guess what....i'm baaaack....
i gave a presentation at the nami-nj annual conference on saturday 12-14-13 and a new friend
elena kravitz
asked me to post it, so here it is:
(much love and thanks to mike veny for back-up on drums)
imagine
you're a slave
you're looking for freedom
you meet up with moses/harriet tubman
it's the middle of the night
and these are her instructions
If you hear the dogs, keep going. If you see the torches, keep going. If there’s shouting after you, keep going. Don’t ever stop. Keep going. If you want a taste of freedom, keep going.
now it's 2013 and
you're jacquese armstrong
you've been having a lot of trouble this past year and a half
you feel'
like a fugitve in your own life
you see a quote by moses that strikes you
so you write this poem
“underground railroad (of the mind)”
[inspired by harriet tubman/moses]
by jacquese armstrong
i hear her last instructions
keep going
no matter what
but i got hellhounds
on my trail
and the blue intrusive rain falls
daggers/each drop
a deadly reminder
(keep moving)
found a river to
wash away my scent
fell in the clayed mud dried
on my skin but
i keep runnin
labyrinth times 100
circles running endless
closed latched doors
shouts from open windows plague
an already vulnerable mind
the wind is not
my friend
i don’t concentrate on trees
i follow deep blue black skies’
Star tellin me
hope
freedom
tomorrow
tomorrow and tomorrow
and tomorrow
should i stop today i’ll be
eaten alive
so i will walk/run/crawl
‘cause i hear her voice
urgin me
KEEP GOING
the deepness of night
don’t upset me
‘cause i know
morning will come
i got nowhere to stay
KEEP GOING
angular pain
and diagonal circumference
synapses not communicating
and the laugh/cry thing
is strapped on my back
KEEP GOING
KEEP GOING
KEEP GOING
rest…
in the morning
when joy comes
rest
in the morning
when joy comes
rest
in the morning
when joy comes
and then
i hear the last skeleton
words callin out my head
...keep going
if you want a taste of freedom
keep going...
(end of poem)
I got started writing seriously in college when I had my first psychotic break. I’m diagnosed with schizo-affective disorder and the voices would dictate poetry (among other things). I was an engineering student then and had never thought about writing projects at all, let alone constantly the way I do now. Now, I write like I breathe. It’s a vital force in my life.
That was 32 years ago. My writing has now become an integral part of who I am. It’s the most powerful weapon in my arsenal to combat the ups and downs of this disease. My writing reflects where I am at any particular point in time and is sometimes a great tool for understanding myself.
You can say that Creativity is the ability to make something out of nothing, literally. If you believe in God, you know that being created in his own image gives us this Power, just in varying degrees. When I am having trouble, like I have been for the last year and a half, I am usually at my most creative.
When I get really stuck, I can write an essay or a memoir. Writing, whether getting published or not, is a very cathartic process for me. You have to know yourself, your motivations and your defenses in order to do it honestly. This is a prerequisite for fighting any particular illness or symptom. The process of writing reinforces by making you stronger within. You come through on the other side of trouble renewed, because not only have you revealed to yourself a part of your truth; you have created and no one can take that from you; you own it.
Creative writing enhances critical thinking and problem-solving skills. If you are like I have been this year, there are constant challenges and solutions become elusive at times. When you can discern ways to deal with or solve your own problems, it bolsters your self-esteem which contributes to a higher level of wellness.
Also, creative writing and other expressive arts enhance the recovery process just by being a fun activity; something we tend to forget about needing. I know I do. Creativity and imagination spark a lightness in the soul that dislodges burdens, if only for that point in time.
As I’ve said, I write like I breathe, it’s just that necessary. It provides an out for me. At any given time, whether I’m in a setback or thriving, I always have a creative project I’m working on. It creates a parallel universe for me, that lets me come out on top; no matter the outcome. It’s a place where I can succeed on my own terms.
I jokingly say sometimes that I have my own planet. My blog is named the view from my planet. I say I live on another planet because most people don’t go through what I go through and therefore their frame of reference is much different from mine. I used to do “In our own voice” a lot for NAMI and one of the participants in the video we use says, “mental illness is not for sissies,” and it isn’t. It’s no cake walk, but through creativity and imagination you can make a luxurious place out of a shack. It also goes a long way toward making someone else understand your humanity.
In this world that sometimes rains mean-spirited stigmatizing people, creativity is a broad sturdy umbrella. Once you’re inside, it is a blanket and a cup of cocoa. It’s the friend that let’s you do you, no matter how far from the norm it may be.
This is why the arts are so important in general. Without creative endeavors or appreciation for them, life is like a robotic sequence of tasks on a conveyor belt. You are robbed of feeling and that is the worst calamity for a human being. The ability to feel and express that feeling through art or just connect through art with the human that created it is a gift. Not only does it make the world a more understandable place, it makes us as humans notice our sameness and not our differences.
###
