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Stories Narrative research project stories Fighting the Devil
Stories Narrative research project stories Fighting the Devil
Fighting the Devil |
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abuse | brain damage | carer | community/socialising/inclusion | creativity | ect | hospital | medication | medication (-) | psychosis | self knowledge/learning/growth | sense of self | spirituality | statutory mental health services (-) | support from friends | taking control
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Published: December 2005 This story highlights how self-determination and creativity have helped with recovery. I became very ill after a botched anaesthetic at the birth of my son in the sixties. I now suspect that what was diagnosed as puerperal psychosis was really brain damage as a result of an overdose of the anaesthesia, but it was covered up. It took me 12 years before I started to feel that I could cope with life a bit better. The Largactyl they gave me at first just made everything worse. When I was eventually put on the right medication in 1972 it did make a difference. In the meantime I was in and out of various psychiatric hospitals and had ECT several times, which did me no good at all. Someone told me I had the right to refuse, so the last time they offered it to me I did. All this time I was married to a control freak and occasionally abusive man who developed MS in 1972 – the same year I felt I started to turn a corner. I became his carer for over 10 years until he verbally abused my son to the point where my son left after a particularly heightened row. At that point I pretended to be getting ill again in order to have my husband admitted to hospital and get my son back into the house. He died in hospital a few years later and my son has turned out really well despite having a nutty mother and a crippled father. The first signs of recovery were being well enough first to look after my husband and then to stand up to him and have him admitted to hospital. My duty to my son overrode my duty to my husband and besides, my son was much nicer than my husband. I also developed a close friendship with a woman. She made a wonderful counsellor to me when I visited her; she helped me to cope. Unfortunately, she died a few years ago. There was a bit of a hiccup around the time of the menopause when I lost emotional control and became very bad-tempered….my hormones went hay-wire. I had an under-active thyroid for years that went undiagnosed because doctors and G.P.’s see all your physical symptoms as imaginary when you’ve been mentally ill. It’s all left me with a lack of trust in hospitals, doctors and treatment. I have another good friend who lives next door that I go to church with. We really enjoyed the Alpha course there recently and made a lot of new friends. I loved the discussions and the informal sociable aspect of it. It was entirely different from being in church on a Sunday. There was a feeling of togetherness. I’m learning to say no now. If I don’t want to do a thing I don’t do it. I’d advise others not to hold back what you’re feeling. I was afraid that if I came out with what I was feeling they’d have something on me. I fought to behave normally, when I was anything but. I was frightened of the consequences of appearing insane. I’ve written poetry some of which is about my experiences when I was ill. Psychiatrists never give any credence to the fact that there may be other realities, which the brain tunes into when it’s affected by psychosis. One night I wandered soulless upon a stony street, Rough and jagged particles pierced my bleeding feet. I came upon an opening, no door was fitted there, The tomb was Godforsaken, I felt dread beyond compare. I stumbled slowly forward and lay upon a slab, My condition was as helpless as a victim in a lab Then towering above me, who but Lucifer who fell, His grim face was expressionless and cold as ice as well. I sensed that he was waiting with a question yet unsaid, A new strength slowly gathered in my tormented head. I raised myself up slightly, and in not a little fright, I announced my faith in Jesus Christ and declared him to be right, Then to my amazement, this Being, still most calm, Cast a cloak upon me and said, “Your servant Ma’am” I think that I now know that I there was put to test, And by the grace of God alone allowed to come out best.’ This story was written based on this individuals interview for the SRNs narrative research project entitled, 'Recovering Mental Health in Scotland'. More information about the project can be found in the Narrative Research Project section of our website www.scottishrecovery.net. If you’d like to share your own experience of recovery please contact This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it or 0141 240 7790 to discuss. Click here to go back to previous page |
Story Tags
activism community/socialising/inclusion coping strategies creativity depression employment (+) exercise female hospital male medication medication (-) peer support (informal) and befriending seeing things differently self knowledge/learning/growth self management sense of self support from family support from friends support from mental health professionals supportive spouse/partner taking control talking therapies voluntary mental health services volunteering Story disclaimer
The stories presented here are for information only. They are meant to inspire hope and show that recovery can and does happen. The stories highlight various examples of recovery and we do not advocate any of these experiences as the ‘right’ way to recover. Recovery is an individual and unique process, each person must decide for himself or herself what will work for them. Please carefully consider any decisions you make about your own recovery and consult with someone you trust if you feel unsure. See our Submit Your Thoughts pages for details on how to submit a story to us or you can contact us.
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