1. This is my church, this is where I heal my hurts - Faithless
After being diagnosed with one of those ‘severe and enduring’ mental illnesses
many begin to define themselves by their psychiatric label. They may call
themselves schizophrenic or manic depressive and in so doing often confirm the
chronicity inherent to those labels. I found my role in life had changed, I lost a job
of 19 years and could easily find myself feeling devalued by those closest to me. I
am by way of being a martial artist and when I found myself subject to the mental
health system, severely labelled, medicated and without hope, I fought a personal
battle in a mental landscape, the battle to define myself.
“Your true battle is with your own mind of discord” Morihei Ueshiba
From the first class I was hooked, the principles and practice of Aikido fed a
hunger which began in my childhood, with Kwai Chang Caine and his search for
the path of peace. I trained under my instructors as often as possible, even setting
up a small dojo in my house where I could practice daily. In 1994 it was my
honour and privilege to be asked to teach my first class and soon I began to make
plans to set up my own local ‘Leeds’ class.
Just when, the elated moods began I am not sure or whether my fascination with
the spiritual aspect of aikido quickened the process or kept me well, may never be
known. The high mood increased over time until they were somewhat out of
control. Hospitalisation followed and it was at this point that the true battle for
which I had trained began. I was told, as I entered hospital that although not under
a section of the mental health act, if I tried to leave I would be sectioned. It was
explained to me that should I refuse medication I would be restrained and injected
against my will, the power invested in the hands of those around me was
horrifying, I no longer had any choice but to nod at the right time, remain silent
and hope for a quick discharge. Within a few days of entering the ward I shuffled
around dribbling, held my hands out in front of me unable to hold a drink without

2. spilling it. I could not distinguish between illness and the medication side effects;
this it seemed was how my life would be from now on.
After being discharged the adverse effects of too much haloperidol were still
evident, if it were not for my wife I doubt I would have been discharged at all. I
shuffled round the house with an ashen face set in a haloperidol ‘death mask’, there
was nothing I could do for myself apart from sit on the edge of my seat like the
withered emaciated ghost of who I had once been. A hungry ghost still haunting its
old life, lost somewhere between desperation and longing, this, was to be my lot.
A friend called, a fellow Aikidoka, he was shocked at what I had become. We
talked briefly and then he took me outside. Tai no Henko he called out, a blending
exercise in Aikido.
The founder of Aikido practicing Tai No
Henko
He grasped my wrist firmly, my body turned as he did so and I felt the authentic
power harnessed in good posture and breathing, he allowed me to practice the
exercise over and over and I began to feel strong again, a strength I thought was
lost forever. I understood the role my Aikido would take in this battle. We
practiced some sword exercises together and when he left I remained for some time
lost in Bokken Suburi, a solitary exercise. The next day I was as before yet the
memory of that authentic empowerment remained.
In the years which followed I sought answers; I found work in Mental Health
services and spoke with the ‘experts’ I found their understanding to be
unsatisfactory and incomplete. It is through my interactions in one to ones with
service users for over 13 years that I have come to recognise that it is the person
them self who hold the key to their own recovery, they are the true expert in their
own life and it is in my own personal experiences of a number of acute psychiatric
admissions that there is little interaction with clinical staff which might spark the
dawning of the realisation of a personal journey toward potential. I found
approaches and clinical environments disempowered me. Recovery was a word I
heard a lot but the environments and prevailing values in which I worked had little
genuine understanding of its essence. So often it is the system that calls the tune

3. and staff must simply dance. Little time is available for therapeutic one to one
time, staff it has been found lack the confidence to relate in any other way than in a
functional approach, conversations only take place about taking medication and
showers and other such mundane matters. My first experience of this occurred
back in 2001 when I was told that the next day the psychiatrist would talk to me, I
had a vision of a leather day bed, a long exploration of my childhood experiences,
the ones which had caused this wound. But no, I saw him for 5 minutes was given
the dreaded haloperidol and the interaction was over. I had nursed this pain for so
long, I knew at 6 I had been wounded, even a 6 year old could work that out, it was
as a result of that trauma that my condition had evolved, but the experts informed
me I had a chemical imbalance, a hereditary problem like my grandfather, whose
experiences in the trenches of the first world war were conveniently disregarded,
my sense then and to this day is that such approaches are flawed. It is my belief
that the psychiatric environments particularly inpatient ones should be therapeutic
in focus, but rather I found they are dedicated to containment and control. My
attendance on this course has created a change in my approach and I am currently
proposing a project to improve this situation, introducing a focus on the quality of
therapeutic engagement and training nursing staff in a non-directive approach,
much akin to Roger’s theories and in line with a nursing theorist called Hildergart
Peplau ( 1952) who recommended such an approach way back in 1952 in her book
entitled Interpersonal Relationships in Nursing.
Eventually I returned to the dojo, for this is my church, this time with my eldest
son by my side, now my youngest son is also following the martial way or Budo. I
believe it is the training, discipline and respect martial arts demand which had
fostered in me the spirit to challenge the stigma of living with a serious mental
health condition and to see challenge on place of a bleak pathological outlook. My
diagnosis defines me less than my martial art.
Through the course of my training mental health episodes have taken me away
from the dojo, so it was to my great surprise and joy that the principal instructor of
our club promoted me to the rank of Sandan, 3rd Dan, in December 2012. That day
was a huge milestone in my recovery. I am now a Sensei, or teacher with my club
and have a class on a Wednesday evening where another interesting change has

4. taken place. Through my ever growing understanding of Rogers and other great
humanist psychologists, I have put into place a form of the core conditions in my
interactions with my students. This simply involves imbuing students with the
sense of their own potential and latent brilliance; it involves creating a sense of
great value in who they are, urging a non-judgemental approach towards
themselves when techniques are a struggle and a non-competitive interaction with
others and within themselves. It calls forth greatness and the invitation to become
the great martial artist they already are and not a copy of their teacher. I would like
to add that I have taken or am trying to take just such an approach in my other
relationships, with my partner, children and colleagues. Someone said if a child
grows up with criticism they will learn to criticise, it is in my own experience that
such criticism can strengthen our own inner critic, whose goal may originally
functional to keep us safe but can turn into a venomous and unrelenting voice
feeding on the harsh attitudes of others.
When I look back on my path I feel proud that my sons are following. To them I
would say that I have found this great way is practiced as much in everyday life as
it is in the dojo. Its essence lies in how we speak, listen and learn from one another,
in how we forgive, understand and love one another and most importantly how we
come to forgive, understand and love our selves.
"Your heart is full of fertile seeds, waiting to sprout." Morihei Ueshiba
Peplau,H. E. (1952). Interpersonal Relationships in Nursing. New York: G. P. Putnam & Sons.