Did you ever sit at school, chin on hand and gaze out of the window, the teacher`s voice a mumbling blur in the background as you drifted off to somewhere else. The sound of chalk on boards and the squeak of classroom shoes merely the hypnogogic soundtrack to accompany the drifting inertia of your mind? Wishing you were somewhere else and even, possibly someone else? I know I certainly did! What if you sometimes felt that you didn´t really "fit in" with the crowd? The other boys, who talked of rugby heroes and racing drivers. That you preferred arts and drama to sports and rigid and rigorous maths exams? That is precisely what this boy did, like so many who came before and after him! Let's just say you were a dreamer. Living your life in the normal way, you ponder and muse on what might be...what you might one day become. You dream of growing out from your roots. Finding out what may be possible. You feel you may have a gift or a special talent, even if you don't quite know what that talent is and how it might one day reveal itself, both to you and the world around you. You look around and see how everyone around you lives and, although you know you are loved, a hankering for escape begins to seed itself within your soul. When you're young you think about being someone, doing something. But WHO will you be and WHAT will you do? You have home comforts and your basic needs are met, yet, somehow....all is not quite right. You wish to grow, explore, expand and discover yourself. You may have to, one day, leave it all behind. It´s all a part of the existential journey, from childhood through to adult, filled with pitfalls and possibilities. "And if your nearest " Big Town Attractions" look like this? Well, that may be another reason to think about moving on at some point...unless you wish for a career in the steel industry of course. Port Talbot was a hard working, hard drinking industrial settlement, blighted by air pollution and short on career prospects. Perhaps not the easiest place for a soulful, sensitive and creative young man to feel that he belonged and to somehow imagine a life lived through and fully realised. Tony loved drama, music and literature, got roles in school and other plays and realized that he wanted to act. He met an aspiring and confident Richard Burton, also with eyes on the glittering prize of fame and fortune, and who famously persuaded him to keep going, to study theatre formally. Before too long, young Tony was accepted at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art in London. ( R.A.D.A.) In 1957, aged 19, he packed his bags and, even filled with doubt and some trepidation, headed off to the big city lights, the citadel of dreams and hopes, possibilities. Would the boy from small town Wales be able to hold his own and get along with the elite of London's' thrusting acting community? The boys from the posh backgrounds and well spoken accents? The so called "Luvvies"? Mostly University educated and from well off families, a contrast indeed with Tony´s somewhat humbler social origins. It was here that social class distinctions became apparent, as Tony met the likes of John Gielgud and Laurence Olivier, already at the height of their majestic powers as leading lights in the London theatre scene. In fact, it was Olivier who was to support and encourage our young man, pushing him forward to accept bigger and more challenging roles. He performed in many plays, learning the ropes of performing Shakespearean classics and all the demands required in remembering and rehearsing many lines of dialogue. Practice which requires constant rehearsal and readings. Imagine all those voices echoing around in your head! Often it can be hard to sleep when your lines are perpetually revolving in your mind and drinking alcohol has long been a staple of the film and theatre set, not only linked with the constant socializing and parties but to sedate over active brains and help exhausted actors to get to sleep. One of the reasons so many entertainers used to go on to develop chronic drink related illnesses. Laurence Olivier saw the potential in our young hero. And it was during these times of challenge, excitement and diverse pressures that Tony recalls hearing a voice, a voice that mocked his efforts, self belief and endeavours. It used to say: "Come on, who are you kidding? YOU doing Shakespeare?" A voice of self doubt and mocking self incrimination and one that would appear at various times in his life and in different circumstances but one that he was determined to prove wrong again and again. Over many years, he went on to build a fabulous career including well known films and critically acclaimed stage plays, eventually receiving a CBE in 1987 and a knighthood in 1993, becoming Sir. Anthony Hopkins. Not bad for a boy from small town Wales! And the voice? On Christmas day, 1975 it spoke to him again. As he raised a glass to his lips it said: "Drink that and you will be dead." He had been been habitually and regularly drinking too heavily and he says he hasn´t touched alcohol since. He also claims he has never been fitter, healthier or happier. And on later occasions, when he´s interviewed on a TV chat show and is asked questions or to give an opinion on any kind of subject, his little critical voice speaks to him, saying, "What do you know about anything? You´re just a sodding actor!" Do these kind of voices emanate from deep and within the subconscious self? Do they speak to our condition of being and touch upon unresolved aspects of our personal development and growth? Can they guide us and spur us on as well as be critical and undermine our confidence? Do they respond to external influences and triggered by circumstances? Aren´t these experiences interesting to think about?
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CARL GUSTAV JUNGExplorer of the hidden realms of self. Freuds' apprentice and eventual rebel against what he saw in Sigmunds' work as limiting, restrictive and overly patriarchal. Jung wanted more. Immersing himself in mythology, mysticism and ancient systems of magic, he dreamed strange dreams from boyhood and beyond. A sensitive boy who thought much and spent lots of time alone, thinking, imagining. The man who gave us Anima and Animus, the collective unconscious, synchronicity and much more besides had to break free from the mental chains of Freuds' own authority, striding across the landscape of a newly mapped inner reality like a colossus and casting a massive shadow. On meeting, these two great men talked for thirteen hours and Freud knew he had found an apprentice worthy of the name. The development of psycho analysis and associated areas of research and writing were going through an exciting phase of early growth. International conferences and talks were well attended. Freud began to refer to Jung in letters as "my son." He assumed that, one day, Jung would inherit and take on Sigmunds' own body of ideas and work. As their relationship developed and tensions grew on a tour of the USA, simmering differences began to surface. Freud warned Jung of the risks of identifying too closely with his patients' subjective experiences. "The therapist who looks too closely into the subconscious of his client is in danger of revealing and exposing his own subconscious neurosis. Take care." Freud insisted on the importance for self protection of professional boundaries. Jung wanted to delve deeper, into consciousness and into the very deepest aspects of the self. Carl Jung had an extremely difficult time. His relationship with Freud was irreparably damaged and his mother had died. He entered an intense period of extreme self doubt and prolonged existential unease. He felt great despair. He had reached his own crossroads and was beginning the journey of slowly revealing himself to himself. In response he took himself to the family home and became physically unwell. Fevers, hallucinatory visual and auditory experiences. Strange recurring lucid dreams and replete with symbolic motifs and archaic themes. He built many stone mounds beside the lake close to his home and drew hundreds of beautiful mandalas. He immersed himself in philosophical and spiritual studies, Anthropology and Hermetic magic systems. He painted and wrote papers, kept journals. Jung knew that he was passing through an intense personal state of existential crisis and worried at times that he was becoming permanently psychotic. One evening he found a dead Kingfisher beside the lake close to home, a very unusual experience. Add to this a series of strange events in the Jung family household: doors opening and closing, bangs and loud noises, ghostly spectral presences. And this was when Philemon first appeared. Having read much and conversed with shamanic and other spiritual practitioners, the appearance of Philemon was to play a fundamental role in Jungs' inner intellectual and philosophical development. Philemon was seen by Carl as an old sage, wise in his ways and who wore beautiful Kingfisher wings. He became a muse and learned guide for Carl, who was often to be seen walking up and down the garden in animated discussions and debates with this "invisible" deity. So much so that many visitors became convinced that he was now exhibiting signs of madness and undergoing a complete nervous breakdown. Was he cracking up, isolated from the network of professionals that surrounded Freud and the burgeoning psychotherapy movement and uncertain as to his own future path? Did his circumstances contain within themselves all the necessary ingredients for a full midlife crisis? By delving deep within himself and writing and researching his lived experiences, Carl Gustav Jung explored the very systems of spiritual, metaphysical and alchemical philosophies that led to the famous "Red Book" and more besides. To him, Philemon was a sort of "Solomon", a sage, a scholar, a wise advisor! By breaking down and exploring his experiences he was able to perceive and understand that breakthroughs are sometimes possible for those of us seemingly in crisis. That it is often worth paying attention to the voices and visions that may visit with us at specific moments in our lives for they may contain much by way of symbolic and very real meaning for our personal growth! John was passing through a crisis of faith. His father had died after a prolonged illness and in much pain and this prompted John to agonise and wonder why any kind of God would allow such suffering to take place, He was angry about many things. Unresolved issues with his dad and inherited from childhood that he was never able to ask about, but one day planned to seek some clarity and closure. After the funeral, John began to drink heavily for the first time in many years. He threw away his Bible and his spiritual books and failed to show for work, losing his job after a month away. He didn't answer phone calls and ignored the doorbell when it rang. He stopped washing and cleaning his house, lost weight and became a hermit. He drew the curtains and settled into a self imposed exile, submerged in his own misery and lost in his own thoughts, thoughts that filled the silence of his exiled state of being. Like a lost sailor, cast alone on the ocean, he began to talk to himself. He answered his own questions as there was no one else around. He developed little tics of behaviour and character that were barely noticeable to begin with, but over time and without anyone present to point these out and help address, became more pronounced and fixed. He hated himself. He thought of ways of ending his life. He fell to his knees and cried. And that's when he first heard the voice. It was the voice of a young girl and it spoke to him like a ringing bell. It said " You're happier than you know. Stop crying. You're giving me a headache." I asked John whose voice this was, if he knew ? It was his younger sister who had passed aged six and in a car accident on a school trip to Wales in 1989 and when John was twelve. " I kind of knew I was going a bit mad already but...when I heard her voice I thought, well, that's it. I'm going bonkers for real now. I shouted at her to go away, piss off, then I laughed and then I cried. After an hour of silence and me sitting in the dark I decided to go light a candle. My mind was a maelstrom of anxiety and self pity but I was excited and scared too, so I sat, breathed and asked " Joanna, are you there?" And after a minute I heard her little laughter. Then she spoke and told me I was making her sad. That she wished me to be happy. That she was happy and that Dad was with her too but was unable to speak to me yet. She told me to stop drinking. That our Uncle and his father both died from drink related illnesses and I would follow. That she had met them after her own passing through and she wanted to warn me. This went on for some minutes. My brain was tingling and I heard the most beautiful music. A celestial choir of angelic voices seemed to be singing and it got louder and louder inside my head and in my inner ear. Quite beautiful if a little overwhelming. After a while this too ended and all was silent and I fell asleep on the floor. I slept for twelve hours. On waking, I heard the sound of my letterbox and shuffled to the front door to find a letter from my church. It was signed by many members and sent me good wishes, asked of my wellbeing and saying that I was missed. Also, the annual memorial service for my sister was to take place the very next Sunday and would I be attending" I could only laugh out loud but it inspired me to clean myself up, cut down my drinking and I decided to pray and meditate more instead. Little by little I regained better health. It took a while but I can honestly say that hearing her voice was actually the beginning of my recovery journey and not a sign of the end of things." For many people, hearing a voice or voices is often a one off experience, often linked to moments of life stress or pressures. It comes and goes, leaving nothing in its wake. It can be benign or helpful as attested to by many individuals I have spoken to. It can be triggered into being by events. You study Zen, Kabuki Theatre from the East and you read Kerouac and Ginsberg. You are a precociously talented musician, fragile and flawed with flashes of day glo brilliance. You're male but sometimes you like to wear dresses. You enjoy surprising and shocking people but, essentially, you're very shy and reserved. Very polite, mild mannered, very...... "English".
You make an album that thousands of teenagers feel speaks to them somehow of temporary moments, rare synapses of felt connection, the dark of the unknown future, waiting just around the corner. Dystopian elegance, wild optimism, naive hopefulness all combine with sheer hard creative effort. You sprinkle it with brilliant piano playing. Shards of guitar. You are afraid and also excited and it can be heard and felt in this amazing album. You experiment with drugs, sexual identity and style. You seek FAME. Despite the potential cost to your sanity. You move in arty circles and are seen by many as a spokesman for a generation. The media follow your every move and co create an aura of other worldliness. The MAN WHO FELL TO EARTH. THE ALIEN TRAPPED ON A MAD PLANET. Sometimes, you are unsure as to WHO you really are, who we ALL really are. Who we might be. You have an elder half brother who sometimes struggles with hearing terrible voices and it alarms you. You love him but you are attracted by his madness and repelled all at the same time. It conjures up possibilities but also makes you afraid that you may have inherited the same condition. You tightrope walk between mad and sane, mine the experience for creative potential, try to keep the worst of your anxieties at bay. One day he will kill himself on a train track when he runs away from a psychiatric unit. You can not attend his funeral .He is called TERRY JONES and you are DAVID BOWIE. Bowie wrote, years later of how he constantly altered his own persona and how he was often submerged beneath the identities of the stage names and alter egos he created. How, in rehearsal he became ZIGGY STARDUST and couldn't let go of or be let go BY his own creation. The blurring of identities. Sometimes a very risky process. Film actors and theatre performers know of these experiences when they inhabit the characters they are portraying. And just where did the songs come from? Were they always waiting out there somewhere, fully formed and awaiting invitation? The visit of the Muses? Where did David Bowie stop and David Jones begin? And who could explain Ziggy Stardust adequately? All of this and so much more. Cocaine and Heroin were often Bowies' bedfellows. Berlin and Lou Reed. Iggy Pop all waited for him. Rehab, remodel and consistent re invention. No wonder we teenagers lay around in our bedrooms in the 1970s, endlessly replaying Bowies' albums, trying to suck all the meaning out while mum and dad argued downstairs in the kitchen. We cut our hair into feather styles and both girls and boys wore eye make up and sequins and glitter. Bowie was unique and different and straddled the lines, blurring gender distinctions, challenging stereotypes and in doing so, he helped prepare the way for punk. It was literally the soundtrack to our own inner turbulence, our existential angst, our issues of self identity, our own form of Divine Madness, whether temporary or permanent. . and for that we say... Thank you David! Well, that's me. Sitting in the mountains and drinking green tea. In Iceland. Tea and great support throughout provided by Bergthor.Thank you my friend.
Mental Health Awareness week meant lots of hard work but was also a great success. I was honoured to lecture for 90 minutes to over 100 people on hearing voices at the oldest psychiatric insitute in Iceland and run a workshop for 20 people introducing them to some core coping skills and ideas for helping folk make sense of voice hearing experiences. I spoke of my early experiences, working with voicehearers in diverse settings and circumstances and starting up early support groups.The challenges and benefits, the journey. Why listening makes such a difference to healing and recovery. We discussed how we might improve poor recovery rates for schizophrenia by encouraging a positive engagement with people and their experiences . Giving access to ideas and tools that promote self autonomy. How I was inspired to meet with Ron Coleman, Paul Baker and others and how meeting these amazing folk led me to the work of the Hearing Voices Movement and Professor Marius Romme. It was filmed too so soon we shall have a copy of that. I also got toured around Icelandic mental health facilities and met folk using services and working in them. I was made so welcome on each visit. People do want to embrace models of thinking and recovery ideas that can make a difference. The alliance that worked to get me there also worked incredibly hard at putting on an amazing week of events, many of which I was lucky enough to attend. We marched through the streets of Rekyavik alongside a band and with banners representing many services, clubhouses, health professionals and many individuals who shared their life experiences so powerfully and openly. We were joined by the City Mayor and the Icelandic President...How cool is that? There were shows, movie screenings and award ceremonies. Some of us met to discuss planting seeds for a future hearing voices support group. I left books and dvds to assist with this. Maybe I will go return to help set this up too. I did a little media work and a 10 minute interview on the national news. For the first time I talked of my own brief mental health crisis as a young man and how my voices drove me to an act of self destruction. How I had no one to talk to. Why I am so glad I failed. Raising awareness about the commonality of voice hearing is something I really love to do. After the main lecture of the week, a doctor told me that he and his colleagues were all very grateful as my lectures and talks had removed much of the stigma and tension that seem to attend any discussion on the hearing of voices. Now he felt that they would respond to and interact with their clients and patients with a more creative and relaxed attitude. Now he was excited to do this. A very satisfying outcome indeed! Hearing voices is a much more common experience than we think. It is how we cope with these experiences that determines whether we become unwell or not. Voices can come and go or stay with us for longer periods. They can be one off experiences or appear and disappear in response to stressors in our lives. The 3 Ns. Voices can say nice, neutral and sometimes nasty things to us. Hearing voices might last for a while or just be a one time experience. There is useful information and links to helpful and enlightening websites in the guide below. This can be emailed out also: ivanjbarry@gmail.com Just ask.. we need to raise awareness and destigmatise concepts around voice hearing. Let's focus on healing and recovery instead of arguing and debating causes and theories. The more we can do for ourselves, the stronger we can become! Let the conversation start! The consequences of hearing voices differs for each individual person. Those who hear helpful or benevolent voices rarely seek or need help and support and are pretty much invisible to us. They are sprinkled among the general population as energy healers, spiritual practitioners, meditators, artists, writers etc. Or just hearing voices and living with them successfully, coping. Those who hear critical or challenging voices are more likely to be found in psychiatric settings or receiving medication and support. In hearing voices groups I helped facilitate, and 20 years of working in hospital settings and community support roles, I met many folk who, in one way or another, were experiencing voices. These folk all had various social and circumstantial differences in their lives. Often, the only thing they had in common was the diagnosis of Schizophrenia. The hearing of unwanted voices. An example of the effect of voice hearing can be seen in the life, music and love of classical composer Robert Schumann. A prolific genius, a determined and driven individual, a prodigy. Despite his fathers' attempts to drive him into the safe and predictable world of book keeping, Robert only wanted one thing: to be the worlds' greatest pianist. He practiced up to 15 hours daily, completely failed to study, fell into forbidden love with a young female piano prodigy, wrote secret letters to the girl who would become the great love of his life. His inspiration, companion, supporter and muse, Clara Weicke. Schumann was also troubled by a sensitive and "nervous" aspect of character. One that inspired him to create wonderful pieces of music but also laid him open to self criticism and feelings of hopelessness and exasperation. After damaging his hand by the use of a contraption made with wood and wire that he hoped would stretch his fingers and enable him to have a broader reach on the piano keys, he had to settle for writing music for others. His dream of world class playing in concerts was over. He waited several years to be able to marry Clara and inspired by immense happiness and a singing soul, he produced an amazing number of pieces, concertos and symphonies in a brilliant 12 month period. They sang and played together and entertained many of the leading lights of the day. Schumann was a celebrity, rewriting the rules on music composition and ushering in a new wave. Clara reported how he would often write complete pieces of music without pausing, these he was hearing in his head and rarely requiring further adjustments or editing. Minor moments of celestial perfection, watercolour impressions of great beauty. Often to be followed by exhaustion. The price we might pay for great acts of exertion both mental and physical. They toured Europe and and he took on posts and commissions but the demands of these exhausted and tired him also. He became more prone to melancholy and depression and on a visit to Holland, some of his quirks of character and sensitivities became more obvious and pronounced. He developed an odd series of phobias, felt afraid when standing near to staircases and concerned about touching door handles. He had rapid ups and downs in mood that might nowadays be classed as a form of Bipolar Disorder. What is less well known is that Robert was a voice hearer also. He had two voices, Florian and Eusebius. Florius appeared first. This was a voice that cajoled, consoled and inspired him to greater efforts and higher achievements when composing his music. A voice that drove him ever on and on. Sometimes staying awake for days, hearing the music in his head, scribing it onto paper. Eusebius was a different voice. He appeared at times of pressure and doubt in Schumanns' life. When Robert lacked for inspiration, when pieces were unsatisfactory in quality. When financial insecurities tugged at his mind. When he was worn out from his many duties. When he felt helpless and hopeless. Eventually, there came a point when he was so unhappy and driven to distraction by his negative voices, that after one day in a local asylum, he flung himself into the river close to his home and was rescued by a passing group of walkers. On being readmitted, he spent over two years as a patient. On being observed, it was obvious that Robert was constantly talking to and with his voices. He died aged 46, leaving behind his beautiful and graceful legacy, his inspiring and uplifting gift to us all. His music. After a month or two of feeling pretty low and having dark and fleeting suicidal thoughts, Mark went to see his Doctor. He left the surgery shortly after with a prescription for anti depressants, hopeful of relief and to get back on with his life. Mark was lonely, had lost his job, couldn't pay his bills and fell into debt, further depressing him. He saw his friends less and took to watching TV on his own. Chose to not answer his phone. He says he didn't know what to say to folk about his current condition. Slowly, folk stopped calling and the phone was quiet. Initially nothing happened but after a few weeks he felt his mood had lifted a little. There were a few side effects but he saw these as a trade off , at least there were benefits also. The medication effects played out in the normal ways: drowsiness and a slowing down of cognitive functions, thinking became foggy, speech a little slurred and he began to gain extra weight. His appetite was impacted too. Now too tired to bother making food, he took to microwave meals, simply tossing the used cups, plates and saucers into the sink and to be washed "tomorrow." He chose to leave the house less often and began to spend his days and nights watching free cable TV shows. At least it was cheap! And his body clock began to alter as he was now falling asleep during the day in his armchair and waking up with a start, head on chest and snoring loudly in the afternoons. This meant that, come evening, he wasn't tired at all and soon he was awake all night. But luckily for him, the free cable TV was 24 hours. You can imagine the rest. He recognises that his world view had begun to change also. A constant diet of negativity on the news, late night sadistic movies filled with slashers and killers, rapes and murders offered as "entertainment", inane celebrity shows and bombarded by adverts for products he didn't want or could never afford simply reinforced his sense of growing failure. So he ate when he felt like it. Slept when he wanted or needed to and slowly got disconnected from himself and the community he had once been so active in. He was isolated and his room filled up little by little with stuff. Ashtrays overflowed with cigarette ends. Sticky cups littered the tables and he stopped washing. After all, what was the point? He didn't go anywhere. Then the boiler broke down so no hot water. No one came and no one went. He had fallen into his own invisible circle. Some days he convinced himself he was doing ok just by keeping going. Most days he hated what was happening but felt powerless to change it. The medics increased the dosage. The drugs affected his ability to taste and smell so he didn't even notice his own body odours or that his rooms reeked of sweat and tobacco. His dog peed in the bathroom when he cried for the toilet but Mark was asleep in his chair and failed to hear.. Now the bathroom rugs were badly stained and smelt also. The few folk who visited stayed briefly, holding their breath until they could escape again to the fresh air outside. And then the weight piled on. Mark was a big chap already but suddenly, the combination of poor diet, no activity, Big Brother, smoking,..well, let's say he ballooned in size. Began to puff and pant. His knees began to ache and this meant he had to sit even more...The patterns had been established and after a while it was clear..MORE MEDS were necessary. He now had Diabetes. SECONDARY SYMPTOMS In my novice days in mental health roles I was told that tiredness, social withdrawal, lack of excitement about life and poor self care were SECONDARY SYMPTOMS of mental illnesses or disorders. This is what medics will tell you. It's what Community Psych nurses will tell you. And we buy into it too. But it is patently untrue. The sedating effects of Psych drugs don't impact quite so severely on everyone who takes them but when I learned more, researched more, read more I began to question this assumption. There are many consequences of taking sedating psych meds. Long term usage can be damaging in unexpected ways and I wish the professions were more honest with their clients about this. Of course, they are concerned that folk wouldn't take their medications if they felt there were too many risks of adverse impacts and slowly developing health problems so all this is left unsaid. The consequences are skilfully depicted as connected to a disorder the patient has and so the problems are located within him or her, NOT with the pharmaceutical treatments. If you HAVE to use medication, empower yourself to ask how long you might have to take it for, what side effects are known about and what to look out for. And how experienced is the physician in helping people get back OFF meds safely when the time is right? You might be surprised by their answers!
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July 2021
AuthorActivist/ Health worker/ 20 years. Specific interests : wellness/ voice hearing/ coping/ exploring/ sharing/ stigma reduction. |