Nothing in this blog can be believed. If you think that anything in this blog is true or factual, you'll need to verify it from another source. Do you understand? No? Then read it again, and repeat this process, until you understand that you cannot sue me for anything you read here. Also, having been sucked into taking part in the mass-murder of more than 3 million Vietnamese people on behalf of U.S. Big Business "interests", I'm as mad as a cut snake (and broke) so it might be a bit silly to try to sue me anyway...

Saturday, May 21, 2005

the rats are feeding on my brain again...

I must be an idiot. Everyone else would figure out their predicament and fix it. Not me though. I was going to say "not I" but that sounded just too damn grammatically korrekt so I deliberately typed "not me". You wanted to know this didn't you? Yes, I thought so. That's why you're here...

Why am I here? Fucked if I know. I'm depressed again. There are so many things you can't really talk about in a public blog. Like the conversation I just had with my partner. I can't tell you about that. It wouldn't be right. So already you're outside of the context matrix.

Medication. I'm talking about the mind-altering anti-depressants. I won't take any. I don't trust the doctors and I trust the drug companies even less. Paranoid? Well, that's what one of those bright sparks has diagnosed me as. He might have been right.

I'm sick of life. I don't deserve to live. I don't know what to do with my life - literally. I don't deserve any sympathy or consideration. I'm a waste of space. A waste for resources. A waste of oxygen as they say. I get a veterans pension. That's tax payers' money. I'm not worth it. That money should go to someone who wants to live and is willing to do something with their life. Life is sacred. What a load of shit. There are so many people who die even though they really want to live. If I could give my life to one of them, I gladly would. But whilst it's supposedly my life, I cannot give it away to anyone who could make better use of it.

I've either ditched or alienated every friend I ever had. "I have no need for friendship, friendship causes pain..." (apologies to Simon and Garfunkel) I have no friends now except my partner. She loves me. Do I love her? Yeah, I do. And then, at times like this I think that if I loved her I'd get out of her life. I must be a toxic influence. She doesn't think so. I think I'm a pathetic wanker. But do I do something about that? No.

I've tried years of counselling. It made no difference. You know the old joke: "but you've got to want to get better." Hahahahahahahahaha... "Helloooooooooo... I'm here because I have depression. Depression often manifests as a feeling of apathy. And you're telling me I must want to get better? Yeah, right!" So shoot me, see if I care... anyway, I gave up the counselling. It was just more of the tax payers' money going down the drain. I already felt guilty enough.

Every now and then some genius loaded up with good intentions suggests I should try Cognitive Behaviour Therapy (CBT). Well, I know all about that stuff. I even delivered something almost identical to that once under a guise I used to call "Personal Effectiveness Training". It works fine if you're not a guy who's given up and is suffering from "failure fatigue". I hover on the edge of suicide like a hang-glider hovers over the edge of a cliff.

But I'm too gutless to actually do it. Oh I have a couple of methods I've decided I'd use but when it comes to hard action, it's all too hard. I came close once though. But I felt that before I did it I had to go and visit my mother's grave because I'd never been there since the day she was buried in 1963. The trouble was it took me two days to ride the motorbike down to where she was buried and after I had a cathartic "conversation" with her at the graveside I went back to the motel and got out the plastic bag and the adhesive tape. I wrote the suicide note and the instructions for the police. I put a chair close to the door (so you would see it as soon as you opened the door) with a sign with large letters which said "KEEP OUT - SUICIDE" so that the hapless motel person checking the room would be spared the trauma. Then I tried to get up the courage to do the final deed, but I could not. Once again I was a failure. I never felt so lonely and lost in all my life. I went and got a bottle of bourbon, cried lots of tears of self-pity and drank myself into a stupor till I fell asleep. Next morning I checked out and rode back home. My partner had believed the lie I had told her before I went, namely that I had to get away for a few days to clear my head. About a week later I told her the truth. Some might argue that I should never have told her. I don't know. Whatever I do, it's always wrong. Pathetic, aren't I?

Shrinks. I should go to them? Did you know that shrinks have one of the highest suicide rates? Even higher than fucked-in-the-head veterans? And they're going to help me? Yeah, right! Not once have I found a counsellor who I thought really understood anything I was telling them. They have no idea what it's like. None. Zero. Zip.

And the thing with feeling suicidal is that you can't really tell anyone because of the law. If you tell someone that you want to kill yourself, the authorites can lock you up in a psych ward against your will and do whatever they want with you. Once they've committed you "for your own protection" you lose all rights to refuse treatment. You have no say in what medication or treatment you will be subjected to. So they can use you as a guinea pig for whatever treatment they're experimenting with that week.

Read some books on this topic. There are heaps of them. Horror stories. There are people who were admitted under such conditions and never got let out again for years. Time and again the facts emerge that most of the symptoms for which they were kept in there were in fact caused by the side effects of the drug cocktails (or other "treatments") the psychopaths running such institutions were subjecting them to, and that the original depressive episode may well have run its course in a matter of days or weeks had those bastards not administered their "treatment".

Some years ago I was told by an acquaintance who works as a nurse in one of those institutions that no-one is subjected to electro-convulsive therapy (ECT) anymore. She assured me emphatically that I was wrong in my belief that they did. Well, some months later I read that it was still widely practiced and since then this has been reiterated in the media regularly. So who can you trust when even those within the profession blatantly bullshit unblinkingly to your face? I have since realised that she is a dope-dependent psychopath who despises mentally ill people. And she works with them. Her husband, who is a shrink, once told me that he only does it for the money (if he was joking, he didn't let on). And the system is not geared to detect the likes of them, be they nurses or shrinks. Be afraid. Be very afraid. The psychopaths are running the asylum.

I've got shitloads of stuff I could rant about, but for now I've said enough. It's 1.20am and I'm feeling sleepy enough to try going to bed now.

Goodnight.
.

9 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

I know how you feel old son, even though we haven't had the same experiences.

DS

May 21, 2005 11:03 AM  
Anonymous Guy said...

Cheer up Gerry. You've got to find something you enjoy doing and get stuck into it.

There are no easy answers to your questions, and nobody is completely capable of understanding the situation you are in. Life's a bitch a lot of the time but it's all we have.

May 21, 2005 1:42 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I know how you feel Gerry.

Ive got the pills, the alcohol and the mylanta to keep the pills down untli they do the job. I REALLY want to take them. I just dont think ive got the guts AGAIN.

Maybe thats a good thing. Maybe were not meant to die yet.

May 21, 2005 3:39 PM  
Blogger Deirdre said...

Of course you're not meant to die yet, anonymous: you're still here. And if that makes no sense - well, what does? It makes as much sense as anything else. You're here; stay. (Simple to say, not simple to do.)

Gerry, what do you need when you get like this? Sympathy, encouragement, a slap in the face, what?

May 22, 2005 12:30 AM  
Blogger Brownie said...

peace and love from me.

May 22, 2005 9:26 PM  
Blogger Brownie said...

but wait, there's more:
Mystic Medusa says for you Happy Birthday Geminis

Monosyllabic torpor coupled with tetchy paranoia? everything will be cool on Tuesday morning for Geminis and Virgos (me) when the moon is technically totally full.
don't laugh, just feel the vibe man.

May 22, 2005 11:06 PM  
Blogger Gerry said...

Thanks all for your kind words and support. Much appreciated.

On the topic of "how does one respond to one of Gerry's depressive outpourings?", I'm going to give that some thought and put something up as a new blog post just as soon as I can think of something which seems to make sense.

May 23, 2005 8:22 AM  
Blogger Jeremy said...

Gerry, please, when you're feeling like doing that, call one of the 24 hour counselling lines. (Although, admittedly, I don't know what they're like, and they may be staffed by incompetent boobs, and I'm only 29 and it might be a bit patronising given what you've lived and I haven't.) Hope you can work your way through this... as guy said, if you can find something you enjoy doing and get stuck into it, that should help.

Good luck..

May 25, 2005 9:18 AM  
Blogger Gerry said...

MrLefty, I've been on this rollercoaster for ten years now. I do appreciate everyone's sincere attempts to help me. Sometime people's obvious goodness even reduces me to tears. Like right now. But I think I have to walk this path alone. I'll admit I'm not a particularly bright 'walker', a stubborn one in fact, but I have to do it on my own.

I rang Lifeline once when I was really down, and all I got was some lunatic who, even though it's one of their own no-no's, told me all about how finding Christ saved him (he was an ex Vic copper). So I had a great conversation shoving Christ back up his arse and hung up on him. Why do these religions prey on the vulnerable? Is it because the vulnerable are ready to leap into delusion and hallucination if it offers them a way out? (rhet)

It does seem that these depressive rants of mine do nothing except cause well-intentioned people to offer their support only to find me reject it.

I think I should not post this sort of stuff here anymore. It's just yanking people's chains.

Anyway, thanks for your kind thoughts, Lefty. I do appreciate where you're coming from.

(Geez I must be a prick) :-(

May 25, 2005 9:49 AM  

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