Here I Am

By May-May Meijer

Here I Am – the sequel to May-May Meijer's book Inner Voices – is a compelling account of her episodes of depression following her first compulsory hospital admission. The diagnosis of schizophrenia, her divorce, and the little time she is able to spend with her young son combine to inflict deep wounds. Her struggle with medication results in her once again refusing to take it – to the despair of her family. The Dutch General Intelligence and Security Service make a re-appearance in her life and a second compulsory admission follows.

 

In Here I Am, May-May gives a fascinating and frank insight into the world of an individual in psychological crisis. She also focuses attention on the spiritual side of psychoses, her encounter with God, and His love for everything that lives. Her deepest hope is that Here I Am can make a contribution towards world peace: a world in which all children can play.]

 

May-May Meijer (1972) gained her PhD in Communication Sciences at the Vrije Universiteit in Amsterdam. She is the founder of the peace organisation Peace SOS. Peace SOS facilitates the use of so-called 'soft powers' in countries whose existence is threatened by armed conflicts. Additionally, May-May has published academic texts about her psychological vulnerability in Schizophrenia Bulletin of Oxford University Press and on PsychoseNet.

'People have the intuition to consult sources located outside accessible conscious experience. Not everyone can intuit in this fashion, but it is evidently part of the human repertoire.'  

Jim van Os

Professor of Psychiatry and chairman of the Division of Neuroscience,

University Medical Center Utrecht (UMC Utrecht)

 

'May-May has the courage to show her vulnerability by telling us about her psychiatric process and her encounter with Christ. There are very few people who dare to do this, she is a kind of apostle.'

Father Dresmé

Father of the Roman Catholic Parish of St. Vitus and St. Willibrord in Hilversum

'You are a candle and light for the world' Shams Alkhateeb, mother of Noor and Alaa, talking to May-May during the bombardments of Eastern Ghouta in Syria.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mission World Peace
• Release date: Dec 18, 2020
• ISBN: 9789083127514

May-May Meijer

May-May Meijer (1972) studied communication science at the University of Amsterdam, completing a Ph.D. dissertation in communication science at the Vrije Universiteit in Amsterdam. During her doctoral research she was chair of the national Ph.D. council. After her graduation May-May worked as assistant professor for the working group on Philanthropy at the Vrije Universiteit. She has been an advisor of an endowment of micro-credits for more than ten years. May-May founded the peace organization Peace SOS in 2016. As chair of Peace SOS, May-May publishes articles promoting peace through peaceful solutions in well-known Dutch national newspapers. She has also published several articles in the academic journal Schizophrenia Bulletin of Oxford University Press about her experiences with psychosis and depression. She also published blogs together with professor Jim van Os about her meeting and contact with God for the Dutch website PsychoseNet. May-May is mother of an fourteen-year-old son.

Book preview

Preface

Here I Am – the sequel to my earlier book Inner Voices – is an account of the many years I spent struggling with my situation after my first compulsory admission. It is about my fight with being divorced, about missing my son – who I hardly saw during the periods I was ill – my struggle with medication, and my years-long suffering from depression after my psychosis in 2009. Here I Am is also very much about a new psychotic episode and my second compulsory admission. A nurse on the open ward of the Rembrandthof mental hospital asked herself the question out loud: ‘Why do patients stop taking their medication even after suffering a relapse?’ This book provides an insight into this issue and covers the period from around 2010 up till 2014.

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I feel that it is important for me to write this book, that it is something that God also wants. I hope that when I tell this powerful truth, that it will resonate throughout the universe. That this story will radiate right up to the cosmos. I don’t know how exactly, it’s just what I feel. During my psychoses, I had the idea that ‘speaking the truth’ was a value in itself, perhaps also because I felt at the time that I couldn’t or wasn’t allowed to. Now still, I am convinced that a more peaceful world will come about – and hopefully it will contribute to world peace – if I let others know what I experienced during my psychosis. And I especially hope that Here I Am can also help other people with a vulnerability for psychosis, their loved ones and caregivers. I believe it is good, for example, that more attention is paid within Western psychiatry to the spiritual side of psychoses, and to the feeling that you are in contact with God, but also to the feeling that there are spirits inside your body. Even though the need to talk about it or do something about it may differ from patient to patient. It is a delicate subject, with some patients – for example Thier on PsychoseNet – indicating that they are pleased that the caregivers do not go into the content of their psychoses.

Nevertheless, in my opinion, if the individual with a vulnerability for psychosis wishes to ‘do something’ with the spiritual side of their psychosis after experiencing it, this can not only help the individual in their development, but can also contribute to a more loving world.

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If you yourself suffer from depression or a psychosis, I hope you find recognition in this book and gain strength from it to aid recovery. Be aware that you are unique and that you matter. There are probably more people who love you than you think. You are allowed to love yourself as the person you are now. Take what you can from this book, and feel free to put it to one side if it is too much, or ask for help.

I want to paint as true a picture as possible of my depression and psychosis. However, to make my story read easily, I have written it as a running narrative. I have added a few things here and there when I didn’t know how else to express myself. I have merged the huge numbers of patients, nurses and psychiatrists I met into several characters. I have also occasionally taken steps ‘to protect’ people. I have as much as possible tried to stick to the truth but at the same time I do not want to put anybody in an embarrassing situation.

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I also hope that with Here I Am, I can make clear to people who are not familiar with depression and/or psychosis what a person who suffers from depression and psychosis goes through; that it becomes clear that you suffer and that as a result your world becomes smaller, and that a little love or care can make a huge difference. My younger sister, for example, who phoned me practically every day to listen to my ‘stories’, so that I could express my grief. Or when a nurse prepared a sandwich for me so that I could see my son immediately when he came round during visiting hours. I will be eternally grateful to them for what they have done. And there are also countless other examples of loving care included in this book.

With Here I Am, I want on the one hand to show that I have reasonably recovered, and on the other hand, I want to show that Christ has asked me to serve others and that I want to be here for you. I have the feeling that Christ has shown me a little piece of the world as He sees it – everything lives – and that it is valuable and important to share it. However, world peace is something that we can only achieve together, all of us.

For my recovery, I am first and foremost extremely grateful to my son, my loving sister, and my father and mother. They have always stood by my side. I am also very grateful to their partners, the psychiatrists, the social-psychiatric nurses, the therapists, the cleaners, the odd-job man and all the rest of the staff at the Rembrandthof, my other family members and friends, fellow patients and all the other people who appear in this book and who have helped me get through my difficult years. How fine too that they want to help to provide more openness about psychosis and depression. I thank the father of my son and his partner from the bottom of my heart for the fact that, despite everything, we do our best together to be there for our son. I am also thankful that Noah has such a lovey bonus sister and bonus brother. I also want to thank everyone who is spreading the message of peace. I consider myself fortunate that within Peace SOS, as well as within other parties I meet, there is room for my psychological vulnerability and neurodiversity.

My thanks go too to Liesbeth Heenk, who helped me to publish Here I Am. She is a strong-minded woman who champions the cause of Holocaust survivors and also gives me a voice in the world. I thank Kumar Jamdagni warmly for his meticulous way of working on the translation and for his love of the English language. Thanks too to Juliëtte Tews, who fine-tuned the Dutch manuscript with pleasure, attention and love. To the printer, the reviewers of the draft version, including Maryse Lamme, the people of the Sint Vituskerk, and all the others indirectly involved in the making of this book. I am also intensely grateful to Jim van Os for his help when no one else was able to get through to me, for clarifying my contact with Christ, and the fact that he is always there to help fellow human beings in psychological need. I am extremely indebted to Father Dresmé for the conversations we conducted about faith, for his understanding of how I suffered and for his inspirational sermons in the Sint Vituskerk in which he places the ideas of God into a contemporary context.

Finally, Christ, I thank You for Your loving support and for encouraging me to write this book. Here I Am.

I wish you peace and hope you enjoy reading my story.

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With love,

May-May

1

Separated

The four of us are on a trip in Niels’ shiny blue Volkswagen Beetle. We are driving in a parade of Beetles in the neighbourhood of the Keukenhof flower park. White, yellow, purple, red and pink tulip fields cover the ground like brightly coloured rugs as they pass our gaze. The children – my son and Niels’ son – are having fun in the back seat, playing with their miniature dinosaurs. Niels moves the gear lever loosely, his silver chain bracelet dangling from his wrist. As we come to a stop in front of a traffic light, he tugs briefly at his cap. Before he pulls up, he winks at me and touches the top of my knee with his hand. A few moments later, the blue-grey sea comes into view behind the yellow-coloured sand dunes. In the past, I would always take a deep breath to sniff the salty sea air, now I simply smile faintly. The children are enjoying their ice cream on the beach during a break. We are part of a procession of Beetles and day trippers take photos of us. Noah, my five-year-old son, also wants to be photographed with his favourite Beetle – a red one with golden letters on the bonnet. It all seems fine. As if we are an ordinary family, the four of us on the road. The day is soon over.

Niels brings his son to his mother and I have to take Noah to his father, my ex-husband. Noah and I get into my light blue Volkswagen Polo.

‘Did you have a good time today, Noah?’ I ask.

‘Yes,’ he answers.

Having to bring Noah back isn’t easy for me. I turn on the Sesame Street CD. The music starts up. Together, Noah and I sing along loudly to our favourite song, Two Best Friends. When the song is over, Noah says enthusiastically: ‘One more time!’ And again we sing along at the top of our voices.

A little while later we drive past ‘Daddy’s house’, which is walled in by large dark green rhododendrons and closed off by a 2-metre-high brown fence. I enter the new code and soon the gates of the big fence slowly slide open automatically. The white house with the roof, which looks as if it’s thatched, contrasts nicely with the blue sky and is bordered by green deciduous trees. In the corner is my favourite red beech tree under which Vince and I used to sit on a wooden bench when I was pregnant with Noah. In front of us stretches the spacious lawn on which the three of us posed in the early spring sun when Noah was just born.

‘Mummy, why are you sad?’ Noah asks from the back seat. The medication helps stop me from crying, but Noah knows perfectly well when I’m sad. I answer him honestly: ‘Mummy finds it hard to be divorced, darling. But that's the way it is, Mummy just has to get used to it. And now Daddy is with Sylvia and Mummy is with Niels.’

As I walk to the door, I can hear Sylvia’s children laughing on ‘our’ lawn. They take a run-up and slide across a long mat that has been sprayed with water. Noah quickly jumps out of the car, runs towards them and joins in. I’m so happy to see him so cheerful, he seems to have forgotten my sadness. At the same time it pains me all the more that ‘our house’ is no longer ‘our house’. Our wish for a family with two children – what Vince and I had hoped for when we bought the house – will not be fulfilled.

From a distance I see Sylvia walking towards me across the green lawn. She has a firm stride. Her shiny thick golden blonde hair dances around her face and seems to have the same energy and resilience as herself. As she gets closer, I see that she is neatly made up with light blue mascara and pink lipstick.

‘Hey May, are you coming in for a cup of tea?’ she asks warmly.

‘Yes, OK,’ I answer hesitantly. We walk into the house. The door is open because of the warm weather. Feeling uncomfortable and stiff, I take a seat on the wooden stool at the bar in the kitchen. My movements are jerky due to the medication. Sylvia walks over to the kettle to boil some water. Through the kitchen window I see the white-pink magnolia, the view I had always enjoyed so much. Soon the kettle switches itself off. In the blink of an eye, Sylvia pours the water into two cups and places a cup of tea in front of me. She takes one herself. I watch the vapour rise from the cup.

‘The children are having a great time outside. How are you feeling, May?’ she asks enthusiastically with interest.

‘I’m OK,’ I murmur.

‘And have you managed to find a full-time job?’

‘No. I’m doing my best. I’ve written a lot of letters, but I often don’t get invited for an interview.’

‘Hang in there, May, I’m sure you'll succeed!’

‘Yes,’ I answer, not entirely convinced. While I reflect on my struggle to find work, Sylvia continues exuberantly: ‘I've been asked to do the marketing for a big company.’

‘Oh, that’s nice for you,’ I say resignedly, as I lift up my cup of hot tea and put it down again, my hands shaking. The pain I’m suffering inside is too intense and too deep for me to be happy for her. At the same time I’m feeling too vulnerable to feel any envy.

Sylvia gets up to clear out the dishwasher. She takes the cups and places them in the cupboard opposite the dishwasher. Apparently they belong in a different place now. Sylvia’s elegant sandals clatter loudly on the white marble floor as she walks back and forth. Just as if she’s living there. She does live there. And I’m the guest. Just as I’m about to get up because I can't bear being in my old house any longer, Noah walks in.

‘I want to sit on your lap, Mummy,’ he says as he climbs onto my lap. He feels comfortable and I don’t have to say anything for a while. He chats away merrily. I drink my tea and savour the moment of Noah sitting on my lap. His warm back presses against my chest and his little legs dangle in the air. Sylvia’s words float past me. I answer at the right moment, as well as I can. She really means well, but my illness and my divorce from Vince have made such a tremendous impact that I’ve become very vulnerable. When I’ve finished my tea, and placed my cup on the bar with trembling hands, I put Noah on the floor and get up.

‘Thank you for the tea,’ I say to Sylvia.

‘See you next week, dear Noah,’ I say to Noah, giving him a big kiss and a hug.

I get into my car and drive down the long driveway. I catch a glimpse of Noah waving from behind the living room window. The brown doors of the gate slowly slide open. I wave back to Noah before driving through the gate, until he is out of sight.

I drive back to my new house. It’s only a five-minute drive. I deliberately chose to live close to Noah’s father’s house. For much of the week, Noah is with his father. He’s with me on Tuesdays, Thursdays and every other weekend. Noah and I live in a neat white terraced house. Noah often says it’s ‘a small house’, but then I say that Daddy has a very big house. Although I thoroughly enjoyed the beautiful, detached house opposite the woods, I sometimes wonder whether I wasn’t able to ‘cope’ with living in luxury, being a university lecturer, and living in a big house. Maybe that’s one of the reasons I had psychoses and got confused.