Crash & Recovery: 2016 Edition

Two weeks and six days: that’s how long I’ve spent in psychiatric units this time.  Looking at it all long-term, my times in hospital have become more spread out and my recovery from them quicker, so much so with the latter that I’m almost looking over my shoulder wondering how this recovery could have taken place.

Although the warning signs were there – I was yearning for the past times I’d spent in hospital, I was neglecting my social life and becoming increasingly disconnected – I’m starting to view these times spent in care as somehow necessary, something of a release from the build-up of detrimental environmental factors in the absence of adequate problem-solving skills, things you can only really pick up after the event.

My psychiatrist, however, doesn’t take the more positive, recovery-oriented view of all this that I do.  To him, any form of ‘relapse’ is a sign of failure and yet, since 2007-8, every relapse has been followed by improved functioning and greater clarity.

It hasn’t been easy but the results may be worth it. Identifying that I was probably right in concluding that my initial – and mistaken – spell in hospital led to post-traumatic stress, I’ve had to almost apply treatment for this on my own though I’m pretty sure I’ve been successful, talking out issues which had been dancing in the back of my mind for years.

The plan had been to rework my relationship with past thinking and events so that they’re more power-balanced, losing their ability to cause disruption in the back of my mind, and to confuse by bringing them to the front.  Again, I’m pretty sure I’ve pulled this off, but time will tell, I suppose, and it’s way too early to predict whether this has been a successful venture or some Quixotic folly.

My first week and four days, at the County’s central unit, were chaos.  I was too far gone. Then, returning to home ground (where I’m writing this now) – Kidderminster’s ward – I was met with familiar faces who soon had me levelling off, stabilised, to be followed by compounding improvements in the following days to the point of a near full recovery now, though with the sense that it’s all happened so rapidly it’s a wonder any of it has.

Facebook, although the bulk of its content has become pitiful, would also provide a link to the integration of the personality, reminding me of better times and places – reacquainting me with my social self, the person I’m agreed to be.  Mental health wards used to be almost hermetically-sealed worlds with no ‘outside’. You were there, that’s all there was and, before you knew it, you, too, could find yourself policing on behalf of the powerful against the weak.

Social media has changed things and, although it’s taken the NHS and psychiatry some time to jump on board and allow common access to smartphones on many wards, access to a forum which can, while being hazardous when paranoid, for example, offers an link to the wider community and providing a counterbalance to an environment which can be so conservative and infantilising as to almost drive you insane.

Things have changed.  I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve been admitted to various hospitals, but when I first came here 16 years ago, I was struck with how archaic psychiatry is.  All these years later, though change is traditionally slow, there are positive signs and I’m now struck with how much these people – the staff and patients – have to deal with and how well they often manage, against the odds, and usually with ideas and approaches which, although now almost taken for granted they’re so popularly – and blindly – accepted, can leave a lot to be desired. Improvements in even basic problem solving skills are needed here.

In those 16 years, services have declined, with all manner of initiatives dropped and space once used for activities now used for offices as managerialism has swept through the sector and paperwork rather than actual nursing and care have become the name of the game.  Staff have come and gone, too.  With many, because you’re meeting them at emotionally-charged times across a prolonged period, you build up an interesting and unique relationship.  When they retire, the place just isn’t the same.

That said, things have improved in the two years since I was last here.  Communication has improved greatly – staff are now not so rushed in prioritising paperwork and instead are frequently to be found making concerted efforts to reach out to patients and develop relationships, echoing the approach and personality of the new ward manager.  That said, the issues with activities and space remain so that only one communal area has been left in place and even that’s a confined, restricted and at times claustrophobic area.

As time passes, I’m becoming one of the older patients. I first noticed it the last time I was in hospital as I developed a more conciliatory partnership with staff, rather than the old confrontational approach.  The edges do tend to soften with age and I still see newbies making the same mistakes I did way back when while noticing myself making the same mistakes the oldies made when I was a newbie.

All told, though, this admission has been welcome in retrospect.  Things had built up over time which I needed to stop and think about though it was unlikely that would happen the way things were.  It’s also been good to reconnect with people I’d become way too dismissive of as I researched the background of mental health. And I can feel the difference even now, at this early stage, of having cleared out a lot of baggage to reach some new, better stage.

Following this spell in hospital, I’ve realised that I need to develop my social life, not shutting myself away like I did in the time between this and my last admission. Social media, alone, clearly isn’t enough.  I’ll go over that, and other things, in a planning meeting scheduled for tomorrow afternoon, where I should be allowed back home for a week before being discharged from the hospital and removed off the section.

As for the future, in productive terms, there’s a project I’ve been working on for quite some time, now.  I’ve now decided to target it at a general audience, rather than a mental health one as I initially planned, but I’m also thinking of postponing it to set up some sort of drop-in centre, as current offerings just aren’t cutting it, something needs to be done and the people I’ve met on my travels need something that currently isn’t being offered to them.

A Moment Passed

I’m split. Part of me wants to do something; the other part wants to relax and think, taking stock of what’s happened and what it signals for the future. Let’s compromise: I’ll write something, something that won’t make sense, but that’s not the point.

It feels like the end of the school year – all your work’s done, there’s nothing left to do after putting all your effort into something that’s now reached its natural conclusion. Feelings of accomplishment mixed with exhaustion, loss, finality but also possibility.

It’s too early to say whether or not I’ve been entirely successful, but the signs are good, even though that’s possibly not the vibe I’m giving off in this. Again, that’s not the point. What I set out to do, I think I’ve achieved. That didn’t come into clear view until late in the process, appearing only gradually and in different forms until, layer upon layer, in the final moments of the whole thing, what I needed to do and why I needed to do it became evident. It finally all made sense.


My Fitness Tracker


Last night I could have died. It wouldn’t have mattered. Smashed by a succession of illnesses and severe sleep-loss, it was one of those rare moments when you’re so fucked you realise there’s nothing left to do because you’ve already done everything you set out to do. Your meaning’s been realised and your life’s seen out its course. This never lasts long and it suggests life’s some sort of road with staging posts, not uncomfortable places to be while they last.

This year – this staging post – was always going to be difficult, though. It’s 20 years since I first started having it really tough in life and, though such anniversaries shouldn’t really mean that much, we’re human, and we often replay key moments. Within that were a whole host of more recent memories, clouding my mind even further for not far off a decade. And yet, last night, because of how things had gone, it all made sense, it was all packaged up and put away once and for all.

Different place, this world, now, with a different outlook. The structure I’m putting on these events makes them all look almost pre-determined, as if there’s some great scheme of things, some intelligent design to it all. Maybe there is. I don’t know and I’m not sure it matters. What I do know is that life’s different all of a sudden. I’m still me and the experiences I’ve had are still part of my make-up, but it’s an evolved me where the events have taken on a new meaning and place in life. ‘That Moment,’ my last post, wasn’t what I thought it was at the time. Again, the layers were being revealed as something which would become much more substantial and important to me. Now that post means something different, something better.

I don’t use a lot of the social media I use for the usual reasons. I don’t see that kind of use as serving much of a purpose. Social media at the moment isn’t really going anywhere and we seem to be in some sort of limbo. I’ve also not got a lot to benefit from in building a ‘social media reputation’ or in fostering primarily networked relationships.

Some time ago my usage evolved into me going to the ropes and using social media in a way which suited me and what I wanted out of it. There’s not much conversation on many of these networks, so I use my imaginary friends instead. Because my Twitter account is so bad in number-crunching, status-seeking terms, I’m generally blocked or otherwise ignored, certainly not taken seriously most of the time, if at all.

Better, then, to have an imaginary audience, one which performs for you. My imaginary audience isn’t too petty (but just enough) and has a highly-developed bullshit detector. It’s knowledgeable in a variety of relevant topics and sees things, not in a temporary fashion, but as part of an ongoing process, leading somewhere. It sees social media, in the short and the long-term, as a tool for personal and social change. My imaginary audience, obviously, is me during my better moments.

I’m not entirely sure why, but I tend to throw out a lot of highly personal stuff – stuff which my follower-count suggests I shouldn’t in the manner in which I do. But that’s not enough to stop me from doing it. It’s become almost a compulsion, partly because the rewards have been so worthwhile over time. I don’t throw around everything – there’s a few things even I wouldn’t – but enough to be a cause of embarrassment, if I saw it all that way (I don’t, though I’ve got to take into account other people can).

It’s a bad strategy for social media use as we’ve come to think of strategy. So bad, I’m probably the only person who’ll ever use social media in such a way to talk to himself. That might end, now, as I’ve reached some sort of conclusion with a particular approach to life. If it does, I’ll miss it a bit, though I’m sure other approaches will take its place, as they tend to. It seems to have served its purpose, now, and if it’s time to move on, then it’s time.

Does the same apply to other things? YouTube, for example? I don’t know. I’m once more starting to make videos I actually like, videos which are getting closer to my voice, rather than one too heavily reliant on existing media influences. That comes across in how I’m talking to camera, too, as the power of the lens and the world behind it have balanced, with me coming more to the fore from beneath the avalanche of memories which has buried too much in the back of my mind for too long.

I can still vividly remember the day, about 20 years ago – the where, the when, the who – when I told a friend I was getting too cynical, pretending I didn’t know why, but understanding all too well that things were going drastically wrong. Even without, at that time, a thorough understanding of my local culture, I somehow knew they would in ways which told me that in small, cut-off communities, crazes around archaic subjects like witchcraft and wizardry may have changed their overt subject matter, but the characterisations, bizarre beliefs and motivations retain their ability to consume even while their victims are convinced of their sanity and modernity. The craziest of times would last a long time, fuelled by the type of characters you can possibly imagine.

You don’t want to hear it. You really don’t. Even if you did, you wouldn’t believe a lot of it and no-one would admit enough to verify what I can say about it all. But I no longer need to verify or even tell it. It’s done. The craziest of times were over a long time ago and in not processing it all properly, they lingered in my memory, retaining a sort of relevance. But in taking the longer route, I now understand it all even more, and in exposing their true meaning, they’ve lost their power to haunt. They’re very dead ghosts.

There. There’s a bit of writing. I’ll post this. A few people might read it and I’m even dumb enough to check the stats. Double-figures mean party time, let’s put it that way. It’ll probably read bizarrely, but my imaginary audience will work away on it and all the rest of everything else to seal in place this peculiar, but successful method of progress, which is opening up the world again on more peaceful terms. For the first time in about 20 years, I can feel the soil beneath my feet and, if only you knew, you’d know that that’s some achievement.

Re-engaging with the creative impulse

It’s been a while since I’ve blogged to this site or posted one of my pictures to Flickr, along with a commentary. Pity, I enjoyed doing those. Other networks took over, though, but in doing so, they dulled my use of technology, not least for creative expression, becoming too familiar and, consequently, leading to content which was hackneyed and uninspiring.  Recently, it’s become evident that changes needed to be made.

I’m starting to appreciate that the better souls who use these networks really need to somehow lead the way back more to content which involves, challenges and helps develop people again, like in the very early days of social media. That brings me to the content I posted on Flickr years ago, content which I’ve since made private for a number of reasons. I may republish it all, but maybe it’s more important to put the lessons learned there into fresh content which develops what came to me then and what’s come to me because of that since.

Leaving a few social media networks and reconfiguring my phone more around the mobile web and creative apps, it’s time to pick up where I left off, with the added benefits of having had a break to gather my thoughts and come back fresher – and maybe wiser – in many ways. While I’m in the process of researching around an initiative I hope, perhaps, to bring to fruition in the coming years, I will try in the meantime to juggle the posting of new content without revealing too much, too prematurely about what I’m doing behind the scenes. There’s sharks out there, you know.

The only question I have is whether to post here or at Flickr. I think I’ll settle here on WordPress, now. Even though I think my stuff on Flickr was better than I realised at the time, especially in retrospect, this isn’t then and I like this place.

It’s taken a while to navigate through a series of often bitter experiences down the years – much longer than I ever thought it would – but now I’m edging ever more across the boundary to the other side, let’s hope it’s time I can put all these adventures and misadventures to some sort of use.

Madness, Toothpaste and the Two-Percent Problem

Rough guess: between 2-5% of people writing about madness in the media and online know what they’re talking about.  I don’t include myself in that figure, because I’m still developing my thinking and have quite a bit more to learn about the field, but I’m fast getting there.  The thing is, if it’s only 2%, how come?

What with the fact that psychiatry is heavily about engineering conformity to norms along with what I wrote last time about the copycat element of ‘self-harming’ not to mention the placebo effect involved in anti-depressants’ successes, I can’t help but link in the success of orthodox psychiatry’s powerful position with studies pointing to poorly considered conformity to authority and status.

Indeed, the success of neo-Kraepelin psychiatry’s smoke and mirrors can be equated with the way the toothpaste brands used to sell us their products on TV, with an actor dressed in a lab suit using pseudo-scientific phrases about whiter than white.  What with bio-reductionist psychiatry flying in the face of science, along with the disempowered helplessness of people persuaded by the constructed pathologizing of much ‘normal’ behaviour, not to mention more transgressive thoughts and acts, I have to wonder whether psychiatry’s success in pulling the wool over most people’s eyes is down to little more than disempowerment by misinformation and conformity to what’s seen as a higher order.

It’s easy to stereotype dissenters when you’re living within the confines of traditional psychiatry.  They must be scientologists, they’re in denial, they’re dinosaurs compared with our modernity, and so on.  But, because I’ve been on both sides, now, it should be easier to see the terrain of this debate in better ways.  Going on my own experiences (and having transformed them), then, I’ve often rebelled against the system only to find myself, once medicated, at the disempowering extreme of complete conformity to the norms and values of the system and my locale – both fairly reactionary and conservative – which I’m not ordinarily instep with philosophically.

In your conformity, though, you also face abandoning any argument that risks true analysis and clarity of the true state of affairs by putting such questioning and doubt down to illness in the face of what can be the overwhelming opinion of those around you, especially on mental health wards, not to mention online, in the media and, well, in society in general.  You fail to even begin to realise that there are many ways of perceiving and acting around popular conceptions of causal factors and mental states, pathologized and decontextualised or otherwise.  Sometimes, in desperation and the absence of any understanding of the possibility of better alternatives, you may want to believe in something – anything – and traditional psychiatry increasingly fits the bill, backed by limited perceptions and blatant falsehoods almost everywhere you look.

You maintain what many in the system have long experience of – inadequate reasoning, poor problem-solving skills and other common features of problematic relationships – to reject good arguments and laud the bad, especially when these come in the form of the sales techniques of toothpaste manufacturers.  You sacrifice empowerment over even information by surrendering your mind and senses to the wit of people who don’t tell you the truth about iatrogenic effects, causal factors, how psychiatry really conducts itself across the board from research to treatment, diagnostic irregularities, and so on, but instead give an air of authority and prestige in making many declarations about things of which there’s no certainty on the one hand and make-believe on the other.

This isn’t to say that people who advocate neo-Kraepelin psychiatry are bad people.  I’ve yet to meet anyone in the system who, at some stage, I didn’t think went into the service of people to help them.  But the fact that their work is based on a belief system that flies in the face of reliable science means that what you’ll often find – in the rare moments when there is the chance of effective debate – is the very type of reasoning errors and bogus stunts that can look so reasonable to those who often know little better because of their past exposure to similar ways of arguing: for example, shooting the messenger, giving incomplete evidence, not engaging with arguments when you don’t have the evidence so you don’t have to admit it, ‘Crucible’ logic and the prestige suggestion so heavily involved in also selling toothpaste.

That, by my very rough estimate, merely 2% of people in the media and online actually know what they’re talking about when they discuss madness, could say many things to many people.  To me it isn’t a sign of an open and shut case according to popular opinion (though I could easily become derogatory in arguing that).  Instead, it says that there’s a societal problem around norms, prestige and empowerment (not to mention professional, financial and political interests) which needs an overhaul in radical and creative ways.

Earlier today, I read a tweet by a prominent psychiatrist apparently debunking a theory about madness.  He was wrong in fact and dubious in his casual populism. The temptation was to engage him.  I didn’t bother, partly because of the reasons outlined in this post, but also partly because, despite everything, I didn’t want to just in case I was had, as I also buy toothpaste based on the dubious claims of actors in lab suits.

Are we ever going to understand mental health?

I’ve lost count of the articles about the death of Robin Williams that point out that mental illness doesn’t discriminate, while going on to suggest that it does. It doesn’t discriminate, the authors say, because it can touch everyone, rich and poor; famous and unknown – only to go on and write that there are ‘risk factors’, for example, which are more likely among the poorer section of a population. Maybe they understand what they’re saying. Maybe they’ll make their minds up one day. Maybe they’ll just look at the evidence before putting pen to paper, evidence which overwhelmingly points to the fact that mental illness is highly discriminatory and that this, like many misnomers about mental health and the psychiatric system, point to public knowledge and policy that’s in urgent need of some sort of therapy.

Sadly, people seem to lose most, if not all, sense of critical ability when faced with such stories and debates – especially when far too many people get carried away with the death of a prominent figure – and it can be difficult to dispute anything, as such articles are often framed around ideas that dare not be questioned, sometimes in atmospheres which resist deviation, usually to an audience that probably couldn’t accept otherwise, not least in the heat of their moment.

I used to be a bit like that as a patient, comfortable in the nice and cozy system that, little did I know, was doing me more harm than good, totally convinced that I was doing far better than I would without it, fearful of any alternative. Care workers would convince me that they knew me, that I was nice and this and that when ‘compliant’ with treatment, while in reality I was so doped up and useless that I’d be talking like Michael Jackson one minute – head in the clouds, capable of nothing much – then contemptuous of myself for acting thus, not realising that, like with many things, this was a consequence of the treatment I was being subjected to. But, even as I was waking up to the realities of the system and its treatment, research I did in 2011 into social media and mental health would, in the long-run, turn out to be utterly worthless and misguided. Like most people, I’d accepted the dominant views about psychiatry and mental health without question and believed that as long as people with mental health diagnoses could communicate what I thought they needed to with people who needed it, stigma would be addressed and all would be well for mental health, its sufferers and society at large. How wrong could I have been.

I really started to realise how wrong when I came across academic papers – both positive and negative – about the care system itself. The positive papers often didn’t add up but the negative ones tended to fit in with a lot of my experiences as a mental health patient. In the end, I concluded, though not in my final paper, that the best the mental health community, with its current outlook, could hope for would be for individuals to improve the perception of themselves, but themselves alone. There could be no global improvement through improved dialogue for the community via social media or any other media – stigma would remain for the majority, regardless of the efforts made.

But my gradual shift in thinking didn’t end here. I started to read further, beginning with Richard Bentall’s ‘Doctoring the Mind’, an authoritative, convincing and devastating critique of the psychiatric system and how it works on individuals, calling for significant reform. Not only that, though, it also highlighted, through picking apart the misnomers about mental health, how misguided the public debate about it is. It became ever more obvious that the falsehoods which are commonly peddled of faulty genes and chemical imbalances unfairly straightjacket people into a system of thinking that blocks realistic chances of significant improvement by focusing on nature and the individual, dubious conclusions about genetics and brain chemistry, rather than on nurture and the environment, or what we learn and what we’re exposed to. This would lead me further into looking at popular and academic works on toxic relationships, the sociology of mental health, and theories about how our early years are so formative and influential on our later chances of being vulnerable to mental distress.

My experience of the British psychiatric system had begun in 2000. I’d already graduated from university and been on the Internet for quite a few years by then and my approach meant that my views about information and communication – my main interests – were quite well-developed. However, on first being detained on a mental health ward, it immediately felt like going back in time to an approach to human relationships, communication and the handling of information belonging more to feudalism. The patient was the subject, to be questioned and analysed (superficially and often mistakenly). There was a distinct and fixed hierarchy, ultimately based on prestige, with the patient disempowered at the bottom and, at the top, the psychiatrist, perceived by everyone, often including him or herself, to be all-knowing, even about things outside their speciality.

Medical records play a significant role in the psychiatric system and the approach to them can give a fascinating insight into how misguided psychiatry’s approach to relationships, communication and information can be. The patient has to apply – and often pay and always wait – to see them and, if they do, can often be left bewildered at the interpretation of their behaviour, an interpretation which can be bizarre to say the least. Third parties, like family members and other members of the public, can give information to the mental health team that can be detrimental to the patient and can also request that not only is this information withheld from the patient but that they ever even talked to the psychiatric team. The psychiatrist, in turn, can also withhold any information he or she wants to from the patient, if it’s thought the information may be damaging to the patient or if the patient’s knowledge of the information or the source of it may lead the source to be in any danger from the patient – a set of decisions that’s made in no small part on the information that’s already been often unchallengeable by the patient. There are few safeguards in these processes for the patient, aside from having to rely on the psychiatrists skills of verification, something which can’t be guaranteed and which is clearly not good enough when decisions can be made to administer chemicals to the patient which can transform their entire personality and even their environment.

Communication between the patient and the psychiatrist is often limited to effectively running off a checklist of symptoms in order to form a (highly disputable) diagnosis and, if thought necessary, to medicate. Again, this is often within the framework of information which has already been obtained via third-parties in a process with few safeguards for the individual, meaning that it’s often likely that the psychiatrist will merely rubber stamp what information’s already been given to them, regardless of what the patient says. Even if the patient’s to be effective, they’d have to guess who said what and, if the information’s unreliable, convince the psychiatrist of this, which is likely to elicit the diagnosis of paranoia (even if the patient is right, the psychiatrist can judge that the information given was given in the patient’s best interests, so, because the patient questioned that, this can also be diagnosed as paranoia). Understandably, then, whenever the patient’s questioned, most times there’s little opportunity for them to address potentially faulty information, the psychiatrist calls all the shots and the treatment is framed in a way that empowers everyone but the patient, a process which can have the knock-on effect of not only subjecting the patient to dubious treatments, but also to alienation and frustration that may be seen to require further ‘interventions’.

It can easily boil down to a situation where you can have treatment imposed because some Tom, Dick or Harry’s said such and such. A problem with this is that the system tends to assume without question that third-parties are entirely innocent, having no malicious or dubious motives for providing the information they give, something I know first-hand to be false. Believe it or not, there’s more than enough people who’ll willingly use a mental health diagnosis against someone in a dispute, even for quite petty reasons and, when you consider that many people in the system come from families with emotional difficulties where such behaviour could easily be used as a form of subjugation, you have the potential for the system to compound abuse within families and other social groupings.

Alongside all this is a logic that’s often breathtaking to witness in person. Down the years, I’ve come to call it the ‘Crucible logic of psychiatry’, as it echoes the bizarre use of faulty logic, bad evidence and fanciful conclusions in Arthur Miller’s play. For example, if you disagree with the processes or decisions involved in your ‘treatment’, you’re argumentative, lack insight and the whole psychiatric team can turn against you, viewing you as hostile to such an extent that the whole institution reflects this view, characterising it, as psychiatry tends to characterise things, so that it appears intrinsic to the personality of the patient, without context, as if it came from thin air.  If you disagree with or refuse treatment, you’re also not ‘compliant’ and can be forced to ‘accept’ it, after which, the whole psychiatric team can instantly be your best friend, satisfied that you’re now instantly healthier because you’ve accepted the ‘right’ course of action.

The whole framework is loaded to ensure that the psychiatrist’s prestige, logic and system wins the day, regardless of how bizarre, unrealistic and inaccurate it may be. You could even point to a wealth of scientific evidence against a decision or false proposition, but it’d be to no avail. The system’s ultimately about power and prestige, rather than solid science, so the psychiatrist’s decision is final. If the science says an aspect of psychiatry is faulty it’s not, because the psychiatrist says so and that’s that. The usual outcome, often encouraged by care workers, is that patients just take their meds to get the psychiatrists off their back, because there’s really no other option. Psychiatric wards are, sadly, full of excessively deferential people who’ve been made that way by a lifetime of hardships, often not least disempowerment, so the situation doesn’t always reach that stage, but sometimes it does and, although there’s tribunals which are supposed to be a safeguard against the excesses of the system, and though these sometimes work, a determined psychiatrist can deliberately mislead them, with the full collusion of the care team, despite the fact that this is supposed to be illegal – again, something I’ve witnessed first-hand. But who’s going to argue? The patient? The risk you take with such psychiatrists is that you then face a situation where, should the system haul you in again, you could be detained in a worse hospital, with even fewer safeguards. Better to take ‘your’ meds, drop all objections and be on your way, however wrong and detrimental to reform you know this process to be.

From here, then, medication’s usually administered, medication with no track record of substantial long-term success, as it merely dopes people up to suppress them and fails to address the environmental issues and strategies to deal with them that led to the problems in the first place. A realistic approach to all this can lead people to adopting better thinking and coping strategies that are more realistic and stand a better chance of success because you’re dealing with the real world, not the suppression of it which, with meds, always risks being maintained or, at best, submerged for a time. Many people who do figure out that something isn’t quite right with the whole thing come off meds but lack the understanding to address the real issues. It’s not unusual that they’ve become so persuaded deep down by the dominant view of mental health that they can soon find themselves faced with the unresolved issues yet again (which can become ever worse the more the system’s seen as a convenient way by some people to deal with interpersonal issues) and then in the system once more, bottom of the heap, defeated and demoralised.

So, my experience of the system, as I’ve written, began in 2000. Despite having to be released because the original team who came to detain me had made too many ‘mistakes’ and didn’t want this and other more important inconsistencies exposed to a tribunal at the time, I was eventually, and willingly, medicated on the basis of third-party statements I knew to be hogwash, but with a concerted effort to impose them. When I say ‘willingly’, though, it was because I thought that if I took medication, the approach to information and communication would change, but it didn’t. It remained archaic. I was put on quite a high dose of anti-psychotics (Olanzapine, at that time the latest ‘wonder’ treatment), which doped me up, made me obese, depressed and with very bizarre thoughts which, along with the evident pointlessness of the approach to what had gone on plus the fact that I was not in sufficient control of my own thinking, meant that me withdrawing from them was almost inevitable.

In retrospect, had the approach changed and I’d not been given medication, the situation could have been resolved quickly and I’d not have needed the care system again. However, the psychiatrist I assigned to at the time had made up his mind that there was information that I couldn’t have access to because he (mistakenly) thought I couldn’t handle it.  Meds followed. Then my withdrawal gave me more complications than even being on the meds had given. In the years to come, I went so far and so deep at times that it’s a wonder to me even now that I ever pulled out of most of it. The first time was the worst, though. So extreme were the thoughts and ideas I had that the shock of it all took about 7 years for me to even begin to recover from properly. That shock, along with consequentially repeated admissions, treatments and ‘non-compliance’, would send me on a cycle as a decontextualised ‘revolving-door patient’ that pushed me further into the transformation of my personality, mind and environment that the initial shock had brought about.

It was only through properly understanding the context of mental health, my personal history and my environment that I started to regain anything like what I’d lost. It’s only been through realising the faults of psychiatry, those in my environment and my adaptation, plus potential solutions to it all that I’ve regained anything like my former way of thinking, being and relating to the world. It’s entirely at odds with psychiatry’s current approach, but I’m cool with that because, however popular mainstream ideas about psychiatry are, they’re misguided and there’s a bulk of solid evidence to back that up. This way is realistic because it’s based on how things are which has led to an approach of partial acceptance of some things I can’t change, along with strategies to address how other things can and need to be. It never did need medication, it just needed an imaginative and intelligent approach that psychiatry just didn’t do. I knew there was a better, more modern way back in 2000. I do even more so, now.

My situation now is that I have a diagnosis – one of the big ones – that I’m just not buying, not only because I don’t believe in the diagnostic process, but it doesn’t even add up according to psychiatry’s own standards, so mangled has the process been. My psychiatrist once said to me ‘You don’t believe you’ve got a mental illness.’ I kept quiet, but when I was younger I’d have just told him the truth: ‘I don’t believe in mental illness as you see it’. Easy. I’m still on meds, but mood stabilizers, with a view to coming off them eventually, even though it’s tough once those chemicals are in your system and despite the fact that I don’t know how I’m going to get my psychiatrist to buy that one. He’s not a bad fella and I’m trying to work with him on a strategy that should work, even while he abides by one that never has. To be fair, he does let me try to do things my way, but it’s ultimately an empty gesture: he’s insistent that there’s only one way (his) and, even though he never says much of consequence to my face, I’ve become something of an expert in finding out what he thinks from the very third parties he uses to try to find things out about me, the knowledge of which suggests he’s humouring me until it all goes wrong and he can implement his strategy, despite a long record of failure. His biggest problem with me is that his way is based on medical records that are about as accurate as my CV needs to be and, as should be obvious by now, there’s nothing whatsoever I can do about that. He’s locked in with that Crucible logic and he isn’t getting out, not without significant reform. Meanwhile, when I’m not in the middle of another reduction in ‘my’ meds – it’s a drawn out, occasionally bumpy, but often steady ride – life ticks along quite nicely, as it should.

The psychiatric system’s a mess, only some of which I’ve pointed to here. Not all psychiatrists are the same and some are good at what they do, but the system itself is wrong, so even the good ones can’t do much. It’s the same with many of the treatments on offer and the general ideas about mental health, adaptive strategies and the environment. That most of us tolerate this mess is because most of us know little better. Often we’ve been persuaded by the media, with false information and bad thinking, not least of horror stories which seem to have no alternative. But all this isn’t only the media’s fault. Most of us are at it, even most sufferers. The very system of psychiatry, as it tends to work, is a stigmatising system itself, with problematic and detrimental ideas about normality and difference that are rooted deep in our culture, now. The tragedy here, then, is that most people within it are fighting to improve and spread the understanding of ideas that will only ever result in discrimination, but they’ll just keep doing it until they start learning how and why most of them are misguided, while those who do know better – those who are speaking and writing about the realities of all this – need to improve their communication of the shortfalls of and alternatives to our approaches to mental health with the public, the media and policy makers.

What I’ve seen in my years of being a patient and what I’ve learned while a student and beyond is that our ideas towards mental distress, including diagnoses, incarceration and medication are often doing more harm than good. The fact that so many people in the system buy into it and its limited and mistaken definitions of success, to me, points to nothing more than an indictment of how far off the mark public knowledge is about these issues. A problem with that is that many people, especially sufferers, cling onto these ideas, at times vociferously, despite the conflicting evidence that’s out there if only they’d look. A solution for them is to do this: to actively learn more about the context of mental health as it is, to see how the role of the environment and their strategies towards it have affected their lives, and where they really fit in that environment. This is a good, first step to fighting for something better for the individual and the wider society, a part of which is the discrimination that’s all too real in the lives of the majority of mentally distressed people, whether they can see it yet or not.

Getting to the truth about Gaza

At the onset of the 2008/9 Gaza ‘war’, I was sat watching the BBC News Channel’s coverage.  I’d never questioned the dominant view in the UK that Israel was rarely, if ever, in the wrong.  I’d studied the Holocaust at university, I’d sat and listened to survivors of the concentration camps, I’d come to understand what it all meant and I associated Israel and Israelis with Jewish people, homogenising all and thinking that here were people who’d have a deep understanding and appreciation of human rights, international law and what can happen when people act without limits.  The Israelis, by association, were undoubtedly the good guys.

Even though I’d disagreed at times with BBC coverage on numerous things, this had still been within the realms of disagreement over superficial matters.  However, the writing was always on the wall for this approach.  Like everyone, I’m linked to events that influence my world view.  My dad came to the UK from Poland after WWII, in which his family was killed, and my mom came here after the fall of the British Empire in India so, with an insight into the long-term effects of extremism, difference and occupation, I think I’m less inclined to buy into anti-semitism or the Islamophobia that exists in my part of the UK, though I’m still not immune.

A friend of mine, who’d once lived on a Kibbutz, had told me: ‘Israel never starts anything, but it knows how to finish things.’  I had no reason to doubt this.  Here, though, watching the footage of what was happening in Gaza, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing – unarmed people cowering and running around in a panic, in an area where barely anything was visible, consumed as it was with thick, dark grey dust, an aftermath of intense bombing – while the BBC, as it can be at times when a story first hits, was caught off guard with its version of events not tallying with what I could see for myself.

In the days that followed, the BBC got its act together and tried to both cover events and justify how it was doing it, with the common refrain of ‘both sides’ being used to somehow make what was turning out to be a massacre by the Israelis on the Palestinians a reason for excusing the Israelis’ behaviour.  It wasn’t and the BBC’s attempts to make it seem so made them look worse as they kept repeating ‘both sides’ as if the viewers needed spoon-feeding a line that only the high and mighty BBC could possibly know.  The rest of us were just ignorant of the facts.

Back then, social media was different.  Even though there’s more effective networks now, those 5 years ago were more open because we were, this being something relatively new to us.  I was forging connections with people I’d have no access to otherwise and we were talking about this abomination and the way the mainstream media was covering it without an intermediary like the BBC putting its spin on things.

For me, this was the turning point on the Israel/Palestine question that many people are reaching 5 years later.  Suddenly, what we’ve been told in the UK by our institutions about Israel and Palestine is shown to have been a decades-long mass-deception and many people are trying to join the dots and make sense of how and why this could have happened.

Since 2008/9, quite a lot’s changed.  Social media’s matured somewhat and, to be fair to the BBC, its output has improved this time, even though the many protestors who’ve marched to numerous BBC headquarters are right in that its coverage is still often severely wanting.  But, what I’ve learned this time over Gaza has made more sense of what’s going on and, despite the horrors of the story itself, there is room for optimism at least for our institutions and for those of us who use social media to discover and discuss such things.

This time, I’ve learned that the picture at the BBC isn’t all cut and dried.  For example, the BBC comes under intense pressure from an Israel lobby in the UK that’s also powerful in the UK Parliament.  Furthermore, it’s been reported that there’s internal politics at the Corporation, with infighting over how much of the Palestinian side should be represented.  Better late than never, I suppose, even though it’s questionable in humanitarian terms whether ‘sides’ are relevant.

It seems unfair to concentrate on the BBC, though, and it’s not only the power and pressure the Israel lobby has and tries to exert that I’ve learned about.  What else I didn’t know before was the sheer amount of propaganda the Israelis use – of hasbara, of their use of propaganda even against and within the United Nations, as if they’re trying to dupe the world, an amount of deception that makes it difficult to believe anything the Israelis say, once the cat’s out of the bag.  I also didn’t know that they’d got a PR specialist to work on how to persuade and justify their actions in minute detail to a Western audience, as if they hadn’t misled us enough.

With the constant stream of graphic images and emotionally-charged testimony coming over the social media networks often contradicting official sources and mainstream media outlets, I think we’ve reached a stage where the news media, along with other institutions, have to adapt.  There are signs that that may already be happening: the bulk of the news media seems to have ditched some of the pro-Israel bias and the official line of the main UK political parties has shifted recently, to start reflecting the realities of long-term Palestinian subjugation, rather than echoing the spin of Israeli propaganda, even though that clearly retains an influence.

For all the criticism of the mainstream news media, though, it works both ways.  All of us using social media should at least wish to become better at what we do: what we debate and how we debate it.  Just as the Israelis disseminate propaganda, others are often guilty, however unwittingly, of repeating misinformation, something which does nothing for social media or the people who want to use it to get to the heart of the matter.

Using Twitter primarily as the launchpad for other debates on Gaza, it’s become obvious to me that, whatever the information – whether from supporters of the Israelis or Palestinians – it’s important to wait and verify information, especially when its crucial.  Ways to do this include searching and scanning Twitter (especially reliable sources) first.  Usually, in time, someone crops up with something to add which either confirms or debunks the propaganda claims originally made, after which substantiating evidence is often quick to follow.

A classic example is Israel’s use of repetition to align Hamas with the use of ‘human shields’ though, to date, there’s been no concrete and reliable evidence of this taking place (Israeli’s definition of a ‘human shield’ is so all-encompassing that it’s beyond credulity). The conclusion I reached is that it’s a propaganda tactic designed to deflect criticism of Israeli atrocities and apportion blame to Hamas. Another example is the alleged use of UN facilities to store Hamas weapons.  Again, there’s no evidence of this, even though it’s often repeated in the news media. The Israeli’s propaganda tactic, though, is the same.  Weapons have been stored in facilities that were used by the UN, but this was after the UN had abandoned the buildings, according to the UN’s John Ging, a fact that disproves the allegation.

Other ways to check on information are to just use your common sense.  You wouldn’t buy Coke from a medicine man on a wagon, even though people once did.  Likewise, you shouldn’t buy any information from anyone just because they say it’s so.  Our parents and grandparents grew up in a time when they trusted official accounts more than we do now.  That’s healthy for us, but it still means that we’ve got to check our facts and be open to changing our minds, while, with this story, being watchful of things like anti-semitism and Islamophobia.  Be prepared to read through discussions, cross-referencing claims, while remaining critical.  There are methods for checking out information on the internet – some old journalistic methods and some of the new ones of citizen journalism – and there’s some great resources around that should help, a few of which I’ll link to at the end of this post.

The Gaza story’s a complex one only, really, because it’s been made so.  That was obvious to me in 2008/9 and it’s even more so now, as I’ve learned more.  Had our institutions given us a more reliable account of what the situation’s been, we wouldn’t be in the situation we’re in, we’d have better debates and we’d have a chance of adopting official policies that stand a chance of working.  But here we are and, as well as being wary of the emotions it stirs up and the prejudices it may reveal to ourselves, a lot of good might actually come out of the situation around Gaza – in our institutions and ourselves – so long as we’re open to that.

Remembering my friend’s comments about Israel never starting anything, I now know it’s clearly propaganda, the kind of propaganda every country lives by to a certain extent, especially when they’re involved in conflict. Even Israel’s assertions that this latest massacre was started by Hamas kidnapping three Israeli teenagers and killing them has turned out to be false, as has been admitted by Israelis themselves.  And, like most things in this story, it took time for that real story to emerge.  But it did, and that’s why social media and even the mainstream media can be so useful – especially so, if we learn to improve our skills with them and use them better.

All this may also be a turning point as many more people address the ignorance that may have served them well in the past and instead start to join the dots to, while not approve of extremism, understand more why it takes place, with potential benefits for public debate and policy.  What we shouldn’t allow, though, is for a lobbying group, such as that of the Israelis, to attain such power again so that its special interests override what should be a government’s primary duty to informing its own citizens properly.

As for Jewish people, they’ve had a terrible history for centuries.  This may go some way to explaining the extremism that exists amongst the Israeli population and in its current Government.  But that’s no excuse for committing atrocities and working to subvert international law, leaving the way open to do it all again at will. If anything, their history means that Israel should accept the judgement of international law in a way that could – just maybe – ensure extremism in Israel and elsewhere loses much of its constituency.


‘How to detect bias in news media’

‘War, propaganda and the media’

‘How to: verify content from social media’

‘Verification Handbook’ – Chapter 10 of the free PDF has a good list of verification resources.

‘Your guide to Citizen Journalism’

‘Is there credibility in Citizen Journalism?’