This is a piece of art I did in my final year of school for my A-level. It is a piece of art which has huge significance to me, and I’m no longer too self-conscious to say I’m proud of. Bear with me whilst I put it into some context…
For Halloween we decided to launch a campaign to remind people that there is nothing scary about talking about mental health. We asked our friends, family and wider community to share their experiences and the benefits they’ve felt from speaking out.
I used to look back at the last three years, to the start of my mental health journey, where I was first struck by the disease that almost killed me on many occasions.
My house was made of sticks, it came crashing down, you crushed it with your bare hands.
I am a mental health advocate. I live it, I breath it and I will work endlessly to spread word about the cause.
It is a bit like that wayward friend, the one always up to no good; she gets you into all kinds of trouble but don’t worry because it’s a rush.
I got in, can you believe it.
I was late, maybe an hour or twelve, after the first month you stop counting, stop noticing, like so many things now time is just one of them. Sometimes it’s in the small things, a glass dropping water into a disappearing puddle, or a splash of bright yellow upon white walls, one second there and the next gone, irrelevant imaginary mirages.