Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: recovery

  • poem: time for change – 31/03/22


    “TIME FOR CHANGE”
    (c) 2022 by Lauren M. Hancock

    it’s time to change,
    to embrace love and life,
    there is nothing I would erase;
    each moment and breath
    a welcome moment
    or an opportunity to learn
    to grow and accept the phase.
    Time and time again
    I found myself on the plane of existence
    wondering when would Life listen, with her
    pinpricked ears would she discern my
    truest desires?
    Or would she smile fortuitously upon the request of others
    while piece by piece, brick by brick
    my own home laid unfinished, nowhere have I to place
    my handbag down,
    expected to be lingering already at home?
    We don’t even have a home,
    none with a shared hearth, with warmth,
    with comfort.
    Essentially, my love for you is meant to be
    a mistake,
    a princess fetched from her turret,
    tethered as, as of late.
    The magpie flaps and soars,
    joins the eucalypt leaves in a shading spot
    He, you, really are a protector, but now
    learn your skills, hone them further,
    Princess can be by herself for now.

    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
    Photo by strikers on Pixabay.

  • poem: the colours, a beginning – 11/03/22

    poem: the colours, a beginning – 11/03/22

    The colours, they always brought me hope,
    Aura-binding, hue-enhancing,
    Pink, yellow, blue, green, indigo,
    But where is the pink, the love I know?
    I went through life from goals to achievements,
    Strengths to knowledge,
    Triumph and growth,
    But I fell apart,
    Underlying predisposition,
    Some of us break at the seams,
    Myself: undiagnosed manic depressive.
    Etching large shadowy figures on my
    Bedroom walls,
    Self-harm,
    Tears they would fall,
    Such joy, elation at some
    Then tirades I’d turn,
    Over perfectionism,
    What was going on…?
    My warning signs?
    Even I failed to learn.
    So begins my tale,
    Decade-long struggles
    Horrifying relapses to be

    witnessed and unfold
    Truth be told
    Not all needs enormous detail…
    (C) 2022 Lauren M. Hancock poetry and prose. All rights reserved.
    Image from Pixabay

  • poem: schizoaffectivity – 08/03/22

    poem: schizoaffectivity – 08/03/22


    SCHIZOAFFECTIVITY
    family can be a strange thing.
    One minute you’re loved then the next you’re like a pestilence,
    an unwanted being.
    Of course, bringing it upon oneself, well, that’s something different,
    but in the end, I was made the tyrant,
    laid away on the shelf
    though only temporarily.

    And I suppose, I suppose it is so,
    this falling-apart thing that happens to my mind
    when I go temporary awry,
    momentarily insane,
    is this the pushing button inside, or on my brain
    that makes me ill for two closed months
    when I’m made to be locked away,
    my words spoken loudly in vain?

    I am just a patient,
    mentally, I have delusions,
    grand, carried out about the land
    and while I whine and scream,
    still want to shine,
    in my hand a small cup
    of perilous potions to be sucked down inside.

    The system wants to treat,
    they do it in the best ways they can
    but some they cannot help
    people like me initially
    on medications I feel they burden me,
    I choke.

    There’s nothing different about health these days
    in fact, there IS, but in time I will realise
    that some just wanted to help
    some were happy for me to shine
    and like the ordinary world,
    with some others, they wouldn’t pay my words
    a dime.

    I understand I can’t always please,
    temporarily the medicine makes me want to heave
    there’s just so much of it,
    my addled mind,
    years ago progressed from bipolar
    to schizoaffective disorder,
    whilst in my “prime”.

    This tale can go on far, far longer
    but I won’t give away the book,
    I just want others to have a peek in,
    have a tiny look,
    and oblige me this favour,
    won’t you take my words,
    many were my saviours,
    but most of all,
    close knit:-
    family, friends, and a brave tolerant doctor.
    And her protégé, of course,
    but I cannot name her.
    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
    Cartoon photo by mohamed_hassan on Pixabay
    Original photo of myself

  • poem: amazing grace – 20/01/22

    poem: amazing grace – 20/01/22

    amazing grace,
    learning to not take centre stage,
    but to share attention and time with others,
    growing less selfish and learning to enjoy a new family
    learn and love
    amalgamate share energies —
    enough!

    I retreat, the Hermit, the rowboat goes on and on down a canal
    led by my hero of the tale,
    but the truth of the matter is that i am really so self assured out in public and in company
    but here, secluded, I am bitter, grumpy, temperamental and nasty.

    I thought i could not help it but i learned to chew the bit and hold my tongue
    for long enough long enough to prove responsibility and a resolution to improve:
    so tough.

    I was their punching bag, or so it seemed
    though i assumed a dereference and respect from those whom
    i desired to deflect
    understanding the need to get along with differing personalities
    and reassuring that that i can do this
    surely i will do this with ease
    ease of intent
    i will get out of this bind
    hellbent hellbent
    out of the ward tot semi freedom
    the arms of wandering teams of carriers of rediscovered souls.
    (20/01/22)
    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

  • Poem: Anomaly – 26/10/21

    Poem: Anomaly – 26/10/21

    Finally, the moment of truth has arrived
    where I will be revealed,
    take all things in my stride,
    it’s not as though
    all is done, but
    I exist, smilingly,
    holding my world together,
    nevermore shall I come undone.
    For I am too knowledgeable for that,
    my warning signs,
    traffic light symptoms,
    I’ve had enough of that,
    because I know,
    I know,
    that my healing,
    recovery, took place within,
    at home.
    Took the opportunity to shamelessly
    look after me,
    wrapped in a bubble,
    cocooning,
    and here I am,
    self-cotton-wooling with
    the ability to still breathe,
    I’ve worked on, working on me,
    the results, fruitful,
    now, where’s the anomaly?
    (22/10/21)
    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

    Image source

    Previous Post: Welcome – 24/10/21

    Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

  • Poem: Breaking News – 27/01/21

    Poem: Breaking News – 27/01/21

    The journey is almost over, 
    the pain, the suffering, the ailing, 
    all to be washed away from the nights and the mornings, 

    the bravery is there to be seen, 
    highs and lows, during so much time, 
    she’s been stoic throughout it all, 
    the therapy has not seized her courage, 
    or taken away her positivity,

    she’s been fighting and carrying on
    throughout what has sometimes been a struggle,
    demonstrating her resilience and capabilities. 

    Today’s the second last session, 
    she has strength within, 
    she has power throughout, 

    the flushing of medications promises
    one more attendance
    to be borne with a grin, 

    I am proud of her quiet resolve, 
    and with this illness 
    she has demonstrated the ability to combat the ill emotions, 
    upsets and suffering, 
    her coping strategies long ago set into motion,
    brightness in moving forward and re-focussing.

    She will walk away from this time with her head held high
    knowing she’s combatted this illness as though
    it’s barely stopped her,
    hardly stalled her in her tracks,
    hardly sent her life awry,

    she’s been able to fight through the side effects,
    has kept herself busy,
    has remained hopeful,
    even when she was feeling so poorly and weak,
    she approached it with the hope of a new tomorrow.

    And I know that when she strides away from that seat
    that final time,
    triumphant in heart, body and mind,
    she will feel oh, so fine
    that she’s combatted this
    in the best way she could have handled it,
    my gracious mother of mine.

    We await the opportunity to celebrate this milestone,
    hers and our relief together in due time.

     © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. 
    Photo by Diego PH on Unsplash

    Lauren M. Hancock poetry and prose home

  • Poem: Coming Home – 01/10/20

    Poem: Coming Home – 01/10/20

    Coming home,
    returning to that comfort,
    grasping onto something that will make
    her feel some level of homeliness.

    Away for a time,
    in a foreign place,
    alone, mostly,
    far from loved ones.

    Recovering, recovering,
    she’s been so strong thus far,
    we’re so proud of her,
    I wish she’d know this.

    Coming home, shall she return to our arms,
    our welcoming this day?
    An outpouring of comfort,
    of care, concern,
    our desire to attend to all her needs,
    come what may.

    She has provided for us all,
    she has lived her life in willing servitude
    to ensure we have been given the
    best possible upbringing,
    and now is time to return the loving kindness,
    we are always here for you, Mother,
    please know this.

    Beckon and call as much as you please,
    we will be here to listen, give,
    whatever you need,
    if you request hours of rest,
    we’ll allow you that, too,
    even if we want to be close to you.

    To hear your wise words,
    your perspective on the world,
    your advice,
    your experiences,
    your frustrations, fears,
    pains,
    future dreams,

    I am all ears,
    I am here, willing to be,
    here for you,
    listening,
    in whole, not part,
    in all,
    everything.

    Let us roll away the painful headaches,
    the sorrows,
    the calamities within our minds,
    let us deal with the blow upon blow
    because progress is on the horizon,
    future brightness is what we like.

    Allow us to understand that we are on
    this journey together,
    that we will make it through with each other,
    there’s not much to understand further,
    we will fight this battle together.

    Thank you for everything,
    I hope strong Father returns home today
    accompanied by my brave, courageous mother.

    © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Irina Iriser on Unsplash

    Home

    All Posts

    Join me also at:

    Instagram

    YouTube

    SoundCloud

  • Reflective Piece: ‘Inane Thoughts’ and Combating Low Self-Esteem

    Reflective Piece: ‘Inane Thoughts’ and Combating Low Self-Esteem

    When I was younger, I used to worry about the most inane of things. 

Why didn't I have enough Facebook friends, why didn't that boy call me back? Was there something wrong with me? Was I too overwhelming with my contact?

Then, how many calories in a thin slice of Cracker Barrel cheese? Because if I was going to eat heavy dairy, it be better taste-worthy. How much mass could I lose in one day? If the scales said 300 grams I'd be disappointed but at least it was something, right?

So, if I stopped drinking as much fluid to fill my stomach up, then surely the numbers would drop more?
Because I felt beautiful when I was skin and bone, did that make me otherwise when I was not?

Why were other people more confident than me? Why wasn't I progressing in life as easily?
Why did I get sick? Depressed, obsessed, manic? Why did I have these mental illnesses? 

I guess some of the questions weren't so inane, after all. 

A lonely girl on a broken path, wondering where she fit, trying to locate the scattered pieces of herself. 

And then I started to realise:

It wasn't about how I looked. It was about my personal outlook. How I viewed the world determined my emotions. And the way I treated others had a reactive effect on the way I then felt about myself. My self esteem slowly stopped plummeting when I stopped obsessing about appearances. Why had I focused so intensely on how I was viewed and perceived? A body is just a shell.  

When I thought less of myself and more about the world around me, such as passions and interests, my friends, my family, suddenly, things started to be less scary.

I became... happy. Then, happier, then satisfied in myself. I began to again chase my dreams, my passions, fervently. Weight became a non-issue. In fact, I became the opposite of what I long strove for, but it didn't matter to me, not anymore, because I accepted an image is an image, and a personal truth and belief can be but a mirage. 

Why am I writing all this? Why am I sharing these thoughts, you might wonder?

I want to share there's a silver lining to every cloud, no matter whether one's suffering, internally aching, unable to speak up about what is paining them. Please know you're stronger than you think.

  • Poem: The Sun is Pleased – 29/11/19

    Poem: The Sun is Pleased – 29/11/19

     The sun beams down upon me:
     he is happy with me today. 
     Sometimes he is disappointed,
     other times he may be sorely dismayed.
      
     But I can tell from his 
     loving warmth which spreads
     upon my complexion 
     that today he is pleased with me,
     and the steps I am undertaking in my life
     to cause positive action. 
      
     I am able to draw upon experiences which, 
     though once painful and caused 
     such internal suffering,
     can now be turned into something positive,
     as though to say,
      
     “Look where I came from, 
     and where I have been,” 
      
     then the comparison of what is fruitful and kind, 
     and what I have become,
     why, I’ve become myself again:
     from previous terrors there is 
     no need to run and hide. 
      
     The illness, the illnesses, 
     the secondary causes, 
     the uncontrollable sense of living,
     it was in no way assured.
      
     I lived flighty, in soaring delusional heights,
     I didn’t know what I was doing,
     only wished for worlds to explore
     and as I crashed and burned many a-time,
     faux pas and mental instability a-plenty,
     I wonder now,
     how it is that I am still here,
     alive,
     writing line upon line. 
      
     But I have healed from the brokenness,
     the fragility,
     the shattered scenes,
     and here I am, 
     living freely and openly breathing.
      
     I am here, 
     and I will take each opportunity as wholly mine,
     there is no need,
     no reasoning,
     to falter again,
     or trip down the line. 
      
     The sun twinkles in the corner of my eye,
     I think I see him wink. 
     I now know for certain that he is inextricably pleased.
      
     © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock 
    also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

    Return to All Posts

    Home