So, having been away from the blogosphere for a couple of weeks, I finally have something to report. Yes, after many years of not getting on in life, I actually managed to get an interview for a new voluntary job. The role involves working at a local school, helping some of the children with their reading skills. I think, and hope, that with the qualifications I have, I will be able to live up to the expectations and responsibilities that such a position carries. I know it's only a voluntary role, but all the same, if I am chosen to do it (which, by the way, is not yet certain) it can only help me in looking for other opportunities.
At the interview I was asked to disclose my diagnosis, which I, being the honest and upstanding person that I am, did. The news was taken by the interviewer, I thought, quite well, although he did remark that the illness I am diagnosed with remains "an emotive word". "Indeed", I thought, "and then some".
In fact, I don't know how I'd react if I knew that someone with a history of schizophrenic illness were teaching my children, if I had any, that is. I know that I am now well and pose no risk to anyone, but I also know that perceptions of my illness can range from the simply misconstrued to the downright hurtful, and I wouldn't want to put myself in a vulnerable position by laying myself open to discriminatory attitudes and behaviours. This is something, I think, I have to consider before taking on such a role, as it seems to me that people can often, and understandably so, be irrational when it comes to the safety of their children, and also, of course, when it comes to dealing with people with experience of mental ill health. So far I have largely been involved in areas to do with mental illness itself. Such an environment is comfortable and safe for me, but then again I do want to branch out into other areas.
It could be that these doubts and worries are all to do with self-stigma and the limitations people with experience of mental ill health impose on themselves because they think that stigma will affect them, rather than having concrete proof that such things will happen. I mean, look at me, I haven't even been offered the post yet, and already I'm thinking that there may be trouble ahead.
Anyway, I hope you'll wish me luck as I venture into the bear-pit which is, for want of a better phrase, "normal" life.
Friday, 16 March 2012
Thursday, 1 March 2012
Schizophrenia as Split Personality- Where Does the Myth Come From?
Recently, at the Media Action Group for Mental Health, we have been formulating some ideas for our "Local People, Local Lives" campaign. As part of our project we will be producing postcards showing various artworks produced by the volunteers in our group of places in our locality of Stoke-on-Trent. The postcards will also have an anti-stigma message, and attempt to bring about a change in attitudes towards mental ill health. As we discussed how we would go about doing this, it became clear to us that one of the most pervasive and persistent myths about schizophrenic illness was that it is often viewed as a "split", or "Jekyll and Hyde", personality. Those who read this blog will know that this common perception of schizophrenia is entirely false, and so we began to wonder just where the misconception came from.
I have often written in this blog that this myth may be due in no small part to the name "schizophrenia" itself, and it appears, that since Bleuler coined the term (which roughly translates from the Greek as "splitting of the mind") there has been confusion over it. It seems that through Bleuler and his translators this myth grew up, and it has persisted ever since. The origins of the "schizophrenia as a split personality" misconception, then, may have been as much to do with the professional interpretation of the illness as simple lay misinterpretation.
Indeed, at the Media Action Group, it was suggested that around the time the term was coined, Freud was also making groundbreaking revelations about the human psyche with his notion of the unconscious, the dark, nether regions of the mind which remain, in our conscious minds, repressed. This fits in rather nicely with Robert Louis Stevenson's tale of the "good", or at least socially proper, Dr. Jekyll, and the "evil", or atavistic and criminal, Mr. Hyde. Perhaps it was that such theories and stories fed into the whole cultural notion of what it was to be human, and such new ideas came to be connected to the "split mind" definition of schizophrenia.
However, this still does not entirely explain why it should be that schizophrenia became directly associated with split personality. It was suggested in our little meeting that schizophrenia is such a complex condition that it probably does not lend itself to any simple interpretation. Unlike bipolar disorder, for example, it is not so easily summed up. So, it is perhaps only logical that the simple, "split personality" notion became an easier way of understanding an illness which, in any case, was surrounded by so much semantic confusion.
What is clear is that, in actuality, schizophrenia has nothing to do with a split personality, as it is understood by the general lay person, and that, through some bizarre slippage in our understanding of the language used to describe the illness, a purely medical term has come to have so many negative associations.
I have often written in this blog that this myth may be due in no small part to the name "schizophrenia" itself, and it appears, that since Bleuler coined the term (which roughly translates from the Greek as "splitting of the mind") there has been confusion over it. It seems that through Bleuler and his translators this myth grew up, and it has persisted ever since. The origins of the "schizophrenia as a split personality" misconception, then, may have been as much to do with the professional interpretation of the illness as simple lay misinterpretation.
Indeed, at the Media Action Group, it was suggested that around the time the term was coined, Freud was also making groundbreaking revelations about the human psyche with his notion of the unconscious, the dark, nether regions of the mind which remain, in our conscious minds, repressed. This fits in rather nicely with Robert Louis Stevenson's tale of the "good", or at least socially proper, Dr. Jekyll, and the "evil", or atavistic and criminal, Mr. Hyde. Perhaps it was that such theories and stories fed into the whole cultural notion of what it was to be human, and such new ideas came to be connected to the "split mind" definition of schizophrenia.
Poster for the 1931 movie of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
What is clear is that, in actuality, schizophrenia has nothing to do with a split personality, as it is understood by the general lay person, and that, through some bizarre slippage in our understanding of the language used to describe the illness, a purely medical term has come to have so many negative associations.
Thursday, 23 February 2012
"Homeland"- A Rare, Accurate Depiction of Mental Ill Health.
I often get on my high horse in this blog about inaccurate, unrealistic and misrepresentative portrayals of mental ill health in films and the rest of the media. You may recall that I was up in arms about a film called "Roommate", which to my mind contained one of the worst, most inaccurate and fear-inducing representations of mental illness I had seen in recent times. It is nice to report, then, that having watched the first episode of the American drama series "Homeland", which was screened for the first time on British television last Sunday on Channel 4, I can say that I was quite pleased with the portrayal of one of the main character's apparent mental "instability".
The series stars Claire Daines as Carrie Matheson, a CIA officer who comes to believe that an American Marine (played by Brit Damian Lewis), who was held captive by Al-Qaeda for eight years, has actually been "turned" by the enemy and now, upon his otherwise heroic return to home territory, represents a threat to national security.
The only problem is that seemingly everyone except Carrie considers the Marine, Nicholas Brody, to be a war hero. He is welcomed back home with a show of patriotic pageantry, with even Carrie's superiors at the CIA having nothing but admiration for him, and when she airs her suspicions, she is told bluntly that she is quite obviously barking up the wrong tree.
To add further tension to the situation, we soon learn that Carrie has experience of mental ill health, and takes anti-psychotic medication, a problem she has been battling with since the age of 22. However, very much unlike the "psychotic" character in "Roommate", Carrie is not violent, devious and generally just bad, but rather holds down her (very stressful, important) job, and even her suspicions of Brody are based on a certain amount of evidence, having been told by an "asset" whilst on an unauthorised operation in Iraq that there was an American prisoner of war who had been turned by the enemy.
The dramatic tension then comes from the doubt over whether Brody is, in fact, this soldier who has been turned. Is it just that Carrie's mental instability is causing her to read too much into things? Are her bosses right, or just being misled? Is Brody actually what Carrie thinks he is? The series makes it clear, with a number of flashbacks to Brody's time in captivity, that Carrie is correct to at least suspect him. But, the moment I found really interesting, was when, near to the end of the first episode, Carrie spots Brody, in a number of the TV appearances he made upon his return to America, moving his fingers in a way that seems to her to be a coded message. She takes this as meaning that he is making contact, in some way, with other Al-Qaeda terrorists. To my mind, this is exactly the sort of thing which, without Carrie's grounds for her suspicions, might be taken as a delusion of reference, where a meaning is read into something which is simply not there. So, again the question is posed: is Carrie's mental ill health governing what she sees, or is it that such observations make her an ace CIA operative? Is she ill, or is she brilliant, and can see what no one else apparently can?
I found all this to be an interesting and realistic portrayal of someone with experience of a psychotic condition, and am glad I took the time to watch the start of this series. Apart from anything else, the dramatic tension which was established with this opening episode just makes for damn good television. Add to that the pleasingly accurate representation of Carrie's mental health, and I'm a happy bunny. If only there were more of this type of portrayal out there, the stigma surrounding such conditions may not be as great.
The series stars Claire Daines as Carrie Matheson, a CIA officer who comes to believe that an American Marine (played by Brit Damian Lewis), who was held captive by Al-Qaeda for eight years, has actually been "turned" by the enemy and now, upon his otherwise heroic return to home territory, represents a threat to national security.
The only problem is that seemingly everyone except Carrie considers the Marine, Nicholas Brody, to be a war hero. He is welcomed back home with a show of patriotic pageantry, with even Carrie's superiors at the CIA having nothing but admiration for him, and when she airs her suspicions, she is told bluntly that she is quite obviously barking up the wrong tree.
To add further tension to the situation, we soon learn that Carrie has experience of mental ill health, and takes anti-psychotic medication, a problem she has been battling with since the age of 22. However, very much unlike the "psychotic" character in "Roommate", Carrie is not violent, devious and generally just bad, but rather holds down her (very stressful, important) job, and even her suspicions of Brody are based on a certain amount of evidence, having been told by an "asset" whilst on an unauthorised operation in Iraq that there was an American prisoner of war who had been turned by the enemy.
The dramatic tension then comes from the doubt over whether Brody is, in fact, this soldier who has been turned. Is it just that Carrie's mental instability is causing her to read too much into things? Are her bosses right, or just being misled? Is Brody actually what Carrie thinks he is? The series makes it clear, with a number of flashbacks to Brody's time in captivity, that Carrie is correct to at least suspect him. But, the moment I found really interesting, was when, near to the end of the first episode, Carrie spots Brody, in a number of the TV appearances he made upon his return to America, moving his fingers in a way that seems to her to be a coded message. She takes this as meaning that he is making contact, in some way, with other Al-Qaeda terrorists. To my mind, this is exactly the sort of thing which, without Carrie's grounds for her suspicions, might be taken as a delusion of reference, where a meaning is read into something which is simply not there. So, again the question is posed: is Carrie's mental ill health governing what she sees, or is it that such observations make her an ace CIA operative? Is she ill, or is she brilliant, and can see what no one else apparently can?
I found all this to be an interesting and realistic portrayal of someone with experience of a psychotic condition, and am glad I took the time to watch the start of this series. Apart from anything else, the dramatic tension which was established with this opening episode just makes for damn good television. Add to that the pleasingly accurate representation of Carrie's mental health, and I'm a happy bunny. If only there were more of this type of portrayal out there, the stigma surrounding such conditions may not be as great.
Saturday, 18 February 2012
My Other Obscure Object of Desire.
Anyone who regularly reads this blog may recall that a while back I wrote a posting entitled "That Obscure Object of Desire", after the Luis Bunuel film of the same name. In that instance my particular obscure object of desire was TV chef and all-round uber-babe Nigella Lawson. But, as Nigella, with her sexy, husky voice and comely curves has now been missing from our screens for a while, her place has been taken by another erotic obsession in my increasingly middle-aged, male psyche.
All it takes to describe my new obscure object of desire is two words. And here they are. Kirstie Allsop. There you go. Kirstie. Allsop. Notice how even the name alone seems to trip off the tongue, taking a tap, as Nabokov put it, on the teeth. Kir-stie-All-sop.
So what is it about Kirstie that gets me, and seemingly many other approaching middle-agedom males, in a lather? Well, for a start, Kirstie shares a certain, particularly sexy, attribute with Nigella, and that is her vixen-like voice. Although unlike Nigella's softer, huskier tones, Kirstie's somewhat clipped, very English, slightly nasal vocal chords nonetheless seem to imbue an immediate sense of well-being. Her obvious poshness seems to imply a certain moral correctness, but listen to Kirstie for long enough and it becomes all too apparent that beneath that facade hides a mischievous (and frankly, sexual) playfulness. And when Kirstie declares, as in her most recent TV programme, "Kirstie's Handmade Britain", that "you haven't lived unless you've seen a W.I. craft tent", it veritably drips with eroticism.
Also like Nigella, Kirstie is not one of those stick-thin supermodel types. Rather, she is a handsome size 12-14, remarking herself in an interview with the "Mirror" newspaper that she has never been "a slip of a thing". So, if I may be so bold, I think there is a slightly motherly, homely quality to Kirstie's physique, and with her always respectable dress sense, long skirts and sensible shoes (she even sometimes wears wellies), this can only fuel one's imagination and provoke further longing.
Unfortunately though, again like Nigella, Kirstie is a married lady with two children of her own, as well as being stepmother to her husband's two children. So, it seems, once again, my obscure object of desire will only ever be a televisual pleasure. And as I lie back and think of dear, old England, it appears that Kirsie will only ever occupy one space near to me, which is inside my own mind.
Also, you could say that Kirstie and I are at polar opposites of the social spectrum, and do not, seemingly, share any sort of political beliefs. After all, she is (allegedly) an adviser to the Conservative Party on housing matters, and her family background can only be described as aristocratic. Her Father is the former chairman of "Christie's", Charles Henry Allsop, 6th Baron Hindlip, and his peerage allows her to use the moniker "The Honourable" Kirstie Allsop. So, what is it with me and posh birds? Could it be that I secretly harbour a begrudging working-class admiration for my so-called betters?
I don't really know the answer to that question. All I do know is is that Kirstie has become my other, tantalising obscure object of desire.
All it takes to describe my new obscure object of desire is two words. And here they are. Kirstie Allsop. There you go. Kirstie. Allsop. Notice how even the name alone seems to trip off the tongue, taking a tap, as Nabokov put it, on the teeth. Kir-stie-All-sop.
So what is it about Kirstie that gets me, and seemingly many other approaching middle-agedom males, in a lather? Well, for a start, Kirstie shares a certain, particularly sexy, attribute with Nigella, and that is her vixen-like voice. Although unlike Nigella's softer, huskier tones, Kirstie's somewhat clipped, very English, slightly nasal vocal chords nonetheless seem to imbue an immediate sense of well-being. Her obvious poshness seems to imply a certain moral correctness, but listen to Kirstie for long enough and it becomes all too apparent that beneath that facade hides a mischievous (and frankly, sexual) playfulness. And when Kirstie declares, as in her most recent TV programme, "Kirstie's Handmade Britain", that "you haven't lived unless you've seen a W.I. craft tent", it veritably drips with eroticism.
Also like Nigella, Kirstie is not one of those stick-thin supermodel types. Rather, she is a handsome size 12-14, remarking herself in an interview with the "Mirror" newspaper that she has never been "a slip of a thing". So, if I may be so bold, I think there is a slightly motherly, homely quality to Kirstie's physique, and with her always respectable dress sense, long skirts and sensible shoes (she even sometimes wears wellies), this can only fuel one's imagination and provoke further longing.
Unfortunately though, again like Nigella, Kirstie is a married lady with two children of her own, as well as being stepmother to her husband's two children. So, it seems, once again, my obscure object of desire will only ever be a televisual pleasure. And as I lie back and think of dear, old England, it appears that Kirsie will only ever occupy one space near to me, which is inside my own mind.
Also, you could say that Kirstie and I are at polar opposites of the social spectrum, and do not, seemingly, share any sort of political beliefs. After all, she is (allegedly) an adviser to the Conservative Party on housing matters, and her family background can only be described as aristocratic. Her Father is the former chairman of "Christie's", Charles Henry Allsop, 6th Baron Hindlip, and his peerage allows her to use the moniker "The Honourable" Kirstie Allsop. So, what is it with me and posh birds? Could it be that I secretly harbour a begrudging working-class admiration for my so-called betters?
I don't really know the answer to that question. All I do know is is that Kirstie has become my other, tantalising obscure object of desire.
Saturday, 11 February 2012
Free at Last! Free at Last! Thank God Almighty, I am Free at Last!
I have now been officially discharged from mental health services. They have decided that I am now well enough to go my own way and seek my fortune. Or something like that, anyway. It was at a care plan meeting at my local residential unit yesterday that I was informed of this decision. I was asked how I felt about this, to which I replied that I was "OK" about it. What I think I really meant was, "Yippee- free at last! free at last! thank God almighty, I am free at last!".
OK, so I'm being a little facetious, and the notion that being under the care of mental health services somehow means that you are not "free" is a bit unfair to them. After all, despite some (significant, to my mind, at least) glitches in my treatment, they have played an instrumental part in my recovery. Since joining the Pathways Group, for example, I only seem to have got better. Being part of the "Lifestyle Project", which was run within the group, also helped me on my way in losing weight, and that has been significant in enhancing my well-being. The social aspect of the help of mental health services has had a significant impact on how I relate to other people, and the many staff I have come to know have been kind and generous in their care. Indeed, they (in particular clinical lead nurse Janet Sigley) seem always to be showering me (and others in the Pathways Group) with praise, and they have taken the time to build on existing abilities and thereby enhance them. I believe this has had a great effect on my mindset, and instead of being so self-critical, I now try to concentrate on all the positives in my life. At the meeting yesterday, for example, Janet gave a glowing assessment of all the things I've been involved with through mental health services, and also an extremely favourable summing up of what I was like as a person.
Although I have been discharged, I will still be allowed to go to the Pathways Group, and will still be involved in other areas of the mental health field. I may, for example, be involved in the training of student nurses, and I was told yesterday that I may be asked to co-author a paper, together with Janet and our consultant psychiatrist, on the "Lifestyle Project" in which I took part, which will be published in a psychiatric journal.
So, not only have mental health services helped me get better, it is also the case that all the things I have been involved with through them may help to impress any prospective employer. As well as my voluntary work, I can mention all the things me and the Pathways Group have achieved, and for that I am extremely grateful.
There is, though, just a sneaky part of me which is glad at what has been decided. Although the positives greatly outweigh them, there have been, of course, certain negative aspects to my involvement with mental health services. They are a long time ago now, but one would hope that the improvements in services I have seen since the inception of my involvement with them continue.
Now, for me, I have to consider life without any further appointments or care plan meetings. But, it's not as if I'm being totally set adrift to cope on my own. Any problems or apparent relapses into illness and all it will take is a 'phone call to fast-track me back into services. And I would just say a great, big thank you to everyone who has helped me on my way to being this well. For me, though, this seems more like a beginning than an end. It seems like the opening of an opportunity, or a possibility. Life, it seems, is like the sea- vast, unplumbed, mysterious. I plan to open out my nets, and pull.
OK, so I'm being a little facetious, and the notion that being under the care of mental health services somehow means that you are not "free" is a bit unfair to them. After all, despite some (significant, to my mind, at least) glitches in my treatment, they have played an instrumental part in my recovery. Since joining the Pathways Group, for example, I only seem to have got better. Being part of the "Lifestyle Project", which was run within the group, also helped me on my way in losing weight, and that has been significant in enhancing my well-being. The social aspect of the help of mental health services has had a significant impact on how I relate to other people, and the many staff I have come to know have been kind and generous in their care. Indeed, they (in particular clinical lead nurse Janet Sigley) seem always to be showering me (and others in the Pathways Group) with praise, and they have taken the time to build on existing abilities and thereby enhance them. I believe this has had a great effect on my mindset, and instead of being so self-critical, I now try to concentrate on all the positives in my life. At the meeting yesterday, for example, Janet gave a glowing assessment of all the things I've been involved with through mental health services, and also an extremely favourable summing up of what I was like as a person.
Although I have been discharged, I will still be allowed to go to the Pathways Group, and will still be involved in other areas of the mental health field. I may, for example, be involved in the training of student nurses, and I was told yesterday that I may be asked to co-author a paper, together with Janet and our consultant psychiatrist, on the "Lifestyle Project" in which I took part, which will be published in a psychiatric journal.
So, not only have mental health services helped me get better, it is also the case that all the things I have been involved with through them may help to impress any prospective employer. As well as my voluntary work, I can mention all the things me and the Pathways Group have achieved, and for that I am extremely grateful.
There is, though, just a sneaky part of me which is glad at what has been decided. Although the positives greatly outweigh them, there have been, of course, certain negative aspects to my involvement with mental health services. They are a long time ago now, but one would hope that the improvements in services I have seen since the inception of my involvement with them continue.
Now, for me, I have to consider life without any further appointments or care plan meetings. But, it's not as if I'm being totally set adrift to cope on my own. Any problems or apparent relapses into illness and all it will take is a 'phone call to fast-track me back into services. And I would just say a great, big thank you to everyone who has helped me on my way to being this well. For me, though, this seems more like a beginning than an end. It seems like the opening of an opportunity, or a possibility. Life, it seems, is like the sea- vast, unplumbed, mysterious. I plan to open out my nets, and pull.
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