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.

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.

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..

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. 

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!

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.

Panic attacked

Most situations we find ourselves in are generally predictable: chatting with the check out lady at Sainsbury's for example; or being on the receiving end of some banter when it comes to light that you're a Chelsea fan.

But what about when faced with mental health stigma? 

In the past I've experienced anxiety and panic attacks because I simply didn't know how to be in certain situations. I didn't understand myself personally so how could I go about explaining what was going on inside me to another person so that they could understand? 

I found myself again and again in such situations, paralysed and in a state. Gradually though I have grown to understand more about myself, and even found a comfort and confidence along the way. 

I haven't experienced anxiety or panic attacks in a long time, which I put down to this development of character. 

I still don't know how each person will react when I tell them that I have been diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia of course, but I don't care so much now because I understand it a lot more myself.

I am confident being open about my diagnosis and about the difficulties I may have in a situation. This may be detrimental to whether people feel comfortable with me but if I were to hide that part of me, I would have no safety net to fall back on were things to take a turn for the worse.

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?

Irony

Being unable to work I have a lot of free time. However I’m not the kind of person who will sit down playing Xbox all day - although when it comes to a tossup between reading a book and going for a run I choose the book every time!

It feels like a waste of time if I am not putting my mind to something useful in the effort to recover from my mental troubles. But the ironic thing is that getting regular exercise can actually aid this process.

So in order to improve your mind you need to focus on your body, which is something I initially thought of as being quite narcissistic, and still do when people seem only to care about their physical appearance; but what if it is in our nature to do so? 

I found mine!

There can be times where you have so many things going on that you are unable to hold onto them all at once. It’s at times like these that I wish I could just ‘switch off’.

The funny thing is it is surprisingly easy to do so.

I’ve been practicing Mindfulness meditation for two years now and use when the above kind of scenario arises.

I sit in a chair and take time to just stand back, allowing myself to become transparent and to observe all of these thoughts, stresses and worries as they flow through me.

Why are you kind to strangers?

Throughout most of our history as humans on this planet we have lived in small groups. There was no knowledge of the wider world, yet alone the vastness of the Universe.

If our brains have evolved to deal with such a small world then is it any surprise that this sudden (in evolutionary terms) expansion of our awareness of things has left us feeling a little shell-shocked?

What if our brains just can’t cope with the world on that scale?

Could mental illness be a consequence of that inability to cope?

Are things getting out of control?

Intrusive thoughts explained

Hot coffee over a baby's head

It happens in a sudden flash so real that I react bodily. It feels as though I'm actually experiencing the normally violent or sexual intrusive thought in that split second. It is horrible and I still find it very distressing even though it has been going on for a long time.

Then there's the voices. Sometimes they speak in my head as though it is me thinking, although I know that it isn't me who is articulating them. They don't tell me to do things, but because they pretend to be me and go on and on for months and years they almost become second nature.

It may sound odd but because they are so frequent and ongoing I get used to them and although I can usually fight them off, when I am tired or not feeling myself, I struggle to counter them and they end up overpowering me.

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.

Avoidance

It’s frustrating being smacked in the face by your own limits. Each time they catch you off guard; is it a denial that there isn’t anything wrong? Or is it because they come out of nowhere and are unpredictable? The situation you may have been in a thousand times before can randomly trigger a negative reaction and it is subjectively unpredictable!

Take tonight. There’s a Zumba class that I would like to go to with my fiancée but guess who reared their ugly head? That’s right, my limits. I was fine all day – it wasn’t a particularly busy day either – but right at the last minute I felt that regrettably familiar sensation of panic in my chest and then my mind began to shut down.

So what to do?

The staff at my CMHT would tell me that I need to push through; anxiety has never killed anybody and it can’t stay at that high level they’d say. Also once I get to the other side I’ll see that it wasn’t as bad as I feared.

I’ve had many panic attacks over the years and I really don’t want to experience one around people I am unfamiliar with. But maybe that is what must be done? Or should I take smaller steps?

Should I take care of myself and recognise my limits?

It’s hard to accept the fact that you’re mentally unwell (I still don’t believe it sometimes) and that you’re limits are far narrower than those possessed by a lot of others. I see the things my fiancée can do and it amazes me.

When she tried to persuade me to go tonight I got annoyed that she didn’t seem to understand me. I really wanted to go but there was something stopping me that I had no control over and wasn’t even able to put into words; I was annoyed but I also recognised that she has no idea how it feels to experience these things.

There is someone else with me in here. He can’t speak but he can take over my body; stiffening up my legs so that I can’t walk or shutting down my brain so that I can’t think.

So I chose avoidance (although I think that ‘chose’ is a long way from being an appropriate word), and have stayed home.

I hated seeing the look in my fiancées eyes as she left without giving me a kiss goodbye. I hated feeling that whoever it is that’s in me had let me down. I felt anger and frustration and had the desire to lash out but, having felt that way many times before, self-control pervaded and I managed not to.

The frustration has mostly evaporated now but will I learn my lesson for next time?

Am I still ill?

They labelled me; first with OCD and later as a paranoid schizophrenic. Now I wonder what it’d be like living without a label.

Back in school when my problems started I thought that everyone was going through the same difficulties as me but somehow, where I wasn’t able to deal with them, they were. Then came the diagnosis and with it everything suddenly made sense.

(There’s no use speculating as to whether my problems had something to do with my head injury or whether they were there from the beginning - I just don’t know. There is also the possibility that the world is just too fucked up for my poor human brain to cope with!)

A lot of people aren’t very receptive when receiving a diagnosis of mental illness, but I was. There was something romantic about being diagnosed and having treatment and being prescribed medication. It made me feel special.

I felt like I was out of the TV program Six Feet Under, being put on meds; and that made me feel even more special. I used to try and meld myself to the personalities of the characters I’d see on TV and in movies instead of simply recognising portions of myself that resonated with them.

I remember sitting in with the psychiatrist and saying that the world doesn’t seem real to me. I didn’t know if my parents were really my parents; I didn’t even know which thoughts were my own.

I’m always trying to find a reason. Why can’t I work while at the same time I am ok doing other things? Is it weird not knowing why you’re unable to do something? Maybe it’s like with science in that some things just haven’t been proved yet.

I am this way and there is a reason behind it but it just hasn’t been understood yet. That’s interesting though because even with a reason to validate it, it doesn’t change anything. Giving something a name doesn’t mean it’s resolved like with the discovery of a new element.

Is understanding fundamental to overcoming your problems? “Knowledge is power”, right? Or is it? Maybe living by your instincts is the key to happiness. But who can do that? The world is a lie that has grown out of control. We are all fucked up pieces of meat who don’t have a clue! Born into a world that doesn’t make sense, that isn’t natural. Trying to live instinctively because that is natural but then this man made thing comes along and it all goes Pete Tong!

Nobody fits into a box. We all live in the grey areas and that is what makes us fantastic. You can’t say I’m a paranoid schizophrenic because that is an empty statement. I am a human; there is nothing wrong with me. I am not ill; I am just grey.

You can diagnose someone with a physical problem like diabetes but mental illness is totally different; there’s no evidence that for everyone it is a problem in the brain. I think it’s a problem with the world we live in.

So what to do?