Bipolar?

I HAVE just been scanning the internet to find out what on earth is supposed to be wrong with me. What I found out is not very reassuring.

~ It can't be drug-induced psychosis. That is a paranoid-schizophrenia type condition. I do get paranoia but the other stuff I get is way more extreme. I don't have the symptoms of paranoid schizophrenia or drug psychosis

~ I thought there was a condition called "substance-induced mood disorder (bipolar)" but there is not. Substance-induced mood disorder is mania, hypomania (mild mania), depression or a mixed state, all of which I've had in the past 2 months. What doesn't seem to happen in substance-induced mood disorder is that the mood switches poles eg from depressed to manic (as mine did about 3 or 4 weeks ago) and if symptoms last more than a month from last drug use it's generally NOT considered substance-induced

~ Drugs can worsen bipolar disorder (a phenomenon known as kindling) but this doesn't mean they necessarily caused it. Bipolar has a strong genetic component. If you have one parent with type 1* bipolar or recurrent depression, you have up to a 40% chance of getting bipolar i disorder [my mother "can tell by the calendar" when she's going to be depressed and it happens every year. Recurrent clinical depression]

~ Heroin flattened out my moods markedly. That was the first change I noticed in my life: no more mood swings. In fact I had practically no depression in the first 2 or 3 years, so to me heroin was a mood-stabilizer, a mood stabilizer that has now been taken away

~ heroin is not generally associated with drug induced mood disorders; the culprits tend to be crack, speed, ecstasy (uppers); cannabis; psychedelics and benzodiazepine withdrawal

~ at least 50% of people with bipolar disorder abuse drugs and even more abuse drink

~ I have had literally every symptom in the diagnostic criteria for both mania and depression in the last 2 months

~ the hallucinations I had were actually more extreme than is normal. Apparently when most bipolars hear voices they just hear murmuring sounds and can't make out the words, or hear their name. This stuff was going on with me years ago in depression. Now it's clear words, sometimes sentences, and one time a half-hour monologue; I also have seen visions that is I can stare at a blank wall and a movie appears (this only happened a couple of times when I was extremely hyper)

~ I don't have all symptoms at all times. Nobody does. It's impossible to hear voices in the most intense mania as my head is full of just a roaring noise and I make a roaring noise, think a roaring noise and am a roaring noise. This is what happens when you go so incredibly fast you can no longer think

~ Naomi at the drugs clinic who is a dual diagnosis professional thinks I'm bipolar

~ I have the same symptoms and experience as everyone at Nutter Club who is bipolar. But not the schizophrenics. Since I've been coming we've only had bipolar and schizophrenia in the room

~ I have had bipolar symptoms going back 15 years; in the beginning they were mild and transitory (first triggered by antidepressants); over time they have grown more extreme. And now look at me

~ I am not diagnosed bipolar. I just have all the symptoms.

~ And if you want my opinion: when I'm high I think it's fantastic and don't care what it's called; when I'm low the idea of actually being a real life manic depressive is equal to having no life at all

Comment if you like but don't call me a hypochondriac. You haven't seen me, you've only read me. Nobody who sees me doubts I have severe mental problems. I was so out of it one time a couple of weeks or so ago that one of my friends, a 50 year old man, cried

And if you believe I'm being negative, just bear in mind that telling myself I'm sick is the one thread of reality I have left when I lose it and I do lose it. If you think I exaggerate my experience do us both a favour and drop reading this blog. I tell it as it is

Yes I still feel hyper now but have barely any psychosis (yes you can be psychotic and know it: read Kay Redfield Jamison's memoir. She's type 1 bipolar and a clinical psychologist. Knowing the terminology didn't save her from utter madness. It saves nobody)

My situation is not as extreme as it was previously. It's 4:20 I'll do 5 mins in bed but if I don't sleep in that time I'm getting back up. And that's it.

I am not saying I'm bipolar. I'm saying I have all the symptoms. There's still a chance I could somehow get off the hook on this drug-induced thing but nothing I've heard seems to back this possibility up. So this is the situation. I still don't know, but I need to know. I'm fed up of not knowing.

One last thing: yes I think too much. That's another symptom of a manic episode. "Flight of ideas" (racing thoughts).

Night all. I'm doing that 5 mins in bed in a sec. I fully intend not to sleep. (Why waste the time?)

PS I've had ONE drink today a White Ace cyder at 3.75 units alcohol (at 10mls alcohol in a unit).

*type 1 bipolar is more severe than type 2, which involves depression (which may be severe) and mild mania. Type 2 never has psychotic features; type 1 involves full mania and 70% of sufferers become psychotic at some time or other. Hearing voices or seeing visions qualifies as psychosis, whether or not you're also "delusional"

For those who are interested, BipolarAbout.com probably has the best info on the condition.

I JUST SPOKE TO MY MUM i rang her yesterday when i was in a really good mood but she was out, now i'm feeling better i went to bed for ten minutes it's not good to sleep during the day i was feeling ILL physically SICK and EXHAUSTED i'm on tea and ProPlus I took 6x50mg caffeine that's no more than 2 Starbucks coffees and it did f-all to me. Personally i think TEA is stronger than pro-plus.

I don't know what's happening. I feel like an idiot for buying endless films endless endless enough to watch constant movies for days on end because it seemed like a good idea at the time and I kept thinking it's only 4x20B (£70) then another £10 then another £10 then I spent all the rent money and bought more thinking well fuck 'em.

What a diseased world we live in where I'm not even allowed to be in a good mood without it being labelled an illness. Fair enough I was a bit aggressive, confrontational and disinhibited to the point of calling Naomi's colleagues "cunts" but that's just the real me coming out. I spent YEARS depressed, just wanting to curl up and die. Now I'm not depressed and they want me to medicate my energy DOWN DOWN DOWN.

I could go on an alcohol bender because they tried that verbal trick on me where they say "alcohol is a depressant so it makes you depressed" which is actually a semantic trick. Does that mean because I'm hyper I can drink like a fish then? Well no. But it means their trickery is exposed as another druggie service con. Like "methadone stabilizes you" yeah pull the other one. That one has bells, whistles and the keys to Buckingham Palace jangling off it.

Methadone stabilizes you! Methadone stabilizes you! So that's why EVERYONE I have ever known on methadone uses HEAVILY on top. They use heroin because that makes you feel OK, methadone makes you feel suicidally depressed, well it did me. Nursey said it must be my "underlying mood". And promptly did nothing whatsoever to remedy this or help me. Nothing at all. Only when it gets so bad I think we're in 2012 and the walls are talking to me only then do they actually accept I was telling them something was wrong and telling the truth. Oh yeah and I waved and yelled at her last time she skulked past me into their little office where they hold their witches' coven, refusing to acknowledge my presence. This is Nice Nursey With Too Many Ideas, not Evil Bitch Nursey. I can't wait till I bump into Evil Bitch I'm going to tell her what I think of her. Naomi thinks I ought to calm down. Naomi's OK and I could see I was winding her up. Maybe I'd better drop this Nutter Club if I'm only causing chaos there. Whole point in going is to express how I feel. Now what I feel is unacceptable because it's too vehemently expressed, too passionate and too TRUE.

I'm off I have a pie to eat.

No I didn't cut up with that bottle. As I said the broken glass was blunt on every side so even when I pressed hard I only got cat-scratches. It means I wasn't meant to cut up. I just thought it might be therapeutic. Like a therapeutic relationship between me and some glass.

Hey I'm down very nearly to the Acceptable Limit drinks wise, that being 28 units per week, 280mls neat alcohol. Wow.

Persecution

O SHIT. TWO OFFICIALS FROM THE COUNCIL came round and refused to enter my lair!

Fair enough it is full of rubbish bags that I'm not sure whether or not I accidentally threw my passport into.

I don't know what I did when why wherefore or what to which whatever this that or another thing. Y'know?

To cut a long story short they asked whether I was on drugs and that one confused me I said what psychiatric drugs or street drugs?

We had this conversation on the street because I loudly said my Lovely Charming Best Freind Wankers Who Share This Building Would only earwig on us.

So random dog walkers listened in instead. About yes I'm on methadone no I'm not on heroin I don't care what they know, I put heroin and methadone on the original application form so it's no secret. O yeah and my drink has gone DOWN to 4.5 to 4.7 units a day which equals 33 units a week tops which is just one can over the government's recommended limit. I've switched to strawberry (4.5% vol) and cherry (4.7% vol) flavour cider, two half litre cans a day. See I did it! Cut my drinking down by a third in one go.

Anyway they put me on a real downer saying I'm getting some Vulnerable Adult person after me for not being able to take care of myself. Me my room and my life are now in equal chaos.

I told them I wasn't sleeping at all. I had all of 5 minutes sleep last night. I went to "bed" (on the floor as per usual) for half an hour but my brain was lit up so I just watched inner television, felt irritated then got up.

I felt physically exhausted and nauseated and that was before those nauseating people made it all worse. They were talking to me like I was a 3 year old.

Everyone treats me like I'm a nutter these days. Even that psychiatrist, who's the best shrink I've ever had, judging on impressions, was visibly shocked the first time he saw me when I was "ill" rather than just self-medicating depression on heroin (the state I was in for over five years).

Anyway I'm not hearing voices AT AlL so I can't be mad.

I'm so tired I really want to sleep. I hate sleeping it reminds me of being ill, it makes me think of dying and sleeping is what I do when I'm depressed. The more I sleep the more I'm likely to be depressed and I've already decided if I do get that label Bxxxxxxr stuck on me I'm putting myself to a quick and violent end.

I feel so sad writing that, like my life is a total waste and I regret ever having been born. It would have been so much better if I'd never been born all I have ever done is hurt and disappiont.

Well I'm going to go now. And probably not sleep. I've had enough I've really had enough I wish I could press a button and disappear.

O yeah that's another good thing about being off heroin. It means if I push a quarter ounce straight into my femoral I should never wake up ever again.


1147 Just smashed a bottle open on my cooker the fucking glass is too blunt even to cut my skin open just rubbishy paper cuts can't even do self harm i've had enough i want to sleep i want to sleep i want to sleep fuck this i want to sleep i want to sleep i'm not hearing voices i am perfectly sane i just need to sleep i have no money i blew every penny on dvds i have an entire armchair full now i want to sleep i want to fucking sleep that is all i want to sleep sleep sleep

Ever Decreasing Circles

16:24 I JUST READ BACK the miserable post below! I was wondering at myself for using such extreme sounding language about wanting to kill one part of myself and the other part taking over...? Now I realize despite having labelled it not at all relevant (hmmm!) ~ that what I read was actually my drug addiction speaking!

In addiction the three year old child rules!

In my madness the adult takes care of the child. The child plays, but the adult remains in charge. This is the case even in severe schizophrenia. I know a couple of schizophrenics; both are delusional. Both are on compulsory once fortnightly depot shots. One goes absolutely loony-tunes fruitloops when he's ill. And I've only seen him "half" ill, and that was ill enough for me. He gets so bad police have to pick him up for his own safety to hospital which he declares is "worse than prison" (how bad was the hospital or how cushy was the prison? That's what I wanna know!).

But even with these two, the parents must be in charge. Otherwise they'd get in far more trouble than they actually do!

This is what's heartbreaking about drug addiction. It's the only mental or medical condition I know of where your Lower Self (for want of a better expression: I don't know what else to call it) where your baser motives rule over you. You find yourself running with a different flow that is exhilarating as it is scary. Suddenly you can do whatever you want. And whatever you want is more-more-more of your drug of choice ~ probably heroin and/or crack. The people I hung around with were heavy IV heroin users. When we had £10s we bought a £10 bag (each). £15 bought £15. £20... £25 (3x£10) £30 (2x15 or one gram) £35 (2x£20) £40 (3x£15) £40 or £45 a "sixteenth" (1.5g) £45 (different dealer) or £50 a true sixteenth (1.75g) and so on. Any amount, in £5 increments was covered by one dealer or another.

Our entire existence revolved around getting money, phoning, waiting, meeting, using using using sleeping, up with a jolt "got to go to work" running to the begging pitch money money money phone bus wait score bus home (home was a disused factory at one time) candles burning: use use use. Sleep.

I had nightmares nearly every night at one point. I woke up laughing or screaming around this time, a lot.

Wake up in a blur. Same old same old still ever-going-round day.

I nearly always had drugs and/or money when I woke (carefully shoved in one sock) because I organized myself well that way. Unlike a crackhead, a heroin addict knows for sure they will need to use the next morning, so they make sure the ways or means are there. The idea of going sick was unconscionable. I hardly ever went sick without knowing a bottle of methadone or a few DFs weren't stashed somewhere and could save me. [I would rather wait for real gear, save the medication for absolute, utter desperation...] As junkies go I was an organized junkie.

So what happened? Over a period of years I lost faith in myself. Lost courage, lost energy, lost the will to go on.

I thought I wanted to die: perhaps I wanted to clean up.

Methadone never really worked for me. A day on methadone was a day of visceral misery punctuated by frequent trips to my chest of drawers for hits from ever-weakening twice-thrice-four times ~ here's a new bit! ~ filters.

It sometimes annoyed me that the drugs clinic appeared not to have the faintest idea what I meant by "craving". I meant "I will pick heroin out of dog shit and use it" I meant "I will inject a crusty old scab if I think an old heroin filter lies in the middle". I did inject my own crusted blood once. Made myself sicker than I've ever been, physically. I got a dirty hit so dirty I could barely walk the next day.

In the end I just got tired. "Sick and tired of being sick and tired" as they say (another NA expression). I don't think NA are my Saviour. I think I am my Saviour. God is my Saviour. NA are a tool, like a screwdriver that tightens a sqealing hinge. Apply your own oil. NA have a purpose, that purpose is to keep Addicts clean. So I use them what they're there to be used for. You don't spend £100 on a train ticket to Glasgow then expect it to fix your leaky roof. Likewise I cannot confide to a roomful of NA members my mental condition. I have a Nutter Club on Thursdays for that. I try and keep my ears open and my expectations reasonable.

So here you have it: me being positive.

I'm sorry about earlier, to anyone who was bemused or pissed off. I was merely letting off steam!

*******

18:28 I just googled someone I knew from uni, found him. It stressed me, made my head go fast-ast-ast-ast-ast like that-at-at-at-at echoing-oing-oing-oing-oing-oing which is not the same as the hearing words echoed, that's hallucination; this is thought smashing fast enough into itself to break into trailing sounds. Those antipsychotics are doing something. They keep me physically calm; I noticed that earlier today. When I'd otherwise be pacing or even dancing they keep my feet literally on the ground. How bizarre. And caffeine doesn't have such an "illegal" effect on TWO cups of tea or coffee, any more..!

*******

ACEN: TRIP TO THE MOON iii
Thanks Lizzy o yeah I remember this. Do you know I'd head of "trip to the moon" but never knew it was this one!




Illustrated: ever decreasing circles sourced from The Games Blog

Personality Transplant?

I AM SECOND GUESSING MYSELF now for being in a good mood. Last time this crap wore off* I felt like I'd been smacked round the head by a truck. This time I'm gently settling down. Although I didn't sleep last night, except 1:30am till 3am. 90 mins. I don't mind not sleeping. 1 sleep is a waste of time anyhow and 2 lack of sleep makes me feel happy. I went out and bought a DVD player today. Argos's cheapest at £19.99 + £2.49 for SCART lead. It works. I got it to play Mandarin Chinese at me, so I remember me tones now.

Then I did my own amateur cooking (haddock parsley sauce on broccoli florets on stuffed mushroom tortelloni). The food was yummy. That's another thing: will I have to inflict Iron Will on self to counteract antipsycho weight gain? Eating is just another addiction. Chained to the body, to the ground. I like feeling like energy, up in the sky. At my highest point I felt like I was flying in outer space looking back down at the tiny earth behind me.

This is the problem I have with NA: my mood. I'm so vehement my talk goes through the room like an electric jolt. Or I cannot focus at all and only catch the chair (the speech at the beginning: somebody's life story). Or a couples of shares (people's reaction to a life story I haven't heard or just their account of their day (which I prefer); if there is a silence then I speak. I'm not shy about sharing, but it annoys me having to edit out what's actually going on (my lovely potty mental condition) and talk about what isn't at all relevant because it barely crosses my head (my drug habit). I only talk in terms of drugs as they are terms of reference I think of in terms of energy, mood and feeling good. I have never felt good not on drugs, bar a very few occasions. Not in my adult life, where I was depressed or ill a lot of the time, or in low-grade depression for more.

Talking about personality I hated the mousy person I was and would gladly have watched him be smacked by an express train over and over again. Loathing. Not even self loathing: that person is someone else. I will kill him. He can die. He is not me. That's how I feel about that one. I hate that person, which is why I decided if I got bipolar disorder I'm doing myself in, there is no point living like that. No point living like me. That's my view, not my mood, not a swaying whim.

Then on the other hand I have More Iron Will and think: if you don't like who you are CHANGE IT. If you don't like your life CHANGE IT. If you don't like drugs DON'T DO THEM. If you want to be OK ~ DO RECOVERY. See I have two opposing characters fighting constantly. The stronger one is so far winning but I hate the weak one with a passion and still want it dead. Yeah I will get rid the nice way by "changing". I'm still mighty pissed off with that person.

I know this is going to look all messed up in the head but I'm posting anyhow. I'm not unhappy today I'm just angry with this person who has messed my life up by being sappy, feeble and pathetic. Forget drug addiction. That's for NA to obsess about. I'm talking my entire life. You wonder why yesterday I said I "had nothing to go back to" ~ well I didn't want to go back to that life-destroyer. A slow destroyer. I don't even want to talk about that person so I'm going now.

Don't worry about me I'm OK I'm not depressed at all, I'm just ANGRY at myself. I have to BE myself but I don't want to be who I was I want to be who I am now and a better version at that!

This is my life goal.


*the crap in question is the mental health thing I'm getting antipsychotics for, not a drug state!


PS re NA it's paranoia that makes it so difficult, people looking at me, sitting right next to me, hemming me in... all that stuff. I know my attention span is lousy. I wouldn't be able to post if I couldn't touch type. At least with posting I have the luxury of stopping and smoking cigarettes. The time of the post is nearly always the time posted, not begun. OK I'm off, take care and don't let me get to you. I don't want to get to anyone, I'm just letting off steam, I'm fed up with myself.

Sunday Noon Entertainment/ Alcohol Report

THIS POST IS REALLY FOR MORE MUSIC (see below). I slept about 10 hours from midnight to 10am. Took 2x2mg Risperidone 1x7.5mg zopiclone; had 2 or 3 drinks (500ml White Stars/White Aces 7.5% vol alcohol). The day before yesterday I drank about 5 of them. Today I'm sticking to 2, or even 1 if I can do it.

2 drinks I can get to quite easy. 1 in the morning; 1 in the afternoon. Going below that has been difficult. I could cut out the morning drink most easily.

The Dual Diagnosis Worker phoned me the other day, post Psych Dr Appointment; we talked about ways of reducing. Everybody says I want to switch drinks as White Cyder is "gutrotting" and "has never seen an apple". It is NOT a romanticized evening Cyder House near Stonehenge beautiful Keats Ode to Autumn type drink. It is liquid Brillo pads, for homeless street drinkers to get pissed-up as quick and as cheap as possible. Mixed with tropical fruit mixed cocktail it's a beautiful budget alcopop. And probably super-bad for my teeth. Which are acid-eroded enough (to quote the toothpaste commercial).

OK so that's me and drink. I don't know my mental state it's probably higher than normal still but high feels good. I only say "high" knowing now what that is and how it reacts and how it feels (not the same as drug high, by any means: feels more "normal" goes off like a Pinnnnng--gggggg-ing Pika at no notice. Is intensely cheered by social situations. Speaks quick. Is highly distractable. Is paranoid more on the lower levels than the high ones, when it is full of grandeur...) so that's me.

I'm OK. I hope I'm staying on topic and being relevant.

Anyway here's music!

FUTURE SOUND OF LONDON: PAPUA NEW GUINEA
Thanks Lizzie



OBIE TRICE: GOT SOME TEETH
Hilarious. I love this "song"; only rap thing I really like



SNEAKER PIMPS Spin Spin Sugar ( Armands Dark Garage Mix )
Thanks Lizzie




ARMIN VAN BUUREN FT. SHARON DEN ADEL - In and Out of Love (Official Music Video)



Illustrated pinging pikas: they live up mountains in North America and Central Asia, look like a bunny rabbit crossed with a hamster. They ping everywhere, and collect bunches of flowers to hoard and eat when the flowers rot down. Russian Dwarf hammies live in disused pika burrows....


13:25 severe hunger pangs; going up Iceland for a Family Steak Pie (proper chunks of steak, no mince) which I eat with mixed veg dumped on top (there's enough carbs in the crust in my view...)

Energy

ENERGY FLASH!

IS this an energy-saving lightbulb of a tune... so SLOW. That's what hacked me off about Opus III last night TOO SLOW i want fast fast faster fast fastererr something faster than me. Which is hard to find as I was going to fast yesterday I was incoherent.

Somebody phoned me right while I was going into one big time. Not upsset. Just ultra hyper high high sky ong ong pingpongtingtong bong bong ongongong between uproariously laughing and doing a noise like a food mixer rourourourouround what what what what what? Who is this who who who? All that. What DO I DO KEEP IT SIMPLE.

That upset someone so much they CRIED WHY WHY CRY GO HI HI HI HELLO HERE NOW WHAT IS ALL THAT FUSS ABOUT

Well that's what happened. I feel like I'm on Magic Speed you know that ADHD stuff that calms people down. Note the LACK OF A FULL DRUG SCREEN* this is making me para that I got spiked somewhichwise. What can I do not to be spiked? Not eat? Not drink. Not ever sleep. Not ever let anyone near me. Not breathe the air as fentanyl gas can flood the air, as was used in the Russian theatre raid. I wished I'd been in there. Fentanyl is an ultra-strong opioid. I'd have got a real nice hit outta that. When I was into drugs.

Now it's just me on ME FREE (hee-hee!!)

[I'm adding this afterwards: re the drugs screen it wasns't "full" in that it "only" tested for Opiates (heroin/morphine/codeine etc), Cocaine (including crack), Amphetamines, Methadone, Benzodiazepines and THC ie Cannabis. Methadone is what I'm on!]

O man this wasn't meant to rhyme it was meant to be all cool and chilled and coherent. I did actually get 3 to 4 hours' sleep on that zopiclone. The minute it started wearing off I was BL-IDDLE-DIDDLE-PING-NG-NGGGGGGGG!!! AWAKE!!!

And raving in my kitchen. Raving mad. Dancing. Eh. At a rave, in my kitchen. At one time I found a knife I started dismantling a cardboard box then chucked it into a corner. "I AM A KNIFE-WIELDING MANIAC!!" that one thing was too much. Being a maniac and wielding a knife. NO!!!!

I'm not into headfucker stuff. Enough is enough. I thought I was OK then my mind started playing games or I started playing games with my mind and we both started racing together very very quick quick

(how can I POSSIBLY be on drugs? no drug ever makes anyone rush that fast. ever. only one to come near it (on me) is Hard Acid. And I do mean a full-on trip, tripping enough to have trouble with your name, to interdimensionalize so you don't know what dimension you're in. In this state the number of thoughts, impressions, illusions and all that can alter so very many times a second it's impossible to follow. SPEED DOES NOT DO THAT. NEITHER DOES COKE. OR CRACK. OR E. So what fucking drug is is?? Except 2 cups of black coffee. Yesterday when I thought I'd had 2 I'd actually only had 1. Cup 2 had gone cold, forgotten about as I pinged all over the place.

everybody thinks i should be in a mental hospital. everybody thinks i am mad. i am quite sane. i'm only going in there if i totally break apart, in which case i will need an ambulance i won't be able to get there myself

or if i'm so very hacked off and/or despairing or tired or just WANT TO GO IN it's not that terrible. it's GOING in i don't want not BEING in BEING in is fine. lots of people don't want to leave. why do you think care in the community is such a disaster? half the people don't get cared for, the other half do, but would rather be in a nuthouse because at least in there if you're going cuckoo there's not the headfuck of trying to have to inter-decide between howevermanylines of illusions and delusions and what is what from this that and some other angle what you should or should not be doing at any given time you can just DO IT. people who annoy each other have space to avoid one another. it is not prison.

there are no locked rooms. there are locks on the ward doors, mainly to prevent people wandering aimlessly outside, not perhaps intending to be there.

people who can organize, decide know what they want and why (and it's not self-harm or suicidal) are free to leave

other people who cannot do these things, they don't and nearly always don't actually want to.

the only locked room i know of is a cool-down room and that's in the ward for people who misbehave (that's basically why they're put there). in a mental hospital misbehaving means being violent to a person (not an object). violence to an object might well get you wrestled down and needled with something yummy like quetiapine or olanzapine or whatever

the last time i saw it i remember it was a patient who rushed across and told the nurse how many mgs of what shot to make up, i'm sure it was

the nurses come from downstairs or upstairs. other wards. they're probably on that duty that day, know they're free to go. the buzzer goes off so out and in they pile.

what was the point of all this? o yeah the entertainment of watching it happen. best time i recall was a bipolar pensioner with "the fbi want me as their number one spy" style paranoia. he was told he was "too high" though doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING re racing about, rushing, kicking anything throwing ~ nothing except irritable if i remember correctly WITH A SPECIFIC MEMBER OF STAFF

it is possible to be psychotic, not by any means ravingly, and justifyably ANNOYED

anyway because of his paranoia this guy who told lots of funny stories about driving very rapidly up the motorway between London and Manchester, never getting punished for being bipolar (ie treated) until his 60-something-th year he said "i want a witness for this" M and I were more than happy to be witnesses.

we were in the smoking room anyhow, not smoking (for a split moment, that's all most nutters do) but eating m&ms I wish we'd had popcorn it would have been highly appropriate

so we had feet up on chairs, probably entertained looks on faces as the highly confrontational male nurses did their confronting

some bastard turned to M and me and said " you two had better go" AARKKHH ~~ kind of any thought of "but we were asked to be witnesses" went as indulging pensioner-paranoia was only an excuse. Entertainment was the reason for being there I think we all knew that. Apart from the paranoia pensioner who was spiked up so intensively he was snoring all afternoon. with a faintly guilty/bored looking nurse having to stand watch.

not because there was any chance he would wake up and do anything remotely "manic"

(despite the one female nurse's first words being "we think you've gone too high" (that ain't high. saw that at the time. know it now. bullshit. be psychotic and/or manic or paranoidly "ideated" as they say and ANGRY and you get this delicious treatment

which is no motivation but an attraction an "it's not that terrible" it's on that list

the "I will be made homeless" list is the opposing one as that basically is what shall happen to me if i ever end up in that nuthouse.

So I'm avoiding it like several plagues.

My reason. Not mine. Druggieworker's reason for my being in an emergency assessment had nothing to do with hospitalization or being sectioned (which means committed) it had everything to do with a trained doctor witnessing who i actually AM that is the point and when the other one said why are you here i said because I am in a mess and I want help and I need a social worker. That is what I need more than a hospital. A person who knows me and knows what absolutely irrelevant forms are informed upon me blah blah blah blah you see this is

this is my coping mechanism.

when something bothers me i smack it right out of my head. successfully.

i also smack stress and negativity (that is negative thoughts, not the feeling) OUT of my head.

i whack them out using no chemical at all. no heroin smack. nothing but the force of my own will gets rid of these things so i do not worry, don't turn anything over and over my head worrying. not my style

(as anxiety leaflet given out by nursey who HADN'T LISTENED WHEN I SAID ITS NOT ANXIETY (which I KNOW I once had it for years I KNOW THAT FEELING it's a gripping of the heart, a trepidation)... I felt IRRITATION which is like sunburn on your arm or any burn. You can stroke it with a feather and it's still IRRITATING and IRRITATION was my response to the world and my reason for avoiding it. And a feeling of overload. NOT anxiety.

and here's a point i can at last follow through 3 paragraphs. anxious thoughts you can SLAP OUT OF YOUR HEAD. irritation is not a thought as such, but a feeling, it's much less cognitive than anxiety

anyway this coping mechanism might also be my disability as something is stopping me engaging. i am disengaged. if i DID engage i couldn't cope. Engaging means engaging with stuff I can't deal with.

Geddit now?

Trying to explain makes it clearer in my head. I've got to know what I'm up against to be able to cure it. Get round it. Bend it. Change it.

See successful self-analysis. And my big "I DON'T NEED COUNSELLING" reason.

Counselling is too much too soon. Not what someone going 3691q3476t51234124097y076799900 miles per hour needs. I have had it before. I resent accounting my life to somebody i know nothing about. I "have" to do it. I don't "have" to do a blog I choose to. I might feel I owe people an explanation or an update because they are my freinds but I don't "have to go" because it'll look bad on some care approach plan form. Y'know?

Hope this hasn't been too rabbitty. I'm leaving it there. I am going to NA tonight but am TRYING to get there on time this time. I never know the exact time. Never know. Just get there. Usually late. I can't do anything on time there's too much in between.

OK I'm off now because my head is going too quick again. Bye!

JOEY BELTRAM: ENERGY FLASH
This 1990 tune was represented to me as "really old". In 1992.



FANTAZIA MAY 1992 "GURN TIME" RAVE FOOTAGE
gurning is pulling "high on stimulants" faces, characteristic especially of ecstasy-type drugs.

note a distinct lack of energy in that crowd. what's wrong with them all?? the less cheesy more abstract ketaminey 2nd tune is way better than the 1st one



DJ SEDUCTION STARLIGHT RAVE
this style of breakbeat + the "bad boy" crap the MC keeps up is the origins of jungle aka drum & base

wow this music is fantastic. breakbeat hardcore almost definitely 1992. it says it dunnit: 21st August 1992

1 min 50 seconds "ride the fucking rush" where the music saying followmewannabewhatever i wannabe THAT is the vibe of my brain insane ha hahahahahaha!! and 7 mins 7 seconds where its bleepy on top of breakbeat that is it that is itititititititit thatsit!!!



Illustration: Castlemorton 1992 huge illegal Spiral Tribe etc rave. Spiral Tribe were very abstract. Chaos Stuff which works better in visuals than music. True chaos visuals are screens of black and white lines or dots and your own mind makes the illusion. Doesn't work quite so well with music in my opinion

In answer to some comments

THESE ARE SOME COMMENTS I got at my Gun to My Head post:

Syd said ...
If you know that you are lost and messed up, why not make a decision to be found and not messed up. If detoxing makes you hyper and pace, then detox while picking up the place and pacing back and forth with the bags of garbage and such. There is a solution Gleds. Look for the solution and not at the problems and why you can't do this or that. I agree with you that trying is BS. Taking good positive action with bettering your life would help you and help us who care about you.

29 December 2010 00:45


BeenThere said...
Syd hit the nail on the head. What you look at is what you'll see and what you look for is what you'll find. If you develop your many positive, innocent interests, and start viewing yourself as an instrument (for better or worse) you'll begin doing better. No one blames a hammer for breaking a window. Allow positive influences to motivate you.

We can all feel bad about stuff, or miserable with the state we're in - but it's all relative.

You've got in your states through not coping for various reasons. Every individual gets where they are through not coping in the way others think they should. We all get labelled. People deal with their lot in different ways. Bad mothers and fathers are just as human as kids who suffered because of them. They were also kids once.

Past sh*t is just that and should be flushed away. Keep stirring it up with a stick and it will continue to be a stink in your nostrils.

Too much time spent in self-analysis is wasteful, especially when your life is stagnant through drug addiction. Live a little and analyze new material. Delving into your sickness of mind is also a waste of time by now.Concentrating so much on that makes you sicker. Instead, wonder at how well your mind functions in so many ways, in spite of all the abuse you've thrown at it.

Perception of good and evil can be triggered by electrodes as well as by chemical abuse, as can various moods from joy to despair, from blind terror to uncontrollable mirth - none of which are "real".

When you dwell on the effects that chemicals or sadness have on your state of mind, you cause them to become a "reality" for you, but it is just your own perception.

You can change the way your brain is wired, takes about 3 months to a year - it has been scientifically proven. Bad tempered individuals have been able to train their behaviour in a way that re-wires the connections in their brain. It required effort, and they got headaches, but it worked.

You can develop a "can do" attitude to replace the "disabled" one which is not a true reflection of who you are, but who you have become. You are in control. Not the past, not the way you are or were wired, not alcohol,not heroin or any other drugs, and not your "loving mother" or any other people. You are not disabled in mind or body.You have family who love you. You are so lucky with so much to fight for.

30 December 2010 16:57


Anonymous said...
what about a normal picture of yourself?

31 December 2010 04:02


Gledwood said...
Syd: I did make a decision to be found and not messed up. HEROIN did that perfectly for me. Without heroin I hear fracture up, hear voices, dissociate and am prone to uncannily powerful (and not so powerful) mood swings. It's absolutely impossible to "Decide" not to be that way. That's WHO I AM. Come on Sid! I'm not saying that's a bad way to be. It's far better than being "normal". But not conducive to engaging with this world that is too shitty to bother with anyway. Ie I have an alternative coping mechanism that is FAR SUPERIOR to drugs, as it's cheaper, inherent to me and nobody can ever take it away


BeenThere: I'm not disabled. Only conventional thinking says that. I'm fine. The world is disabled. Their idea of reality is lying in a cold bath freezing feeling suicidal. I'd rather be who I am then who THEY think I should be any day. So that IS WHO I AM.

Anon: those pictures aren't me. I never have and never will post up a picture of me. If I did I'd close my blog and stop posting
3 January 2011 18:26

I think people are reading more into what I said than I actually did. Surely there is nothing unusual in having a more rational part of your mind who guides your person, divorced from your actual self who is what that person is...

I am quite happy in my own fractured way. Heroin was the best drug I ever found to hold my various aspects together. Still they did not make sense one to another. They barely communicated and why should they?

All the past week the experience I had when I "went crazy" came back at a lower grade. Every night and sometimes in the day I have been hearing voices. Hearing voices is good. Being lost and fragmented is a good thing. It means I am disengaged from the chilly misery of concenus reality. Being lost is good, because it means I am lost from what you might call reality, I call suffering.

I only think there is something wrong, not because I feel "bad" but because I know that by not engaging the supposedly responsible side of me is doing nothing. Hence the mess I live in.

Yes sometimes I do feel bad, that's a kind of depression. Sometimes I feel good. Sometimes extremely good. I don't care whether I'm hallucinating or not. Hallucinations put you in touch with the greater reality. If you're not hallucinating you're a poorer soul than me. You are utterly stuck in the mundane half-life people call Living a Life. When you're stressed I bet you feel bad. When I feel stressed, I often feel euphoric.

Where does this idea come from that to feel lost I must inevitably spend hours and hours dwelling on past events and misery? Did I ever tell anybody I did that? If you heard that, you weren't hearing what I say. When I say "I had depression since childhood" I'm stating a fact. I'm not delving into that depression, or whatever reasons might or might not be behind it. I'm giving a pure statement of fact. I barely EVER consider my childhood. I tell you I had depression since then as I don't flatter myself that every single reader of my blog should peruse every single post I've ever written and arrange them into a scheme. A lot of my writing is shortcuts for the new, the forgetful or those with attention spans such as mine: ie poor ones. Please read what I put, not what YOU might mean if YOU put it.

As I said before I barely indulge in self-analysis, except when, for example, constructing a timeline that explains the inexplicable. I have had to do this to be able to tell psychiatrists what happened and when. So very many times I've oversimplified only to be written off. Their how long probably means "when were the first signs and when did it taper away" ~ my how long means "what was the very peak of an experience". Two very different time frames. Only recently did I realize the confusion this has caused. Not that those headshrinkers give a flying turd what happened or when but I owe myself to answer accurately.

It's not natural to live in the plasticated world we live in. If I'm coping better with it than you, you want to ask yourself WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU???!

NOW LET'S LEAVE IT AT THAT!!

I want my house clean because it will get my pettyminded landlord and pathetic housemates off my back. The rest of my life I'm happy to go on living as a trip.

Life is tripping. Dreams are tripping. Consciousness is the ultimate trip. You do not need drugs of any kind to trip. I'm happy as I am. There's nothing wrong with me. It's the world who's broken and fractured. If I'm not entirely together, that's techtonic pressures of the world putting undue duress on me.

So thank y'all for those comments. "Disabled" is the box the UK Government's benefits system wants to chuck me and many like me into. I don't see myself as disabled. They do. So I'm only disabled inasmuch as they insist on seeing me that way. Just about the unhealthiest way of anyone seeing anyone else. I go through life pretending to be well. I never pull an "I'm sick act" unless I'm at the end of my tether. Then I realize, "hey the Government say I'm sick so who are YOU (e.g. my landlord) to disagree! The entire system is far sicker than I ever was. I know people with paranoid schizophrenia and the Government is considerably sicker than them also!

I will be fine. I knew I'd not be the same off opiates. Opiates gave an illusion of several spheres integrating into one person. You are all like me. You might wish to consider yourself otherwise but you are just like me. Set those spheres free. One day you may hear Music of the Spheres. And that, my friends, is SUBLIME.

Mental health organization: hearing voices

THIS POST IS NOT AN ATTACK ON SYD, OR BEEN THERE OR ANONYMOUS. DON'T TAKE MY RANTING PERSONALLY PLEASE, Y'ALL HIT ON A VERY PERTINENT NERVE

THAILAND, land of smiles...

Ko Pha Ngan Full Moon Party



Thai girls dancing, Ko Pha Ngan Full Moon Party

Psycho Terror!

HERE'S MY IMPRESSION of what a Psycho Dr Really Is And Does...
Sorry for the ambiguous picture. The others I looked up REALLY DID MY HEAD IN.I seem to have got distinctly thin-skinned recently.

O man. How did I get here (I ponder, not!)
Too confused for too much pondering, me!

CAVE IN (scrupulously avoided, with heroin-like horror going anywhere near any "mental" write up since declared self (or world) mental): Ended up manically checking diagnostic criteria in order to cut short "manic episode" ideas by a good day or two. (Because I didn't get hospitalized after 3 days but before 7 and... o getting confused. Basically it's gotta last 3 days then you get hospitalized, or at least 7 days and to clear it all up I'm not at all sure I've... been so badly out of my right mind for that much more than a week at most. Bloody psycho dcotors. Forcing me to second guess myself!! Hate 'em. Hate it (thinking about self). Obviously love spouting off crap on blog as y'all see. But not really into serious self-analysis. Or serious anything.

Re Psycho Doc Situations: I know I shouldn't talk like that, but the way I see it, it's my job to be severely Confused and/or Desperate; theirs to shove me away, or lock me up and never let out; or mistreat (severely); or prescribe dangerous medication to (would rather have a bit of that fun back than risk going near Physical Hospital, partly because I've seen what happens to people in need of both physical and psychiatric attention, but deemed on the psych side. Nutnut nurses don't know HOW to care.

O no no no no no. What you will have read, if you didn't skip right down here, will be an edited version that tries to clarify mud basically. So if anybody gets a Clear Idea of anything: I Don't.

I am v fed up and annoyed. And was surprised that last night, when I thought I was OK but just tired, annoyed, avoiding people, I should kind of go off rocker in car. "Mental health person" in post below is kind of friend of friend type person I came to by accident yesterday night and wasn't expecting to be there. Otherwise makes it look like this wonderful supportive network is all there when I need it when actually it barely is. I thought it wasn't there at all, that I had no friends. Then I realized (by having to explain away bad behaviour, to put it bluntly) that I did.

I just had to bang out some more crap as I'm terrified of being sectioned under the nasty mental health act (don't think even the lawyers know what year ~ some time in the dark ages). I don't think I'm going anywhere. Unless I end up being "hostile" to a dr. (Ie going off on one a step too far.) Bitter experience has shown me that these people ... are just annoying people, like most people. That's why I don't trust them.

Well I'm sure this has been a rivetting read. Gone way past wondering whether anything might interest anyone. Too tired, jaded, uncared-for/uncaring/unUN for that.

Is it Distinctly Unwise to just click Post and run off? When blog is only meant to be non-fascinating stream of consciousness?

IN A NUTSHELL: I JUST HOPE I SLEEP.

As no sleep means ragged and insomniac-feeling at best, likely to go off like a dingbats fire-alarm from hell at worst.

Please please please stay calm. I need to come across as calm. (Don't care what ACTUALlY AM, long as it appears Calm). Hopefully to make confused account of what supposedly Brings Me Here utter lies. Because what things seem and what they are are precisely the same thing. So if I'm seen to have concocted a story you'd have to be utterly cracko to come in and tell to a psycho doc ~ then I'm lying. When actually I just did a real nice job of keeping still and Behaving. And not being inappropriate.

I used to think I was dead grown up, in some little ways. I wouldn't be presumptuous enough to think I was anything good at all now.

Akh!! I'm off. Hope this has captured some icy terror in face of Dingbats Doc stuff. Then when I'm 84 and have a Printed Copy (bc the internet won't exist then) I can have a real good laugh. If I ever live till 84 and if I am actually able to laugh at that age. I wouldn't put anything past myself now. True lack, utter lack of any sense of self worth. I mean how would you feel if you knew you had got to a pretty short space from being sectioned, just 5 days ago?

Well I'm fully intending to come home after this appointment. Sorry for going on. I mean if you wanted something really boring I should have committed to internet the thought process that went on after I realized I might actually get diagnosed Schizophrenic. That was a good one!! Excepting Jumpf Off Bridge crap (see below: thought had missed methadone chemist (well what other way is there of dealing with a situation like that??)) that was the last time I seriously had a nasty urge to do myself in. This morning.

O that sounds sad. Ho-hum. Well I STOPPED HEROIN didn't I. Anyone having a real good laugh at this, look in the mirror and ask yourself, what's your poison? Or are you just poisonous??
Hope y'all realize this is only meant to be stream of consciousness and not to be picked over for hidden meaning. Otherwise I would never post, never cease second guessing myself... and NEVER SLEEP!!

PS just looked all this crap over after posting. no i didn't "edit" anything. just kind of randomly added chaos to confusion.

pps sorry i probably should/said i would check emails but if i get through that needle's eye at this hour i truly never will SLEEP

Me/Valerie/etc

I still have not slept. The trip to the chemist to get methadone was the all-time pits with people swearing and spitting. Only way to deal with it was remind self it is called "paranoia" and not real. But that's not easy. My mind is still tripping out, everything sounds incredibly loud. People on the street do my head in. I still hear voices words coming from everywhere. I have stopped worrying that I am losing my mind and trying to have fun with it. It is a bit like free drugs. Still there are dinnerplates and bottles and glasses everywhere. I mention this because anyone who's been genuinely suicidal will know instantly what these items can very quickly be used for. But I don't feel depressed I just feel weird. I am trying to blame it on bad heroin, but am not at all sure that is true. I actually rang the nuthouse earlier. First thing I mentioned was the drugs, I'm not hiding that one. I asked whether anyone has menttioned trippy stuff in heroin he said no. And there is the place they would know about it if geaer was sending people crazy. If anything I think what's doiong it is NO GEAR. I have been self-medicating for years (not my expression, drug clinic came up with that one) and now I'm not self-medicating and methadone is just a hopeless replacement for heroin. I'm only not complaining about it because I am so fed up of drugs of all kinds I never want any more ever again. Including sleeping pills even though I can't sleep and I know 3 people who would give me them. I have never been the type by the way to take 4 or more downers at once and spend the evening hanging off a lamppost. I only ever used them to sleep.

Anyway subject change. I haven't got a photo of her, bc she's an international narcotics trafficker, wanted in 46 countries. But meet Valerie, who comes from St Kilda in melbourne. (Is St Kilda even v posh? I have no idea. I just made Valerie's house enormous.)

The Anna in question is Anna Grace in Wisconsin, who Viv desperately hopes knows a good heroin chemist to turn the next crop of Burmese poppies into top grade shit!

Val said...
Hi Babes Melbourne here. I have a 700kg delivery of that lovely Burmese white sugar coming through Sunday evening. Should come in at Sydney Harbour on a North Korean registered ship at around 1800 hrs. So I'll be getting me spoon out in readiness for a fresh new batch. The shit we're on at the moment is, quite frankly, stale. I know what orifices it has been in, whose they were and for how long. And yet still I'm banging away at it like crazy. As for the baby, guess what that was? Gall bladder problems!
Now I MUST HAVE A MOAN about the police. Have they nothing better to do than harrass innocent housewives like me? There I was driving down the lane, taking my 8 and 12 year old (don't know whose the 12 year old is, but he ain't bruce's that's for sure. Bruce has strawberry blond hair and blue eyes. This kid looks African! I said oh it must be a genetic throwback as I'm partially Australian aboriginal, and he bought it! Plus a 17 carat blue diamond sparkler for me neck. We were doing real well on the China white back then. Importing tonnes of the stuff. Those kids out there in Sydney and Melbourne go crazy for the stuff. I'm not that into it meself. Only do an eighth a day me. Which isn't much when you know there's still 44kg we haven't bothered to fish out of the fuel tank on the rusty old tractor back at our farm (near Perth, Western Aus, lovely place to bring up the kids. Only Bastard Bruce, always after a Brucey Bonus (got that one from shit british tv we get imported in on cable. Sell shit, you buy shit. Law of the jungle, darling.
Now Anna my dear I know you are well connected, tell me where can I get one thousand metric tonnes of acetic anhydride? I nead it real quick.
Those peasants will be scraping away at those weeds in not too long! Would you spend all day in the long hot sun just so some bastard in Western Aus or wherever could get high? I wouldn't. Keep it for meself, I would. Apart from that 44kgs which had fucking better be where they're supposed to be, or there truly will be trouble I proomise you that. Apart from that we've barely 80g left and that has to last me and Bruce possibly into next week if those North Koreans get lazy. Ukk. How bad can life get.
Anyway I was having a rant at the police dear wasn't I?
Yeah, just driving merrily along. Delivering the little sweeties to school. Having a nice pipe on crack behind the wheel, as you do, when some bastard pulled me over. At first I thought he thought it was a mobile phone! Gave me a real talking to about "drinking at the wheel" I never said "darling that was crack cocaine you just saw" me head was really whooshing there was a good $20 worth of Bolivia's best on that pipe. Surprised I ccan drive at all the amount I smoke.

December 4, 2010 12:19 AM


Val said...
I'm not a crackhead though. Don't they work in whorehouses and stuff. O yeah I used to. O ho hum. Shit happens. Well assuming this shipment comes in OK and you can sort out this Mr Kim/whatever the fuck he's called. Long as he's Chinese and can turn a China White he's for me. Tell 'im to bring 7 tonnes hydrochloric acid, 7 tonnes ethyl alcohol 7 tonnes ether. We have a big batch to stir up in those there hills!
By the way we have 12 brands going at present. As well as the Double Uo Globular, there is Panda, 999, 5 Star, Magic Monkey, and rabbit brand. Did the design on that one meself. Two rabbits howling at the moon with some shit in Chinese going down the side. Got it from a Chinese takeaway menu. Aparently it means number 26 with fried rice.
Anyway rabbit brand means it's real crap. Double Lion's (aka UOGlobe's the best). Am I giving you an education in China white here? I wanted to launch a new one called Herpes Brand "keeps coming back" but Bruce doesn't approve. Possibly because we both have it.
Honestly you would not believe the amount of emailing we have to do just to secure ten tonnes of illegal narcotics from Burma to here!
I hope the police aren't reading this. Surely they have better things to do. Knocked at the door the other day to inform me I'd left an upstairs window open and did I know, what with the spate of recent thefts and all (bastard junkies, doncha hate 'em!) Long as the fucking heroin's where it should be everything's OK. Anyway must dash. More crack to pipe before another fucking school run. Oh no because it's Saturday. Thank God for a day off!!
Anyway you get your Mr Kim here pronto and I'll get ya a big pot of neat dilaudid, how does that sound. I also manufacture that and that oxy shit those Americans are into. Oh sorry you're American. Scuse me French. I'm Australian, that's all. Well I must dash. Police at the door AGAIN. What do they want this time?!!