No-One Knows Where Some Of Us Go


SKU e-book Category

175 in stock


By Clara Richards

ISBN: 978-1-84991-700-1
Published: 2012
Pages: 80
Key Themes: Mental Health, Psychosis, Biographical


A personal account of dealing with early onset Depressive Psychosis

About the Author

Clara Richards was born in August 1986 and raised in Lincolnshire. She was diagnosed in 2011 with depressive psychosis. Clara lives with her partner and beloved rabbits in Lincolnshire and enjoys writing and craftwork, along with exploring the great outdoors.

Book Extract

Welcome To My World

I always sit down and want to write but my life has nothing worth writing about in it. I watch television programmes about great writers who just seem to have this knack for creating wonderful visionary work about something that they really believe in. The trouble is I am stuck there because I don’t think I have anything at all that I really believe in. I have fads where something I suddenly start doing means the absolute world to me but it soon dies its death as does everything else that I seem to touch.

I am apparently unwell, I am a depressive psychotic which basically means I am making my life a lot harder than it actually should be, but I can’t help it so they say, yet I feel in complete and utter control of my body as everything that I am doing seems the right thing to do at that point in time. My hair is thin and falling out and I actually long for the day when it all falls out; at least I will be one thing or another, not a partly balding creature. I am longing to hold a cigarette; I don’t smoke but I think I should definitely be smoking right now, it would fit the picture that I have in my head of the perfect writer creating the perfect story. The scene that I am in right now looks completely different in my head; I am not a plump balding confused individual, I am instead a sleek and elegant creature tapping manicured nails that are slightly chipped (classily of course) across an old typewriter in a small room that of course is damp and festering but it has the charm that all writers crave. Smoke from my half smoked slim cigarette twirls about me as my ideas take flight. I guess to me that seems glamorous right now in comparison to the nothing I feel on a daily basis, but those writers I admired probably were looking for something more as well, the good old ‘grass is greener’ situation once again.

It feels like I have constantly been looking at other people’s grass, never satisfied with the state of my own; probably that is in fact how I managed to get into the situation of nothingness so recently. Should a life that has nothing in it feel so hard to wade through? Surely if as I describe it my life was indeed empty would it be such an ache and torture some days to endure, you would think I would be able to just glide through it without a care for anything as nothing would matter in a world of nothing. The things that I look forward to in this very murky domain that I have found myself in seem to pass so quickly and without any of the great impact that I thought they would create, leaving me in a further slump of depression that I had before. Maybe I am placing too much happiness and suspense of my plans for myself in this new and apparently ‘free to make a fresh start’ world.
I am not longing for much, just a little adventure, but my mind seems unable to conjure up anything and my so called condition prevents me from being able to achieve it anyway as I am practically housebound by this anxiety and paranoia. The thing is, I think I could get out of the house but something stops me. Is it actually this anxiety or is it the fact that deep down I don’t want to? Again I am sure that I am thinking far too much, everyone says that it is not good for me to sit and think all day, but that is the one thing which they cannot control in my life, they cannot actually get inside my head. Of course my head is occupied a great deal by my negative thoughts but there is still a good amount of me left, well at least I am hoping it is me and I have not been tricked into accepting it as me with this medication which I swear would take my soul if it could but I am hanging onto it for now. That has to be a sign that I am not ready to throw in the towel just yet, doesn’t it?


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