On a cross. Upon the pedestal: Pray on your knees for me; soon the mighty shall fall…
I’m the martyr of your cause, not really so inspiring. It won’t be long until the bullets start firing –
What am I saying? The completely wrong thing… streams of confusion that only make sense when I sing.
All my words are up mixed you put my brain in a lab know I’ll never be fixed. So much for a hero Blink, blink, blink… pulse evaporate to zero.
They’ve heard to much from me why blind yourself to his word? Cover your ears and pretend you never heard, or at least you never believed Men in white coats – it’s from the authorities you have been deceived.
Needle sharp as sin syringe that used to be steel don’t let it under my skin it won’t make everything turn real. Will it make me form words that conform to your standards?
Push it deeper, don’t think about the pin just a cushion to your cause won’t banish the demons from within. Comes back to attack week upon weak someone once might, I just need a deep sleep.
Who have I become? Crucified, but the cross has gone. Punished for the knowledge No one else had the courage… Call me crazy, call me mental, a freak! At least I know I have a mouth and I can speak Searching in the oblivion with nowhere to belong. Will the controllers even let me finish my last…
Back in May, I released a self-portrait photography collection on both here and my Instagram (@the_queer_lemon_official). Since then, I have continued to work on the project, dedicating my time to see how much I could manipulate the images and find more ways of both exploring my experiences with dissociation, while attempting to further push the boundaries of my own editing capabilities. Through working in therapy, creating new music and writing, I have been able to further my understanding of what I know to be my diagnosis.
My journey to the diagnosis has been a stressful and seemingly never-ending part of my mental health journey. Detailed further in my blog post ‘My Story of Misdiagnosis‘, written at the beginning of 2022. There were many experiences I wasn’t even aware were part of a mental health condition – all I knew was that I was so extremely uncomfortable with the fact I didn’t feel like anything was real, and not being able to understand why I was still able to perceive it, if nothing existed. A very nihilistic view of the world that lead me, over the years, to feeling more and more depressed and isolated, because even the people I care so deeply about, as soon as they were no longer in my view – I couldn’t truly ever be certain that I hadn’t made them up. All of this still being something I deal with every single day.
As I mentioned in part one of this post, The Dissociation Photography Project (Part 1), photography (along with my ventures in writing) has become an amazing outlet and way to explore my connection to the disorder that sometimes plagues me.
The first image in the collection is entitled ‘Another Version of the Self’. It was edited during a time I was writing collections of lyrics and releasing songs relating to feeling like a robot, like I am a machine and not always the one in control. A feeling of autopilot. I wrote about an inventor creating a robot, but hating the creation he has become. A poem had the line: ‘Blame the robot for everything he can’t do, in his metallic flesh is a reflection of you‘, while my song ‘Robots Don’t Bleed’ had the line, “I have your voice but you hate the sound, reflection so unbearable hide me underground. Computer inside metallic flesh, dissociate, protect against distress,“. All of this culminated in this image. A reflection of myself, fearful that I am no more than a robot being used.
The second portrait in this project is called ‘Eyes in the Back of my Head’, which is more of an exploration of the anxiety I feel as part of having mental health issues and dissociation. The added grain is to give an effect of distortion that is felt with dissociation (further explored in the fourth photo ‘Constant Distortion). Not being able to feel like you can truly trust your own eyes can further add to the intense anxiety felt with living with such a condition.
The next photo is entitled ‘Where the Lines Blur’, exploring the mixed states of consciousness and how they can be experienced simultaneously. Half in the inner world and half in the out. Trying to concentrate on both equally is a difficult task, which is where the lines blue, shown with the shadow around my head and a bright light surrounding me. Trying to find my way to a sort of light but being pulled down.
Next in the collection is a photo called ‘Constant Distortion’. At the beginning of the post I mentioned how the feelings of unreality for me are a permanent state of mind experienced on a daily basis. This photo shows the waves in the wall. When I concentrate too much on trying to feel present and grounded, I feel and see a sort of wave, like the heat rising from a car on a hot summer’s day, but it’s always there for me. Sometimes when I am too overwhelmed by this, I don’t wear my glasses. This is why, in every photo in my project, I am not wearing glasses. I feel too overwhelmed by what I’m seeing when I’m dissociated.
The fifth image in my collection is entitled ‘A Small Window Inside’, due to the intense oblong vignette surrounding the image and also the lack of clarity in the portrait itself. It portrays the idea that although I am open to talking about my mental health, through songs, poetry and social media, it only offers a small window into the darkest and truest of my experiences. It is also about how relentless the feelings are and how it doesn’t always feel like others are understanding or aware of how paralysing the condition can be.
This next photo, ‘I’m Hidden’ is another that is inspired by my lyrics from another robot-themed song entitled ‘Reprogram’, which will be out on 10th September. There is a repeated lyric in the song, simply ‘I’m hidden’. To me, it is about the idea of there being a true version of myself buried at the back of my mind that no one else can see. A lonely person screaming, but hidden. Covered by excitement and smiles.
Finally, this last piece makes me really happy! It is called ‘Portal into my World’, and light showing that my photography and a camera can transport people and have a view of my world, I hope that it’s true. I can show people not only how I see myself through things like this project, but I can also show people what I wish I could see of the world and enhance the beauty that otherwise seems two-dimensional to me.
Thank you for sharing this journey with me and allowing this space to express my vulnerability. Thank you for anyone who takes the time to read my explorations or look at any of my photography. I hope that anyone who has found this with struggles with dissociation can see that they are not alone. You are not alone, there are other people out there who have these experiences. We are all unique but all fighting this monster together. I hope people could find some comfort in this and those who don’t know too much about depersonalisation, derealisation and dissociation could be more enlightened.
I am working on a part three, so keep your eyes peeled!
A sky filled with colour sends waves through my eyes a spectrum flowing along the landscapes that make my irises shine… Counting my blessings for everything on display lines of gratitude that pepper through my days.
Clouds drift by unaware that I’m looking their colours glow in the light of the sun and tomorrow I’ll continue to learn what I will become. The future is uncertain, but it is excitement I choose to feel, transforming anxiety and telling myself that maybe it’s real? That I could be somewhere new not far from now, and it isn’t a matter of why but when and how?
I’ll travel to elsewhere and see what’s there looking at all the mystical wonder that the world has to offer I will bathe in mother nature’s beauty and be thankful for everything she has bestowed upon me. I don’t have to shield myself from the floor I enjoy the refreshments of falling rain and when I learn to be thankful for all of this I don’t even need to remember how to behave I just know.
For now, I simply stare out, toward the glittery shifting sky watch as the golden lines glow bright then fade into tomorrow. There I will soon find them again, but that’s for another day. Lilac that stretches upwards towards the deepest blue and that’s where, in the darkness the stars will finally find you.
I am in the shelter and that is all it is, built for survival sturdy and foreboding; No wonder they don’t want to come in I’m left with no visitors, they fear what nightmares lay inside… That shriek and howl in the darkest of nights New moon leaves the sky empty storm clouds that never let the stars shimmer their way through.
I am hidden, discarded by those before, I have to lock the memory of it behind a tight airlock door. Everything reminds me of what lies inside, the monsters they are, the worst one they made. I am hidden, a discarded mistake.
They don’t remember any of the good things, the shunned qualities I intend to keep while I choose to count my blessings before I go to sleep Remind myself that they must be right and that they’re better than me. Sheep circling, better than demons, at least, but they turn into clouds that thunder through my dreams.
Intent on blinding themselves to the utter mess they made, they don’t see the prayers, or the moment I realised God had given up looking through locked windows hands clasped in desperation to keep on believing, couldn’t hold out hope. Rescued from the darkness and wondering why Best not to speculate let the sleeping dog lie, not often he gets the rest.
Another sea of stars comes into full view count and count, the wish will never… it seems I’m out of luck.
His forgiveness never came and neither did hers. Watching through the misty window, battering falling rain, The bad dog I am and in the shelter I remain.
I walk in the darkness, illuminated by the moon – searching for new a room with a vie. I’m met with the mistakes of others. Or the mess I can’t admit I made.
Do I look in the mirror and find who’s to blame?
Guilt, guilt. Guilty. Ignite something worse… so I cut, cut I’m cutting away the feelings until it all matches the pain.
Looking at the pathetic fallacy of it all we pretend it’s just the rain, clearly God finds it funny that it’s all happening again.
I was warned I was told I knew history would repeat itself… Here I am again…
Walking in the darkness, along the same lines this time it’s a new moon, no protection from her glow. I pretend every stranger is a person I intimately know. I give them a past that mirrors my own. Even if it isn’t true I won’t be scared of the stranger as I am meeting you –
Nervous little pig with a house about to blow. Trying to find his friend, he can’t let go of the tree he calls home.
Nervous little pig stuttering alone. Breathe… the wind whispers to his friends, tells them he’s in danger, the whistle was only heard by the bear. He starts to search in the darkness hoping little pig will be there.
Scarf wrapped tight – against the biting breeze. Snowflakes float by threatening to freeze. Are you still nervous, little pig? Only a hundred more acres to go to return to the tree he calls home.
The wood looks scary, the trees crane overhead; they won’t leave little pig… Can he have some honey instead? he begged.
Looking to see what flies in the sky, maybe a friend? Only fluffy clouds pass him by… and they’re getting darker. He hopes they’ll disappear. What if little pig isn’t so alone? Think-thinking of his friend, but every corner he turns reaches a dead end.
Close your eyes and imagine somewhere else, w here the yellow bear roams, in search of bees, invading their homes. He hums a silly song as he climbs the tree wondering what it was to be a bee.
Paw wrapped around a rising balloon, the sweet treat would be in his sticky paws sometime soon…
He would share this treat with little pig, who only wants his friend oh, the precious items he’d give to be walking hand-in-hand with the bear of little brain little pig and little brain together again.
Remembering today is there favourite day no matter what comes their way they can fight the shadows and go home and play.
For as long as I have been writing, I have written poetry and lyrics. Little collections of melodies scattered along the years of my life. If I were to find everything and put all of my work in one place, there would thousands of pages worth of songs – hundreds of potential albums. As the years went by, these lyrics sat dormant in discarded notebooks, until I was given the opportunity to bring the little melodies, stories and songs to life. The last place you expect to get these opportunities is in the restrictive environment of a mental health unit, but that is exactly where I met Mike Myler. From the nervous beginning days in 2019 where I could barely get out a single note without panic, came an entire catalogue of genre-bending songs! Dusting off my lyric books, now inspired to write more than ever before, my sessions with Mike gave me something to look forward to every single week, a project for my busy, messy mind to focus on. The thoughts from my darkest days became a catalyst to create. The openness, freedom and encouragement to say what I want and make whatever I feel was something I wasn’t used to, but here was someone undyingly eager to create and work with whatever I felt I wanted to make. As someone who is not exactly suited to academic pursuits, Mike made me interested in the work we did together and made me care about all music in an entirely different way. Music had always been a huge part of my life, but now I could hear the intricacies in the art of song writing – I was listening and appreciating music in an entirely new way, a way that never ceases to make me feel happier and grateful. After a couple of years of singing cover songs from a massive list of my favourite artists, it was time to sing something new – it was time to compose. Mike has this innate ability to be able to teach in a way that you don’t even realise you are being taught. In time, I was able to point out things that I wanted changing and stylistic choices I wanted to make. I have a set of new vocabulary that I would not have even known if it weren’t for these music sessions – if you said ‘reverb’ or ‘de-esser’ to me a few years ago, I would have stared right through you. I use these terms and more every week with confidence and I don’t even remember when I first picked up on it! Being in a mental health unit, there are always a hell of a lot of challenges where there would not be in your average studio, but with Mike’s continued encouragement and infectious enthusiasm, along with a mighty amount of problem-solving and coping with extremely aggravating software, we have created songs that I can, without a doubt, say I am proud to call my own. The total of out-of-hours work that is put in behind the scenes cannot go unnoticed or unspoken, because I am always shocked and impressed with the difference in the sound and quality of my song between one session to the next. As someone who continually puts themselves down and thinks very little of the things I write, every time I show my writing to Mike, I feel appreciated and valued for what I do. Although I probably seem rather big-headed in session, the compliments I receive in my music sessions really give me a much-needed boost for a week otherwise filled with melodramatics and therapy! To be able to share my songs with people, and for them to be shocked at the professionalism of every song gives me a sense of pride, which is all thanks to Mike. To be able to tell people to ‘check out my Spotify’ or to make sure they listen to the next broadcast of BBC Introducing is an amazing feeling I can’t liken to anything else. The therapeutic benefits are never to be underestimated, no matter the therapy. Music therapy has changed my entire rehabilitation and recovery journey, I don’t know what this journey would have looked like without it. In fact, I do know, because COVID gave a long pause to the sessions; the distraction was sorely missed, but as soon as we were back to it, it was like we’d never been away! So, I hope that’s enough of a massage to the ego! There are very few sessions or therapies I have done in my time in mental health services that I have found as engaging or as motivating as I find my music sessions, and if I were to have written any less than this, it would have been a disservice.
Kian: Dark and Light 