As I worked in Psychiatry for 30 years I make no apology for another post to highlight this day, as "there but for the grace of god" go all of us, AND maybe as following poem……

One in Three

Love and laughter may sprinkle around

With no real problems for you and me,

But we must always be aware of the fate

That will befall every one in three.

For our lives can change in a trice

When the world sends us a test,

To deal with tragedy, failure or loss

When we are forced to do our best,

To keep our chins up and smile

And face the world with fragile pride,

That may fool many, and maybe you

Until you realise you’re dying inside.

As a blackness so dark falls all over you

With no pinprick of light in your pit,

So you blunder about and don’t even try

Whilst every sinew begs you to quit,

And perhaps shuffle off this mortal coil

That right now seems most appealing,

For even if you do try to fight back

You’re overwhelmed by a darkest feeling.

Where has all this come from you ask?

But in truth you may never know,

How you are reduced to anxiety tears

And constant feelings of death and woe,

That will affect many now in their lives

As if have swallowed a depressive pill,

For you have become one in the three

Who learn the trauma to be mentally ill.


No heavy lectures from me, just my "poetic words"……


I see you struggle under the load

The world has decreed you must,

Carry and forever be burdened with

Until your flesh and bones are dust.

The withered look upon your face

Shows up the pain racked mask,

As you blunder on the road of life

Cowered by the impossible task

Of coming to terms with your woe,

Along with shame and deepest sorrow

That you and I know for sure

Will be just the same tomorrow!

What you may ask has fashioned this

To bring a strong person down?

Saddling him with crushing weight

And the wearing of a losers crown.

Well the answer to this is simple

And beware not to watch and judge,

The unfortunate stood before you

Whose guilt and ire wont budge.

For he suffers mental illness

Though his earlier times were kind.

But dark satanic thoughts and shapes

Now play havoc with his mind!

So he must project a physical norm

When clothed by harvests of depression.

That despite all his efforts and aims,

It only compounds regression.


Please look out for each other, love and care, 

You never know, you may be standing there?

Am I Dead?

I guess I must be dead now

For I feel no pain, or a life.

And nothing touches me

To bring succour or more strife.

And I can’t see outside my box

That’s how confinement feels.

Locked in consuming darkness

Which my personality steals.

I look out with sightless eyes

Upon a blackness staring back,

Into my empty, void-like brain

That feels it must now crack,

From all this unseen pressure

Pushing me helpless to the ground.

And even if I can get up again,

No sanctuary will be found.

So am I dead then, I must ask?

But only echoes answer now,

For nothing outside gets in

As nobody will know how.

So then I must be dead

Trapped in my limbo state,

Suffocated and being crushed

By an entity I now hate.

Although a flicker of some hope

I may escape from my regression.

When hearing daunting words say,

I’m suffering from depression!


Thanks for indulging me my wonderful friends and you all take great care!

Love and thanks again,

Laurie xx

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