A Kind of Healing – Art and Poetry By Charlotte Farhan

A Kind of Healing - By Charlotte Farhan

A Kind of Healing – By Charlotte Farhan

 

A Kind of Healing – By Charlotte Farhan

smoke into the night

smoke into the morning

remove

feeling

numb

a kind of healing

memories clutter

dreams smudge

nightmares form

creating

other worlds

mirrors

reflecting the storm

shackled to distraction

narratives of others

re-imagining stories

living through

our screens

blinded

white noise

like screams

sleep

is not peaceful

sleep

it does not recharge

sleep

opens wounds

scars

replaying

old trauma

faded

and cracked

smoke fills my view

smoke keeps me amused

inhaling

a remedy

a pass

to myself.

 


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Our Journey so Far – Me and my Psychiatric Assistance Dog

 

This is our journey so far…

Amadeus is a 13 month old standard poodle who is my psychiatric assistance dog and he is helping me gain some independence, access to the outside world, exercise and he also gives me things I can not get from human interaction. The conditions and illnesses which Amadeus aids me with are Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Agoraphobia, Generalised Anxiety Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, Psychotic Depression, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and Autistic Spectrum Disorder.

The requirement for me to have an assistance dog was in fact my last hope in having a more fulfilled life, in this able focused and neuro-typical world. Due to sever mental illnesses I have been unable to lead a “normal” life for over 11 years and some things have never been achievable.

When using the word “normal”, I use it in the sense that many things achieved by able people are taken for granted, such as being able to leave your home with ease everyday, crossing roads, being outside independently, going into shops and other establishments, speaking to strangers or service people, taking public transport, being able to drive, listening to music on headphones, meeting friends, going to hospital/doctor appointments…

the list goes on…

Very kindly a close friend of mine started a GoFundMe page and raised enough money for me to get Amadeus and all the things we needed to get the show on the road. People from all over the world donated and before I knew it, we were taking Amadeus home and the rest is history.

So in under a year I have achieved a great deal with Amadeus; starting with simply stepping outside my front door with him and closing the doors behind us whilst no one else was home – this was my first and most challenging of exercises.

Then we walked up the road and started with the closest cul-de-sac, completing this for up to two weeks at a time, then moving onto the next. Eventually mastering  three and staying in this comfort zone until I was ready to go past a busy pub and cross a small road by a large cul-de-sac. By this point I genuinely was astonished by my progress and felt a sense of freedom which would make me promise myself to never let go or go back – a lot of pressure but I have no “happy” medium abilities, it is black and white or nothing.

After this achievement my sights were set on going further up our road to a small green in front of an old Victorian prison, knowing this would be ideal for Amadeus to do his business and for me to be near some kind of nature – with trees and grass (even though it is next to a main road and very busy roundabout). This feat was very challenging, managing to do this once a week and slowly progressing to be able to do it more regularly over several weeks, before committing this as the place we would walk everyday.

By this point Amadeus was getting to be almost one and a feeling of rebirth flowed through my veins. So one day impulsively I decided to go the other way from my front gate, up the road and over a busy bridge to the cemetery behind my house, as this was something I could do without crossing any main roads  – plus it would give me an abundance of nature, things to look at and a longer walk for Amadeus.

We did it!

However this was impulsively done which was me jumping up my ladder and not safely stepping up one rung at a time, which is a trait due to my Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). This meant I was wiped out for almost two weeks due to the exhaustion of doing something so outside of my comfort zone, which of course made me have sever anxiety symptoms – even though at the time it was enjoyable, but when you get the same adrenaline from walking up the road to a cemetery as someone bungy jumping or sky diving – it can be a really surreal feeling.

My next challenge is crossing a main road in front of my house which luckily has a pedestrian crossing and then walking straight down small residential roads to a beautiful pond and recreational field. My plan is to try and achieve this, this summer, which will be my greatest achievement so far. Amadeus will be able to go off lead in the field, we can walk around the pond, watch the wildlife, sit and read or listen to music; it is something I dream about constantly.

Even though this has changed my life, there are still days I can not go out, there are days when being outside is like being assaulted by every piece of sensory information at once, leaving me unable to process details and all I can do is rest and recover.

So if you have never thought of how privileged you are to leave your home in a carefree manner and when interacting with the outside world and its tasks it is no big deal to you; then I challenge you to think of what your life would be like if you were unable to do these things?

 


As a small art project I documented my journey so far with Amadeus and distorted the images to show the different sensory issues I encounter when outside. This was challenging as simply taking the photos by busy roads was disorientating, however with Amadeus keeping me grounded and helping me feel present and real I was able to do a lot more than I thought I would. There is a slide show, all images underneath and some videos.

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Ableism and Fertility – When online support groups turn against the vulnerable

Last Friday I woke up in my usual state of anxiety and dissociation, having spent what seemed like a life time of nightmares that night – when I had finally focused my mind on the day ahead my heart felt heavy and my mind was attentive to the fact I am infertile due to many factors and can not receive fertility treatment or adopt. The root of my issue is that I suffer from polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS), which developed in my early twenties after battling with anorexia and bulimia chronically for 8 years resulting in hospital treatment, ignoring my diagnosis due to embarrassment – as it made me feel a lack of control over my body my condition worsened. Having battled (and still battling) disorder eating and withholding food this news made me feel “fat and lazy” especially upon reading the information available on my illness – the stigma associated with PCOS is shocking, the symptoms of high testosterone in my body made me feel embarrassed as I started to grow unwanted hair – my self esteem was already in tatters so this was the last straw. Due to ignoring this diagnosis I developed type 2 diabetes just before I turned 30 and then my life as a woman trying to conceive changed forever.

Whilst feeling severely depressed and alone at the end of last week,  I turned (like many people) to a support group on Facebook called PCOS Tribe UK which having been a member for a while even though I had never posted, seemed a great place to find some support, so whilst shaking with adrenaline and seeing lights flickering over my eyes I wrote a post:

 

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I understand this was a very vague post, but not knowing how or what to say this felt like a way to open the conversation up as I was feeling so unable in myself and struggling with communication. Within seconds I received a reply and was hopeful that it would lead to some support and empathy with people who were also experiencing these difficult things. At first all seemed good I received this:

(For the privacy of these women I have made their identities unknown – as this is a private group and I would not wish their personal medical circumstances to be displayed without their consent.)

 

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Upon receiving this initial comment I felt a sense of relief that a dialogue had opened up with someone on this subject, also very much appreciating the:

“but maybe your circumstances are different than mine”

This felt like my opportunity to explain my situation further. Before I could even contemplate what to write the sound of notifications rang in my ears as my phone received new replies and comments on my post. Quickly my relief turned into more anxiety and my mind started to fog, the lights got brighter and my body and mind were sending me clear signals that I was under attack, so the defences went up.

 

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The first reply here is patronising and assumes they know my circumstances before I have even had a chance to explain and as I am sure you can read, her sweeping of my differing circumstances under the rug is in fact very silencing. Assuming we have been through the same thing is also a very big mistake when discussing these issues – I appreciate what she was possibly trying to do, but it was misjudged, so whilst trying to find a way to eloquently reply, of course the other lady was still being very kind and empathetic, which made me continue:

 

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On another screen on my phone I was desperately trying to write a reply which stated the reasons to which personally conceiving a baby is just not in my future, wanting to explain why fertility treatment has been denied to me on the NHS and why adoption is impossible when you have sever psychiatric disorders and physical disabilities, but the notifications kept coming and my anxiety as well as impulse control was pushing at my temples, making me feel obsessive and compulsive with rapid thoughts misfiring, it was painful physically as well as emotionally overpowering.

 

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As you can see my response is short and frustrated, it may have come across rude, but I have not got the same social abilities as “neurotypical” people, so direct is how I communicate especially when under pressure. The women were of course still trying to be helpful and there is no doubt in my mind that they were offering this advice in kindness. However so much of this is misguided, privileged and ableist as well as factually incorrect. Women kept stating to me that the ONLY way you could be certain you were completely unable to conceive is if all your female reproductive organs had been removed? This of course is not at all correct as there are many reasons why a woman can not conceive from physical illnesses as well as socio-economic reasons. Also as a woman who can’t have children it is never helpful to have other women push their success and fertility down your throat when they have not afforded you the time and courtesy to explain exactly why your inability to have children is a fact.

 

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(the reason that my image and name is blanked out is because these were taken on the group (PCOS Tribe UK) owner’s phone/computer and were put up on her Facebook profile – which I saved as I was removed from the group before I got to screen shot everything, may I add this is the only one she blanked my name and picture from, all the rest disclosed who I was in a public setting disclosing my infertility and medical issues)

This particular screen shot and comment of me hurt and made me feel mocked and dismissed. Apparently it was only acceptable of me to take advice on trying to conceive, NOT acceptable however to seek help in accepting that I shall not get the chance to have children due to my health and circumstances. Is it so wrong to have tried everything in your capabilities to conceive and seek help but still be denied or unsuccessful and then seek help in the acceptance of this? The only reason I came to the group was to seek help from women who for whatever reason could not have children – never thinking that I would be shamed for seeking this. It felt like for this woman, me seeking acceptance and help with this was an attack on her or the “wrong” thing to do as a woman.

My responses were apparently not acceptable and deemed abusive. But it was acceptable to suggest to me that I ask a friend who may wish to have an abortion if she would carry her child fall term for me to adopt?

The bombardment continued:

 

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I was abrupt – yes! But rude – no, you can see I am trying to explain myself and my disabilities but it is going so fast. Still desperately writing my explanation on another screen hoping that when these women understand my position they will know I was not being rude. By now the tears have begun to fall and my mind is experiencing tunnel vision.

Then the lady who replied to me first – who was kind and empathetic posted a comment, unfortunately I wasn’t able to send my reply as the admin had stopped all comments, as you can see from the red alert. I wanted to thank this lady for her kindness. And was still trying to reply to her first comment and explain myself.:

 

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Desperately I said several times on peoples replies “I am neuro-divegent” or “I have neurological damage I can’t process information that quickly”, hoping this would alert admins to my situation, hoping for some assistance but unfortunately I got this final reply from an admin and then was removed from the group:

 

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The decision and action taken by the groups owner and admins, was so upsetting, in disbelief of my removal I started a new explanation and wanted to post it on the groups wall to explain myself in the hope admin would see their error of silencing a woman just seeking support who couldn’t keep up and explain themselves in time due to their neurodiversity and disabilities. The other issue which caused me great distress is the fact the admins saw me pleading in regards to my disabilities and my inability to process this information and communicate at the speed neuro-typical people do. That instead of making this group and support accessible to me they deemed me a trouble maker who had only come to this group to cause arguments? Which may I add is an odd conclusion to make so abruptly and without hearing me out – however as a person who suffers from mental illness I am used to this kind of stigma. So I screen shot the reply I was trying to write which is when Facebook told me I was not able to post in the group anymore (hence why it is faded):

 

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But this was never seen and that was it I was banished. Left crying and feeling even more alone – like a freak, a troublemaker. Seeking some help as I was feeling very vulnerable and out of control and as someone who can not leave the house most of the time – panic set in and the fear of having a psychotic episode which could lead me to hurt myself was terrifying. Whilst trying to focus I reached out to my FB friends, family and followers as they are such wonderful supportive allies and know my situation, I wrote this:

 

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As soon as this status went public I started to receive friend requests and message requests from several different women, naively I thought they were sending me these requests to support me after what had happened. Unfortunately I was mistaken, the owner of the group was the first and as soon as I accepted her friend request she commented on my status:

(As this is a public post and this woman “Jane Mann” wrote this on my public post on my public profile no ones identity has been blanked out.)

 

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As you can read “Jane Mann” still misses the point entirely and still thinks it is acceptable to treat me this way and wishes to silence me further, and does not accept any criticism of her group. As this is on my profile my friends, family and followers become very protective of me and help tell Jane to back off. I then block Jane.

More women sent me (and anyone who commented on my status) abuse and friend requests, after this one of my friends sends Jane a message telling her in no uncertain terms to leave me alone – I did not ask for this to be done (although very grateful) however I do not know what Jane Mann expected when she made herself public on my profile.

Then the messages begun – I did not accept most of the requests however I did with this lady:

 

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As you can read she is very angry with me and my situation. This woman thinks I should be able to disclose my disabilities up front with no issue and if not – then that is my fault, which is of course a very able privileged view point. Also stating that because I had not posted before that this meant I was suspicious? She also questions if this (wanting to conceive and raise children of my own) is actually something I truly want, because I didn’t just shut up and accept advice which was actually not relevant to me as I CAN NOT CONCEIVE, but was never given enough time to explain exactly why this is so! Also she suggests I am a liar because I said these women “attacked” me, but doesn’t understand that feeling attacked by a large number of women overwhelming me with information at an unrealistic speed for me to keep up with is also a valid description of being “attacked” they of course did not pounce on me literally they attacked me figuratively through their ableism and dismissing my disabilities. I felt attacked! This very angry woman also says “if you had posted correctly” then apparently I would have been helped, I was unaware that there was a correct way to post – if I had known I certainly would have not joined the group or posted as this is too restrictive for me and confusing. As stated before – that morning there was no way in which I was able to write a long post explaining every detail of my infertility, physical and mental illnesses, disabilities, neuro-diversity and circumstances, not only because I was unwell but also due to the unwanted stigma that my circumstances can cause. Also her focus is on the number of women, I said “about 15” – for me this included all responses however I may have counted some people twice due to certain people posting more than once, in the confusion this is very possible – a valid argument against me – no!

This got nastier and nastier as this woman messaged everyone who had commented on my status or liked it – harassing people all because of this situation. Then this woman took it upon herself to go to my non-profit /charity organisation FB page Art Saves Lives International (ASLI) and do this:

 

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(since this attack either the woman or Facebook have removed this review)

 

Not only was this a step too far and nothing to do with ASLI as I was never in the group PCOS Tribe UK representing ASLI – I was there as Charlotte Farhan. This went on and on and she disclosed my infertility and medical issues here on this page. Not my public profile which anyone can access – not my public art page on Facebook which is just me. No this woman attacked this page and gave a fake review of an organisation which she had never heard of, all because I was unable to explain my disabilities and circumstances in the PCOS Tribe UK group in a satisfactory and speedily manner in order to receive advice I did not ask for or need by ableist privileged women.

My friend and a member of the ASLI team received a threat of physical harm and her art page on Facebook was attacked by these women:

 

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I received more the next day:

 

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Then my husband was alerted to Jane Mann (the owner of PCOS Tribe UK) sharing my information on her private profile as well as allowing people to discriminate against me and a friend after my mental illnesses and disabilities had been confirmed, this was in an album on her profile named “Evidence” along with screen shots of me in the private group disclosing all my issues:

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Calling us mentally unstable – which myself and my friend who sent Jane Mann a message (no one else did) are, as we have sever mental illness, which we stated – ridiculing us is ableism.

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Calling me a psycho – ableism and stigmatising against my very real and debilitating psychiatric illness.

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Yes we do! We don’t get it due to the state of the mental health care in the UK on the NHS. This is an ableist slur and stating how it is sad we need help is stigmatising and discriminatory.

None of this needed to happen, this was avoidable and hopefully these women – especially the owner and admins will learn how they need to check their privilege, especially their able privilege as well as understanding that fertility is not only to do with your reproductive organs, that there are many women like me who are given a small window until they reach 35 (depending on their area) who if they do not fit the correct criteria are denied fertility treatment. For me due to my 5ft 11inch frame and difficulties getting down to an unrealistic BMI in under 2 years when my diabetes was so out of control due to my  pancreas shutting down – was just not possible. Then the women would say “well get a second opinion, see a fertility specialist, get fertility treatment”, which my husband and I can not afford as we are a one income household as I can not earn money due to my disabilities and we have very bad credit. As for adoption – well I do not meet the standards as my disabilities and mental illness would mean (by their assessment) that I could not adequately care for a child. I do not dispute this as I am unable to care for myself.

Due to these factors my goal now is acceptance and realising that life without children can be fulfilling and meaningful, at the time I realise grieving for what will never be is essential. My husband and I have already lost a pregnancy when i was 26 years old – just after our first scan.

There is no malice in this article just awareness and my experience being put forward, hoping that this will mean other women like me will not be silenced or shut out because they do not fit into the socially constructed ideal of being a woman and having children. I would like to thank the women who came forward to me from the group PCOS Tribe UK who offered me support and help even though they were scared of the group owner and admin removing them, there were 5 women but two wrote sensitive information which may disclose their identities so I chose not to put them here:

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*Revision – I would like to clarify that I do NOT deem all members of this group as ableist, privileged or patronising. I am only referring to the members I had experiences with which were ableist and privileged. I am certain that this group is full of wonderful women from all different perspectives and circumstances, my issue is only with the page owner, admins and the members who attacked me after being removed. I know most women who commented meant well and did not understand my situation due to my vague post. I have not written this article to detract from the “good work” this group does for other vulnerable women, but felt it essential to put my experience across and since doing so have received a lot of feedback from women within the group and out of the group who have experienced similar issues in regards to my experiences and who have also experienced ableism. I wish all these women the best and hope they have happy healthy lives (even the owner, admins and members who harassed me after being removed). I hold no hate in my heart – I only wish to highlight the issues women like me with disabilities and who are neuro-diverse experience – my voice is valid and I shall not be silenced. 

For anyone reading this who is still unaware or confused about ableism or able privilege then here are some helpful links:

What is Ableism? Five Things About Ableism You Should Know

15 Crazy Examples Of Insanely Ableist Language

Stop Ableism Inc. / Arrêter L’Ableism Inc.

10 Ways to Avoid Everyday Ableism

DISABLED WOMEN AND REPRODUCTIVE JUSTICE

Women and Girls with Disabilities

 

Thank you and if you have any comments of feedback please fill out this form:

“I am Fine” the mantra of unseen illness – By Charlotte Farhan


I am fine….

I AM FINE!

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However which way I say these three words they are always a lie. Not a vicious deceitful lie, but a lie which serves me well whilst simultaneously crushing me emotionally; with each utterance. This little sentence has become a habitual response to the question:

How are you?

Which is a very common occurrence, most people do not divulge their entire life story when asked how they are, it is just an extension to how we greet one another, a politeness (especially in England) to reply:

I am fine, thank you. And how are you?

However when you are really asked this question by a close member of your family, your partner, a close friend or even your therapist and you still only ever say:

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Well this kind of situation is what I am talking about and is what this art piece represents. This is about how self preservation means losing part of your identity, emotionally but more importantly the denial of your present state. Never allowing your armour to be compromised, focusing on other peoples problems and absorbing them, when asked about yourself you divert conversations as if they were on-coming traffic; as if your life depends on it – because it does.

The majority of the time I do not look “sick”, I have mainly unseen illnesses and my most debilitating of ailments is completely invisible to the eye. As well as this many people do not “believe” in mental illness or recognise certain neurological conditions, saying things such as:

It’s all in your head!

It’s mind over matter.

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These statements are very unhelpful and also redundant in this context. Saying it is all in ones head is a correct statement, mental illness is in our encasement’s which we call heads, in our brains – our minds. It is not in our legs, nor our arms, it is very much a head thing. However saying it to someone as a dismissive statement is not a logical statement as it suggests that your mental illness or neurological condition should not be “in your head”. Suggesting that it maybe make believe or a lie to gain sympathy (which if you are a person who suffers from mental illness you will know this is an insult as there is no sympathy granted to the mentally ill, instead it is stigmatised). As for “you don’t look sick” this one is nothing more than an ignorant judgement, looking at someone with just ones eyes and not a full body CT scanner (which also can not see everything) there is no way to determine someones health or disability status.

Due to all this added conjecture to this particular scenario , it is not hard to understand why the “I am fine” mantra is a fail safe for so many. You get tired of explaining yourself, defending your diagnosis and dealing with people saying things like:

I don’t really believe in mental illness.

Mental illness is a conspiracy to control and label us.

Mental illness is just mental weakness.

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So the simple solution is to pretend that you are fine, that you do not need help, that you are not “weak” or “dangerous”, for every mental illness denier there is another person who believes we should all be locked up and not trusted due to the stigmatisation and misinformation on both the mentally ill and those with criminal intent.

This may be the simplest of solutions but it comes at a cost to most. You see there is only a finite amount of space in ones emotional storage unit and the continuous throwing anything and everything that you wish to hide in there can mean that you reach a time you can’t shut the door anymore, let alone lock it. This can lead to you bursting and spilling out onto everything around you or it can mean you just implode – self detonate.

Truthfully for me it is a constant battle inside my head, of not wanting to alienate people or scare people with my overwhelming emotional instability and behavioural abnormalities – having to remain stoic by being the person who people come to, the provider, the rescuer. Against letting it all out, a completely “no shits given” attitude, a liberating freedom of being able to just be me, all parts of me at all levels of intensity. This of course is very black and white and a thought process due to my borderline personality disorder, the middle ground does not tend to exist in my world, it sometimes appears but rarely when experiencing high emotions. To pass off the “strong” persona I have to use the “I am fine” line a lot, which is a kind of middle ground, at least it is when one is trying to manage social boundaries and interpersonal relationships – which to me are like alien concepts that cause feelings of being an outsider.

Charlotte Farhan

There have been times in my past when “I am fine” was a defence mechanism as I was in denial about my illnesses and wished to hide the entire idea from myself, blaming my emotions and behaviours on alcohol, drugs and being a “bitch”, that crazy girl thing was easy to flip and present myself to the world as a “bad” person in my twenties – so I stuck to it. People even liked this persona, some celebrated it by telling me they loved my “fuck you attitude” and loved to see me being abusive to others or violent. If the other side, the vulnerable side – was presented (which was me during my teens, from 11 yrs to 20 yrs old) people looked at me as an emotional drain, a liability, dangerous, scary, I became an undesirable human. At these times of no control self harm, suicide attempts, eating disorders, psychosis, machiavellianism, disinhibition and an emotional sensitivity that was never-ending was my way of life. I learnt valuable lessons on survival and how to mimic other humans as a visiting entity from the planet “strange”, using manipulation to gain friends and taking on other identities which were visible to me as ideals, I could be the most popular person in the room or the most disliked, this was not up to my audience or friends, this was up to me and my chameleon like personality. The important thing is I have forgiven myself for being this way, knowing now this was and still is a neurological condition and a perfectly OK way to survive when you have only ever known trauma.

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Now that I am in my thirties things have got to a point that my life is more introspective and having the perspective of an “adult” allows me to look at my teens and twenties more objectively and see how and why I had to survive this way when there were no adults parenting me and keeping me safe. Being an adult in this way means that when I look back I ask different questions than I did before, such as:

Where were your parents?

How long were you left on your own?

How was it looking after yourself at such a young age?

Did you have to grow up quickly?

There is a draw back to being older however, my emotions get buried deeper, I detach more and say “I am fine” even more than ever. Wanting to be liked for me, not wanting to buy friends or manipulate them to like me, not wanting to be the extreme me who needs someone to safeguard them at all times, not wanting to be the rescuer and the “strong” one all the time. Wanting people to understand my pain more, I want and need actual medical support for my disabilities but am not at a vulnerable age anymore, so am taken less seriously. Hiding in medication and being likeable and not too intense feels like a life sentence:

But still all I can say is:

I am fine!

 


i-am-fine-by-charlotte-farhan


 

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Growth – Art and Short Story – By Charlotte Farhan

Growth By Charlotte Farhan

Growth By Charlotte Farhan

 

Growth – A short story by Charlotte Farhan

 

Hope was a young woman who carried around sadness, as if it were a suitcase of old belongings she had lost the key for a long time ago. Hope wanted to be free of this baggage that weighed her down each day; wishing she could take flight as if she were a bird heading for warmer weather.

One day Hope felt a pressure in her head as if something was trying to escape, it pushed at her temples and made her ears pop. The feeling was excruciating and left hope feeling overwhelmed and scared. Suddenly something was in her mouth, it had made its way up her throat and was now sitting on her tongue as if it were a pill waiting to be swallowed. Instead she went to the mirror apprehensively and opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, to her disbelief a perfectly intact leaf sat there, she reached into her mouth and carefully took the leaf out to examine. It was an ordinary leaf, from a tree or plant and it was a glorious green. Hope was very much perturbed by this turn of events, feeling very tired suddenly and still suffering from an intense headache, the only thing left to do was go to bed.

Upon waking the next morning after what felt like a years worth of sleep, Hope opened her eyes and could only see green; she wiped them and blinked repetitively, hoping it was just a dream. As the green came into focus she realised that she was surrounded by branches and on those branches grew leaves like the one she had found in mouth the night before. Hope was unable to move as she was in so much disbelief regarding these events before her. In an attempt to move her head in order to sit up, she felt trapped; her head was heavy and felt as if it was tied to her bead posts. Hope reached into her bedside cabinet and blindly hunted for a small hand mirror she knew was there, finally she found it and opened it up to see what was holding her down. When hope looked at her reflection she did not trust what she could see; it was surreal. Hope had somehow – overnight, grown branches out of her head, there was no blood or pain and the tree looked the healthiest she had ever seen a tree to be.

Hope was able to free herself from her bed and navigate her way to her bathroom, she washed her face and brushed her teeth, rustling around as the leaves touched. It was a struggle to get dressed as her head weight pulled her down – if she was not careful, but eventually she was ready to go outside. Hope lived in the middle of nowhere and had acres of land beyond her garden. This was a relief to Hope as the idea of seeing anyone right now filled her with dread as she didn’t know how she would explain her appearance. The aim she had in mind was to go to the woods and see if she could find a matching tree and maybe this would bring about some sort of explanation.

Hope ducked under her door frame and stepped outside into her garden, she looked around and the world seemed the same, nothing obvious had changed so she proceeded down her path to her gate. As Hope closed her gate and looked back at her little home she felt a sense of loss but couldn’t put her finger on why she felt this way. With no further thought she walked toward the woods and was determined to find answers.

The trees looked dense and there was a darkness – that you would think would fill you with fear, however it was inviting. As Hope approached the edge of the trees, she stopped and heard a noise and felt something moving about “up there” on her head, in her branches. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out the hand mirror she retrieved earlier and took a look to see what was going on. It was a beautiful bird, sat there looking at her; before she could think of what to do the bird started to sing. The most beautiful of melodies came out of this delightful creature, she felt calmer and prepared to carry on. Thinking to herself:

I shall name the bird Journey.

Hope and Journey entered the woods and manoeuvred their way through the trees, trying not to get her branches tangled with the foliage. Inspecting each tree she passed, looking at each leaf desperately trying to find answers to her predicament. All the while listening to Journey sooth her with song. Suddenly she heard a new tune and it was complementing Journey’s. Once again Hope got her hand mirror out and glanced to see what was happening. Another beautiful bird was sat up there harmonising with Journey. Now hope thought it only fair to name this bird too:

I shall name this bird Duality.

Hope, Journey and Duality continued on their path searching and singing together in perfect harmony. Suddenly a clearing appeared, it was a circular clearing with one lonely tree in the middle, it was huge and looked to be well over a hundred years old. It was so big you could build a small home in its trunk. Hope continued towards it and could see something glistening in the sunshine, it was hanging from the tree. As she approached it another beautiful bird flew down from the other tree and it too had something dangling from its mouth, it was a key. Both items were keys and before she could process what was happening the bird dropped the key into her hands and took a perch in her branches. Hope compared the two keys and they were the same except for their colour – one being blue and the other pink.

what could this mean?

Hope thought to herself.

The third bird joined in with the singing and looked at home with Journey and Duality. Hope put both keys in her pocket with her mirror and started to inspect the tree before her, the leaves were the same as hers, the branches were identical and the aroma was a perfect match. But how and why had this tree which naturally grew from the ground, also grown from Hope’s head and what were the keys purpose. This thought was so tiring and complex to understand, as nothing seemed real or based on the natural order of things, so Hope surmised that if and when she needed to know these things, they would unveil themselves to her in good time.

The third bird seemed to complete the harmony so exceptionally, the sound was enchanting, it made Hope feel less weighed down by her past and her sadness, it elevated her to a place which felt unlike any other, it was as if she had found her home. Not the kind of home she had left behind earlier, it was not that of bricks and mortar it was the sense that home existed inside her – meaning that she was always home and this feeling made Hope feel whole.

 Hope suddenly had a thought and said:

I shall call this third bird Transcendence.

This name felt fitting as this is what she felt upon meeting this bird and hearing the symphony this trio had created made her feel that she had gone beyond ordinary limitations. Hope sat beneath the tree and lay against it, with her branches touching the other tree’s, weaving herself into a comfortable position. Journey, Duality and Transcendence began to sing a slower melody, lulling Hope with a lullaby, soon she was asleep and the sun set. As Hope slept her branches curved around her creating a blanket of leaves and all three birds nuzzled into Hope and one another.

When Hope woke up the next morning she was alone and she felt different, she raised her hands to her head and all she felt was her hair and beneath it her head, simple skin and bone. It was a relief that she had returned to her normal state, however she was sad to loose her friends, Journey, Duality and Transcendence. When she stood up and turned to the tree she had laid under all night, she was shocked to find a door. In front of the door were three little parcels made out of leaves, one was filled with nuts and berries, the second was a cup shape with water and the third was a little growing bud, ready to be planted. Hope ate the berries and nuts, drank the water and carefully put the bud in her pocket, which is when she remembered she had two keys, she pulled them out and went to the door – but neither worked which perplexed Hope very much indeed. Then she had an overwhelming feeling that this door was not for her and she felt strongly that the blue key was the correct key, so she hung it on the door knob and decided to return home.

On Hope’s journey back she started to ponder what this all meant, knowing that her life had been filled with pain from her past she wondered if this was a wake up call from some kind of higher power – such as the force which aligns us and keeps the earth spinning, the sun rising and setting and the tides drawing in and out. Was it a window into the in between, with the duality of body and mind had she found the centre, the answer to – what are mental states and what are physical states? Had she experienced a mental state which took her to another world where trees growing out of heads, bird friends, keys, magical trees and little doors were the norm. Or were these things physically there, tangible and part of the order we know to exist, just undiscovered? Or possibly she had transcended, moving beyond physical needs and realities.

Before she knew it, Hope was at her gate and could see her little home which when she left yesterday she had felt such loss, today she felt excited to return home and be amongst the things she knew to be real. Once Hope had opened the gate and walked up the path she was met by a small trinket box with three beautiful feathers beautifully attached to it, as if they were a gift tag, she knew these patterns they were from her friends; Journey, Duality and Transcendence, this made Hope smile and she knelt down to open the box, inside was a tiny note which read:

Plant the bud, watch it grow – in dirt and darkness, watch it burst through to reach the light, tend to it, water it and even when nothing moves know that growth happens from within and one day you will have a tree which will nourish you with fruit and bring you shade when weary. This growth is part of you physically and mentally, it is your journey and being beyond the limits of all possible experience and knowledge you have transcended from your past and hold the key to your future.

Hope felt a tear fall from her eye and she felt such relief, she reached into her pocket and got the pink key and placed it around her neck as a reminder of her lesson, she then hurried indoors to fetch her gardening tools so she could plant the bud. When she returned outside her three friends were all splashing away in the bird bath, chirping with delight. Hope knew this was the beginning of a new adventure and that there was no turning back.


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Fragile – Illustration and Poetry By Charlotte Farhan

Fragile

My emotions are encased in glass,

self preservation enclosed them there,

in a mason jar
for safe keeping,

fear like a snake in the grass,

infectious despair
simply to scare,

in my jar
I am left weeping.

Fragility is never a choice,

does the ant get to choose it’s height?

does a butterfly design it’s wings?

I hear “stay safe”
from my little voice,

“fear not”
I reply
“this jar is airtight”,

Outside is not for me
for I see the sadness it brings.


Fragile - By Charlotte Farhan

Fragile – By Charlotte Farhan

 


 

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Am I Real -Art and Poetry by Charlotte Farhan

am-i-real-1

 

AM I REAL?

by

Charlotte Farhan

The nature of reality perplexes most,

nothing can “be . . . ” and “not be . . . “,

so when I tell you I feel like a ghost,

please believe me.

Anything outside your mind can be unsure,

but how does something exist?

Does one have to have thunk it – to be sure,

of flesh and bone is all I consist.

Am I mentally constructed,

are my thoughts my own?

or possibly I came to this earth abducted,

or maybe I arose from my tombstone.

Is my conscious mental state related to my body?

for I see myself below,

separating self as I disembody,

left behind is but a puppet show.

 The earth is like water inside a fishbowl,

diminished in size and dimensions,

all unreachable as it slips into a black hole,

staring at my own reflection.


This piece of art and poetry addresses how it feels to be in a state of depersonalisation or derealisation. I experience both as symptoms of my anxiety disorders (OCD, GAD, CPTSD and AGORAPHOBIA) as well as my borderline personality disorder.

Find out more HERE

These sensations and feelings of being unreal or not being able to know what is real or not – have been causing me issues since I was a very young child. The worst times were when my voice used to speed up and I would hear myself speaking a million miles per hour, but others around me heard me speaking at a normal speed, or when I felt objects were to large or too small causing me to question all perspective, but by far the most disturbing is when you feel like an illusion, like a left over imprint.

As someone who has a degree in philosophy and who has studied philosophy for over 10 years now, “the theory of mind” was and still is one of my favourite subjects within philosophy. It has simultaneously helped me to accept that none of us truly know what reality is, as well as further perplex me and leave me questioning everything even more.

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There is not a lot of understanding when it comes to these disorders, often when people do not understand something or have not felt the things being described – it is easy for them to dismiss. However – why would anyone assume their reality is the same as another? There is evidence that we all experience the world differently without having any kind of mental illness or neurological damage.

How am I to know what you see… and how are you to know what I see…?

When I am touched does it feel the same as when you are touched?

When I eat do I taste the same flavours and interpret the textures the same as you?

Do I see the world as a “glass half empty kind of place or half full”?

Do I think the same thoughts?

The list goes on and on…

It is never as simple as “reality is reality”.

So question these ideas more, never judge another persons reality to be wrong or fake and remember that 1 in 5 people will have a mental illness at some point in their lives and some of us will have it for life.

End the stigma and learn how to better understand others and their reality.


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Clouding of Consciousness – Art and Poetry by Charlotte Farhan

Clouding of Consciousness by Charlotte Farhan

Clouding of Consciousness by Charlotte Farhan

Clouding of consciousness,
adaptive defence kicks in,
my mind is filled with fogginess,
thoughts start to fade into rottenness,
no longer within my own skin.

I left me so I could survive,
muted and distorted,
reality and make-believe collide,
identities become contorted,
memories remain unsorted,
personalities I must contrive.

The world becomes bottomless,
no up or down,
just godlessness,
walking through a ghost town,
life is now preparing to shutdown,
parts of me are now autonomous.

There is no sense to be made of this,
autopilot is safer than being discarded,
why would it be better to reminisce,
instead let me be transported,
away from that place still haunted,
throw me into the abyss.

Dissociation has to exist,
without it we would not have been revived,
our pain and abuse dismissed,
leading so many to suicide,
washed away with the tide,
so some of us remain inside.


 

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Make it Stop – Art and Poetry by Charlotte Farhan

Make it Stop - Art and Poetry by Charlotte Farhan

Make it Stop – Art and Poetry by Charlotte Farhan

Waking up,
whipping eyelids open in panic,
heartbeats pound at my chest,
a frame of mind completely manic,
inside is emptiness,
depressed,
with nausea rising as if volcanic,
anxieties flood and infest,
unwanted thoughts,
borderline satanic,
the compulsions arise,
obsessed,
a lump in my throat,
gigantic,
memories pushed down,
repressed.


 

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Being Disabled in an Able Constructed World

Since opening my eyes to the injustices I face on a daily basis and deciding to speak out, stand up and create change, it has been a rude awakening with an upward struggle of epic proportions.

When you realise the discrimination which is faced by people like yourself, who have disabilities it is daunting to imagine ever overcoming the stigma. The world is slowly becoming more aware of the struggles many different people face with the accessibility to people’s lives through the internet allowing for us to see the most vulnerable amongst us as well as the most privileged. This revolution of information is empowering to certain minority groups and marginalised people, allowing us to have a voice and a platform to discuss things which have never truly been heard – on a mass scale.

There is still a massive issue with how people see disabilities and chronic illness, especially those which are “unseen”, such as mental illnesses, neurological conditions, autoimmune diseases, heart disease, diabetes, dementia, and even cancer, the list goes on…

The term invisible illness refers to any medical condition that is not outwardly visible to others, even healthcare professionals. An individual with a disability is a person who: Has a physical or mental impairment that substantially limits one or more major life activities; has a record of such an impairment; or is regarded as having such an impairment.

For those who do not know, I have been diagnosed and living with disabilities most of my life, they are all “invisible”, even if not to me.

Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Psychotic Depression, Borderline Personality Disorder, Agoraphobia, Generalised Anxiety Disorder, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Attention Deficit Disorder, Depersonalisation, Derealisation,  Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Autism, Diabetes, Chronic Erythema NodosumRheumatoid arthritisPolycystic ovary syndrome.

With such a long list of chronic illnesses and disabilities, I am considered complex and have as a consequence been treated as difficult or been left to fall through the cracks of the system, not fitting into a single box to receive medical care.

Due to this “able” world we live in – I can’t even access medical care as the NHS in England does not recognise my disabilities as housebound? Even though I have not been outside, alone, for over 9 years, and sometimes can’t leave my home even when assisted, meaning at this present time (as I have no way of getting to the doctors when they are open even if I was able to go out assisted) I have NO medical care whatsoever; my medication is up for review and because of my lack of access to the services, to get reviewed I am without any medication also.

Now tell me how a person like myself is to feel?

The strongest feelings which sore through me are that of being left to die, abandoned once again, rejected by the world, by society. Being considered “high functioning” is a joke when all this apparently translates to is that of knowing my rights and being aware of my own mistreatment; as it certainly does not mean I can “function”.

Friends and family often forget about these “invisible” disabilities, asking you to go places you can’t, or not making any effort in including you in plans as they assume there is no way for you to be accommodated. Being spoken about as if you were a child and unable to make your own choices on what is best for you. An enormous pet peeve of mine is being told:

“You seem fine”

“You seem better today”

“You seem so relaxed and calm”

Unfortunately these well meant sentiments are damaging, pushing us back down, or inwardly; left feeling even more misunderstood or under the microscope. Often the reality is you are NOT fine, relaxed or calm, it is just you have adapted your behaviour as best you can to not alienate yourself, or that the symptoms you have are internal and there is no way anyone would ever “see” them, however this does not mean they are not there. As for “you seem better today”, well this one is by far the most stigmatising and leads to the most misunderstandings.

So take note able people – yes, we have some good minutes, hours, days, weeks and some even have years, this does not mean we are “cured” or that we are “better”, it just means like everyone else we fluctuate in moods, hormones; and that life can treat us well or bad which can alleviate or compound our issues. This need of yours to tell us we are “looking better” may be well meaning but it is truly just a way for your privilege to further separate us, it is as though you felt happier that our disabilities are quiet and not present to you at that moment, making you assume you can tell us how we feel or what you hope us to feel. You do not do this because you wish to be unkind, in fact the motivation seems to be the opposite, however the affect these simple words jumbled into a sentences causes, is unimaginable to those who have not experienced this existence.

In order to “cope” or seem like I am “coping” sedation with drugs, such as painkillers or cannabis, allow me to shut down most of my thoughts and concentrate on being present with my friends and family for short periods of time which means being on a unrealistic high around most people, confusing the situation more, as you are never truly yourself. Many people like myself take drugs for pain relief or some kind of mind altering substance in order to “function” as best they can in company. Through societal pressures to conform, we do this more for you; the able ones. Many of us learn early on how we are received when we are “out there” with our disabilities on show – as much as you can when they are unseen. After being told we are attention seekers, drama queens, liabilities, hand-fulls, trouble, a worry, or after just losing people as they up and leave because you are “too hard work”; this is when the survival skills kick in, conformity becomes your best defence, until you are unable to maintain the facade and become the reclusive “weirdo” society deemed you to be all along.

There are so many things to discuss with regards to being in an able dominated world, with everyone’s story being different. These are my musings on the subject at this present time, with the hope to add more to this discussion. Since being rejected and my civil liberties being taken from me I have been awoken, my only chance to survive is to change this, is to stand up and scream at the top of my lungs;

“I will not go silently, you can’t erase me, I have rights and I shall be heard”

For all those who call me: “a victim who wears her disabilities as a badge of honour”  you seem to be confused?

The way to survive after being a victim, marginalised, discriminated against and continuously pushed down is to play to your strengths and extend your hand to those who can not even do this, there is no shame in having been a victim or even if you are right now. Victim is NOT a dirty word! Chances are if you are a “victim” it means you have survived – you have faced something which unless experienced by others they will not understand, all experiences are unique and can be hard to understand even when you have the same disabilities – however checking your able privilege is not difficult it just means you must place your ego to one side and accept another humans experience.

Even though my fight may not always be as strong each day, as some days feeling defeated is all that can be felt, just breathing is too much to bear. The commitment inside me to this is my purpose for existing. Not being able to have children, with no blood family; this is my legacy, my nurturing, me giving of myself as selflessly as possible. This is my art, my activism, this is my life and not a “trend” or “fad” for you to disagree with.


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