This is the inside of my head I was doing this as art of something for healthy minds and around stigma and our thoughts and experiences around own mh.
I call it a beautiful mess inside for those feelings inside are part of me they’ve caused me darkness but to bring me beauty as they make up part of me.
The mess inside is due feel one time ugly, hated myself I’ve been bullied by others but I’m a worser bully to myself.
I have slowly started grief for my loss Marybeth the childhood shed never have nor see her grow up. I slowly grief for the live I’ve never had as I find the light n life I want to have.
I know that I’m not Mad nor Crazy nor mentally unwell.
I’m just simply a beautiful mess inside.
I’m a beautiful mess inside or I’ve been hurt, felt vulnerable lost and unloved, scared, isolated frightened too scared to say my heart to wounded and broken due childhood pain and grieve.
I’m a beautiful mess inside because I just needed to feel loved be taught a good person that I’m not damaged but beautiful inside and out.
29th August 2018 A beautiful mess inside no more the inside is no longer beautiful,
I apologise to Dianne an Tamsin now at the time we did this activity we were reclaiming back our labels using them to challenge stigma to educate others an I did try, I tried till my legs gave way, my heart fell weary no longer a voice to call out, the words are no longer beautiful nor helpful an I reclaimed them back but now they trap me I’m prisoner too, they’re the stark reminder who I am and what it was that destroyed me so, my world my heart my soul.
I’m MAD, I’m A Bully I Scare people
I fight, I argue you, I yell I scream you’ll be weak the victim not me.
You won’t dare target me you won’t dare battle with me for in my woundedness I’ve learned to bite and in the wilderness I’ve found my bark the bark fuelled by pain, by anger and pain and grieve for the one who knew me most who’s passed.
The mess that’s inside is no longer beautiful but the fuel to my fire so those that relate to the inside of me my head will no longer be held isolated, unsupported, the fuel of my fire will fight for compassion an then one day maybe a beautiful mess inside again