”The sanity birds glided
seamlessly through my dream, arcing high into the air on the updraft then swooping
low over the churning sea….Then one bird fell. Screaming it dropped from the
clouds, its body smashing into the hungry sea. Then another. And another….”
(p. 9).

This book deserves to be widely
read by mental health professionals and others seeking an insider’s view of
mental illness. Suzy Johnston was diagnosed with manic depression while a
student at St Andrews University (that’s the one overlooking the Home of Golf).
In The Naked Bird Watcher Johnston describes her experience with
feelings of despair, suicidality, repetitive self injury and crippling self
doubt. She describes several hospital admissions, and a long series of
consultations with psychiatrists, general practitioners, mental health nurses
and counselors. She also discusses family relationships, friendships and
romances, sparing little in recounting what helped her recovery and what didn’t.
There are a number of people who will feel uncomfortable to say the least to
read of how they have been perceived at various times, and others who might
smile as Johnston recounts numerous anecdotes and vignettes of her life so far.
The Naked Bird Watcher is not simply an autobiographical account of
mental illness; it is the story of a life, including drinking binges, travel, and
Johnston’s performances in the rock band the Alkahounds. Episodes of mental
illness are described as they were experienced: in student hostels, at home
with her family, and in hospital. The book is written in plain language, with
no attempt to craft an account in support of a particular stance about mental
illness, or to interpret any of her experience in terms of a theory, medical or
otherwise. This is the story of a life as lived.

In a previous review I discussed Walking on
Eggshells, Johnston’s mother’s account of Suzy’s mental illness. I can
see now why mother and daughter have both published their stories: Jean has
been the mainstay of Suzy’s life, supporting her in times of crisis, listening
to her declarations of despair, providing an anchor of security in a life that
teetered towards an abyss. Other family members play supportive roles in Johnston’s
life, but it is Jean who features most strongly in this account.

Opening with a passage from a time
in hospital, Johnston sets the scene for a story which for all its high points
is never far away from another black episode. Johnston tells of her early life
in Glasgow, her sporting prowess, adolescent friendships, incidents with her
two brothers, and her at times rocky passage to university graduation. Most of
the time she is a regular student; socializing, playing hockey and football,
learning guitar, and developing a surreptitious smoking habit. She drinks a
lot, and suffers a lot of hangovers, but rises to drink again. All that
drinking can’t have helped her low moods, but it is normalized in the context
of university life. If Johnston sounds more than a little naïve when she
reflects on the harm done by other recreational drugs, she is probably typical of
her peers.

The book recalls numerous
interactions with friends, flatmates, nurses and doctors, as well as many
critical episodes in Johnston’s illness and recovery. In one telling section she
recounts her decision to inflict lacerations, first with a compass needle and
later using razors. She describes cutting and the relief that accompanied it
without self pity: ”The pain was a revelation. I could feel again. It was
sharp, clear and alive, smashing its way through the thick wall of Perspex that
I had built up around me”.

In the course of her many contacts
with health professionals Johnston has more changes in medication than you can
shake a stick at. She reports finding some of these interventions helpful, and
medication is a current part of her self management program. But I did find
myself wondering if all those antipsychotics, antidepressants and tranquilizers
reflected as much the limited therapeutic options of her clinicians as they did
Johnston’s need for relief from distress. Johnston also reflects frankly on
various health professionals, mostly in terms of their willingness to listen,
and ability to show understanding of her experience. There are lessons in this
book for those of us who offer help to people with mental distress and illness:
while hospitalization and medication proved invaluable at times, there is no
substitute for listening, the warmth of conversation, and in Johnston’s case a
sense of humor.

The Naked Bird Watcher is a
plainly rendered personal account, free of agendas about models of ”mental
illness” or the inadequacies of the mental health system. Johnston does make
some telling points about stigma and discrimination, the need for sensitive and
supportive mental health care, and the difficulties encountered in adapting to persistent
low moods and social anxiety. At the end of the book she describes depression
as ”like walking down a road blindfolded and falling into potholes. You don’t
know how deep the potholes are or how long it will take to climb out”. But
climb out she does. Recovery, as Patricia Deegan said, is a journey, and for
Johnston it is clearly not over. Johnston reflects without artifice that she
hopes her coping strategies will keep her at home and out of hospital. If
publication of her book helps in this process Johnston has achieved twice; she
has helped readers understand one woman’s experience of building a life in the
face of mental health crises, as well as helping her own recovery. With The
Naked Bird Watcher Johnston establishes herself not only as the author of
her book, but as the author of her life.

© 2006 Tony O’Brien

Tony O’Brien RN, MPhil, Senior
Lecturer, Mental Health Nursing, University of Auckland, a.obrien@auckland.ac.nz

Categories: Depression, Memoirs