Going through Hell

I went to visit her yesterday.

She stared right through me. She cried but no tears fell.

”They took away my dignity. They locked me up in a small room. No bed, no food, no blanket. They took all my clothes away. I was completely naked. And freezing because they put the air conditioning on full blast. They injected me with sedatives. For six hours I lay on the cold, hard floor, trying to cover myself up with my arms. I couldn’t breathe. Im going through hell.”

Holding back the wave of pain that threatened to engulf me I hugged her tight and told her:

”Your dignity is up here,” I put my hand on her forehead, ‘and here,’ I pointed to her heart.”Nobody can take that away from you. 

 You’re my sister. and I love you with every inch of my heart. That will never change.” I held her hand and stroked her flushed cheek. ” your heart is a muscle, I said, quoting a film I had just watched ”The more you exercise it, the stronger it gets. Take the pain and think of it as building blocks. you are so strong and so brave and I love you so much. 

I don’t know what is worse; going through hell, or watching someone you love go through it. Its like a double dose of trauma.

 Im still crying.



I Told Them


I told them
I spoke to them.
I wrote to them.
I told I told I told

I screamed.
I yelled
I whispered
I cried i cried, I cried

But They didn’t listen.

So I stopped

My tears dried up

I stopped writing
I stopped talking
I never told again

All the pain,
the pain
It hid behind my smile
it cowered behind my eyes
and if someone, anyone, would have noticed
just once

Maybe I would have told again…


All these crazy insomniacs…

Insomnia. Sigh.. I get tired just thinking about it. I have delved deep into my nightmarish past and come up with a possible explanation as to why I have chronic insomnia. This is not a diagnosis, rather an understanding of it from my own view.

we develop healthy sleeping patterns from the way we are taught as kids. This takes into account routine, calm atmosphere and positive encouragement towards sleep.

but what if your life as a child was one of constant disarray, the only people that were calm were your neighbours, and you got tied to the bed, whipped and threatened with death if you did not shut up and go to sleep?

Fear kept me awake for hours on end, straining my ears for the familiar sounds of doom impending footsteps.. I learnt to recognise her breathing, her walk, her climb. Each was as familiar to me as my own name. When I was awake, I was somewhat in control. It was when I was sleeping she had free reign to do whatever she wanted. it was that paralysing fear, of being vulnerable, that kept me awake at night and subsequently evolved into a habitual lack of sleep which affects me until today.


Massively triggered by my friends suicide, I went into shock. First came the repeated sentences, over and over.

”I cant believe shes dead. She did what? I cant believe shes dead. Suicide? I cant believe shes dead.”

Then came the rage, tearing in like an avalanche of rockets. Frustration and guilt and then an overwhelming deep pain.

I had a full blown panic attack. I hyperventilated. I threw up all over myself. For a while, I just had to concentrate on getting the next breath through my choked up windpipe.

Now I am numb. That is why I am able to write about it without banging my head on the wall or putting my hand through glass.

Everybody wanted to know the details. How did she do it? Why did she do it? Was she depressed?

I am not interested in the details. This is real for me, not just a soap opera. Ive been down the suicide path many times.

The pain, oh the pain… Only those who have been through it can know it… Well meaning people try to rationalise the pain but end up doubling it instead.


To Listen

‘To listen’is the biggest gift you could give any songwriter/artist 🙂

She's in Prison

To Listen

‘I hear your music and I’m listening. Thank you for sharing a part of your soul in your art.’ That’s what I’d say if I could tell anyone who has ever written a song how much I appreciate their work and their passion.

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Its been a while…

I got busy with life.. I guess thats a good thing.. and slowly the novelty of having a blog to write in became to much of a chore so I just forgot about it. 

With my recent spurt of memories, flashbacks and nightmares, and the fact that Im almost finished my second year of university, has led me back to this blog. 

So much has happened. Life, for instance, it keeps happening. When it rains it pours, although in my case, it never stops pouring. I live in a torrential downpour of roller coaster emotions, events and circumstances that have me flying around carelessly, like a bull in a china shop, banging into walls and tripping over myself as I struggle to get through each day.

I guess thats the thing about abuse and the after effects. They never completely leave you. Sure you can distract yourself and most of us have found the necessary distractions that keep us from just ending it all, but I never feel at ease. Im chronically exhausted, my body keeps on reacting as though it is being abused. I wish I could tell it that its over but it refuses to let go. I have all these unexplained aches and pains, dissociation and I cant remember the last time I had even one hour of normal sleep.

Its just so unfair. 

I owe it to myself to ‘complain’ In real life, I never complain out loud. I minimise everything. Im working on allowing myself some self empathy. I think its important.