Wed 16 April 08
Does anyone relate to animals in the same way that I do? I wonder if anyone could ever understand how important and valuable they were to me, and how black and endless it feels to have had all 14 of them torn away, vanished, by the Mental Hell incompetents who were supposed to help me (Greenfield, MA office of department of mental health.
The sun hurts, because we walked in the sun, and slept in it. The moon hurts, because the dogs and I would go out under it to have moonshadows. Music hurts, because we always listened to it together. And on and on.
Update 24 July 2009: It's more than a year since I wrote this post. I still don't have an apartment. I've been a long, rocky road since this post was written, and you could read more about that on my other blog here, also called mental hell, and on these blogs: soulcast.com/sehnen, mishi's blog on wrongplanet.net, braon and braonwandering on wordpress.com.
There is truly no moon for me anymore, or stars. They no longer exist for me in the way they did for the 55 years that I had animals.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Monday, April 14, 2008
Falling down the rabbit hole
Mon 14 April 2008
What's the rabbit hole? Alice fell down the rabbit hole and entered wonderland, that surreal, bizarre, often unkind place that we all love as long as it's a story, and not our real life. But it's a far different thing, and wonderland isn't funny anymore, when your own life is full of lies and meanness and smoke and mirrors. I've got another blog on soulcast.com, and my name there is sehnen. It's so important to me to tell the facts of what happened to me and my innocent animals when we fell down the hole that I have to tell it in two places, that I have to tell it and tell it until I die, and thanks to the department of mental hell, I'm quite sure I'll be dying sooner than I'd thought.
It's a Kafka novel, what happened to us, a screwed-up, heartless wonderland. I went to them for help, and they helped me right into the worst misery, the worst trauma, the worst unkindness of my life. If you live in Massachusetts, and someone you care about wants to go to the department of mental health for help, I hope you'll stop them. I hope you'll help them yourself, that family and friends will help them, that other social service agencies will help, but please stay away from the DMH. You'll end up on lots of drugs (I haven't let them do that yet), zombied-out, and allowing every facet of your life to be controlled and micro-managed by them.
Till later.
Update 23 July 2009: After only a few posts last year, I abandoned this blog for another one by the same name (mental hell) on this same website. Mostly it was a mistake I made remembering how to get back into this blog, so I just started a new one.
My animals and I fell into the rabbit hole of lies and smoke and mirrors late in 2006. They are no longer in it: they were stolen from me and made to disappear on 12 March 2008. But I remain there: lies and smoke and mirrors. Still without an apartment for going on 17 months. Presumably still under some kind of underhanded federal protection, because Matthew and some of his colleagues are still here. Still stonewalled by the people who know what became of my animals and will not tell. Free of the DMH, though, as I dumped them last July. Social workers who are trying to help me want me to get back with the DMH, but they meet a hard wall of stone when they bring THAT up.
What's the rabbit hole? Alice fell down the rabbit hole and entered wonderland, that surreal, bizarre, often unkind place that we all love as long as it's a story, and not our real life. But it's a far different thing, and wonderland isn't funny anymore, when your own life is full of lies and meanness and smoke and mirrors. I've got another blog on soulcast.com, and my name there is sehnen. It's so important to me to tell the facts of what happened to me and my innocent animals when we fell down the hole that I have to tell it in two places, that I have to tell it and tell it until I die, and thanks to the department of mental hell, I'm quite sure I'll be dying sooner than I'd thought.
It's a Kafka novel, what happened to us, a screwed-up, heartless wonderland. I went to them for help, and they helped me right into the worst misery, the worst trauma, the worst unkindness of my life. If you live in Massachusetts, and someone you care about wants to go to the department of mental health for help, I hope you'll stop them. I hope you'll help them yourself, that family and friends will help them, that other social service agencies will help, but please stay away from the DMH. You'll end up on lots of drugs (I haven't let them do that yet), zombied-out, and allowing every facet of your life to be controlled and micro-managed by them.
Till later.
Update 23 July 2009: After only a few posts last year, I abandoned this blog for another one by the same name (mental hell) on this same website. Mostly it was a mistake I made remembering how to get back into this blog, so I just started a new one.
My animals and I fell into the rabbit hole of lies and smoke and mirrors late in 2006. They are no longer in it: they were stolen from me and made to disappear on 12 March 2008. But I remain there: lies and smoke and mirrors. Still without an apartment for going on 17 months. Presumably still under some kind of underhanded federal protection, because Matthew and some of his colleagues are still here. Still stonewalled by the people who know what became of my animals and will not tell. Free of the DMH, though, as I dumped them last July. Social workers who are trying to help me want me to get back with the DMH, but they meet a hard wall of stone when they bring THAT up.
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