Dear Fellow Inmates #91 #cong18

Poem about mental health.

1. New ideas come from talking
2. Mental health needs to be discussed
3. Greater understanding means better ideas
4. Poetry can express emotions more powerfully

Caoimhe May (Pronounced Queeva/Kweeva May) is a teenager from County Galway, Ireland.  She is a writer of Poems, speeches, short stories and unseen work.
She openly suffers from severe anxiety and depression and openly speaks about her mental health issues in order to raise awareness and end the stigma and embarassment around all mental illnesses.
Caoimhe May is also an avid and actively speaking feminists and is extremely passionate about equality for every type of person on the planet.
She believes strongly in standing up for what you believe in, being resilient, being powerful while empowering others, and the journey of recovery and self love.
Caoimhe has been reading and writing all her life, and had a children’s book published when she was twelve that she had written at eight years old.
Caoimhe May is a secondary school student and so she finds it hard to find time to apply to events or speeches but would speak in front of crowd about what she believes in every day if she could.
She wants to go into public speaking, the media and performance arts when she leaves school and any leeways anyone may have of getting her there would be immensely appreciated!
She is also available to do readings and poem performances for any event.  Caoimhe also promises to make a difference in the world for the better, be it big or small.  And she does not break promises.

By Caoimhe May

The great big ship capsized, the fear had you paralyzed,

            And so, you could not realise, until it was no longer a surprise

            And the sinking, it progressed, and as though I was possessed

            I hereby openly confess, I became totally obsessed.

            An obsession with my fear of society, that grew so strong inside of me

            Trying to edge away yet politely from everyone and hiding the anxiety.

            It became like an infection, although I think I should mention,

            If you were to pay attention, it sparked from retrospection.

            The obsession of perfection, fear of any correction,

            Of societal rejection, even of my own reflection

            The power to sense any tension, in perpetual suspension

            And despite my introspection, it wasn’t my intention

            That this mental abreption would lead to my depression.

            There begins the numbness, the long periods of dumbness

            The really painful sinking, the suicidal thinking

            That back of mind thinking that your insides must be shrinking

            And the vision of the surface, begins to lose it’s purpose

            Because the light on top is less visible and you become more miserable

            And everything makes you irritable and you repeat: this is horrible, it’s horrible

            Your life seems ever so dismal to do simple things you’re just not unable

            Your thoughts for life are so unclear, you simple want to disappear

            How and why did you even get here? And how come it’s so difficult to shed one tear?

            Getting up in the morning out of bed, it fills you with a sickening dread

            Of having to endure the day ahead, why can’t you just stay in bed instead?

            But to stay in bed is to procrastinate, and the next problem will frustrate.

            If I stay in bed too late, it may have an effect on my weight

            So out of bed I evacuate, into a world in which I’m an inmate

            I feel the increase of my heartrate, and the danger of my lungs to suffocate

            To stop the hunger I hydrate, and on I go and emaciate.

            Often my head begins to spin, the more I lose, the more I’m thin,

            Breakable hair, dried out skin, calories out equal calories in.

            If you don’t like what’s on the scale, well I guess you can call that a fail.

            Scrutinise every single detail, oh the joys of falling victim to the “perfect” female.

            Until you’ve achieved the desired shape, I’m afraid there is no other escape

            Despite the fact your bones may ache, or you cannot stay awake

            You have to stay in full control, keep on track to reach that perfect goal

            The goal that lies in an endless hole, that kidnaps you and steals your soul.

            But listen to me, you need to know, your life is worth much more than a few kilo

            It’s worth more than living up to some fake photo, you need to recover, you need to let go.

            Fight those thoughts, learn how to say “no”, you must create a new manifesto

            I know you could feel very low, but it’s gonna get better, be it quick or slow.

            This whole experience, will help you grow, at the end of a storm will be a rainbow.

            But for people to see this, for people to know, we need to start talking, more experiences shown

            We need to end the stigmatism

            Be it through campaigns, speeches, social media or feminism.

            We need to cease our criticism, stop saying silly things as a euphemism.

            This society’s approach is a form of terrorism, through judging, ignoring, oblivion, racism

            We need to end this disgusting schism, what is the point of narcissism?

            When it does no good, it’s just negativism, I need your help with this activism.

            To end mental health sigma sectarianism, it’s at the top of my list, it’s my optimism.

            So, are you going to help me with my vision?

            Or are you going to keep hidden, inside your own prison.