Archive for October, 2012


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Mirrors me often, is cruel when it can be, and has just made freshly pressed out of something called ‘frankly, my dear, no one gives a bleep’.  It is hard, dear reader, to believe that there are some people who are not playing a cruel game.

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I’m reading Oscar Wilde’s ‘The Happy Prince and Other Tales’ and he doesn’t recognise, in this form of writing at least, that an ‘and’ should not start a sentence or follow a comma.  I have spent a lot of time trying to observe that law, when I have, but I like Oscar Wilde’s usage better.

I’ve been listening to Josh T Pearson, Last of the Country Gentlemen.  I first heard him sing ‘Sweetheart I Ain’t Your Christ’ on the Robert Elms Show, then later the same week on the Jools Holland Show.  Where it talks about trying to make him suck out some disease he can’t even begin to see, and teach him how to speak in the hope that it would break some curse, I thought a lot about Tommy Boyd and how I ‘related’ to him.  He could have written it for me but he didn’t, he wrote it about his own relationship.  It made me think so much about Tommy Boyd I even took down my page with his name as the title.

I think there are Christians who would be offended by the lyrics, as I am sometimes.  But it communicates pain and confusion so effectively I can’t be offended by it overall, when I listen.

Today’s Dinner and Matters of the Heart

I was thinking today about a couple of people we have on the ward.  One lady cannot speak intelligibly after an accident and/or damage/operation on her brain.  Another is said to be deaf.   For both of them I think this is the wrong place for them to be.  It is frustrating for them and all of us.  The lady who can’t speak has learned to speak a few words, strengthening my belief that rehabilitation of her speech is possible.  I am not aware that she is getting any support or therapy towards that end.  If my awareness is accurate it is obvious that, having not been a party to any decision on things at that level if any has been taken, I don’t know why.

The lady who can’t speak started ranting at me when she reached over me and put her sleeve in my dinner at the hatch. For all I know she might have been saying ‘sorry’, but all I knew was that she was shouting and wouldn’t stop, right next to me, with staff standing by and not intervening.  I told her to stop talking at me like that because she knew I couldn’t understand her.  I thought I heard one of the domestic staff say ‘bitch’, and I said ‘I’m not a bitch, I’m sick of abuse’, and staff standing by and doing nothing.  What are they doing, standing by and watching it unfold before deciding whether or not to stop it?  Luke said he didn’t think anyone would be calling me bitch, and he should know, in that situation, he was standing right next to the domestic that I thought had said it.  I’ve heard other things like that as well, so I’m not discounting my own understanding – angry at me and despising me for standing up for myself when they don’t stop the woman ranting at me.  Why?  I came away feeling and believing that Luke was just playing the role of the nice guy, even if he didn’t do anything to help.  They started giggling and laughing behind me, among themselves.  They rebuild themselves and help themselves relax while ignoring us.

I asked another patient if she watched ‘Doctors’ at 1.30pm weekdays on BBC1.  I told her that yesterday there were definitely 2 of the ‘staff’ characters recognisable from here and that they had done exactly the same thing with staff in London, and that they were blaming me when I had already told them from the beginning that this was happening.  For trying to act responsibly I have been told that it is evidence of ‘(my) mental illness’ and medicated into exhaustion, while having other people pull shocked disapproving faces at me and calling me bitch – or using the word against someone else and me mistaking it for being aimed at me.  Both are equally unacceptable.

Someone else was saying, before that, that she had been sent the same sort of food for weeks running, and I sympathised with her, saying they shouldn’t employ someone in a place like this who doesn’t know how to cater properly for different diets, because this is not a hotel.

The girl I said was being bullied in one of my last posts has become dependent on everyone rather than being the strong, forthright person she seemed to be when she first came in.  We all pipe sweet pipings in the end.

I moved rooms a few weeks ago.  My old one had a fan or something really loud right outside, and the cigarette break.  I’ve moved to the quiet side.  There is a man in one of the buildings who kept crying out ‘oh’, loudly and pathetically.  People kept trying to stop him.  One day there were two of them, one of them ended up crying out ‘help us’. I’ve had that on my mind ever since but for some reason I’ve only just got round to writing about it.  A woman in the ward told him to ‘shut up’, women from here were imitating him and ended up shouting ‘we love you’.  I shouted to him to shut up at least once.  When I was upset a man shouted at me to shut up.  This place is awful.

This trashing and hatred of Jimmy Savile.  He’s dead.  He was as much a victim of cover-up as anyone else in his situation, there at the BBC.  Look at the poor, scrawny thing!  He was a victim of cover-up and too weak to control himself under the accusations which never came to fruition.

That’s what I think.  Hypocritical Britain strikes again.  He was failed, in his lifetime. He and his victims were not the only victims.

Look at this NSPPC report for professionals for this year’s figures for child abuse.  They start with 1 in 4 and work downwards, for children up to 17 years old who have experienced sexual abuse from an adult or a peer.

I love children. Who doesn’t?  But I am a victim of harassment calling e a paedophile, which I have seen and heard close up, and that makes my attention towards children seem exaggerated.  Not to mention the fact that some people seem offended if you do NOT give their child, hitherto unknown to you, some sort of attention.

I would not choose to do something which I knew to be harmful to a child.  I am in my fifties and menopausal, without children.  All of this put together makes being around children incredibly difficult for me.  I hardly know what is normal and what is not, but I feel I am beginning to learn to relax around children and their nurturers.  But some people are still snipers, emotionally.

I was too afraid to write like this or speak like this when the Gary Glitter case happened.

I have been in abusive power situations/  Saying ‘no comment’ in a situation like this does not show you have something to hide or that you lack remorse.  It shows you do not trust the representation of authority you are being called on to answer.  Some of them play games with your head. You can be rendered incapable of showing remorse, other than just in words but sometimes that far also, by fear of the situation which thinks it has a right to demand it.  Some people think they are so clever that all they have to do is make a subliminal grab at you and you should capitulate and you are morally deficient if you don’t.  We all know too much about our rights these days to be happy with something like that, I think, and about abuses of power and arrest targets and everything.  People who are thinking about their rights, having been previously abused, will be locked off from subliminal pointing and mining.

That is what I think, it is also my experience.

There is a lady on the ward who has been getting quite upset.  Talking about staff getting to go home and buy things on dirty money, talking about slurring her character.  Last night the staff listened to her in silence, this morning one of them was talking back at her.  She was saying they were slurring her character and she said she was going to complain and that she had before and would do so again,  Jess kept saying ‘good’ and another patient standing with the nurse was saying to her ‘do you have one’ (character), and made another comment as well, and Jess sided with her saying ‘pinch of salt’ to her about what this other lady was saying.

I’ve been there.  It hurts, it’s frightening and it shouldn’t happen.  The lady was saying that she wanted a transfer because she was being bullied by staff and patients.  It certainly sounded that way this morning.  I’m not saying it because I am perfect, but because I am equally vulnerable in this situation.

This evening I started singing, quietly, ‘the king is in the all together’.  I’ve never realised its full meaning before.  At first it wasn’t intentional.

Real Or Imaginary?

I just thought, while having my almost 0% protein content lunch:  If they can tell me that hostels here are bad, why can’t (or won’t) they ‘believe’ me when I say what has been happening to me in the community – why do they maintain that what was happening to me there, and the way the council and the police dealt with it, weren’t bad, but a product of ‘my mental illness’?

Are things only bad if judged so out of the minds and mouths of these dubious professionals?  One of them even said to me that the police are a law to themselves.  It is difficult for me to know with any certainty if there is anything to choose between these two bodies of professionals with regard to that.

At my appeal the other day they were saying that I wrote ‘derogatory’ remarks about the staff.  Isn’t it hard not to?

Yesterday was really unsettled here and a nurse interrupted my time with another nurse to say they needed to be out there and seen.  The tv room was the point of conflagration and congregation.

All Over the Place

I’m all over the place today. and was yesterday as well.  Should I go to church, or contact the media, or make contact again with my uncle?  Last time I went to him he turned me away.  So has everyone else though, at different times.

Who is the least to blame for their hacking of my computer and telephone?  Who can I least condemn for that and justify the most?

Life on the ward is violent and angry.  It runs completely counter to my life choice.  I was on a section 3 until I finally moved all my stuff out of my temporary accommodation on the Friday, then my section was rescinded on the following Monday, so technically I could leave, but I now had no home.  After a period off my section but feeling really distressed by the violently broken nights, when I tried to discharge myself they didn’t seem to know, between them, what they were doing, but they put me back on a section 3.

This place, patients and staff alike, are hurting me. Being here is making me very unhappy and repressed.  I know this place is bad for me, but they are telling me I need to be here.  I know I don’t and that it isn’t good for me to be here.    It isn’t good for anyone.  The kind of relationships that exist in a place like this, doing what they do, can only be diseased.  I can’t even discharge myself at the moment into the ‘really bad’ hostels they say exist here.  At least if I could do that I would be taking responsibility for my own life.  It might be easier if housing seemed to be doing something, like offering me accommodation.  I can’t remember the date I was interviewed, but it is over a month ago, maybe 2.  Even if I am offered accommodation I assume that the lifting of my section 3 won’t automatically coincide with that.

I keep coming out of my room to see staff members immediately change the expressions on their faces, when they see me.  There is something wrong with this and I am frightened.

Hey I can write now.  Maybe I always could.

Convulsed

My medication has been increased from something I was comfortable with to an amount which makes my limbs go haywire and I have minor convulsions every night.  I have mentioned this to the staff and they said they might think about changing my medication.  I was on 10 mg of olanzapine and it has been increased to 15.  I am taking procyclidine with it but it is making no difference. I wake several times a night, both too hot and angry, my arms and legs flailing and rigidity in my back.  I think that is my fault, that it is happening because I am not handling myself properly and that I need to take myself into deep relaxation and acceptance of the medication to let it work properly when I flail and get the convulsive feelings.  That is when I am not thinking that this medication and everything else I am not being protected from in here are a very brutal way to access my emotions.

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