The Senses of My Mentality. 

The thought pattern of the brain ehrn confusion begins.


To see that angry person with those crazy-looking eyes staring at me in the mirror.

But I appreciate that God has given me sight and allowed me to be me.

Closing my eyes to the insanity around me keeps me safe for another day.


Fear, the smell of smoke after a serious fire, brings back memories of a tragedy involving children in the seventies.

The smell of the electrical sparks of the passing train is the nightmare that I have held on to for years.

My hope is like the scent of clean-cut grass when I walk out in nature, knowing I have that moment of peace.

My scentless world would save me from the allergy of the putrid stenches. However, I am grateful for the freshness of laundered clothes and the smell of freshly baked bread. 


Depression is like the coldness of winter that seeps through your bones, the impossibility of keeping yourself warm.

Anxiety causes my stomach to turn as I dread what I have convinced myself will happen next.

Mania is the rush of adrenaline that makes me tingle inside and find myself over-elated and unable to complete any of the tasks.

A moment of calm and happiness is like the sun’s kiss on my skin.


Voices, non-stop talking, screaming, screeching…. thoughts of making that noise permanently stop…. Rage

Hell, hath no Fury…. Soul destroying 

The sound of whispers in my ears is the voice of paranoia.

The clicking of the clock counting down the time till I can get out of yesterday.

The sweet sound of birds singing on a summer morning brings me comfort and hope to survive another hour.


The instant prick of a nurse’s needle makes me, for but a moment, forget my inner turmoil and pain.

The touch of the gentle breeze on a humid day makes me feel that I may hang in there for today.

The hot water washing away all the day’s filth refreshes my body and soul.

The gentle touch of the heat caresses the skin on my face; perhaps I won’t give up on life after all.

What will be the balance of your senses?


The sound from my mouth is garbled as if I cannot control the pronunciation of each word, almost like I am having a stroke.

I choke on a string of spaghetti, which I forever pull out of my mouth.

Finally, I can stand up in front of a crowd and tell them my view of the world without fear of recrimination.

I have a voice, and people are listening to me.

In everything, there must be a balance.

Natalie Bleau

The Scripture of Balance.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.