Mental health Archives - Rob Joseph

Cast off the mask

Rob Joseph — Tue, 03 Oct 2023 12:50:52 +0000

Be yourself,

be free,

cast off the mask that you hide behind,

Let yourself breathe.

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Ripped Away

Rob Joseph — Sun, 01 Oct 2023 17:16:24 +0000

I couldn’t believe it,

When you said that you wanted to be with me,

It was a fantasy come true,

But the madness in my head, ripped it all away.

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Rosemarie, the secretive girl.

Rob Joseph — Sun, 01 Oct 2023 11:18:48 +0000

The secretive girl,Just a mystery to me,Behind the barbed wires,Where no one can see.

You hide in the darkness,Just light from above,But you have a wanting,A craving for love.

But you are locked away,And you play solitaire,Scratching at the wall,Pulling out your hair.

The pain gets too much,The tears run so free,The oppressive isolation,It’s all for Rosemarie.

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Behind the hidden mask

Rob Joseph — Sun, 01 Oct 2023 09:47:09 +0000

The mask that you wear,
And you peek quietly from behind,
Let it shatter to the floor,
And unveil yourself to me.

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In the castle walls

Rob Joseph — Sun, 01 Oct 2023 09:22:46 +0000

The castle walls,
That keep me in,
Stone blocks,
That keep you out,
Break down the walls,
If you can,
And search for me.
For I am there,
Hiding in the shadows,
Pressed tightly against the cold stone blocks.

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Mental and physical scars, a blemish on the soul

Rob Joseph — Sun, 24 Sep 2023 12:54:00 +0000

Scar

We all have scars, some visible, a blemish on the skin, others unseen, unknown to the casual observer.

I have both from times of hardship. I have a visible wound on my left index finger, a scar left over from the surgeon who cleaned out an injury that was infected deeply from a time in Denmark. And another on my knee from childhood games.
But these marks on my skin are like a memory to me, a story of times past, like a photograph or a short holiday film. These scars are the signs of growing up and are the chapters in my life.

But the unseen scars demand attention, the screaming in my head, the pain that does not die. These scars are the stories of a haunted past, not the chapters of my life, but the misery dealt out.

Depression, social phobia and a personality disorder. Anxiety disorders, OCD and PTSD. The invisible scars of a time that no child should have to endure. These are the scars that I truly live with, day after day, week after week. The medications to hold my sanity in check, to deaden the depression and to ease the thoughts of violence that course through my mind.
It’s easy to blame the mental scars for the hardship in life, the poor decisions and the broken facade, but people caused this pain: people who didn’t teach me the childhood basics and made me distrust their kind.

We all carry scars, from a moment captured in time to the deep anguish in childhood—a mark on the skin or a blemish on the fabric of the mind.

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