Stigma Fighters: Clara Martin

Home/Stigma Fighters/Stigma Fighters: Clara Martin

Stigma Fighters: Clara Martin

Never Let It Win

She was so young, so full of dreams,
When her world slowly began to unravel at the seams.
Depression turned her into a creature of the night,
Having gradually extinguished every bright light.
She turned to self-harm and self-isolation,
Dreading the hospitals and side-effects of medication.

She, twice, tried to leave, she had just turned eighteen,
For this world, in her eyes, was too painful, too mean.
But although she struggled, she fought her way back,
Only now, she went through life as an opheliac.
For a while, life was okay, until she heard it calling,
That dreaded darkness and she knew she was falling.

Agoraphobia with panic disorder, now too, she was told,
As, once again, the severe depression took hold.
Month after month of rarely going outside,
For fear the panic attacks and nausea wouldn’t subside.
But she decided to stay here, not to give in,
For she knew, in this war, you die or you win.

She got her life back thanks to an M.A.O.I.,
The good days more frequent, the years passed by,
Until good was too good, fast-forward too fast,
No sleep, no time, she crashed at last.
Bipolar 2, she slowly turned numb,
As her emotions were shut down with lithium.

She kept going, she had to, she gave herself no choice,
Two years, consistently ignoring that destructive little voice,
Until that car accident, there was no physical harm,
But it mentally triggered a dormant alarm.
She had been here before; she tried to force it back,
But no amount of therapy was knocking this demon off track.

Paranoia, conspiracy theories, severe sleep deprivation,
Psychosis made voices scream from every radio station.
Now there was madness on multiple levels –
Same bloody hell, new fuckin’ devils.
She was watched all the time in a world of her own,
Good or bad, every thought and feeling was known.

Hallucinations, delusions, euphoria and utter despair,
Weeks of pure terror, weeks without a care,
Almost two years passed, she was lost in the music,
The instruments, lyrics and melodies therapeutic.
She would’ve stayed there, on good days, for the ghost in a song,
And paranoid schizophrenia it had been all along.

Voices in the shadows, however, turned horribly obscene,
She couldn’t take it anymore and agreed to try clozapine.
Schizoaffective disorder was her latest diagnosis,
And the future looked brighter with favourable prognosis.
With the drugs, though, her Otherworld slowly faded away,
But she converses with music, still, to this day.

Despite it all, it’ll never take her,
Regardless of how many times it completely breaks her.
She’ll reassemble what’s left and rise from the ashes,
Tougher and stronger from all the mental crashes.
She knows how to survive now, she refuses to give in,
And when she has to go to war – she’ll never let it win.

ClaraClara is an animal lover, music addict, loves math, drinks too much coffee and believes in the power of positive thinking and the value of a sense of humour.

She is currently in her final year of a degree in Software Development and Computer Networking, having previously worked as a dog groomer. She lives in Ireland.

Clara can be found on Twitter

If you enjoyed this post, please take a few moments to leave a comment, or share with your friends using the share buttons below.

By | 2015-10-06T16:24:23+00:00 October 6th, 2015|Categories: Stigma Fighters|2 Comments


  1. JOHN T SHEA October 14, 2016 at 3:48 pm - Reply

    The most powerful poem I’ve read in a good while. ‘Opheliac’ is now my favourite neologism!

Leave A Comment