THE SYSTEM

FIRST PUBLISHED IN ‘ON THE LEVEL’ – BY BIPOLAR SCOTLAND

When I went for my last depot I was in a good mood.

The nurse who called me from the waiting room smiled when she saw me, as did the other nurse who was at her computer. Even though it was only a few days after my CTO had been renewed we all seemed pleased with life. The jag hurt, it stung, which is not normal. My nurse noticed, was mortified and apologised and I said there was no need to; that usually I hardly felt it.

The other nurse started asking her usual questions and when she got to the one about whether my voices were bothering me, I said they were fine. She always forgets I don’t hear voices and this day I couldn’t be bothered to correct her and just smiled inside. They told me I would be taking oral medication when I am in Poland in a couple of weeks and I agreed that I would pick up the prescription but I am not sure if I will.

As the questions carried on, I got bored and started staring at the blinking light on the ceiling which prompted one of the nurses to ask what I was looking at. I found it funny and told her off for being paranoid for believing that I was hallucinating and they laughed. I left in a really good mood. They were smiling too.

Often, I am not so happy when I go to the clinic; it feels sparse and cold and routine. It reminds me that I am a person who can get lost in the system or just plain old processed as if I have no feelings.

I know we need a system; there are thousands of us that need our jags and our appointments and our therapies and medication and without a system we would fall into chaos. Many more people like me would be living on the streets in poverty in the way we used to before the mental health system started. But despite that, systems need organised and organisation can dehumanise and process and make us other and inferior. It can make us feel defective. It can make us angry and alien and unco-operative.

I hear that by far the best indicator or the efficacy of talking therapies is the relationship we have with our therapists and while I am not sure what I mean by healing I worry that systems can create an absence of the healing some of us crave.

To me healing is the presence of something very human in our care. It may come with medication but it may also come with connection and warmth and the love our therapists have for people like us. While boundaries may be needed in systems they can also serve to alienate when hugs are sackable offences and individuality becomes a threat to policy and process.

I do not know if ever I have experienced healing and maybe healing is a sort of fey alternative therapies concept that I should doubt but I have been in the presence of staff who give something indefinable which has made a huge difference in my life.

I just spent about 9 months getting CBT for psychosis. If I am honest it was painful and exhausting and already I can’t remember more than one of the exercises I was taught. All that remains is the pebble I now keep in my pocket to sooth me and the memory of the presence of the psychologist on the screen who, to my great surprise, seemed to hold me and understand me. Someone who, despite just being an image on my computer; seemed like a healing presence.

I have found that with some nurses in my life; they stand out in my memory: calm present, warm, positive. They were unfazed and didn’t judge. I knew they wanted the best for me. That helped profoundly.

There was once a physiotherapy assistant in a hospital who I thought did more good than nearly all the other staff. She breathed positivity while understanding and knowing first hand all about the depths that can envelop us. Her presence was healing, despite a system that did not easily accommodate her.

How many of us are part of the mental health system in Scotland? Maybe a half a million?

We need organisation, process, policy to keep us coping, to keep us alive but we need a system that allows the chaos and joy of being human to shine through; that allows us all to laugh at the awfulness of it and yet helps us connect. It reminds me of my, maybe naïve belief, that love is key to any mental health service but how can you safely and wonderfully make love integral to a system?

I really don’t know but sometimes it has to shine through.

To learn more about my life and life with a mental illness do read my memoirs START and Blackbird Singing. Available from Geilston Press. Best got from Amazon at the moment.