Mental Health Fridays: Blurring out the stigma

Mental Health Fridays: Blurring out the stigma

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Mental Health Fridays is a new feature I have created on this blog. The main aim is to share stories needing to be told at the same time, blurring out the stigma associated with mental illnesses. There are two things I am unashamedly passionate about: the first is writing while the second is mental health advocacy. There’s no greater Joy of mine than to be able to join these two passions together.

It’s been one year since I joined the blogosphere and I figure, what better time to start than now. If you’ve got a mental health story which needs to be told, I would love to hear it. Your submissions could be on:
1) personal mental health journeys
2) loved ones battling mental illnesses
3) losing someone to mental illness
4) an experience related to mental health
5) basically anything that could pass as a mental health category

The important thing here is, let’s get talking and blur out the stigma. But to do this, I need your help. Maya Angleou rightly said, “there is no greater agony tha bearing an untold story”. 

I am looking forward to hearing from you, learning from your stories and coming together to blur out the stigma. If you’ve got any questions, you can leave a comment on this post or send me an email.
                    Can’t wait to hear from you: mykahani@yahoo.com

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Its been 4 years!

Its been 4 years!

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This picture turned up in my notifications yesterday. A reminder that I have been in the wordpress community for four years now. I remember when I first started, I Was 18. I didn’t have any plan for the blog, hence it’s unfortunate name “randoms by a random”, and now that I am… (I’ll let you fill in the gap), i’ld like to believe that as I got older, my writings have evolved.

In the past four years, I have come across some phenomenal poets, I have fallen in love with many amazing poems which I try to share on writer’s poem Wednesday. And most importantly, I got to build a connection with so many incredible people.

And what’s more, many of them have gone on to publish their own books: My girl Rosema published (Between my bleeding lines), my Sister released her book “Soul Unraveled”, Jodi wrote a children’s book (Klaus the mouse and other silly animal tales), Colin chappel has published three books and the latest addition and my very good friend Carolyn , just recently releases her book called “The Odessa Chronicles”, which she co-wrote with Colin Chappel.

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As writers, we support other writers. Go ahead, contact the writers above, get their books, leave a review and show some love.

To mark my four years here, (even though half the time, I am AWOL),  I would like to host a bloggers Q&A. I can’t believe I’ve never done one before. So, drop me your questions below and and I will be more than happy to answer them in a post.

Thank you for supporting. For reading, for dropping your two cents and for always welcoming me back whenever I go away without notice. ❤️❤️

Drop your questions below in the comment section.

Begin Again-

Begin Again-

 

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At the back of my mind, I always knew that, It, this, could come to an end.

I could die,
He could die,
He could leave…
And I know this might seem a morbid thought to many. But, there has always been a spot of realism amidst my fairytale romanticism filled life.

I try to keep a little spot, save a little grey in my rainbow, in order to remind myself about the reality of life.

I refuse to live in a world filled with illusions and the delusion that endings is not a possibility.

I want to be able to say: I am okay and I am fine with endings now because I know I can always begin again.

Silver Linings-

Silver Linings-

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She wants to read about
romance, in an atmosphere
of scented roses. How to get the one
your eyes are set at; the heart’s
flutterings at the sound of a voice;
The thought of a face.

I want to write of sadness
and grief; the atmosphere of
grey clouds on a summer day. How
the mind works from the fateful day,
when the fruit of one’s womb,
Departs from earth.

I want to write about silver
linings after a stormy weather.
The ways of grief, and society’s
Alloted time stamp.
How a mind overwhelmed by
darkness, can survive another
sunrise and sunset.
I want to write about hope.

Teach your sons-

Teach your sons-

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Teach your sons
To lower their gaze,
Teach your sons
To control their anger, 

The conversation
Has long been about females,
Teach your sons,
To value the girl-child.

Teach your sons,
Dressing is not an invite,
Teach your sons,
Catcalling’s not complimentary. 

For generations gone by,
Females have borne the burden,
Teach your sons,
A woman is not an “asset”. 

Teach your sons,
They’re humans not animals,
Fit to control emotions,
And not slaves to their hormones.

Teach your sons,
Respect is due to all lives.

 

Apology-

Apology-

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There are mornings
When my spirit is filled
With the songs of the
Mockingbirds… singing
Alive… in tune…
and i I am up for laughter,
Banter,
But,
There are mornings
When one word answers
Are all I can muster-
Yeah
Okay
Fine
Bye… but I really dont mean
Bye, more like an
I’m sorry it feels like the weight of the world is heavy upon my shoulders”;
It feels that way, and I want to unburden and say something nice, but I cant”.

Please understand,
I am still trying to get
My bearings and navigate
Both mornings.
I am still trying to understand me.

Depression knocked on my door (2)

Depression knocked on my door (2)

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I lied.
Depression didn’t knock on my door,
It opened it,
As it always did,
Without an express invitation.
Depression is not a guest,
It’s family,
Moving in at whims
Doesn’t take no for an answer,
Does as it pleases.

When the sun graces
The sky- with its presence
And I try to will myself
With coffee…
There depression is.
Standing, walking
Sitting, beside me.
Sipping from the same cup
As I,
Me…
Us.

Depression didn’t knock on my door,
It waltzed in.
But there are days,
When I can battle it enough,
Just enough- to go through
The day without crashing,
Enough to smile at strangers
Without faking,
Enough to go to work,
Without crying…
Somedays,
I can almost defeat it.
Almost.

This poem is in response to a previouse poem I had written a year ago: A conversation with depression. I had always wanted to write a part 2, and after taking this impromptu hiatu, I thought this would be the best start for me. I missed blogging and the entire community ❤️❤️❤️

Time after time-

Time after time-

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The first time was labelled a mistake,
The second- a slip of the fist;
The third time was claimed due to fatigue,
By the fourth, I was used to it.

The fifth time, I filled up a complaint,
But withdrew, only for a sixth to occur.
By the seventh- I wiped off the blood stain,
Cold packs and analgesics would do.

The eight time, I felt oh so grateful,
There were no blood, just minor bruises.
The ninth time, I looked at the mirror,
at a person, I no longer knew.

The 10th, the 11th, the 12th time-
And my memories can no longer count;
The first time, He labelled it a mistake,
And I was blind to see It was a choice.
A choice… not a slip of the fist.


Hello everyone, I would like to apologise for my absence. Currently writing my finals, finishing soon though. I wish I could write and post and read your works, but there is only 24 hours In a day and at this point, every minute counts…  will be back soon 

Mental Health Friday #32

Mental Health Friday #32

 

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Today’s topic is one close to my heart and I could hardly wait for Friday, to unburden. So, here’s the thing. We all have someone (Atleast most of us do), who is battling with drugs, substance abuse and dependence. We might even be that person, because the truth is, you don’t really know a person until you know a person. And a lot of time, substance abuse doesn’t always come with a label on the forehead.

We, as a society, have tried shaming people who become dependent on substances (in other words, addicted), and how has that helped? Its only pushed them further into the throngs of abuse. Why? Because when you isolate people, loneliness is a hell of a thing, they delve further into their only constant friend- the abused substance.

Drugs have killed our society and shame has buried us alive. And until we find healthier and better ways of dealing with abuse, we are only building houses with glass ceilings. And those ceilings will come crashing eventually.

We’ve tried the whole- insulting, ridiculing, and making fun of those dealing with substance abuse. But name one person that has helped?! Time after time after time, we shame people from wanting to seek help, with our words and our manners. Read more

Writer’s Poem: Loneliness

Writer’s Poem: Loneliness

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Have you ever wished you could leave your loneliness behind and it would never catch up to you? I do understand, sometimes, it is one of those experiences which is part and parcel of life. But at times, loneliness stays for a longer time than it is wanted.

Loneliness is not spending the day all alone in your room. It creeps up on us and wraps it cold arms around us, regardless, if we are alone or in a crowd. No wonder, we sometimes wish we could leave it behind. Today’s poem by the phenomenal writer, Naomi Shihab Nye, touches on this same topic in a few lines. I hope you enjoy it.

The Rider by Naomi Shihab Nye
A boy told me
if he roller-skated fast enough
his loneliness couldn’t catch up to him,

the best reason I ever heard
for trying to be a champion.

What I wonder tonight
pedaling hard down King William Street
is if it translates to bicycles.

A victory! To leave your loneliness
panting behind you on some street corner
while you float free into a cloud of sudden azaleas,
pink petals that have never felt loneliness,
no matter how slowly they fell.

Half rebel/Half angel

Half rebel/Half angel

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What can I say about the woman,
Who grows younger with age;
And when she smiles,
It looks like the sun shines out from her face.

The woman, who
Struts the earth, like it’s her stage,
And it’s dwellers, her audience.
Whose voice carries an arid detachment
When necessary,
Yet holds within it- a sanctity which says
Okay- you got this- I am here for you,
When necessary.

What can I say about the woman-
Who is part storm, part rainbow,
Part rebel, part angel;
Part Iron, Part Honey
A woman who is everything
I hope to be.

All I want to say,
I cannot say…
About the woman who grows younger
With every passing day.