Tag Archive: Delusion


My Lord, What Love Is This?

I can’t remember how I started thinking about this a few minutes ago, but I’ve just been grossed out, outraged and horrified by a piece of Church teaching that has never really hit me as so horrific before. It’s been presented as something good and deeply loving and pastoral and sadly necessary, without question, totally uncritically, and I along with many others have swallowed it, accepted and validated it in exactly the same way.

It is about the way God (and, by extension, His leaders, both temporal and spiritual) supposedly disciplines us.  He has been likened to a Middle Eastern shepherd. They lead their sheep from the front, apparently.  They have names for all of them (if it still works that way).  Jesus said His sheep know His voice and won’t follow another.

We have been told, so I suppose it must be true, that if a shepherd had a sheep that was constantly wondering off, he would break its leg and carry it until it was healed.  During that time the bond between the shepherd and the sheep would become so strong that the sheep wouldn’t wonder off after its leg had healed.  Wow.  How deep.  How lovely and romantic and heart-breakingly beautiful, that a shepherd could love his sheep that much – we are supposed to think, and feel, and some of us have, for many, many years, and grieve that we make it necessary.

I know this is going to offend a lot of people, but I think this thinking is warped and comes from a sick mind and makes its recipients and adherents sick, blind and cruel, to and about themselves and others.

Even if that shepherd thinks he loves his sheep, he is deluding himself, maybe because of the demands of the job and his need for it, and not facing the fact that he is raising them for one sole purpose: to be butchered, slaughtered, killed, violently deprived of life and end up on someone’s dinner plate, feeding someone’s selfish, animal appetites – these days, maybe mine.  And in the meantime he is causing an errant sheep pain by breaking its leg just so he doesn’t have to keep going to find it when, with its awesome, cute and endearing little personality it doesn’t always go where he wants it to go on its innocent and oblivious, happy little journey to the slaughterhouse.  So it might get attacked by wild animals. He is raising it to be killed anyway, so rescuing it can only be an economic and employment contract concern.  Where are his love, joy, humour, delight, relationship, humility and respect, in, with and for the animal?  So as I say in my title, what love is this??? How is this really a model of love in any kind and healthy person’s mind?

The Middle Eastern shepherd would lay down his life for the sheep.  Among other things, he would get them all into the pen at night and lie down and sleep at its entrance, to protect them.  And yet he was taking them to certain death.  That was the purpose.  So maybe this was required of the shepherd by his employers rather than being anything like the act of love and devotion it is presented as.  This has been far too romanticised and idealised outside of its economic context.  I wonder why shepherds were a despised group?  I’m sure that, with their mindset (if, as spiritual principle makers would have it, there was love and concern for the sheep involved), they must have had many emotional and mental problems.  I’ve often thought this in recent years reading David’s Psalms.  But everyone loves King David, and so should I.  I mustn’t touch him.  I’ll get myself strung up, by all sorts of people.

Oh, wait – I already have done!  Would someone please be so sweet and so kind as to cut me down?

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Laura Delano on Recovering Myself

I posted this talk on my Facebook page last year and it has come up as a memory today.  When I saw how long it was I wasn’t sure if I could be bothered to listen to it again, but I am glad I did.  It’s about 50 minutes long, but absolutely engaging throughout.  I find I am able to identify with her on so much of what she has to say.  She seems obviously nervous, and I think she is very brave, it is an incredibly painful subject for those of us who have been through it and find it continues to add to the pain that exposed us to it in the first place.  I hope you will listen to it.  I’ve heard a lot of it before and agreed with it, and thought the same things myself.  It’s hard for me to say what I thought myself and what I picked up, but it doesn’t matter, it’s not important.  In my opinion, this talk – wow, she’s amazing!  All power to her.  I’m glad she has found freedom from this monster called the psychiatric system.  Now I want to, once and for all.

Managers’ Hearing 19.11.2013

One of the things Dr Moldavsky said was that past behaviour is a guide to future behaviour, and he was talking about the fact that I had taken an overdose of paracetamol over 10 years ago.  He thinks I might do the same again, so he says, if I am off medication.  I was four years off medication recently and didn’t even consider suicide, and I decided years ago that I wasn’t going to overdose or anything else like that again.  I said that in the meeting.  It seems as if I am dealing with a determinist in Dr Moldavsky.  I doubt him, I don’t think his presentation was altogether honest.  It certainly was full of put downs.  He said I was trying to hide things and was guarded.  I have the right to decide how much I can psychologically and emotionally cope with saying to whom, and I do not choose to say the same things over again to a psychiatric team just to have them dismissed as delusion.  I have said it is like forced marriage.  It is life rape and I want it to end.

Update 26.07.2013

I’m in a pub in Bulwell again and not very focused.  Jim went off ill soon after the bust up entry.  I’ve been told he has injured his back.  We have had quite a few staff on who are not normally on our ward.  The only thing really on my mind is an incident a couple of weeks ago where R was told to clean up her own vomit.  R is in a wheelchair, she has told me she has MS.  I spoke to the shift manager that day and said I was concerned about it because this was what I had been led to believe but after thinking about it thought perhaps her wheelchair was a concession to a delusion or something.  Obviously he wasn’t free to discuss her with me, but I expressed my concern and he said things aren’t necessarily as I have been led to believe, but even that can’t be seen as a definite because that would have been discussing her with me.  I have thought though that even if the wheelchair was a consession to a delusion, to confront it that way seems to me cruel and brutal, but I don’t know what has gone between them before.  She is quite big as well, and a lot older than me.  Having been 3 stones heavier than I am now and knowing how hard it was, and sometimes still is, for me to bend and get up, I expressed concern, but basically said the bottom line for me is that she is in a wheelchair and that it was distressing to me to have had to witness this.  Personally I have been uneasy if this was a way of confronting a delusion.  I talked about the time that I vomited in church and my stomach was hurting and a woman came up with a bucket of water and cloths or something and I said thank you, and she said ‘I’m not doing it.  I’ve seen this before’.  It seems she assumed I was drunk or something.  I can’t remember if I cleaned up or not, I know I was in a dreadful state after being sick.  I supposed that R must have felt the same way.  I haven’t submitted a complaint.  I haven’t named the staff involved.  Personally I have tried to have a good relationship with the person concerned, it isn’t my purpose to name him.  I feel bad even about going this far.

My Imaginary Friend

I have a friend, at least in my imagination, that I always want to contact with sensitive and intimate information.

On Friday I was walking along Queensway/Bayswater Road and for some reason I was remembering the time when an old lady died who had always been in Church, never said much, or anything at all, that I remember hearing, but always, without fail, had a smile on her face.  I thought she was lovely and beautiful and serene.  I know nothing about her life.

I was remembering that, when I heard she had died, I went back to my grandparents’ house crying my eyes out.  When they asked me why I was crying and I told them, one of them said ‘what are you crying for?  She wasn’t family’.

I can’t remember who it was so no one can be betrayed by me saying so.  I can’t remember if and how I answered the question.  I know my feelings and crying were not affirmed.  For a moment in Queensway I felt the pain and the emotion again, and I wanted to write and tell my imaginary friend.

I believe my imaginary friend reads my blog.  Imaginary because we have never had a close up relationship, and imaginary because, except for when things seem very simple and obvious in his favour, I feel and believe and know that things are far too complicated.  It is imaginary because I am in denial, even having it as imaginary.

But there is pain in my heart as I am writing this, and it is always him that comes to mind when this kind of thing comes up and I want to tell him.  I used to write to him a lot.  Almost always, as soon as I started, I had to push through my ambivalence and anger to do so.  He knew that, I told him so.

I once heard him saying, in answer to someone’s question, that if someone attacked him (or something like that) he would hold them in a bear hug.  On my side there is often so much resentment, and on his there must be some exceptions, that even if no attack was involved not everyone would be treated equally.  Even if there are no exceptions for him, I think, apart from my imagination which tells me I am wrong in the strongest possible terms, that I would find it awkward and difficult.

 

 

Question Time Teresa May

She looked sickly sheepish, didn’t she, all the time they were talking?  You have to feel a bit sorry for her, programmes like that are their own form of torture.

I thought she was looking that way about me, because they were talking about waterboarding, and I used a metaphor in a post a few days ago about having my head held under water until I tried to scream.  Everyone knows, obviously, that when you are under water you can’t scream.

But this morning I woke up and thought, ‘who set me up to think they were talking about me?  The presenter.  Teresa May really MIGHT not even know I exist, so why should I attribute anything about her to thoughts she is having about me?

But she has been looking that way ever since I started blabbing.  That is why I think there is something in it.

And following my post, ‘Note to my 16 and a half stone self’, she somehow made leaflets, which she repeated 3 times, sound like Lil-lets, which used to be my choice, and followed it up with firm stuff about going too far, crossing the line, being stopped. They do this all the time, grab hold of something really sensitive and personal and go into a strict, scolding tone to put a limitation on me.  I’m always unprepared for it, I never quite believe it when it comes, and it always leaves me feeling, ‘hey, you can’t do that’, or worse.  I can almost hear them saying, ‘if you don’t come to us we are going to keep doing this’.  Who knows that if I go to them they will find stronger ways to do that in a face to face relationship?  DA! (Bulgarian for yes).

I love Jesus, and I know I’m a bit of a stupid person, but if my life is being stalked and has been stalked in this way, I do want it stopped.  I also want the way the mental health system works challenged, because when people present saying things like this they are put on medication for paranoia.  It isn’t just the reaction of society that is injurious, it is everything, and sometimes everyone, that goes before it.

I no longer go into a situation telling people I have a mental health diagnosis.  The law doesn’t require me too, and that is right.  And yet, even though I choose not to disclose things I’m not under an obligation to and relate as positively and normally as possible, people, even here 2000 miles away, is it, start hitting me with words and snippets there is no way they could know unless someone is telling them.  And I know what I’ve heard and seen on the radio and television, here and elsewhere.  Everything is fine for a day or two, then people start going crazy around me, and at me.

I don’t know how long the stalking has been going on, but my whole life has been like this and my dad thought there was something happening.  I wonder if what I am getting is a continuation of what was going on with him.  I don’t understand why they would want to do it, though.  Not if it goes all the way back to my dad.  He had performance connections, I’m not sure how strong, I think they were in his family.  I haven’t seen them since before I was 10 years old, well before.  They disowned him at one point, he spent time in an approved school.  As far as officials are concerned, maybe they just decided we are a bad family.  My sister has had 3 children taken away from her.

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