depression mental-health dissociation child-abuse trauma sexual-abuse survivor abuse voices headache incest dissociative-identity-disorder multiple-personality-disorder migraine anorexic disconnected dissociative alters child-sex-abuse alter-personalities anoretic internal-voices porongraphic
One weekend it rained for 48 hours without stopping. The rain beat like bony fingers against the window panes. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Fungus was growing on the walls. I polished off a bottle of gin sitting huddled over the two-bar electric fire and wrote a poem, one of the few that has lasted through the moves and the years. It is called 'Where Can I Go?'
If this is not the place where tears are understood where do I go to cry?
If this is not the place where my spirits can take wing where do I go to fly?
If this is not the place where my feelings can be heard where do I go to speak?
If this is not the place where you’ll accept me as I am where can I go to be me?
If this is not the place where I can try and learn and grow where can I go to laugh and cry?
Mots clés acceptance sadness poem anorexia depression cry mental-health alcoholic learn alcoholism rejection anorexic anoretic
You are my finest knight
Carolyn ParkhurstMots clés loss death depression divorce
The problem with making a virtual world of oneself is akin to the problem with projecting ourselves onto a cyberworld: there’s no end of virtual spaces in which to seek stimulation, but their very endlessness, the perpetual stimulation without satisfaction, becomes imprisoning.
Jonathan FranzenMots clés solitude loneliness suicide problems depression satisfaction emptiness lonely empty boredom anxiety dissatisfaction void distractions solitary facebook david-foster-wallace stimulation jonathan-franzen robinson-crusoe endlessness virtual facebook-quotes first-world-problems cyber cyberworld facebook-addiction filler
When you're in the middle of your depression, pay good attention to it, because, tended carefully, you never know where it might lead you.
Gwyneth LewisMots clés inspirational depression
The wordlessness of depression is a galling experience. You can't phone your friends, writing an e-mail is beyond you, you can't put pen to paper. The disease is a crash course in meaninglessness, lack of structure, the collapse of form.
Gwyneth LewisMots clés depression
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