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.
Speaking in codes but presuming everyone around me is an expert hacker – that they see into my mind: The invisible attacker. Projections leaking from my brain now on display. An intrusive cinema screen has the same showing every day.
Format my existence, format me. Decode my being and hack into the binary – cut my connection from the screen so I no longer have to dream. Every dream is torture, each tale is from before. Emergency exit glowing green, avoid the other door.
Create a new house to store everything I don’t want to see. Behind passcodes and cryptic keys zip-lock files protect me. Another situation repeating itself… Pop-up ad! Now the trojans march through. Into the metadata it goes.
When you see me, you don’t see the virus-filled machine. Until you delve deeper and ask about the dreams. All the files Pop-up again… You don’t have the key, you say it’s up to me, but I don’t want permission to my Random Access Memory.
Magnetic hands stuck to sharp blades opposite poles buried beneath my flesh. Slice apart and it will unfold like a horror story. Can’t wait to see the ending, no matter how gory it is.
Freedom never found as long as I am attached to these magnetic hands. Rip me apart because I can’t pull away. The feel of the force is far too much to bear.
Skeleton of steel – tarnished and worn with a torn case covering. All the movements exposed – cherry red pouring on the floor.
Empty my cage until my body is hollow, but it will never ease the pressure on my skull. No magnets and no blades are embedded in my brain but the force is so much sharper than the blades against my flesh.
A plastic body, but I’m nobody’s toy. Dusty on a shelf, a confusing object – not quite girl, not quite boy. Most dolls don’t have those parts, and no one ones to play with the gender-bending boy, maybe one day?
Bruised twisting legs that can’t be manipulated. Ask my legs to walk, but my body won’t cooperate. The children don’t want a toy with lines across its body. It’s really no wonder why nobody wants me.
Paint over the plastic doodle all over the blemishes. Such a new toy, already ruined by relentless torment.
Soon someone will spot me, standing out, amongst the rest, in search of something unique even if it’s not the best. Pluck me from my spot and brush away the dust, make me dance in crazy ways – I’ll finally feel good enough.
They’ll comb my hair and talk to me about their day, they’ll play with me in the bath and over time the scars will fade…
The boy on the shelf has been given new clothes, a new family and even my body feels more like home. Less plastic, more real, soft skin I love to feel; the shelf where I was, created such hate, with this new place I can see the future I hope to make.
The storm is arriving, but I am drifting to sleep, don’t worry, soon I will have relief. Lack of consciousness allows me to forget the demons I have met and the monsters I have seen. Daylight is coming… just let me dream!
A dream where I’m flying, a nightmare where I’m dying Anything is better than the hell on earth I’m fighting!
Kian: Dark and Light 