Publications

 

Jolanta Janik

 

„To recover” 

 

You need to take up daily trudge

 To laborously take up life - to build anew

 Your world

Slowly, slowly, day after day, repeat again and again

 The same

 You cannot sit idly

 To recover

You need to go and meet the Hope halfway

 

 

 

 

 


In search …

 

 

There once lived a girl, a bit of a dreamer, she liked playing with life. One day she landed up in hell. Before that, she was falling and falling down for a long time. Everything was spinning around her, the inner and outside world were tangling and became one vast chaos, without any anchorages. She rolled through a hell of agonizing pain, a hell of pervasive fear and a hell of total madness. When she finally passed it, she found herself on a verge of an abyss. At the very bottom of it she met death. - So, the game is over - you are done. - Death started to weave a cobweb of words, which were to make the girl to submit to it, just like other souls did, who at this moment give up their resistance. They follow death and never stand up a chance again of seeing who they could become. They freeze in the state they end up here, slowly fading, and almost imperceptibly withering away, to the point of becoming a hollow, burnt-out shell.

The girl, however, cannot believe it is over. - There lived once a Human Being, who took at His shoulders all evil, lack of hope and all atrocities, which people do each other, He was thrown into the vale of tears and refused to submit to death. He showed that there was a bigger power than death, and it suffices to believe it, and all the might of death will disappear. This is absolute Goodness, omnipotent Love and infinite Mercy. The moment the girl realises it, she is able to look death in the eye. The spell is broken. She can go away. Unfortunately, to meet death she was pushed into three circles of hell. To liberate from death for ever, she has to go through them.

At the very beginning, what awaits her is the hell of total madness. Before, she did not have any choice. Her senses gave out, she wandered around in a horrible uncertainty what was real and what was merely a figment of her imagination. Now she has a choice. She does not have to go there. In all conscience of atrocious consequence of losing her way, she immerses again in the madness. Now it is different though. She is aware that these caricatures of reality are merely deception of senses, and sooner or later they will come to an end. And indeed - when she refuses to submit to them, illusions slowly fade away, carrying away with them fragments of the void which used to fill her. The girl starts also to regain her inner sight, although she did not realise that she had lost it.

Then comes the hell of fear. The girl has resisted death, what else can she be afraid of? It turned out that years of living among people had filled her with bitterness, she stopped to trust her own ability, as she believed she was evil, and that - just like the others - if she indulges herself, she will start to claw her way, suck life energy from people, giving them nothing in return. Fear paralyses a man. It surrounds one from all directions, and somewhere in the dark a mirror lurks, which cannot reflect anything but her true face, a face of a monster. She did however regain a part of her inner sight and can see that there is something wrong with the mirror. She is filled with affection. - It is me after all, that’s tough! The mirror cannot lie anyway, there is nothing left to do than lovefully reconcile with the image it reflects. - Along with this thought, the girl feels an outflow of fear, which takes away with it another part of the void. Her head lightens up. She throws the last glance into the mirror. She can see there a haggard but calm face of an ordinary woman. The monster disappeared, same as the illusion, which it actually was.

The girl goes further. Pain. Why should she feel pain? It is ridiculous. She is young, quite happy, sometimes it gets better and sometimes it gets worse, but for the most part she gets along quite well. Suddenly she feels it. A mighty, overwhelming pain of the soul, that is dwarfing everything else. It comprises all wounds which happened to her in her life, but again, the girl feels there is something weird in it. Most of the wounds healed long ago, leaving only small scars. Not many should be bleeding now, maybe some tiny part - these are some bigger problems she did not manage to cope with in her life. But they have never been so big, as the pain suggests. The pain which tells her to escape as soon as possible, to forget, and never come back, even if the mightily exaggerated problems were to poison the whole remaining part of her existence. Overcoming the pain and meeting it halfway, she touches her wounds one after one; she realises the reasons behind them, accepting them and forgiving. Subsequent wounds fade, also the pain wanes away. What is left at the end is the inferiority complex. Now she only has to look carefully at it, and simply realise that she is a being of merit.

 

Adriana Kawecka

 

Hapiness of an Unhappy Man

 

I. Self-presentation

 My name is Artur, and at the moment of writing this text I am 40 years old. I was psychiatrically hospitalised several times, as a result of psychosis, although I did not consent fully to my hospitalisations. I have, however, attained a therapeutic success and I would like to share my story. During the times of mental health I graduated from a certain university, after five years of uniform master studies in the faculty of pedagogics, having also accomplished 9 terms of psychological studies at the same university. The latter faculty I unfortunately had to give up, due to some misunderstandings with people, caused by mental disorders brought about by cheating at appropriate medication intake.

II. What are my illnesses?

1. Infantile cerebral palsy 

2. Glaucoma

3. Atopic dermatitis

4. Paranoid schizophrenia, but this diagnosis was withdrawn, after my full recovery to emotional and mental ability, confirmed by scientific success.

Despite all those illnesses, today I find myself a happy person, who knows his place in the society and is needed by this society.

The therapy led by a team of one of the psychiatric centres from Bydgoszcz and its director enabled me to:

a. Finish an 8-year-long stage of life, filled with thinking about suicide, planning it, and even making psychodrama of very emotional pretending to commit it,

b. Find a meaning of life, purpose and value of life in the society and for the society,

c. Attain intellectual successes, described in more detail at a further part of the text,

d. Mend relations - which are now one of the most fulfilling values in my life - with the loved ones, weakened by delusions caused by lack of medication intake.

 III. To whom this note is targeted?

This position is targeted above all to those who resist psychiatric therapy, in particular after they become closed on a psychiatric ward, to put it mildly - not necessarily according to their will, and are not suffering from neurodegenerational psychosis, like for example Alzheimer disease or Pick disease. Psychoses of neurodegereratinal background bode always ill. Persons who have to be enforcedly put in a psychiatric ward do not have an insight into their psychotic symptoms. Quite often these symptoms emerge because of many wounds such persons have in their pre-illness life-story, while power play from their environment poses another wound, injuring their dignity, closing such persons for attempts of people in their community to help such patients. Train of thought of persons raped in this way seems to go this way: „How is that? I have been harmed the whole life, and in addition now they tell me that I am crazy. Never ever. Let them take care of the tormentors.”

R.U.