Gut Rumbles
 

April 09, 2005

let's compare notes

This blog is a really good read. I couldn't sleep tonight and I found the link in my referrals. I clicked on one post and ended up reading the whole damned thing.

Personal opinion? She elaborates somewhat, which is just fine for a writer. But I'be BEEN in a similar situation (it took me 45 days to get out of it--- although you NEVER really get AWAY from the memories) and I can identify with a lot of what she says. Abject helplessness is too kind a term to describe the way you feel sometimes when your life is no longer your own and you are under constant guard (by some people who are a lot weirder than YOU are) for 24 hours every day.

Yeah, I've been to the nut-house. That's where I learned that I really wasn't crazy. I SAW actual crazy in there, and I knew that I didn't qualify. But if that ain't a lot like being in prison, I don't know what else is.

Stay there long enough and you will GO crazy, because it is a completely Kafkaesque world. Everything you do is regimented and you have no contact with the outside world. Some fat, faggot-looking bastard comes and shines a flashlight in you face once every hour all night, every night. Try to sleep with that shit happening to you.

I was on a "suicide watch" at the time, which meant that I couldn't take a shower, shave, brush my teeth or even have a pair of reading glasses without a burly orderly standing watch over me the entire time. (Yeah... an attempted suicide is what landed me in there to begin with) I had a head-shrinker interview me every day and he always asked the same dumb question: "Rob, are you still thinking about killing yourself?"

That's about as stupid as it gets. What kind of answer did he expect? If I say "yes," I'll never get out of there. If I say "no," he doesn't believe me. Pure assininity.

I blew up one day and cussed that bastard to hell and back. My room was supposedly "suicide-proof." I didn't have a bathtub, because I might drown myself. I had a mirror made of polished stainless steel so that I couldn't break it and slash my wrists. I wasn't allowed to write with anything except a soft-point felt pen, because I might stab myself with anything sharper.

But they put plastic can-liners in my garbage can, they a glass window in the room and they put me in with some fuckers that were more likely to kill ME than I was to kill myself by then. They have some spooky fuckers in there.

Plus, they gave me all the vicodin, soma, ambiane and nicotine patches I whined for. I could have saved up a few days worth of that and pulled a REAL Kamikaze exit.

I told that idiot: "You wanna see how somebody with a lick of sense kills himself in this "safe" room? How about I just take that trash-can liner and tie it around my head? How about I take the trash can to the sink, fill it with water and stick my head in there until I drown? How about I forget about that stainless-steel mirror and just BREAK THE FUCKING WINDOW if I want some glass?"

I was wearing one of those backless hospital gowns at the time. I stood up and stripped it off. I twisted it up tightly and tied a noose in one end. "I could hang myself with THIS, too!" I told the idiot.

I shouldn't have done that, because I needed his pronouncement that I was "cured" before I could get out of that hell-hole. He scurried off like a cockroach when the kitchen light comes on at night, and he obviously did not believe that I was "cured." If I had that many ideas about how to kill myself, I had to still be crazy. Fucking quack.

That was an interesting time in my life. I don't care to repeat it, but it damn sure was interesting. You meet some REALLY crazy people in the nut-house.

And half of them are running the place.

Comments

When my business went to crap in the late 1990's, I considered checking out.

I even wrote a blanket Fax/E-mail and programmed my computer when to send it to my creditors and other potentially interested parties.

While I was busy sobering up and changing my mind (after hooking the dryer hose to the Surburban tail pipe one night and having it come apart), my computer surprised me and sent it (the Fax/e-mail) a day early and the police showed up at my door and drug me off to the loony bin.

Since I went willingly (hey it was a big mis-understanding), they let me walk in under my own power and once I got to the "screening area" they let me wander around including using the restroom. I just happened to wander out the back door and headed back home assuming they would forget about me.

Wrong...

The police kicked my front door in at 3:00 AM and jacked my nekkid ass into some bluejeans and drug me kicking and screaming back to the loony bin in Marietta, GA and good God did I get a lesson in what crazy was.

I'm fucking Einstein compaired to these miserable MoFuckers and I drag my lazy useless ass out of bed every day on St. Simons happily knowing that dealing with my Vodka habit and my ex-wifes and their attorneys and my wonderful girl Pat is much better than sitting in any of the dark places the court and the "system" can send you off to if you let them.

Thank God I now appreciate that My Mama and Pat still need me alive and kicking...and there's always more Jack or Smirnoff if I need it.

Enjoy your writing dude.

Posted by: Virgil on April 9, 2005 03:17 AM

Thanks for the link, spent half the afternoon reading her story. I'm stunned. Abject helplessness indeed.

Posted by: ann on April 9, 2005 12:22 PM

found that link in your referrals huh? hmmm

Posted by: dawn on April 9, 2005 01:56 PM

this girl is fucking amazing. I know her personally...this isn't even the whole story. BTW, she doesn't really elaborate, she's actually holding back. What's scary is she has photographic and journalistic proof of all of it, plus her family and a few video taped interviews of her on like Oprah and Sally and Geraldo totally prove it. Some fucked up shit went down there...its amazing she's alive dude.

Posted by: Amy on April 10, 2005 12:11 PM

Just poke around a bit on alt.support.autism for a bit, for more of the same. If there are any folks in the world who hate bullying wrong-headed shrinks and would like to see them impaled, it's auties!

Search, particularly, in the posts by Amanda Baggs, aka Sggab the Slug.

Posted by: Justthisguy on April 10, 2005 03:02 PM
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