THE COLOUR OF MADNESS
A Blog About Living with Mental Illness
Signs and Sadness
I know this sounds nuts, but it’s actually not the point of this post, purely an explanation for what followed, which seemed far more representative of a sign from the universe… Where was I? Ok, so if you’ve been a reader for a while, you’ll be aware that I am technically a ‘voice hearer’. Let it be known that I don’t like that term but haven’t got the wherewithal to come up with a better alternative right now. Sorry, it’s 1am, and I’m emerging from a rabbit hole.
Anyway. The “voices” vary in… style? That’s definitely not the right word. Some are absolutely alters, that’s fine, I’ve almost accepted that. Others though, well… let’s just say I’ve been pestered by what I can only describe as entities from a spirit realm. This is a whole thing, largely because it conflicts with my world view, but that’s not the point of this post, so for context I had an ‘entity’ scenario – it was in the form of a name, which was in relation to a situational link to another name which upon investigation turned out to be an unsolved murder case. Not liking the potential implications of this, I ignored this second name, apologised to the first name and then eventually relented and looked up name #2.
A specific Name #2 search directed to a magistrate’s court document page. I scrolled down a few names and rather than Name #2, I instead saw an inquest relating to a familiar name in my personal life. This person was someone I had worked with who died by suicide many years ago. I actually wrote about their funeral here.
So I read it, didn’t I. Over a hundred pages of the inquest into her death. Couldn’t help myself. You see, this death, well it was two months before our last attempt and as much as I loathe the connection people make between suicides and other suicides… This situation had absolutely impacted our own. I’m avoiding details so this might make no sense to you, but our attempt from then has been fucking with my head a lot lately, in many ways and for many reasons and I just need to write something out. So coming across this particular piece of information so bizarrely and right now, well. It’s weirdly cathartic and simultaneously mind fucky.
I now know exactly how this person, the woman I knew, died. I know where & how she was found, who’s been blamed, what measures have been undertaken to prevent similar circumstances. Reading it was an ordeal. A grief for her, a grief for us, anger at the mental health system’s inadequacies, a sense of injustice for her, a lot more questions about our own experience. Frustration, sadness. But I’m glad I read it. Like a sort of partial closure I didn’t know I needed.
Just as I wrote that I heard that entity again, the one that gave me the name (it’s not my deceased friend) – She said that’s what she wants, a sense of closure. It was pleading, hopeful – now the room is suddenly chilly and I feel so incredibly guilty that I can hear her asking me for help and while I’m hardly capable, I can’t even bring myself to even try. The name she gave me, maybe I can look into it a little further, see if any other paths cross. I couldn’t find him in those court documents Google claimed he was in. Maybe Stalkbook will have more answers. Then at least she’ll know I tried. I don’t even believe in this stuff. It scares me. Fuck. 😔
13 Comments on “Signs and Sadness”
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THE COLOUR OF MADNESS 
Yikes.
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Yikes! I’m sorry you had to come across it, but if it gives you closure then I am glad you read it! X
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your light will attract onkysimply remember that it is your light and lights up for you and you alone…
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something happened as I typed… my habd
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poor hand to eye coordination going on here… although the screen is jumping about… I am, though, sending out a watch over you team… just in case… you aren’t alone outthere 😜💞😊
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candles lit… ⛔ entry by invitation only…
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Act I Scene III
So, you dare to take deaths name in the vein,
Sure let’s numb life’s pain,
Suicide by any other claim,
Yet the rider of this horse shows no such disdain,
And conflict is unavoidable here,
These experiments called life are not small beer,
You hear lost memories of others lives once lived,
Truly a gift you give,
Grotesque is life’s drama’s of mimetic desire,
Acting to avoid and get out of life’s mires,
Yet this is not the same,
As listening intently and re-writing the play,
For Hume, Durkheim and Kant could not hear,
In fact they got nowhere near,
The realisation to be a Hearer,
To be a Seer,
So, life’s chariot is to be pulled,
Then sure wheel follows horse,
And it’s not much fun,
Yet an orrery of errors have also been made,
For rider and horse are always one and the same,
So Colours take heed you are your own steed,
And besides I thought you’d listened,
I thought you’d heard,
In Madness the Colours are always first,
There is no silence amidst blossoms of souls star seeds,
And the hushed whisper of voices,
Often well rehearsed,
Is yet another chapter another verse,
For Colours and Madness,
You are both rider and steed,
Re-Write the script,
Act I Scene III
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check out the lyrics and apply to the self chatting with selves…
candles burning tonight too..
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check out Cattales on here… Stacy gets it too… see her blog on dust… then imagine each particle finding it’s voice and telling his or her story… don’t be scared… I worry about that, that’s all… 😊
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💜
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I’ve been prompted by Mamata, not personally but by her reaching out with a ❤… so I’m doing the same… 💞… pretty numbed out myself but hey at least it’s quiet that way…
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Thank you 💜
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for many years I went out of my way to deter people from liking anything I wrote, this was when I was LinkedIn, and here I am smiling ear to ear at your like… so thank you too…
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