Making Sense of Madness from the Inside

[spiritual_emergency]

This personal account just came to me today. I enjoyed it immensely and found much there that resonated with my own experience. I've included only excerpts. To read the full story, click on the link at the end of the excerpts.

Making Sense

... Madness has been described again and again by people who have never experienced it. The mad person’s definition of madness has never made it into the dictionary or into conversation, media stories, literature or mental health discourse.

Our version of madness can even elude us. We lack a validating language to make meaning from it. Our madness stands outside in the dark, knocking on the door to meaning, struggling to get in. My own stories of my madness struggled to take shape while other people’s stories of it took instant inspiration from the dictionary, diagnostic manuals and a wider culture that completely shunned it.

Most of the stories of those who look on, seeing only snatches of madness, portray it as all bad. My story of my madness though, is fuller than the stories of those who looked on. As well as being the most intricate story, it is the only unbroken one, the only story that had a witness present from start to finish and every moment in between. That witness was me.

Existential Crisis

The first time I go mad I lie in bed for days with my door shut and the curtains drawn. I struggle to put a thought or a sentence together. I can’t talk. I can barely move. My chest burns with a dark smouldering pain, and I rasp with weak, shallow breathing.

This is the completion of my crumbling into a profound nothingness.

I discover with horror that I live in a black box. I have hidden the blackness all my life in the naïve hope that there is a grand purpose to everything. In my folly I have pasted over the walls of the black box with pleasing and colourful decorations – the false window frames with a painted in view of a grand universe, the fake pictures of a life worth living, the pretend painted-in door that leads into a promising future.

Now all the decorations have been torn down, showing the bare black boards behind them. All I have known and valued in my life is a sham – my belief in goodness, my hopes for the future, my affection for family and friends, my curiosity, my laughter. I have lied to myself and the people and the culture around me have lied with me. There is no reason to live, I say over and over to myself. ...

The Lost Self

I have lost my self. What is my name? I have no name. All I am is shape and weight, rapid shallow breathing, and a black space inside my head.

Later, I write that a sense of self is not an emotion or a thought or a sensation. My self is the solid core of my being. It is like an immutable dark sun that sits at the centre of things while all my fickle feelings, thoughts and sensations orbit around it. But my self goes into hiding during madness. Sometimes it slides into the great nothingness like a setting sun. Sometimes it gets trampled in the dust by all the whizzing in my body and mind.

But my self always comes back as strong as ever after my madness subsides; it reoccupies the core of me with its warm dark aura. Madness does not just extinguish me, it also renews me.

I discover this one day when I watch my flatmate weed and dig the vegetable garden. It had been lying fallow for a year. She came up to me and said ‘The soil’s good, it’s had a break’. Then I realise my madness is like the soil lying fallow. Sometimes my madness strips me bare but it is also the beginning of renewal; every time I emerge from it I feel fresh and ready to start again.

The Heroic Journey

As a child I read Ladybird books about Boadicea and Joan of Arc, brave kings and fearless missionaries. I watched ‘The Lone Ranger’ and ‘Flash Gordon’ on television and longed to be a hero like them – facing adversity, conquering evil and saving the innocent. In my mind I made up stories about saving my class mates from the burning school, running through the flames, dragging them out into the sun choking, while the nuns cheered me on. I made up other stories of saving people; the kind old priest collapsing on the far side of the school paddock with a heart attack. I ran over to him and breathed air into his mouth until he woke spluttering and full of wonder that I had saved his life. All my heroic dreams, games and stories gave me a template for my fall into madness, my relentless struggle with it and my eventual return from it.

When I went to the mental hospital for the first time I thought the nurses and psychiatrists would regard me with respect and a poetic sensitivity for my desperate crisis of being and my heroic struggle to get through it. Though I appeared schizoid and directionless to them I thought they understood that I was fighting the collapse of my self and everything I valued. I was fighting for my life. There is no shortage of myths and legends about people in my kind of predicament – St George and the dragon, forty days in the wilderness, the despair of Job, survival in the trenches. But the psychiatrist and nurses didn’t see me or anyone else in the hospital, reflected in these stories. All they saw was a sick, deluded, screwed up 21 year old who needed their control and containment....

A Friend in Madness

After several years I began to think I shouldn’t fight my madness any more. I could see that it had won again and again. Living against my madness wasn’t working. So I tried to find ways to live with it. How could I live a good life and still have periods of madness? Could I change the experience of my madness so that it was not so disabling or distressing? Would my madness recede if I tried some new ways to make some good things happen to me? No-one else had any answers to these questions and I struggled with them on my own....

Finding Club Mad

My madness was one of the most profound experiences I’d had. It was as intense as falling in love, a religious revelation or overwhelming grief. I didn’t want to romanticise madness but I knew it deserved the same status and respect as any other powerful human experience.

What did it mean when the world was too beautiful for me to look at? What did it mean to be inside the black box? What did it mean that I lived in such extreme zones of existence? Nobody really knew or cared. Except me. Mostly, it meant terrible suffering and my desperate struggle to find a place in the world.

At first it meant wandering around the crumbling edges of human experience like a lost explorer. But over the years I met many fine people who were mad like me. I learnt that our madness had taken us to a foreign land where only mad people could go to. Some of us stayed in this mad land for a long time while others of us got out and kept returning to it. Mental health professionals stood at the border trying to pull people out of the mad land, even the ones that wanted to stay. They knew the mad land as a bad place where people got lost, sometimes forever. But most of them had never been there.

My peers helped to show me that I was not the lone lost explorer I thought I was. The mad land, for all its perils, had some of the most enchanting scenery in the world. Like a land that has mountains and ravines, rivers and caves, blinding sun and swirling storms, the mad land could be a place of beauty as well as danger. My peers helped me to understand that there was a whole tribe of us who had been there and seen many of the same things. Things other people did not understand.

My own pictures of madness came in the form of words and metaphors. At their most powerful, my words floated in from the blackness and passed through me onto paper. I made meaning, not in spite of my madness, but because of it. It was not the kind of meaning that answered ambitious intellectual questions such as ‘why?’ Like haunting music or poetry, it was a meaning saturated with soul, an intuitive expression of being without the labour of logic.

Read the full story here: http://www.outoftheirminds.co.nz/?p=222

See also: Schizophrenia & The Hero's Journey

[Treeline]

There are so many subjects mentioned here, I particularly felt close to the childhood memories...

I find it striking, the idea of saving class mates from a burning school. I remember telling tales of how I saved children in my class from my burning school (never happened of course!) by jumping out the windows, saving them all. These were the sorts of tales I told the kids in my new school when I was 6 or so. Couldn't possibly have interpreted such tales, as impulses or beliefs, psychologically as I do now. Kids are kids... I would just tell people I would, in confusion, like narrating a strangely real dream. Something about these early sort of fantasies definitely set you up for things far grander, later in life. At the time it's childhood imagination maybe.

I wish I could go back and see how differently the imagination and story telling of children in the same class varied with age. It would be interesting to see how people used to this experience of "madness" used to interpret life as very young children. As described here, it's certainly present in the form of exaggeratedly heroic imagination. I can't help seeing it from a warm perspective. Nothing could have been changed at that age afterall, kids are strange

[mscat]

S.E. your threads are always very interesting, evenso sometimes i get lost in them. My plain ignorance , I guess. i've suffered from severe depression, Oddly it took me down a path that was unexplainable> Believing I was underwater at sea, visiting and talking to sponge Bob , and all his friends, at other times believing and watching all the mice running all over the kitchen floor, thinking I did some really bad things as a teenager , and working with young children , killing them , as well as hurting them in gross detail. remembering as if it truely happend setting fires at the preschools, or holding a classful of kds hostage , seeing this and playing it out over and over again. LIstening to ghosts who visitied me, and hearing them speak. LIstened to one that I swore was my dead father, talking to me, and the walls turning black, so black it was thick . Staying inside for days on end with all these thoughts and conclusions , some were terrifying, some were comforting, some were silly, but I jsut couold not stop going there to these dark places , and talking to 'people" or seeing them all the time> I did talk to the therapist about some of these things... The following week he decided to take notes..

But I did end up taking Seroquel along with other meds, things subsided. BUt, looking back at those experiences , I really don't want things toi go there again.

It was not good. I saw that it had to do with the severe depressive state I was in, then everything just crumbled , and things that were making sense at that time should not have. It was not an isloated experience either> Geez, it was happening, and I had done NO drugs or anything to bring it on.

To this day I still need to be very careful, because I can easily get to a place where nothing seems real, or feels real.... When that happens I would severely self harm. Just to see if I could feel. And of course see the blackness where skin use to be. Now thouse were very bad times> I finally got stable though, as long as I take the meds. But sometimes take too many just to sleep longer periods. I do tend to gravitate to taking too much perscription meds, only to be knocked out , so i will not have to face the world. Or try making sense of it.

[spiritual_emergency]

mscat: To this day I still need to be very careful, because I can easily get to a place where nothing seems real, or feels real...

I think all of us know our own comfort levels and we learn to respect and honor that where we are is where we are -- we couldn't possibly be anywhere else but there. I've also noticed that when it comes to some of these experiences, what some people most need to do is to put them behind them in order to heal and move on. Other people need to examine them intently. There is no absolute right approach. We have to adapt our approach to what works for us as individuals. That includes making use of the treatments that we identify as most helpful to us.

Treeline: Couldn't possibly have interpreted such tales, as impulses or beliefs, psychologically as I do now. Kids are kids... I would just tell people I would, in confusion, like narrating a strangely real dream. Something about these early sort of fantasies definitely set you up for things far grander, later in life. At the time it's childhood imagination maybe.

The Hero's Journey is a psychological pattern of growth and transformation. We're probably all familiar with it because it's the basic underpinning of every story, every movie we've ever seen. I don't know if you clicked the link Treehill. If you did, you'd find reference to a conversation between John Weir Perry and Joseph Campbell in which Campbell was surprised to discover that the content that emerges for many individuals in the midst of psychosis, mirrors the pattern of the Hero's Journey...

The Twelve Stages of the Journey

1: Ordinary World: "The Hero's home, the safe haven upon which the Special World and the Journey's outcome must be compared." The Journey begins in the Ordinary World, travels to the Special World, and returns to the Ordinary World.

2: Call to Adventure: The Call to Adventure sets the story rolling by disrupting the comfort of the Hero's Ordinary World, presenting a challenge or quest that must be undertaken.

3: Refusal of the Call: "A Hero often refuses [or is reluctant] to take on the Journey because of fears and insecurities that have surfaced from the Call to Adventure. The Hero may not be willing to make changes, preferring the safe haven of the Ordinary World. This becomes an essential stage that communicates the risks involved in the Journey that lies ahead. Without risks and danger or the likelihood of failure, the audience will not be compelled to be a part of the Hero's Journey."

4: Meeting with the Mentor: "The Hero meets a Mentor to gain confidence, insight, advice, training, or magical gifts to overcome the initial fears and face the Threshold of the adventure. The Mentor may be a physical person, or an object such as a map, a logbook, or other writing."

5: Crossing the Threshold: "Crossing the threshold signifies that the Hero has finally committed to the Journey. He is prepared to cross the gateway that separates the Ordinary World from the Special World."

6: Tests, Allies, Enemies: "Having crossed the threshold, the Hero faces Tests, encounters Allies, confronts Enemies, and learns the rules of this Special World. The Hero needs to find out who can be trusted. Allies are earned, a Sidekick may join up, or an entire Hero Team forged. The Hero must prepare himself for the greater Ordeals yet to come and needs this stage to test his skills and powers, or perhaps seek further training from the Mentor. This Initiation into this Special World also tests the Hero's commitment to the Journey, and questions whether he can succeed."

7: Approach to the Inmost Cave: "The Hero must make the preparations needed to approach the Inmost Cave that leads to the Journey's heart, or central Ordeal. Maps may be reviewed, attacks planned, a reconnaissance launched, and possibly the enemies forces whittled down before the Hero can face his greatest fear, or the supreme danger lurking in the Special World." The Approach may be a time for some romance or a few jokes before the battle, or it may signal a ticking clock or a heightening of the stakes.

8: Ordeal: "The Hero engages in the Ordeal, the central life-or-death crisis, during which he faces his greatest fear, confronts his most difficult challenge, and experiences "death". His Journey teeters on the brink of failure. The Ordeal is the central magical Stage of any Journey. Only through "death" can the Hero be reborn, experiencing a resurrection that grants greater power or insight to see the Journey to the end."

9: Reward (Seizing the Sword): "The Hero has survived death, overcome his greatest fear, slain the dragon, or weathered the crisis of the heart, and now earns the Reward that he has sought. The Hero's Reward comes in many forms: a magical sword, an elixir, greater knowledge or insight, reconciliation with a lover. Whatever the treasure, the Hero has earned the right to celebrate. The Hero may have earned the Reward outright, or the Hero may have seen no option but to steal it. The Hero may rationalize this Elixir theft, having paid for it with the tests and ordeals thus far. But the consequences of the theft must be confronted as the Shadow forces race to reclaim the Elixir that must not see the light of the Ordinary World."

10: The Road Back: "The Hero must finally recommit to completing the Journey and accept the Road Back to the Ordinary World. A Hero's success in the Special World may make it difficult to return. Like Crossing the Threshold, The Road Back needs an event that will push the Hero through the Threshold, back into the Ordinary World. The Event should re-establish the Central Dramatic Question, pushing the Hero to action and heightening the stakes. The Road Back may be a moment when the Hero must choose between the Journey of a Higher Cause verses the personal Journey of the Heart."

11: Resurrection: "The Hero faces the Resurrection, his most dangerous meeting with death. This final life-or-death Ordeal shows that the Hero has maintained and can apply all that he has brought back to the Ordinary World. This Ordeal and Resurrection can represent a "cleansing" or purification that must occur now that the Hero has emerged from the land of the dead. The Hero is reborn or transformed with the attributes of the Ordinary self in addition to the lessons and insights from the characters he has met along the road. The Resurrection may be a physical Ordeal, or final showdown between the Hero and the Shadow. This battle is for much more than the Hero's life. Other lives, or an entire world may be at stake and the Hero must now prove that he has achieved Heroic status and willingly accept his sacrifice for the benefit of the Ordinary World. Other Allies may come to the last minute rescue to lend assistance, but in the end the Hero must rise to the sacrifice at hand. He must deliver the blow that destroys the Death Star (Star Wars), or offer his hand and accept the "magic" elixir of love."

12: Return with the Elixir: "The Return with the Elixir is the final Reward earned on the Hero's Journey. The Hero has been resurrected, purified and has earned the right to be accepted back into the Ordinary World and share the Elixir of the Journey. The true Hero returns with an Elixir to share with others or heal a wounded land. The Elixir can be a great treasure or magic potion. It could be love, wisdom, or simply the experience of having survived the Special World. Even the tragic end of a Hero's Journey can yield the best elixir of all, granting the audience greater awareness of us and our world (Citizen Kane)."

Source: Archetypes on the Path

See also: The Heroine's Journey

Music of the Hour: Mariah Carey ~ Hero

[Mjolnir07]

This is very, very well articulated.

I myself have had similar feelings, akin not simply to "just go with it" nor either to stop fighting, rather to stop perceiving it as something to fight. Of course, I've been going considerably further lately than I'm used to, but the knowledge that I've seen it coming for a long long time is a comfort to some degree. We are indeed, masters of reality; deserving the title because others who claim to be have not the experience we do. At one of my darkest and most troubling moments a few months ago, a very dear friend of mine reminded me that we are the captains of our own souls.

[nathan]

The 'hero's Jounery' sounds a lot like the journey of the artist or creative person who steps out side societal norms, He (or she) has to 'enter the cave', or go into the depts of his creative insight, leaving his comfor zone or the (ordinary world) in the process. He refuses to the call, becuase he intuitively knows that to enter the cave is to step outside the societal norm. thus he knows he will have to face alienation if he leaves..

The tests and enemies are enemies in the sense that they are stopping him from going, bogging him down in the ordinary world, denying his creativity.

His allies are the select fewothers who also deviate fron the norm in pursuit of their creativity. ect..

The reward is finally getting a full view or understanding of what his creativity was in search of..

The road back is difficult because his creativity was outside the norm, therefor most do not share this creative idea, and it is difficult to get them to understand.

Becuase they don't understand in the 'resurrection' he faces the full bront of the societal norm's denial of his creative insight. and he is going to have to reveal his creative insight in the most perfect matter in order to get them to understand and accept it.

Return with elixir' is his reintegration with society, having proven to them what his creative insight found.

I duno, its an interesting pattern, I've seen similar one's in religion....When the sheep deviates from the herd, and jesus brings him back for instance.

I almost want to simplify it to the ego deviating from god and the alienation and horros it faces in the process, then when it finally collapses, or erodes, or realizes it limits, it 're-attaches?' itself with god it pursuit of something greater than it's (now realized) limited itself.