Whilst scribbling, thinking how to illustrate blood around the opening and all the bruising. I glanced across to where my plate of toast lay, there was an unopened jam. I rushed out, shutting the door and went into the ward kitchen. Grabbing a plate, I placed bread, and a handful of assorted little plastic tubs of jam, strawberry, raspberry, and blackcurrant on to it. In my mind, the lighter blood could be the raspberry, where it had darkened was the strawberry, and where it had congealed, and gone thick was the blackcurrant. The creativity completely took over. I used the blackcurrant where I knew the blood would be thick and dark, and enhanced it with the others. This inspired me, as it looked realistic, the jam making it three-dimensional. It also brought home the horrors I had endured, and I quickly drew the man's car cigarette lighter, whirling the pencil, creating the inner coils. Then I coloured it with the strawberry jam to make it red hot, drawing z's from it indicating the heat. Over the sink was a wide space, and I used it to demonstrate the knife the man used, not big but effective, using raspberry jam on the sharp end. I was well pleased, as my drawings to me, could not have been more realistic of the past. I could see the knife just edging out his pocket, it was ironic it was a Swiss one.
I was now married to a Swiss man who was lovely. I continued to draw from my memories. A corded patterned rope, a cross representing the many times I did not think I would live, pausing, I then drew a cloud of blackness and some child's feet coming out with two big adult ones above and in between them. The contrast of the small feet to the big was making my heart lurch at the vulnerability. Behind the door, I quickly drew my safety get away, my tranquil quarry, and trees, having no turquoise; I relied on the pencil to make it real. I wrote RIP on the cross, reminding me of my little baby cousin who had died so tragically and I drew a small child's coffin for him. Lying back on the hospital bed looking up at the legs in the corner, I thought I could not be more descriptive. Then I caught sight of my dressing gown belt, and had another idea. I formed a noose with it, and hung it from the ceiling. He had used it around my neck. I now had used as much creativity as I could to express the horrors, without passing out or shaking. I put it down to concentrating on completing a work of art, rather than the reality of it all.
As I looked at it, I did not see the horror it truly represented. I saw a piece of work that I had managed to do, to fulfil Dr Lynn's wishes. The door opened and Abdul, a Muslim male nurse came in. He was always lovely, and had come to say hello. He took one look at my room, and ran out, then nurse after nurse were popping their heads through the door. I lay on my bed, thinking I had done a good job for Dr Lynn, but was now getting worried about the reaction it was causing.
"This is a courageous and moving story written by a courageous woman,
in which she describes vividly her experiences of some of the best and the
worst of human behaviour. It should provide help and insight to many
people who are enduring mental suffering. It is a powerful lesson for
those who live with, care and provide support for people with mental
disturbance and those who administer health-care systems."
Prof. FrederickToates and Dr.Olga Coschug-Toates
co-authors of
`Obsessive Compulsive Behaviour'
Whilst scribbling, thinking how to illustrate blood around the opening and all the bruising. I glanced across to where my plate of toast lay, there was an unopened jam. I rushed out, shutting the door and went into the ward kitchen. Grabbing a plate, I placed bread, and a handful of assorted little plastic tubs of jam, strawberry, raspberry, and blackcurrant on to it. In my mind, the lighter blood could be the raspberry, where it had darkened was the strawberry, and where it had congealed, and gone thick was the blackcurrant. The creativity completely took over. I used the blackcurrant where I knew the blood would be thick and dark, and enhanced it with the others. This inspired me, as it looked realistic, the jam making it three-dimensional. It also brought home the horrors I had endured, and I quickly drew the man's car cigarette lighter, whirling the pencil, creating the inner coils. Then I coloured it with the strawberry jam to make it red hot, drawing z's from it indicating the heat. Over the sink was a wide space, and I used it to demonstrate the knife the man used, not big but effective, using raspberry jam on the sharp end. I was well pleased, as my drawings to me, could not have been more realistic of the past. I could see the knife just edging out his pocket, it was ironic it was a Swiss one.
I was now married to a Swiss man who was lovely. I continued to draw from my memories. A corded patterned rope, a cross representing the many times I did not think I would live, pausing, I then drew a cloud of blackness and some child's feet coming out with two big adult ones above and in between them. The contrast of the small feet to the big was making my heart lurch at the vulnerability. Behind the door, I quickly drew my safety get away, my tranquil quarry, and trees, having no turquoise; I relied on the pencil to make it real. I wrote RIP on the cross, reminding me of my little baby cousin who had died so tragically and I drew a small child's coffin for him. Lying back on the hospital bed looking up at the legs in the corner, I thought I could not be more descriptive. Then I caught sight of my dressing gown belt, and had another idea. I formed a noose with it, and hung it from the ceiling. He had used it around my neck. I now had used as much creativity as I could to express the horrors, without passing out or shaking. I put it down to concentrating on completing a work of art, rather than the reality of it all.
As I looked at it, I did not see the horror it truly represented. I saw a piece of work that I had managed to do, to fulfil Dr Lynn's wishes. The door opened and Abdul, a Muslim male nurse came in. He was always lovely, and had come to say hello. He took one look at my room, and ran out, then nurse after nurse were popping their heads through the door. I lay on my bed, thinking I had done a good job for Dr Lynn, but was now getting worried about the reaction it was causing.
--This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.