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Lead: From On‑Screen Heroine to Real‑World SurvivorIn a candid Guardian interview, Hannah Murray reflects on the paradox of feeling liberated after quitting acting, only to be drawn into a high‑priced wellness cult that jeopardised her mental health. The experience culminated in a psychotic break, a brief hospitalisation, and a subsequent bipolar diagnosis.The cult’s promise and Murray’s descent into its underbellyAt 27, Murray joined an organisation that marketed “wisdom and specialness” for a fee running into thousands of pounds. The group’s charismatic leader, identifiable by a symbolic necklace and a giant Starbucks cup, offered a quick fix for the emptiness Murray felt after years of fame‑driven validation.Initial attraction: desire for lasting “specialness” beyond acting roles.Practices: meditation, gratitude diaries, and “spiritual” workshops.Cost: substantial financial outlay combined with escalating mental strain.The hidden price tag and mental‑health falloutThe cult’s financial demands were matched by a severe psychological toll. Murray experienced a catastrophic psychotic episode, leading to a brief stay in an acute mental‑health unit where she was diagnosed with bipolar disorder.Impact: What Murray’s story reveals about the wellness industry’s lure for young creativesHer narrative underscores a broader vulnerability: young, high‑profile individuals often seek quick‑fix solutions to the pressures of fame, making them prime targets for exploitative “wellness” enterprises. Murray notes a lack of critical scrutiny surrounding the industry’s promises, which are frequently presented as universally benign.Future outlook: Growing calls for accountability and mental‑health advocacyAs more public figures share similar experiences, the wellness sector may face increased regulatory attention and a push for transparent, evidence‑based practices. Murray’s memoir adds momentum to a cultural conversation about protecting vulnerable talent from predatory self‑help movements.

The LeadGame of Thrones actress Hannah Murray shares her experience of being sectioned in a psychiatric hospital in her new memoir "The Make-Believe: A Memoir of Magic and Madness." The actress describes her mental health journey and the experience of being involuntarily admitted under the Mental Health Act.The Hospital ExperienceThe door to the room opens. A man enters the room. He is a Black man, bald and overweight. He is dressed in uniform. Blue uniform, a blue lanyard that reads "NHS". But I know Steve, the leader of the organisation that introduced me to magic, is a magician. I know he can appear in disguise.I approach the man and try to kiss him.He does not let me kiss him. Then no. It is not Steve.The man has brought me a plate of toast. He has brought me a cup of tea. I add sugar to the tea, which I would never have done in my former life, but a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down!I am a Ritual Master. And this, drinking my own urine, is a powerful ritual. This is all I need now to survive … I will never need to eat again. I survive on liquids and air and lightI do not eat the toast. I drink the tea. I am alone in the room again and I urinate into the cup and drink that too.I am a Ritual Master. And this, drinking my own urine, is a powerful ritual. This is all I need now to survive. It is the most potent of potions I can drink. I am a self-contained, utterly self-sufficient being. I will never need to eat again. I survive on liquids and air and light.I decide to explore outside the room. Outside my sanctuary. He has not come. So maybe I need to go searching for him …The Phone CallTime jumps. I am in a corridor lit by overhead strip lights. The electric light is pale yellow in tone. I am sat on one of three chairs in a row against the wall. The chairs are purple, curved plastic. I am still waiting for him to appear.There are two doors in front of me. One is the door to the blue room with the blue sofa and chair. Behind the other door is an office of some kind, and there is a woman in there, shuffling papers and talking on the phone.The woman comes out of the office. She is holding out my phone. My only possession now – the one artefact from my previous life. There is someone she wants me to speak to.Him.When I hold the phone to my ear, I hear a voice I recognise.But the voice belongs to my mother."Hannah?" she says. "Where are you? What's going on?"There is distress in her voice. Her voice is trembling with pain and anxiety.I do not want to hear it.This is a test. A horrible test, certainly, but one that I can pass. They are trying to tempt me back into the human. They are trying to lure me back into the past.I hang up the phone.But, after a moment, it starts to ring. The word Mum lights up the screen."Talk to her," says the woman.I answer the call.My mother sounds different now. Calmer. She asks again what's going on but gently, even cheerfully. I tell her everything's OK. That I'm fine. I tell her not to worry. I'm in a good place.This is the last time I will ever hear her voice, I think. This is the way I say goodbye.The DiagnosisThey tell me I am being sectioned.The words jar with my beliefs."Section 2 … the Mental Health Act … 28 days … right to appeal … "I cock my head.This does not fit at all. It does not fit in the world of Steve, of Ritual Master, of Shambhala and the invention of magic.I am not concerned. I am concerned only with the energy I can feel spiralling up through my body and the voices I can hear in my head.I pace the hospital corridors, delivering a tearful monologue, delivering the greatest performance of my life. A phrase comes to me. The Girl With All the Gifts. The title of a post-apocalyptic horror film released in 2016, starring Gemma Arterton.I am a magician. I am an actress. I am a writer. I have superhuman strength. I can fly. Anything that can be imagined, I can perform it. Every skill and every ability is mine.The film came out as a warning, and a prophecy.And because of me, the apocalypse has been averted.I am the saviour of the planet. I am the girl with all the gifts.The Journey to RecoveryIt was very hard, the journey to get here. It took 27 years. The path was twisting and full of setbacks, there were challenges and so much pain. There were times I wanted to give up. It was very hard. Everyone will have to make their own journey, and their journeys will be their own, unique as snowflakes or fingerprints. That is the beauty of it, the joy of it. Everyone has to figure it out for themselves.But I have laid the groundwork. I have walked the path. It starts with the energy healing, and it goes on and on through the seven dimensions, through increasingly magical planes. It goes on and on until you meet your soulmate, like I met mine.I was in a TV show called Game of Thrones, hidden in plain sight in the midst of a cultural phenomenon. I, the key to the world's salvation, wore the face of a character called Gilly, but really I played every role. Then I worked on a film called Detroit in Boston. David Benioff and Dan Weiss and Kathryn Bigelow were the four horsemen of the apocalypse. Numbers are irrelevant. Three counts as four. David and Dan and Kathryn cast me in the roles that brought about my destiny. The end and beginning of the world.I am the Ur-actress. I am every actress. Every performance ever given has been animated by my energy, my talent, by the gestures and facial expressions I am performing here and now.The Memoir and BeyondThis is an edited extract from The Make-Believe: A Memoir of Magic and Madness by Hannah Murray, published by Cornerstone (£18.99). To support the Guardian, order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply.Hannah Murray will be in conversation with Jessie Cave at Kings Place in London on 5 June.