Edge of Madness
66 pages
English

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66 pages
English

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Description

The poignant Australian tale of one woman’s coming-of-age journey and beyond as her mental health deteriorates and she struggles to know why.
It is July 2045 when Mary-Jane Anderson (Marj) is born at her family's farm in Kellaberrin in Western Australia. A war with China and climate change has transformed not just the world, but also life on the farm. Still, Marj knows she is loved. But everything is about to change for her when she is orphaned at age eight and sent to live with her great aunt.
While living with her aunt for several years, Marj sadly never feels at home. When she becomes pregnant and must live with the baby’s father, her existence increasingly becomes unhappy. Lacking maternal feelings for her baby, Kylie, Marj considers her daughter as the cause of her problems. While feeling restricted by the norms of the time and the invasion of Social Services, Marj does her best to carry on despite the fact that it seems her life is always one step away from chaos as she travels across Australia. It is not until her path leads her into a mental health clinic in Dubbo that Marj learns a name for her condition and how to avoid the triggers that set it off.
Edge of Madness is the poignant Australian tale of one woman’s coming-of-age journey and beyond as her mental health deteriorates and she struggles to know why.

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Publié par
Date de parution 28 octobre 2021
Nombre de lectures 0
EAN13 9781982292218
Langue English
Poids de l'ouvrage 1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0200€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

EDGE OF MADNESS
 
An Australian Story
 
 
 
 
M. KELLY
 
 
 

 
Copyright © 2021 M. Kelly.
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
 
Balboa Press
A Division of Hay House
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.balboapress.com.au
AU TFN: 1 800 844 925 (Toll Free inside Australia)
AU Local: (02) 8310 7086 (+61 2 8310 7086 from outside Australia)
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
 
The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well- being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
 
ISBN: 978-1-9822-9222-5 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-9822-9221-8 (e)
 
Balboa Press rev. date:  08/12/2022
 
My name is Mary-Jane Anderson (I am called Marj for short). I was born in July 2045. I am twenty-six years old. I have long brown hair, coloured with purple streaks. My skin is pale with blue eyes. I am a bit skinny now. I hope to put some weight on while I am here. I am in a mental health clinic at Dubbo, New South Wales. The place where I am staying is a bit old, but it is clean, and we are well-fed, which for me is a plus. I have a room that I can go to whenever I need to chill out, except when I have group sessions or appointments with the doctors.
The chief psychiatrist, Mr Whan, told me I had borderline personality disorder (BPD). He explained it is a mental disorder characterised by depression and extreme emotional oversensitivity. People with BPD tend to experience intense emotional stress for lengthy periods.
The symptoms impact significant functioning areas, including emotional, behavioural, interpersonal, and cognitive; they also affect one’s sense of self and direction. For example, a sudden, impulsive change in plans can bring about isolation, loss of structure and routine, separation, chronic emptiness, mood instability (from intense anger to idealisation to anxiety, all within a few hours), and suicidal notions. Other symptoms include stress-induced disruption, paranoid thoughts, and hallucinations. People with BPD may find themselves having extreme reactions to absolute or imagined neglect or rejection. The loss of an external system can lead to profound self-image changes that affect cognition and behaviour. They can become overly sensitive to environmental circumstances and often have nightmares about people rejecting them. People can have difficulty doing day-to-day tasks when they focus on their emotional turmoil. Changes in routine are a primary trigger for BPD; people have difficulty adapting and regulating their emotions, and transitions may lead to feelings of abandonment.
I understand what he is saying. Since these intense emotions are part of my regular life, I sometimes appear unusually calm, only to crash later. The stress and fear of the unknown are always with me. With the desperation and loss of hope for the future, the tension accumulated, and I broke down. That is why I am here.
Mr Whan said it was crucial to find an activity, such as writing, word games, reading, exercising, or going outside, to help occupy my mind. He also prescribed antidepressants.
Dr Morrison, my psychologist, suggested that as a part of my treatment, I write my story (with as much detail as I can remember) to understand better what has happened to me. He told me it does not have to be perfect, but it must be honest.
So here goes.
CONTENTS
Chapter 1     My Early Years
Chapter 2     The Big Move
Chapter 3     My First Love
Chapter 4     Bringing Baby Home
Chapter 5     Mac
Chapter 6     Susan
Chapter 7     Ken
Chapter 8     The Truck Driver
Chapter 9     Home Again
Chapter 10   Kalgoorlie
Chapter 11   Blue
Chapter 12   Adelaide
Chapter 13   Seth
Chapter 14   Edge of Madness
Chapter 15   The Lonely Road
Chapter 16   Confinement
Chapter 17   Decisions
Chapter 18   Nine Months Later

CHAPTER 1 My Early Years
Most of what I know from when I was a baby was told to me by my auntie Di. She is my father’s sister.
Our family home is in Kellberrin, Western Australia. The name Kellberrin comes from an Aboriginal word meaning “nearby hill.” It is 205 kilometres east of the capital city, Perth, and considered the central wheat belt and the state’s breadbasket. It was first called Killaburing Hill by explorer Charles Hunt in 1861. The land was sold cheap in twenty-acre lots to those who would clear it and start farming. Our great-grandparents bought the property when the original occupants could not do the work and thus lost its right. They built the original house, made primarily of corrugated iron, and passed it on to their eldest son.
The house my grandparents built was substantial and is still standing. They had four children: Mark, William, David (my father), and Dianne (Aunt Di).
As the children grew, they added small cottages to give them privacy while working on the farm.
Before I was born, the land produced enough products to keep the family comfortable. There was money to send the children away to school. The introduction of sheep added to the practicality of crop rotation. The family was received well in the town as astute farmers, but then came the drought. The first couple of years, the family thought they could ride it out, and it would rain the following year. Then, however, the rainfall became less and less.
Furthermore, the searing hot winds from the east across the desert took most of the topsoil. The once-fertile fields became a dust bowl. Most of the sheep were sold, and the ones left were kept near the house.
I heard from Di that everyone knew about global warming and its effect on the land, but nobody noticed it. They could not conceive how it would affect them. It did not happen all at once. People thought it had little to do with them because the rains were sure to come. However, once the drought-hit, it could not be stopped. Thus, when things developed to the boiling point, people started to ask what to do. Many had to abandon their properties to find work. Water became a precious commodity. Most of the town’s supply came from a dam in Perth via the Golden Pipeline. However, the cost was prohibitive after the government became aware that the source, Mundaring Weir, had dropped to a dangerous level. You could only have two showers a week, as the water tanks from the houses were drying up. It was too late to help those on the land in the southern part of Western Australia. The low rain in the southwest was contrasted by the torrential rain and persistent cyclones that carved a path of destruction through the northern part of the state each year. The government could not agree on how to bring water from the north to the parched south.
Mark ran the farm, while William and David had to find jobs elsewhere. William was lucky to find work in town as a mechanic. He married and had two small children. Meanwhile, David, my father, joined the army and went to the city to acquire new skills as a soldier. He met Rose and fell in love. He married her before bringing her back home. According to Di, the family was shocked, as my mother was a delicate, beautiful flower and unsuitable for harsh country life.
My early memories were of my father’s laughter and twinkling blue eyes. He would do anything to make Mother happy. But he also had to spend time away from home, and she was left alone. I was born one stormy night with only Di for help. It was a difficult birth, but I came out strong, screaming my lungs out in protest of the cold and noise from the storm. Unfortunately, my mother did not fare so well. The birth left her weak and in bed for many weeks. She also had trouble nursing me, so Di put me on a bottle as soon as possible. From then on, she became my surrogate mother.
I loved my own mother, and when she was well, she would sit next to me, read me stories, and tell me about her life of luxury and travel before marrying my father. They said I looked like my father, but I wish I would look like my mother, as she was so pretty, with beautiful blonde hair that curled at the ends. Her skin was pure white and accented by a blush on her cheeks and natural pink lips.
I was too young to understand the war our country was having with China. However, a considerable proportion of the population is either first- or second-generation Chinese, and many became Australian citizens.
As far back as 2020, a retired chief of the Australian Security Intelligence Organisation had accused the Chinese government of using insidious foreign interference operations to take over Australia’s pol

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