Schizophrenia, the Pink Elephant and Imagination

If someone says to you “don’t think about a pink elephant”, it’s naturally difficult not to have an image of one spring into your head (unless, of course, you've never seen an elephant).

The same idea applies certainly when it comes to my experience of what some may term 'hearing voices' and maybe to the experience of others too.

However, in place of someone telling me not to think of a pink elephant (in order to conjure up the image of one), you’ll find worry there.

The worry can be about many things, but they all gravitate about the same point, which is that I am really a bad person who wants to do horrible things.

Where it gets tricky is that this worry isn’t voiced internally – so, for example, I’m not consciously going around with the thought in my head: “I don’t want to hurt him (or her)!”

The unfortunate effect of this lack of internally voiced worry is that it is me who seems to be directly generating the 'voices'. 

It seems as though my mind jumps straight in with, for example, the thought of “punch him/her!” (or the equivalent visualisation of such) in response to a situation. It does this with no apparent stimulation other than what one would naturally assume (and I have done) must be the desire to punch random men and women.

When it came along, the idea of hearing voices really appealed to me simply because it instantly absolved me of all the guilt that I had charged myself with over the years. 

I welcomed it with open arms because the content of the 'voices' didn't sit at all well with my character. By defining them as voices meant that I could separate these bad, foreign feeling thoughts from my own good thoughts.

Interestingly, although for a long time I felt as though I had no imagination, now I see that my imagination was always there, I just didn’t recognise it as what it actually was, which, as it turns out is these voices in my head.

It’s only since happening upon the idea of the pink elephant, that I have been able to reach this conclusion. The pink elephant - or rather, the general worry - stimulates my imagination into thinking of horrible things; just like how it’s difficult to stop yourself thinking of a pink elephant when you are told not to think of one.

Unfortunately the horrible things are easily misconstrued as negative due to their content - whereas in reality this is not the case at all.

I now no longer berate myself for hearing these voices. Instead I give myself a big pat on the back when they spring into my mind because they show that I am a very caring person (after all the sole reason for their existence is my desire not to think them). 

I then give myself a second pat on the back in congratulations for having an imagination which can come up with such a creative - albeit terrible - idea; and also picture it so vividly that, at one point, it proved so paralysing to my existence.

I now no longer think of myself a ‘voice hearer’ but instead I think that perhaps the description: 'voice imaginer' is more apt.

Because I had suppressed it out of fear for so many years, I am still in the process of re-engaging with my imagination. I have found that mindfulness meditation has helped, and continue to help me enormously along this path (I often take time to sit back and mindfully listen to and watch my imagination).

Since seeing the voices this way I have noticed a huge difference. It's as though, now that I have owned them using the idea of the pink elephant, they have literally given up their bombardment of my mind.

All schizophrenics go to hell

For as long as I can remember I’ve always been very creative; but also sensitive to the world around me (as many others are I'd imagine). This was okay when I was young because I was a child then and it’s a fact that children are nuts.

However at some point I found the world around me was too much to cope with and as a result I imagined and created a reality for myself where I was in a kind of coma and the world and everybody in it was a figment of my imagination.

At the time this helped a lot, although I was only living a half-life I suppose.

This coping mechanism probably had something to do with my imaginative capabilities, but unfortunately I got so messed up in trying to marry up my nature with a world that is fundamentally unnatural, that in the end I literally shut down everything, leaving just a shell with nothing inside.

Eventually I was diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic.

Recently, though, I was introduced to the idea of auditory hallucinations, and because the things in my head do feel external to what I would consider ‘my’ thinking, it seemed to fit that this was what I was experiencing.

There was now a line between the true me and the evil 'voices'.

Of late, I’m starting to wonder if these voices are nothing more sinister than my own imagination. Have I been making a distinction with them simply because they can be pretty nasty and distressing and go against what I would consider to be my personal values?

I’ve also been noting with interest that, often, when I am thinking of something to write, I will just sit back and wait for a voice to pipe up with an idea - of course I don’t always jump on the first thing to be thrown up, since all manner of things appear before me.

The interesting thing is that these ideas feel as though they are coming from the same place as do the voices which plague me especially at darker times.

That’s why I’ve started to wonder if the so called hallucinations aren’t a symptom of a problem with me, but are in fact the imagination which I never learned to cope with and so shut away and abandoned along with everything else.

I suppose it now follows that my new challenge is to re-engage with my imagination.

I can see that the thoughts which - thanks to my religious upbringing (also known as child abuse) - I would have perceived as sins and so tried to suppress, are not evil and do not make me hell worthy.

I am now atheist, as it happens, and so free of the fear of this kind of thought transgression anyway. Unfortunately I am the person I am today because of my experiences, so it is going to be difficult to change – not impossible, but definitely difficult.

At least now I am not afraid to be around people whilst hearing voices and seeing images telling me that I want to rape/punch/kiss/kick/etc them. It is still difficult to be around people because I’m not always on the ball like I am now and tiredness (among other things) plays a major factor in hampering my ability to cope.

The content of the ideas may be troubling but I believe it stems from the fact that my brain is not only a primeval one and not suited to the modern world, but also an extra sensitive and creative one too.

Metamorphosis Felinus

...rain pounds the window pane. I don’t want to open my eyes. I’m so warm and fuzzy; I could remain like this for the rest of my life. The rumbling of my stomach is quick to subdue this whim: time for breakfast! I slowly peel back my eyelids, but the room doesn’t want to come into focus. From what I can see, grey light is filtering through the window; unusually drab light considering my bedroom is south facing – wait a second, this is not my room!

Gradually the room comes into focus - the utility room that is, where the cats sleep. Great, how on earth did I end up here? Sleep-walking maybe? Or perhaps thanks to a night of heavy drinking? Just to make doubly sure of where I am, I rub my eyes – but ouch! I really aught to cut my nails. Blinking the sudden rush of tears away, I gaze down at two tiny, black, furry paws.

I don’t believe my eyes (although I resist the urge to rub them again). The important thing is not to panic. Needless to say, this is exactly what I proceed to do…

…rain pounds against the window pane. This time I really don’t want to open my eyes. A longer deeper rumble issues from my stomach; I’m a growing kitten after all. How could this get any worse? But of course, now I need the toilet. I make my exit using the cat flap – straight into an horrendous downpour. Oh well, it’s too late to turn back now.

After completing my business without the slightest of ease, I return to the house. I am soaked to the bone. My little escapade has done nothing to silence my belly. At least I should have my breakfast before too long. No sooner have I thought this, than the utility door opens, I trill with delight. However, instead of going to the worktop, in order to prepare my breakfast, the figure enters and darts for the back door. ‘Click’ goes the lock of the cat flap.

I make a dash for the open utility door, but just as I make to move, another figure sidles into the room carrying something, and quickly closes the door to prevent my escape. I have been cornered, either way I turn the other person is behind me. Oh well, I decide to submit to their supremacy. Despite my best efforts to the contrary, I am bundled into the cat box.

The entire duration of the car journey I am thrown around inside the box. Then, at the vets, a large dog eyes me up hungrily, obviously somebody else who hasn’t had any breakfast. Finally, the moment I have dreaded arrives; my name is called.

I am carried through. My leg is shaved and I am stabbed with a needle, I hiss in disgust. However I soon feel the calming effect of the sleeping cocktail entering my veins. The final words I hear before I lose conciseness are: “He won’t be a Tom for much longer”…

Don't let them get away with it

Our landlord is evicting my wife and I in two months. This is not because we are noisy or messy or uncooperative tenants who don't pay the rent on time. We are simply too much of a bother because we haven't been so easy to hold under his thumb.

Our flat is part of a converted building, which itself is very old and so contains no damp proof course. This has lead to rising damp and problems with mould (not to mention many other problems besides).

We went to the landlord with these complaints but he was unresponsive. We also went to the council since, as we were housed through one of their schemes (due to me struggling with a mental health diagnosis), we thought that they might be able to help. 

That didn't seem so be going anywhere so we sought the help of the citizens advice bureau. In the end the CAB pressed and got things rolling.

Not long after we heard that the Environmental Health Team were to get involved we were served our notice by the landlord.

All we are guilty of is not allowing a person to get away with being a bad human being. I guess that is the way of the world though - you can either compromise, play by the rules and accept the way things are, or hold with your values and get struck down at every turn. 

"I want to rape women"

I was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia ten years ago and I have intrusive auditory hallucinations like the one in the title of this post.

It feels like these thoughts are put in my head because there is a disconnection in my mind; so I don't recognise the 'voices' as my own (even though they technically are).

The things the voices say are the result of my primeval brain attempting to grapple with the modern, let's say unnatural world we live in. 

I am fortunate in that I can separate these voices from 'me', so I can take a step back and watch them happen without feeling guilty about having things like them in my head.

This is important because ordinarially the thoughts would possibly get acted upon, whereas I am able to put them in a box for you to see.

I hope you will see them and realise that we are mostly (some people are just bad eggs genetically of course) not to blame for our actions as it is the world being unnatural and incompatible with our primeval brains that really fucks us up.

Are we on the same evolutionary wavelength?

I’ve been going along under the assumption that men and women’s natures have evolved to fit together – but what if this isn’t the case?

After all, evolution isn’t about evolving towards something; it’s about how suited you are to your current environment. We aren’t perfectly adapted to our environment; we’re just the fittest being that has evolved so far.

So what if, in the same vein, each sex isn’t perfectly adapted to the other?

Anxiety that you can't 'push through'

I used to experience a lot of anxiety and panic attacks not long ago. I believe they stemmed from the delusions that people could see inside my head– and the paranoia that accompanied this belief.

The delusions and paranoia developed because I experienced horrible auditory and visual hallucinations and was so fearful that people might be able to get inside my head and see them that I started to believe that they were able to doing so.

I was taught in therapy sessions that all I needed to do was push through the anxiety or panic and once I’d reached the other side I would see that there was nothing to fear to begin with.

The only problem with this reasoning was that the situation itself didn’t bother me – it was the belief that people could see my thoughts that was the problem; and that’s not something that you can disprove.

Sexual and violent thought infection

I hear violent and/or sexual voices about women. Sometimes it’s that woman's voice - saying inappropriate things that I don't want to hear. 

I brush them aside but they are persistent and they conjure up images in my mind like a virus causing you to get sick. Like if someone says "pink elephants" and you automatically picture a pink elephant.

I hear my voice too, but it doesn’t seem to be coming from me – as though it’s being injected by someone else.

Delusional

When I was younger I was delusional and believed that everything – the whole world and everyone in it – was just a creation of my mind. Hence I felt unable to trust people; including my friends and family.

I believed myself to be in some kind of coma and making up this world as one would a dream. I knew that there were scientists watching me, and they were doing so via a TV that was hooked up to my brain, providing them with a live feed of the world I was creating inside my head.

The thing was, although they could see my world, they were not privy to what I was thinking to myself. I therefore spent every hour of every day trying to act in such a way that they wouldn’t be able to tell that I knew what they were up to.

I never knew why such a need for secrecy though..

Psychic Ability

I met a medium the other day who was convinced that she had the ability to communicate with the dead. She said that she would sense a person when talking to someone – not see them but feel their shape.

It struck me that maybe what she’s sensing is unconscious and non-verbal signals from the person whom she’s with, and interpreting them as a supernatural ability.

Do we give off signals unconsciously - perhaps through our facial expressions or pheromone emissions - that can be picked up on by a naturally astute observer? 

Exposure therapy (my way)

They told me that all I needed to do was get there. Once I'd done that I would see that it wasn't so bad and I'd be ok; the anxiety and panic attacks would go.

But what if the thing causing me to react as such couldn't be beaten this way? 

What if being around other people is such a struggle because of the extreme paranoia that they are against you; a paranoia that, if denied by anyone, would only worsen the suspicion you feel?

That's the problem with learnt behaviour. For so long that was my whole world. I'd live every moment with that in my mind. Sometimes it's be at the front and sometimes more towards the back.

It's taken years of care but I've now learnt different behaviour and the paranoia has dwindled significantly. For me it wasn't about a big exposure but lots of little ones instead; building confidence day by day.

I still get uncomfortable but then I'm still learning. 

Who will survive?

The worlds population is growing out of control and consuming more and more energy which is destroying the planet. Unless much more is done we will eventually reach a point where nature will take its course and only the fittest (if any) will survive - who will they be? 

A physical example: People have been able to survive illnesses like thyroid problems because of medication. If societies collapse then no more medication will be made leaving the 'weak' to die slow painful deaths or avoid that fate by taking their own lives.

Cosmetic youth - Why we hate ageing

The following takes place subconsciously..

Men have the resources to sire hundreds of offspring but women invest so much in each of the few they can gestate and raise. They are therefore evolved to choose mates who can be faithful and support their young.

Men are attracted to youth because it's a good sign that their children will be healthier so is it any surprise that women somehow know this and so value looking young despite growing old?

From cosmetic surgery to anti ageing lotion and dying away those telltale grey hairs, could women be afraid of growing old simply because it potentially means losing the security of a father for their children (or potential children)? 

Furthermore could a man's interest in a younger model during the (in)famous midlife crisis be a perfectly natural evolutionary mechanism at work? 

Ignorance or irresponsibility

How dare our landlord allow us to live in a building with no damp proof course and then blame it on us when the walls grow mould due to rising damp?

Is he ignorant of how buildings work or does he understand them and yet chooses to carry on regardless?

It's hard to tell because he seems convinced that all we need to do is keep the windows open and get the air circulating.

One, it's now winter and two, we wouldn't need to do anything of the sort if he'd taken the responsibility to sort the building out in the first place!

I have a mental disability so my wife is trying to support me as well as deal with the building issues. It's now got to a point where neither the landlord nor the council seem to care and we're out of energy. 

A wheelchair ramp for the mind

Today I was walking past a bank and saw an employee trying to set up a ramp so that a lady in a wheelchair could enter the building. 

It struck me how she wasn't embarrassed and in fact was directing the uninformed man as to how he should set it up.

Then I reflected on how uncomfortable I become when dealing with anything to do with - what you could term my wheelchair ramp to life - benefits.

I'm told by my care team that I am fully entitled to all I receive and yet I always feel like I am doing something wrong.

When I was first ill I didn't even recognise that there was something wrong in the way that someone who's legs had stopped working would have done. 

I ended up affecting all kinds of illnesses that I thought my parents would believe, because how could I say "I can't go to school but I don't know why", and expect them to believe me?

Surely it shouldn't be this way - and yet if even I as a sufferer am feeling guilty, then I can only imagine how a person with no experience of my invisible illness would view me and my difficulties!

Ignorance and discrimination

A few weeks ago my freedom pass stopped working so I ordered a replacement. The bus drivers were all kind and allowed me to travel despite it not scanning (the pass has a picture of me and the date of expiry on it).

Unfortunately when I ordered the replacement the payment was taken but - unknown to me - the order not put through. I waited the ten working days that it could take but it never arrived.

My wife had a hospital appointment so we hopped on the bus to get there and I asked the driver if I could get on though my pass had stopped working.

It turned out I the same driver had allowed me onboard with my broken pass two weeks ago.

I have a freedom pass because I suffer with mental illness so need the support where I am unable to afford things like travel due to not being fit for work. 

You'd have thought a bus driver would understand the vulnerability of someone needing a freedom pass but this one obviously didn't.

He accused me of not ordering a new pass and then told me to surrender the faulty one so that I'd have the motivation to order a replacement.

He then went on to tell me I'd be breaking the law if I refused to hand the faulty pass over.

I became very distressed at this point and didn't know what to do. I ended up getting off the bus but was in such a state that the voices in my head were yelling at me to hurt myself.

I didn't do so but ended up breaking down in the high street in an effort to try and contain myself.

Of course the driver wasn't aware of the administrative error that delayed my new pass getting to me; but to treat someone who is clearly vulnerable (a young person with a freedom pass is bound to be) like that  is plain ignorant in my book. 

Vulnerable members of society & housing

The council found us a place to live due to my vulnerability as a sufferer of mental illness when we were facing homelessness nearly a year ago. The flat looked good when we first moved in but it’s now clear that all the problems were literally painted over.

It wasn’t long before mould started re-growing so we alerted the landlord and he told us to open the windows in order to get air circulating. This was fair enough in the spring and summer but now that we’re in autumn it isn’t so simple.

As it turns out our building has no damp course and instead of putting one in the landlord has opted to attach six inch fake walls to the existing mouldy walls in what seems like a quick fix.

Unfortunately there is now mould in every room so the house reeks of it; plus to compound the issue both my wife and I have asthma which is especially affected by mould.

The bit that gets me though is that we have informed the council of the mould situation and yet they still want to house people here when we move out, which I think that is deplorable.

It's a struggle for a young, vulnerable couple to deal with a landlord who behaves like this. It causes a lot of stress, which has gone on to exacerbate my condition and prevent me from proceeding any further with my recovery. 

There is no first strike in karate & justice

“No first strike” doesn’t mean waiting to be attacked and then retaliating. It goes further than that and can mean avoiding a situation that is dangerous or harmful in the aid of self-preservation.

But what if seeing the state of the world and what people are doing to each other and to themselves is causing you mental distress? Should you then take steps to stop the crap that goes on?

Then there’s the indirect effect something like people over-eating has on you; in the future more money will have to go towards treating the illnesses they will develop as a result of their obesity and this will have a knock on effect on taxes.

And what about global warming? Can you help but be pissed off with the oil companies for engineering politics to their own gains whilst destroying the planet and damaging our health and well being at the same time?

So what's the answer? In a way you're already under attack so you need to take the initiative in the name of self preservation.

The problem is there seems to be a lot of ignorance around; and people who are too caught up with the trivialities of their daily lives to stop and think for themselves.

Others are told they are mentally ill for thinking and put in a medical straight jacket to prevent them from telling the truth.

What do you do? - Schizophrenia - Claiming benefits

I am in still recovery after being diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia nearly a decade ago. As of yet I have been unable to hold down a job – though not through lack of trying. I hate having to rely on benefits but I have no choice except to do so at the moment.

I don’t deal very well with stress because, as a mechanism for coping, I have shut myself out of my head so that I can only process things by talking to others or sitting down and writing them out. Couple this with the emotional and thought numbing effect of the anti-psychotic medication and you can see my problem.

At the moment stress comes in many forms but the funny thing is that it affects me without it consciously playing on my mind. By this I mean I find myself getting so worn out that it feels as though I’ve crashed into a brick wall but I have no idea why.

When I get into this state I have no energy left to deal with the barrage of intrusive images and thoughts that accost me, telling me (amongst other things) to harm or even kill myself.

Having to be extra cautious not to get into such a state means I am severely limiting what I do day to day. I want to be capable of doing a job now but the reality is my recovery is what’s most important at the moment. 

Sell sell sell your art

Obviously making money is important (how else can you buy food/clothes/shelter/etc?) but when it comes to art the money comes second.

I do not sit down with my pen and paper and think "hmm, I wonder what'd look good on a persons wall" (you can probably tell this from the unpalatable nature of much my work of course). 

It's all about rattling cages for me - jerking people from the stupor of the lives that they've come to accept as normality. 

I realise that this desire stems from my wanting to appear altruistic for selfish gains. But somewhere in there as an annoyance at corruption and inequality.

The funny thing is that people are being corrupt for the same reason that I am being altruistic at the end of the day.