Tuesday, 18 June 2013
Monday, 17 June 2013
Monday, 27 May 2013
Wednesday, 8 May 2013
Thursday, 25 April 2013
Wednesday, 10 April 2013
Why mainstream is a 'must' for mental health and social inclusion
Current initiatives around mental health focus on three key areas of support, anti-stigma and therapy. A fourth area 'recovery' is also an important part of the debate.
'Recovery' is controversial and misunderstood. Recovery can be associated with 'cure' and the concept of a 'cure' in mental ill-health is not always helpful. That is not to say that people with mental health conditions never talk of being cured or completely recovered. Some do.
The predominant experience of living with a long-term mental health condition is one of managing symptoms and maintaining a life.
So recovery becomes a form of health management that allows for hopes, dreams and aspirations to develop and continue according to an individual's wishes and choices.
Thinking around recovery is intimately linked with ideas and concepts of social inclusion. These ideas go back a long way. They have their roots in the civil rights movement. Activist Rosa Parkes' refusal to vacate a bus seat reserved for whites in Alabama Mississippi in 1955 marks a crucial moment in the history of social inclusion. In some ways it changed everything.
As recently as the early 2000s social inclusion formed a major part of UK government thinking. It was developed under the (then) office of the deputy prime minister and had a strong impact on policy and funding streams.
Along with recovery and social inclusion is a third term - 'mainstream'.
Mainstream is a key part of social inclusion and recovery because it is in the mainstream world that someone with a mental health condition is required to live, just as we all are.
With the knowledge that 'recovery takes place regardless of symptoms or problems' (New Horizons 2008), individuals with mental health diagnoses have the right to access mainstream areas without prejudice. Someone with a mental health condition has dreams, hopes, aspirations and goals and it is only in the mainstream world where these have a chance of realisation.
In line with this thinking and policy-making, a whole body of materials was created in the early 2000s to help organisations make mainstream social inclusion possible. By the mid-2000s third sector organisation working in mental health were often more likely to receive commissions and funding the more they could show a commitment to promoting mainstream.
The old way of thinking that limited people with long-term conditions to handouts, clinical settings, day centres and drop-ins was fast being re-shaped and re-made.
Mainstream recovery approaches are fast disappearing under the tide of cuts to funding and changes in commissioning. It is an initiative in danger of being consigned to the category of yet another transitory trend in mental health and social inclusion. This is despite the fact that referral to mainstream is highly cost-effective and has a deep impact on the lives of individuals.
Wednesday, 19 December 2012
Sunday, 9 December 2012
Saturday, 8 December 2012
NENE Clinical Commissioning film
NENE (Northants NHS Clinical Commissioning) has produced a short film about personal budgets for mental health clients.
The film shows NHS professionals and service users delineating the benefits of a direct payments approach that encourages individual choice and development.
The professionals also testify to the cost savings that arise from clients needing less and less support from more dependency-based services.
Highly recommended.
NENE personal budgets film
The film shows NHS professionals and service users delineating the benefits of a direct payments approach that encourages individual choice and development.
The professionals also testify to the cost savings that arise from clients needing less and less support from more dependency-based services.
Highly recommended.
NENE personal budgets film
Thursday, 6 December 2012
Dylan Tighe (from Breaking Tunes)
Dylan released his debut album RECORD produced by Jimmy Eadie (Jape, We Cut Corners, David Kitt) in May 2012 and launched himself onto the music scene with a series of 10 performances at the Cork Midsummer Festival. This unique live-show featuring actors and musicians received rave reviews and went on to tour to the Dublin Theatre Festival in October.
According to The Examiner "the pick of this bunch of new releases is theatre-maker Dylan Tighe’s debut Record, an album snatched from the swirling waters of mental illness. Launched with a theatre production of the same name as part of Cork Midsummer Festival, it opens the listener to an immediate and raw internal world. "You don’t know what I’ve suffered, you don’t know what I’ve seen," Tighe tells us in ‘Opus.’
In a time when the reality of mental illness is more and more in the public consciousness, Tighe’s album makes for enlightening listening. Opening with a grimly ironic drum roll, the first track is named after Lamotrigine, a so-called ‘mood-stabiliser’ anti-convulsant used to medicate bi-polar depressives.
"To give the mind to chemistry, to numb it to the truth, hurts more than the bitter feeling that joy is but a fluke," sings Tighe. "Mouth as dry as chalk, I read the list of side-effects, convinced I have them all."
No doubt, the album is dark. However, producer Jimmy Eadie — who has previously worked with Jape and Si Schroeder — brings an edgy groove and broad electronic palette to the mix. This, coupled with great performances from Tighe himself on vocals and guitar, as well as from Seán Mac Erlaine on horns and woodwinds and Conor Murray on drums, ensures that Record makes for riveting listening"
Dylan's recent gig as part of the Hard Working Class Heroes Festival was voted by State.ie as one of the top 25 gigs of the entire 3 day festival. The review went on to say:
"By far one of the most intriguing performers at this year’s festival, Tighe performs an absolutely show-stopping set to a packed and somewhat unguarded audience. His soul-searching lyrics and voice combine to staggering effect and he delivers one of the performances of the weekend when clearly very few knew what to expect.
As the pre-gig din loses its viscosity Tighe’s voice is as hushed as it is strong and before long the place is enthralled by him. His running musical theme is mental illness and rather than it become something best examined as shorn memories.
Tighe is examining it through music and generates atmosphere with minimal effort. As such, his lyrics are sometimes unsettling but never anything less than remarkable. As far as comparisons go, a stripped back and darker Edwin Collins would be a start, likewise Richard Hawley, but Dylan Tighe should be heard and experienced with an open mind because based on this, the element of surprise is one of his best weapons"
RECORD is a collection of songs that fuses indelible melodies and philosophical lyrics with a voice of timeless power. The songs, delivered with radical honesty, spring from Dylan’s personal history of mental health diagnoses, treatment and experience, and examine the impact of depression on life and love.
Fusing melancholic vocal lines with a richly layered sound-world of Hammond organs, stylophones, guitars, synths, samples, clarinets and brass, the 10 tracks of RECORD are intimate snapshots of a past filtered through emotional distress, medication, and a search for meaning.
The 10 songs of RECORD transform doomed love, mental torment, failure and disappointment into hymns to comfort the soul. A special limited edition vinyl was also released to coincide with the cycle of gigs at the Dublin Theatre Festival in October.
According to The Examiner "the pick of this bunch of new releases is theatre-maker Dylan Tighe’s debut Record, an album snatched from the swirling waters of mental illness. Launched with a theatre production of the same name as part of Cork Midsummer Festival, it opens the listener to an immediate and raw internal world. "You don’t know what I’ve suffered, you don’t know what I’ve seen," Tighe tells us in ‘Opus.’
In a time when the reality of mental illness is more and more in the public consciousness, Tighe’s album makes for enlightening listening. Opening with a grimly ironic drum roll, the first track is named after Lamotrigine, a so-called ‘mood-stabiliser’ anti-convulsant used to medicate bi-polar depressives.
"To give the mind to chemistry, to numb it to the truth, hurts more than the bitter feeling that joy is but a fluke," sings Tighe. "Mouth as dry as chalk, I read the list of side-effects, convinced I have them all."
No doubt, the album is dark. However, producer Jimmy Eadie — who has previously worked with Jape and Si Schroeder — brings an edgy groove and broad electronic palette to the mix. This, coupled with great performances from Tighe himself on vocals and guitar, as well as from Seán Mac Erlaine on horns and woodwinds and Conor Murray on drums, ensures that Record makes for riveting listening"
Dylan's recent gig as part of the Hard Working Class Heroes Festival was voted by State.ie as one of the top 25 gigs of the entire 3 day festival. The review went on to say:
"By far one of the most intriguing performers at this year’s festival, Tighe performs an absolutely show-stopping set to a packed and somewhat unguarded audience. His soul-searching lyrics and voice combine to staggering effect and he delivers one of the performances of the weekend when clearly very few knew what to expect.
As the pre-gig din loses its viscosity Tighe’s voice is as hushed as it is strong and before long the place is enthralled by him. His running musical theme is mental illness and rather than it become something best examined as shorn memories.
Tighe is examining it through music and generates atmosphere with minimal effort. As such, his lyrics are sometimes unsettling but never anything less than remarkable. As far as comparisons go, a stripped back and darker Edwin Collins would be a start, likewise Richard Hawley, but Dylan Tighe should be heard and experienced with an open mind because based on this, the element of surprise is one of his best weapons"
RECORD is a collection of songs that fuses indelible melodies and philosophical lyrics with a voice of timeless power. The songs, delivered with radical honesty, spring from Dylan’s personal history of mental health diagnoses, treatment and experience, and examine the impact of depression on life and love.
Fusing melancholic vocal lines with a richly layered sound-world of Hammond organs, stylophones, guitars, synths, samples, clarinets and brass, the 10 tracks of RECORD are intimate snapshots of a past filtered through emotional distress, medication, and a search for meaning.
The 10 songs of RECORD transform doomed love, mental torment, failure and disappointment into hymns to comfort the soul. A special limited edition vinyl was also released to coincide with the cycle of gigs at the Dublin Theatre Festival in October.
Wednesday, 5 December 2012
Tuesday, 4 December 2012
Disabled man abandoned on the second floor of building during Atos fire alarm evacuation
From The Independent
A disabled man was trapped in a centre run by Atos, which assesses fitness for work, when the fire alarm went off and staff evacuated the building, leaving him behind in his wheelchair.
Geoff Meeghan, 32, who has early-onset Parkinson’s and is unable to walk more than three metres without support, was being assessed on the second floor of a building in Neasden, north-west London.
Disabled people arriving for appointments are supposed to be asked if they can exit the building without assistance, but Mr Meeghan, pictured, was not. He waited with his support worker Nick Ephgrave, from the charity Parkinson’s UK, and his sister, who acts as one of his carers, before being called in for his assessment. A few minutes in, the alarm sounded and the doctor present said they needed to evacuate.
“The doctor held the door open for us to come out but then ran down the stairs and left us there,” Mr Meeghan said. “We weren’t allowed to use the lift and asked a security guard for help – he said he’d send some but no one came. Eventually another security guard came past and stayed with us, even though he had been told to evacuate.
“Even though I can tackle stairs with help, it was a highly stressful situation and I felt like it was far too risky. I was worried that flames might come up the stairs and that I might fall or something. It wasn’t a drill. We could see the fire engine arriving outside. I feel like there was a general lack of respect for disabled people at Atos – they make you feel as though you’ve done something wrong by being disabled – like you’re being persecuted.”
An Atos spokesperson said: “This should never have happened and we apologise unreservedly. We will be getting in contact with Mr Meeghan directly. We have since reviewed this case internally with the building security and management team to ensure this doesn’t happen again.”
Tuesday, 27 November 2012
Monday, 26 November 2012
Nile Rodgers amazing life story Guardian interview
Interview by Amy Fleming
The Guardian, Saturday 7 July 2012.
'I adore all my brothers, but they are lazy because I take care of everybody.' My mum got pregnant with me at 13. She gave me up for adoption, but then fought to retrieve me, and her father kicked her out as a result. So instead of going back to school, she got a job at IBM.
Growing up, my relationship with my mother and stepfather was difficult because they were heroin addicts, so they were self-centred. They were kind people, but when you're an addict you are not only addicted to the drugs but to the process of going out and getting them too. As a kid, I didn't understand that their behaviour wasn't against me, but I internalised it as them not liking me: I was the bad kid. How could I be good enough to be loved and nurtured?
I had to take care of myself and, in the pursuit of their love, I wound up developing survival mechanisms and coping skills that have helped me throughout my life. I learned how to fix stuff because everything in their lives was broken and I was the one they could depend on. That's why I'm here talking to you now. I'm a record producer and songwriter, I'm a problem-solver. Madonna's Like a Virgin sold more than 20m records. Let's Dance, David Bowie's best-selling album, I made in 17 days.
I never wished my parents were normal because they were unique, special and fabulous. They got a lot of stares because they were an interracial couple in New York in the late 50s, but they were hip too. I used to play hooky from school and watch movies all day. While other people's parents were like characters from television, mine were like movie stars. I called all adults by their first names and my mum was just another adult.
I was the firstborn of my generation in the family but because I was so close to my parents in age they treated me with a kind of adult respect. They talked to me as an equal. We played chess. They needed a friend. The greatest lesson I learned from them was: treat people the way you'd like them to treat you.
All the other beatnik stuff was cool, too, but I was socialised to care about people from day one. My four half-brothers are the same. They may be lazy and good for nothin', but they're really nice guys – you'd want to have them as friends. I adore all my brothers, but they are lazy because I take care of everybody.
I got my first professional job [in the Sesame Street band] when I was 17 or 18. I was making more money than my parents, so they were all, like, great, we're not working. Ever.
Unfortunately, I was the only one who had the skill set to figure out how to pay rent.
I'm very responsible and that's another thing my family gave me. I don't want to let anyone down. I haven't had children of my own. I'm the patriarch of my family, I work too hard and I've changed more than enough diapers in my life, with my little brothers.
My mum and brothers are all completely dependent on me. It's basically like we're still hippies and I'm the guy who goes out and panhandles all the money while they sit around. I wish it wasn't like that, but the great thing about it is that I have wonderful brothers who are the nicest, kindest guys in the world.
'I adore all my brothers, but they are lazy because I take care of everybody.' My mum got pregnant with me at 13. She gave me up for adoption, but then fought to retrieve me, and her father kicked her out as a result. So instead of going back to school, she got a job at IBM.
Growing up, my relationship with my mother and stepfather was difficult because they were heroin addicts, so they were self-centred. They were kind people, but when you're an addict you are not only addicted to the drugs but to the process of going out and getting them too. As a kid, I didn't understand that their behaviour wasn't against me, but I internalised it as them not liking me: I was the bad kid. How could I be good enough to be loved and nurtured?
I had to take care of myself and, in the pursuit of their love, I wound up developing survival mechanisms and coping skills that have helped me throughout my life. I learned how to fix stuff because everything in their lives was broken and I was the one they could depend on. That's why I'm here talking to you now. I'm a record producer and songwriter, I'm a problem-solver. Madonna's Like a Virgin sold more than 20m records. Let's Dance, David Bowie's best-selling album, I made in 17 days.
I never wished my parents were normal because they were unique, special and fabulous. They got a lot of stares because they were an interracial couple in New York in the late 50s, but they were hip too. I used to play hooky from school and watch movies all day. While other people's parents were like characters from television, mine were like movie stars. I called all adults by their first names and my mum was just another adult.
I was the firstborn of my generation in the family but because I was so close to my parents in age they treated me with a kind of adult respect. They talked to me as an equal. We played chess. They needed a friend. The greatest lesson I learned from them was: treat people the way you'd like them to treat you.
All the other beatnik stuff was cool, too, but I was socialised to care about people from day one. My four half-brothers are the same. They may be lazy and good for nothin', but they're really nice guys – you'd want to have them as friends. I adore all my brothers, but they are lazy because I take care of everybody.
I got my first professional job [in the Sesame Street band] when I was 17 or 18. I was making more money than my parents, so they were all, like, great, we're not working. Ever.
Unfortunately, I was the only one who had the skill set to figure out how to pay rent.
I'm very responsible and that's another thing my family gave me. I don't want to let anyone down. I haven't had children of my own. I'm the patriarch of my family, I work too hard and I've changed more than enough diapers in my life, with my little brothers.
My mum and brothers are all completely dependent on me. It's basically like we're still hippies and I'm the guy who goes out and panhandles all the money while they sit around. I wish it wasn't like that, but the great thing about it is that I have wonderful brothers who are the nicest, kindest guys in the world.
Sunday, 25 November 2012
Sunday, 18 November 2012
Tuesday, 6 November 2012
Monday, 5 November 2012
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