Whose mind is it anyway? The realarticle

Once  upon a time I went on a journey to a place far, far away……… Further than any of my friends and family had ever been, in fact further than anyone had been, ever.

Further than rockets, space craft, satellites and deep space probes.
Beyond the range modern interstellar telescopes.
Beyond even the imagination of George Lucas, Arthur C. Clarke & H.G. Wells.
Surpassing even the reverential limits of God’s boundaries.
It was a terrifying place.

Pursued by demons that had an almost psychic knowledge of my every movement, before even I had decided on a plan of action,I found myself where I thought would be the only safe haven from earthly emotional pain i.e Outside the Universe.

It seemed as good a place as any to gather my fragmented thoughts.
Unbound by the shackles of scientific possibility and powered by the sincerity of psychotic insanity, it wasn’t difficult to get there, and traffic was extremely light.

It’s always the return journey that’s beset with problems.
Without any physical luggage to lose, I felt the extra burden of emotional baggage weighing much too heavily on my mind. As I floated in the hinterland between post-universe and the psychiatrists synthetic cocktail of compliance, a question burst into my mind, like a child into a parents bedroom on Xmas morning.

‘Who’s mind is it anyway?’

I’d been using (well abusing) that mind all my life and had, like everyone else, assumed ownership. (Obviously some people went a stage further and began assuming ownership of land, resources and other humans) but that’s another sad, ongoing tale.

Eventually it came to pass that my marbles had been misplaced. I wasn’t part of the mechanism of society, that runs so smoothly to enable fairness and equality for…well not all… well not even most.

OK I was a mental case! I still am and have come to the conclusion that the combination on my particular case is irreversibly broken.

Fast forward many moons, a myriad of psychiatrists, a million counsellors, a billion brainstorms and a mountain of medication and I’m cured!

Well almost…well, nearly…. well some days, for a short while.

In the words of the song “I am what I am!” but with the dubious bonus of being also partly what I am not. Confused yet? Imagine how it must be seeing it from the inside!

Anyway, you encounter places, ideas and people in your life and travels, which have far reaching long lasting effects. Sometimes they sneak in gently and quietly like a child returning to bed after hiding behind the curtain on Santa watch. Other times they flap wildly in your face and shout the roof off for your attention. Generally we focus too much on the noise and chaos, so we miss the subtle undertones shaping our destiny in the background.
So now when I look around to find a catalogue of ;writing, comedy, performances, videos, a website and a growing stock of diverse and interesting music, I am very proud, I give myself a gentle, cautious pat on the back while wondering how the hell it all happened.

More and more people are suffering mental illness, trauma and depression caused by the stress of modern life and our collective inability to adapt quickly to the sweeping changes taking place in technology, economy, ecology and humanity.

Mental pain is still a taboo subject, slowly being dragged reluctantly from the darkness, mainly by celebrities with a recovery book or a new range of empirical clothing to sell.
We have indeed advanced from the dark ages of hiding the lunatics in asylums designed to maximize isolation and instill the fear of madness into the masses.

We still think that passing high doses of electrical charge through a vulnerable brain is ethical. I have enough anecdotal evidence to strongly suggest that it is not in any way a cure and firmly believe it belongs in the realms of torture and cruelty toward those already tortured souls who we still fail to understand.

I write these thoughts as an addendum to the lyrics in my ‘requiem’ to the schizoid brain that I have harboured in my, sometimes unwilling head, all my life.

I’m sure it will strike a chord with many sufferers of similar debilitating psychoses, but also hope it can paint a clearer picture for those who are fortunately blessed with a healthy mind. Maybe they will garner a little more understanding of this complex yet frightening illness.
A philosopher type once opined;

“The mind is like an umbrella. It works best when fully open”.

If yours hasn’t been blown inside out during a previous storm, please enjoy my offering from a dry sheltered place.

To anyone who would like to discuss this subject further, please feel free to mail me at infoburybob@gmail.com or visit burybob.com