My Mental History.

I am going to try to go into my mental health history. And I think it deserves a thread of its own. I will put it here in separate posts for space, though.

But... starting January 13, 1988 I started seeing weird stuff on TV. I probably was just misinterpreting most of it, I know that. And some of the stuff was mundane. I know the previous week on NBC's "St. Elsewhere" they said in the promo for the show that aired on or around Jan. 13, "St. Elsewhere explodes". I thought nothing of it. But the episode was very weird that night. I guess. I won't go into detail now. But at one point people kept falling down. I thought it would be a good for dramatic effect at that point in the show. Because I was so riveted to it at that point. But did that happen in their Jan. 13, 1988 show? People fell down, France Nuyen at one point, and a couple of other characters? I don't know.

Anyways, the rest of the year was uneventful. Until July 6 of that year. The staff at a program I was going to started psychologically abusing me. But you know, the fact I thought I was part of some global conspiracy helped me, I was telling my doctor recently. I was in the right, and I was important and had value. I am still trying to figure out why the staff did it.

Then I started feeling backed into a corner, because I thought my house was bugged. No direct evidence that it was. But I suspected. In December of 1988, I was in the car with my mother at a local coffee shop we'd stop at to have a coffee and a bite to eat. I was telling her how my HS English composition teacher, who was apparently British or Australian, was telling us that the UK coin Tuppence is actually a corruption of Twopence, or two pennies in value. Then, and I admit it was just a coincidence, the "Elementary, Dear Data" episode of Star Trek TNG (airdate: 5 Dec, 1988) came on, where Captain Picard and Lt. Commander Data have this exchange in the holodeck:

"Captain?"
"Tuppence. Two pence. Supposed to be good luck. We may need some."

Now I went to a school (now closed), St. A, in Dearborn, MI. I had many classmates who witnessed her say the same thing. Tuppence. I think we were studying "The Hound of the Baskervilles" by Arthur Conan Doyle. It was the 1982-3 school year. Look it up.

But that seemed to show even my parents' car was no refuge for me from the bugs then. Then at one point in Summer of 1989, I was walking in front of the house just behind ours in our neighborhood. I was thinking something, I forget what. Something mundane. And then when I got back to my basement room, I turned on the radio, and the radio DJ seemed to say exactly what I thought, more or less. As I said, it was a coincidence. But you know, I thought at the time. If the government conspiracy wanted to set up a base near my house, they could never do it in my neighborhood. I would notice immediately if someone new moved in. As I said, it was on the street behind my house. I didn't know anyone there. There also was this weird dome-topped van parked in their driveway. I kept seeing the same mini van back then. I wondered if it wasn't the same people, the government in other words. As I said, I think it was just a type of automobile that people drove then.

Anyways, the night before March 15, 1989, I was in my basement room, thinking to myself. The next day was the Ides of March. But I thought to myself, when Julius Caesar was assassinated, they were still using the old Julian calendar. The switch over to the new Gregorian calendar Pope Gregory XIII instituted in 1582 would have made it a different date, not the next one. That's not important. But back then, I thought a personality in my brain was using my mouth without my knowledge. Everyone around denied that. But I was sure the "bugs" in my house were picking up what this personality was saying. So the night of March 15, 1989, I had several things going on in room at the same time to drown out the alleged bugs. The TV, the radio, and something else too I forget. There was no way the "bugs" could pick up on my personality then, I thought. But the next day on local radio, a DJ, Dick Purtan on the Dick Purtan Show, brought up that fact, the changeover to the Gregorian calendar and the Ides of March. On local WKQI radio. Does anyone know how to get a transcript of that show. Last I heard, they weren't free. That's all I know. As I said, it probably was coincidence. But this, and everything else up to that point, led to a downward spiral of desperation. My family could tell something was very wrong. Everyone could. Then July 8, 1989, my doctor pretended he was part of the "conspiracy". Remember I had no idea my parents had told him anything. I believed him. And that basically led to a suicide attempt July 16. I obviously didn't want to die. I actually did things like swallow a little shaving lotion and Iodine. And then I went right to our kitchen where my mother was and told her to call Poison Control immediately.

But my doctor obviously caused the suicide attempt. As I said, I thought I had a personality. And I tried to get it to tell everyone how my doctor was responsible, in places like restaurants, because I was too embarrassed to say anything myself. There was no personality, I now realize. So obviously people didn't hear anything. Anyways, a lot of good came from that all, believe it or not. When I went in patient the next day, July 17, my doctor put me on Elavil right away. And that was all I needed, to deal with the careless mistakes people made in my life.

Also, about the suicide attempt on July 16. I was 21 then. And as I said, the local police had been bothering me (though I am a good person) since at least age 14. I don't think that helped matters. What do you think? I'm talking to my doctor about all that now though. And everything else.

 

I now think, people thought growing up I was mentally deficient when I really had Cerebral Palsy. Or maybe they weren't sure. Let me explain. The funny way I walked, it was apparent as soon as I could walk. I remember clearly. But I also had these flights of fancy or emotion. I would run freely thru the house till I was a young adult. For example, when I was 13, I ran down to our basement, then I did a little tap dance. Now my family doctor said that flights of emotion could be a sign of mental deficiency. But only if they are uncontrollable, she said. I told my doctor that they were not of course. (And I think people noticed my flight of emotion BTW. My cousin even mentioned it when we over at her house for Christmas once. Well, actually I don't know if flights of emotion are the best word for it. When I was a kid, I would jump up and touch the tops of doorways before I entered a room. My cousin did that, joking that she did that too. Now did she know I did that?)

Yeah, but about the tap shoe thing in the 8th grade. As I said, I ran down to our basement, then I did a little dance. Then my friend in GS, JG, he said something weird the next day. He and the other kids were teasing me during recess. And he started tap dancing and said "Do a little soft shoe?" And then told me I was an idiot. I mean, it may have been a coincidence. (He and the other kids also said a few other things, that I could have sworn at the time related to my private thoughts and personal life. I found it hard to believe then. But it did happen.) I didn't tell my mother at the time about the "do a little soft shoe" comment. But I did say JG seemed to know things about me. She paused and she said, well you know. When I talk to his mother on the phone, I hear her voice fade. Like JG has picked up the extension or something. My therapist in 2011 told me, yes. And perhaps your mother was looking down the stairs at that moment, thought it was cute, your little dance, and told Mrs. G about.

And one time in the 7th grade I was thinking of this cucumber-like plant they use in Africa in voodoo ceremonies. Why I was thinking about it is not important. But I could have sworn. My best friend went to the teacher's desk at the front of the room and "He's thinking about cucumbers" That's what I heard, though it was very faint. And when he said it, he paused and had a look of total disgust on his face, I remember. The teacher, Mrs. M, then said "Stupid! Stupid!" Now I did hear that.

Another time, I think in the 7th grade, something weird happen. Judge for yourselves. I had these miniaturization fantasies back then. Wouldn't it be neat, I thought, to shrink someone down, and have them ride in one of those radio-controlled air planes. I was on the playground during recess, having this fantasy, about the air plane. And another one of my friends, KT, looked over in my direction, laughed and pointed and said, I'll bet he's thinking about radio control air planes again! Now, I did tell everyone the toys and games I used to want as kid. But I don't know if I told anyone about radio control air planes.

Then in HS the next year, people seemed to know things like the songs I was thinking at the moment. Maybe not. One boy did do something odd once. We were exchanging class. And we had to walk outside to do that. I was just about to enter the northern-most building. The largest one. And he walked past me, sang a song that I had just thought of in the previous class. Then like JG, he called me an idiot.

Yeah. And kids at my HS. They seemed to know things I did at home. Sometimes just the previous night. Almost like they were there. Anyways, I later found out at least part of what they knew was from the fact my mother was searching my room (I had a wonderful mother, as I tell people). But I found a large manila envelope of stuff from my room, in her room, around age 18.

Now I did see a psychiatrist at age 7. She told my parents I was perfectly normal. I didn't see a psychiatrist again until November of 1984, in HS. But my therapist in 2011 told me, she was perhaps running things, behind the scenes in my life. It was my junior year when I actually saw Dr. T though.

 

You know it was sad. I was taking that terrible Haldol (Haloperidol) in November of 1984. It was causing me terrible side effects and it certainly wasn't helping me. It doesn't help people with Schizotypal Personality Disorder at all. And if you have Cerebral Palsy, it's probably the last thing you should take. I think my psychiatrist at the time knew I had SPD. I just know he kept saying, well I don't think you have Schizophrenia. But that is all he said.

But the Haldol turned me into a virtual invalid. And my doctor said he never heard of such side effects. Perhaps you have Mononucleosis, people said back then. Finally I had the wherewithal to stop the Haldol on my own. My doctor never would have. I told him I stopped the next time I saw him. And he said, whatever. You know I still haven't been the same since that Haldol in 1984. The horrible side effect I'm talking about is akathisia. My mother told me she looked it up the next year. Doctors often tell patients they must endure it. Unless it affects their functioning severely. Like I said, my doctor just told me he never heard of it. But it was just before Christmas when my functioning returned as I stopped the Haldol. I think it was on or around the date that I saw that episode "Spectre of the Gun", Star Trek TOS, air date: October 25, 1968. Star Trek was in syndication on local WKBD at the time. I know because I went looking at Christmas lights around then, and made a note on my calendar. I think I stopped the Haldol the day after we looked at the lights that night actually. That sounds right.

 

I wanted to go into my mental health in general a little. Any psychologists/psychiatrists on these boards? But I found it hard to be in public Summer of 1983. Wildly nonsensical things bothered me. Because I thought people could read my thoughts and I had to control them. My therapist I saw up till 2022 said, well, it was because they represented a loss of control for you.

I enjoy show tunes, always have. But I was never able to enjoy this one, at least in HS after I started having problems:



"Down On Macconnachy Square". The woman who's selling a little bit of milk and cream. That part seemed so silly to me. And back in HS, especially the Junior year, the phrase "Ow, sow a cow" kept running thru my head. With all the O's pronounced like the "ow" in cow. I still call it the "ow, sow a cow" song. Also, I looked at the video recently. She looks like she's drunk, doesn't she? Then the crowd laughs hysterically when she tells them the cow will not take it back. Whatever.

You know, they were doing a remake of "Brigadoon" for band class in my Junior year in HS. Oh, God. I dreaded it. I certainly couldn't go and see it. Then one day, our music teacher said I have a special video for you all to watch. "Down On Macconnachy Square" from the movie. The one above. Why? We all asked. Just sit and watch it and then we'll start class. As I said, I dreaded the song. Then HD coughed. "Good morning, H." the band teacher joked. Then JD coughed. "Good morning, J" the band teacher quipped. Then I had anxiety the personality in my brain would affect my band teacher. And she started coughing. But you know, I never hated the song as much after that. It did if nothing else desensitize me to it. I don't think I told anyone I dreaded it. Maybe they could just tell my reaction, whenever anyone brought the song up.

Then there was that song "Mairzy Doats". I dreaded it too. And everyone had to sing it that year too it seemed. Again the band teacher said, one of the classmates will sing for you now. I could have sworn I kept hearing it on TV too. I know they sang it on the TV series "227" in their 1984-5 season. If you'll remember, Marla Gibbs sang it for her husband played by Hal Williams to make him feel better. He had a cold or something. But you know, my therapist till 2022 said, in a situation like that, just read the rest of the song: "If the words sound queer and funny to your ear, a little bit jumbled and jivey, Sing 'Mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy'". He was right. A rational approach was all I needed back then. If I knew that's what the lyrics really meant, they wouldn't have bothered me so much.

There was also this boy in HS who had his leg amputated. I was afraid my personality would make fun of him. And I think he did walk up behind me in the hallway once. Another kid, DA, gave him a dirty look when he did. I never told anyone my anxiety about him you know. But I couldn't get words out of my head with him either. I saw these vignettes for a horror film once. And one of them was called "Bobby". Whenever I thought of him, I couldn't get the words "Bobby boo" out of my head. Also, I thought of the name Harry when I thought of him. I just know I couldn't get the image of his legs out of my mind then. You know I used to find hair on a man's legs unattractive sometimes then.

Also, around that time, as I told my doctor, the phrase "Ding dong dally" kept running thru my head. I forget the details. But again, it bothered me.

 

But you know on my being rational. All I really needed to do was thinking things thru in the Summer of 1989. I tried explaining that to the "bugs". I said, if you'll just let me think things thru. Because I thought the police would come to my door if I even thought about suicide. Just let me thinks things thru, I told them, and everything will be all right. I was in the basement of our house. Where I thought the bugs were. I wasn't sure where the "bugs" were or when in the government had time to put them in my house. Maybe not the basement, I thought at first. But by Spring/Summer of 1989, I was sure they were in the basement. Then I looked over, and saw my mother's old Hoover vacuum cleaner. Listen, I told them, I will watch the local news at a specific time. Have the news anchor mention Hoover vacuum cleaners. And I'll know I won't get arrested, for just even thinking about suicide. I just need to think it thru. I watched that news. And nothing happened, not surprisingly. I could have sworn the woman news anchor glanced to the side sarcastically as the program ended. But I'm sure she didn't.

Actually I was able to think things thru. But I still wanted to die. Because people in my life told that I would be sent to Northville Psychiatric Hospital in Northville, MI some day. No reason, they said. Perhaps they didn't like me, I thought. And I would experience horrible unending akathisia that would last for the rest of my natural life. People even joked about that from time to time. Or maybe they were being sarcastic, who knows. So I swallowed a bunch of silly things like after shave lotion and liquid Iodine. I ran right away to the kitchen and told my mother to call poison control. My doctor said you can have him admitted the next day. And he put me on Elavil, which helped a lot, as I've said. Then until I last saw that doctor in 1992, he was pretending that he was working for the government, for whatever reason. (He's buried in Guatemala now, BTW.)

But you know, everything in my life always tends to work out for the better.

 

You know, talking again only about my psychological issues. My problem might be I am just too rational. Lack of emotional involvement. I like being that way, and I consider it a strength. But is can cause problems for me, especially socially. Like in this list of quotes I have shared with some of my doctors.

Yeah, I can relate to all of these quotes. Everyone of them has happened to me at one time or another:


"Keiko has made a decision designed to increase her happiness. She has cancelled the wedding."
"Without even a word? Of all the childish, selfish, irresponsible..."
"Next time, maybe I should break the 'good' news."
-Data's Day,
Stardate: 44390.1,
Original Airdate: 7 Jan, 1991.

"Didn't I just say that?"
"Yes, sir, but not quite as perspicuously."

-Samaritan Snare,
Stardate: 42779.1,
Original Airdate: 15 May, 1989.


"Darling, you remain as aesthetically pleasing as the first day we met. I believe I am the most fortunate sentient in this sector of the galaxy!"

-In Theory,
Stardate: 44932.3,
Original Airdate: 3 Jun, 1991.

"Commander Riker will assume we have made this analysis, and knowing that we know his methods, he will alter them. But, knowing that we know that he knows that we know, he might choose to return to his usual pattern."

-Peak Performance,
Stardate: 42923.4,
Original Airdate: 10 Jul, 1989.

"What is wrong with you tonight?"
"My most recent self-diagnostic revealed no malfunctions. Perhaps something is wrong with you!"

-In Theory,
Stardate: 44932.3,
Original Airdate: 3 Jun, 1991.

 

I think I'll separate this last one into two posts. But, I could swear people heard me talk when I didn't. Maybe even like at age 9. Now I said maybe. They usually denied it. But I couldn't go out in public starting in the Summer of 1983. I became free again the Summer of 1989, as I've said. Labor Day weekend 1983 I think was the last time I even tried to go out. That's the first Monday in September in the USA. My uncle invited my cousin and I up to his cabin on Mackinac Island, MI. The whole trip was weird.

I was trying ways to thwart that personality in my brain. I'd hum, I'd talk, I'd do other stuff. That trip, I held my lips tightly shut the whole trip up. My teeth were numb by the time we arrived there. It still didn't do any good, it seemed. The personality always seemed to prevail. Even when it couldn't have possibly. After a while, it seemed long distances didn't stop it. Like several hundred feet. He must've been yelling at that point, I thought. Though I never heard him. I did have Laryngitis in my Junior year once. Like I had been yelling, I thought. Maybe it was just a virus.

Anyways, the personality still got thru on the trip. I kept having anxiety it would say things that weren't true. At one point, I thought that it would tell my uncle that I was going to hurt their Pomeranian, "Princess", who was in a cage in the back seat with me. I obviously wasn't. But then my uncle looked over his shoulder, and eyed me and the dog, darting his eyes back and forth, with great suspicion. What was that all about? I had fears by then that the personality would say wildly nonsensical things. I thought it would say my cousin couldn't read. He was 18 by then. We were in my uncle's cottage. And my uncle handed my cousin a newspaper. My cousin said, but I can't read. Don't you remember. They both laughed. My uncle said, you can just "look at the pictures" then. I never said that, I never heard myself heard that. My cousin is still alive. Did he hear me say that? But people just hearing things I didn't want the personality to say made me very angry. I think it would you. I wanted to take a bike ride around the island. It was late in the evening, almost dark. I thought I could slip out when my uncle wasn't looking. He was talking to us kids in front of his house. Now is my chance I thought. Unless the personality says something, IOW tells my uncle I am up to something. Then my uncle looked in my direction like he heard me say something. What are you doing, he asked me. I was very angry at that point. I couldn't contain it. Leave me alone, I basically said. And I rode the bike anyways. I was back before dark. My mother said my uncle later told her he didn't know what to do. He wasn't the disciplinarian in the family. So he had to let me go, he told her. Though he was concerned for my safety.

Then we got to the hamburger shop. And all the people there stopped eating and staring at me angrily. One man looked outraged for some reason. Perhaps they thought I was just different. I wasn't sure even back then.

Then on the way home, I was thinking of my uncle's Scottish friend on the island. She ran a store there. He seemed very close to her. Did he feel closer to her than he did to the family. Well, obviously not, was the answer. I just needed to think it thru. But then my uncle started coughing loudly and abruptly. Not like he had a cold, but like he was angry and wanted me to stop even thinking that. Did he hear me say something? Actually, I was on our back porch sleeping in the Summer of 1983. I kept making promises to God as kid. If he helped me in this situation, I say an Our Father or Hail Mary every night for the rest of my life. Bad idea to promise that. But in HS, I still felt I had to. I was saying my prayers. 5 Our Fathers, 5 Hail Mary's, 1 Glory Be and 2 Confiteors, by then. Then I thought. Do I have to say the rest of my prayers? I said the requisite Catholic prayers already. As I thought this, I remember, the intensity of my emotions rose. And the lady next door, who was kind of mean to begin with, coughed angrily and at the top of her lungs. She had the window to her bedroom open. But it was still a ways away, I remember. She coughed very loudly. So I'm not supposed to think intensely emotional thoughts in public? I thought. Is that what people want? I was never sure about that.

 

More on people hearing me say things I didn't. I thought my mother had a hand in all of this. She was micromanaging my life, I thought. Even she would joke about that.

When I was about seven, I couldn't sleep. And my mother tried self-hypnosis on me. It didn't work. But is that what I was supposed to remember? When they hypnotized people on stage, they tell them you won't remember I hypnotized you when you wake up. That must be it, I thought. And then she'd come to my room in the wee hours of the morning to debrief me. Of what happened that day. Because she knew everything that was going in my life it seemed. And the kids knew stuff about what I did at home, stuff they couldn't possibly have known. Almost like there were in the house, but invisible. Maybe there was a secret club I thought. The neighborhood kids eventually told me they were asked to play with me. All of them. Like they met in private, or something. With my mother. Anyways. I put a tape recorder with a timer under my bed in my Sophomore year, and set it for late night. It only picked up a scratching noise. But my mother was in control.

By the Summer of 1984, I thought if my mother only knew, knew that the personality in my brain had gone rogue, all would be well. (BTW, Summer of 1984 was a nice Summer, I recall. I am sometimes happiest just being alone and inside, by myself.) The problem going rogue was a problem sometimes. One time in my Sophomore year, I was in band class. A girl's father had just died. I had anxiety the personality would say something mean to her. And something was wrong. The boys, one kid in particular, AM, kept looking over their shoulders at me. Like they were very concerned and something was very wrong. And they were concerned for the girl's feelings only, of course. I thought normally they wouldn't say something if they heard the personality. I thought, if I could only get home, the personality would be reprogrammed and receive new instructions. I got home, and the next day in band class, everything was fine. Though the girl did seem annoyed at one point, I remember. Maybe it was nothing.

I couldn't find nerve to tell my mother about the personality going rogue. But the next year, the Junior year, I was very unfree. And the problem seemed particularly active. Just that one year. It never seemed more active before or since. I thought people heard it yelling nonstop at that point. My principal told my mother he was concerned I was "isolating" myself too much. I thought isolating was code for the personality. "I am 'isolating' myself very loudly indeed" I quipped to myself at the time. My mother told me in the car the principal thought I needed counseling. And when I told her everything, she had nothing to do with the personality. Then I started seeing Dr. T in November of 1984, as I've said. I said, well a mouth saying things behind your back. You get that all the time, don't you? He said, no. Certainly not. I've never heard of that before in my life. Then he started getting insulting and condescending. Whenever he referred to the personality, he called it the "vocalizations". His face lit up with a devious smile, each time he said that, I recall.

Then I eventually concluded, I must have something wrong with my brain. I want a CAT scan, I told Dr. T. He seemed sympathetic. Okay, I'll try to get you one, he told me. But you have no reason to. Finally I said, is there anyone who can help me without giving me a scan. He said, well a neuropsychologist works without medical equipment. He gave me the name Dr. N. A very expensive doctor, who worked out of the very expensive town of Birmingham, MI and didn't accept insurance. The neurological questionnaire alone cost thousands of dollars, my mother told me. She said, she was glad to pay it. But still. (The last thing Dr. T said was I can see Dr. N from now on.) You know, a very weird thing happened with Dr. N once. I was in the office with him. And I had anxiety that the personality would say something. Just a burst of anxiety. It was a false alarm, I assumed. Then Dr. N looked at me with horror and shock and said Oh my God! I was surprised. What did you hear me say? I asked him. He never told me.

 

I also noticed after the Haldol, my emotional reaction to things seemed changed. It still is. It's weird. And it's hard to explain. A person with a degree in psychology would know what I am talking about.

Like when I complete a task. I don't fully feel I've completed it. IOW, the emotional reaction you get when you complete a task. It's no problem and it never affected my functioning. But it is kind of weird. And this has never been the same since 1984. That Haldol did something to my brain.

And this is weird. When I first heard the song "Dancin’" by Olivia Newton-John from the movie "Xanadu" in the Summer of 1983. When she sings "Forget about the blues tonight, sweet thing". "Tonight". Her voice goes suddenly, sharply up. Here, listen to it: I used to think that was kind of neat. But more than that, I could perceive it sounded different, the way she sang it. I don't perceive that anymore. It just sounds kind of monotone now. I didn't think that when I first heard it. I don't know if that makes any sense.

 

Also, you know for a couple of months now, my Olanzapine. It is at 2.5 mg. And my thinking seems much clearer at that lower dose. I'm serious I don't know if that makes any sense.

 

Also, I was going to talk briefly about something interesting I have found to deal with a problem. Specifically I have problems budgeting money. I tell myself when I go into a store that I will only buy 3 items. Then when I am there, I realize I need more. I really do. But I think, should I wait to buy it. I mean, I could just wait till I get to another store or the next day even.

But this is what I do. And I know this sounds a little strange. I can only change my mind about buying 3 items if I leave the store. I make up my mind before I enter the building. And to change it, I must leave. Simply walk out the door, and then come back in of course. And it makes a big difference sometimes. It makes me careful reconsider what I am doing.

I was telling this lady who used to work for me. It seems very simple. But it makes a big difference. Because it creates a symbolic barrier. Time too. I think I sometimes don't realize that all I need are a couple of seconds to think something thru, to make the best decision.

Yeah, I have been coming up ideas like this all my life to deal with my problems. And they always seem to work for me.

 

As I said, on July 8, 1989, my psychiatrist pretended he was part of the conspiracy. He did this until he dropped us in 1992. Starting then, he was making wild bizarre claims. My hands used to get dry and chapped in the winter. Then the night of February 8, 1992, the dryness moved up the lower part of my hands to my fingers, making them partly immovable. I could help the situation by wetting them. Or using ordinary Vaseline intensive care lotion, I eventually learned, would do the trick. I also found loose-fitting plastic gloves would hold in the moisture, and keep them moving. I was under the care of a dermatologist. Dr. C in a nearby city. He said he thought it was due to my dermatitis, whatever that means. But by Summer, my hands were frozen shut from the dryness. Vaseline intensive care would still help, though. Then people in my life, including my Dr. B, my psychiatrist, starting making bizarre claims. They said I was hurting myself. The loose-fitting plastic gloves may some day lead to "infection and death" (direct quote). I saved this from a paper I found in my parents' room. It is written in my father's handwriting:

HISTORY OF MENTAL ILLNESS
James had been mentally ill for almost 10 years, since he was 15 years old. He was diagnosed as having paranoid schizophrenia. All these years he has been in the care of a psychiatrist. He was in-patient twice and spent a long time in partial hospitalization.

WEARS PLASTIC GLOVES
The last several months James has been wearing plastic gloves. He wears them continuously, all day and all night. He wears plastic gloves when he is eating and he wears them when he is sleeping. At times he wears two pairs of gloves. He puts canvas gloves over the plastic ones. He removes them briefly to wash or wet his hands. The continued wearing of the plastic gloves causes skin lesions, fungal infection, and deterioration of the skin. The bottom of his hands were turning blue.

DOCTOR RECOMMENDATION
The psychiatrist recommended in-patient care and medication. James refuses all treatment and medication.

{"2 of 2"}

DOCTOR WARNING
The doctor warned us that the sores on his hands could become infected. The infection could travel to his brain and heart and be fatal. Even gangrene could set in.

FAMILY FEARS
We fear without treatment and medication he will seriously harm himself.

That's the note. I saved it. Actually, I wrote it all down. I still have it saved as a text document on my PC. As I said, Dr. T thought I had Schizotypal Personality Disorder. The paranoid schizophrenia thing was a sick joke, I knew even at the time. My hands never turned blue either, BTW. I didn't refuse all treatment either. I was at a partial psychiatric program in the same city as the dermatologist. Since May of 1992, I think. They kept trying to force me on neuroleptics. I kept refusing. Then the claims became bizarre, like in the above note. Then around my birthday at the end of June, the police arrived at my house to take me to the private hospital my present psychiatrist worked at. The police took me to the wrong hospital. Then they became lost and eventually turned to me and asked me for directions. Finally I arrived at the hospital where my mother was waiting. And I simply walked away. The police didn't stop me. They just looked on in disbelief. Then two months later, in early August. I still remember, around August 10, 1992, I was seeing my present psychiatrist. I was seeing him. Doesn't that sound compliant. I was in his office at his hospital. And he was acting silly. Then he said, okay, you won't go willingly, I'll force you again. I stormed out of his office. Two orderlies were waiting outside the door. They took me upstairs. Then, like I told my therapist until 2022, in a dramatic scene, like from a movie, they tore the plastic gloves off my hand. Because they were going to lead to infection and death.

As I said, I had to keep my hands moist so they'd move. They were briefly getting a little better around that time. But that was just coincidence I think. But I used a small shampoo bottle from my room to wet them with water, to keep them moving. Finally the receptionist and an orderly came to my room. No one else in the hospital has a water bottle. Why should you? She said. I went to the front desk. I said, you don't understand. Without the water, my hands are immovable. They looked around in disbelief. I am seeing a dermatologist in a nearby city. Doesn't my psychiatrist know? They still claimed not to know what I was talking about. Then I said, you know, if you could just give me some hand lotion. They looked at each other. Should we? Oh, what the heck. And they gave me a hospital sample of hand lotion. Like I said, my hands would have been frozen shut without that. The rest of hospital stay was uneventful. And I am not saying it was a bad place. A lady friend told me a couple of years ago though, I stayed a month. And that is usually long for your condition. I had to go to court for the commitment procedure. The judge and my court appointed attorney were acting silly too. It was an open court. I wonder what onlookers thought.

And I recently contacted the ombudsman for estates in my county. I told him doctors in my life warned me my cousin is my legal guardian and is misusing his power. The judge, Mr. M, responded, saying he had no idea what I was talking about. I contacted him numerous times and each time he responds with surprise that I would even think such a thing, that I have a secret legal guardian. I think he is acting silly too. He calls my cousin my "brother". I tell people that is a sick joke, but they tell me I misunderstood.

I am trying other legal action now. But no one has gotten back to me yet. And that is where things stand now.

 

I might as well add this while I remember. Wildly nonsensical things didn't bother me too much as a kid. Though I did say them, which may have been significant. I used to tell the neighborhood kids "all you have to do is possum pickey pooh". I later regretted it for some reason. Also we had a kind of a social club, us boys in the neighborhood. My friend made up an emblem for it. He inserted a popsicle stick in clay and let it set. He called it the "stick of the club" I seem to recall. I later told him it was kind of silly. And embarrassing, when he showed it to my mother. I also was mortified years later by all that stuff, especially when I became an adult. Possum pickey pooh and stick of the club. But now looking back, there was nothing wrong with those things. I know, I had an uncle (no relation to me). He was institutionalized at age 4 and then released at age 18. That must be an interesting story. Because that was 1941, when people in my country were being put in institutions in record numbers. His best friend from the institution, who was at his wedding and who he wrote letters to, was named Freddy. A mentally deficient man. My uncle was reportedly borderline mentally deficient. He could pass for normal, and most people seemed to accept as that. His main problem seemed to be with some math skills. But he seemed above normal, in other areas. He abused his adopted son. And he had a strange problem. He didn't like silly words. Once when went to 7-11, he had me (standing next to him at the time) order the Slurpees for him. Because he was too embarrassed to say the word Slurpee in public. But I thought even at the time. Using the word Slurpee in public is not embarrassing. Especially not in the store that sells them. What is embarrassing is having your nephew who is standing next to you order them for you. I used to be bothered by embarrassing words. But why? There's nothing wrong with them. And they do no harm.

 

You know, that program I was psychologically abused starting July 6, 1988. It lasted over a year. Actually, I started this program after I was released from the hospital after my suicide attempt in the Summer of 1989. And they were still doing it. But they stopped. They said, okay, we'll stop hurting you. But only because we know you'll be hurt in Northville Psychiatric Hospital. They said that. But. I think religion had something to do with it all. It could have. All the women who worked there were very religious. They let us know. The only one who wasn't, a social worker K, left as the psychological abuse began. Possibly because she wanted no part in it. But I told her. I'm still a Catholic. I even gave Dr. B a note saying I was a "semi-practicing Catholic". My mother looked at it and said, really? Your semi-practicing now. I told K, tell the people in group therapy, I'm still a theist and a Christian. She said, I won't tell them. You have to. But I'll bring the subject up. Then when she did, she kept saying "Amen!" over and over again, when people talked about religion. K was very religious? I never knew that. She was the one who wore it least on her sleeve. And, as I said, she was leaving.

Yeah, part of the torment. Well, actually all of it. Surrounded them telling me they thought I was going to hell. Like I told my doctor, about half the patients eventually told me. But really, we're atheists. But there was a whole bunch of stuff on TV and songs that surrounded that. I may get into it a little some day. And once I was watching local news anchors Mort Crimm and Carmen Harlan. I was in my basement room. And I wasn't paying too much attention. But I thought, if Carmen Harlan wants to tell me she wants me to go to hell, she should abruptly end her sentence now. And she did. I looked up at the TV then. Mort Crimm was annoyed. He said, Carmen. You know you "really didn't put a period on that sentence". Carmen looked up innocently and said "But she was fired?" Mort Crimm then went "ahem!" I think she was talking about a woman who lost her job. I'm sure Ms. Harlan would never have really done that. But did that really happen that way? It was probably in early or mid 1989, I think.

 

As I said, starting January 13, 1988, it seemed the whole world, with the US in the lead, was involved in conspiracy. I wouldn't call it evil per se. Actually, it kind of was. But it was well-intentioned. It was far rightwing. And it wanted people to give up their religious beliefs. Why it wanted all that is kind of complicated. I don't know if I'll ever get into it.

But I was talking to therapist recently about Star Trek TNG. As I said, starting in Fall of 1989, just about all of them seemed to relate to me. I don't believe that anymore. But when I look at those old episodes, I still see why I thought that. By January of 1990, the last Star Trek TNG episode that was significant that way aired. And that was pretty much the end of that. Actually, in December of 1989, I found out my mother was apparently part of the conspiracy. But in a benevolent way. That led me to believe there always was a conspiracy in my life. And to just not worry so much about it anymore. I recently found out my mother was actually told by my psychiatrist to lead me to believe that. This was just before Christmas, 1989. Maybe a week or two. As I've told my doctors, my relatives were acting kind of silly that Christmas Eve, at my house. But by then, I was learning to ignore things like that. And it did lead to an era of relative peace and stability in my life. The early 90's. I was recently telling my doctor, that on ST: TNG, Who Watches the Watchers, Original Airdate: 16 Oct, 1989, seemed to be an episode that dealt with how they were trying to get some people to give up religion. The episode does deal with how for the proto-Vulcan race, the Mintakans, God was no more than an old superstition. Now, that was the theme of that episode. Which was odd at the time. Science fiction was not so openly skeptical about religion back then. As I told this same doctor, as to why I believed there was an international conspiracy, and my doctor and parents were all a part of it, even though that is ridiculous, can best be summed up in this conversation in the show between Riker and Nuria:

"All this talk of the Overseer, it's old superstitions."
"I disagree. All the evidence indicates that the Overseer exists."

The evidence clearly showed there was a worldwide conspiracy and my doctor was involved. We all know there's no such thing as Leprechauns. But if you look in your backyard and see a whole bunch of them dancing around, you'd tell yourself, "Well, there must be such a thing a Leprechaun. I'll accept it as fact for now and then investigate further."

 

BTW, I don't know what role emotions play in rational judgement. I've always had good judgement I know. Although, as I've told my doctors, I do have a low tolerance for pain. How I would deal with it in some situations I don't know. Because when I deal with situations like that, I sometimes find I am a stronger person than I thought.

In Shakespeare's "Antony and Cleopatra", Act II, Scene 2, Maecenas and Enobarbus have an interesting discussion. Mark Anthony has to give up Cleopatra. Not only for his own good, but for the good of the Empire. But Enobarbus explains he still probably will not:

"Now Antony must leave her utterly."

"Never. He will not.
Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale
Her infinite variety. Other women cloy
The appetites they feed, but she makes hungry
Where most she satisfies. For vilest things
Become themselves in her, that the holy priests
Bless her when she is riggish."

Of course emotions make us who we are. And they say things like human ethics are based on our emotions. Even if they are still rationally based, some scientists say.

 

As I tell people, I don't have the best social skills. But I'm beginning to realize that most of my life, it was never I who was at fault. People were taking advantage of that fact to make it seem like I was doing something wrong when I wasn't. I took an English Composition class at a local college in Spring of 1988. And we were told to write an essay the night before. Mine simply said, God helps those who help themselves. Yes, by then I was getting very skeptical of religion, and frankly prayer too by then. But I said, sometimes you pray. But it's not God's help you're seeking. You just need a little push along. Maybe at that point you're just pushing yourself along. I don't know. When I was done reading the essay in my group, this middle-aged Southerner almost screamed. I still honestly don't know why. At home, I read that essay over and over again. There was nothing offensive in it. There was nothing even indelicate in it. The only thing, was perhaps poor attempt at irony I made. Not a joke, just irony. I quipped about the televangelist scandals that were going on at the time. Then I thought to myself. Perhaps she's a conservative Southerner, and therefore the one person in the country who's on the side of the televangelists.

I know recently I was posting something I thought was perfectly innocent on a message board. Then someone said, you know I take issue with what you posted. It borders on violating our hate speech rules on these boards. I still don't know what he meant. He said it bordered on that. Then I started private messenging him. I said, you know what I posted in my country, people tell me is such a beautiful sentiment. He told me, well, in your country it's called a beautiful sentiment. In my country, we call that hate speech. I still couldn't figure out what he meant. He said, well, those three ideas in that one sentence. You're putting them all together somehow. I said, well, not really. I did separate them with commas. He said, oh, I see. So in your country, commas make all the difference between ordinary speech and hate speech? I still don't know he meant. I haven't looked at those private messages for a while. I think I might copy them and share them with my doctor.

You know, I really don't know when people are joking or not sometimes. Because, and this is not a joke, I wonder. In my country, the USA, they had this episode of Bugs Bunny. It's rabbit season, it's duck season, Bugs and Daffy kept arguing. Okay, Daffy Duck finally said. I see our problem here. We're having pronoun trouble. Comma trouble? Maybe he was referring to that cartoon. Maybe they get it there too.

And a beautiful sentiment is also hate speech? This is not a joke. I wonder if he was referring to the 1993 movie "Coneheads". When Beldar Conehead gets home to Remulak, Highmaster Mintot and he have this conversation:

"Beldar, come close. What have you done to your face portal?"
"Huh?"
"Your trains!"
"Excellency, there is good reason!"
"Beldar lived among the bluntheads so long, he had to adapt. He altered his trains. It's known as bonding."
"I don't care. Here it is known as treason!"

Dental bonding is treason on Remulak? A beautiful sentiment in the US is hate speech in his country? Was that the joke? I'm not joking here. I'm serious.

 

I don't know though. I still try to use humor and irony when I can. I've heard more than one person on the internet say they were changing their political views to make me angry. Or sometimes just, do my political views make you angry? And I always tell them the same thing. Changing your political views will never make me angry. It's people giving me free money that really makes me angry.

I don't know though if that's humor or irony.

 

Also, you know I think people with my problem really don't understand sometimes when people say something that seems ridiculous, unreasonable even, it is for their own good. This is especially true for children. Now as a child I never had behavioral issues. So I usually complied with every order anyways.

Like when I was a child still. My friend's mother had visitor who would stop by from time to time. I don't think she was well. I don't know the details still. But I think she was getting ready to shoot me at one point. That's not important.

But one time, I came home. And my mother said, pack your bags, we have to leave immediately. Then after I heard her talk for a while, I said what you're saying is ridiculous. And she calmed down and never brought up the subject again. I think it had to do with that lady.

But you know now that I am older, people can make me a full participant in any discussion. And yet there is still so much secrecy in my life. Long after I found about it all in 2011, long after I told people I know people are using against me, and long after I told people I am exploring legal options. I am not trying to get anyone in trouble, I assure people. I am getting others involved, and letting them handle it. And I tell the people I got involved, I trust you fully to do the right thing. And yet the secrecy in my life still remains.

I think, though no one has told me this directly, they have hinted that probably I should just relax now and wait. So I guess that is what I will do.

 

Also, with my problem, the problem is that I give too much information. And with that, I think people just misunderstand sometimes.

Like, just for example, I might say. There's a lot of crime in my state, and there was a fire in my neighborhood. There's a lot of crime in Ohio, and there was a fire in my neighborhood. I say that maybe only because I am thinking about it, or because it affected me.

But then people will say, So you caused it? You're the one responsible for that fire? You had a hand in that fire, didn't you?

That's not what I meant at all. But you know, I am also beginning to realize, that is more other people's fault. To simply say there was a fire in your neighborhood is not to say you caused it. When people say that to me, they're being obnoxious. Usually on purpose.