How Safe is Your Church for Me?

A couple of weeks ago I gave a talk at Lancashire Roofbreakers. The group was set up just over a year ago and was originally called the Lancashire Churches Disability Network, which was quite a mouthful! For those who may be wondering where the new name comes from, it refers to the story of a group of friends who carried their paralysed friend on a bed to see Jesus. Of course he was visiting a family home and crowds made it impossible for the friends to get to Jesus. So, they climbed on the roof (look at Middle Eastern homes - it's entirely practical!) broke through and lowered their friend right in front of Jesus - hence the term Roofbreakers. The aim is to explore and find solutions to the problem of inclusion for those with disability in accessing and being included as full members of church communities.

As many readers of my blog know, Mental Illness is the invisible disability and it is often neglected when discussing accessibility in churches. The following is a blog I have written as part of the report on the morning of talks, which can be read in full @includedbygrace on Twitter, or google Lynn McCann, a brilliant champion for those with Learning Disabilities with a particular focus on those on the Autistic Spectrum. Lynn has been a real encouragement to me as we have met when her timetable allows to discuss the common ground between LD issues and Mental Health issues.

The following is a summary of my talk:

How Safe is my Church?

It is interesting to consider how quickly our minds move towards physical and accommodation issues when considering this question. Or am I a minority of one? I find it interesting when listening to others whose concern focuses on other disabilities. The need for ‘inclusion’ seems to equate to making sure people can all join together in one big crowd and how we manage to make it physically possible for that happen. This includes the size of our buildings, accessible doorways, seating etc.

As someone who has grown up in churches of all shades and opinions and who lives with a complex mental health condition, the focus on the physical surrounding is irrelevant to me in helping me to feel included within the Church Family.

My biggest problem with Church, is the people. Not the attitude I encounter (although stigma remains a massive issue) but the fact that Church by its nature forces me to spend time with large numbers of people. Let me explain why this would be a problem to me. I have a diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder. It is sometimes now referred to as either Emotionally Unstable PD or Emotionally Sensitive PD.

Marsha Linehan, an American Clinical Psychologist who has created an effective therapy for BPD called Dialectical Behaviour Therapy and who finally admitted she herself shared the diagnosis, has summed up the experience of living with BPD as follows:

‘Borderline individuals are the psychological equivalent of third-degree-burn patients. They simply have, so to speak, no emotional skin. Even the slightest touch or movement can create immense suffering.’

Let’s just pause for a moment and imagine that the presence of other human beings, of any number can feel excruciating, then let me ask some questions about ‘how safe’ the way we do church, especially on Sundays, feels to me.

How Do We ‘Do’ Church?

 Medieval

If you spend any time visiting the large spectacular buildings of our historic churches and cathedrals, we can observe how the medieval church gathered. It was often the largest building in towns and villages and therefore was used for mass gatherings, there was no seating. As a modern church, we have inherited buildings from earlier generations. From a purely appreciative perspective, it is fantastic to know that there is such a ‘Cloud of Witnesses’ who have gone before us. Have they always worshipped solely in large spacious buildings, in large crowds, or has there been a different way of gathering together?

 Victorian

We have a legacy of physical spaces which force us to look at numbers over quality of relationship. What then, of the timetable of fellowship in each week? The Victorians put pews into the large medieval structures, or mimicked them by building huge structures in the medieval image. That means that it would feel like a waste if our main meeting together didn’t make use of this accommodation. What about two large gatherings every Sunday? Evening services effectively developed when Sunday Schools were at their height and churches needed to feed their Sunday School teachers spiritually. Is the way we plan services on a Sunday effective for today’s needs?

 Big Crowds

When I am invited to join in with my church family I am caught in a conundrum. I know that the Bible exhorts us to ‘not give up meeting together’, but why do our gatherings focus primarily on large groups of people?

We like numbers, in a society where Christianity faces many challenges sometimes our need to gather in large numbers can feel like a form of defence. It’s okay, we may say, if our large Victorian building is full, especially every Sunday. We feel safe in large groups. They’re anonymous.

If the presence of people inspires anxiety and panic in me, is it safe for everyone? What would happen if our focus moved from joining together as the whole church body (particularly in large and growing churches) and looked at how well supported our small groups are? It’s easy to escape the challenges of living in fellowship if you only attend the large, well-attended meetings particularly on Sundays. It also allows us to absolve our responsibility to be an inclusive church to the Welcome or Leadership Teams.

 Family Focused

For many with Mental Health issues, families are not safe places. I need you to teach me and model for me what a loving family can be. Is the emphasis on children, and the importance of family in the way you do Church, hurting people who have internal wounds which need to be healed? I found it interesting at our meeting of Roofbreakers how much time was spent discussing the needs of children in church with Learning Difficulties and the practical solutions offered to help them stay in Church. Many of the solutions were on drawing people into the larger group. The prospect of only being able to access Church if I am prepared to manage my emotional responses enough to ‘cope’ with being in groups of 100+, terrifies me so much, most Sundays I either have to put in all my energy to staying once I’ve managed to get myself up, to the building and through the door, or I opt out.

How Can we Do Church?

 Redefine

Can we redefine church from being the gathering of EVERYONE in our circles on a Sunday to a broader definition? How often do we enjoy being able to share in the Spirit with the struggles of the church worldwide, while we neglect the regular remembrance of those who are housebound, or unable to join with us due to disability of any kind. For me, the ability of friends in ones, twos and small groups to meet together and support me spiritually is vital to me feeling a part of the church.

Do we need to look again at where the church started? 3000 were suddenly added to the church at Pentecost, where did they all end up meeting? They didn’t have large buildings, nor did they have the ‘evangelical timetable’. You know the one: Sunday is Church, Monday is Ladies’ Prayer, Wednesday is Small Groups, Thursday/Friday is Youth.

Where is the idea that Church is ‘where one or two are gathered in my name’, or ‘Whenever they met together’. If Church is only Sundays (I know and have heard many times, ‘Church is not the buildings but the people’) then is the way we define Church out of sync with what we believe about what Church should be?

 Break Down the Numbers

What would happen if our focus was more on organising ourselves as mainly meeting as church in smaller groups. What if our gathering of the ‘whole’ congregation became less regular, on a monthly basis, and the main point of teaching was within smaller groups? What if we sold our buildings off, or changed them to be an essential resource for the community, thereby having a daily presence of the Church in witness to the world?

 Challenge Stigma

The best way to challenge any prejudice is to introduce the bigot to a real living person with whom they have to interact. If you want to know how my experience of life and faith differs from yours, ask me. In smaller groups it is easier to break down barriers. Again if Church only means the big Sunday Services, it becomes very easy to pat me on the head and distance yourself from what I’ve been banging on about at the front. Especially, if you misunderstand what Mental Illness is and how it affects people.

 Relationship

My understanding of the Christian gospel is that relationship is central to it. In the beginning, God established that ‘it was not good for man to be alone’.

Before we are in relationship with God there is a vacuum. Emptiness and isolation are common symptoms of a number of complex and more common mental illnesses. It follows then, that the Church has hope to offer to people with Mental Health issues. God understands that we were made for relationship.

Is the way we do Church at the minute designed to help us develop effective and satisfying relationships with one another? I often have conversations with people about how dissatisfied they are with the lack of depth in their Church friendships. That’s because we fail to apply God’s principles to our Church relationships. We emphasise our relationship with God, rightly and stress the importance of time spent learning more and more about Him through prayer and Bible Study.

The Church is Christ’s Bride, that means that every one of us form a part of one body, we are all united to one another in Christ. Somehow, I think we have decided to accept that this mysterious, spiritual union, somehow negates the necessity to learn more about one another, in fellowship.

How do we do that? By spending time with one another, for me the most effective and safest way to get to know my Church Family is in ones and twos. When I spend more time with you during the week, then there is a shared understanding when we come together for worship and fellowship as part of the wider family. If I can see that I am accepted, that there are reliable relationships and true friendships, then it makes the struggle to get to the bigger meetings worth it. How important, really is relationship and enabling the building of in-depth relationship, in the way we currently do church?

I am not offering any answers. I recognise the inherent challenge in much of what I have said. However, I hope it helps us to engage with the thorny issues around probably the most isolated disability group in our churches. Solutions and hope for relationships are welcome.

The WCA, my Recovery and Me

I've had a substantial period of relative stability. As with any path to long term recovery, I have had ups and downs as well as adjusting the direction of my life to managing my condition on a daily basis. Compared to three years ago, I have been doing really well, until...

Life happens to us all, bereavements, the day to day grind to manage income over outgoings. In addition I have to manage my reactions emotionally. It helps if I can plan my life and build routines to support my physical as well as my emotional health. Those are the skills I have had to learn through intensive DBT (Dialectical Behaviour Therapy)and those are the skills which have helped me manage the cycles of despair, self destructive behaviour and recovery. It was going well, until...

One of the most difficult aspects of life to manage when I am emotionally unstable is my finances. It is essential that I don't restart the spiral into debt which marked most of my adult life. I need to be able plan and to know well in advance if I am likely to lose any income so I can make the necessary adjustments. Perhaps, emotionally, I need more notice than most, I don't react well to change of any kind. So, any changes are highly destabilising. Through hard work and with the support of debt charities and the Citizens Advice Bureau, I have managed to get to a level of financial equilibrium even though my income is the least I have ever had in my life. Until...

Everything suddenly was thrown into disarray by the arrival of a white envelope which contained my Work Capability Assessment form. Suddenly, all my anxiety symptoms came rushing back. I had a full blown panic attack. Why such a reaction? I don't think anyone can understand the cumulative impact of all the rhetoric and talk about 'workers and shirkers' unless they have been involved in the realities of the so called 'welfare reforms'. The current political and economic culture casts me in the role of someone who is a drain on society. Despite having worked and 'paid' into the system for over thirty years, I feel guilty for being so ill, for so long.

Filling in the form itself, involves making sure I detail the impact of my condition on me. It means revisiting the worst times of my life, reinforcing the sense of me being a condition rather than a person. It reminds of the limits my condition places on my life, it reinforces the sense of being 'less than' everyone 'normal' and confirms that I am worthless as a person able to contribute to the wider community. This process of form filling was made worse by the fact that I had begun to volunteer on a regular basis and was rebuilding my self confidence, only to be reminded (by myself) of how far from 'normal' I am. I needed to get the form posted and away from me as quickly as I could. I was given a deadline of 18th March to return the form by and posted it on 4th March. If that had been the end of the WCA form, it would have been okay, but it wasn't.

On 11th March I suffered an emotional crisis triggered by another letter, which threatened me with losing my benefits because they had not received my form. It wasn't due until 18th March - the impact of the letter was compounded by the fact that in the past when I was in significant levels of debt I received similar 'threatening' legalese letters from debt collection companies. There was no phone number on the letter where I could query the non arrival of my form (along with significant amounts of reports and medical evidence). I had to phone the Job Centre Plus phone number. I had to wait 20-25 minutes before reaching a human being. The phone system is automated and it is not immediately clear that it is the right place for WCA queries. By the time my call was answered I was sobbing and distraught. Any ability to use my 'Wise Mind' skills had long since been overwhelmed by feelings of anxiety, panic and an increasing sense of injustice. The person at the other end, was unable to help me and pointed out that the system was showing that they had not received my form. As I had returned it on 4th March, this increased my distress. I asked what I was supposed to do? 'Send in a duplicate'. She dictated an address. 'That is different from the one on this letter'. 'Yes, now that you have failed to return the form on time, it needs to go for adjudication and you need to explain why it is late.' My mind spiralled, it wasn't late, I still had nine days to go until the deadline. She then explained that depending on whether my reasons were 'acceptable' I may have my benefits stopped. By the time I came off the phone I was completely out of control emotionally, something which I had not experienced for about a year.

My most level headed friend bore the brunt of my uncontrollable sobbing. Having read the letter several times, she pointed out to me that right at the bottom in smaller print than the 'URGENT THIS DEMANDS YOUR ATTENTION' opening paragraph, was the sentence, 'if you have returned the form already please ignore...' She spent a number of hours calming me down and we decided to leave redoing the form until after the weekend. We agreed that I would phone back the Job Centre Plus number on Monday and do a final check to find out if the form had been 'found'.

So, I phoned on the Monday, with still five days to go to the original deadline of 18th March. This time when checking the 'WCA system' the notes had been updated. My form had been received on 7th March. The lady asked me when the 'reminder' letter had been sent: it was issued on 9th March.

There had been no need for the letter to be sent, and therefore no need to cause me undue distress. The system did not help me remotely in my recovery or give me any incentive me towards returning to work full time. In reality, I do not think that I will ever be able to manage that and maintain my emotional stability. In fact the emotional fall out from the incident has caused me to remain emotionally vulnerable for a six week period. Energy which could have been spent on planning ongoing recovery and increase in activity which will eventually lead me on to a return to some level of paid work, has instead been spent in recovering from the WCA process and in regaining the emotional stability which had been part of my recovery.

On reflection my experience of the WCA process was relatively straightforward and simple, resulting in my current placement in the support group of ESA continuing. Without the pressure of being in the WRAG group of the ESA (and the £30 per week reduction) I can return to my path to recovery without daily anxiety about having to meet arbitrary deadlines, appointments and interviews which would destabilise me entirely.

Yet, I have suffered six weeks of instability unnecessarily. I am well educated, have had over thirty years of work and professional experience, have a strong support network and had been stable for some months prior to the WCA process. I can only imagine the damage caused by this process to those who do not have access to any of these internal or external resources.

I have a number of observations:

1) If you insist on people on sickness and disability benefits meeting immovable deadlines under the threat of losing their income, then your system needs to be equally accountable and efficient in managing the needs of those it purports to 'help'.

2) If you issue threatening letters to people who are emotionally and mentally vulnerable, please have the courage to provide a direct phone line on which to contact you. Do not pass the buck to public servants who are not privy to all the information about your processes and who are faced with having to manage highly distressed individuals, some of whom are at raised risk of suicide or self harm as a result of your system.

3) Because I have a mental health condition, does not mean that I can be dismissed as not being worthy of the usual courtesies and social mores of our community. Even in the criminal justice system a defendant is 'presumed innocent' after the police have laid charges against them. The WCA process feels as if I am considered to be deliberately trying to defraud the system.

4) 0.3% of welfare claimants have been proved to have made fraudulent claims. That means that 99.7% are not - why set up a system which is so punitive for such a tiny proportion of your target constituency?

5) When will we value people for who they are, not for how much money they either 'cost' or 'contribute to' society? Although, I can point to the fact that I have managed to work for most of my life I am loathe to base my value or any right to claim support on this. When I was able to I was happy to join with the rest of the community in providing for the vulnerable and those in need in our nation. After all, I was helped through university by free education, so it was right that I paid my tax and national insurance towards supporting those who didn't earn as much.

6) When we judge those on welfare, we forget that it is possible for anyone to lose their health, job or home due to a sudden change in circumstances. 'There but for the grace of God, go I...'

Life in the 'Wheel of Fire'

I studied English Language and Literature at university. Shakespeare, of course was one of the most significant writers studied, due to his influence in both literature and language spheres - he invented 1700 words that are still in common usage! Of all of his plays I am most drawn to the tragedies of King Lear and Hamlet, along with the tragi-comedy, Twelfth Night. I kind of love misery...

Central to all of these plays is the idea of fate and fatal flaws in the main characters, which causes their ultimate downfalls. This sense of being trapped in endless suffering is sometimes called 'the wheel of fire'. The idea of characters trapped in the 'wheel of fire' comes from Greek tragedy. It is the story of Ixion who is tied to the wheel of fire for the crime of lusting after Zeus's wife. As with all Greek punishments the wheel turns unendingly.

I have had a number of conversations with fellow sufferers of mental illness around the idea of suffering and the feelings of despair felt by the sense that we seem to be tied to our own 'wheels of fire'. It is tempting to see myself trapped in my own 'wheel of fire' made up of my mental health condition and the cycles of uncontrollable emotional storms which have plagued my life.

The idea of a Fatal Flaw is the closest I can come to describe the feeling of being trapped by who I am and how I feel about my life experiences. Perhaps my understanding of this idea has meant that I have not struggled with the diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder as a description of the cycles I have gone through in life. However, there is a flaw in this symbol. It is two-fold: firstly, the character's flaw is usually something like pride, or blind trust. In contrast, for me, the problems I encounter in being emotionally sensitive are not embedded in who I am, but in how I am 'wired' - I'm sure a neuroscientist could explain it better than me - the part of my brain which controls the emotions is more 'trigger happy' than average. So the 'flaw'is not in my personality, but in my physiology - if it were 'faulty' cancer cells, it would be easier for other people, as well as myself to understand - somehow.

Secondly, within all Tragedies there is a fatalism which means the characters are unable, or unwilling to try and break the endless turning of the 'wheel of fire', so their ultimate destruction is inevitable. Even though there have been times when the pain of living with trauma and the inability to manage the emotional fallout from it, has meant that hope has been absent in my life. I have come to the other side. I am not living at the whim of an author for dramatic effect. I am living in the real world with the complexities of real life. That means, contrary to what my feelings and flawed thinking have told me, it is not a life of black and white, either, or. There are degrees of suffering and shades of light of varying degrees.

Pain is necessary, it is a reaction to that which harms us, either physically, emotionally or spiritually. Suffering on the other hand is optional and not unending. This would have made me laugh a few years ago. For me, every day was suffering. I carried with me the pain of not just that day's sadnesses, but also the pain of my childhood and other historic wounds. They were not healing scars but open wounds, which were so sensitive to additional pain, that it was as if I would reopen the wounds with each new, perceived or real, hurt, however minor. For so many who I allowed to get close enough, it was puzzling that my emotional reactions to every day trials and tribulations were so out of proportion that my relationships with those people broke. They could not see that felt I was tethered to the constantly turning wheel of fire. This was my belief at the time - my lot in life is to suffer, simply because I must have done something 'wrong', or because I was intrinsically flawed in some way.

However, having recognised that, as the Bible says, 'sufficient unto the day is the grace thereof' (King James Version), we only need the ability to live that day's pain, I have started to live without that grinding, eroding sense of despair which comes from life in the wheel of fire. I have already survived my childhood, my twenties, my thirties, the past five years, the past month, week, day. Whatever pain contained in my life at that time, was experienced, in the moment, and now passed into history. To keep the pain alive is not to allow it to heal and will prolong my sense of suffering. In the light of this grinding despair, the impulses to self harm and self destruction are more readily understood. What helps me is the ability to recognise that I am not tied to the wheel of fire, I can step off it. I can choose to see my episodes of pain as just that - not the endless stream of misery that I have felt my life to be in the past.

The emotional and mental exhaustion with which I presented to mental health services, is a consequence of my mistaken belief that I had to carry the burden of all of my life's suffering in the present. Finding a way to give myself rest and respite of the unremitting pain I have felt all my life, has allowed me to view pain in the context of what gives my life meaning. For me it is my faith that helps me make sense of the world and my experience of it. For others, there may be different things which bring meaning to life's experiences. Until I allow myself to end the punishment of prolonging my own suffering, I will always be trapped in the wheel of fire. In order to do that, I must see myself with some compassion, to allow my wounds to heal into scars. Reminders of past experiences, without the constant reopening of old wounds which prolongs my suffering.

Sometimes I feel Sad - and that's OK

Most of my life was spent avoiding painful emotions, any dip in mood was met with a frantic increase in activity, avoidance and, frankly physically and emotionally draining 'coping mechanisms'which, if I'm honest, weren't particularly effective. At the time those coping skills, poor as they were in the long term, actually helped me to 'function'. The problem came as the cumulative effect of using my 'coping skills' became self destructive. I felt I had to keep using them because I was so in fear of the huge torrent of grief that had been dammed up for decades, that I believed my very life depended on me stopping myself from feeling, ANYTHING.

As I have described elsewhere in this blog, the use of those coping skills resulted in me being unable to feel anything. I had reached the point where not only was I lacking in any energy to keep going, but as my GP told me, if we looked under the 'bonnet' I would find that I had long been trying to function without 'any engine at all'.

Over the past five years since that point, I have slowly built up different sets of skills and found out that the huge emotional breakers I have feared for so long didn't kill me. It has not been an easy process, developing skills takes time, effort and determination. One of the first set of skills essential for me to learn and practice were the distress tolerance skills. If I know I am equipped to cope with the feelings I fear so much, then my very existence no longer depends on preventing myself from feeling.

As time has gone on, the importance of Distress Tolerance has reduced in proportion to the number of times I find myself in crisis. The second set of skills which dovetailed into the first was the Emotion Regulation Skills. In practice, the ability to identify and name the feelings I feared so much was one of the most important points in turning the corner from the way I had lived for so long. Rather than sitting frozen in fear of a fog of indefinable feelings, I can name my 'demons' and once named the sting is taken from them.

The sets of DBT skills along with the routine practice of Mindfulness have helped me to stop the constant rise and fall of difficult emotions, to give myself time experience them, without living in constant fear of being overwhelmed by them, so that I am able to effectively manage relationships which for so long were damaged and broken by the uncontrolled impact of my emotions.

The most vital fact I have needed to face up to is that I cannot escape emotions. Simply because they are part and parcel of being human, and I am in fact a human being, contrary to how alienated my emotional responses have made me feel. Emotions are an important part of the way I am built. All emotions have a function and actually are beneficial.

I have had to adjust my thinking about emotions from seeing them as some internal monster, ready at any point to wreak havoc on my life. As someone who, due to biological and social, environmental factors, is more emotionally sensitive than average, emotions have always loomed large. Due to the experience of trauma in childhood, there has been a significant amount of grief to manage. In the past that grief has been unresolved because most of my energy was focused on avoiding feeling it. If I cannot identify the grief, and name it, it can connect in an endless stream with any difficulties, or sadness I am feeling in the present. My baseline emotion is at a higher level than average, that means that I have always struggled with a high degree of underlying grief and sadness. So, it is understandable that even the most seemingly insignificant trigger to grief in the present may well lead to overwhelming waves of grief.

It has taken me three years of working on DBT skills to understand this about myself. If I struggle to understand why my responses are so extreme, how hard then, must it be for those around me? I think sometimes, this is what makes me feel like an alien, even when in the most supportive of company. I am only just beginning to be able to articulate this process for myself.

As I have moved along the path of recovery, I am learning to recognise sadness as an emotion in its own right. Rather than try to avoid feeling it, for fear of it connecting with the overwhelming grief of the past, I am learning to accept it for what it is in the here and now. The past and its experiences are done with. Sometimes I may still feel an echo of the grief of the past, but I no longer need to fear it as massive, rolling breaker, rising threatening above my head. The waves of sadness are more manageable as a result. Not only do I now possess the skills to manage my emotions, but I have learned to accept even sadness as an important part of being a human being. It's okay to feel sad, because sometimes there are things in the here and now to be sad about, and that's okay.

Stepping Over Our Wounds (via Henri Nouwen)

There is a struggle for those of us who bear the scars of old wounds. Each time a new hurt happens, it can rip open wounds, which remain fresh, because, instead of allowing the pain to fade and heal, in time, I know I have spent too long living with and feeding the underlying hurt by living and reliving the most painful of memories. It's as if I have a belief that I could 'undo' the past by remaining inside the trauma, condemning myself to be held captive in an never-ending 'time loop'.

I have a choice, to remain forever frozen in those moments of pain and so prolong the suffering, or accept that they have happened and will leave me with scars, reminders of what I have survived, but no longer capable of stopping me from moving forward. I found this meditation from Henri Nouwen helpful in explaining that choice and the moment when I can 'step over...' and move beyond the most difficult of experiences. I may be a product of my past but I do not have to be its prisoner:

'Sometimes we have to "step over" our anger, our jealousy, or our feelings of rejection and move on. The temptation is to get stuck in our negative emotions, poking around in them as if we belong there. Then we become the "offended one," "the forgotten one," or the "discarded one." Yes, we can get attached to these negative identities and even take morbid pleasure in them. It might be good to have a look at these dark feelings and explore where they come from, but there comes a moment to step over them, leave them behind and travel on.'

A note of caution if you find this thought of 'stepping over wounds' challenging - acceptance and moving on from the wounds of the distant past is not condoning all of the wrongs done to us, nor does it prevent us, if it is the right time and circumstances for us from seeking justice. What acceptance does is to help us recognise that no person, circumstance, substance or material possession will be able to undo the injustices and pain of the past. Nor does acceptance entirely remove the shadows cast by such traumas. What it allows us to do is accept that we have had the strength and courage to survive the worst. Having recognised that, we then have a choice: to remain trapped in the past, or to build on the strength and courage we have to live whatever life we choose, for ourselves. The prison door is open, but I still need to walk out of it, myself.

There are Still 'Bad' Days

The thing is, outside of my emotion fogged vision of 'how life should be', it's actually not easy for anyone. That little realisation has taken me so long to get to, it's not funny. We're all guilty of it; that conviction that 'everyone else' somehow is living a gilded, perfect life. The belief that 'if only...', my life would be problem free and perfect. As I have learned to deal with the nuclear emotional fallout from the combination of my biological predisposition and impact of social environments, I have learned to be less focused on my own storms and able to see more clearly the world and people around me. The grass is always greener...? Only if I am entirely focused on my internal struggles.

The impact of mindfulness is often described as suddenly feeling 'awake' to life in the here and now. For me, practising mindfulness and DBT skills is not about distancing myself from my experience of 'real' life. Rather, it is to replace coping mechanisms which cushioned me and separated me from both the environments and relationships I was living through. In a sense those skills which helped me survive trauma and the symptoms of mental illness, actually built a wall of 'bubble wrap' around me which became so deep that my emotional experience eventually became total 'numbness'. Recovery has meant that I am able to feel and experience life as it is. I do feel more aware and more awake to life more clearly. It is not distorted by either emotional responses which cause me to be terrified of my life experience, or those emotional responses which are so maniacally 'happy' that they deny the impact of real day to day difficulties which are part of life.

As I have moved from clinging on by my fingertips in the most terrible emotional storms, to a mix of calm and 'choppy' emotional experiences (ie 'normal' life), I have the energy to recognise more clearly life as it is in the here and now and, more importantly the emotional energy to cope with everyday ups and downs.

The picture I have in mind is the difference between the scenes from 'The Perfect Storm' where a small vessel is tossed about mercilessly and hopelessly on huge waves, beyond which it is impossible to see, to the kind of 'swell' which is more common, where waves can be felt and seen, but where the ultimate destination can be seen beyond. That is the difference between, 'before' and 'after' skills and learning how to use them to manage my emotions.

So, here I am at a time of year that is not the most uplifting, recognising that I am having a few 'bad' days. The difference for me now is that I can see beyond these days, that I am certain, 'this too will pass'. The other thing is that any fears I have that 'bad' days mean I am relapsing back to the previous 'Perfect Storm' days are unfounded. I have moved from merely surviving and existing, to a life which is meaningful and worthwhile. As long as I continue to build on the skills I have learned and use the helpful techniques that help me manage aspects of life that other people may take for granted, then my internal as well as external life will more closely reflect the life experience of most people.

The Sound of Silence....is it golden for you?

'Click, Click, Click' these used to be the first sounds to enter my consciousness as first the radio, then the TV and finally the phone were switched on. There was no point in my day when I was able to hear 'background sounds', or even the sound of silence. From the radio in my car to my ipod constantly plugged into my ears when working 'quietly' to everyone else's music or endless chatter, I never considered that my quiet times were anything but.

Three years on from beginning to practise DBT skills, and mindfulness in my daily life, I have found that there are many times when I am enveloped in the 'sound of silence'. Everyday, after the initial alarm, I potter around my house doing my daily chores and even eat, drink and read in 'silence'.

If I'm honest, I have only recently become comfortable with silence. In the past there was an urgency in blocking it out. So much energy was invested in damming up the feared internal distress that both physical and mental 'busyness' became an ingrained habit. In the same way that I invested every last drop of physical energy in my paid work, I invested all of my time alone in noise to drown out my internal distress.

There is a reason that some of the torture techniques recently reported from Guantanamo involve noise. Either incessant blaring music or 'white noise', but then again the difference between music and noise is in the ear of the beholder! Walking in nature without my ipod is relaxing simply because I am no longer forcing into my mind noise for fear that I will be overwhelmed by the internal noise within.

What has changed is the realisation that I no longer fear the feelings that used to overwhelm and defeat me. I have learned to move on from my past and my present is no longer burdened with long remembered hurts. Some emotional pain is justified but it becomes suffering when I allow it to mar my experience of more positive experiences in the here and now. Scars exist and are a natural part of having survived trauma, but they fail to heal if I keep tearing the scabs from them. If I can learn to accept the feelings without trying to drown them out with constant noise, then the rawness of the scars will lessen and heal without the underlying distress keeping the emotional pain fresh.

Silence has an important role to play in healing. In silence I find space to feel, think, reflect - important that it does not become brooding. This is where the disciplines of mindfulness give me the skills I need to make the most of silence. Focus on the immediate, the here and now, ground myself in the present and when feelings which are unconnected with my current moment arise, let them go. The fear of being unable to cope with silence goes, the more I practise non-judgemental, one thing at a time.

Something else which making room for silence does, is that it allows me to enjoy even more the times when I listen to music or watch something. When I am able to enjoy the silence, then I am able to experience and therefore enjoy the non silence even more. Silence and space allow me to enjoy the times and experiences which fill the silence. I can appreciate the night sky most when I am in an environment which is far from artificial light - when I am far from light pollution.

The problem with my previous fear of silence is that in an effort to run from it I cluttered my mind and emotions with noise and mental pollution. If I can give myself space and time to experience silence, then it allows me a purer experience of life when it comes into that silence. The other thing about 'silence' is that outside of a vacuum, which none of us live in, it is never absolute. There is always something we can listen to, if only we could switch off the artificial sounds with which we swamp ourselves!