The title is taken from the Dylan Thomas poem “The Force That Through The Green Fuse Drives The Flower”. This is the first stanza.
The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees
Is my destroyer.
And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.
I only know of this poem thanks to bipolar saint Kay R Jamieson. This poem was the first that came to mind when I started thinking about explaining the other half of the not taking pills thing.
I have committed a sin of omission, forgive me.
Yes it is true I was doing better and if by continuing to do better without taking the pills then I would prove I didn’t have the illness and then I could move on from the silliness of the past two years. The other darker part is that I knew I could die.
See that poem to my mind is talking about a creative power being destructive. All I know how to do is destroy, or rather it comes more natural. I have creative energy and it is mood congruent. As I type this this is feeling like therapy, like a revelation, a breakthrough unfolding. My mood defaults to depressed, I am I suppose wary of happiness it always feels so unknown; I know that I have explored the depths of my despair. I have explored through sitting and stewing in my thoughts, through creating pain and through trying to cease my life. Trying to take my life is absolute. Maybe it is like heat, we have an absolute zero but in theory there is no end point to how hot something can be. I have never fully explored happiness, it may even scare me.
There is a part of me that sees, and it pains me to see, a romance to suicide. I was so beguiled with the notion that I knew that should my mood drop sufficiently then I would attempt to kill myself, to feel no guilt or inhibition when it came to scarfing pills or tying a rope to the roof and my neck.
The sick and horrible part, and to the friends I have lied to today, is that I am thinking about it.
When I stop for any length of time I can feel the strings of my life growing taught and then breaking. I have missed the deadlines for two summer placements and the one I did apply to I am on hold for. I am completely unable study and am fairly convinced that I will fail. I don’t want to keep going through this.
From time to time I think about what my life would be like if I were to quit. I would incur five thousand pounds of debt that I would clear by working a crappy job in a supermarket, I would do volunteer work for a mental health charity and eventually maybe I would start working full time for them. I wouldn’t worry about my scars any more and I would do youth work at a local church and the kids would think that I am daft but that they could talk to me about anything and I would die properly - in my bed at a grand old age.
But now though, now I just see a belly swollen with pills.
I would love to drop a positive nugget on to the end of this I just don’t know how to.
S
Posted in health
The title is taken from the Dylan Thomas poem “The Force That Through The Green Fuse Drives The Flower”. This is the first stanza.
I only know of this poem thanks to bipolar saint Kay R Jamieson. This poem was the first that came to mind when I started thinking about explaining the other half of the not taking pills thing.
I have committed a sin of omission, forgive me.
Yes it is true I was doing better and if by continuing to do better without taking the pills then I would prove I didn’t have the illness and then I could move on from the silliness of the past two years. The other darker part is that I knew I could die.
See that poem to my mind is talking about a creative power being destructive. All I know how to do is destroy, or rather it comes more natural. I have creative energy and it is mood congruent. As I type this this is feeling like therapy, like a revelation, a breakthrough unfolding. My mood defaults to depressed, I am I suppose wary of happiness it always feels so unknown; I know that I have explored the depths of my despair. I have explored through sitting and stewing in my thoughts, through creating pain and through trying to cease my life. Trying to take my life is absolute. Maybe it is like heat, we have an absolute zero but in theory there is no end point to how hot something can be. I have never fully explored happiness, it may even scare me.
There is a part of me that sees, and it pains me to see, a romance to suicide. I was so beguiled with the notion that I knew that should my mood drop sufficiently then I would attempt to kill myself, to feel no guilt or inhibition when it came to scarfing pills or tying a rope to the roof and my neck.
The sick and horrible part, and to the friends I have lied to today, is that I am thinking about it.
When I stop for any length of time I can feel the strings of my life growing taught and then breaking. I have missed the deadlines for two summer placements and the one I did apply to I am on hold for. I am completely unable study and am fairly convinced that I will fail. I don’t want to keep going through this.
From time to time I think about what my life would be like if I were to quit. I would incur five thousand pounds of debt that I would clear by working a crappy job in a supermarket, I would do volunteer work for a mental health charity and eventually maybe I would start working full time for them. I wouldn’t worry about my scars any more and I would do youth work at a local church and the kids would think that I am daft but that they could talk to me about anything and I would die properly - in my bed at a grand old age.
But now though, now I just see a belly swollen with pills.
I would love to drop a positive nugget on to the end of this I just don’t know how to.
S
Posted in health