Sadie

Mind HK Ambassador

Sadie’s poem

Mind HK Imagine Nation

It’s not always certain that I’m asleep or awake.

Sometimes, I can be both.

The worst dreams are the ones

where everything’s going brilliantly … and yet, 

there’s a tiny part of you that knows you’re dreaming. 

Watching you, judging you, pitying you.

That’s my dream.

 

Once again,

I find myself wearing shapeless clothes 

And staring out of broken windows

for long periods,

like a Victorian ghost.

I have no idea if this means I’m depressed, 

or just a Victorian ghost?

Perhaps I’m both?

I have heightened awareness … and yet, 

I am unfamiliar in my safe space. Temporarily dis-

connected

from the thin sliver of rationality 

that glues me together.

My mind is a locked vault.

And I have lost the key.

Time, my old adversary,

is exacting its revenge.

Recent events happened to somebody else 

long ago.

This morning I gave a silent scream

on discovering the label that had been 

scratching away at my back for weeks 

was actually a cornflake.

I am losing my grip on a suspended reality 

that already felt tenuous and shaky.

I am in a dream.

Everything else is hyperreal.

Colours too bright,

sounds too loud,

people too close.

Huge clown-like people with sad faces 

under their cartoon masks.

I make sound.

But it’s muffled.

I create pictures.

But I can’t see past the glare.

I doubt everything, including my own existence.

I am perennially preoccupied with fact-checking that I exist.

My psychiatrist also seems perennially preoccupied with fact-checking that I exist.

‘Do you know why you’re here?’

‘I came in for a mortgage and some baked beans.’

I float on a beam to the ceiling fan

and see myself gesticulating madly.

Like a sign language interpreter.

Only much more uncomfortable.

Like a sign language interpreter in a porn film.

I need to focus.

Dial down the potently persuasive prattle 

of my polluted, pestilent, permanently ‘on’ 

internal monologue.

But the racing thoughts

competing for my attention

just set up house and proliferate.

Using my mind as a factory, 

Establishing their abusive powerbase, 

Harnessing my memory’s supernatural resources.

Stamping out counterfeit copies, 

Choking out my darkest fears, 

Gasping my desires,

Twisting me into a science fiction.

My imagination is shrinking me,

making me subhuman.

I can’t breathe.

So, I slip on my mask and slip out for a run. 

The streets of Sai Ying Pun are eerily hushed. 

I start to feel a little self-conscious.

A scrum of black kites huddle in a banyan. 

They look to me like they’re planning a coup.

Hong Kong shimmers and spins, 

but its atoms do not hold together. 

They are too bright, immaterial, 

and shaking like flip-book cartoons. 

I don’t feel real either.

My skin looks garish.

And it panics me to feel the thought 

‘Move your hand’ echo cavernously 

and then see my hand move in 

slooooow-moooootion.

The whole process is supposed to be 

instant, automatic. Untraceable.

My imagination is my own worst enemy, 

conducting this orchestral madness.

I melt. I tingle. I go numb.

I lose feeling in my fingers

And in my tongue.

My mind is a conduit of chaos,

of broken logic and eerier realms. 

I am wrestling with illusion, 

fighting with ghosts,

being defeated by insane delusion.

My thoughts race, swerve 

and fracture into rivulets. 

Two opposing realities 

are happening at once. 

My head is a tornado. 

Blurred by emotion

that changes so

fast and furiously. Splitting me open,

like a juicy watermelon.

My skull feels too tight

and my hair hurts.

My hands are frozen into claws.

My memories lack vitality.

I’m not even convinced

they are my memories.

I feel a voyeur in my own life.

I see myself seeing out my own eyes. 

I hear myself talking to my own brain.

‘Do you know why you’re here?’

‘Do you?’

It occurs to me

the most unreliable witness in my own life

is me.

 

‘Imagine Nation’ emerged from one of many essays I wrote during group training to be a Mind HK ambassador. I have bipolar and there have been times when I hallucinated at the peak of a manic episode. That sounds scary to most people. They imagine me levitating in a darkened room talking to the Devil. (Sorry to disappoint!) They ask me if it feels the same as the time they experimented with LSD at university. (No idea, mate! As someone who hallucinates naturally, LSD is the last drug I’d take.) So, I was trying to explain to myself and others how a hallucination feels.

Most people view imagination wholly positively as the source of creativity. I love that side of my imagination, too. It’s how I make my living. But there have also been times when my imagination has felt like my enemy.

My hallucinations usually stem from anxiety and I hope anyone who’s experienced a panic attack will be able to relate to my poem on some level. It’s the flip side of my manic episodes, when I struggle to channel hypomanic energy productively. Zero Covid, the duration of it, the claustrophobia of it, and having all my outlets for coping with it closed off during Hong Kong’s 5th Wave, often trapped me in a tangle of self- paralysing racing thoughts that brought speed to my unravelling.

Not all of my hallucinations are scary. Some can be strangely comforting, such as going for a walk and enjoying a lengthy conversation, laughing and joking, with a dead friend. Sometimes, there’s a part of me that knows I’m hallucinating, just as sometimes there’s a part of me that knows I’m dreaming, even if I am powerless to change the channel, fast-forward to the end, or switch the dream off by waking myself up. 

Some of my hallucinations have been hilarious. They’ve inspired creativity and felt like a cosmic gift. I peppered my poem with touches of humour to reflect this. Always, they have a positive outcome, causing me to reflect on what might have triggered the hallucination. Sometimes, there’s a simple explanation that hits me almost immediately. Sometimes, it is less obvious and takes weeks or months to figure out. Sometimes, I will never know what triggered the hallucination, but I will almost certainly feel a release when it’s over. A sixth sense that something buried deep inside of me has been freed. Perhaps a childhood trauma that I’ve blocked out so successfully I don’t even recognize it as a memory. Perhaps a sign that I’ve been ignoring my gut about a relationship or situation that’s been troubling me.

 

Hallucinations bring about a gentle reckoning, and in my case, they don’t last long. They allow me to confront issues that have triggered an episode of mental illness in an abstract way that is a lot less painful than having to confront them in a clinical environment with a therapist. In this sense, I have learned to value my hallucinations and view them positively as a catalyst for renewal.

 

What is iACT Service?

Improving Access to Community Therapies (iACT®) is one of the services from Mind HK. Trained Wellbeing Practitioners will offer initial assessment and early intervention for people dealing with mild to moderate symptoms of depression, anxiety, or other emotional difficulties.

 

The service includes 6-8 sessions of low-intensity psychological support, the flexibility of the service allows individuals to receive free and timely support when needed.

If you’re aged between 18 – 65 and are facing some emotional challenges, we would like to invite you to take an online assessment for us to gain a better understanding of your current emotional struggle.

 

If you’re eligible, we’ll get you connected with a Wellbeing Practitioner within two weeks to sort out the next steps.

The service runs for about 3 months and includes 6-8 support sessions, tailored to your needs.

 

We encourage you to attend all sessions and actively practice the tips and exercises provided by your Wellbeing Practitioner.

We take your privacy seriously. Your chats with the Wellbeing Practitioner are confidential.

 

We won’t share any of your info unless you’ve provided consent or if there are risks detected.

This programme isn’t suitable for people facing emergencies, major setbacks, or those diagnosed with serious or complex mental health conditions.

 

If you’re having thoughts of suicide or self-harm, this programme might not meet your needs, so please seek help right away. You can check out Mind HK’s “Find Help Now” page for immediate information and services.

Most of our Wellbeing Practitioners have backgrounds in psychology or counselling and are passionate about mental health. They’ve gone through about 140 hours of intensive training and completed at least 120 hours of supervised clinical practice over 9 months to ensure the quality of service.

 

They’re trained by accredited local experts in the mental health field, including clinical psychologists, counselling psychologists, counsellors, and psychiatrists. Plus, we regularly check how effective our services are. All service outputs and performances are subject to consistent monitoring.

Who is suitable for participating in this programme?

This programme welcomes anyone between the ages of 18 and 65 who may be feeling lost or facing emotional difficulties. Please note that this programme is not suitable for individuals diagnosed with severe or complex mental health conditions.

This programme is not suitable for individuals diagnosed with severe or complex mental health conditions, but suitable for those who experience mild to severe moderate anxiety, mild to moderate depression, or other emotional challenges. If you are currently experiencing a major setback or even having thoughts of suicide or self-harm, please visit the “Find Help Now” page on our Mind HK’s website for immediate information and services.

After signing up, our Wellbeing Practitioner will contact you within two weeks to schedule a convenient time for a 45-minute conversation, either via video or phone call, according to your preference. During the conversation, the Wellbeing Practitioner will understand your current situation and help you gain a better understanding of your emotional state based on the questionnaire you filled out during application. Additionally, they will provide recommendations for appropriate community resources based on your needs, helping you take an important first step in taking care of your mental health.

Although the intervention procedure is mostly standardised, Wellbeing Practitioners will work flexibly with clients to address individual presenting problems and unique characteristics.

Our Wellbeing Practitioners are trained to support people who experience mild to moderate mental health difficulties primarily. This programme is not suitable for the situations mentioned above. If you are currently experiencing a major setback or even having thoughts of suicide or self-harm, please visit the “Find Help Now” page on our Mind HK’s website for immediate information and services.

Your conversations with the Wellbeing Practitioner are absolutely confidential. Any information about you will not be shared with anyone without your consent unless you or others are at immediate risk or the Wellbeing Practitioner has reason to believe that you may be in imminent danger.
Supervisors will monitor trainees’ development throughout the placement to ensure that they are meeting the required level of competency to pass the training course at the end of the placement.

Yes, it is necessary to book an appointment in advance by filling out the form. Additionally, you can select one of the five stores yourself. We will allocate clients to different Wellbeing Practitioners based on their chosen location.

Before having the conversation, we will ask you to fill out a basic questionnaire for preliminary screening assessment. This screening process aims to ensure that the training received by the Wellbeing Practitioners is sufficient to meet the needs of the individuals receiving the service. If it is determined after the screening assessment that the service is not suitable for you, Mind HK will provide alternative recommendations to ensure your safety and support.

For adults who are suitable for this service, all Wellbeing Practitioners have received training on how to identify and respond to safety and risk issues. If you have any concerns about the support process, the Wellbeing Practitioners have appropriate measures in place and will develop response plans based on the urgency of the situation. They can also access support from clinical practitioners from Mind HK or participating organisations.

What private training does Mind HK provide?

Mind HK provides 4 themes of mental health training, including: Supporting Self, Supporting Others, Family Wellbeing and DEI (Diversity, Equity and Inclusion).

 

Check out the brochure here for more information.

Mind HK provides a wide range of standardised mental health training, which can be tailored to different circumstances. Chat with our team to explore more

Our trainers come from a diverse, accredited pool of clinically experienced professionals. Check out our trainers’ biographies here.

Yes, the Mental Health First Aid class of Mind HK is internationally accredited by the MHFA International. The content and certification is delivered by trainers certified from the Mental Health Association of Hong Kong. You can find out our trainers accreditation here.

We are here to support your mental health education journey! Reach out to us and chat with our team.

Sadie’s poem

Mind HK Imagine Nation

It’s not always certain that I’m asleep or awake.

Sometimes, I can be both.

The worst dreams are the ones

where everything’s going brilliantly ... and yet, 

there’s a tiny part of you that knows you’re dreaming. 

Watching you, judging you, pitying you.

That’s my dream.

 

Once again,

I find myself wearing shapeless clothes 

And staring out of broken windows

for long periods,

like a Victorian ghost.

I have no idea if this means I’m depressed, 

or just a Victorian ghost?

Perhaps I’m both?

I have heightened awareness ... and yet, 

I am unfamiliar in my safe space. Temporarily dis-

connected

from the thin sliver of rationality 

that glues me together.

My mind is a locked vault.

And I have lost the key.

Time, my old adversary,

is exacting its revenge.

Recent events happened to somebody else 

long ago.

This morning I gave a silent scream

on discovering the label that had been 

scratching away at my back for weeks 

was actually a cornflake.

I am losing my grip on a suspended reality 

that already felt tenuous and shaky.

I am in a dream.

Everything else is hyperreal.

Colours too bright,

sounds too loud,

people too close.

Huge clown-like people with sad faces 

under their cartoon masks.

I make sound.

But it’s muffled.

I create pictures.

But I can’t see past the glare.

I doubt everything, including my own existence.

I am perennially preoccupied with fact-checking that I exist.

My psychiatrist also seems perennially preoccupied with fact-checking that I exist.

‘Do you know why you’re here?’

‘I came in for a mortgage and some baked beans.’

I float on a beam to the ceiling fan

and see myself gesticulating madly.

Like a sign language interpreter.

Only much more uncomfortable.

Like a sign language interpreter in a porn film.

I need to focus.

Dial down the potently persuasive prattle 

of my polluted, pestilent, permanently ‘on’ 

internal monologue.

But the racing thoughts

competing for my attention

just set up house and proliferate.

Using my mind as a factory, 

Establishing their abusive powerbase, 

Harnessing my memory’s supernatural resources.

Stamping out counterfeit copies, 

Choking out my darkest fears, 

Gasping my desires,

Twisting me into a science fiction.

My imagination is shrinking me,

making me subhuman.

I can’t breathe.

So, I slip on my mask and slip out for a run. 

The streets of Sai Ying Pun are eerily hushed. 

I start to feel a little self-conscious.

A scrum of black kites huddle in a banyan. 

They look to me like they’re planning a coup.

Hong Kong shimmers and spins, 

but its atoms do not hold together. 

They are too bright, immaterial, 

and shaking like flip-book cartoons. 

I don’t feel real either.

My skin looks garish.

And it panics me to feel the thought 

‘Move your hand’ echo cavernously 

and then see my hand move in 

slooooow-moooootion.

The whole process is supposed to be 

instant, automatic. Untraceable.

My imagination is my own worst enemy, 

conducting this orchestral madness.

I melt. I tingle. I go numb.

I lose feeling in my fingers

And in my tongue.

My mind is a conduit of chaos,

of broken logic and eerier realms. 

I am wrestling with illusion, 

fighting with ghosts,

being defeated by insane delusion.

My thoughts race, swerve 

and fracture into rivulets. 

Two opposing realities 

are happening at once. 

My head is a tornado. 

Blurred by emotion

that changes so

fast and furiously. Splitting me open,

like a juicy watermelon.

My skull feels too tight

and my hair hurts.

My hands are frozen into claws.

My memories lack vitality.

I’m not even convinced

they are my memories.

I feel a voyeur in my own life.

I see myself seeing out my own eyes. 

I hear myself talking to my own brain.

‘Do you know why you’re here?’

‘Do you?’

It occurs to me

the most unreliable witness in my own life

is me.

 

‘Imagine Nation’ emerged from one of many essays I wrote during group training to be a Mind HK ambassador. I have bipolar and there have been times when I hallucinated at the peak of a manic episode. That sounds scary to most people. They imagine me levitating in a darkened room talking to the Devil. (Sorry to disappoint!) They ask me if it feels the same as the time they experimented with LSD at university. (No idea, mate! As someone who hallucinates naturally, LSD is the last drug I’d take.) So, I was trying to explain to myself and others how a hallucination feels.

Most people view imagination wholly positively as the source of creativity. I love that side of my imagination, too. It’s how I make my living. But there have also been times when my imagination has felt like my enemy.

My hallucinations usually stem from anxiety and I hope anyone who’s experienced a panic attack will be able to relate to my poem on some level. It’s the flip side of my manic episodes, when I struggle to channel hypomanic energy productively. Zero Covid, the duration of it, the claustrophobia of it, and having all my outlets for coping with it closed off during Hong Kong’s 5th Wave, often trapped me in a tangle of self- paralysing racing thoughts that brought speed to my unravelling.

Not all of my hallucinations are scary. Some can be strangely comforting, such as going for a walk and enjoying a lengthy conversation, laughing and joking, with a dead friend. Sometimes, there’s a part of me that knows I’m hallucinating, just as sometimes there’s a part of me that knows I’m dreaming, even if I am powerless to change the channel, fast-forward to the end, or switch the dream off by waking myself up. 

Some of my hallucinations have been hilarious. They’ve inspired creativity and felt like a cosmic gift. I peppered my poem with touches of humour to reflect this. Always, they have a positive outcome, causing me to reflect on what might have triggered the hallucination. Sometimes, there’s a simple explanation that hits me almost immediately. Sometimes, it is less obvious and takes weeks or months to figure out. Sometimes, I will never know what triggered the hallucination, but I will almost certainly feel a release when it’s over. A sixth sense that something buried deep inside of me has been freed. Perhaps a childhood trauma that I’ve blocked out so successfully I don’t even recognize it as a memory. Perhaps a sign that I’ve been ignoring my gut about a relationship or situation that’s been troubling me.

 

Hallucinations bring about a gentle reckoning, and in my case, they don’t last long. They allow me to confront issues that have triggered an episode of mental illness in an abstract way that is a lot less painful than having to confront them in a clinical environment with a therapist. In this sense, I have learned to value my hallucinations and view them positively as a catalyst for renewal.