A mental health service user's perspective on the 'Recovery Model'

I would certainly not describe myself as 'recovered', although that is a term and a concept developed by service users as a far back as 1995. It was introduced as a concept to challenge those who would set us apart from others, denigrate us in society. It was an attempt we made to be better understood and accepted.

The response to the concept of 'recovery' has been mixed. It is now adopted as the new model in mental health, no reference or credibility has been given to the service users like myself who initiated the whole concept through giving talks on mental illness around the country, taking questions and answers and so on. Framing mental illness as an understandable phenomenon to everyone. Some of my first thoughts and writings on the subject are in documents archived by the National Perception Forum.

That reality and history has been obscured and, under the recovery model, we are treated as if we are stupid and have to be pushed and cajoled into work as part of our 'recovery'. It doesn't seem to occur to those administering 'recovery' that we do actually live in the community now, so many of us know where and how to find jobs. Many of us have already tried with varying degrees of success to work, we do not need to be pushed around.

The ultimate aim in the 'recovery model' is to discharge us from mental health services and the mental health remit altogether, the 'logic' being that we have 'recovered'. That is dubious and lacks understanding of mental illness, emotional distress and the ensuing disability.

After a true breakdown, we do not ever really recover, as I have not. It still remains that I would dearly like to have a close relationshiop with another person, but that ( which many people may take for granted) is a near impossibility for me. I cannot watch TV as it either bores me to distraction, or I have uncontrollable fits of crying. Emotionally, I cannot cope with being around children. I cannot go out easily therefore I stay in on my own. I cannot go out at night, and have a poor understanding of money. I have auditory, visual and tactile hallucinations, panic attacks, night terrors, panic attacks at night and I self harm, the scars are there for all to see. Then there are permanent physical health problems from the long term use of psychotropic drugs including mood stabilisers, problems such as diabetes, oedema, weight gain, muscle stiffness which leads to a sedentary lifestyle and exacerbates problems.

The 'Recovery Model' now adopted is highly patronising, it assumes we know nothing and that there is nothing wrong with us, therefore there is no duty of care, but we do still have to take medication.

What I would like to know, now that I have expressed a little of what it is like from a service users perspective, is how do the staff feel about constantly making us do their work for them? I will give an example ( although there are plenty of examples like this), it will hopefully make it clear; groups are set up in the community to help mental patients, like a 'walk and talk' group, or a 'walking group', we are then told that we will then (after a period of time) have to run it ourselves. It is because it is an 'aid' to our 'recovery', and we should not get dependant on services. Is it such a terrrible sin to depend on others? ( and are we very bad children if we let this happen?). According to the recovery model, it should not be, we should not be dependent on anyone for anything. Are we not human then? Surely as human beings it is acknowledged that we are social beings and not solitary, does this not apply to menatally ill people too? How come we as mental health service users should have nothing, no support, no day centre, no care ... only medication? Told to do voluntary work? This is not 'recovery', it is more like 'exploitation'.

Treatment and care has come full circle to what was there before, but now, there is actually much less support.

This is known as 'Ego Documentation', here is my up to date version.

Throughout my life, I have felt on the one hand a great love for the world, for people and animals, but also a deep concern. An example of this is how I feared nuclear holocaust in the 1980's; to the extent that I was inconsolable for a long time, my sister managed to talk me round, eventually, when I finally opened up to her and said what was wrong.

Around this time too, I made a decision that I would probably not bring any children of my own into the world as I felt that life was already hard for me and would be getting worse, I did not want them to suffer as I did. I was also feeling that I had no choice but to become active in politics in order to stop the attacks on our livelihoods, ( this was around the time of the Miner's strike; Margaret Thatcher's heyday). It was a fear I had ( maybe irrational, maybe not), that if I became a target because of my views, I did not want to have children who might be used by others as a way of getting to me, forcing me to cease political activism.

As I got more deeply involved in politics, I became bent on being part of destroying the existing system ( capitalism) and that was it. I was singular in this aim, I did realise that it might be a little over the top, but I rationalised this by thinking and believing it was my role in life, that I was a bit like Kali ( the dark destroyer from Hinduism) or that I would emanate her. Such single mindedness may have also been compensation too. An escape and outlet for the unhappy and failed close relationships I experienced that seemed to feature in my life.

Another element was that I felt responsible for many people's spiritual or emotional deaths. On tackling other peoples political beliefs, I would strip them of their own belief systems, attempting to bring forth an understanding of the world as a class system. Any defence of the system was met with contempt and derision from me, I made it clear that a position of defending the system was unacceptable to me. I was highly destructive in many respects.

There were so many issues, political and philosophical that I was unfamiliar with and may not have fully appreciated or understood, but I always did my best to understand theoretical concepts and historical events. I was though, developing a vicious tongue and a heavy burden, in the sense that I felt like all the world's problems were on my shoulder.

So this was me; unhappiness and failed/ failing relationships, anger at the injustice in the world ( which was enhanced by being a political activist, by being more and more exposed to examples of cases of injustice), a combination of emotions that ran so deep within me and it could not go on, so I flipped out and had a nervous breakdown, or, a spiritual death.

This experience made me extremely flat ( zombie like even) and it did feel like I was in Hell. I still had a sense of humour and a sense of love for others and for humanity. Although it was hard to hang on to those things at times, I did manage it and I survived (to tell the tale).

LOWKEY - HAND ON YOUR GUN

Chatham Works Exhibition - Nick Evans

Nick Evans

This wonderful exhibition is currently showing at the Nucleus Arts Centre Gallery in Chatham (272 High Street) until the 17^th November.

Chatham landmarks are clearly depicted with colour and drama. Chatham and its icons are boldly represented with fond familiarity and exuberant colours in their surround.

The artists selects just a few significant places, ones with presence and maybe their beauty somewhat hidden, such as the Brook Theatre.

Is this really our home town? Yes it is; not only the landmarks, but also the atmosphere and its not gloomy either, rather it’s exciting and dramatic.

Of course Chatham is not known as a beauty spot or for its artistic attributes, but at this exhibition, artist Nick Evans captures from his Chatham studio what we know and love about the town, so impressive are the outer representations, we can feel its familiarity and admire them too.

Chatham is not without its victims of life, it’s a hard town with a history of hardship, such that it was an inspiration for many of Dickens novels. Artist Nick Evans demonstrates an understanding and appreciation of this essence. In one corner of the Gallery; as you travel around the paintings of our beloved town there are two people (opposite the painting of flowers) a man and a woman in separate paintings, they are naked. Their vulnerability for all to see, these are our Chatham people, a boy and a girl.

The two pictures bring to a close our journey through Chatham and there follows in the same style, paintings of beautiful places in Cornwall perhaps representing our dreams of escape.

It’s a wonderful and moving exhibition, one that tells a story (or three).