The Disgust Within

The Disgust Within

Last month, I realized I am not me any more a persistent unhappiness has tainted my perspective on life. I cannot sleep, eat, I do not take walks with my dogs,  worse, I have no desire to create.  Lost are the words to comfort me, to rid myself of this intense feeling of irritability.  When thoughts of suicide entered my mind, I panicked, I called the psychiatrist and left a message to call back, but days went by with no word.

Over those days, I battled a stranger within and withdrew from social media. I drank a lot of beer while viewing videos on YouTube about the End of Days, the New World Order, FEMA Camps, and Walmart’s conspiracy to kill millions of people. I was wrong to think things could not get worse.

September 3rd, around 9:00 p.m. the psychiatrist called. He said that he had been ill and had just got my message. I told him how I could not sleep, that I was too anxious, with exhaustion in my voice I said, ” I just want to go home” There must be a prescription that would help me to sleep, something stronger than the Clonazepam I have been using to help settle my anxiety. The psychiatrist answered with an opinion, he said that I needed hospitalization, at which time I said, “No, never mind, I will handle this myself. ” I then ended our conversation.

The stranger inside was not going to take my sanity, I still had the will to fight.  I have battled mental illness for over four decades. These intrusive thoughts of suicide are just thoughts that can be kept at bay with visions of my daughter and consideration of her emotions. I was committed that Suicide, no matter how appealing, was not an option.

Suicide was not an option at that moment, but what occurred in the hors that followed was devastating and traumatic. I  am ashamed that anyone should know, but my unhappiness is compounded by profound emotions of disgust. I cannot stop replaying the images and shutter with each one.

A policewoman was at my front door shortly after I ended the call with the psychiatrist. She said the doctor had asked for a well-check. I told her although I felt miserable I had no intention of harming myself.  The policewoman said there was medication I could get if I was to go with her and speak with someone from mental health. I agreed to go with her and speak with this person. She drove me to a facility that once inside I was not free to leave. I was tricked to leave my home and a hold was placed on me with the intention of hospitalization without my having any say.

An ambulance came to transport me to the medical hospital for clearance before admittance to the Mental Hospital.  When we reached the hospital a nurse in the ER led me to a room and asked for my clothing. I complied and put on the gown provided. Perhaps an hour has passed before the nurse returned. She said a urine sample was needed and handed me a sample cup. I placed it on a chair in the room stating I did not need to go right then. Another hour or so passed when a doctor and a nurse came into the room the nurse wanted a blood sample. The doctor listened to my heart, did a quick once-over, and left the room, the nurse drew some blood and also left the room.

I did not want to lay on the bed, so I stood near the back of the room. After several hours, I used the restroom forgetting about the urine sample. When I returned to the room the nurse came in asking for the sample. I said I was sorry, but I had forgotten and just used the restroom. Her reaction caught me off guard, she was furious and with sarcasm, she said she would use a catheter to get a urine sample. Backing up into the corner of the room I said, “I don’t think so, you are not going to violate my body.” Without looking at me, she said she could and that I had no choice in the matter. I asked for water and why could she not wait fifteen minutes, but she did not respond.

I became furious and impulsively knocked over metal shelving that held supplies. She came back with two male nurses and asked them to restrain me on the bed. Once told to get on the bed I did allow the nurses to tie my wrists to the bed railing. The three nurses left the room but shortly returned with two additional nurses one who was male the nurse had a catheter in her hand. two male nurses moved to the head of the bed. One held my head down over the bed the other held my torso down. The nurse pulled off my underwear as I tried to keep my legs closed, the other two nurses were prying my legs apart. I was screaming in terror, pleading with them to stop. Unable to move against the force they used to hold me down. I was frantic and hyperventilating, screaming you cannot do this.

With my legs spread eagle, I felt the catheter inserted. The nurse started pushing down on my abdomen as no urine was coming out. I was whaling for God to help me. Finally, she finished and put my underwear back on, but left them midway.  They left as I uncontrollably cried repeating the words, Oh, my God. A nurse came in after about fifteen minutes and told me I was making too much noise and bothering those who were there with real medical problems.

I still feel disgusted and humiliated, powerless to prevent what had happened. I cannot even write this without tears and I feel that disgust that is alive in my psyche. The nurses raped me with a catheter and I cannot move forward. After three days, I finally did sleep, but I had a nightmare the theme was what happened in the Emergency Room. Now I fear to sleep and have not slept most nights since. I did call and file a complaint, the manager told me she would get back with me, but she did not follow through. I called again and left a message, but she did not respond.

When I returned to the facility around noon the next day, I was released to go home. The entire event has left me traumatized and was for not. My unhappiness has deepened to where I do not want to leave the house, I feel vulnerable in the shower and hurry so I can put my clothes back on. What they accomplished at the ER was to turn my unhappiness into a deep depression, the kind that one questions for what purpose is there to remain alive? I now hate my life more than I hate this city.

What they accomplished at the ER was to turn my unhappiness into a deep depression, the kind that leads one to question for what purpose is there to remain alive? I now hate my life more than I hate this city. I never felt such disgust as I do when my thoughts, as they mostly have, return to that night, to that room, and to those nurses; the feeling is  sickening.

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The Silence in an Empty Life

The Silence in an Empty Life
“Can’t stop these feet from sinking and it’s starting to show on me. You’re staring while I’m blinking but just don’t tell me what you see. I’m so over all this bad luck, hearing one more keep your head up, is it ever gonna change? So, let me just give up, let me just let go if this isn’t good for me, well I don’t wanna know. Let me just stop trying let me just stop fighting I don’t want your good advice or reasons why I’m alright you don’t know what it’s like, you don’t know what it’s like.” ~Katelyn Tarver
I am tired and yet I do not sleep for fear of dreaming.  I complain it is too quiet and yet I cannot tolerate noise. With all my strength, I did my best to accept that I have no choice but to live here. Obsessing with regret every choice I have made fills me with hatred for this pathetic city.  The inherent beauty once I found in my hometown of  Santa Barbara in contrast to this disgusting, filthy place is heartbreaking. Against the advice of the police, I venture out with my dogs at dusk not caring if I get assaulted or murdered.
 I have tired of crying for the animals that suffer at the hand of psychopaths around the world. Two years of exposing myself to these horrors and doing everything I could has been for not. I am tired of pretending everything is alright, in fact, I hate happy people.
January of this year my car insurance increased by $54 at the same time the Social Security Disability Department sent me a letter that read I would have to start paying $134.  for Medicare. I have struggled to make ends meet since and at this point I owe the Opthomologist too much money to be seen and the same goes for Quest Diagnostic the place I am sent for blood tests.  When I was taken to the emergency room it was found my thyroid hormone levels were dangerously low. I cannot keep my appointment with the endocrinologist because I cannot get my blood drawn to check the levels. Unbelievable, that I was earning nearly 40k a year and now I am expected to live on 19k, well I cannot. I want my life back, I want to go home, I want what was stolen from me by the unethical Santa Barbara Public Defender Kim Craig Williamson may G-d strike him dead.
Everything appears old, sounds old, tastes old, is old. I want out and I do not care about anyone who cares, they do not know what it is like, they do not know.  Weighing in at 102 pounds should suggest something is amiss and yet silence is the response of my doctor as if losing 54 pounds without dieting is a good thing. I have said that I am always alone but never lonely and I wonder, in the silence of this empty life, if I was lying to myself.

 

To Feel What Is

To Feel What Is

Ever since I can remember they said that I am too sensitive. Emotional reactions to images of suffering are painfully intense and long-lasting.  Likewise, joyful events such as weddings or the birth of a newborn will cause outward tears while inward I am experiencing deep un-named emotions that are beyond expectation.

Unfortunately, there are times I have embarrassed myself because I cannot predict nor control my response to what may come. Consequently, I have concluded Earth is a place of purgatory. Where the abundance of images of animal cruelty, starving children, grieving parents, refugees huddled together leave me in a perpetual state of trauma. The daily realization that I cannot end something so pervasive as the evil that is inherent to humanity fills me with hopelessness.

Within my fractured mind were chaotic emotions that became small particles of nothingness. The heaviness of spirit became weightless and buoyant as if I returned to the warmth of my mother’s womb. Purposely, I surrendered my dreams to float in the shifting winds without the care of a destination. My only remaining thought is that they should never come down.

Outside of Human Nature

Outside of Human Nature

Born in my soul is a furious demanding that no rational reasoning has yet to diminish. Across seas on the shores of foreign borders is an abomination that, in real time, fractures my belief in the goodness of humanity.

The imputable acts of torture and the willful cause of abject suffering as standard practice in the Dog Meat Trade is the depravity inherent to societies run by psychopaths who cannot perceive what is outside of human nature and determine what is morally corrupt.

Uncountable numbers residing in uncountable nations constitute the forces of compassion and empathy that will fight for the innocent who are ill-fated in this vile trade. Many nights in the quietness, I make a futile attempt to find the rationale in the absoluteness of misery.  As usual, I only find myself in tears.

The contentious brutality in the Dog and Cat Meat Trade is like the darkness only found in the depths of a frigid sea and the greedy causality is like a shallow river of poisoned water, void of life. Though the minions of evil continue to spill innocent blood so will my comrades and I continue to fight until they are all driven to hell.

This Too Shall Pass

This Too Shall Pass

These words, too, were passed down to me by my mother. In the time of my need, they are again presented. The universe has accomplished an amazing feat.

Eclipsed Words

“And this, too, shall pass.”

This is a proverb indicating that all material conditions, positive or negative, are temporary and time solves all problems.

I once read that the great Abraham Lincoln used to have a grand affinity for this proverb. On September 30, 1859, Abraham Lincoln included a similar story in an address before the Wisconsin State Agricultural Society in Milwaukee. This is what he said;
“It is said an Eastern monarch once charged his wise men to invent him a sentence, to be ever in view, and which should be true and appropriate in all times and situations. They presented him the words: “And this, too, shall pass away.”

How much it expresses! How chastening in the hour of pride! How consoling in the depths of affliction!

When we are in trouble, we feel that we are the only person who is facing these mountains full of doubts…

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Only Man

Only Man

When I rounded the corner on my way to the bank, I saw two police cars and an animal control vehicle parked in the roadway up ahead, gathered was a small crowd of people at the corner. As I slowly drove passed, an animal control worker leaned over the body of a small dog that lay still on a small grass area that lined the sidewalk. The dog must have collided with a car, the thought deeply saddened me.

Less than ten minutes later, on my return, I again passed the scene. This time, on the grass alone, was the lifeless body of a dog next to a yellow fire hydrant. The emotional memories of loss pressed against my chest causing tears to stream down my face. When I arrived home and exited my car a woman stopped to ask if I had heard what happened to the dog. I said to her that I thought a car had struck the dog. She shook her head with a sadness I could feel before she slowly described the horror that had taken place five minutes before I rounded the corner.

The owner had just left his house to walk his dog. Out from nowhere an unleashed dog aggressively charged his dog. He kicked the charging dog away at which time the owner of that dog started yelling from across the street. A brief altercation ensued when the unleashed dog’s owner demanded money from the man who kicked his dog. The owner refused, turned away, and quickly headed back to his home.

A brief time later, his teenage son volunteered to take the dog out for a walk. Unfortunately, the man who demanded money returned with another man each bearing a machete. One of the men yanked the dog’s leash from the son’s hand, dragged the dog over to the yellow fire hydrant where the man tied the dog’s leash so it could not escape. They then brutally attacked the dog with the machetes, severing the dog’s spine.

I could not respond to the woman, in shock, I fumbled with my keys to unlock my front door, I desperately wanted to get inside and close out the world. I sat on the couch to ponder the depth of man’s brutality admittedly knowing humanity has exhibited such evilness since its appearance on this planet. Tears of heartbreak dripped from my chin as images of the dog laying there next to the yellow fire hydrant repeated in my mind.

My BuddyThe next morning my dog, Buddy, and I started out for our morning walk. We rounded the same corner and as I neared the fire hydrant I noticed several bouquets of colorful flowers, stuffed teddy bears, and several dog toys now lay around the fire hydrant. I crossed the street with Buddy and approached the memorial.  Someone had hand wrote a poem on a piece of cardboard and taped it to the top of the fire hydrant. The title read, “The Rainbow Bridge.” It was a poem about pets that cross over this bridge to find endless fields of green grass.

After breathing everything in, I turned away with tears in my eyes and started back across the street with Buddy. There is no way to truly comprehend mans’ ability to commit such heinous acts. As I walked farther away from the memorial, Merced appeared even uglier something I thought impossible. After arriving back home with Buddy, I returned to the fire hydrant with a Buddy Bone and placed it in-between the vibrant spring flowers. I wrote on the plastic baggie, “R.I.P. Innocent One.”

Yellow Fire HydrantQuickly identified, the police arrested the butchers where they remained in custody for many months during their trials. Almost a year would pass before a conviction would keep the sub-humans jailed for another year. Over the months until the sentence was known the memorial remained. As the self-appointed caretaker, Buddy and my morning walk included removal of old flowers and repositioning stuffed animals.

Two years have passed, but the image of the innocent dog laying on the ground has become indelibly etched into my memory. To this day, every time I come around the corner and see the yellow fire hydrant, I think of the dog and the colorful memorial, I believe the entire neighborhood does as well.