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…
If you read it all, I will buy you a joint to help your self medicating requirements… Email me when you’ve finished…
Original thought on LEFT HANDED problems and people. Turns out that no one can understand a word of what I write. Too bad.
Which brings us, finally, to the point of this post.
^^^ 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.
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. And 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)
Astounding me is the ability of service providers to tell the Government that health consumers are happier than ever (etc etc)… Apparently the consumers have a “strong” input into services and the changing of the way services are provided.
What a load of shit.
I get email from readers of my blog sometimes. And all the people I talk to on the street. I just got one such email from a guy “S” whom has contacted me before. We have all the same issues as eachother. As does other people. Mr “A”, whom really hates the services in Wellington and has talked about burning the building… Same stories. Every where. ALL THE TIME.
If only 1% of service users say “they are happier with the service” the Government will be told “more people than ever are happier with our services“. The truth is NOT ONE SINGLE PERSON WAS POSITIVE ABOUT THE SERVICE LAST YEAR. 1% NOW SAY THEY ARE “HAPPIER“.
This is a positive to the people that need the Governments money.
To the rest of us, it is a load of old bullocks.
Another person whom supports me and the crap I do has been writing.
Another “S” has been in Mental Health Ward again recently. He “suicided” late last week and was taken off life supports today. He is breathing for himself for first time. Send him your love.
All these stories just don’t stop.
They keep coming. And the way the service providers deal with them has got worse.
Yet, they must show growth in this capitalist world. And that they are.
All these stories just don’t stop.
Yet, I am the only one attempting to bring them to you?
My daughter was a ball kid at the big game on Friday night. Being parent helper was awesome too. Got a pass to go ANYWHERE in the stadium, but just stood on the field near the left hand corner flag. You can see me on tv replays filling up the back of some shots with computer game tattoo’d arms.
The best part of the night… The PHOENIX event organiser comes past and asks if the kids are behaving themselves.
“YES” says me
“Oh really, WHAT ABOUT YOU?” she says somewhat too encouragingly…
“ME? I feel you need to give my arse a decent hard slapping“
After a quick look of shock passes, “Heheheeh, you may be held to that….“
Made a new friend there……… A little worried the microphones stationed only a few foot away picked it up on TV broadcast. But hey, she chuckled without ill feeling when I mentioned that possibility and we really should have swapped numbers. Although that may allow her many beaus to find ways to smash me…….
I am having a TOTALLY SHIT DAY TODAY.
Sometimes I just feel useless. I saw less of my daughter over the school holidays than I do during normal weeks. Combinations of being arrested, other childrens’ birthday party plans and football have left me feeling lonely and useless. Some friends (girls mainly) appear to have ditched me having not replied to any contact from me… One girl I really like, for she really does think and help others, has flown the coup.
So, I go and visit Dad.
The same Dad whom always argues, always tells me I am wrong. Always told me I am ugly.
Just why I would go to my parents house for the first time in months when I need some family and love is beyond me.
What a fucken stupid thing to do.
Now am just getting through the day without doing anything stupid. When your definition of stupid has widened to include “getting out of bed” you know you’re in trouble.
Lucky I have a kid and no drug addictions. Means you just have to look positively.
Self harm is not beyond us. Any of us.
Twenty years ago I was involved with doing some of the first live internet broadcasts out of New Zealand.
http://www.racetothesky.co.nz was one of them.
MONSTA HAS JUST CRASHED OUT OF THIS EVENT.
I should have been there. But, then again… Maybe not. Running around these events, using drugs, perving and inhaling jet fuel…
Better off staying at home feeling like the world sucks.
For it does.
You so do not need an
adrenaline junky life,
stupid kinky BDSM sex
with old married ladies
when you get messages such as…
“HEY , our Son, ______ has been LOVING the football trainings”…
“Hi again, thank you so much for all your efforts,
______ is the happiest and most tired he has been the whole holidays” …..
even tho it was raining….”
Are you doing any more outside normal times?”
“You deserve so much credit for finding any energy at all,
especially with your back. We, as parents, owe you so much…”
All this and I have only been with the kids for a few hours.
One kid has AUTISM quite badly. Intelligent enough, but a real social handful. His mates have adhd, and I have managed to “control” the Autism New Zealand Wellington kid by getting the ADHD kids to help me help him.
I take no prisoners as a coach. But EVERYONE, eventually, can see shit starting to work already. The parents may hate me calling their kids “shit heads” or “lazy little fucks”… I don’t think that is in the coaches handbook.
But then, at the end of the day, the bloody kids end up happy and everyone see’s it all coming together. Just a few passes stick together, some kid does a header even and a kid scores, without it looking like plain dumb luck! Coach demands high fives (NOT HARD ENOUGH BOY. SLAP IT LIKE YOU HATE IT. THAT’S THE WAY). Coach picks up kids who get things right and runs around the field like a home coming from a World FIFA U-20 World Cup Winning team.
Luckily my script of Ritalin is due, the non married blonde who talks kinky as hell, but is actually a bit vanilla and my car are all available.
Even if having a lot of drugs before oral sex whilst driving miles too fast almost bores me.
Still, it’s better than nothing.
It’s just not as good as coaching a bunch of crazies.
AND – PS – EVEN MORE PEOPLE HAVE STUMBLED OVER THIS BLOG AND BRUCE K ALEXANDER.
Whilst I was there, babysitting her drug overdose attempts, (click here) I could not help but notice I was sitting on an overturned home stereo speaker. She has a mattress on the floor. She has no furniture. Yet she does have an ankle bracelet that does not allow her to remove herself from the premises.
Sucks to be her.
Walked around the front of the housing block just now to see if she was there. Her windows were open, so I walked up the stairs.
“HOLY SHIT, IT’S YOU“
Yes, it is me.
“Holy Crap, sorry about the other night, I was… Ueeerrrr….”
Really fucked up and using heaps of glue?
Hey, all good. You want a couch and a seat or what?
“Fucken Aye bro. Thought you were full of shit.“
Nah, I have a large three, two and one seater on the roof of my car. Been there for ten days now. Looks like it might rain, so better move them off the roof…
“Choice bro. Fucken unreal. You’re not kidding me?“
No, I will be back in a couple of minutes.
“I would come help, but I can’t leave the whare(*) aye bro”
(pointing at ankle bracelet)
Yeah, all good… See you in a minute.
The most amazing thing about this exchange was she remembered me at all. She remembered I told her had a couch for her was therefore not that amazing. Amazingly, although completely nuts and abusing every mind numbing substance known to man, she looked at me clear eyed and she honestly looked as though she remembered all the good things we had shared between the bouts of conscience killing “rest periods.”
So looked at me with respect, tolerance and knowledge.
This may have been as I treated her with respect, tolerance and shared knowledge with her that night when babyshitting her.
I did not tell her we had met before. Nor will I tell you.
This is the only trickle down effect that the worlds economists will ever find true…
Second hand furniture, car parts and clothes.
Without them, the global economy would be totally full of shit.
Found a guy to help me carry the stuff up to her flat. Would only just fit up stairs and through door. Did not tell the guy I had skinned a knuckle and cut my thumb. He was only helping me, and I was only helping someone else. Did not seem correct to complain about him pushing when he should have been pulling. Even if it did make me wince.
You see, this girl really appreciated this. She probably didn’t even appreciate the couch and chair as much as she appreciated someone doing what they said and not “being full of shit aye bro”.
She looked so fucken grateful.
You can take all your “boundaries” and “ethics” and shove them.
Upon leaving she frowned. I walked back and brushed the frown off with a stroke of a finger on her forehead.
You cannot do that as a registered counsellor or other professional employed in such a capacity without some rather dodgy charges being laid…
For me, it was worth it. Seeing the frown replaced with a smile and a warm goodbye is okay.
My boundaries are declining to tell her my name, flat number or contact details.
I am learning. Has taken a hell of a fuck up or two. But it is am learning. Even evolution.
WHARE a Māori hut or dwelling place
pron far-ee (kind of – you roll the R into an L a little… Far-le…. Sort of.
Have had so much to post about recently, but so little enthusiasm for doing anything. Have cars to fix, flat to tidy, relationships to work on. Building bridges with my daughters Mum.
All this takes a back seat.
It all takes a back seat to life.
Not being able to sleep on Monday night, was out walking aimlessly around the neighbourhood about 3am when there is shouts and screams from a window. Sounds as if a girl has found some rather kinky use for a vacuum cleaner, or similar. I notice some houses across the street turning lights on, and some others opening doors and sticking heads out.
The young lady making all this noise starts screaming things such as ;
I got a squirrel and rammed it up John Keys arsehole so hard he invoked the GSCB
Why am I locked in here you wankers, when I have had my tubes tied?
Ring the cops, you’ll see, I’m not mad, you are. I may be insane, but you’re the mad ones
Etc. Etc. Etc.
She had all the windows wide open, her door wide open, the lights on, the curtains fully pulled back and was introducing the quiet side of the neighbourhood to the reality of her life, as she saw it.
Admittedly, “Reality of her life” being ambiguous in terminology.
There were many, many (upon many of many) onlookers to this situation. Even for this housing block, this was one for the video phones and straight people to hide their children from. Hell, I ain’t even that straight, and I would have hid my kid from it. Jeezus, would I what.
Amongst all this carry on, I turned back towards her and down the street, crossing the road in full view, making a bee-line for her second floor window.
Mutherfuckers can all suck my feet, you hear me mutherfuckers?
(quietly, almost talking volume) Hey – what are you doing out walking mindlessly?
- Me – interrupting
“mindlessly, how dare you….. that would presume I am not of right mind, which would en tale being of left mind. What do you have against me using my left mind?”
Aimlessly? I mean aimlessly…
- Aimless? You want to call me aimless now?……
You look like you could be company, come up for a tea.
- Give me a minute to put my face on. No more shouting until I get there though. Okay (puts finger to lips and shhhh’s)?
Will put jug on…
Twenty or thirty windows close, a few doors shut, you can hear people putting their phones down and returning to slumber.
So, 4am Tuesday morning I am spending two or three hours with a young lady whom is wearing an ankle bracelet, cannot leave house due to being on electronic bail, and her friends are all in town partying. She has drunk all the beer, swallowed all the pills and is still awake. Thankfully for her, she has found a stash of builders glue and is abusing solvents like her life depends on it.
Me, being me, is quite good in these circumstances. Not brilliant, but not bad.
I am not going to ring the police.
I am not going to prevent her from using.
Someone hell bent on their own destruction is someone with a strong will.
Taking on that will would lead to noise complaints.
What I did do was catch her when she fell. Propped her up when crashing. Talked her down from dis-pear. Talked her up from feeling as if she was god.
We sat close staring at each other. Every time she had momentary lapse of concentration I would quickly stand up and “hide” some of the glue by throwing it out the window. Would then close the door an inch or two each time so she would not notice the door shut all of a sudden and feel trapped. She could yell fucken loud this girl. If she thought she was trapped, the neighbours would be woken again. And police would swarm.
She had moments of superb thought and clarity…
Hey, wow… fuck, fuck fuck……
You are… Rehearsed. Oh my god, you’re rehearsed.
Uhm, damn. Almost caught me out there. She would try and shock. Try to get emotional responses from me. But she would remember my eyes always making contact, always being calm, somewhat in control, slowing her down… One day she may remember she had more solvents in the house that magically dissipated too. Hahahahah.
The look on her face after some large chugs of glue… O-M-F’ing-G. That look was becoming to be oh-so-f’ing-attractive.
O-BLIV-E-ON. Oblivion. Fucken A. Let me at it. I want what she’s having. Only make it permanent.
See, I can relate. I can empathise. I can identify.
John Savage would probably try and teach me ethics or boundaries or something equally as pompous. I would teach John Savage to mind his own butt hole and put me on the Queens Honour Lists ahead of John Kirwin. I would teach John harm reduction has no boundaries. John would find this impossible to compute in his ever so right brain.
I left her as dawn rushed up to hit her on the head with a rather large solvent abuse headache.
I left with a bunch of people probably thinking the worst.
I left not giving a flying fuck what anyone thought…
I left proud of the idiot I am.
We are all back seat drivers in our own life.
Pity I am not even in the right car.
Have been onto Hospital grounds many times. This is getting stupid.
I can sit, stand, talk with Police. I can do anything on hospital grounds at all.
Other than one little thing.
As soon as I ask one little question or try discussing a persons lack of care or response they simply tell me to leave as they have called the Police.
The police have yet to turn up mind you.
I have been to a hospital building not specifically listed in the trespass order acting as official advocate for one young lady. They did exactly the same as Blair Bishop and Clarissa Broderick at Addiction (Dis)Services. That is — They followed the Capital Coast District Health Board guidelines…
- Ignore the advocate outright
- If client has properly acknowledged advocate and advocate seems to wanting to engage in a positive manner
- Tell client they must leave
- Tell advocate they must leave
This is the third time now. They tell my client to leave and my client then wants to leave for fear of losing medications or what-have-you.
I am left trespassed from all CCDHB grounds on the basis of writing this blog.