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.

"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.

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.

A sick way of thinking

I have a sick way of thinking (that is how I see the mental illness I'm told I have) and so have to choose which thoughts I agree with and which ones I don't. 

There are enjoyable thoughts as well as distressing ones, but both types come from the same place so I have to separate them into one lump and label them all my 'voices'.

You'd think the fact that I have them going on in my head must mean I'm unwell. 

I hear that people diagnosed schizophrenic are less likely than the general population to be violent towards others (though sadly more likely when it comes to themselves). 

I have no desire to act on what the violent voices have to say, but I hate experiencing them (especially at times when I'm run down and unable to deal with them effectively). 

It's a strange because the voices aren't always easily distinguishable and fall somewhere in between enjoyable and distressing. I sometimes struggle to tell whether I should embrace a voice that speaks up, or try and resist it.

Why I can’t work

Imagine trying to deal with having images and voices forcing their way into your head urging you to hurt or sexually assaulting others. On a good day you have more energy so they’re easier to manage; but the days are unpredictable. Things like every day ambient stress can throw you completely and there’s often no way to predict when you’re going to crash.

When thoughts such as these intrude, it’s bound to be a stressful experience being around unfamiliar people in unfamiliar situations. It takes a lot of time and patience to get comfortable: for example it’s taken me over five years to feel comfortable going to a karate club and still now I can’t always go depending on how I’m doing that week.

Some days you are unable to cope with being conscious because of the constant barrage of disturbing voices and images invading your mind; and a part time job doesn’t exist where you are able to take a week or two off because you are in this kind of state when your shift comes round.

I used to experience terrible anxiety and panic attacks when I would try to work - and that was only voluntary work for a couple of hours a week. Now my body seems to have developed a self defence mechanism whereby my thinking shuts down before I’m even able to progress to the anxiety stage.

It’s not a conscious decision by any means; it’s as though my body knows that I am going to be faced with these intrusive thoughts and so literally stops me thinking in order to prevent me from doing something that will mean encountering them.

After all who likes to have thoughts of raping or hurting other people in their head?

What Came Over Me?

 Today I decided to go to my first Hearing Voices Network meeting, but surprise surprise it was by no means straight forward. I managed to go into the Salvation Army church (where it is held on alternate Tuesdays) after first taking some time to compose myself. I ordered a coffee and sat in the nearly empty café while I drank. I had the urge to write something down which led me to describe how I was feeling.

I didn’t feel myself and at first I grappled with trying to describe what had come over me. I felt like I was being held back as though chains were restricting my body. But then I realised that I wasn’t being confined by some external force at all; I had just shut down. Shutting down is a well-practiced technique that I learned a long time ago in order to block out the noise in my head.

I remember when I was younger I was able to discern the voices as they were fewer in number. But over time they amassed until no single words were perceivable above the overwhelming din. And so I quickly learnt to shut down - or perhaps I didn’t learn and it was purely instinctive. Unfortunately in order to target the voices specifically I had to shut down everything else as well.

It wasn’t too long ago that any meetings with councillors or social workers or psychologists consisted mostly of dead silence whilst I scraped together some semblance of a response to the questions they had posed. The weird thing was that I felt removed as though the lake had frozen over and I wasn’t able to break through the surface. I tried as much as I could but it was just too beyond my power.

Nowadays I find I have very little problem blabbing away to the professionals. Have I acclimatised to that particular kind of situation? Or is that a sign or how far along I am in my recovery? I do an awful lot of writing. I like to think that it is the only way I can process things - well, if not the only way it is definitely the most effective. But now I come to think of it, who says you should be able to process things naturally anyway?

I am rarely bothered by the noise these days; it only seems to be when I am tired that it manages to break through my barriers. On those occasions the noise is unbearable; like a thousand nails scraping down a thousand black boards. It is at these times that words and sentences force their way through; they usually try and convince me to kill myself so that I am no longer a burden on the lives of my loved ones.

At times like this I’ve found that all I can do is ride it out; maybe do some mindfulness meditation if it isn’t too bad that I can imagine my way to that option. I know that it is very difficult for the people I love to see me in such a state so I find it is best to prepare for it by telling them that although I may not seem it I am ok; I just need a big hug when the time comes.