Rethinking madness

-->

I recently finished reading Rethinking Madness: Towards a Paradigm Shift in Our Understanding and Treatment of Psychosis (Sky’s Edge Publishing, 2012), a book that speaks about the cause and treatment of psychosis, mostly in people with schizophrenia. Author and psychologist Paris Williams, Ph.D, claims that, with the right support, full recovery from this disease is possible and even common. 

This book's views are out of the box, promising to be controversial amongst many, especially the psychiatric establishment. In fact, it is anti-psychiatry.

As you read this, please realize these are not my views, but the conclusions of the author. Never discontinue taking medications without consulting your doctor.

Williams’ research led him to believe that psychosis is not a brain disease as has been thought. Rather, he came to see it as a natural process “initiated by the psyche and…closely associated with a profound reorganization of one’s understanding and experience of the world and of oneself – one’s personal paradigm, in other words.” (Page 132)

The author tells us that there is abundant hope for recovery, a view not supported by the medical establishment. Psychiatry has always claimed that schizophrenia is a chronic disorder that requires life-long treatment with antipsychotic medication. Yet Williams says that long-term use of these medications do not help. The person with psychosis needs a chance to work through things in order to recover. Antipsychotics, when used in the long-term, actually hinder this recovery process.

This book had two effects on me:

As a piece of work that challenges the status quo of psychiatric medicine it excites me. It offers hope where psychiatry says there is no hope. I like revolutionary approaches, especially when tired old approaches haven’t worked. A fresh look at things, whether in medicine, science, or religion, can be healthy. And, in this case, it would be good if we could use fewer psychiatric drugs. Side effects are often worse than the benefits.

But the book also instils fear in me:

• There could be a serious danger if people who are on medications were to read this book and, as a result of what they read, decide to suddenly stop taking them. The results could be tragic.

• Have I been wrong all these years when I’ve encouraged people to listen to their psychiatrist and take their meds?

• Should the wisdom of our psychiatrists be questioned more?  

•  Are some of our mental illnesses not biochemical in nature after all? And what does that mean to our treatment?

• Is the very posting of this review on my blog going to have an adverse effect on people who might not be wise about how they manage their medication? Would they stop trusting their psychiatrist’s care? (I know how important it is to trust the person who is treating you.)

• On the other hand, would suppressing this information, information which could lead to radical change for sufferers, be irresponsible?

Yes, I need to let you know about this book.

Having lived with psychosis in the past, I appreciate Williams’ description of it, especially through the accounts of the six research subjects he features. I could identify with some of them and their stories helped me see what might have caused my own breaks with reality. I can also see why I have recovered from psychosis, though I continue to struggle off and on with moodswings.

Not having been educated in this field, I found the author’s more technical descriptions of the source of psychosis a bit beyond me, but that didn’t take away from the book's usefulness.

I would very much recommend this book, especially to open-minded and free-thinking doctors. Why not give a copy to your psychiatrist?

White-knuckled

Chica, in a recent post quoted Phyllis from The Young and the Restless as saying, "I'm holding on so tight that my knuckles are white." This reminded me of the way I used to feel. I wrote about it in my new yet-to-be-published book, A Firm Place to Stand, and thought I would share it here. This also happens to be a theme we will discuss at Living Room this Friday.

I dedicate this post to Chica.

I Don’t Believe in If Anymore
©marja bergen

With the greatest determination, I used to cling to what was left of my mind’s composure. I felt as though I were hanging from the edge of a high rooftop, white-knuckled, panicky with fear. How long can I hold on like this? Can I maintain my strength? What will happen if I let go? Exhaustion overwhelmed me. Far below was the hard ground and no one to catch me if I fell.

But I did fall – quite often. These experiences were devastating and difficult to recover from. The support I received from family, friends and my doctor was helpful, but I was alone in the battle.

Rudyard Kipling’s poem If was like a bible to me during many years of my illness. I described in Riding the Roller Coaster how meaningful this poem became, how I patterned my life after its good counsel, how I carried it with me for many years. It encouraged me to become a productive and responsible person. I still think highly of the poem and try to go along with most of its advice. I follow through on my dreams, don’t worry about what others say and try as much as possible to “…fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds’ worth of distance run.” But I no longer listen to the challenge Kipling leaves us with these words:

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will, which says to them, “Hold on!”

For twenty-three years, I tried to live out those lines when I was in crisis. I tried with my best willpower to survive the mental turmoil that overtook me. I was determined to be strong, hanging on to whatever I could, but not finding much of substance. Those were times of anxiety and fear.

Coping with crisis finally changed for the better when I could no longer deny that God is real. I realized I didn’t have to depend on myself alone. I could relax my grip and trust in someone much stronger than me.

The faith I learned to have in a God who loves me too much to let me go helps me cope better with stress. Extreme difficulties no longer develop as often. Sometimes I still have a fear of falling, and for good reason. But today I have a Bible that tells me, “Don’t be afraid, for I am with you. Do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you. I will help you. I will uphold you with my victorious right hand.” (Isaiah 41:10, NLT) Remembering this gives me comfort when I need it. I am not as afraid anymore.

Challenging periods will always be part of my life. There will be times when I’ll have trouble. I may even fall. But I know that when I do, there will be someone there to catch me and stay with me as I recover. I’ll never be alone again.

Hanging on the wall across from my bed is a photograph of a child’s small hand resting comfortably on her father’s big hand. Underneath are the words from Proverbs 3:5, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.” During tough times, I look at that photograph and feel a sense of peace. No longer is there a need for white-knuckled fists, no longer a need to rely on my own inadequate strength.