#004

 

The voices in my head are like a voice-over description of my life as I live it. 

There’s a famous quote from The Sixth Sense – I see dead people. Some of us where awestruck and completely twisted by the remark; others, like my ex-wife, could see it coming a mile off. That’s not the reason we divorced by the way. It threw audiences into a stupor back in 1999 and raised the expectation of every M. Night Shyalaman movie ever since. I don’t see dead people. But I hear voices in my head.

The story goes like this. Cue the Marlowe voiceover:

(The next voice you will hear is that of Humphrey Bogart in his portrayal of Philip Marlowe in The Big Sleep. Please try to stay awake)

When I was very young, I created people. Sort of like imaginary friends but I knew they weren’t there. I didn’t see them; I didn’t play on the swings talking to someone invisible. I had internal conversations that would sometimes pour out into the real world. These people were perhaps masks I wore, definitely alternate personalities of me that I had created and based on popular figures in culture at the time. For instance, I had an internal Luke Skywalker; a Bruce Willis; and a Marty McFly. I dressed like them and at times mimicked their behaviour to try and be cool. Sometimes it worked.

I guess I was trying so hard to not be me because I felt at odds with the world that I was travelling through.

BACKSTORY - Being sensitive in a world that is most acutely built for the success of the aggressor is damaging to confidence and self-belief. It may sound too generalist, but our world in the West primarily is the domain of the aggressive form of behaviour. Look at world leaders; Kings; Head of States. Successful business leaders and it trickles into sports. Being strong mentally is equalled with physical strength and toughness; not emotional intelligence and compassion. Therefore, the more sensitive people amongst us tend to be moderators, artists and tutors.

RETURN TO THE SCENE = With this realisation when I was young, and that I felt deeply emotional for no apparent reason at times, I created my own internal utopia; of course, that place had to be populated. So, who better than with people that had large personalities and talent that I admired and wanted to emulate? I loved films, I mainly went for film actors or characters.

The internal dialogue was born, like an invisible Meta-verse, which is probably why I loved Tron so much as a kid. I created, lived in, and spent most of my time in, my own world. Within that world I had conversations and those conversations became a part of my every day life. I laughed when something funny shot into my head; I felt fear, or anger, or sadness. I enjoyed my own company because I wasn’t alone. I was with friends, and there were times I longed to be released from the clutches of real people and return to my idea of paradise.

I hear voices. I am one now. (Who said that?) As my internal world grew the population increased, which is a natural occurrence. As family and friends died so they remained in my world. Their memories giving me strength and purpose, as well as the fear and pain. There were bad people, like bullies or negative ones who had hurt me; there were heroes, like John McClane in a vest; and there were those that loved me and I loved them. I’m over forty now, I’ve been building for years. There’s a lot of noise.

CUT TO A TALE OF SADNESS AND DESPAIR.

Years ago, I was in a desperately sad place and close to suicide. My children were young; I was living with my partner in a flat and I saw my kids once a week. I was not working; I was too mentally “ill” to work. I cleaned most of the time and was grateful that Netflix had just become a thing. My partner worked full-time and I would spend days alone, watching the hours tick by. It was one winter day and the kids had stayed overnight, which was the norm. I would then take them to school and return home to an empty flat. I was alone. I would make breakfast, maybe put the radio on, read a bit or tidy up and by the time midday had come their presence seemed like a lifetime ago. It was then that one of the voices piped up an idea that would come to haunt me to this day: what if your children were a figment of your imagination?

What if you had made them up?

I was floored. In my emotional state I struggled with reality and memory anyway and this was something huge that had potential to tip me over the edge. It didn’t stop there, once that seed was sown the voice grew in confidence and began to question the existence of my partner, of others that had been in my life. The reasoning was that I was a writer, I created people all of the time, so how difficult would it be to create and believe that I had children, or a partner, or an ex-wife or anyone.

I spent the rest of the day in emotional agony until my partner returned home to find me in a mess. I created a mess.

After that the question was ever present. When the kids stayed over, I would leave the aftermath of their presence for days. Pyjamas lying around; dinner plates on the side. Games we had enjoyed. I would take photos as evidence; I would leave their bed unmade.

I had history with this. Years before when I lived with a girl she went on holiday and so I didn’t feel alone I kept her plate of food on the floor where she had placed it the night before she left.

This was the norm for me. I even asked my kids to write something in a book, a message in their handwriting, in their own words, to prove to myself that I had not created the empty plates and the pyjamas on the floor. It was a complete question about the reality of life. I was mad; unhinged, like Martin Riggs in Lethal Weapon, I was a lethal weapon of madness.

TO PRESENT DAY

I still am. The truth is that question remains, and when I feel low it lures its ugly head up again. It took years for me to find a balance with this. However, I still keep evidence, everything they have done or given me is kept in a box. I continue to fight with this voice over what is real, and what is not. But, what is real, really?

The voices in my head are like a voice-over description of my life as I live it. This story will continue.  

Zac Thraves is a performer and speaker on his struggles with mental health. He's alive, like Gordon.

Check out my PODCAST - The Outsiders...on Spotify right HERE Welcome to The Outsiders. A beautiful Podcast about exploring how it feels to be someone who has never felt a part of this big picture. I’m an HSP, this is our world…

#003

 

Over the weekend I acted as a sous chef as my son made lasagne. I was teaching him how to make it, but I wanted him to actually do it all. It was great fun, and he took to the task. I explained the processes, that he was making a sauce and then a pie, and how he could change the ingredients to his taste; that this was a guide, and from here he can do his own take on it. Why did I want him to make a lasagne? Because I wanted him to be self-sufficient when it comes to life.

I had friends in a past life who did not, or could not, cook. Some of them had this strange and outdated notion that a woman does all the home stuff and a man goes to work. My parents never subscribed to this mantra thankfully, so it was never on my radar to see it as weird that a man can load a washing machine. I can load a washing machine, and if my son can’t he soon will be able to. He is only fifteen, so there’s plenty of time. The big goal for me is independence, because life throws all sorts of curveballs at you and it is very important, I believe, to be self-sufficient.

I was given the tools by my parents to be independent. I cooked from an early age and was shown various household chores that enabled me to perfect this to my standard when I eventually moved out and into the big world of rent. Then I was on my own, but I did not feel lonely. That emotion would rear its head when the girl I had moved in with broke up with me, and then came back, and then went on holiday for a week and I was alone, deeply alone in the flat. That was a breaking point inside me, a moment when the dark emotions inside me wrapped their tentacles around my mind and started to gain more power.

Which means that while I revel in independence...

Being alone in company is different to being alone. Being alone can be rewarding, liberating and exciting. Feeling alone is something completely different. I have developed an idea in my head that I am scared to feel alone. When I am alone, it exacerbates.

I remember years ago watching the days end. I would dread the sun going down and losing the daylight. Night would mean the end of another day, another part of life gone. I was alone, and the loneliness would envelop me, wrap me up into a dark blanket and I would yearn for what happened two hours ago, three hours ago, or earlier in the morning. I would be alone all day while my partner would be at work, and after a few hours alone I would start to think that she was part of my imagination.

I was in a desperately bad place at the time emotionally. This was a time of suicidal thoughts and self-harm; a time of uncontrollable emotional outbursts and wild thinking. But once my mind had grabbed the notion that I had made people up, I struggled to let it go.

Seeing myself as a highly sensitive person has opened my eyes to my behaviours over the years. While it is easy to blame others, such as the girlfriend for playing emotional games, or for my depression for playing with my mind, it actually all comes back to me. Because of my sensitive emotions there are, and were, situations that I find overwhelming. Over the years, and because I had not acknowledged them, events have amassed an idea that I cannot be alone. I can, but I struggle, but then I now have evidence that I have survived on my own. It still hurts though. My partner has recently been on a training course leaving me alone for two nights. My imagination took control and I was dreading being alone. However, I took it one moment at a time and filled my days with work stuff and fun stuff. It made the time go quicker, and it made me feel much better. I was alone but not lonely, because I had quite a good time in my own company.

I did talk to myself a lot, which I think is a trait for many HSP’s.

That was being alone and being really alone. But feeling alone in company is another thing entirely. In this scenario there is no escaping the thought that you do not fit in to the world that is around you.

Now, to feel alone in company truly hurts. There is only one way out of this, and it is life changing. This means that the place you are in, and the people you are with, are not your people. You are the alien, the outcast, the oddity. It’s a horrible feeling when you see that, and when you look around the room at others deep in conversation about something that you find shallow, or boring. 

I was always drawn to people of eccentricity. Artists who did it alone, and then continued alone. Because I felt alone. I felt a kinship with artists like Van Gogh; with performers like Andy Kaufman, and with singers like Prince. All of whom may have had people around them, but their minds were on their own. I knew this when I would attempt to join in some conversation and kill it dead or deliver a curveball that would cause confusion. I was the eccentric, which is why I felt a draw to others who were the same.

As you get older this sort of behaviour becomes endearing to others. When you are a twenty-something it’s not so, and you are seen as a bit weird. I have always felt like I was sitting on the edge of society watching others be cool and popular and wondering why I can’t be like that. The simple answer is, because I am not that person.

I removed myself from those social circles where I felt alone and created new models for my world. It is not an easy process, and it takes time and pain. But through understanding what it is that makes me the person I am I have reached a place where I accept, even if I don’t sometimes understand, why I do what I do and behave the way I behave. It comes with age, and it comes with experience. But it also comes from learning to love who you are in the first place, and to stop comparing yourself to others.

I taught my son a recipe for lasagne, you never know, he could wow some dinner guests with it sometime in the future. It was a recipe I learned in Milan, so it can’t be all bad. 

Zac Thraves is a writer and performer, who speaks out on the stigma of mental health. Check out my brand new PODCAST, on Spotify - right here The Outsiders Podcast

#002

 

The Overwhelm of Overwhelm

 

Do you agree with that theory? Let me give you the lowdown and then you can see if your perspective on the matter, your matter, has changed.

Last week I was driving in London. I don’t like London. I don’t like the smell; I don’t like the people; I don’t like the attitude. I live in Kent, and have done all of my life. I’m used to country lanes and people smiling as you walk past them. I’m not used to pavements being packed with people fighting for a way through. It’s too aggressive, too impersonal and just plain selfish. Hey, but it’s always been like this…well that doesn’t mean it’s right. It’s an attitude that sums up our philosophy in the West, sort of, fuck everyone else, this is all about me.

That’s not what I’m about.

I had to drive through central London. The attitude of the pavement is also true of the road. People in cars think that they are the most important thing on the planet and will do anything, I mean literally crumple their car, to get ahead of you. It is stressful, deeply unpleasant, and utterly unnecessary.

I got stressed. I was overwhelmed with cars coming at me from all sides; people stepping out into the road thinking that they are stronger than a chunk of metal; and buses just pulling out with no thought to any other traffic. It was a sensory overload and I hated every single minute of it.

I was overwhelmed.

I recently read a book about The Highly Sensitive Person by Elaine Aron, and you can take a quiz in the book to find out if this refers to you. I scored very highly on the test, and it left little doubt in my mind that I was indeed an HSP. Suddenly things made sense; my reaction to certain things, my emotional response to certain things. I was hit with the reality that it wasn’t me being stupid or weak, it was a thing, some people are born with this. It’s a sensory overload that causes anxiety and overwhelm.

There I was in the car getting ready to scream and my partner next to me trying to calm me down by helping but it wasn’t helping because her talking was more sensory overload that I couldn’t handle and Mrs Google trying to guide me through the city and that was a sensory overload and then I took the wrong turn and then cars were coming at me again and POP! I exploded!

My training had let me down. I was no longer connected to The Force. I was losing points for stamina and confidence and my skill level took a lethal hit. My energy instantly lowered and I felt weak, truly weak. Had I not been in the driving seat of a car in the middle of a city I had every intention of getting out of as quickly as possible; I would have hit shut down and hibernated to regather strength.

I was done. But I continued on the journey and we got home safely.

As the days past and my confidence recovered, because yes it does take time for some people, I began to see that in the midst of the moment I had a choice. I ran it past myself in the only way I can, and that is by using some tenuous link to the arts, and I picked up an old Choose Your Own Adventure book.

Fighting Fantasy were huge when I was a mere smaller version of myself. Ian Livingstone and Steve Jackson were my literary gods for a time. I was also an avid reader of Way of the Tiger and Lone Wolf. I still have a couple of the old books from those days, my favourite, APPOINTMENT WITH F.E.A.R. was published in 1985.

I picked it up, and leafed through the aged pages and saw overwhelm in a different light.

We always have a choice. Like the books, like video games, we have to make decisions based on the current situation and possible outcomes. We choose instinctively but not always for the best. Most of our choices are based on previous reactions and outcomes, or what we have been taught or shown.

I chose to shut myself down to a level where I could get us out of the situation safely, but reduce all forms of noise. It was not the best option, and it caused an argument with my partner that caused me to further shut down. Now, days later, I do see that a choice could have been made for the better.

139

You hit the crossroads. All around you, cars beep and sirens scream and you can feel your heart race. You are entering panic mode, waves of anxiety push through your mind. Your body reacts physically, making it difficult to breathe and to focus. But you have to do something otherwise you will be stuck in the city forever.

If you choose to get out of the car turn to page 93. If you have Mindfulness Skill and choose to use that then lose 2 skill points and turn to page 54. If you choose to slam your foot on the accelerator and race away as quickly as possible turn to page 241. If you choose to remain still, turn to page 98.

 

We always have a choice. My overwhelm may not have been a choice, because that was due to my high sensitivity which was hereditary; but my reaction was a choice. I chose to tell my partner to shut up. That was not a good choice. It hurt her and it hurt me that I had hurt her. Of the above choices which one would you think is the better? I reckon turning to page 54 would have been the correct choice.

It's so hard to know that we have a choice in everything we do; especially when it comes to our emotions. Yet we do. We cannot do anything about our thoughts, good or bad they will be there and they should be there. If you have bad thoughts of harming or suicide like I do, I can tell you from my experience that this will not change; not even with medication. However, you can choose your reaction to those thoughts. You have a choice all of the time. You choose to laugh, cry, be calm, get angry, be anxious. These are all options on the table of life and you pick one to satisfy the situation. When you get it wrong you then choose to feel guilty and internalise your emotions to effectively cut yourself off from those that love you. It’s all a choice. Sorry, when I say you, I mean me.

Life is a game. Life is full of options and choices and we do it every day. You want eggs or bacon? Choice. You want tea of coffee? Choice. You want to wake up and go to work or stay home and then face the consequences? Choice.

Practice your choice making skills on Choose Your Own Adventure books. You can still get them, online or in book shops. Then practice your choice making skills with meditation. Unlock your imagination to see possible outcomes in your life and then trust your instinct, your heart, your soul.

If you want to get mad then get mad, but do it knowing that you chose that, and you must then deal with the outcome. There is no right or wrong, there only is. As long as it is true to you, then it is the right thing for you.

 

 

#001

BULLIES vs HUMANITY

We are a world resplendent in bullies. 

 The UK has Boris Johnson, who is a school playground bully; the US has Donald Trump, who is a Big Mac bully; little North Korea even has one, as does Canada should Twitter be believed. But there is one who stands tall amongst those men, one who has added immorality, inhumanity and isolation to his character CV, step forward Lard of all Bullies – the putin bully. 

Why do we put up with bullies? It’s a conundrum I have wrestled with all of my life. At school I had many a conversation with a bully. I was punched in the face by one - fact. 

At work I was abused by a bully who was fuelled in his ‘bullism’ by alcohol. He was a nasty, shitty little man, who not only abused me mentally and physically but also beat his beautiful girlfriend. I don’t know where he is, and frankly I don’t care. I do hope that he has stopped this ridiculous idea that being nasty gets results. Just like the putin bully needs to do. 

 You will be surprised to know that the origin of bully is a term of endearment, from the Dutch, Boele, meaning lover. It then became a term for a friendly male; it’s current use dates from the 17th Century, and originates from swaggering coward.

More recently it has been used as an abusive term because these swaggering cowards become violent in their behaviour when they don’t get what they want. Like naughty children who have been too spoiled by parents. We could sit here and argue about the psychology of it; and that these poor swaggering cowards probably had poor swaggering cowards for fathers and a tough upbringing. Bullshit. 

Bullies have no morals, no responsibility for their behaviour and they look at others with contempt. I say this behaviour has to stop, and humanity coming together is a wonderful backlash to such a selfish and disgraceful idea of life. There, we’ve given bullies a platform, now let’s give peace and love a platform. 

Because it is that which is pushing the putin Bully back in Ukraine at the moment. We don’t fight fire with fire, we fight fire with water. We dampen this evil ideology until it becomes sodden to the point of over-saturation and it disappears into a vast vat of nothingness. 

 What has been so uplifting and remarkable recently is seeing the people of the world come together, a unity with one goal – PEACE. Humanity is a wonderful thing, when we get it right. 

Currently we are getting it right despite attempts to divide humanity with fake news and hatred. It would appear not to have worked. Finally, news reporters are seeing the same as the people on the streets. Finally love and peace are getting attention instead of anger and hate. It is love and peace which will defeat the putin bully and unite the world even more. 

 Peace and love are key for the emotional wellbeing of our future. We should not be fuelled by hate, by need, or want; instead, be fuelled by passion, peace and happiness. 

We share one world, which hangs precariously in a vast airless void. Life is precious, and yet for some it seems expendable. Each life that is born on this planet has a right to it, to live, to smile and to create a life worth living. This is what we should be striving for – opportunities for all; peace; kindness and joy. 

We have gone backwards as a society, which means we need to change the cycle and do this stuff differently. We are emotional as a rule, that is how we are wired. When we are threatened we unite, historically this happens. 

It is happening now. It is our emotional response to fear and violence. We come together as a family, a unit, a community and a world. 

Charlie Chaplin delivered a beautiful speech in his 1941 film The Great Dictator, a film it would seem the putin bully has not seen. In wonderful prose he delivers a speech at a rally loosely based on the hitler bully’s nazi rallies. He says that “We want to live by each other’s happiness - not by each other’s misery.” He goes on to talk about the current level of humanity and how it is shamed – 

Because it is our united humanity which will come through. Each of us can step forward as a show of defiance and stand tall against the bullies of the world. 

The person who bullied me at work was eventually sacked. He was caught, drunk, pushing me around in the auditorium of the theatre I worked at. His actions united the team against him; and my stage manager, suspecting something, ensured that I was being watched which is how he was caught in the act. He was marched off the premises, and never returned. No apology, although I expected none. He did try to excuse his way out of his behaviour, saying it was fun, a laugh, no-one was hurt. That’s the script they all take. Because bullies do hurt people, and it is a very long way from being fun. However, to hate him would be too easy. To forgive him would depend on his actions; and I never saw him again. 

It is an awful, terrifying time for the world. But I truly believe in the power we have within and the power of love. We can all do our bit to support each other, and to turn these bullies minds towards a happier, prosperous and peaceful ideology. In this world everyone has a chance to be free. Let’s make it so. 

 

You can view the full speech from The Great Dictator, by clicking this link to Chaplin's website. 

Zac Thraves is an Inspirational Speaker, performer and mental health warrior who writes and creates using pop culture to raise our awareness of who we really are inside. It takes imagination to make your life successful. Create your reality, get real. 

My book is called The Self-Harming Pacifist - a sequel is on the way, and a stage show.