I stumbled across an interesting article in The Herald today that argued that modern mental health disorders are more down to capitalism than a biological disorder. In the article written about the book sedated its says the economical issues like poverty and isolation are more common causes to why people are “sick” I myself have been on anti psychotics for years and I believe this to be true growing up in cramped housing , having a poor diet and mostly just struggling to get by may have caused my illness. Although I would never put anyone off taking medication as I believe like dementia there is biological factor behind diseases like depression and psychosis. I think any mental heath professional who does not treat mental disorders like any other illness is not doing their job properly.
However , unemployment and cuts to benefits does not make you happy. If you have a job you have some sort of motivation in your life. Your around people so less likely to develop psychotic symptoms from isolation, the wealthier you are the better your diet and exercise is and so on. Which all lead to better mental wellbeing.
Davies argues that radical political reform is needed to tackle the social issues of despair. Basically higher taxation on the rich. So many things including mental health are linked to poverty. Substance abuse , crime , physical illness , attainment gap , shorter life span. The poor are constantly penalised. We blame poverty on ourselves when in fact our lives are made shittier because of capitalism. We’re forced into low paid jobs or benefits. While some (who can drive ) whizz around in fancy cars and spend their money heating their massive houses. It’s a way of life you don’t know unless you’ve experienced it. And for most unless you win the lottery never will.
I’m a summer baby. I was born on the ninth of June 2000 which makes me 21. Getting older scares me. I’ve never had a full time job because of my health and have not really got any decent qualifications. Most people my age will be studying and partying whereas I’m stuck in my stuffy old bedroom at my grans the only interesting thing in my life who is going to be evicted from love island.
I cant help but feel the pressure of the ticking clock. I’m not even in a relationship anymore and I feel like the only thing I’ve achieved since leaving school is giving myself brain damage from rock music , taking up a hospital bed and being a regular just eat customer.
It seems like the months are slipping through my fingers and there is no light at the end of the tunnel. When I think beck now there’s so many things I wish I’d done differently , but like my mum always says you have to look forward. Its difficult when your health incapacitates you I want to believe what kills you makes you stronger but it is simply not true.
Gods Own Country has to be one of my favourite films and to be honest I’m not even sure why. I think as a 17 year old this was one of the first films I watched in the comfort of my own home after being deprived of the internet and netflix in hospital and for some reason I was attracted to this Drama.
In a way the simple story line is soothing and easy to follow. Johnny is the main character of the film a young farmer. At the start of the film johnny is distant and almost bitter with his way of life. He treats humans like animals having a quick fling with a boy he met in a cafe. However this all changes when his father employs a Romanian immigrant to help out on the farm.
The two men work together and then end up getting into a passionate relationship. During this time Johnny’s father has a stroke and the relationship ends.
The end of the film all is resolved when johnny hunts down his lover and proclaims his feelings for him. Overall very good film and would highly recommend
If you’ve been following my blog for a while you’ll know that Ive spent a lot of time in my young adulthood in and out of psychiatric hospitals. The thing that bothers me the most isn’t the dire experience of these institutions but more the aftermath of life outside of them. Depression , anxiety and PTSD makes life difficult.
I worry about my chances of getting a job as i’ve been unemployed for five years and my ability to have a normal healthy relationship , or raise a family.
I’m not gonna say I’ve tried my best because I haven’t. My recent admission was partly my fault I thought going into hospital was the right thing. It wasn’t. Although I still believe that going into hospital at 17 as horrible as it was , was necessary to combat my psychosis. I’m still very codependent on my parents. The most frustrating thing is not being able to get away or live without people your not happy with. I cant drive and although I appreciate my family trips to McDonalds its not enough to fix the damage that being in these places has had on me. I feel lethargic a lot I fall asleep during the day and go to bed early at night I struggle to concentrate on TV as most dramas trigger my psychosis. I’ve gained weight , I vomit probably just because of the state I’m in. My parents answer to this is move on. Yet I cant everywhere I go I’m still in that ward.
I struggle to look after myself although I set alarms on my phone , I still struggle to take my tablets or keep my flat clean without my parents help. I want my children to have a better life than me. However currently the only money I get is PIP and universal credit (Im getting a donate button soon folks)
Probably the worst thing is i’m too depressed to write , the best piece Ive ever written, reading it back gives me nausea as it reminds me of a period in my life I don’t want to go back to. Even poetry I feel I can never get right.
I try to go out for walks alone , to smoke instead of eat , to stay up late , to get a job but the comments people have said still come back to me , but what can I do besides stuff my face with jammy dodgers and fall back asleep two hours after ive woken up? I feel inadequate. One of the rare people my age in Scotland that doesn’t have highers and has borderline dementia. Reading a book feels like a mockery.
The muddy water washed over them as they stood shivering on the street corner. Two girls Mary and Gennie. They weren’t wanted by society; they weren’t wanted by anyone. They had a mother. Yes, a mother that lived in unclean squalor who smoked rolled up cigarettes and talked to herself. Who sent them out on an ice-cold day in January to collect messages because she couldn’t be bothered? Mary pulled her arm around Gennie pulling her towards her in a hug. No one was going to hurt her, not this time, this time mother had gone too far. She slapped Gennie in psychotic rage, the doctors had given her pills, pills that she washed down with Russian vodka. Mary wouldn’t say mother didn’t care, that was not it. She had always blamed her father far more than her mother a selfish man who’d run off at a young age with another wealthier woman. Who’d left Mary and Gennie in the care of a woman society would claimed as unfit. It was the nineteen forties and the second world war was still raging on.
They lived in London but hadn’t been fortunate to be evacuated here they lay stiff in bed at night, planes circling overhead wondering wither a bomb would drop upon their heads. Gennie suffered from mad fits of panic waking in the middle of the night shivering at the sounds of the sirens her whole body would shake her teeth chattering, her knees knocking, I cant breath she would yell at Mary , “Mary take her back to bloody bed” mother said dismissing her through a cloud of smoke as she sat in a worn armchair watching some old cowboy film on a black and white television. “You don’t have to be so selfish” She yelled at mother although she was only fourteen, she felt like the only person in the world who cared about her sister. She pulled on Genies hand dragging her into the kitchen and putting some milk on the gas hob to heat up. Gennie hopped from foot to foot as the air raid sirens wailed on. Mary wished they would stop. What good did it do? It only panicked people, people running into shelters or just running around the streets clutching at others anything to sooth their fear. Mary thought it was unnecessary and selfish of the government to panic people in such a way. Once the milk was heated up enough, she poured it into a mug and took Gennie by the hand leading her back up to bed. Climbing the stairs. She Lit a lavender candle and tucking her under the covers. “What if we get bombed” Said Gennie still shivering. Mary took her hand stroking it in a soothing manner. “Were not going to get bombed” she said as if the idea was the most absurd thing anyone could ever conjure. She took out a book Alice in wonderland and began reading to Gennie. Gennie Sipped at the hot milk as her sister soothed her into sleep that eventually came. Mary sat back on the old wooden chair; her sister lay peacefully with her eyes closed. Outside the sirens still wailed on and Mary wished she could be younger, she wished someone could sooth her into sleep, but no one would. mother sat downstairs half drunk and showed her no pity. She felt as if no one showed her any pity, perhaps she didn’t even deserve it?
The mornings were slow but easy. Make the beds, empty the chamber pots get dressed, then go downstairs for cornflakes with a little milk. No sugar, not even on birthdays. She longed for something soft and sweet like the buns she saw in the baker’s windows but there was no money.
Gennie was staggering about trying to put her tights on, they were laddered and bobbly, but again there was no money. They were both trouncing from school again, they were too scared to go as that would mean risking evacuation, and although she longed to go sit at a desk and learn poems and arithmetic in a quaint countryside town something in her just wouldn’t let her leave her mother.
Mary stared down at her black cup of tea no milk as usual. They used to get eggs and milk delivered when their dad was around. Sweets aswell once a month on payday they would go to the corner shop and chose between sherbet and liquorice balls all laid out neatly in jars behind the counter. They had nothing like that now. Now all they could get where some out of date potatoes and carrots that mary would have to cut the bad bits off to make some watery soup.