Week Four in the Mad House

            So I have survived another week in the mad house, making my time there a total of four weeks. Community meeting on Monday morning saw my admission of self-harming the night before and a futile discussion about the person who didn’t turn up on the Thursday before. Community meeting followed by small group which was much the same as always; we sat in a group and talked about things and most of it was dominated by the same person. By lunch little of note had happened.

            After lunch was art therapy, which I have already established as my worst session, but I had decided to try and have a at it. The session always starts with everyone discussing the work from the previous week. People commented on mine and asked me how I felt about it. I said that it had been stubborn and I had been trying to prove a point but that I would, in future, try harder in the art sessions. Somehow, what was supposed to be a positive thing turned into yet another argument and, though I had intended to try not to rise to it and meet aggression with aggression, I admit that I reverted to my old habit of fighting back. I was already angry and upset with myself about the weekend and cutting myself the night before and so, when people started having a go at me, I got upset. At some point the argument abated and we got on with the art bit of the session. I drew a TARDIS. For the most part my reason behind that choice was because I like Doctor Who but the more I thought about it I realised that the TARDIS does have some symbolic meaning; it is bigger on the inside which feels like me because I do have a lot to give but it’s all on the inside and I don’t always show it on the outside. Also, the chameleon filter on the TARDIS is broken, which means it is always stuck as a police telephone box, and sometimes it feels like I am permanently stuck as this fat, pathetic, depressed person but I don’t want to be.

            After the time for doing art was up we had to sit and discuss what we had done. Unfortunately this discussion just resulted in further arguments because it appears that some community members think that there is a divide between the two small groups. One person in particular went as far as to say that they thought that some of the members in the small group that I’m in seem to get more attention because they cry or get aggressive or storm out. This upset a few people and when it was nearly time for the session to end, though the therapist hadn’t actually called time, the person who had said that some people were just attention seeking walked out. Half a minute later the therapist called time and the rest of the community left the room but by that time the person who had stormed out had already gone home. I left to go home feeling absolutely rubbish because I felt like all the arguments had been my fault and that everyone thought I was just an attention seeker. I know that isn’t completely true and that it was just my paranoia making me think that but I do often think that I am just an attention seeker and I felt really persecuted by the guy.

            On the Tuesday morning I really didn’t want to go back to the mad house. I felt paranoid and anxious and didn’t want to be around people, but I made myself go and face everyone. The guy who had stormed out of art the day before, however, did not turn up which only served to make me feel even worse. In the community meeting I apologised to the rest of the community for my behaviour in art but I had really wanted to apologise to the guy who had stormed out, so I was annoyed that he hadn’t turned up and I thought that he was just being childish. Large group therapy was difficult. The general atmosphere was so tense and, although no arguments broke out, it was a horrible place to be and was really anxiety-provoking. Everyone was really glad to get out of the room when time was called and when it came to TBC I was pleased that it was housekeeping because it meant that I could do something active rather than just sitting around talking.

            That afternoon was awareness which just makes me think of PSHE in school or something. The session started, as usual, with a couple of warm-up games then it was decided that the main topic would be a role-play around the theme of assertiveness, especially when dealing with receptionists at doctors’ surgeries. We had already done something about assertiveness recently but I didn’t complain because it meant that I could just sit back and watch and it was far removed from the frustrations and the conflicts of the day before. Awareness went rather quickly and again I was glad to get away at the end of the day and go home.

            On Wednesday morning I didn’t want to go in again, but again I made myself. The guy who walked out on Monday afternoon was back but community meeting did little to deal with the fact that he had walked out and then not even come in on the Tuesday. He said that he wanted to leave the programme completely and that he had only come in to talk about leaving because people had asked him to. This made me feel even worse and my brain kept telling me that it was all my fault – I really need to sort out this paranoia because it’s driving me insane. I had wanted to bring it in to small group but struggled to find an appropriate gap in the flow of the conversation. Again I got frustrated because one person just seemed to dominate the entire session – like always – and another person just sulked and said he wanted the group to vote him out because he didn’t want to be there anymore, which I just thought was him being childish and wanting to know that people cared and wanted him to be there. To be honest I’m getting rather sick of middle-aged men having temper tantrums – they’re just acting like two-year-olds.

            After lunch was working party. I had thought that we had reached some kind of conclusion on the subject we had been discussing the week before but apparently other people thought otherwise. The conversation started to turn into another argument and I was getting extremely frustrated with people just talking over each other. By the end of it I just wanted to leave the mad house and never go back. I probably sound like such a drama queen but I am getting really pissed off with the place and sometimes I just can’t take all the stress and the arguing. After working party it was PAG which actually went quite well because there was a potential new member there so the session was pretty much spent doing her assessment so I didn’t have to do or say anything. After group was also pretty uneventful. Everyone was tired and just wanted to leave so when time was called everyone was glad to get out of there – especially me.

            On Thursday morning after community meeting it was reviews. That day was the review of the guy who had walked out of art on the Monday. People had managed to persuade him to stay for his review and I was actually glad that he was there because, though he had acted childishly, so had I and I wanted to apologise to him for shouting at him on Monday. By the end of the reviews I felt a little better because I had been able to apologise and the guy had come up to me and said thanks for doing so. Check-out and lunch were good and, before I knew it, it was the end of my fourth week in the mad house.

            I am planning on going in tomorrow, so I should probably go and get some sleep now. But before I do; a couple of prayer requests. Prayers for the week ahead would be greatly appreciated and please pray about my current struggles with paranoia; it’s really bothering me. Also, please pray that I don’t get so frustrated and annoyed with people so quickly and that I can learn to manage those feelings better. Last week was a real lesson for me in patience and in not fighting back when people push me – I still have to work on those things – but I am getting there slowly and maybe, with the help of the therapy programme, I’ll start to get better.

Thanks and God bless

KV

An Exercise in Pointlessness

            So today began the third week in the mad house and this afternoon we had art therapy. As I mentioned in my post ‘Week Two in the Mad House’, I really struggle with the art therapy sessions as I just don’t get it. Today, at the beginning of the session people started to have a go at me about the fact that I prefer to write rather than draw or paint. Well, perhaps saying they were ‘having a go at me’ is a little immature, but I felt persecuted by everyone in the room. I know that the point of therapy is to make the things that are uncomfortable, comfortable, but people pressing me just makes the urge to fight or run away, even stronger. I also felt like people weren’t listening to what I was saying. Everyone kept telling me to just do whatever came to mind; to follow my instinct, but I do that through writing. Art doesn’t come naturally to me, words do, and so telling me to do what comes naturally, inspires me to write. I express myself through words; this blog is evidence of that. But no one would listen when I tried to explain this.

            Because of this I was frustrated and angry, so when it came to actually making the art I admit that I was stubborn and rebelled slightly. I spent ages looking through the art supplies for inspiration and just got more and more annoyed, but I was convinced that the therapist was making note of my stubbornness and so eventually decided to do something random just to prove how pointless it was. Pointless making me do something without feeling or meaning. I found a picture in a tattoo magazine of a tattoo of an eye. The image meant nothing to me; it was just the nicest one I saw. I cut it out and stuck it to a piece of card and then just left it at that. I called it ‘An Exercise in Pointlessness’ because I felt no connection to it; it held no meaning for me; it just felt completely pointless. After that there was still loads of time left and I still felt angry and frustrated, so I grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and scrawled in large letters, taking up the entire A3 page, the question ‘WHY?’ I have felt so disillusioned with a number of things recently, the therapy being just one of them. By writing ‘why’ I was not only questioning being made to do something I didn’t want to, and thought was pointless, but I was voicing my doubts about a number of things. One might argue that by doing this I found purpose in the art therapy but I did so by using words; or at least a word. I didn’t use paint. I didn’t draw something. I wrote something. Which just proves my point that words can be ‘art’ and you don’t have to make an image.

            By this point the anger had receded slightly but I still felt like being stubborn and so, as there was still some time left, I grabbed another piece of paper. This time I just signed it and then left the rest of the page blank. My point in doing this was to express exactly what came to my mind when I entered art therapy on a Monday afternoon, NOTHING. Finally the time for creating the art was up and we had to sit and give feedback on each other’s work. Obviously people commented on mine, saying that they found it provocative and aggressive. I said that I felt apathetic towards my pieces of work but that may have been a slight lie. I did feel little towards the first piece that I did, but I was being stubborn when I said that they all meant nothing. Truthfully, I felt, and still feel, angry and upset and frustrated about the whole art therapy session and about the work I created.

            I’m still annoyed because, however childish it may be, I feel like I gave in to the pressure to create art. I was stubborn and deliberately made a point, through my work, of trying to rebel, by still using words and refusing to create something; leaving a blank page. But I gave in and produced something. And now I find myself questioning my work and the purpose and meaning that I placed upon it. I also find myself wondering why it is, exactly, that I dislike art so much. If therapy is going to make me think this much, I’m not sure I like it – and now I really am being stubborn and childish.

            I will write again soon I am sure.

God bless

KV

Week Two in the Mad House

            So I did actually go back to the group therapy thing this week. It was a difficult decision to make myself return because I really didn’t want to. But I forced myself to persevere. I realised that not to go back would only serve to spite myself. Last week, when those two community members walked out, I became upset because of my own history of storming out of therapy. I realised that if I were to not return, especially after so short a period of time, I would just be doing what I always do when I don’t like something or it becomes too difficult – running away. And if I really want to recover, I have to overcome my fears and my constant urge to run away from them.

            So as I said, I went back. Monday morning was rather uneventful but art therapy that afternoon was a struggle. I have issues with art. I am not artistic person and sometimes I just don’t get it, but my biggest problem is what is counted as ‘art’ and what is not. I work in words. I love words and I see them as art but, in the art therapy sessions, we are expected to produce an image of some kind; a drawing, a painting or even a sculpture. But not words. Or at least not just words. Both of my pieces of work that I have done in the art therapy sessions so far have been composed of just words. My first piece was just a page full of random quotes that popped into my head – I didn’t give a great deal of thought to it, I just can’t do art. But my second piece was more considered. I spent what felt like an eternity staring blankly at all of the art supplies trying to think of something to draw or paint. It was too stressful though, so I just ended up grabbing a piece of paper and a pencil and wrote a great long rant about ‘art’ and what it really is; what really constitutes ‘art’.

            Obviously people have already noticed my aversion to art and the fact that my two pieces of work thus far have been pieces of writing, and there has been discussion about it over the course of the week. On Tuesday, because another member of the community was leaving this week, there was a review of his artwork from his year on the programme. I looked at his art with everyone else but I felt a little awkward doing so as the art from the programme is a very intimate, personal thing and I had only known the guy a short while. At the review, two of the therapists asked me what I felt about the artwork and if any piece in particular affected me. Whilst talking to one of these two therapists about art and my difficulties with it, he said he found it interesting that I do not much like art because people are usually very visual. He also asked about my preoccupation with words and writing, and he made me think about why I love words so much and why I don’t like art very much. It was a difficult conversation and I still haven’t quite worked out the answers to the questions it raised.

            On Tuesday afternoon we had a session called awareness. It’s difficult to explain exactly what ‘awareness’ is about. This week we did something known as ‘empty chair’. ‘Empty chair’ is an exercise in direct communication. People took turns to sit in front of other members of the community and say something to them directly, without receiving a response, about something that has been bothering them. The subjects of the direct communications were not always grievances, but the point of the exercise was to help people with issues regarding talking to people directly, especially about difficult subjects. It also helps people listen to and accept confrontation without responding directly and immediately. I felt very uncomfortable during the session as I really struggle with confrontation. I also have problems with paranoia and rejection which mean I worry about what people think of me. This made me really anxious during the ‘empty chair’ exercise as I was terrified of the thought that someone would say something horrible to me and that they didn’t like me. No one did say anything horrible to me. In fact, the one person who did say anything to me, was very kind and said that I had done very well in the therapy so far and that I fit into the group easily. I was very grateful for what she said and she had been really encouraging. I’m still terrified that someone will say that they hate me, and I hate the thought of having to do the ‘empty chair’ exercise again, but I guess that therapy is about dealing with difficult things and the things we don’t like and are scared of.

            Wednesday mornings we have small group therapy which is when the community splits into two groups and then sit around and discuss issues within each group. In my group the discussion got around to the topic of relationships which is a difficult subject for many people, including me. During the discussion, a few people mentioned that they had put on weight almost in attempts to make themselves unattractive to people because they couldn’t deal with relationships or even attention from prospective partners. This raised an issue for me. I decided a few years ago that I no longer wanted to engage in casual relationships as I want to wait for my husband, which is very important to me, especially given my faith. I have also since realised that God wants me to remain single in order to concentrate on my recovery, and to truly find my identity in Him before growing into an identity in a relationship with someone. Around the same time as I made the decision to be single, I started to put on a lot of weight. I had believed that my weight-gain was due to the fact that I have always had problems with my weight and it has always fluctuated, a lot. I had never thought that perhaps my weight-gain was related to my decision to enter singleness but, during the discussion in small group therapy, I began to wonder if perhaps the two were actually linked. I’m still not certain of a connection, but it has made me wonder and start to examine more closely the reasons behind my current weight problem, and even my persistent issues with my weight.

            Thursday mornings consist of reviews in which two community members talk about their therapy and their goals, and receive feedback from the rest of the community and the therapists. The reviews occur for each community member once every six to eight weeks, so I will not have my first one for another few weeks yet (the thought of which terrifies me). Obviously, due to confidentiality issues, I cannot write about what is said in the reviews of other community members. After the reviews, there is check-out which involves each community member talking about how the week was for them and what they would be doing over the weekend. When it was my turn to talk about my plans for the weekend, someone suggested that I take some time to plan what I would do in art therapy the next Monday, as it had been noticed that my last two pieces had been writing. This brought laughs, especially from the therapist who had been asking me about my aversion to art on the Tuesday. I admit I pulled a face, partly because I had been caught out and partly because I really don’t like art.

            This week has brought up a lot of issues for me which I told the community I would bring into the group next week – including my dislike of art. Another issue that arose this week came from the discussion on Wednesday about relationships. I had mentioned God when talking about my decisions with regards to relationships and had explained that my faith had a lot of bearing upon my relationship choices. Everyone in the community is aware of my faith but the talk of it, especially with regards to relationships, brought up issues within the group especially for a couple of the community members who are gay. I think that these issues need exploring further and not just for the benefit of those with objections to my faith, but also because I took issue with some of the things that were said in response to my beliefs.

            I guess this suggests that I will be returning next week. I still have the same doubts about this therapy as I did before, and I still want to just run away and not go back, but I know that I need to persevere. I am already feeling some benefit from the programme, and I know that any further benefit will take time and hard work, so I will go back. And I will continue to do so for as long as it is right for me to do so. I know that this is what God wants for me and so I need to trust in that and in Him; which is a rather difficult thing for me to do.

            Prayer for the therapy and for the things it raises would be greatly appreciated and I will update again next week.

Thanks and God bless

KV