Where D'Ya Go, Rho? Ep7 Therapy Is Such A Drama

Hello again! It’s me, Rhona, that 40 something, middle aged wee wummin who has the appearance of a ghost after spending approximately the last 7 years wondering where the hell she has gone. Vanished into the ether as she gradually faded from society into a void. Basically I have been hibernating from the world and feeling pretty pointless. Well enough is enough and I have been spending the last few months seriously trying to sort out what the hell happened.

One of the places I’ve been is at the Glasgow Centre for Integrative Care AKA The Homoeopathic hospital. Its the last stop shop for chronic pain people like me and when you add into mix a MH muck up like mine- anxiety with a dash of panic attack and palpitations, sprinkled with a smattering of mania and dopamine hunt overspending, stewing in a jus of depression, doom scrolling and downright hatred of oneself it makes for a bag of shit that no one wants to deal with. I am a card carrying mutant, a genetic malfunction in flesh form that never fitted into a box from day one. So why the GP thought a simple course of antidepressants was gonna fit the bill for me is anyone's guess.

I have run the gamut of pills for pain and depression. Pain wise I’ve tried them all whether it be pills, patches or putting electrodes on my skin to baffle my brain into thinking my pain lives elsewhere. When it comes to depression I’ve visited psychiatrists, psychologists, CPNs and been through lots of treatments with abbreviations instead of explanations CBT, NLP, EMDR, DBR… FFS! (more about DBR in a later blog)

The last few months I have been attending a psychodrama course. Ok maybe I have phrased that wrong. It is a drama therapy course. I was sceptical at first as any mention of drama in a community based setting has me thinking of the Legs Akimbo theatre in League of Gentlemen. If you don’t get the reference then you should be dead to me but please go to YouTube and educate yourself in the ways of Royston Vasey, not the real Royston Vasey but the fake town because clicking the wrong one takes you down a whole different comedy road. Anyway, turns out this drama course was more than I thought.

Initially, I arrived and was greeted by a very soft spoken girl in the kind of dungarees that wouldn’t look out of place at a zen field in Glastonbury. I feared it was going to be some airy, fairy, hippy, dippy bullcrap. Even as an actor I can baulk at the kind of thespians that go so middle class in their approach that they almost vanish up their own arse with how self righteous they make the process.I had a worry it was all going to be a bit too West End Wendy for me. It was a small and intimate group of 3 and to be honest over the course of the weeks it tended to be 2 or 1 as a full complement was rare.

Our dungaree wearing leader was lovely and led us gently through the process. Each week we would check in with ourselves in the room. A meditative practice whereby we would feel our surroundings, sense ourselves in the chair, ground our feet and be aware of any aches or pains and adjust ourselves accordingly to be as comfortable as possible before starting the session properly.

The setting of the group was in a room with large french doors overlooking a beautiful garden scene. Very distracting as I was prone to watch the birds or the squirrels who played outside while we played inside. Often there would be exercises whereby we walked around the space and would adopt some odd movements, whatever took our fancy. From time to time I would mimic the jolly scrambling hop of the squirrels outside and it would make me enthusiastic on days when I was not firing on all cylinders. How would I find where I had gone by acting out with a couple of strangers? Would it just be a waste of time? My fellow ‘actors’ in the class seems as dubious about the process as I was.

However at points in the class we would harness a theme that would create a tapestry of images and from there we would pull upon a thread that would lead us to some personal understanding.

There were a couple of weeks whereby I worked on a one to one basis and made some rather astonishing unconscious realisations through the work. We did exercises like freewriting when you write without much hesitation, writing without force and what would come out was a stream of conscience that often held more meaning than imagined and the threads would weave a web of understanding that at the start felt impossible. It felt like magic, a weird alchemy that was brought together by play. As adults we don’t play as often as perhaps we should. As actors play is an essential part of the job but for anyone on the 9-5 road most travelled then play is reserved for the weekend and often by then many are too knackered to much more than Netflix and Chill before the hamster wheel spins again.

We had a recurrent theme that reared through our sessions and that was Willy Wonka. It started before the Willy Wonka Experience in Glasgow broke the internet. We had a fear of the unknown but it was not some poor schmuck hiding behind a mirror jumping out and making weans greet. Our theme revolved around the main characters of Charlie, Augustus, Violet, Verruca, Mike and the main man himself WIlly Wonka. We would embody the characters and feel the differences in them to ourselves.

In one memorable session I was trapped as Violet in a room with Veruca salt and the room was filling up with imagined chocolate. As a competitive Violet I was willing to still win even in this perilous situation. As I took on the character I lost myself and shocked myself as I witnessed Violet jump onto a chair to get to higher ground to save herself. I did it unaided and with barely any effort. As I took in the vista from above my actual self was astounded at the physical feat that took place. I had no idea how I got there and even less of a thought as to how I was going to get down again. My answer was staying in character until I was back down on the ground. To say I was pleased with myself was an understatement. I couldn’t recall the last time I had had such physicality. I descended with ease and I picked up my crutch again with a feeling of accomplishment. I did pay for it later when my body reminded me that it wasn’t used to such escapades but for that flash second I felt free, I felt able, I felt like a winner.

The sessions would often involve us taking on emotions that felt alien like supreme confidence with feet that were rooted in the ground whereby we would stand differently, hold ourselves higher and look each other in the eye with direct contact. Sometimes we would hit emotions we would rather not show like anger, greed or jealousy. Again the body would morph and contort into different shapes and the emotions would rise up feeling different and our speech would take on the verbiage of this new creature. It was liberating to explore moods we would repress in normal life.

In the beginning, we didn’t talk about how these related to our own lives but as transformative courses often do at a point in the middle there was a shift, barriers came down and true emotions rose up. I explored themes I had not planned on touching let alone bringing into dramatherapy. We wrote letters that could be read, kept or burned. We drew pictures that created images of future goals, past fears and present dangers.

As the weeks passed many of the random threads created weaves and made sense in my life. It brought up hidden issues and created answers from within me that I didn’t know I had. By the end it was sad to be leaving the group. Each of us were even invited to leave or take something from the garden as a memento. Sadly my initial thought of a pet squirrel was never gonna happen but I now have a stone I am going to paint, varnish and have adorn my garden as a reminder of my time in therapy.

It didn’t help explain my vanishing but did help explore the emotions I want to take into the future and those I want to let fade away. I was also given my artwork and other written material from the course. I am not sure whether I will photograph it, frame it, keep it or just burn it all. Either way despite my reservations, I think drama therapy was less of a drama than I thought it was gonna be and it may have nudged me closer to understanding myself and finding the answer as to where I’ve been, if I am coming back and where I am headed.

And scene.