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.

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.

State Benefit Stigma

Why am I so embarrassed for people to know that I am on benefits because of a mental health condition and why do I constantly feel like a cheat whenever I think about claiming?

I don’t work at the moment because I am physically unable to do so - I know, this sounds like a cop out even to me; as though I am just making excuses and I could actually work if I were to simply put in the effort.

But I shouldn’t feel that I am being stigmatised (even if it is all in my head).

Yet I still don’t want people to know that I claim benefits because somehow it feels like I’m doing nothing for something whereas they are working bloody hard for their paycheque.

I have a freedom pass (which lets me travel, as you guessed, for free) however the fact is that it isn’t really for free because I have to pay, not by money, but by the torment of not being able to earn my own way like other people and also by struggling in everyday life.

An interesting article:

http://www.wildmind.org/blogs/quote-of-the-month/krishnamurti-measure-of-health

Welfare

When I was first diagnosed with clinical psychosis my dad was keen to impress on me the importance of not giving in. He was concerned that the mental health professionals were going to wrap me up in cotton wool and be over cautious to the point that I was hardly moving forward at all. His advice remained with me in a way whilst I fought to get better - even if only in a subconscious form.

It’s strange being mentally ill because it’s very easy to forget that you are unwell. Or rather you don’t like to admit it to be true and so every time you have a panic attack or a dark day where the voices overwhelm you, you are quite taken aback. So, as you can imagine, when it comes to benefits it is very easy to feel like a thief or a cheat.

At times I believed I’d get better and be able to have a full time job with all the trimmings (I guess my dad’s words were still resounding in the back of my mind somewhere), but recently I stopped thinking about working. There are a lot of big changes happening in my life at the moment and the stress is proving to be very disrupting.

(I wouldn’t call it admitting defeat because it is definitely not that; I just had my sights set unrealistically high this time and actually it is an achievement to be able to come to terms with my own limits).

Now I rely on the welfare state because I am ill – or it could be that our world is ill, either way I am struggling to live day to day so something must be up! Everyday things seem to take more of a toll on me when compared with most of the other people in my life. I become worn out very quickly – although it’s rarely easy to pinpoint why this is.

Naturally I guess I’d have flown the nest by now; but unfortunately our world is far from natural. Maybe it is me who is ill; I may have a malformed brain – but what caused it to be so? It seems to me that the unnaturalness of our world may have had a part to play. If so then the natural process of child rearing simply goes out the window; which means that another system of support must take its place. Enter welfare.

But am I giving in too easily? I will keep on pushing of course but for the minute I must be sensible and embrace my limits and play the hand that I have been dealt. I guess that it’s disheartening but luckily I have the state to support me whilst I figure out a different route through this life.