In 2012 I was very much living in the land of mental illness limbo. I had been through a lengthy assessment process in 2011, from which came my initial diagnosis of Dissociative Identity Disorder. In 2012 I was waiting for treatment funding. This led to a second process of assessments, diagnoses, funding panels and then finally, the waiting list for specialist psychotherapy on the NHS.
Throughout these processes I remained as unwell as I had been initially, if not more. I was struggling very much with dissociation, and in fact spent the majority of my time living in a permanent state of dissociation, and experienced frequent crises and admissions during this period of my illness.
For as far as I was concerned I was sharing my mind, body and experience with an angry little girl by the name of “Little Me”. I was possessed. I was consumed. I was under the influence of witchcraft and voodoo.
I wrote about it:
Voodoo to Witchcraft
Getting her face ready the little girl is starting to rear from deep within.
No eyes will ever lay on her bare self,
nor pry her from the darkened depth.
Wiping the droplets of starlets that fall down her skin,
a blackened river carves waves to her chin.
Smeared lipstick and sniffling she’s ready for the show to begin.
A heavy mist of fog descends her entire being:
Suffocating her, she can barely gasp a breath of air in,
intoxicated. Voodoo. It’s time for the hocus pocus show,
her emotions, her pain, her screaming circus in tow.
We’re just little fragmented dolls shattered into a thousand china pieces,
“Don’t listen Little Girl. Don’t listen to what anyone says.
It’s me in you now. We’re gonna dance this tip tap can can
go on raise to it bitch, show me you’re best pirouette en pointe
I’m holding on to every last piece of you, I run this fucking joint!
I’m gonna crank you up to your highest point,
winding your entire self, your entity up to breaking point.”
Before dropping like a bomb, a free fall into oblivion.
I’m blind, help me! I can’t see; this mist, this haziness is holding a firm grip on me.
I know I’m screaming, I know it hurts, but please, please, stop it.
This is gonna be the death of me.
I’m voodoo, I’m honest, I’m not in control of me.
Please, please sir help me stop this disease.
I’m just a limp puppet on Satan’s string,
being thrown back, to, fro and through this hell
I can see no end it’s making me want to send myself dangling,
hanging from a tree with no shame.
Ok please, just lynch me out of this madness, I’m mad, my mind is gone.
No blood, clean snapped, gone dead, deceased.
And finally I’ll be swaying at peace instead of dancing this tip tap hippity hop can can.
We’re just little victims of witchcraft, subject to a hocus pocus set of games.
Take it hard, hold it firm, sweep it over your skin.
“Get your face ready little girl it’s time to start the show
We’re ready, your mine, I’ve got you now
you’re all mine until the storm’s calmed down.
This is my show bitch, now lose that frown,
and laugh bitch, don’t you dare steal it now. Dance!
Stumble around the floor, throw your limbs to my beat
and scream bitch scream, until there’s nothing left in your feet.
Tap them to the rhythm now, what’s wrong, you feeling the heat?
I want to hear your pain but you’re no where near hurting yet;
Your just a fragmented little doll now, shattered into a thousand glistening shards.
Pick it up little girl, you stupid fucking bitch, and glide girl glide, until you’re bleeding a purgatory of your sins;
You’re just a broken little doll and the cracks are starting to show
and out shines all the hatrid, the hatrid from within.
But youre nothing without me; I’m that tiny thin of string, your only thread of hope that’ll show you inside your chest of drawers, your Pandora’s box of remorse…
…for the sins that aren’t even yours.”
“Don’t pop that medication girl, what do you want? To die within? They’re trying to control you, and worse stop me, but you need me girl, you’d be dead without me in your world. So if you have to pop them do it one by one, do it in succession little girly, commit your one sin.”