＊~花草居~＊

My son Anthony is 23 - he was diagnosed with bipolar disorder when he was 20. He wrote this poem.


I am a label, bipolar maybe worse,
they don’t know the glue has not stuck.

I am a number
section 2 or maybe 3
Depends which doctor you see.

I am a prescription,
collect drugs with names it’s hard to say,
but still I am to swallow them each day.

I am a fear,
One of them who hear voices.
The others, the scary ones,
The ones that should be locked away.

I am a survey
tick the boxes, dot the I’s
See it fits
you match the numbers on our sheet.
don’t deny it for it’s true,
We have a pigeon hole for you.

In another time, or other place
Would you make your mark upon my brain,
Would you send a shock through my skin?
Would you tie me up in your restraints,
would you throw away the heavy key and hide your eyes so you don’t see?

I am tired
Not a threat,
I hear the whispers, mocks and laughs,
somereal some I am told imagined.
Never private, never free
I am my illness, never me.



Written by Anthony Reid aged 23


How do I feel as his mum? Like most parents I feel guilty, could I have done anything different that might have helped him. Can I do anything now to help him more? Is it good to help him financially or not? Does he stand a chance of a wife, children etc or not? Is it good for him to have me help manage his life? If only the answers were straight forward.



(出處Mental Health Care)