Sam's Journal

By Jeffrey Cheng

A beneficial book for mental health professionals, social workers, nurses, teachers or parents and caregivers who may be working with high risk youths with mental health disorders or substance abuse disorders. Sam's Journal gives a glimpse into the person behind the mental illness and can be used as a way to break the ice and initiate valuable discussion around mental health, substance abuse, and recovery topics with youth, students, and families.

As a vibrant young adult diagnosed with schizophrenia, Sam Ko laces his art journal with writing that is so real, you'll feel like you are seeing the world through his eyes.

Sam's Journal is a powerfully raw and brutally honest art journal book of a young adult’s struggle with chronic schizophrenia. On the outside, Sam Ko is like any other self-aware hipster who asserts his love for outsider art, black skinny jeans, and shoegaze. But in his head, Sam struggles daily with increasingly persistent and disruptive psychosis. Even with the support of his drug dealing brother, Rollie, and a nurturing single mom, Sam’s life descends into a downward spiral of events as he attempts to self medicate through an assortment of street drugs to cope with his unreality.

No other book has approached the subject matter of schizophrenia and drug abuse in a manner that Sam's Journal has done. It combines visually sumptuous illustrations with the intimate perspective of first person narrative via short stories, poems and free verse prose describing events, moods, and states of mind experienced by Sam as he progresses through mental health adversity and recovery.

Mental health affects us all. Just as our bodies become unwell, our minds can also encounter challenges that can interfere with our daily lives. However, mental health can be a subject that is surrounded by stigma, shame, and silence. Sam's Journal is a tool to help begin important conversations with those in our life who may really need our support.

**Reader Discretion: Mature themes related to language, drug use, and sexuality. **

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jeffrey Cheng
• Release date: Aug 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9780993828904

Jeffrey Cheng

Jeffrey Cheng was born in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada to Chinese immigrant parents, grew up between Hong Kong, China and Alberta. Working as a mental health nurse within general adult to adolescent forensics, Jeffrey has experienced both challenges and success in providing support to vulnerable people within his community.

Book preview

Sam’s Journal

by Jeffrey Cheng

www.samsjournal.co

Author’s Note

Sam’s Journal is best read at the smallest font setting on your device.

Ugly Faces

ripped through the blue sky. They chased me while I was on the bus. They came through the walls and threatened me with bad teeth and vacant stares.

We’re gonna rip your dick off!

You will be raped!

You are a bitch!

Passengers molested my brain with their eyes, probing every embarrassing thought and memory as if my mind were an open journal. Outside, I heard passing cars howling loudly, daring me to jump in front of them.

I couldn’t take it! I left the bus and ran into the public library for some peace and relaxation. In the music section, I found the Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ Fever to Tell. I listened to it and daydreamed happy thoughts to slay the ugly faces.

PS: Karen O is beautiful. YES!

Ugly Face Mogwai

Red is your colour.

It Was a Better Day

I went to the Italian Centre, had a dark roast coffee and wrote in my journal. I am reading A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess and enjoying every bit of it.

Maybe I can borrow the movie from the library and watch it at home tonight. That way I can compare which is better: the book or the movie?

But I already know. The movie, of course.

Dreamer

Mom Is

Energetic. Strong. Selfless.

Constantly nagging me to take my meds and eat more vegetables.

Buddhist. Nursing aide. Garden whisperer.

Olive-coloured dual zippered vinyl fanny pack. Birkenstocks. Northern Reflections.

Organic foods consumer. Vegan. Spiritual retreat junkie.

Sings old Paula Tsui songs in the shower.

The one person I listen to and do everything she tells me.

Heavy hearted. Weight on her shoulders. Missing my father.

Raising two dysfunctional sons on her own.

Widowed. Loving mother. Soul survivor.

Rollie Is

Street. Brave hearted. Respected.

Swagger of a hundred million.

Booty Burglar. Slutbag. Ho.

adidas kicks. True Religion jeans. Affliction tees.

Fighter. Heat bag. Guerrilla drug dealer.

Sitting in his QX56 on chrome 22s.

Juicy J. Too Short. Raekwon.

Crew deep and strapped up in the clubs.

Seven hundred and thirty days for possession, trafficking, and conspiracy.

Hard headed. Stubborn. Independent.

Hong Kong karaoke superstar.

Nurturing. Loyal. Supportive.

Twin brother. Family. Love.

I Am

Loner. Introvert. Frequent masturbator.

Earth to Sam. Lost in space. Day dreamer.

Writer. Artist. Painter.

Creatively expressing my vibe with ink, paint, and watercolours.

Rocking Joe Fresh black skinnies, music tees, and Chucks.

Blonde Redhead. Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Belle and Sebastian.

Bicycle. Skateboard. Public transit.

Living on AISH for rent, food, and cigarettes.

Piers Anthony. Neil Gaiman. Charles Bukowski.

Lonely. Mama’s Boy. Dependant.

Seeing ugly faces. Hearing voices. Chronic schizophrenic.

Dear Summer

bless us with your hot breath to entice all the beautiful honey dips to rock scandalous short shorts and barely-there bikini tops. Succulent skin of all types revealed, bare and tanning under the blazing sun. Naval gazing until my eyes bleed hot red.

Her Name Was Yuko

She was an international student from Japan. We met today at a Second Cup on Whyte Avenue and she schooled me on Japanese culture. We went to The Movie Studio and borrowed some sick ass Yakuza movie called Ichi the Killer by Takashi Miike.

She was so cool. Yuko rocked COSPLAY GOTH: an Asian Lolita dressed in ALL BLACK EVERYTHING. She had black lipstick, long black hair, a black knitted blouse, and a frilly short black skirt with hella sexy lacy black leggings.

I wanted to sex her so bad, but she kept sending me silent messages, telling me to save my virginity for that special someone.

I didn’t have the heart to tell her I’d lost it already when I was fifteen years old. So after she left I jerked off to Japanese porn and ate Ichiban noodles. Pork flavour, yo!

Konichiwa, bitches! Tokyo girls are so hot! I think I’m turning Japanese.

They Flew at My Head

and made me flinch. They bared their sharp teeth and I was afraid. The ugly faces told me to cut myself and I wanted to listen. I tried to ignore them, but it made work so hard, especially as dishes continued to pile up. And the faces were so aggressive. They invaded my space with their taunts, tongues, and eyes. I worried that other people might SEE and HEAR what I was experiencing.

Then SHE came along. Ebony girl—HOT, waiting tables in a plunging American Apparel V neck, grey tights, and TOMS flats. Ethiopian queen, charming all the customers with her brown, soft nappy