Defeat, Entrapment & Suicide. A Recent Model of Suicidality

Since writing about my own Crohn’s disease and social unsupport-related suicide (well, euthanasia) attempts I have researched suicide a bit and found something interesting.  Much more interesting than the usual twaddle about anxiety, depression and so-called “mental health” issues that sorry, every woman in this hell-dimension probably experiences somewhat regularly as oppressed people who are almost always trying to keep things alive in a necrophilic culture whether it be plants, pets, children, partners, elderly parents and/or ourselves.

In my estimation, the unusually high stakes of that particular game and myriad of obstacles intentionally placed in our way — meaning quite literally that if we let our guards down for a fucking second, and even if we don’t, literal death will come knocking for ourselves and/or our dependents for which we will suffer both the loss and the blame — would tend to be anxiety-producing in many, most if not all women.  Understanding intellectually, intuitively and/or by experience that our role as lifekeepers in a more or less global necrophilic (patriarchal) context is likely to be impossibly difficult (and ultimately futile, because mortality) is depressing.  And when I say depressing, obviously I mean that any of us would be forgiven if we just couldn’t get up the mental or physical energy to do it anymore.

And we all know the effects of gaslighting by now since it was very helpfully illustrated in a play and then 2 derivative Hollywood movies that perhaps not very many modern people have seen but which concept has come to be understood and referenced in popular culture as well as in clinical and research literature studying abuse — the intent and effect of gaslighting is to deliberately drive the victim insane.  So we have deliberately and predictably anxiety-producing living conditions for most if not all women, which conditions are or become depressing due to futility and exhaustion and then everyone we know and indeed our entire culture/s gaslight us about all of this — telling us in a million ways every day that these conditions that are demonstrably real, aren’t — until we crack, if we don’t die first.  There’s your “mental health” crisis innit.

Continue reading “Defeat, Entrapment & Suicide. A Recent Model of Suicidality”

The Welfare Gnome! It’s Like a Sock Gnome Except This One Can Actually Kill You. Ft. Joker (Again)

According to the internet, a “sock gnome” is a mythical creature that pilfers socks.  Presumably it lives in or around the dryer where you put an even number of socks in and get an odd number out.  Sometimes it gets tricksy and spits out an even number but the pairs don’t match (meaning it’s pilfered one from more than one pair) but the usual evidence that you’ve had a sock pilfered by a gnome is that there is one left over that doesn’t have a mate and the missing sock never reappears ever.  This is a real thing (if not a real gnome) and everyone knows what this means.

Well, there appears to be a similar creature that lives at Social Services and pilfers sick and poor people’s applications for welfare benefits.  Or something, idk.  I assume these creatures are related but maybe not since this gnome doesn’t play games: its goal seems to be to drive you insane before it literally kills you.  I wrote here before about an application for benefits that went missing, along with a half a dozen other boondoggles that have wasted my spoons and left me scrambling to repeat some administrative process I was barely able to complete survive the first time.

Because while a sick person’s literal inability to jump through bureaucratic hoops is actually the best evidence that someone is extremely ill, someone has decided that only those who are well enough to sing for their supper (or pursue benefits) deserve to eat, as it were.  The first application that went missing was for food stamps, while today I found out that my application to get on a 4 month waitlist to see a doctor went missing 2 months ago and has not been since heard from: although my disability advocate hand-delivered it, the application was never received.

Continue reading “The Welfare Gnome! It’s Like a Sock Gnome Except This One Can Actually Kill You. Ft. Joker (Again)”

A “Rational Suicide” Note. Ft. Anne Örtegren.

This is a “suicide” note left by a ME/CFS sufferer who sought and found relief from her suffering via legal, medically assisted suicide.  She says this manifesto took her months to write, which I do not doubt a bit: it is long, detailed and polished and was written when she was feeling terrible.  She wrote it with the intent to describe her almost indescribable pain and experience, and to convince others to take action on behalf of ME/CFS sufferers, both of which are lofty communication goals when anyone is seriously ill.

Describing and convincing have been my most impossible endeavors since I’ve been seriously ill myself and I think I have mostly failed, judging by others’ reactions to everything I’ve managed to gather the physical and emotional grit to attempt to communicate: that I am seriously, hopelessly ill with an incurable, progressive disease, that there is no bottom to how bad this can get, and it matters not what anyone thinks about it.  Some things are just true regardless of whether anyone believes it.

In this note, ME/CFS patient Anne Örtegren describes symptoms and dilemmas I have experienced myself and she foresees logical outcomes to her predicament, something sick people and especially sick women are never allowed to do because catastrophization.  For example, she knows that her heightened sensitivity to light and sound will make treatment or recovery in a hospital setting impossible where the standard of care in that environment requires constant activity and interruptions, and provides no privacy and no escape from the harsh industrial lighting, interrogations by (allegedly) well meaning staff and the general hustle and bustle of capitalistic money making on the backs and bodies of sick and dying people.

That is but one example of a sick person making informed prognostications regarding likely outcomes of the things other people want to do to us, and as someone who shares these sensitivities to light and sound (and therefore an aversion to hospital settings) as but one example of our shared experience of being seriously ill, I appreciated her spelling it out.  I also feel extremely sad that she had to, and furious that no one who allegedly cared about her wellbeing including medical professionals who should be fucking sensitive to the actual needs of real patients could make the leap themselves.  There are many such examples in this letter.

See for yourselves, and understand that as illuminating and raw as this letter is, it’s also been edited by the publisher and a so-called suicide prevention expert because the bottom line everywhere appears to be that there is no such thing as rational suicide or euthanasia because well people and people who make money off of the long-term sick and dying say so.  And because living in this capitalistic, patriarchal nightmare is so hideous for so many people that “suicide contagion” exists, where just knowing that someone, somewhere had whatever it took to end themselves is likely to cause untold numbers of happy, healthy consumers with bright futures to do the same damn thing.  Yeah that’s it, let’s keep telling ourselves that.

The letter as published is reprinted below.  The unedited letter supposedly exists online somewhere if anyone cares to look and has the energy to figure out how and where the edited version differs from the original.  Comments are open below.

Continue reading “A “Rational Suicide” Note. Ft. Anne Örtegren.”

The “I Told You I Was Sick” Tombstone Gag. That Shit Just Never Gets Old. A Halloween Hypochondria Post.

tombstone

Will someone please explain to me how a person’s literal death is evidence that they weren’t actually sick at the time they died or ever?  The “I Told You I Was Sick” tombstone may (or may not idk) have been around as long as tombstones themselves have been around and it is even cataloged in a collection of “curious epitaphs” as the epitaph of an ancient hypochondriac.

The epitaph.  Of a hypochondriac.  Hmm.  While I process that very concept a moment, I Google “hypochondria” and find that the word doesn’t mean exactly what I thought it meant.  Or rather, the origin of the word itself was nothing like I had assumed.  Apparently, the very concept of unverified/unverifiable illness causing patients extreme physical and mental distress originated from complaints involving the abdomen.  Why doesn’t that surprise me at all.  From Wiki:

Among the regions of the abdomen, the hypochondrium is the uppermost part.  The word derives from the Greek term ὑποχόνδριος hypokhondrios, meaning “of the soft parts between the ribs and navel” from ὑπό hypo (“under”) and χόνδρος khondros, or cartilage (of the sternum).

Hypochondria in Late Latin meant “the abdomen”. 

The term hypochondriasis for a state of disease without real cause reflected the ancient belief that the viscera of the hypochondria were the seat of melancholy and sources of the vapor that caused morbid feelings.  Until the early 18th century, the term referred to a “physical disease caused by imbalances in the region that was below your rib cage”.  Robert Burton’s The Anatomy of Melancholy (1621) blamed it “for everything from ‘too much spittle’ to ‘rumbling in the guts’.

Bolds mine.  Apparently, people have been presenting to doctors for a long, long time complaining of upper abdominal pain, too much spittle chronic nausea and/or drooling, and rumbling in the guts the dreaded intestinal gurgling that often foretells an impending Crohn’s flare and they had morbid feelings about that.  You don’t say.

I should mention here that capsule endoscopy, which is currently the only way to get diagnostic imaging of the lining of the small bowel, is a very new technology that’s extremely expensive and often not covered by insurance.  Before modern imaging technology, including capsule endoscopy technology, diseases of the upper part of the abdomen in particular were virtually undiagnosable.  Due to its inaccessible location, in practice, even today, for many if not most people getting a reliable diagnostic image of the hypochondrium (!) or the upper part of the abdomen and gastrointestinal tract is impossible.

Continue reading “The “I Told You I Was Sick” Tombstone Gag. That Shit Just Never Gets Old. A Halloween Hypochondria Post.”

Holy Shit Y’all. Morgellon’s Disease (Aka “Delusional Parasitosis”) is Actually Real. #gaslighting #fuckdoctors #killallmen

Whilst performing my daily catch-up with my favorite conspiratard sites, today I found this: recent peer-reviewed medical research indicating that so-called Morgellon’s disease is actually a real, physical ailment and not all in patients’ — usually female patients’ — heads.  I have had a slightly more than casual interest in Morgellon’s disease for at least a decade if not two, and I am seeing the year 2002 thrown around as the approximate date that reports of this confounding, untreatable and disabling medical condition first appeared in the United States.  People — usually female people — started presenting to their doctors for diagnosis and treatment of a condition comprised of skin lesions, often with strange “fibers” protruding from them or embedded in the unbroken skin or in the scabs, as well as maddening feelings of itching, crawling, burning etc. under or on their skin as if “bugs” were crawling there.  There were almost certainly additional complaints considering what Morgellon’s actually turned out to be — a tickbourne infection that is often comorbid with Lyme disease — but let’s leave it there for now.

Morgellon’s patients routinely brought in a collection of scabs and fibers to show their doctors, intending to be good patients and their own “advocates” to help the doctors do their job, which is the current advice given to particularly women in order to insure that they get the best medical treatment possible (and so that the women themselves as actors or co-actors on their own “care team” can take part or all of the blame when they are not effectively treated).  Whereupon the doctors proceeded to mock the women and their attempts to document and provide physical evidence of what was happening to them by referring to such evidence as “matchbox sign” because women allegedly brought the fibers and scabs with them in empty matchboxes.  Of course, matchbox sign was a euphemism for evidence of fraud and mental, not physical, disease.

Here is an example of “matchbox sign” where the woman brought her evidence in a folded piece of paper, and not an empty matchbox, but whatever right?  The point of inventing and naming matchbox sign was so that doctors could warn other doctors that the person sitting in front of them covered in lesions and in terrible, ongoing and relentless pain, cradling a sad bundle of phony evidence was crazy.  The point was obviously not to tell the truth or describe anything accurately or even neutrally, or in a way that was likely to get these women meaningful treatment or relief.

Continue reading “Holy Shit Y’all. Morgellon’s Disease (Aka “Delusional Parasitosis”) is Actually Real. #gaslighting #fuckdoctors #killallmen”

Antiauthoritarianism: Illustration via Juxtaposition.

If the above vid is not the perfect illustration of concept I don’t know what is.  This is the most recent YouTube upload by Royalty Soaps, what used to be a one-woman soapmaking business that has grown over several years into something else.  The backstory here seems to be that at some point, the eldest yet still teenaged daughter in some freakishly large Quiverfull-type family consisting of a mother, a father and a dozen(ish) Irish twins* started making soap and with the help and support of that family has become very successful and has now delegated some of her substantial duties to others.

As described in this vid, this woman’s business recently experienced an unexpected and frightening setback and she relied heavily on her family to correct the situation and save the day, which they did in spades.  They also had the time, energy, material resources and desire to throw her an Insta-worthy backyard 25th birthday party in the midst of this family project.  The party was beautiful and the familial love and care given and received there, as documented in this vid…well watch it for yourself and see what you think.  For me, the experience of watching this was somewhat complicated.  I enjoyed it, was moved by it but it made me deeply uncomfortable and thinky…and hungry for salad, cake and sun tea.

What was so deeply disturbing to me about this footage was the backdrop against which it was shot and I’m not referring to her (albeit somewhat disturbing) home state of Texas, or a photo prop.  The backdrop here, as it is most everywhere, is the social context of capitalism and patriarchy and what that means is that, in order for this situation and this footage to exist, this woman has had to comply, comply, comply in order to reap what must be conditional rewards of love; affection; physical presence and caretaking; emotional care and concern; and finally, material things that, under the current system, really only money can buy.  Doesn’t it?  In her case, she has had to buy into the religious, political and social traditions of her family including the patriarchal authority of her parents, the heterosexual and mommy mandates and more in order to have what she has.  Of course, the traditions of her family mirror the traditions of her culture more or less exactly.

Luckily for her there does not seem to be any obvious conflict between her own values, conscience etc. and that of her family (or culture) but what if there was?  What would happen to her if she woke up one day with, say, environmental concerns implicating overpopulation and natalism, or economic concerns implicating capitalism and the money system and the ethics of making and selling soap (or doing anything) for profit?  What if, God forbid, this Quiverfull (or whatever) daughter woke up one day with feminist concerns which implicate all of that plus the destablization of the patriarchal authority of her father/parents, her husband, her church and the State?

Continue reading “Antiauthoritarianism: Illustration via Juxtaposition.”

PSA: How To Report A Threat Of Violence to Increase Chances Of Arrest, Hold & Criminal Charges (Or, The One That Maybe Didn’t Get Away).

It really bothers me that I’m sitting on all this legal knowledge, experience and skill and there’s nothing I can do with or about it.  Because of the pain and symptoms of my disease I am definitely not physically or mentally able to practice law full time anymore, but as I learned early on, to my crushing dismay, there is really no such thing as a part-time attorney.  This profession is still a bros club which means that it requires long hours and plenty of so-called face time, exactly as much as you would expect in order to squeeze most women out of most of the best positions while simultaneously providing cover, excuse and alibi under which powerful men commit adultery, avoid emasculating and squikky domestic chores, and otherwise abuse their power at women’s and everyone’s expense.  Seriously, don’t let the relatively high rate of female law graduates fool you into thinking the law is a reliably safe, lucrative or accessible field for women because it’s definitely not.  Fuck me did I learn that one the hard way.

But you know what?  I’m not dead yet and I’m still breathing and conscious and pissed off enough to write this post so I’m going to write it.  Today, my upstairs neighbor had what was apparently a psychotic break and started throwing bottles of piss and garbage into my yard and threatened my life.  I called the cops and made a report.  He was arrested and removed based on my statement and that of other witnesses (crime victims are technically just witnesses ourselves) and my property manager cleaned and disinfected my yard at my request.  The cops, firemen, first responders and the whole damn town apparently turned up to watch the show.  What they didn’t get to see was the man who threatened and assaulted me get off with a warning or with no consequences at all.  Who knows what the second act will be but the first act saw my assaulter arrested and taken to the hospital first, then presumably to jail.

I am writing this post to give a practical, technical example of proper reporting behavior/content to victims who report threatening or violent behavior, which reporting will leave the cops with little choice but to arrest, hold and charge the perpetrator with a crime.  Little choice is not no choice of course and they could still let him out/off at any time.  That’s probably exactly what will happen in the end, but I gave them as little choice as possible and increased the chances of an arrest, hold and charge the best I could.  Here’s what I did.  The short answer is, you have to answer YES to both of the following questions if you want the incident to be taken as seriously as possible at the reporting stage, hopefully ensuring that your attacker is arrested and taken to jail, that he is held there, and that he is properly charged with a crime.

Continue reading “PSA: How To Report A Threat Of Violence to Increase Chances Of Arrest, Hold & Criminal Charges (Or, The One That Maybe Didn’t Get Away).”