Posts Tagged ‘Health’

In mind of my father, I would like to say: [Poem follows]

December 8, 2013

This is a piece of work I  have written in memory of my father, who died just over a year ago.  I have been grieving over the loss of him since his death, but for the first few months I was so busy organising the funeral and dealing with family conflicts viz his will, and liaising with my sister over the house & contents sale that followed his death that I didn’t begin the popularly understood phases of it until the spring this year.

When the fire burns will you cool me down; Will you love me enough to be there, still love me when I'm cool when I'm cool too?

When the fire burns will you cool me down; Will you love me enough to be there, still love me when I’m cool (!) too?

Then later on, nearer to the first anniversary of his death and burial, but before the estate had been divided, ‘case closed’, I entered a different ‘hypo-manic’ phase of grief.  I recognised the signs and resolved to remain mindful for fear of a full ‘relapse’  due to (unresolved) trauma and grief, and I relied on friends to help me to learn to take control of this little beast, – the adrenalin driven ‘depression with severe anxiety’ which appears to psychiatrists as colourful symptoms of ‘early stage onset’  of ‘hypo-mania’ which might be treated by daily visits and drug popping but no case for involuntary hospitalisation if at all unless hyper-mania is suspected to be imminent.

Janie beng very zany - and not in a good way : it just gets toooo much!

Janie beng very zany – and not in a good way : it just gets toooo much!

Family names are different. To some family members it is ‘here are early warning signs – what can I do to help’ . To others it is ‘she’s effing mad as apeshit, and as crazy as a box of frogs’ and then exasperation and impatience, even intolerance ensue. Other friend’s are patient and accepting and nurturing – that’s the best medicine of all.

That my dad and I were and are ‘classic and colourful cases of bipolar disorder (class 1)’ we both know. He’s gone now, but I hear him (no not literally, calm down) laughing. I’m still here.  I miss him dreadfully but I’m far from done with my little spot in ‘heaven on earth’. I’m creating a chilling space out of what is yet a house I’m hiding in; it’s going to be the palace of my life and loves.

Even alone sitting in my own house, houses either side of me, one of them audible and connected: I can get to feel claustrophobic. Especially when one of them’s connected all down one side. So -I’m gonna keep some of my wild patch amongst the apple and plum trees just as it is. Then beside it I’ll have a ‘the shed’:  a place for chilling while I work, rest and play,  ‘away from the madding crowds’.

It’s where I will go when I want to get:-

At Rest, Mindfully.

At Rest, Mindfully.

In mind of my father,

I would like to say:                                                                      [Poem Follows:]

Dad Formal & Serious

Dad Formal & Serious

My father’s not going,

my father’s not gone:

He  was never much in –

though  nature gave

him that clefted chin,

those ice blue eyes;

that laziness in his swing

That swung in everything  –

Including the drumming

And the piano blasts

All singing All smoking

All singing, All smoking

And the music that jazzed

Wherever he was.

He is a swinger, a jazz man,

An artist of soul

Who mere mortals judged

And pilloried

When the shit hit the fan

inner pain, outer glimpse

inner pain, outer glimpse

And that’s music too,

A story of love,

And Tragedy-

Comedy,

His Labours of Love:

Jainey in a very zany pose - her dad was never photographed when off his nut lol

Jainey in a very zany pose – her dad was never photographed when off his nut lol

He loved too much, too deeply,

For the tall proud swan,

Though not enough,

as a cash-flow king,

For the one who took her place:

Cute little kestral

Cute little kestrel

Who was a cute little kestrel ,

Beady-eyed, who doubted

this Cash-Meister big-time.

So she curled up,

in disappointed fear,

Something to grip onto for dear life and death

Something to grip onto for dear life and death

Around the cash that was left –

And wouldn’t part with it.

Leaving him lonely.

And that was the nub of it.

the ultimate cause of the heartbreak.

His Acute yet prolonged Despair

His Acute yet prolonged Despair

The true love of his life was music:

Cameras, cash & women came

a close-run second to that.

But  his fatal addiction

was women..

Though his appetite for

Savile Row rags,

Handmade Italian shoes

and his Frank Sinatra hat,

showed a passion for finery

Be yourself:- a beautifully ridiculous genius.

Be yourself:- a beautifully ridiculous genius.

That needed cash

that wasn’t made quite right.

You could see it

In the way he smoked  his fags

–           It was his critical weakness point:

That cute, possessive little kestrel with her eyes on the look out for his wanting any cash.

That cute, possessive little kestrel with her eyes on the look out for his wanting any cash.

When that went, too

He lost the taste for living,

and found the air too stale to breathe.

So, while no-one

continued to listen,

Got trapped & killed at Depression Stage; NHS & Charity partly responsible according to Janie Greville.

Got trapped & killed at Depression Stage; NHS & Charity partly responsible according to Janie Greville.

He fucked off

to the bar

(in the sky).

You’ll find him there still:-

Dad's safest where he is just now...

The gate-way to heaven above, bouncers below keeping the masses out. Dad at the bar near the piano & drums, probably chatting with Doll.

In peace – at last!.

For Anthony Pierre Greville, Born 14th July, 1930 – Died 4th October 2012.

His  spirit was purified by Sept 28th at the latest; his spirit was released during a private family service about three weeks later.

His spirit was purified by Sept 28th at the very latest; his soul was released, during a private family service, about three weeks after his death.

This entry, like all published in this site to date,  is the intellectual property of MissionMiraculus Ltd., and in particular all the copyrights of its contents belong to ‘J.Knee Operations Ltd’ . Anyone else who is invited to write for this site will keep their copyrights intact with a contract with MissionMiraculus &/or ‘J.Knee Ops Inc’  in relation to it’s publisher rights.

This  piece December 7-8th, 2013

Poetic Interlude : Adrenalin Junkie.

November 27, 2013

 There’s going to be a lot of space in this update because I’ve copied and pasted from Word and for some reason the format has stretched out. At some point I’ll train myself up re IT skills so I can reformat stuff – but for now, please bear with me. 😉

Poet at Rest

Poet at Rest

 Adrenalin Junkie.

 Let no-one fool you:

 It’s not a roller coaster ride.

 

You’re in an aeroplane

and you’re feeling tense;

You have an immense sense

of what’s to befall you:

 

You concentrate intensely

on your every strand

of knowledge, training,

Imagination

 

And you feel good. So good.

The door is by your side.

All your need is this:

Slide it open.

 

And you do. The blast of air

that nearly pulls you out,

sucks you in against the walls

of your every hope, stuns you.

 

You can hardly gather breath.

But you have your eyes on the sky –

It’s vast, it’s blue, it’s white, it calls you –

And of course you go, fly,

 

leave your parachute behind.

 

Wow! The air is clear, cold,

everything you ever thought it could be.

You’re free and you’re falling

Through air.

 

English: Cliffs at Gaitnip In the late afterno...

English: Cliffs at Gaitnip In the late afternoon sun. Wideford Hill in the centre, above the line of the cliffs. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Over mountains, over  housetops,

over  trees and the fields so green;

over sea, over cliffs.

And back. Over cliffs.

 

The land Is nearer now,

and you reach for your parachute

button much, much too late.

Too late to reverse your velocity,

 

too late for retrieving your life-

 

saving equipment, too late for second thoughts

And a considered plan of free-flying action

The rocks beneath and the lashing waves invite you:

With their black and white and blue they’re going to kill you.

 

1998/Janie G/ originally titled ‘manic depression’.

A Broadcast by MissMiracle’s MIC :-D

October 29, 2013

NB ‘MMus’ is the trading name of MissionMiraculus Ltd.

‘My interpretation of what’s in your head – by MissMiracle’s MIC

 MMus Ltd.  is a community based project group delivering specialist services to mental health users. Initially this will be delivered within the west midlands (December 2013 – June 2014). It will then be rolled out nationally, then internationally.  Specialist services are to be determined on a case-by-case basis.  Money for this purpose will be funded by grants and funds raised  by MMus’ Charity Trust.

The current Mental Health system works for some people and fails others.  By using a catch all process, the MHS delivers its care in a way that’s far too general.  Specific issues that make a huge difference in someone’s treatment are often missed because those issues fall outside of the standard mental health flowchart.  MMus will try and address this imbalance.  By promoting and creating specific life events tailored to a specific user’s needs, their difficulties will be healed. We expect to find exponentially improved recovery rates and to enjoy hearing about the thriving lives which proceed from our healing work.

Here are two hypothetical situations

Paul is a sufferer of depression.  He is currently being treated in the usual pharmacological way.  Psychologists have long reported that Paul’s issues derive from a lack of self-worth; he is a person who lacks self-esteem in a wide range of areas of his life.

What could help Paul ?

Paul needs to feel valued by others to truly value himself.   A 10 min chat with Paul reveals that he likes nature and gardening.  So MMus arrange for the city council to grant a space in the central Park to build a small garden.  Paul is asked to help create this garden with other MMus users who share the same aims.  The garden is created and Paul sees  a triumph.  MMus then gives support to Paul and he eventually finds a job as a park warden.  Moreover – he is so delighted with the success of MMus methods that he joins the organisation and takes on new clients with mental health issues he can relate to and who enjoy gardening…. Thus begins a cascade of ‘self-help’.

Lucy suffers from an aggressive personality, a diagnosed personality disorder.  She is on a low dose of anti-psychotic medication and anti-depressants.  She has been sectioned twice and she now just sits at home worrying and becoming more reclusive.  As far as the Mental health System goes she gets a visit once a week by a support worker.  MMus Gets a grant from the Government to run an art workshop for a week.   Lucy is invited and discovers a love for carving wood.  This then gives Lucy a objective to focus on and MM will then help promote and share her work.

These are two very Happy Ending scenarios and, in the MHS, for every 2 people you will help there will be 8 people you can’t. Our aim is to change these statistics . We believe that we will reverse these statistics.

MMus Is a way of targeting specific care shots to specific people whether it be de-cluttering, helping with a driving licence etc etc.  It’s the little things in life that really make the difference, these lead on to the more remarkable changes and ultimately is a cheaper way of getting people back into society that constantly giving them mind altering drugs.

MMus is trying to break the habit of “managing people” and change this to “inspiring people.”‘

RESPONSE? 🙂

 

 

 

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