HEROIN IS A DRUG TO MAKE THE WORLD GO AWAY

THIS IS A BLOG ABOUT A LIFE WITHOUT HEROIN



Showing posts with label speed. Show all posts
Showing posts with label speed. Show all posts

Monday, 3 March 2014

84 Hours Awake ~ and Scarcely Fatigued!

LAST WEEK I got "insomnia" so bad that I stayed awake constantly between Monday evening and Friday morning ~ that's about 84 consecutive hours! And I was barely even tired! And noI had not been taking speed (I wouldn't even know where to get speed.) Binky said that I was "manic" during this time, but I felt normal. A bit elevated, maybe. But I thought I felt pretty normal. I spent most of the time pottering about and scribbling shorthand into a notebook. 

Everybody wonders why on earth I would want to master the dying or almost dead art of shorthand and the answers are these: 1. because it's very handy to be able to write quickly and 2. I love the idea of nobody except retired American secretary types being able to read my scribblings. 

Apart from the fascination I've always had with writing, secret codes etc, I gravitated to shorthand back in my late teens because I was interested in a career in journalism and back then all journalists were expected to know shorthand. Then, in the late 1990s I saw a job offered in one of the music magazines for a "techno correspondent" and I thought "there's no way I'm going to be able to use a dictaphone at a rave, so I'd better perfect that half-arsed shorthand I picked up a few years ago". And that's why I learned shorthand. 

I never perfected the method, however and that's why, the other day when I was poking through boxes of stuff still unpacked from when I moved in, I found a sheaf of print outs of a 1929 shorthand manual I found myself filling notebooks with pages of scibbles all over again.

The style I write in is the American Gregg's shorthand. I happened to chance upon that method because my Gran was a school secretary and that's the system they taught her back in the day. It's far faster than the British Teeline method which is still taught to trainee journalists over here; and much easier to grasp than Pitman's. Pitman's is the traditional British shorthand and it's extremely fast but requires a pencil and lined paper. When I've had cause to write shorthand I have never ever had a pencil to hand and quite often had to resort to scrap paper pillaged from a bin, so I think I was right in choosing Gregg's shorthand over Pitman's.

Anyway I think I'm sleeping normally now. 

But my shorthand is really good!

"Donk Mix 2014" (Otherwise as Bounce or Scouse House.)
I love this type of music...


Illustrated: samples of German (Stolze-Schrey), Dutch (Groote)  and American (Gregg) stenography 

Monday, 19 November 2012

The Help That I Need... And Do I Really Need It ... (And What Is It Anyhow?)...?


AT THE WEEKEND, after I'd got a bit over-exuberant and what she likes to call "really manic" but I would categorize as "a bit hypomanic" (no way was I "really manic" in doctorly terms; I was just a bit elevated in mood; a little hyper) my friend Binky told me I really need more help from the mental health services than I'm currently getting. It's true the first thing she did on my arrival was to insist on laundering my clothes, which I thought were clean but she definitely didn't. Then I had a shower in her heated bathroom, which meant that I spent longer than a couple of seconds in there. And on coming out and changing into grey jogging bottoms and a fuschia pink teeshirt that she insisted was red but it wasn't ~ it was most definitely pink ~ I have to admit, I felt a whole lot cleaner. That is, cleaner as in less dirty. Not altogether clean. I never am and never feel "clean". But maybe that's my inner drug-addict being honest, hey.

One of the Support Workers who works at the Supported Housing where Binks lives listened as I told the story of how I ever came to the attention of the mental health system at all. That was to do with a drought in the UK's heroin supply and a sudden attack of mixed mania and psychosis coinciding with the "first day of the rest of my life"... that is, my first day clean of the terrible weak and adulterated heroin that was going around in those days. And how I never really recovered over the following weeks. Because I was keeping a diary with a four-point mood-scale going upwards and down and was scoring +1.5 and -1.5 on the same day. +1.5 means a very noticably elevated mood and hyperkinesis similar to the effects of speed. -1.5 is a very sour, depressive mood. +2 on this scale means full-blown mania, +3 is psychotic mania, +4 is a quasi-delirious state with disorientation and confusion ~ as bad as mania gets. The very maximum on each end would be a plus or minus five.

In the first flush of psychotic mood disorder I went up to about +3.5 and down below -4. I remember the aerial falling off the top of my TV and it staying that way, with barely any picture, for two days because the television was merely an object upon which to fix as I stared into space. After about six weeks of rolling moods I suddenly went sky high and this is where I hit a +4.99, about as high as you can go.

But these days I'm still scoring plus and minus 1.5s. I was +1.5 on Saturday afternoon. My self and my house are getting ever further into disarray. [I never stay high; it's the change of direction that throws me every time. I never know where I am, where I'm going.] Binky somehow knows that my living space is in dire need of clearing and cleaning, even though she's never set eye on it. She needs a knee replacement and so rarely walks further than the nearest busstop, and when we meet at home it's always her place.

In a moment of empassioned despair I went and telephoned Naomi, the lady who used to run the Dual Diagnosis "Nutter Club" (as I called it). I'm not her patient and she knows I'm only phoning for advice. I would never expect practical help from her: she's far too snowed under by all her other cases... She returned my call this morning saying the best thing I can do, to get more help, is say to my GP that I need a psychiatric referral ~ or more to the point, to enquire as to where the current one has got to. When I turned up feeling depressed about two months ago, she said she was referring me to a psychiatrist. The other option is to ask for help via the methadone clinic; but Naomi underlined for me how prejudiced psychiatrists can be against drug users (that must mean they're prejudiced against most of their patients as most people with ongoing mental health issues these days are drug-takers, if not full-blown drug-addicts like me...)

She reminded me of stuff I suppose I already knew in my heart: that if you want help for depression, for example, you shouldn't downplay the "suicidal ideation" nearly all depressives get. I just don't like talking about stuff like that; unless I really feel bad in the moment I mention it, I nearly always feel separated from my own feelings and myself when I do so, so there's a good chance I'd have to hold myself back from laughing. I can't take myself seriously the way I'm "supposed to". I just can't. Well I'll try... but I wonder what I think this doctor can do..? I don't want any more meds or drugs. The one thing I think might help is counselling... I mean, I hate to admit this, as counselling has always been the knee-jerk response of health professionals of all persuasions... but who knows; maybe it would help...? It's true I still feel traumatized by the mere fact that I went totally fruitloops barking bonkers in early 2011. I certainly do not feel I've had any closure on this issue.

Binky says that what I need is the same manner of Supported Housing she lives in. And that I need a social worker and a thing called a CPA which means a Care Plan Approach ~ a written contract-type billing of what treatment I can expect and call upon when and from whom, especially in emergency. Because as far as I'm aware I have nothing like this. No community nurse I can get in touch with. All I know about handling emergency situations is that I'm meant to present myself to the nearest mental hospital's emergency department. Where they seem deliberately to keep everyone waiting for hours, as if the long waiting time is going to put anybody off when actually all it does is severely annoy some already annoyed people and help further to unravel others who have already passed their wits' ends.

So really, No. No true help is available anywhere. Maybe I would do better in a Dual Diagnosis Service (geared towards mentally deranged drug addicts) rather than the one I go to, which seems to be geared to the needs of people whose main issue is the drugs. Giving up the drugs never seemed to help my mental states in the past, which is why I'm somewhat doubtful that just giving up heroin is really going to do much good to my mind. It'll probably do my body far more favours. The two street drugs most associated with mental ill health and addiction are cocaine and speed in all their forms, neither of which I've touched in I don't remember how long. In many cases, cannabis is probably worse for a person's mental health than anything else, including crack. Which is a big reason why I loathe the stuff with such passion.


All that spliff-toking has ever done to me over the past few times, scattered as they were over many years, was to bring on paranoid psychotic symptoms without any redeeming features (such as elevated mood). The last time I smoked cannabis was a complete accident that happened because I'd been collecting cigarette butts from a nearby bus-stop and found what I'd taken for a nice fat rollie and not really noticed the herbal flavour until my mind was already enrobed by amnesiac paranoia. Then there's alcohol and "alcohol is a depressant so that's what's probably making you depressed" as many people told me... So how come I've felt equally bad, and sometimes more so without the drink..?  I don't think heroin helps me... Naomi did say this morning that she thought I'd probably been self-medicating bipolar disorder for years with heroin; and yes it did used to seem to stabilize my moods. Which it doesn't do any more. So apart from its inefficacy, I want rid of that stuff because as a member of my family once pointed out, it has killed my creativity. And it certainly has. In the early days of addiction, heroin might make a person feel more creative. But I don't think they usually are any more creative, in terms of the number of things created and their quality...

Naomi asked what my exact label was and when I told her "schizoaffective" she said she feels I'm far more towards the bipolar side of that diagnosis than the schizo one. Which puts her in accord with everyone else I know. Neither I nor any of my friends think of me as "schizophrenic". In fact the only person ever to use that expression has been my GP, who doesn't seem to perceive any meaningful difference between schizophrenic and schizoaffective. Well from what I've seen in others there's a wide gulf separating the two. Schizophrenia is an ongoing psychosis characterized by disorders of thought. Schizoaffective bipolar disorder, which I'm supposed to have, is an extreme disorder of moods with some schizophrenic features. There's a second type of schizoaffective disorder, which Binky's supposed to suffer from, which involves severe depression on top of schizophrenia. The doctors seem to have successfully medicated most of her depression away but schizophrenic features persist. If you get her talking on the right subjects, she can sound completely delusional...

Binky also says some weird things that are basically her shit. Eg that if I read too much about my own alleged condition the doctors will alledge that what I'm telling them is the result of my researches, not my experience. Well this cannot be true as I wasn't well enough to pick up any knowledge about what schizoaffective disorder actually was until I'd recovered enough from last year's episode to be clear-headed enough to actually take any information in. And between that time and this I haven't seen any psychiatrists at all. Also some of my most extreme experiences are barely touched upon by any modern texts ~ I only saw them described in Victorian textbooks I was able to access online. Plus the way I'd describe my experience and the way it tends to be expressed by others are very different. Example: I have experienced my thoughts exploding into starbursts. I've never heard anyone describe it that way. Other people talk of "racing thoughts", but that symptom never happens to me until the mania is so severe I'd be having difficulty communicating. Binky talks of racing thoughts she says she experiences in the night but I cannot relate to whatever it is she means. A person who comes home in the early hours of the morning only to find they've lost their keys might characterize their thoughts as "racing" ~ but that's nothing at all like the racing thoughts of mania, which are literally in such extreme fast-forward you can barely catch hold of a single one without it exploding into scores of others skedaddling in all directions with the utmost rapidity. So it's almost impossible to say what you're thinking about at all ~ the subject has changed so many times, the original point totally lost. You can't even remember where you've been, let alone how you got there...

Ho-hummm you see I have got on this subject YET AGAIN. And WHY? Because there is no closure. All I want is some validation and maybe some explanation... of what on earth it is that has been happening to me.

As for this "help" that I supposedly need... what help? When? How? And WHY?? ;-)  :-(  :-)


Illustrated: (1) digging one's own grave (which is what you do when you tell anything to a psychiatrist...) (2) fuschia pink (3) hyperactivity (4) Vanilla Ice with Madonna

HERE'S SOME MADONNA
Watch the very beginning... why do you think she wants to start her concerts with readings from Revelation..?



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Saturday, 22 September 2012

Judy Garland: A Complete Mess

I SAW A TV FILM called Life With Judy Garland: Me And My Shadows first thing in the morning. My: was she a mess. I knew she had her pill problems, but didn't realize they were quite that bad. In the end she was taking 1600mg a day of Seconal, on top of heavy doses of (prescribed) amphetamine. Plus she was drinking heavily. Barbiturates like Seconal are supposed to magnify the effects of alcohol considerably. They also cancel out the jitterier side-effects of speed, so you get a double-high.

In the beginning she was depicted on speed giving a master performance: singing her heart out, gesturing, pinging across the stage, reaching out to audience members' hands etc. Then she put in an Oscar-nominated performance opposite James Mason in the 1954 film A Star Is Born ~~ and yet no-one wanted to hire her afterwards because by that stage in her career she was already considered unreliable.

In the end she was performing concerts in theatres for practically no money because she owed it all to the IRS as back taxes for movies made the decade before. Drunk, confused, forgetting what song it was, tangling herself up in the microphone wire. And booed off the stage in Australia.

Her poor daughter Lorna Luft (upon whose memoir the film was based) had to tell a family court judge that she wanted to be with her mom rather than her dad because her mother couldn't live without her. This was true, in the most literal way. The judge sighed and granted custody to "Miss Garland". And the drunken, drugged confusion continued.

Towards the end, Lorna, who is barely in her teens, is reduced to a state of nervous collapse and physical exhaustion and realizes she just cannot go on. So Judy Garland is left alone and drinking. One night she cannot sleep despite all that Seconal and so she takes several more. And is found on the bathroom floor, dead.

It was a pretty horrible story. Funny how when you see something close-up it doesn't seem in the slightest bit "glamorous". A lot of people do consider drug-taking and even drug addiction glamorous. The more you see, the less you like it. But many don't see the full details until they themselves are addicted. By that time your one comfort, that seems to give you life, is the thing that is killing you.

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I wasn't trying to say yesterday that I thought my lovely label would get my any special treatment. Merely that I tick a box. So they would know what preconceptions to shove my way if I ever did get inpatient "care"...

Here's a furry picture of a cute koala.


Illustrated: the woman to the left in the second picture is Jacqueline Susann, author of the 30,000,000 copy bestseller about pillpopping, Valley of The Dolls...

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MUSIC: Judy Garland sings THE MAN THAT GOT AWAY in A Star Is Born

 
I HOPE YOU HAVE A NICE WEEKEND
 
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Thursday, 2 August 2012

Borderline, Bipolar and Schizophrenia Among Friends

THERE'S NOT a lot to say [he says at the beginning of quite a long post], except  my mood has plummeted drastically, so that today I've felt unwell most of the day.

I went to see my friend Pinky and she got me to lay down in her bed. I was doing everything to play the sick act, bar wearing pajamas and a Victorian nightcap. O, and no thermometer poking out of my mouth. I nearly purchased a funky digital one in cobalt blue on monday because I was having a manic time. But, fortuitously, ssomething came between me and my money. I still spent "120 on Monday on next to nothing at all. I even plunked down money on Madonna videos that no shop in London appeared to have in stock. Why HMV wouldn't stock Madonna ~ the biggest-selling music act still alive ~ I've not a clue. O yeah and the two biggest record shops in London, Tower Records Piccadilly and the Virgin Megastore Oxford Street have both closed down. ~ And I'm meant to be the crazy one here.

Pinky says my mental "illness" is mostly bipolar mania and says that when I'm hyper I do not realize how high I actually am. She also appears to think I have far more manic episodes than I think I do. So do other people. That's why Mother Hubbard insisted I was bipolar a good ten years before I actually attained the diagnosis ["schizoaffective bipolar ~ differential diagnosis: bipolar 1 disorder"]. Even the Psycho-Iatrist in the old drugs clinic asked whether I was hypomanic when I was plainly "normal". Just because I was chatting away in an over-familiar way. The fact is, I have manic aspects to my ordinary personality ~ a tendency to hyperactivity, leapfrogging ideas and ultrafluent thought.

What gets me most, though, is the assumption by so very many people tht my depressed self is somehow my real and actual self when ~ solipsistic narcissism aside ~ my True Self is only truly manifest in the brilliant vehemence of Mania.

By the way I'm really glad not to be Bipolar Type 2 because most of those (on average) spend 40 times more days depressed than hypomanic. And in many (but by no means all) of the cases ~ especially at the trendier end of the spectrum ~ their borderline hypomania would be no different at all from my Proper Normal Self On Parole from my consistently lingering dysthymia. (That's a posh way of pointing out that one's baseline default mood is actually subsyndromal depression...)!

I felt so ill this morning it took two hours to heave and haul myself out of bed and to push and prod myself a-down the road and down to Pinxx's... and all the rest of it. I really felt lousy. That's why I've not managed to compose myself enough to post anything subsequent to my Manic in the Night extravaganza. I was thinking about my "mental illness" and how it's a "psychotic condition" and a "severe mood disorder" and more to the point, a severe manifestation of a severe mood disorder anyhow, and how just thinking about this could completely do my head in because I'm living with a condition that never truly lets up and that it's considered dangerous, bizarre, unpredictable and obscene and degrading by our Society in General and how I do not want to Live Like This in fact I so frequently don't want to go on living that on my lower days I estimate my odds of Death By Suicide at 85%, with a 10% chance of Death By Firing Squad In Time of War; 5% likelihood of the distant eventuality of Old Age taking me...

Pinky and I got into an intense conflab about "what did I think truly was wrong with her" ~ a lady I sued to consider the most mentally messed-up person I had met, with a treble diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder, Paranoid Schizophrenia (which means a psychotic state with fixed and complex delusions; many other psychotic states can feature paranoia ~ severe depression, bipolar disorder, delusional disorder, PTSD, or even Paranoid Personality Disorder... plus she has in the past suffered from severe psychotic depresion (ie she has schizoaffective disorder, but her symptoms are markedly different from mine. For one thing she is the Major Depressive subtype. Schizoaffectives are also often differentiated, for research purposes, into schizophrenic and affective (primarily mood-disordered) subtypes. Meaning she is the schizophrenic subtype of depressive schizoaffective disorder; I'm the affective subtype of bipolar schizoaffective disorder. Her symptoms are mostly schizophrenic whereas mine are mostly manic. Of course I spend far more of the time depressed than manic, but, like I say, my depression is far more likely to be taken as a manifestation of my true self; wheresa when I am manic, the energy just shines out of me, I cannot hide it and, moreover, never have any compunction to do so! Pinky's mood swings are nearly all "Borderline"-related. In fact most of her problems and most of her recent hospitalizations appear to me to be consequences of her personality disorder and not the (far more severe) psychotic illness she has lived with for about twenty years now.

One thing I have learned about Personality Disorders over my years as a junkie (personality-disorderd individuals being far more likely to develop severe drug problems than "ordinary" people)... is that their behaviour often seems inexplicable to outsiders. Even though personality disorders are usually considered "milder" than true mental illnesses (an excuse doctors frequently use not to treat personality-disordered individuals, no matter how desperate, how crisis-ridden they may be...)

In fact, I had managed to "self-medicate" away my chronic, crushing depression so successfully that the mental health professionals at my drug clinic, after more than four hours of interviews, became obsessed with the notion that I, too, might have an underlying Personality Disorder ~ and I was awarded the task of looking them all up and trying to pinpoint which I might be.

The psych nurse, who should really be working as a clinical psychologist ~ that's far more up her street than titration nursing, her normal rôle, seemed infatuated by the idea that I should be on Cluster C, the anxiety cluster, which would make me Avoidant, Dependent or Obsessive-Compulsive. I've only picked up Avoidant characteristics in recent years, have never been Dependent (in this context it means upon other people ~ anyone who knows me knows I'm INDEPENDENT! And I'm nowhere near OCD enough to have that personality disorder.

The only ones I matched were Borderline ~ because I'm highly emotional, but extremely UNimpulsive ~ ie going totally against type in that respect. And although I do get the urge to self-harm, I've not indulged in such behaviour for years. I also have some characteristics of Schizotypal, although I don't consider myself aloof or cold. I do coin many of my own words, am a believeer in "magic" (ie spirituality and psychic powers and so on. And like both Borderlines and Schizotypals have long been prone to depersoalization and derealization (feeling that the Self and World are Unreal) and psychic or psychotic-like experiences. Apart from drugs (which don't "count") physical illness and severe STress have been far more likely than anything else to bring these on.

O and by the way, if you have a "major mental illness" that better accounts for your symptoms than a Personality Disorder then that's your diagnosis. Because I could also, while I'm manic, be diagnosed ADHD by someone who didn't know better ~ because I fulfill all the diagnostic criteria. But when you realize manic people are by definition severely hyperactive and that distractability and inattention is a big part of the bipolar "high" then things should become sparklingly clear. Plus the medication for ADHD, which takes the form of "uppers" sometimes even literal "Speed" (Adderall, which Anna Grace is on, is literally amphetamine ~ ¾ dexamphetamine (the righthand molecule) and ¼ levoamphetamine (the lefthand molecule). Speed being the absolute last thing a person who already feels hyped up, high and grandiloquent, should go near. The reason why some bipolars do take stimulant drugs, by the way, far from "evening out hypomania" as Stephen Fry once claimed, is to intensify the bipolar high. manic states are nothing if not labile: the mood as likely to switch to agitated or irritable fury as states of ecstatic exaltation. Hence the perceived need for drugs in some people. The absolute last thing I'd want when I'm already on a natural high that can outstrip drugged states in every single way is something that's going to make me even higher and possibly flip me out. No, the only nonprescribed drug I've ever felt the need for when manic is Valium!

One last thing what about this poor 16 year-old Chinese swimmer, who pings so fast through the water she actually outdid the male 50 metres freestyle champion when setting her World Record.

And how disingenuous of the American coach John Leonard to describe her feats of excellence as "disturbing" and to allege the poor girl was somehow cheating.

Her name, by the Way, Ye Shi Wen 葉詩文 (叶诗文 in simplified characters), means Leaf Poetry Text!

Have a lovely Bipolar Day, Everbody... What's Left of It...


Illustrated: Susanna Kaysen was misdiagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder and confined to a mental hospital for a year and a half in the 1960s after self-harming and a suicide attempt; she was played in the film Girl Interrupted by Winona Ryder... Chinese wonderwoman Leaf Poetry Text in the pool and with her
WELL-EARNED GOLD MEDAL.
WELL DONE, LEAF POETRY!

Tuesday, 31 July 2012

Manic in the Night

I STARTED CYCLING in an antidrug meeting yesterday. In case that brings to mind imagery of me circling the group on a bike, that's not what I mean. I got the expression from Anna Grace,
who's also bipolar. I mean my mood became exuberant and hyper and I became very talkative and went shopping for DVDs. That's how I ended up with five Orbital albums for the bargain price of £16. I didn't really think I was anything more than very slightly hypomanic.

Night fell, however, and my mood went shooting up. I found myself doodling sentences in Japanese till past four a.m. At one point I got very jittery and anxious, so I went down the shop for a cyder. Glugging it back I managed to relax, which is just as well, because I continued going up higher and higher. By five a.m. I felt exactly as if I'd just got home from a night clubbing on Es and whizz and that the drugs were still going full-on.

Of course I had no luck sleeping. Lying in bed helped me relax, but sleep was nowhere on the horizon. Eventually I did end up conking out intermittently. I had to get up at eleven to pay my friend Pinky £40 she needed back today. My mood has gone down a bit, but it hasn't switched poles. I was very jittery earlier, but now I just feel weird. It's five to three and fatigue has caught up with me. It's too early to sleep and too late to do much with the day.

Has everyone been watching the Olympics? I should be very excited about them, being as they're going on in this fine metropolis. I heard they had twenty-four Mary Poppins aerialists at the opening ceremony. Was it any good? Did we put China's Spectacular to shame? I've yet to connect the satellite dish to my television. It seems a cable TV installer cut the wires, so I need to reconnect them. The hole in the wall through which they trail is big enough for a baby mouse to set up home.

I don't know whether I need to see a doctor: I felt really ill this afternoon. Physically done in.

I know I was manic last night because when I walked to the shop I felt like someone ws pushing me all the way there, like when you have a strong wind backing you up from behind...

Well I'd better go; I'm really tired now.

Take care Everyone...


Illustrated: Olympic cycling; Olympic Mary Poppinses; "Rapid Cycling and Mixed States as 'Waves'"

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MUSICAL BREAK

CANCER RESEARCH FEATURING EVA CASSIDY: FIELDS OF GOLD
This is the only TV advert that's ever made me cry...




EVA CASSIDY: FIELDS OF GOLD




Diagnostic & Statistical Manual: Psychiatry’s Deadliest Scam
I found out about this from Madinsanecrazy's blog. But she didn't post the video up, saying it wouldn't fit for some reason. Maybe it's something to do with Wordpress..?

 
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