Dathlu Newid Meddyliau: Taith o Dreftadaeth a Llesiant

Ar 9 Rhagfyr 2025, nododd Archifau Sir Gaerfyrddin a Gweithredu dros Iechyd Meddwl Gorllewin Cymru garreg filltir arbennig gyda digwyddiad i ddathlu llwyddiant ail brosiect Newid Meddyliau (Change Minds). Gwnaethpwyd y rhaglen wyth wythnos hon, a wnaeth wahaniaeth gwirioneddol i gyfranogwyr, yn bosibl diolch i gefnogaeth hael Cronfa Integreiddio Ranbarthol (CIR) Llywodraeth Cymru.

Mae Newid Meddyliau yn fenter unigryw sy’n cyfuno cefnogaeth iechyd meddwl ac ymgysylltu â threftadaeth. Mae’n cynnig cyfle i gyfranogwyr archwilio archifau hanesyddol wrth fyfyrio ar eu straeon personol eu hunain. Dros wyth wythnos, ymchwiliodd cyfranogwyr i gofnodion y seilam  lleol, gan ddatgelu mewnwelediadau diddorol i orffennol Sir Gaerfyrddin, a rhannu eu profiadau mewn amgylchedd diogel a chefnogol.

Disgrifiodd un cyfranogwr y profiad fel “fel agor ffenestr i’r gorffennol a dod o hyd i ddarn ohonof fy hun yno.” Myfyriodd un arall, “Doeddwn i byth wedi dychmygu y gallai hen ddogfennau fy helpu i deimlo mor gysylltiedig — nid yn unig â hanes, ond â phobl heddiw.”

Darganfu’r grŵp straeon am wydnwch a chymuned o dros 100 mlynedd yn ôl, gan sbarduno sgyrsiau am sut mae’r themâu hynny’n dal i atseinio. “Roedd darllen am rywun a wynebodd galedi yn y 1920au yn gwneud i mi deimlo’n llai unig,” meddai un o’r mynychwyr. “Fe’m hatgoffodd fod brwydrau’n rhan o fywyd ond felly hefyd gobaith.”

Roedd y digwyddiad diweddar i ddathlu nid yn unig y cyflawniadau personol hyn, ond hefyd yr ymdrech gydweithredol a wnaeth y cyfan yn bosibl. Llenwodd yr ystafell gyda barddoniaeth ac areithiau calonogol wrth i gyfranogwyr rannu beth oedd yr hyn yr oedd y prosiect yn ei olygu iddyn nhw. “Nid ymchwil hanesyddol yn unig oedd hyn,” dywedodd un cyfranogwr. “Roedd yn ymwneud â dod o hyd i gryfder mewn straeon—eu rhai nhw a’n rhai ni.”

Mae rhyddiaith a gwaith celf gan un o gyfranogwyr y prosiect wedi’i gyhoeddi isod. Mae’r gwaith hwn yn cynnwys cyfeiriadau at salwch meddwl, gan gynnwys hunan-niweidio. Cynghorir darllenwyr i fod yn ofalus.

Almost one hundred years apart but sharing the same name, Charlotte Anne on the left is from 1926 and has brown eyes, whilst Charlotte Anne on the right is from 2025, with blue eyes. 

Charlotte Anne 1926: my head is a map, my mind strung in such a way I sometimes struggle to think clearly.  Here is my road, and here is my home, the one just up from the bridge of my nose.  In one hundred years you shall walk it for me, look for where I once stood, once trod, but you shall find that most of the houses I knew so well have gone.  Only a few will remain, and those left are braced on the edge of a car park.  But still you can see the Tywi, how it boils and churns with the tide, upstream, downstream, and how it can spew over and flow along the road, make a lake at my door. 

    Once I tried to drown myself. 

    How else will life change for you?  The coracles and fish will be fewer, old traditions stagnating in pools of progress.  I worked at the woollen factory, just along from where the market stood, now not far from your fever-dream Debenhams.  Not all progress will work.  

    Another time I tried to hang myself.  

   You see, the Devil came to me one night, told me to squeeze my legs together and injured me inside, and now my brain is the shape of St David’s Hospital. I am number 6005.  They examine me, tell me there is nothing abnormal about my respiratory system, and my circulatory system is regular and clear.  They say my tongue is clean and I have few septic teeth.  But they note I am uneasy with my manners, and I pick with my fingers and plait and replait my hair.  F2 Ward.  Regarded as Epileptic, Suicidal, Dangerous, Destructive.  Delusional insanity, they say.  

    Do they believe me when I tell them I will never get better?

Charlotte Anne 2025: my head is a map too, my mind strung with the pathways I choose to follow.  These are the ones which give me joy, the ones which help me breathe deeply and close my eyes slowly when I tilt my face to the light.  We cannot live without the sun, us living things. 

    Verbena blooms my brain.  I have chosen it because the flower head lasts such a long time, feeds pollinators and, despite its long thin stems and small tight leaves, it is strong and can withstand the storms.  If I could, I’d peel back time and hand you a purple cluster.  They are not just flowers, you see.  They are my friends and family, the people I know, the communities I am a part of, and they hold me. 

    My throat is mulched with leaves – lime, sycamore and hazel.  Each year they fall, but I believe they do not die.  They curl up, cwtch in, and provide energy for the following year.  I need to tell you I knew the devil once too, and so, if I could, I’d gift you these leaves as protection.

    My body is mapped with roots, and, if they were to examine me, they would find an entanglement of threaded mycelial hyphae.  This is what connects me to everything.  All of my systems are joined with nature.  It protects me, feeds me, uplifts me.  St David’s Hospital held you, helped you.  I know there were good people there.  F2 Ward was picture framed by trees, the ones perhaps you could see through your window but were separated from by glass.  If I could, I’d gift you a tree, and sunlight, and a basket of pathways you could choose to follow. 

    Maybe then you would believe that you could get better.

Rhyddiaith a gwaith celf gan Lottie, Cyfranogwr Prosiect Newid Meddyliau,
Archifau Sir Gâr

Mae Archifau Sir Gaerfyrddin yn falch o’r gwaith trawsnewidiol hwn ac yn edrych ymlaen at barhau â’i genhadaeth o gysylltu pobl, hanes a lles yn y dyfodol.

Gallwch chwilio’r casgliadau a dilyn gwaith Archifau Sir Gaerfyrddin yma: https://www.sirgar.llyw.cymru/cartref/gwasanaethaur-cyngor/llyfrgelloedd-ac-archifau/archifau-sir-gaerfyrddin/