Inquiry into Addiction Services…

DESPITE ALL THE HATERS sending emails like “cannot you believe you moan about addiction services, they work well and moaners like you should be shot” there are many many more people like me out there. Even more so disillusioned.

Work done for “Perspectives” (research and graphic display) with a very highly respected and qualified researcher for Otago Univershity convinced me that the problem was even worse than I first diagnosed. Recovery Perspectives Titlerecovery perspectives excer

You see – rightly or wrongly people feel they should not speak out. Some fear the licenses for driving will be revoked (in truth, this has been known to happen for crazy reasons…), others don’t even enrol to vote for reasons known best to themselves.

But all share something in common – the services and help they require could be improved by them coming forward, voting and putting their names behind a change.

Here is a letter I received tonight from an extremely well-respected lady, whom used to work in an office next to my girlfriend who worked in the mental health sector and first encouraged me to write the worlds shittiest blog.

Please read. Please support. Please have your say.

—————————————————-

You’re receiving this message from former Mental Health Commissioner Mary O’Hagan because you have taken action in the past on campaigns for a better mental health system.
unnamed.jpg

Dear Mr Fiendipoobum,

In today’s Budget announcement Finance Minister Grant Robertson has promised future funding for mental health will depend on the outcome of the Government Inquiry into Mental Health and Addiction.

All of us want to know there will be support available for us, our loved ones, friends and whānau, when we experience mental distress or addiction.

The Government Inquiry gives us the biggest opportunity I’ve seen in my lifetime to change the system so that no-one is turned away and everyone get more than medication.

SIGN FOR A SYSTEM CHANGE

A lot of people can’t get help when they need it. Every week I hear stories of desperate people who can’t get access into services, with mental health care facilities at capacity and not enough staff.

I used mental health services for several years as a young woman. At the time, all I got was a ‘pills and pillows’ service and grim predictions from professionals for my future.

Their predictions were all wrong; for the last 30 years I have advocated for change in mental health at the local, national and international levels, including as a commissioner at the Mental Health Commission which had oversight of the mental health system.

The People’s Mental Health Report showed the system is not working. People get too many pills, too much coercion, and not enough support to get work, housing, talking therapies, community connections, self-belief and hope for their future.

There is a groundswell of support for fundamental change in mental health and addiction and the government has said of the Inquiry that ‘nothing is off the table’.

That’s why I’ve partnered with ActionStation in asking for a system change in the way mental health is treated and talked about in New Zealand.

Sign the open submission to the Mental Health Inquiry: Open access to a full menu of services

We at PeerZone are a social enterprise run by and for people with mental distress where we develop and deliver resources and supports for our peers who have mental distress. We believe with social justice and the right kind of support all people with experience of mental distress can lead great lives.

The PeerZone team and many of our supporters have created The Wellbeing Manifesto for Aotearoa New Zealand; it starts where the People’s Mental Health Report left off, with wide-ranging and long-term recommendations, based on our lived experience. It is our submission to the Government Inquiry and I invite you to sign and support it too.

The Submission calls for all the sectors that have responsibility for wellbeing, distress and addiction — such as health, social development, justice, corrections and education — to jointly fund a full menu of services at the local level, in partnership with people affected by distress and addiction.

This menu includes:

→ personal and whānau support;
→ income, work and housing support;
→ talking therapies and treatments;
→ spiritual healing;
→ and crisis responses.

The services need to be co-delivered and working together as much as possible, in such settings as primary health facilities, marae, community centres and large workplaces.

At the same time, the workforce needs to undergo a transformation so that cultural workers and peer workers (those who have lived experience of distress and addiction) work alongside the traditional workforce with equal status and in equal numbers.

Your voice will add power to our submission for these ambitious goals. Will you sign onto our Submission to the Inquiry?

ADD YOUR NAME

Thanks for all you do,

Mary O’Hagan 
Director of PeerZone

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Naloxone hydrochloride gets a drug charge in NZ

Stupidly, given the position I was in years ago of using and living with heavy opiate fiends, NZ police found a vial of narcaine or narcan and charged me with possession of a controlled drug.

Given the fact others had over dosed in the house, including me, this drug possession could have saved lives.

In fact, a few did die of over dose. The police then took great delight in locking people up under the guise of manslaughter convictions.

Meanwhile, my life saving collection of drugs was destroyed and I was charged under misuse of drugs act.

Actively narcissistic behavior by New Zealand Police and the Prosecution service, which happens to be police in N.Z.

Naloxone info found on my tiny smartish phone…

wiki explanation of narcan

Time update on surgeon general advisory in U.S.A

Would a life have been saved if we had access to those drugs? Possibly.

Would harm have come from us having access to those drugs? Most definitely not.

Final score…

Police 3 charges, 2 convictions

Junkies -1

When someone is struggling…

If someone is struggling, don’t hand them a gun with a bullet in it. They might shoot you before working out it was meant for themselves….

My year has sucked arse with exceedingly hot chilly in it.

Cannot see kid, powerless and unable to make my own decisions on anything, getting fucken grief off everyone I know when I even try to do something half decent and every cunt out there remembers one little shitty thing, not a hundred good ones.

And, at the end of the day, we all struggle.

I admit to struggling more than ever this year. Age is a part of it, sore back, thinning hair, overwhelming sense of having missed life and love.

Have been saying this a lot lately… “I am fucked..”

And I am. 

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Bless me father, for I have sinned. Has been a whole life since my last confession… So here goes fuckall…

Started smoking again after seven years of non smokerville. Have a huge hole in me that am trying to fill with unhealthy doomed relationships… Can totally understand sex addicts… Put it that way…

Having moved out of the “big smoke” to a little place in the country ten kilometres from the nearest shoppe’s, loneliness set in, just like being stuck in a small flat by myself for three months. My only “friend” up this way soon turned into a stress. I only had her, and she knew it. Soon I did not want to see her any more as she was only showing up once a week to work on her car and then would not eat or drink water in the sun and refused to listen to any help offered. I met a friendly lady at the supermarket and found myself in a confusing old fashioned love triangle that should not have been. She swore black and blue she was not seeing the father of her kids. I don’t mind if she was just using me for attention from him. If only she would have been honest about it.

Having been just released from custody and being on twelve month intensive supervision through the probation service having a fight and ending up in jail again was not the best course of action.

But it is what happened. I am back home now, but with no friends or support within a 100km. The young girl has found someone else (not hard for a damn pretty and energetic young girl, let’s face it) and me, being me, is truly happy for her. Honestly, for so many reasons….

Conversely it makes me unhappy. She could be doing so many things. Creative and thoughtful things. But appears to be still too interwoven into “gangsta” land….. Never mind… Her life… Not mine….

So, father, I did some damage to someone. I don’t ask their forgiveness, but would like to apologise and try putting things right. The system (Police) just want me in jail. But how does that help the victim? I cannot do anything for them from jail.

So, life. Has gone WORSE to WORSE.

Am lost. Do not know who I am any more. If one person appreciates my efforts it astounds. One hundred good things are outweighed by one bad.

The scales of justice and human perception are truly fucked.

Therefore, so am I.

AFTER coming up here to escape drama and trouble, Narcotics Anonymous “re-acquaintanced” itself with my goodself. Have been to a camp out, and was really enthusiastic about a few of the smaller meetings in places like Palmerston North and Foxton. These have proven very useful to me, and me to them in some instances.

My higher power sometimes works well. There are multiple instances, but here is one…

A lady whom I really appreciate in her efforts with me and other struggling addicts fronted up when she heard the judge had confined me to my home, NOT to enter the local township (the only road from my place goes to the town, btw!) and that there was no provision for attending N.A or other supports. The judge, the police and the lying informants are setting me up to fail. This lady, same age as me (just saying) sends me a text saying she is at the Palmy North Christmas Majic show. Having nothing better to do for my happiness deficit that is life, I drove there. The very long way around so as to only skirt the local town by a few hundred metres, of course…

I get to the show and park right at the entrance, not knowing if it costs or anything. It costs $5 to get in, which I pay with a twenty.

I am thanking my higher power for cheering me the fuck up a little and show the couple running the stall my neck tattoo… My signature… For, fuck me and my higher power, the first stall I see at the show is this….
mushy_stall
Yuhp. Go tell that to the grandkids.

But wait, there’s more…

Waasigns not contemplating buying one of these things, but was interested enough to take the photo…  The man behind me at the gate comes running with a new $10 note grasped in an outreached hand…

“Sir, sir – You dropped this $10 note”. 

The sign said “THREE LITTLE ONES FOR TEN BUCKS”

mushyies
Enough said……

So, thanks to the lady who runs the candy floss truck, there was some good to come of the day out the house. Upon my return to put the little shrooms next to some plants on my porch, the chickens ran out to great me.

“Food, food” they screamed in the annoying  Gallus domesticus fashion….

I, for the first time in a month, found a nest full of eggs. 11 of them. Hidden between house and flowers – the dark patch in the picture…

Thank you for the Candy Floss and Foxton Fizz. You made my day.

Pink Truck

Was glad to have been of service…

In an absolutely stupendous way, am glad to have been of service.

A number of the unfortunately afflicted, otherwise known as those whom deal with Wellington Addiction Services, have contacted the author of this, the worlds shittest blog, either asking for advice for upcoming meetings, or commenting on their own experiences with the said Addict DisServices.

Some of the best service I have been, to both the afflicted and the DisService, has been verified today. This is a POSITIVE OUTCOME of a USER LEAD APPROACH to dealing with a perceived LACK OF ENGAGEMENT FROM THE SERVICE.

WHEN GOING TO THE SERVICE AND MEETING WITH
CLARISSA “Yes Mistress” BRODERICK
AND
TOM “Baa Baa like a sheep” FLEWETT,
JUST REMEMBER THE IMAGES YOU HAVE IN YOUR MIND OF THEIR
STRAP ONS,
WHIPS AND CANES.

Imagine Clarissa in a head mistress uniform strapping your bare arse with a cane. Imagine Tom keeping her away from the animals…. Imagine whatever you like that helps you deal with them fucking you.

http://scripts.iucr.org/cgi-bin/paper?S0567740877002544 Some public speakers use the technique of imagining their audience as being naked. This works reasonably well when attempting to control nerves and self doubt etc. Given the possibility that you do not have access to high levels of PROPRANOL this is entirely relevant. Just remember the rumour that CCDHB has a huge supply of sponsored strap ons supplied by visiting drug company sales representatives and imagine vividly what they do with them whilst looking them in the eye.

It will stop you presenting to them as annoyingly angry when they deny your well thought and well researched treatment regime to coerce you into their antiquated and highly dysfunctional therapy system.

Remember to praise them both for having nice arses on your way out to score elsewhere.

Very depressed, giving up, dying, watching TRUE DETECTIVE and my high higher power….

Have been so depressed lately. Mentioning possibilities of, or the proximities to, self harm or suicidal thoughts would get me in trouble with the people whom I always say “NO” to.

HINT FOR NEW USERS —
** always say no to all questions regarding anything to do with hearing voices, having suicidal thoughts, having been committed to any institution or having been a drug addict.
JUST SAY NO

I walked to probation expecting to be shafted. The lady who saw me was very dubious at first, but I played her a couple of telephone recordings that had been made between myself and the mother of my daughter. The probation lady looked at me in a new light. There is a long story about this meeting to be written, but will reduce it to – FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE HANDING MYSELF IN TO POLICE TWO AND A HALF MONTHS AGO AND BEING IN JAIL, SOMEONE WITH A REAL SAY AS TO MY FUTURE LISTENED TO ME.

My lawyer, Val Nisbett, has been completely class A fucken USELESS. He expects to be paid a lot of money. WHAT ON EARTH FOR? Piss off Val, you are proving yourself worthy of trailing in your kids Mums wake as she heads up the capitalist law ladder.

I talked with this nice probation lady for over two hours. Did warn her that we may need a whole day. For the first time I talked about the role my beautifully hearted young lady friend had in the situation. The probation lady was astounded, and probably thought maybe she should have ticked the boxes for me “hearing voices” and having “irrational thoughts” after all.

This young lady (call her Legs) legged it away from Wellington mid April as she was having addiction issues of her own. She rung me when I was at the mother of my daughters house. The mother of my daughter heard me talking to her, heard me being very understanding and supportive. Heard me being a very nice and thoughtful person. Upon showing the mother of my daughter a photo of the girl concerned, there was an instant pang of some odd chemical smashing it’s way through my head. OOOOPS. There was a spark of something there. My kids Mum … well …. MAYBE I SHOULD NOT HAVE SHOWN HER THAT DAMN PHOTO. 

Upon arriving home from probation at 1:40, and having been talking and thinking hard about “Legs” half an hour earlier…. There was NO SURPRISE AT ALL when GMAIL showed me she had emailed me at 1:27. Legs, to my knowledge, did not even know my email address.

Somewhat shamefully, we have sent and received 66 emails since. Some of mine have been five thousand words. Some of hers have made more sense and been more concise (!!!)… 66 emails in four days sounds like a lot. But then, having thought it was getting out of hand, there were no emails for two 20 hours periods. So,  66 emails in four days with almost two days off. This is embarrassing. I think I bloody well like this girl. Bugger. She is far too good for me, but there are things we should learn and teach eachother. And, at the end of the day, we are able to just have some stupid shameless fun. I can, admittedly, do this with almost anyone, despite their better better sense of self worth. Whatever, it was as surprising to me as all holy fuck when I started wishing this beautiful young thing was old and ugly so we could have a relationship and fly under the radar.

Was so happy to hear from her. When last seeing her she was a little confused and walking off. No hug, no wave, no goodbye from me, as was running late to get my daughter on the Tuesday evening. I will always regret not being a little more forceful with her in some ways, but then when she rang crying her eyes out and needing a talk, there was relief in me as she re-assured me she was in a good place. 

I then spent six weeks in jail and am now stuck at home. Have been very depressed.

As has she.

Upon hearing about jail and everything, she started blaming herself for my predicament. Honestly, I have never met anyone quite like this one. I like her way too much and sending some honest emails such as “when you were asleep in my flat that morning, I took off and had a quick bonk with someone else, and you thought I was on Facebook the whole time,….”

We were never a couple at all. But, later that afternoon, when sneaking in to wake her, I sat there and thought how much I trusted her and how damn cute she is….. And…. What is this? An emotion of some sort?

I was very close to giving up and using a lot of drugs and just not giving a fuck on Monday. Then there was the drug and alcohol psych meeting on Thursday. This is part of the NZ Court system, as they consider virtually every problem in my life, or offending, to be drug related.

The drug guy was suspicious of me (forewarned maybe?) but after two and a half hours (the meeting was only two) he gave me a lift home as my ankle bracelet was giving off alarming dangerous vibrations and scheduled another appointment for Monday. AT MY HOUSE.

This time last week there was no way on this planet I would let a strange A&D psych guy into my flat. But now I am okay with it.

I had not heard from “Legs” for the last twenty hours. You guessed it – I get a nagging email from her about getting rid of my clutter, tidying my flat and doing some positive carpentry or painting or drawing. This email arrives just as the A&D guy ushers me to his car.

It is now Friday evening. And, having done nothing all day, I am excited.

TOMORROW IS GOING TO BE CRAZY CREATIVE DAY.

I know this, I can feel it. It’s like my ADHD is in control slightly. My motivation has come back. The old feeling of having “ants in the pants” has returned.

Today was freezing. Got into bed and watched the whole of TRUE DETECTIVE. Was busy contemplating if I had annoyed legs a little too much as she had not emailed since 1am… When…. 7pm arrived and she emailed. She emailed during a very interesting little bit of the last episode of TRUE DETECTIVE where the guy basically dies, goes into a coma and then is sad and annoyed when he is woken up as he was with his dead three year old child whilst dead.

MY HIGHER POWER…

is People on the Same Wavelength. I have explained how this works elsewhere. But it is science based, not faith based.

The very fact that “LEGS” is being discussed and she emails for the first time within ten minutes shows that she is on my wavelength, and that all these “co-incidences” are mathematically not random events.

THE FIRST TIME I DIED….

Was many years ago. 26 or 27 years. This is not the second time where the out of body experience has been described….

When I died the first time it was just “stopping”. There were some drugs in my system, yes. I was laying on my girlfriends bed and just “stopped”. For a few seconds it felt like the most amazing opiate sensation. Then my mind lifted out of my head, and barely noticable in time differential, the spine and all other nerves followed suit. I can never explain this bit, but you do not feel yourself turning upside down, but every time I have had this, you are looking down at yourself, although your physical body is laying face up on the bed / floor / road / river.

And then again, I cannot explain this, but the sensation of moving AGAINST gravity (ie – UPWARDS according to Einstein) and TOWARDS a bright white light is overwhelming. Yet, the sensation is more like gently closing your eyes. So, you are moving upwards, towards a white light, whilst looking downwards. Come on Einstein. Explain time, space and this little mess then.

This is where things get interesting. That white light is filling up all your vision now. The rods and cones of your eyes tell you so. There are no gates, and unfortunately not even Clarissa Broderick in skin tight red lycra and suggestively clutching a designer pitchfork make cameo’s.

THANK YOU SO MUCH TRUE DETECTIVE.

You reminded me of something…. The white light fills everything. It is a three dimensional space with no boundaries. There are soft mumblings, which become distinct. It as if EVERY SINGLE CONVERSATION IN THE WORLD OF ANY TRUE WORTH is in this white space.

I could tune in to any of these conversations. Just by paying attention, or attuning to the conversation. There were some very serious feelings. Serious ebbing and flowing. Serious waves of communication. A few conversations stopped. Although being able to understand them, I felt unable to contribute and make the conversation more worthy. There were multiple examples of this.

Although being worthy, and welcomed, a few dissenting wavelengths helped make up my mind.

To be truly happy being here with these subjects the only thing to do was to come back later.

But, hey, just a few more goes at hearing what that beautiful voice is saying. Yes, that beautiful sound – the soft pink glow to the East. The dawning of a chorus which, when proper tuning on my old transistor radio in my noggin was acheived, was signing my name softly.

Upon leaving the white space, somewhat reluctantly and still undecided as to going back for another look straight away, there was my body. Again, I could see my body, but it was very close. I knew I was facing upwards, and yet I could sense where my body was.

A little like landing a lunar craft in a very early Atari game, the final docking to get back into myself was a little skilful and took my last dying gasp of available energy.

The beautiful voice turned into a thousand decibel shreeeeeeeeakk.

The pink glow to the East turned into a blood red cheek and swollen eye.

For my girlfriend had rung 111, thrown buckets of water over me, thrown me to the floor and had been jumping up and down on me SCREAMING my name at me for minutes on end.

 

This white light is my fucken higher power.

Unreal. It took me how long to work this out again?

I am great at re-inventing the wheel. But when it was my wheel in the first place?

What a cock.

 

Hypertext can be bloody dangerous, you’re correct.

When you need a good kick in the head, along comes some really random stuff to do just that.

More specifically, kick my arse out of a rather gravity laden spiral (ie- downward) and into some sort of recovery.

Without allowing my ADHD out of the confining bag labelled “making sense to you, the unwashed masses” and delving off into the world of “recovery writing” I continue….

Heading to the Doctors on one of my brief Government approved outings to the real world I see REAL LIVE PEOPLE. And some real life live people know me. They, without realising, give me reason to be proud of the person whom was once me. For they followed some advice, learnt from my mistakes, or just plain thought “that crazy old wanker has a point” about something. Something learnt via my public self deflagrations had improved their lot. This was, although not up to the standard of instant gratification and happiness most junkies aspire to, rather uplifting.

Or was it just being outside in the sun with fresh air and real live people around?

And then, today, there is, after much fretting about opening gmail on my behalf, an astounding email from someone. Someone whom has found my email address somewhere or some other. And, somehow, decided to write something.

This amazes me every single time. People take time out of their own lives to write to me. My, currently rather pathetic excuse for a life, gets a boost from this.

If only I wasn’t yawning uncontrollably and struggling not to get back into bed at 3pm. For it has been a long day, old coffee mate comes over with a coffee at 11:30 so I pretend to have been “up and about” before he knocked. Borrowing his phone to call some members of officialdom whom have more than likely put my number on “block” lists proves futile- they obviously are avoiding everyone, not just me. He shows emotion at some of the communications that have been killing any amount of mojo and turning my head into what happens when you’ve been on a childs merry-go-round half an hour too long as an adult.

If not for struggling with simple things like bothering to check my own chin for food deposits before visiting doctors offices, I would take care to head some of this advice and MAKE SURE I ENJOY SOMETHING DESPITE THE CONTROLS AND STUPIDITY (I added the “stupidity” bit, admittedly) OF THE SYSTEM.

Sometimes I cannot open emails or web pages. For a few hours today I have managed it. It feels good.

Enough recovery for now. Season Three of AMERICAN HORROR STORY and a horizontal position in bed await closely.

I know the feeling of not being able to open certain web pages out of sheer, squirming anxiety….
This was appropriate when I was on home detention/probation for 12/6 months respectively for buyin’ the drugs off the ‘net, and I wasn’t allowed shit that could speak hypertext.
Don’t feel obligated to reply, I’m just writing in support.
Channel your energies into whatever gets you through.
I started cooking really nice food spent well over 600 hours playing open-world games on Xbox.
I remember I made a stollen with a log of marzipan through the middle.  Holy fuck, it was good….

The lesson for today is…

Hypertext can be bloody dangerous, you’re correct.

Also useful, given the errors WordPress online editing adds during cut and paste sessions…. 😉

Outside the Realm of the Hungry Ghosts

Gabor Matè had some good advice to hand me when deciding giving up drugs was do-able and realising my ADHD issues where problematic.

He told me to read his books. This, of course, required me to purchase them. Upon reading, and having some eureka moments along the way, I have forever been bestowing the virtues of this man and his work. Subsequently he told me that “they” (yes, you – Wellington Addict DisServices and other backward thinking service providers) could not be pushed into reading his work, they would have to find it for themselves. I have been pushing them ever since. There are many examples of this working. People have been purchasing and reading this work of his. Gabor then suggested to me that “I should probably pay you a commission, but won’t…”

It is not for my gratification that I write his name repeatedly. It is to re-inforce the work he does, one more time. Although being a broke bum with no hope of real worthy capitalist employ, the meagre offerings of book sales commission from an old Jewish Addiction Doctor from Canada does hold little appeal.

One of the first thoughts around a little of his work is to be found here — CANCER IS NOT ADDICTION 

Like most of my work, this is basically sans editing. There is little proof reading and even less effort into producing a document the masses could be bothered with. However, this writing, and others, received some praise from people wanting to link to it, or publish it, if only I would re-write it… Do a spelling check… Not swear quite so much… Withdraw any possible sexual innuendo… And make more sense… Hell, did they really expect proper APA referencing?… PISS OFF, NO FUCKEN WAY. However, there were some subsequent messages from some people who take this sort of thing seriously… One comment of “hey look — this guy [doctor Bob from USA] has been reading your blog… [link]…” I should do some of these guys for plagarism. Or, at least, being on such a similar wavelength they are jamming my brain waves from producing more interesting thought process. 

GABOR talked of his addiction of compulsively buying classical music from shoppes and avoiding the issue of time, finance and the overwhelming desire of his wife to find storage space anywhere in his cluttered shrine to classical music that his wife would prefer to call a house.

GABOR went to Narcotics Anonymous meetings and displaced the “Narcotics” for his “Classical Shopping” problematic addiction.

It seemed to make some sense. Other N.A members commented that his problem and him “were in the right place”.

I have issues with right” place. Maybe “correct” place. Should fit better. Really… RIGHT and WRONG are incorrect terms… 

Which brings us, finally, to the point of this post.

addiction_tattoos_big

http://substanceforyou.com/addictions-and-compulsions-not-know-about/ 

^^^ This is the point. An article on other addictions. ^^^

My latest addiction is, most definitely, a thing of major problematic variety and appears very similar to the much maligned “Death By Duvet”.

Have not filled out paperwork under New Zealand’s Official Information of Privacy Acts to demand information from the Police and other agencies in regards to their seemingly unlawful actions.

This latest addiction could just kill me. 

Have started avoiding emails… People whom were helping me have not heard from me for a week. I feel I am letting them down. I know I am letting myself down. And yet the news show at 6:30pm – 3D #3D_TV3 – got me writing on the computer again. This 41 minutes has been good for me. But am more interested in going to bed and watching pirated MP4’s of BANSHEE and real life advert laden TV3’s WESTSIDE at 8:30. Having hacked in four thousand words last weekend discussing the dangers of home release bail compared to prison (and spent hours editing – for once the subject and writing was worthy of real effort) only to have the computer crash, I have been having very severe anti feelings to all things computer. And all things life in general to be fair.

banshee_crap

On Friday I watched SEVEN complete films, including WATERWORLD (which I quite enjoyed). This, very similar to computer game addiction, is probably very much in line with becoming dangerously and problematically depressed.

I need help. Admitting there is a problem could be the first step. The second may well be getting out of this bloody cell I am imprisoned within – me.

Unfortunately this is outside the REALM OF THE HUNGRY GHOSTS. paulAnd probably more in line with PAUL WOOD. He may just have something newsworthy to say on this… Although, this is becoming a shameless product placement, I don’t care. For PAUL was an inspiration to me in jail. Similar ages, and he held his head up against all odds during his trial and back in jail. See, I was there…

I feel the need to switch off for a few months. Being stuck at home 24 / 7 when you live alone and run out of milk is NO FUN. Not being able to see your kid is NO FUN.

Using heaps of drugs, switching off and being able to “hang in there” is less NO FUN.

My happiness deficit will diminish with the use of drugs. 

(So may the chances of me finding a life diminish equally in proportion to this drug intake)