Monday, August 24, 2009
Shit
I've posted at least 4 emails here since 6/7 and none of them show up here! This leaves a ten week period completely without a voice. I must understand how to save much better than I do now. The first half of June was very good. I didn't think of offing myself at all. The second half was a lot different. I went to that crummy dentist for a clearing, and he goes and does a biopsy on the mouth tissue.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
More Drink
My wife has seen fit to render our dwelling free from the bane of alcohol. Everything gone, and seriously hidden (I tried to find some). This makes those early morning blues hard to take. Well, I guess I can take it. At the least I can buy another bottle and hide it where SHE can't find it. There really are a lot of nooks and crannies in this house for use as hiding places.
The thing that's different about this game is the thirst I have for alcohol. It's never been as attractive as it is now. Maybe that's because I found yesterday the key to the essence of The Terror. I know now what "The Terror" is. Let's see if that realization carries with it some retaliation on the part of my hobgoblins. Maybe this thirst for alcohol is attributable to them.
The thing that's different about this game is the thirst I have for alcohol. It's never been as attractive as it is now. Maybe that's because I found yesterday the key to the essence of The Terror. I know now what "The Terror" is. Let's see if that realization carries with it some retaliation on the part of my hobgoblins. Maybe this thirst for alcohol is attributable to them.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Drinking Interlude
It was about December or January that I began drinking a lot. The Terror would seize me on awakening, usually btween three and five A.M. My relations with alcohol had until then been respectful but distant. It took an awful lot of liquor to get me drunk, and I rarely had the patience to sit through what might be termed a "drinking bout". I'd awaken early, as I said, feeling terrible. The only easily available remedy was drink, and lots of it. I'd work through half a tumbler full of brandy and the pour myself another one. Two or three of those provided a defense against The Terror and sent me back to sleep for the entire morning.
Then Dr. Director intervened, probably in March or April, sentencing me to not drink at all. I could do this, my drinking career being short. And I did it. My wife feeds me a beer now and then. But it's okay. And it has the advantage of prompting The Terror to show up better, not get as fuzzy as it usually does.
Then Dr. Director intervened, probably in March or April, sentencing me to not drink at all. I could do this, my drinking career being short. And I did it. My wife feeds me a beer now and then. But it's okay. And it has the advantage of prompting The Terror to show up better, not get as fuzzy as it usually does.
Suicide No. 2
I didn't have a specific time or place for pondering suicide. Suicidal thinking entered my thoughts on any subject at any time, elbowing its way to front and center. These were mainly in the form of delicious anticipations of the joy of being dead, or mental photos of different kinds of suicide. Wherever I walked or sat or lay, these thoughts would force their way in, not as the consequence of any conscious thoughts of mine. Sometimes I would consciously turn to the problems of suicide and use them as a hideaway from whatever was particularly bothering me at that time.
I bought and read books on suicide. I frequented internet blogs, sites, and other places where I found suicide the central topic. Contrary to the opinion of many would-be suicide preventers, the book by Geo Stone is actually against suicide. No one could read his book and not be impressed by how hard getting a suicide right can be.
I bought and read books on suicide. I frequented internet blogs, sites, and other places where I found suicide the central topic. Contrary to the opinion of many would-be suicide preventers, the book by Geo Stone is actually against suicide. No one could read his book and not be impressed by how hard getting a suicide right can be.
Suicide No. 1
Some time in the second part of last year I realized that my caseload was disappearing. It was easy to forsee an empty future. Since we owed more on the house than it was worth, we were tied to it. No way to get house equity to finance a move to a different job. And that's assuming that a balding 63-year old could get a job. I'd forgotten most of what I knew (which was little enough) about purely legal matters by doing nothing but mediation for twenty years.
I found profound relief in contemplating suicide. My problems seemed insolvable. They still do. When I thought of taking my own life, the pressure, the strain, the stress of my situation seemed to ease, just as a run on the computer's solitaire game would ease me.
I had no previous training in suicide or suicidal acts. I've never slit my wrists like the girls do or taken overdoses of medecine. Though I'd heard a number of things about how to do it, just by reading the papers. I'd prefer it quiet, and I'd prefer it not tearing up my body much, which would shock my wife.
So I started wanting to do what I later learned was called a "bag and band". You put a plastic bag over your head and use something stretchy around your neck, limiting your oxygen to what's in the bag. When you exhaust the air in the bag, you're done. But I found that there was only a 50% or 55% fatality rate, whether through people yanking off the plastic bag or some other oxygen access. So I crossed it off.
Then I committed a mistake. I started talking with Drs. Director and Strauss about my suicidal thoughts. They both jumped on me for that, asking about who would care for Jacky when I was gone? It's true that Jacky has no one but me. No family in Europe except her brother with whom she's on the worst possible terms (Americans have no idea how fraught continental family feuds may be.) But that was not Drs. Director and Strauss main issue. They immediately started emitting smoke and fire when I mentioned suicide. They sure don't want it to happen on their watch. So I backed off, telling them I renounced my suicidal thoughts as the result of their interventions, and never mentioned the subject again. Nor did they raise it again on their side. My suicidal thinking continued, however.
I found profound relief in contemplating suicide. My problems seemed insolvable. They still do. When I thought of taking my own life, the pressure, the strain, the stress of my situation seemed to ease, just as a run on the computer's solitaire game would ease me.
I had no previous training in suicide or suicidal acts. I've never slit my wrists like the girls do or taken overdoses of medecine. Though I'd heard a number of things about how to do it, just by reading the papers. I'd prefer it quiet, and I'd prefer it not tearing up my body much, which would shock my wife.
So I started wanting to do what I later learned was called a "bag and band". You put a plastic bag over your head and use something stretchy around your neck, limiting your oxygen to what's in the bag. When you exhaust the air in the bag, you're done. But I found that there was only a 50% or 55% fatality rate, whether through people yanking off the plastic bag or some other oxygen access. So I crossed it off.
Then I committed a mistake. I started talking with Drs. Director and Strauss about my suicidal thoughts. They both jumped on me for that, asking about who would care for Jacky when I was gone? It's true that Jacky has no one but me. No family in Europe except her brother with whom she's on the worst possible terms (Americans have no idea how fraught continental family feuds may be.) But that was not Drs. Director and Strauss main issue. They immediately started emitting smoke and fire when I mentioned suicide. They sure don't want it to happen on their watch. So I backed off, telling them I renounced my suicidal thoughts as the result of their interventions, and never mentioned the subject again. Nor did they raise it again on their side. My suicidal thinking continued, however.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
More Wasted Time
Most people want to continue their lives and the lives of others to whom they feel attached. From an evolutionary sense that's reasonable. The more you want to live, the harder you'll work to overcome obstacles that inhibit or destroy that particular desire. I don't feel that way, nor have I for many previous years and decades. I see death as a relief from torture. My life is an intense picture of misery. Caused by myself? Not really. Proceeding from my genetics,circumnatal events? Yes, probably.
Death is to be lusted for, anticipated,---------
Hmmmm.
No. This is not the right way to proceed. It's getting to the center too quickly. The Hobgoblins are activated to too great an extent. Let's concentrate on technical details for a while and maybe then return to this topic
When I started thinking seriously about suicide, a year ago or so, I concentrated on the what and the how, rather than the why. My first outlined project was what I learned later was a "bag and band" operation: you put a plastic bag on your head and pull a long elastic strip around your neck. It's tight enough to close around your neck, but you can continue breathing by sticking your finger under the band and letting air in. Since you've taken some kind of sleeping pill, there is an assumption that once you fall asleep, you'll use up the air in the bag and die.
Advantages: cheap, non-violent, easily available materials.
However, when I started to research this operation on the net, it became apparent that bag and band had significant demerits: People asleep would tear off the bag for more air. Only about fifty to sixty percent of bag and band attempts resulted in death. So I turned away from bag and band, though I still considered it later on.
While I would have loved to be able to overdose on nembutal, that seemed out of the question, since I couldn't afford a trip to Mexico. Also, I am not familiar with the toxicity of other drugs - making overdosing in general hard to implement. It's obvious that lay people who are not doctors are not as familiar with fatal dosages of easily obtained drugs. Doctors who are so familiar can die with ease. Look at the researcher in Washington, D.C., who committed suicide with an overdose of Tylenol! I knew Tylenol was bad but not enough to use in a suicide attempt.
Death is to be lusted for, anticipated,---------
Hmmmm.
No. This is not the right way to proceed. It's getting to the center too quickly. The Hobgoblins are activated to too great an extent. Let's concentrate on technical details for a while and maybe then return to this topic
When I started thinking seriously about suicide, a year ago or so, I concentrated on the what and the how, rather than the why. My first outlined project was what I learned later was a "bag and band" operation: you put a plastic bag on your head and pull a long elastic strip around your neck. It's tight enough to close around your neck, but you can continue breathing by sticking your finger under the band and letting air in. Since you've taken some kind of sleeping pill, there is an assumption that once you fall asleep, you'll use up the air in the bag and die.
Advantages: cheap, non-violent, easily available materials.
However, when I started to research this operation on the net, it became apparent that bag and band had significant demerits: People asleep would tear off the bag for more air. Only about fifty to sixty percent of bag and band attempts resulted in death. So I turned away from bag and band, though I still considered it later on.
While I would have loved to be able to overdose on nembutal, that seemed out of the question, since I couldn't afford a trip to Mexico. Also, I am not familiar with the toxicity of other drugs - making overdosing in general hard to implement. It's obvious that lay people who are not doctors are not as familiar with fatal dosages of easily obtained drugs. Doctors who are so familiar can die with ease. Look at the researcher in Washington, D.C., who committed suicide with an overdose of Tylenol! I knew Tylenol was bad but not enough to use in a suicide attempt.
Dreary
June 4th and here we are again. Day after day after day. Not knowing when D-Day will erupt on the scene. Leaving us free to enjoy The Terror. All my actions are efforts to avoid having to face The Terror. But this blog is an attempt to sneak around it and get past its defenses. I don't know whether it will work, but since it's there, I'll try it. I wuz RAISED in the belief that if you get your deepest miseries out in the sunlight, they'll shrivel up and disappear. Has this view gone the way of other freudian mumbo-jumbo? If so, I'm in a fix, indeed.
Back about a year ago, when my caseload started on its download slide and I started thinking about suicide, these suicidal thoughts carried a great soothing power. (No, they've never lost that power; they still have them right now.) I didn't use them to investigate just why they were so satisfying. I just kept elaborating on them. They were there to impede my progress toward understanding The Terror. To keep me in la-la land. As did the alcohol, the pills, the food, the books, whatever.
And this suicide business really calls for a separate post. See you there.
Back about a year ago, when my caseload started on its download slide and I started thinking about suicide, these suicidal thoughts carried a great soothing power. (No, they've never lost that power; they still have them right now.) I didn't use them to investigate just why they were so satisfying. I just kept elaborating on them. They were there to impede my progress toward understanding The Terror. To keep me in la-la land. As did the alcohol, the pills, the food, the books, whatever.
And this suicide business really calls for a separate post. See you there.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)