£5.00
117 in stock
By Nicky Thomas
ISBN: 978-1-904697-94-7
Published: 2005
Pages: 85
Key Themes: poetry, depression, self-harm, depression, psychotherapy
“Nicky has found a creative way of channeling her feelings and has produced a piece of work that is an inspiration to people who have experienced mental health problems. It is also of great value to us professionals and we should not forget that an essential part of our continuing medical education is listening to patients” – Dr Eleni Palazidou MD, PhD, MRCP, MRCPSYCH
Description
Nicky Thomas’ extraordinary book of poetry charts her feelings and experiences of depression and the recovery of some stability in her life. Nicky found that writing her book proved a cathartic process and helped her to overcome her depression and stop self-harming. Nicky hopes that this book maybe able to help someone else feel less alone in their despair and help families, friends and health professionals gain a greater understanding. This is a wonderfully strong book from a very strong and determined woman.
Depression, although so common, is still so badly misunderstood – on the one hand it is not taken seriously and people are told to ‘cheer up’ and ‘try harder’; on the other hand the stigma leaves many people further isolated and discriminated against. Taking medication is often seen as admitting defeat, failing; when taking medication for any physical order is socially acceptable. Nicky Thomas
About the Author
Nicola Thomas was born in 1968. Diagnosed with clinical depression at an early age, Nicky has had to endure twelve separate hospital admissions and years of psychotherapy before her eventual recovery. Nicola feels that her recovery has been aided by her writing – whenever she is depressed she writes about her feelings. It is no coincidence that when she is writing Nicky stops self-harming. As well as being a successful author, Nicky is currently studying at college and works voluntarily.
Book Extract
THE CLOCKWORK CLOWN
The clockwork clown
Is back in town.
As bright as a new pin;
Red nose, enormous grin.
Whizzing round and round
But – now winding down.
Hey what’s wrong?
It used to jog so happily along.
Now unable to even mark time,
From the ridiculous to the sublime.
The answer is easy
Can’t you see?
Quick wind it up with the key.
BUT WHERE IS THE KEY?
The only key to be found,
Is that of the locked ward.
WALL
The sun or car headlights chase
patterns across the blank.
Up close, the furrows of brush strokes –
Cream dusted with grey.
Her breathing is almost under control:
I wish I was dead I wish I was dead
I wish I was dead I wish I was dead
I wish I was dead I wish I was dead
I wish I was dead
The only words that bring relief.
CURTAIN
Nicky’s theatre stood halfway between the hospital and the rubbish tip. It was strangely out of character with the other buildings surrounding it – for it had been designed and built by an actress, and not by expert architects and construction workers. It was also positioned unfavourably – next to the cemetery, constantly in the shadow of the church.
However, despite all this, the theatre would have been open for a quarter of a century the following year. There were no plans to celebrate this occasion. Indeed, there were no plans for its future at all. In fact, it did not really have a chance of a future as a playhouse. The quality of the scripts and the acting had been getting worse over the years. The performances no longer seemed to benefit or reflect the needs and interests of the community; or indeed relate to real life. Fiction and Non-fiction tangled up. Tragedy and Comedy now almost interchangeable and both boring and overrated. Inside, the decoration cold, drab and uninviting; the seating uncomfortable.
Still, its morbid atmosphere had a strange fascination. The dark corridors were said to be haunted. The ghost (of restless type) trapped in limbo between life and death.
Later that summer, during a minor storm, it just collapsed.
Not surprising really; as it was later found to have had no foundations.
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