Spiritual Experiences are a mental Health issue now?

Spiritual Experiences are now psychotic episodes to be drugged out of you.

I was working the other day and my partner was working too with the news in the background and the newsreader was interviewing some people who’d experienced psychotic episodes and were successfully (or somewhat successfully) being treated for it.

The first man spoke fairly lengthily on the fact that he had been hearing the and feeling ‘god’ as he went for walks, in the trees, in the song of the leaves, and felt he knew all the secrets of the universe. My partner says, ‘Sounds more like he was having an awakening.’

I said, ‘Hmm. Yes.’

This man was so adamant that this was wrong, that he was having a massive mental breakdown that needed to be met by drugs, and it made me sad. I felt this a lot when I was young. My childhood is split into two parts. Before I was ten (when I lived in the country) and after, when we moved into a nearby town and everything seemed to go down the toilet for me.

when I lived in the country I walked, on my own, from a very young age, all over the local area, through the fields and woods, beside the streams, and I experienced moments like this man described very often. I could stand and look at the petals of a wildflower and see its aura, and be possessed by the most immense and radiant joy. I would tell this to my Nan, who would never have dreamed of carting me off to a doctor. She said I was seeing ‘reality’. I believe I was. I certainly could see her aura, a white gold around her. I would feel, when in the woods, as if I was surrounded by presences, not benign exactly and not ‘evil’, but thee, watching me, and in a way, watching over me. At times I used to see them, in a way, like Tolkien’s Elves, (probably why when I first read The Lord of the Rings I said, ‘Oh, my god, he wrote this for me!’ — not that I meant he really write it for me, but as if he knew my mind and the things I had seen.

I felt cut off from all that wonder and mystery when we moved. We’d lived as a big extended family, so my Nan, my uncles and aunts still lived in the country, but my parents, sibs and I moved into town. I hated the concrete, the peering close-built houses, the mass of people and kept getting ill. When I was ill my mum used to take me back out to my Nan’s until I was better, so don’t tell me that was not psychosomatic illness. I was also sexually abused for a year by a neighbour’s son, something that affected me for years after. I ran away from school — ran all the way back to my Nan’s once, walked 20 miles — because I was bullied and just could not cope with it or the kids, the loudness, or anything about the town at all.

But anyhow, there were other people on this news programme who related their psychosis — being ‘followed’ etc, and I worked for some time in the Mental Health dept of the local council and some of their symptoms yes, did sound as if they needed meds for it. At least for their terrible fear. (I’m also aware that anti-depressants and anti-psychotics are not the same. I know one poor guy on about 6 different meds for depression and psychosis — and meds on top of that because of the side-effects of the meds who sleeps, eats, sleeps and that is his entire life).

But are we going to come to the point where people who have ‘spiritual’ experiences rush off to the doctors to get medicated out of it? I’ve been on anti depressants. I slept most of three years and had terrible side effects, and then came off and had perfectly ghastly withdrawal symptoms that took six months to fade. I cannot get those years back, and the meds did not help in the least. I also could not write. I felt if more than half of me had died. They don’t tackle the route cause, or didn’t in my case. And never, ever, would I have considered I needed to be drugged out of a spiritual state of mind. Neither would anyone in my family have considered I needed help for it. Hah! Well, my dad, maybe, but after a certain age he was not around much.

This man on the news, who hated his ‘symptoms’ (hated it with a dead-faced Hawkin-esque loathing) would call every single person whose blog I read completely disturbed, downright mad and in need of help. I embrace spiritual experiences myself, always have done, at least any like that, feeling a ‘oneness’ with the world. To me, that was revelation; that was joy! Not that I’ve ever heard the voice of god/s, but sometimes things that are just as inexplicable, and just as profound. But now, it seems, dreams, visions, trance, moments of ‘mindfulness’, deep meditation — all this is going to be labelled as a mental health issue, treatable by a chemical cosh? I found myself after stopping my meds; I could write, imagine, experience. I was not ‘dulled’ out of it any more. I didn’t feel like a zombie.

It seems to be the human race is terrified and going backward at an appalling rate. Why the hell are people so frightened their might be more than this earth, what we can see, tase, touch and hear? Everything we see is filtered through our eyes anyway, and is ‘seen’ by our brain/mind, and we, as humans cannot see ‘everything’ — so what are we even seeing? reality, or what we perceive as real? Is it because we strive for control and there are things that we very definitely cannot control?


Maglor and Vanimórë by Kaprriss

I am so lucky to have found Anastasia; she says that creating the art is like using an Ouija board, as she seems to get the ‘sense’ of everything I tell her and knows the characters.


After Vanimórë nursed Maglor back to health in Barad-dûr, with Sauron having been ‘invited’ to Númenor.

And a lovely gift from her, Vanimórë’s father, Mairon/Sauron/Annatar

With that look as if he is saying ‘What should I do with you, now?’

Winter Solstice 

Not a winter fan; I love the long, lingering twilights, the soft summer evenings, so when we reach this date, I am relieved, because the nights will now start to draw out.  It would be nice to get out to Avebury, which is only 8-odd miles away, and a much nice place than Stonehenge, but work! 

Anyhow, lots of love and good thoughts to all ❤ 

Vanimórë and Maglor in Barad-dûr

Who was he? A thrall who bore himself like a king, who loved like a storm, who held him when he slept. Maglor felt he should know him, wanted to ask who he was, but what did he need to know? This man served the dark albeit, Maglor thought, unwillingly. The brand of the Eye was no mere decoration; heat poured forth from it. There was sorcery at work here, and Maglor wanted to believe it was sorcery that demolished his will to fight the thrall’s seduction. But that would have been a lie.

He needed it.
“Thou wilt never forget the torment,” the thrall said, and his eyes were serious then, even tender. “But I will give thee something else to remember, beauty.”
I will give thee myself.
And he did.
Dark Prince: The Darkness Has Its Own Light.