Bad me? Learning from, and living with, toxicity

Abstract

There are some parts of my experience that I have been able to put into words. As hard as it was, in the early days, to talk openly about the voices I hear and paranoia I’ve struggled with, the growing vocabulary I’ve been introduced to as part of the Hearing Voices and Survivor Movements have provided a template for my own explorations. I’ve had the benefit of hearing others struggle to find words for their truths, twisting language to fit something that goes far beyond our attempts to contain or constrain it. Sure, “hearing voices” is a shallow term for what – to me – can be an embodied multi-sensory experience, yet at least it is connective … linking me with other voice-hearers across the globe. In this article I’m going to attempt to share that which does not yet fully have words – experiences that sit outside of my well-honed narrative. Experiences that reveal a part of myself that is raw and vulnerable – yet carries such strength it is immune to the attempts of others to negate it. Today, I want to talk about my toxicity.