Ta-da!

(Laughter)

Thank you, you were so patient
waiting for so long.

I so appreciate you staying.
I was expecting a mass exodus.

I do hope I'm worth it.

Right, here we go.

Sorry, glasses.

They're quite cool, though, eh?

Yeah, yeah.

Okay.

Right.

When I was about 12,

I was introduced to a group of people,

who were enthralling and delightful.

They were entertaining and amusing,

and I was captivated

by their engaging conversations
and their fascinating ideas.

But just as easily, unfortunately,
they'd turn on me

and their words would become brutal,
humiliating and very critical.

They crushed my spirit
with their savagery.

Fortunately, or unfortunately,
they said they would stick by me,

they said they would never desert me.

And they began to protect and guide me

but also punish me

if I didn't do what they thought
I should be doing.

We would spend hours in deep conversation,

where I learned the world's
a dangerous place.

They told me I was hated,

that people were out there
that wanted to get rid of me;

they told me I was useless,
that I was hopeless,

that I was fat,

that I was ugly and I was stupid,

things I had tried so desperately

to hide from myself and from others,

but they had uncovered the truth.

I became terrified of going out
and suspicious of everyone.

They told me I was a messenger from God,

and they promised me redemption
if I proved myself worthy.

They led me down some very dark paths

with promises of enlightenment,

but all I ever experienced
was bitter disappointment.

I became dependent on them.

My companions were authoritative,

but they were vibrant, vital,
and impossible to ignore.

They knew so much about everything,
and I was totally absorbed by them.

Over time, it became hopeless
to release myself from their clutches,

and I excluded everyone from my life,

including those people
who were the most important

and those people who had dared to love me.

I was now in a slave-master relationship.

It's impossible to flourish in life
when you are hidden from light.

I constantly endeavored
to gain their approval, their praise,

and an invitation
into their inner sanctum,

but that door remained closed to me.

All of this disappointment
just reinforced my internal self-loathing,

which dominated my every thought,

and I became marooned
from all that's wondrous in this world.

Yet without them,
I felt so desolate, so alone

because they filled
a huge void in my life.

You see, I hear voices.

I hear a variety of different voices -

male, female, young, old.

Some of them even have
these crazy accents,

and they are completely obsessed with me.

They observe and remark
on my every action, my every thought.

There's no privacy,
there's no place of sanctity,

they can access my thinking at will,

and I am never free of their ceaseless
commentary and criticism.

This collection of internal narrators

meddles in every aspect of my life.

"So, what's it like,
this voice-hearing thing?"

I'm sure you've asked yourselves.

I'm a pretty garden-variety voice-hearer.

All that happens is I hear people
when they aren't in the room,

and it's as clear and concise
as if someone's directly in front of me.

I tend to hear my voices from behind me,

so I'll look around -

sometimes there's someone there,
sometimes there isn't,

but the experience is exactly the same.

Like most voice-hearers,
I live in a world dominated by words;

I am easy prey to the power of words.

Words can defame, they can defile,

but they can also
bring a heart back to life.

I have come to view voices
as an extreme form of anxiety,

a coping strategy to deal
with my high levels of anxiety

and my propensity
to worry about everything.

Try to think of it this way.

When feelings become too intense,

the mind decides,
"You can't cope. You can't cope,"

so you cultivate a technique
to ensure you will survive the onslaught

and will not become overwhelmed
by your emotions.

There's little question

that the primary objective
of voices is to isolate,

creating the ideal environment
for them to have exclusive access to you.

It deprives you of any alternative view,

and you are completely
dictated by their views.

Then that isolation,
it becomes a protection,

and it becomes a protection

against the anguish of living
with such an extremely fragile soul.

The specific clinical term
is "auditory hallucinations."

So, auditory is hearing,
as I'm sure you know.

And yes, I hear them. Yes, that's fine.

Hallucinations in terms of imagining -

well, no.

The fact is I hear voices
other people don't hear.

That's my reality.

But I acknowledge that is my reality,

and I acknowledge that not everyone
is attuned to these exchanges.

That doesn't mean they don't exist.

There are a lot of things
that we experience as individuals

that we do not share.

They are unique to ourselves;
that does not mean they don't happen.

Our mental health operates on a continuum,

a sliding scale oscillating
from low to extreme stress,

depending on life events.

Living is a stressful business, is it not?

And no person is immune to the trials
and tribulations of everyday life.

As human beings,
we are brilliant, just brilliant,

at dealing with complex,
difficult situations.

As well as the external stressors,
we have internal vulnerabilities,

which make us susceptible
to certain stressors,

sensitivities that have accumulated
over our lifetime:

fear of failure, fear of rejection,

fear of conflict,
fear of being out of control -

you share these fears,
I have no doubt about that.

And each vulnerability brings with it
a mental load which we carry,

like in a backpack on our back.

Most of the time it's light

and we can easily
carry around that burden,

but when circumstances
add to that load, such as:

arguing with someone you care about;

dropping your new phone,
and it's always your new phone,

down the toilet -

(Laughter)

I know, you tell yourself,
"Don't put it in your pocket,"

and then it goes, "Plunk";

your favorite auntie dies -
it's never that witch;

(Laughter)

your cat gets in a fight,
and you're racing off to the vet.

As each instance occurs,
the load accumulates,

and in your backpack of stress,
it's getting heavier,

and the effect multiplies exponentially.

Your stress level
has moved along the continuum;

it has gone from medium
to high to unbearable.

There is a limit to how much stress
any one person can tolerate,

and when you add in
our quiet vulnerabilities,

the effect will multiply,
and there will be a response -

there has to be.

When we get stressed,

voice-hearing is a technique
that we use to divert our attention

and keeps us from the deeply
wounding issues

that overpower us at times
and make us incredibly fearful.

The voices become a guide
to help navigate a world

that throws so much adversity
and animosity towards us.

Fear is an instinctive response
to a perceived threat,

and it safeguards us against danger.

When your fear is activated,
your anxiety level will increase,

and your brain will be bombarded
with instructions

about how to deal
with this imminent threat.

With voice-hearers,

that fear response is triggered
constantly and consistently.

Feeling unsafe, you constantly
scan for danger,

and when you look for it,
you will find it,

and this will increase
your anxiety tenfold.

Ultimately, extreme fearfulness
becomes the mind's default position.

That will make you hypervigilant
to any threat, real or not.

When that converts
into unrelenting, extreme fear,

panic ensues,

and that is incredibly debilitating.

When I panic, I seek refuge.

I will frantically try to collect myself
and may even shut down completely.

Trying to maintain the facade
of being calm and in control

when you're internally freaking out

requires huge amounts of energy.

When my internal and external world
collide so dramatically,

that is when you are likely to see me
openly talking to my voices,

and when our calls for help
and acceptance are rejected,

that makes that task
so much more difficult.

It's not a crazy person you see

but rather a person

dealing with intolerable
psychological and emotional pain.

When you are overwhelmed,
overcome by fear, and desperate,

it's perfectly reasonable

to hide yourself away
and lick your wounds,

to stay hidden.

It's a very typical human response.

It's not madness you are observing,
it's a person trying to survive.

The concept of madness
is an interesting one,

arguably constructed by society
to dictate social and cultural norms.

Up until 1974, homosexuality and epilepsy
were both considered mental illnesses,

so times have changed.

Masturbation, smoking in church,
these were symptoms of mental illness.

I suspect there might be a few of you

who might even qualify
or meet the criteria.

(Laughter)

You may be surprised to hear
that 1 in 25 people report hearing voices.

History, our history, is littered
with voice-hearers.

There's Martin Luther King Jr.,
Gandhi, Joan of Arc, Winston Churchill.

Their memories are not marred
by being identified as a voice-hearer;

rather, they are seen

as heroic, great orators, great thinkers,

yet every one of them
would be considered mentally ill

by today's standards.

As for me, I'm only mad
because somebody else says I am.

If I say the neighbor told me,

"Don't drink from the tap.
It's contaminated,"

I'm socially connected,
and I can sustain relationships.

If I say a voice told me

not to drink from the tap,
because it's contaminated,

then clearly I'm crazy.

And if I say, "I hear the voices
of dead people,"

I would probably get my own TV show.

(Laughter)

Please, I'm asking you, please.

Please don't be fooled
by those negative images

portrayed about voice-hearers.

They come from a place
of arrogance and ignorance.

This is not a lifelong affliction

in which people are condemned
to progressively decline

in their mental well-being.

I can assure you
there are thousands of people

who are getting on with their lives
and continuing to thrive.

I found the key.

It's not easy, but it's absolutely doable.

Through perseverance, support,
and commitment to be proactive,

I discovered a way to liberate myself
as well as my voices.

I now live the life I so craved.

And I dedicate my time

to working with people
who hear distressing voices.

I developed an approach
based on my own experiences

to help others unshackle themselves
from the tyranny of voices.

I call it "the modern approach,"

and I work in a clinical setting
here in New Zealand.

We provide a safe, compassionate
learning environment

to assist people whose lives
have been violated by negative voices,

who have lost family, friends,

and their material and spiritual richness.

My fellow voice-hearers
share their experiences

and are so generous

with their expertise and their wisdom
and how to deal with them.

We have amassed a treasury of information

and actions from their unselfish desire

to help themselves and others
who are negatively affected by voices.

I want to applaud my voice-hearers,

who every day demonstrate true courage

when they face their many challenges.

I wish to thank those
who sail these uncharted waters with us,

those fabulous people
who believe we're worth it.

It is that cherished quality

that will help us all
usher in a better world.

I want to thank you
for giving me this precious moment

so I can talk to you,
so I can be heard,

for you have come

with compassionate hearts
and inquisitive minds;

you support me just by listening to me.

I am a fearful person.

I'm quick-thinking.

I have a desperate need to be liked.

I have low self-esteem.

I worry excessively.

I laugh too loud. I talk too much.

But I'm kind, and I'm generous,
and I am quite cheerful.

I am the possessor of a mutinous mind,

but I'm not mad.

Thank you.

(Applause) (Cheers)