Dairy of how to become a junky ADHD mess…

Anyways…Work it out for yourself…

Was going to ring you earlier but then just went to bed again… Been spending more than the usual amount of time in bed recently. It is the time of year for it – nothing to worry about. Just a little cold and winter bringing onset a wee depression, no doubt.

Promised Mum I would make her a new compost bin as Dad is dying slowly along with the rotted out fence she has been piling compost against for two decades.

Aren’t we all. Dying that is. His clock took on a new rhythm for a while recently… Just to be clear, this was not a old sixties dance hall classic number. More drumb and base poured into a blender with Motorheads final Ace Of Spades renditions…

Went down to Mum n Dads to measure up previously mention compost bin… To be made from wood, with my own hands. Would prefer to cut one from alloy and weld nowadays. Am enjoying my new tools and skills always need sharpening. Tools need sharpening and new skills? Half a dozen of one, six of the other. Some shit anyway…

Told Dad I was being operated on within four weeks of the doctor seeing my bum. Dad, as usual, without fail, without preamble, without thought for anyone outside his one square foot of universe,

“they have always got me in real quick, like the time I showed up with…..”

(sure,
my judgement and memory may be clouded
with time, space and
interesting neurological experiments gone awry
nonetheless, seems like this is a reoccurring theme one cannot discount my memory and feelings as completely inaccurate)

“Dad, they only get you in quick if there’s emergency or something serious” was the somewhat necessary interruption.

Yet still he carried on about HIS operations.. Oblivious to fact, his fiction weighing heavily on the judge and jury of his own mind.

Having actually had more operating table excursions over my fourty years younger span of life, he doesn’t bother to remember anything about my issues, health or happiness. Nor, it seems, going so far as to suggest others problems have been trivial.

When he sees me wince with pain just standing still he says “oh, your back is getting like mine, hahahaha”. Yeah right, like he has had emergency spine surgery and pissed and poo’d himself walking to the hospital… Fuck he is such a self centred fuck…. Unbelievable… This is going to require a breath, a thought of something happy and a lot of self restraint. Would be nice to have that loverly Clarrissa here with some restraints, but she was already booked and tied up elsewhere…

So he tells me all about HIS for the hundredth time in as many visits. Tiresome in itself.

Interruption time again….

Must record one of these conversations. You may, even the most die hard retard apologist among you,  be sympathetic to that at least. He sure ain’t.

“So, you have any idea why they would get to me so quickly?” 

“I presume as they are quiet at the moment and I was seen in that amount of time after a doctor saw my collapsed viens in my……”

WTF? Are you serious? Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuckme, fukme, f’me….. Relaaaaaaaxxxxxx…. He may be just about dead and nothing is going to change the guy now, even if he did think anything about himself and his life was not perfect.

FUCK UP DAD , NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT YOU.

(well, I tried. Honest)

Dad, chastised for once. Not a pretty sight as it happens…
“I never said it was about me”

DAD, EVERYTHING YOU HAVE SAID IS ABOUT YOU. NOT ONE SINGLE GENUINE QUESTION, OR SO MUCH AS EVEN FAKED INTEREST IN WHAT IS GOING ON FOR ME. AM BEING OPERATED ON TUESDAY MORNING JUST FOUR WEEKS AFTER A DOCTOR SAW THE LUMP IN MY BUTT CHEEK DAD. THAT WOULD SUGGEST IT IS IMPORTANT, WOULD IT NOT?

“I don’t know son, they see everyone as fast as they can…”

Remaining the calmest possible, given fourty years of this sort of conversation… Hell, you people reading it are bored of it already. Imagine the effect this has on a kid growing up, or indeed the fourty year old man still trying to grow up…

THE FUCKEN SPECIALIST GUY I AM SEEING AT HOSPITAL IS THE SAME GUY WHO TREATED YOUR DAUGHTER

(funnily enough, also known as my sister, who died of Cancer May7th a few years ago aged less than me)

“Oh yes, he seemed nice… Although your sister argued with him, he knows his stuff. Top guy, really really clever…” …OMG

Really not bothering to remain calm in face of this much narcissistic stupidity DAD, WHY THE FUCK WOULD I BE SEEING THE SAME GUY AS KATE ? WHY WOULD THEY OPERATE ON ME SO QUICK ? WHY AM I BOTHERING TO TELL YOU THIS AT ALL ?

 

“I don’t know Tony, they are a good hospital though…..”

 

Oh for fucksake, if he wasn’t already on the waiting list for the cremation table I would kill this bloody idiot…

DAD, THEY THINK I HAVE FUCKEN CANCER FOR FUCKSAKE. WHY ELSE WOULD I BE SEEING THE FUCKEN CANCER SPECIALIST? THEY *DO NOT* GET YOU INTO OPERATING ROOMS IN THIS BROKE ARSE HEALTH SYSTEM IN FOUR WEEKS FROM FIRST SEEING A DOCTOR WITHOUT IT BEING DEEMED IMPORTANT.


Just in case he managed to avoid the point (as proven, he is quite bloody well capable)

 

THEY THINK I HAVE CANCER DAD. But I don’t. The really really really clever people and their two times through the MRI, the X-Ray, the Ultrasound, the various specialists including a muscular skeletal guy have it wrong.

However, I am going in Monday to sort out the procedure and am in Tuesday to have half the weight of my right arse cheek cut out… Will be good to get the bloody thing out. Even though it’s not cancer, it is annoying me more and more recently…

 

“Oh, why didn’t you tell us?”

 

FUCK ME.

 

Work it out yourself. Seriously.

 

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Woke up today…

Woke up today. A normal thing to be doing. Just currently hate it.

Got up, well, sort of vertical as opposed to horizontal… Struggled to kitchen on this list*. Opened eyes to stare blindly into fridge… Pictures Saw this next to my fridge and, ADHD and DRUG ADDICTION experts will not be surprised, am now writing 700 words into WordPress instead of eating anything in the fridge.

Was stuck some place in November and drew this picture at top using paper stolen out a photocopier and a four colour pen “liberated” from an owner who did not use it (the black was almost empty) at first I only had a blue pen, thanks for the colour!

Also in November my kid must have drawn this picture at bottom (it is a calender, made by her school)… She is 12 now and have not seen her for a year almost, and will not see her, hear from her or get a Christmas or Birthday gift to her. Mum gave me this picture she drew last month.


Nothing to really look forward to.

Struggling to stay at all enthusiastic.

May be going to jail, have been evicted as “owner may want to sell”, have no where to go and have really run out of energy…… Just too much on my plate to deal with… am not coping…

Drugs and jail seem like good options when you have nothing to look forward to other than debt and stress. FRUSTRATION and being POWERLESS has lead me to be angry.

These arms are not self harm in the sense of the term.armsThey are, however, the result of hitting large windows without fear of hurting myself. This is not really self harm. No, really. It isn’t. Seriously. Fuck. Whatever… All you people with psych training can just piss right off…..

Am very lucky to be okay other than having bad bruising around ligaments and not being able to use right hand for anything without severe pain in the wrist and forearm…

Am very lucky the flying glass did not hurt anyone else too badly.

Am very very lucky these people are still talking with me….

At least via social media chat! Spent five hours from midnight on chat with the lady whom owns these windows. Guess we won’t be seeing much of each other in real life any longer. Totally fair. Cannot blame her for that. I agree. 

For she now looks at me like I am some violent criminal. God knows the Police and the local town gossip already have me fucked, but she was one who didn’t fall for their shit. She believed in me, but everything got too much. 

It is only a window.

But it is a loss far greater. 

 

Am struggling to stay on track as some people are worth staying on track for. For they have struggled too, and they care about others too. They care more about me then I seem to care for myself.

Thankful for some good friends in Wellington. Gave me money to make it home, and let me sleep off and on all day whilst they quietly stepped over me. Absolutely brilliant. I was holding back a flood of tears as he walked to my car to make sure it started at I was safely driving. My good friend from the coffee shoppe whom I care about greatly has been simply brilliant. Sure, I nag him and drag him outside his comfort zone and do all these things for him against his wishes.

He has stood by me no matter how annoying my life is for him. 

Am learning to care for myself, but still care for others first…

  • Some have headaches constantly, mine come and go.
  • Some have screwed up so badly, they don’t care and really fuck people over. I still care, just.
  • Some are content doing nothing. Am far from content, but appear to be doing nothing.

 

So, woke up today. Kind of wish I didn’t.

Coffee,
food,
a quick hug
from one of my chickens
may fix that.

For a time.


 

*LIST – noun

  1. a careening, or leaning to one side, as of a ship.

    verb
    (used without object)
  2. (of a ship or boat) to incline to one side; careen:
    The ship listed to starboard.

    verb
    (used with object)
  3. to cause (a vessel) to incline to one side:
    The shifting of the cargo listed the ship to port.
Origin 1620-30; origin uncertain
Synonyms 2, 3. tilt, slant, heel.

 

October 8th, awesome day, but 9th totally fucked me.

Having just wrote four hundred words on cellphone and WordPress lost it all, I am simply going to sum up… My best mate and beauty girl has to go. Used needles, so upsetting behavior.  Awake twenty hours, splitting headache, roosters crowing and I want sleep. Am not heartbroken, am truly shattered and just needing to get this yarn out. No matter how embarrassed I will be later, fuck you all. The cellphone screen is a blurry haze and my pathetic attempts at oblivion came to nothing, as they always have.

25 years of trying to destroy yourself, you think you’d have it sussed by now…

My young friend is awesome. Her future could be so great. She cares, she took me to family court, she is beautiful inside and out.

But she is complicated and dealing with addiction and mental health issues. She is also capable of some ruthless violence. I love her, admittedly.

Have tried, truly. We have had such a brilliant two days, and then seriously almost killed eachother. We faced up in public area. I admit that sometimes I see exactly what I am going to do, and it was not pretty. She had already managed to not cut me up or rearrange my skull, I could see that. But half an hour went by and she was still so shitty she was holding back from attacking me. She pissed me off so much I saw myself doing some stuff that I needed not to do. She has never seen me angry and not giving a fuck. It may surprise her. We were so close to seriously hurting eachother. I had already decided which bit of concrete her head would break on, but outwardly I was calm. I talked and joked with staff at the premises, I stole her cellphone from her lap as she went to drive off without my tools and bags. She refrained from whatever grizzly and horrid things she had planned. Even though we sat within hitting distance (oops, that was me. She kept moving away, although she was main aggressor, odd she was so keen to be violent yet stayed away..)

And, then an hour and she was still not talking and driving and stopping at gas station for hour without saying anything.

Another half hour of this driving down the motorway and I opened the door to get out. She stopped me by grabbing me, I think. No way was I allowed out.

Why would someone who wants me gone, stop me from leaving ?

Why is this crazily beautifully hearted young lady so willing to dismember me. Why aren’t I scared in the least of her? What hell will ensue if we both are bad at same times?

fuck. it is BaD enough without broken bones and blood. We would both give a decent job at that.

Fuck this. It will be jail. She cares, but everything is about her. Sometimes the world is not all about you. Hate to burst your lovely little 20year old haze of bubble.

She is lovely.

Yet I need her out my life right now.

Condemning myself to knowing no one in the area and financial and vehicle stress is not a nice thing.

She’s my best mate

And my most dangerous addiction.

I have to make her Not My Problem.

Am sorry and sad. After such a brilliant 40 hours, her Mum came out when we drove up to make sure we didn’t fight. I love this little scrawny LEGS girl.

I tried. I moved from Wellington for less drama and for a good friend. Looks like failed on both.

For I went and stuck a needle in my arm. I was crying and confused by my young friend. I was angry. I had been to family court and they treat me like shit. She was there, looking stunning in her jeans that are more see through lace than jeans.

Fucked if I know why she is my friend.

Or was my friend. For I did not her in that capacity for a while. Now it’s really fucked.  Wish she would let me, or others, help. I care and we can compliment eachother. We can
complicate eachother.

.

Almost killing your lovely LEGS best mate and most trusted secret keeper is not the path I want to be on.

90Percent of her is great. 10Percent leads me to smoking, needles and jail.

Can’t risk it any more. I loved some of the times together, and care for her and her problems more than she will allow me to help with.

She opens up to me like no one else, she claims.

But this old ugly man is closing the doors and locking them.

She has to be let go. But I am the one taking the fall. Sad. But house is rented to me. She has heaps of friends and family here. She should be fine.

Sent my only friend a message saying we can only spend five minutes a time with eachother and asked why she decided to care and look after and be my most trusted friend.

Got no reply.

Really sad, and not like me  but
NOT MY PROBLEM

I gotta stay out of jail, rescue some financial crisis and stay off drugs

I understand her past. She has good reason to be the way she is.

But can only grab what is in front of you by dropping whats in your hands…

Love you Legsies, good luck. Wish my friend will come back someday.

Aroha Nui girl…..

Time for this old worn out acne prone cripple to find some new friends.

But, no doubt, they will all be screwballs too

Recently I have been in jail

I have been in jail for a short while, true.

Would love to have enough energy for the bother of converting the badly hand written dairy entries into something worthy of posting on this, the worlds shittest blog.

No energy can be spared. As I type this nearing 1am, the one eye is shut. The other thinks it saw a mouse scurry around the skirting. It may have. It may not have. There is little food in the house, so if  there was a mouse, who cares? There are large stabs from the dull knife of mental pain.

The brain does not differentiate from physical pain and mental pain awfully well. Thankfully there is more than enough of both that the borders between the two are blurred. More than blurred – the effect where the cold southern ocean and the warm waters from equatorial pacific conjoin in a lovers embrace more sums up my existence within my 182cm, 81kg frame.

Jail is full of characters. Some very intelligent people whom are waiting trail for murdering some idiot.

One guy whom represented his country at war (a few steps above FIFA under twenty ALL WHITES for commitment) has a bullet wound or two. His two mates got killed each side of him. He was found unconscious by an American patrol. He had pulled his side arm and killed two people whom were intent on finishing him off. He came home to good old John Key’s New Zealand and ACC was too hard to deal with. WINZ weren’t helpful once he was out of hospital. His Dad died. His shot leg and head injuries cause a bit of issue. The shrapnel thrown off by the grenade that cost one friend the entire left side of his brain, skull and upper torso is throughout his body. He is in jail for robbing TV’s, stereos and jewellery from richer people than he. Some of them probably know John Key. Some of them definitely would know (or were) Military brass types. 

I have the book rights. Thankfully for the world when you leave me in a cell with two or three people for an hour they will talk to me about PTSD, ADHD, DYSLEXIA, PSYCHOPATHY and, arguably, worse than the whole lot – ISSUES WITH THE MISSUS AND KIDS.

Addiction, mental health, bad luck….. To study inmates and their issues you really need to be an inmate. I have crazy stupid tattoo’s. I have few teeth. I have just enough intelligence to keep up with the clever and encourage the not quite so. Just like running the Mental Health unit Narcotics Anonymous meeting, I can not only empathise, but identify with these people and their plights.

There are some real stories there. Stories your average reporter would not find. Links between being locked up and your ex partner seeing you with a hotter young lady are obvious. But when you have been split up for ten years the Courts will laugh it this. I believe it. For I have had one or two myself.

deadbeat

 

After spending six weeks in jail throughout May and early June, I am sorry to report staggering examples of Police ruining peoples chances at life by spreading information unlawfully.

It could be considered worse than unlawful, for it is criminal.

 
 
 
 
FRIDAY, APRIL 10th.

 
After being told there was “no warrant to arrest” on a charge in the District Court I went home with my 11 year old daughter. 
 
One hour later the police arrived, arrested me in front of my daughter and told me that we would be half an hour whilst they filled out paperwork. I left daughter with a friend. As soon as I was in their car they told me I would be there overnight as the court had shut for the day although it was 1pm….
 
Against my express wishes they rung my daughters mother and told her all about me being in trouble and being arrested. I specifically told them that they had no right to tell someone else about my arrest and that my daughter had her own phone, knew how to contact her mother, grandma and other people.
 
They went on to furnish their story stating that I had left my child in the care of someone they considered untrustworthy. My daughter has stayed with these people before, and has slept overnight there with the couples daughter whom is only a month or two older.
 
The mother of my daughter picked our daughter up at 8pm, which shows she was unconcerned about any threat to our child. 
 
The police also tried to ring her new partner at work and tell him about it. Although he has never met me properly and has no say in the day to day care of myself our my child, the Police exaggerated the circumstances and generally made the situation into something it should not be. 
 
I was released the next morning about 10am and the mother of my daughter was obviously not in the least happy.
 
 
 
TUESDAY, APRIL 28th.
 
For the first time ever my kids Mum and her partner came to football training. I am the football team coach, and have been for two years with three different teams. 
 
My child’s mother took our daughter early and was perceived to be looking for trouble by other parents. Subsequently to this, the mother of my daughter punched me five times in front of many witnesses.
I carried on playing football with the children and tried to handle the situation. Her new partner rung police after he pushed me and had decided that I was assaulting his new partner. She stands at the side of the field and shouts abuse, including that I am a paedophile and should not be allowed around children. 
 
 

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 29th

 
I presented at Wellington Central Police station to tell them about the mother of my daughter hitting me five times in front of the child’s football team and parents at football training. Officer {**18} told me directly that “you (I) are full of shit and that matter has already been dealt with“. 
 
I recorded the conversation from that point on. The matter already “being dealt with” was basically them trying to find a way to stuff me with something. The facts are that I was assaulted by two people in front of fifteen children and many parents during our football team training.
 
 
 
FRIDAY, MAY 1st


Police came to my house in some numbers and charged me with assault by way of issuing a paperwork summons to appear in court. Why they needed so many officers and why they acted so aggressively is obvious – They were trying to get me angry and acting badly so there would be a proper excuse for another arrest and charge – resisting, disorderly behaviours or similar. 

After being charged with assault they rang the football club I was coaching for and told them that under no circumstances should I be allowed to coach football. I do not know what is being said, by whom. I do know that the football club is run by two ex Navy accountant types whom are probably good friends with the higher up Police… Maybe they all sit down at the Wellesley together and discuss issues. Maybe I was worthy of thirty seconds of their time as they nudge nudged and guffawed…

 
EMAIL FROM “L”TO ME, 3rd June 2015…
 
“””Dear NZFIEND
I am writing to you with regard to your role as a volunteer coach for the Grade 11 _________________ AFC.
In my role as Chairman of the club I have received communications from Capital Football and the NZ Police that I am now burdened with acting upon. The advice I have received is that the club should not employ you in a volunteer role as a junior coach. While I am not in receipt of detail as to specific circumstances it is incumbent upon me to heed this advice because regardless of any possible militating factors the club cannot take any risk in regard to the way it manages pastoral care for junior members through volunteers.
As a result it is with regret that I must now let you know that your volunteer coaching role must end, effective immediately. I understand that the coaching you have carried out for the club has been enjoyed by the children in the teams with which you have been associated, and I thank you for the contribution you have made.
Regards
LS – CEO of the AFC“””
 
 

I have asked three times in writing for information regarding WHO rung the club and WHAT was said, but have not even received an acknowledgement of my request. I guess this is what you should expect from a bunch of high ranking military people and police.

If I am accused of being a paedophile or a danger to children, I WANT TO KNOW! I now have to use official information act and / or privacy act requests to find out what is being said, and whom is saying it.

Louis appears to have secret discussions with police…At the time of my ex partner getting ME arrested for assault, I sent her some text messages and commented on some of her Facebook photos with what I thought of her partner pushing me, trying to get me to fight him, and then ringing police when I didn’t take the bait.

 
 
 
SATURDAY, MAY 2nd 
 
The police sent me texts and phone calls saying they want to speak to me at odd hours like 6am. I replied by text and voice call to a voicemail asking them why they wished to see me again. Also, quite clearly, I asked if it was urgent and what they wanted. They said “come in and see us urgently” but would not explain why. I declined to take up their nice offer as I had a football team to run and was due in Porirua at 8.30am. Last time they told me I would only be an hour “at the most” I was kept overnight and my daughter is now very perturbed when she see’s police. My daughter also jumps when there is a knock on the door and is worried the Police are coming to take Dad away. Anyway – Our team played well and we got a 3-3 draw. The best result the team has had, ever.
 
 
 
MONDAY, MAY 4th
 
Police have been coming to my house every few hours throughout the weekend and the neighbours have been interviewed and are getting annoyed by Police waking them up by kicking on my door. I have been elsewhere. Being happy and entertaining.
 
At approximately 8pm I am walking home and see a Police car drive past me a few times and park half a block from my house. I got the shop, buy some things and walk out as the car drives off again
 

At 9pm I received a text from a member of the football club saying that my daughter will not be part of the team any further as her Mum is taking her out of the team and not allowing me to see her. I send a text to my childs Mum…

4 May 21:31
Idiot.
Let ***** [our daughter] play football, she loves it.
About time you started doing what was right for the whole family we have, not just yourself.
You need to talk, but you ran across a field screaming like a stupid crazed animal and punched me 6 times.
You are stupidly carrying on [like] this.
 – direct copy of txt from cellphone
 

The neighbours come out to tell me the Police were there again. At approximately 9:35 pm I am talking to a lady police officer on the telephone whom says “MAN UP AND FACE THE CHARGES.” What charges? What are you on about? “BREACH OF PROTECTION ORDERS”

TUESDAY, MAY 5th


So, in the Police station, we have a video interview at 1am. I have been awake quite a lot with worry about the situation with my child and also have spent a couple of nights in others beds, so I am worn out and very tired. 
 
It comes as a surprise when I am kept in a court cell for the whole morning waiting for my appearance. I stand in the dock and find the Police are objecting to bail and want me in custody. I have not properly at all (the police have no pillows and since my clothing had string in it around the hood of the “hoody” top, they had removed those – it was cold, there is no bedding other than a cover that extends from feet to belly button. I was due to be at football training at 3:30pm and that is something to b taken very seriously. Letting down a bunch of kids – some of whom come straight from school so would be their unsupervised – by having their coach abandon them is a bloody serious thing.
 
The “Public Defendants Office” Lawyer told me that there is no way I could bail today and that “in these situations we keep you in for three or four days and let things cool off and then you will get bail on Friday.” She repeated this later with “Tony, we simply have you on a cool off period for a few days and then you will be bailed. Just do not apply for bail today.” I was charged with 5 BREACH OF PROTECTION ORDERS for sending some five text messages after she punched me repeatedly with children (including our own child) watching. The protection order has been in place 13 years. If I had so much as raised my voice at this person during 13 years I would have been charged with a breach already, yet Police claim in court I have been threatening and abusing and repeatedly and consistently disrupting the lives of my daughter and her mothers new family. One of these offences is the above text message, which is claimed to be ranting, abusive and threatening.
 
I told her I did not want her “legal” advice and represented myself. Bail was denied, even though the judge made many errors including deciding that I had committed “male assaults female” against the mother of my daughter last year. I have never, once, assaulted the mother of my daughter. Full stop.


The Police have lied the whole way through in order to keep me in jail. I was going to write exaggerated, as there are plenty of examples of that. But actual lies sum it up better…

The Police state that I knew they were searching for me, that I was actively running from them and they had to catch me. They state, in court documents, that I was actively hiding and taunting Police. I was, according to them, abusive to officers and was showing off that they could not catch me.. However, I had rung police every single day for four days and they would not tell me why they wanted me. I have told them about being assaulted and I thought that they may be serving me with Family Court papers. They finally told me what they wanted (breach of protection order for texting) and I told them to come and pick me up. In the end I had to jump out in front of the car and flag it down as they were driving straight past me. Yet the judge heard I was “evading and taunting police”.

I have recorded all these telephone conversations with Police and kept all text records.

 
I was sent to Rimutaka prison with a new court date for Friday 8th.
 
 
 
FRIDAY, MAY8th
I had stolen a black ballpoint pen and got a nice guard to give me a bit of paper from one of the computer printers and drew a picture. It shows my hand and my demons being pulled out of the mire by my daughters hand. Although, you can turn the picture upside down and see that me and my past demons and lifestyle are trying to help her out of some pain and difficulties. Call it a mental health exercise…
P119
 


After spending all day in a small cell out the back of Court1, Wellington District Court, I finally appeared at around 4pm. The Police were serious on keeping me in custody. The lawyer, KEITH JEFFERIES, proved to be the worst lawyer I have ever met. He did not come to see me with regards to the matter even though Police had given me new paperwork and what have you. He therefore stood up and even the Police prosecutor said “Keith is probably not aware, but here is the latest stuff….”
I tried to enter a GUILTY PLEA to sending text messages so that they would have no further reason to hold me in custody.
 
The Judge said that I needed time to consult and instruct a real lawyer and remanded me in Custody until JUNE 25th for this to happen.
 
About this point in time I realised my football coaching was over and that there was little hope of being a proper father to my child for a long time. My rent and bills were starting to worry me and I stood to lose my flat, its contents and my car parked in the off street parking that comes with the rental. 
 
 
 
TUESDAY, JUNE 11th
 
Other inmates told me I should go for “e-bail” and I had filled the paperwork out. 
 

The Police opposed my release from jail (even though I am 24/7 on ankle bracelet locked in my flat) as they claim the victims are so scared. These are the same people whom attacked me in the first instance. There was no fear shown there.

The Police also opposed my release on the grounds I would destroy cell phone evidence. Vodafone, 2Degrees and Spark could all track the texts if they were asked. Also, the texts would still be on the phone I sent them to. The Police wanted me to hand them my phone. I need my phone for evidence. It has recordings of the Police lying to me. It has recordings of the mother of my daughter screaming at me telling me I would never see my daughter again. She claims I would ring her and be threatening, ranting, screaming and abusive. These calls are all recorded and I have told the Police this. They constantly tell the Court that I am a threat to the safety of others based on the “facts” that I am so abusive and threatening on the phone and texts.
 
I was led into court room 1 (directly from the back of a Corrections Department prisoner transport van) just as the Judge was reading out conditions of my release. They include 24/7 home detention. My lawyer had rung or talked to me, as he had promised, and had therefore not put forward the fact I live by myself in a housing block. He had not put forward the best case for my release at all and had not read the file, nor the handwritten notes I had sent regarding the perceived threat and safety of the text message victims. There is no provision in my bail for me to leave the house to get shopping. If I leave the house I will go straight back to Rimutaka jail. To go to doctors, hospital or other appointments I need 24 notice. I am wearing a GPS ankle bracelet.
 
At least I still have a house. There was paperwork taking me to the tenancy tribunal over unpaid rent, but that is now okay. I am not allowed to the carpark where my car is in order to clean it out or move it as it has been sitting across two car parks since my arrest.
 
I needed to get out of jail as I have hand written fifty pages of rebuttal of allegations submitted to the Family Court which removes my parenting order and denies me all contact with my 11 year old daughter. I need to type these up, collect evidence from my phone (including all texts and voice recordings) and convince the Corrections Electronic Monitor Bail “TEAM” that I need to go into town, print out court paperwork, find a J.P or someone who can witness and sign the stuff, and then present it all to the court in Balance St. 
 
The Police would not lay charges against the lady whom stabbed my tyres and destroyed my car as “she said she was elsewhere” even though three neighbours provided excellent descriptions of her and her friend. The Police showed up with a page of photos of girls, all of whom was so similar to the offender that none of the witnesses could positively I.D them. The Police have denied my requests to view and copy the I.D parade they provided. I doubt  it even had a photo of the real offenders on it. So, they tell me their case “does not reach evidential standard” on a number of issues.
…..

Until all of this happened I was seeing my daughter, was being as good father as I was allowed to be. We had a Family Court Order that intended we work together and move forward by ourselves after ten years of bickering. It had taken me a year and a half to go from every second weekend with my daughter to having Tuesday nights as well as every second weekend. Whenever the mother of daughter felt like it, she would take away this Tuesday night as “I only gave it as a good will gesture”. What effect does this have on our daughter? What effect does all of this have on me?

 

DEAD BEAT DAD’s have something going for them…

They get to keep a tenuous link to reality.  

Even if they are in Australia,
not seeing their children
&
hiding from the NZ tax man.

Talking publicly may help. Other ways probably not so much…

Mr. Boulware was also involved in a custody battle with his mother over his 11-year-old son. A hearing was held last Monday. Ms. Hammond said in court documents that in the fall of 2012, Mr. Boulware “talked obsessively” about the mass shootings at the movie theater in Aurora, Colo., and at the elementary school in Newtown, Conn. “He claimed,” she wrote in court papers, “he had known about them beforehand because he had dreamed about them.” She also stated that he bought two new guns in 2013 and “began talking about getting rid of people he didn’t like.” NEW YORK TIMES <- click here….


That bloody mouse was real. Has taken twenty five minutes for my cloudy head to compile this post… The mouse, I feel, is laughing at me. Having sauntered across the side of my vision heading into my bedroom, it has had it’s fill of whatever mouse culinary delights abound within and jogged back, converting whatever protein it found into pure lean muscle mouse.

penfold

THERE IS SO MUCH TO SAY – HEROIN & MENTAL HEALTH

Heroin & Mental Healthneedles
Learning The Difference Between Causation And Correlation

post written by Anne Martlew

The issue of heroin use and mental health problems is a vexed one. The psychiatric community is divided over whether heroin abuse causes mental illness, or vice versa. All are agreed that heroin use is A Very Bad Thing, and all are deeply fond of the idea that heroin use and mental illness are co-morbid, but none are entirely sure of the precise relationship between the two. Many psychologists appear to believe that heroin abuse can both cause and be caused by mental illness. This allows the label ‘mentally ill’ to be applied to people at both ends of the equation. The problems arise when the authorities are presented with a patient who shows no signs of present or past mental illness (other than their addictive disorder). Such people are puzzling to rehab specialists, and present the world of established addiction psychology with a troubling quandary.

> Cause Or Catalyst?

Like alcohol, heroin and other opioids are likely to exacerbate the symptoms of any mental health issues you are currently experiencing. Any heroin forum will quickly tell you that your state of mind when shooting up makes a huge difference to the experience you get from the drug. As there is no such thing as ‘absolute normal’, and we all have our little quirks, it is easy for people to present as ‘mentally ill’ while high due to the exaggeration of these quirks and the loss of inhibitions. The same is true of drunk people, yet we are not nearly so swift to categorize everyone who’s had one too many as an asylum-case. Some scientists also believe that prolonged opioid abuse can affect one’s neurological makeup, rendering heroin use a cause of mental illness rather than just a symptomatic catalyst. Increasingly, the medical community is beginning to focus on the idea that heroin abuse can both cause and exacerbate mental illness. This is a convenient idea. It’s one-size-fits-all, and it makes it much easier to apply labels to addicted patients.

> Convenient Labels

Of course, if someone has a pre-existing psychosis and a correspondingly flawed sense of judgement then they MAY be more likely to seek out mood-altering drugs than someone of a more ‘stable’ mind-frame. In such situations, mental illness could be said to be a factor within heroin abuse. It’s not unknown for heroin users suffering from psychoses to report that their more personally traumatic symptoms feel lessened while high – although they may return with a vengeance during withdrawal. But, of course, anyone suffers intensely during withdrawal. It’s very easy for a psychologist to look at the mental contortions one goes through while withdrawing and pick out any number of psychotic symptoms, which can be either retrospectively applied as a ‘pre-existing condition’ or described as issues caused by heroin. The problems really begin when a patient turns up who presents with no symptoms of mental illness. This is a problem for the medical community. Such people are much harder to label, and our current roster of treatments depends very much upon labelling people and then applying the treatment relevant to that label. Patients are rarely looked at as individuals beyond the process of trying to fit them into a treatment box. When someone turns up without an obvious neurosis or psychosis, then the authorities try instead to classify them as having a social or traumatic disorder. This is arguably a waste of time.

> Social Determinants

It’s definitely a good idea to tackle the social determinants of opioid use, but this should really be done at the source rather than after the event. Removing the supply and challenging the kind of conditions which cause some vulnerable people to turn to drugs would make a huge difference. But the authorities should also acknowledge that doing heroin is fun, and some people simply do it because they enjoy it. Bad for you, sure. Bad for society, definitely. But still fun. It’s all too easy for psychiatrists to concentrate too hard on constructing a mental illness or a sob-story for each patient and fail to recognize the fact that getting high is enjoyable, and enjoyment is a powerful motivational force. This all too often leads to them failing the patient, as they’re trying to treat a fabricated illness or trauma rather than help them to get clean and stay clean. While it may well be true that certain external factors like mental illness and social conditioning can make one more vulnerable to opioid abuse, if we try too hard to put people into the ‘mad’ or ‘traumatized’ boxes then we will never get to the real root of the problem. Doing opioids is fun, and it makes you feel good. Whether or not it makes you mad or bad is a secondary issue which should be treated as and when it arises, not as the rehab be-all-and-end-all. If we’re really going to get anywhere with tackling the problem of opioid abuse, we need to stop worrying so much about causation or correlation, and acknowledge that some people shoot up simply because they enjoy it. How we deal with that motivation is another issue – but it’s certainly something which needs to be acknowledged rather than brushed under the carpet.

Fiends Withdrawal Tales is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.

I, NZFiend, have a lot to say. So much so that people constantly accuse me of pushing my own barrow. Gladly, there are people in the world without their own barrows that they perceive to clash with mine…
>ANNE,
>so terribly sorry that I missed your email entirely. OF COURSE I WOULD LOVE FOR YOU TO DO ANYTHING YOU ARE IN THE MOOD TO WRITE!
>
>You can mention whatever you like, just be advised that non-de-plumes are entirely acceptable (and a pretty good idea in general!) 😉
>
>Even if you have written something AGAINST the general view of my writing, I will gladly post it here. Just to let you know, I am not all fire, brimstone, regression, annoyance and cheek. A few of my pieces have been picked up by other mental health and government sites if I would re-write them without any swearing or over the top parody. Of course, this would mean severe editing and re-writing. Things of which nature are allergic to me.
>
>Thank you for writing. It is always surprising and, admittedly, a little gratifying when a stranger takes the time to contact me regarding this wordpress blog… THANK YOU. Am in a little bit of a twisted undies situation right now and… Well… A few new emails really has cheered me and given me some hope. Thank you.

A little about me…
I worked in business management in the healthcare industry after studying literature.
On becoming a mother, I took a step back and decided to indulge my love of writing.
Since then I’ve written on a wide variety of subjects.

post written by Anne Martlew

Patience, not my favourite pathology

image

Waiting at Wellington Central #nzpolice for thirty minutes thus far. Am here to report an assault committed against me.

Unfortunately the mother of my daughter has decided to remove all access to my kid again. I should have had my kid last night. I would have been doing paper run with her.

But the mother has all the power and makes all the rules. She gives and takes as she likes.

Last night was great. An hour into football soccer training with ten kids aged ten or eleven, my daughters Mum and her partner (let us call him plank, or timber or some shit as he is a builder) went to take my daughter away early.

More in a minute, police here 

EMAIL from a blog reader… And ball kids at pro footy game…

wpid-img_20141120_101621.jpg

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 AREHAPPIER“.

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.

ASSHOLES.

All these stories just don’t stop.
Yet, I am the only one attempting to bring them to you?

Phoenix Wellington Football Soccer

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.

death

…………….

repco

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…

Triggers.

Better off staying at home feeling like the world sucks.

For it does.