A Schizophrenic Complaint 1

This is my personal blog. And maybe you read my “about” page understanding that I am not like „all the rest”, that I was only a slave, a psychiatric patient and this is what I am. You can say : STOP don’t do that, it is useless and no one is interested in your misery, no one has pity and everyone knows the truth about stories like yours. Of course I know that I haven’t rights in the free society and I lived in terror for 28 years, while those who had all advantages in their lives acted towards me as if I were to blame, as if it is a shame or forbidden to speak the truth, effectively that I was a normal person without any guilt all this time. You can stop reading further from this line. I can assure you that all these things written by me here comprise only 1% of my miseries and sufferings. You can ask again why do you write this? My answer is just because I am still alive, though crowded with big financial stress and physical suffering (my legs are swollen for months but it seems that doctors don’t have any medicine to give me for this concrete, physical disorder, which creates anxiety and psychological troubles). Also I am completely isolated, the society rejected me, in spite of my good intentions for 28 years and now I cannot even step in my shoes…I can also say what you already know and it is written on many personal blogs or in thousands of books: we live in a hypocritical society. The others made art (literature, songs, films, paintings) from the sufferings of those like me or from cruel life conclusions driven by such facts and by the man or woman struggle to survive and they stated many of my life conclusions as natural, normal truths. The difference is that they were accepted and won honorable prizes or decorations or even money, while those like me are tied in hospital beds with a gag in their mouth (they did so to me a few times). So, WHY NOT ME? I was a viable and valuable individual, like all the rest, but one of the few totally bereft of human rights. I read about human rights, all those rights were not belonging to me.
Before telling my story (a small part of it) you must know a few facts about me:
1) I never lied my whole life (I am 41 now). I couldn ‘t lie because I was educated like this and because my situation did not allow that. The contradiction is that psychiatrists and others criticized my honesty, said that I must learn to lie, while they were inventing that my delirium or delusions are paranoid and systematized for example, while they were forcing me with psychiatric drugs to tell the whole truth about my life again and again. And I had proofs for everything since I was 13, when my suffering started. The truth is that those drugs induce a sort of hypnotic state of mind or a kind of weakness therefore the suffering is even more greater and the patient is obliged to tell the whole truth he knows about his life. I didn’t understand in the beginning why psychiatrists are considered to be gods (I was treated by four of them), why people act as if they were right to condemn me to death (I will explain later on). Why no one accepts for example the fact that the patient could have been more intelligent then them, then those who decided his fate and maybe he, the patient was right? Why don’t they accept human errors in psychiatric cases? Only after more than 20 years I understood that i was rejected by the whole society, like common people were pointing thumbs down for a gladiator slave in an arena. But I never considered life as a game or a fight itself, I lived calm and as abnormal person. I was never a fake and I could not understand how others live their lives in such hypocrisy. I loved life, I wanted to live my life, the others took it completely from me. The psychiatrists and psychologists have many hidden security doors – different explanations for the patient’s stories – because they are free like all the rest, they have power and influence in the world. They can say the patient is not responsive to treatment or they can invent that the patient’s disease is caused exactly by their drugs (drug induced psychosis), because they are used to lie, to handle the slaves. They are a sort of managers or manager’s staff. Many times for example I was accused by them violently (and by others too) that I don’t take those drugs while I was taking them on a regular basis. And they call reality delusion or hallucinations in case of psychiatric patients and normal conduct becomes abnormal. Either I took or I did not take those drugs the truth stayed the same, how can someone imagine that the reality of a life story can be deleted or modified by drugs? Drugs can make the patient forget some details of his story, but not the truth that he did absolutely nothing wrong. Drugs can efface the upper part of memory pyramid – respectively the cultural achievements (I am talking about artistic knowledge, philosophy, sciences, because I used to read a lot) – but they cannot change the basis, the effective truth about one’s life events and martyrdom. Because those things have a strong connection with the emotional brain as it is sometimes called, they are strongly linked to a person’s personality, to the whole psycho-biological system. In the beginning I could not understand their cruelty to force me take those drugs saying that they can change my mind – what kind of absurd thought is this? How can someone believe that drugs can change one’s thoughts? And effectively I was not thinking about the past, I was under heavy stress, real obstacles in my life in the present and they always denied the reality of those facts. I had no abnormal thoughts at all and the reality (present or past) cannot be changed by drugs. Only after many years I understood that they all know that but continue to be hypocrites towards innocent ones. For example the second time they put me in the hospital (forcefully) they let me out only the moment I took the decision to commit suicide, as if they were reading my mind. But don’t you think that I was thinking in mind superficially – I simply took the decision, my thinking was of course deep inside myself. Another fact I need to mention, although there are hundreds of facts invented by their majesties (psy staff) is that I was a psychology student for 6 years and then a medical student for 5 years and they can say that their alibi is that I was reading too many scientific books, inducing me again delusions, systematizing my delirium. Of course it is not true, I stayed the same since I was 13, they placed me in hospital when I was only 21 and the story of my life (what they call schizophrenia) stayed the same until now, not at all adorned by those books I read later.
2) I was raised by a poor family and only my father had higher education, he was a road engineer. I was poor since I was a child and I think maybe this is the main cause for the fact that they chose me as a sacrifice or slave, whatever is the word that you prefer. In old times (socialist era), before 1989 Revolution, differences between social classes seemed to be less visible regarding family income. But even then I was from the poorest children in my environment, even though I was raised on the outskirts of Bucharest, in a poor satellite village. I understood that visiting some of my colleagues but I had no complexes or worries for the future. The differences became more visible when the parents took me home from my grandmother, when I was 13, in 1984. And I remained poor my whole life, in adolescence I had no pocket money like other children, I had only a few dresses and shoes. It was for example a fantastic gift to receive a pick-up as a present when I was 15 or 16. And I had a few records and a only a few books bought by me. In my adult years it was the same and after my father’s death it was even harder because the real estate market plummeted for years and my income was reduced in the last 5 years only to food supplies. I can’t afford to buy a cheap Opera ticket in order to relax, I can’t even afford to have a haircut to feel more comfortable, I can’t afford to go in the park to admire flowers and nature, to breathe fresh air because the road is too costly for me. I depend on my mother’s financial help to survive and she hasn’t too much money, she is still working although she is 65. And sooner or later she will have to quit her job, but I cannot move with her. I rather prefer to die locked in my two rooms apartment (a single room would have been almost the same) than to move with that woman to save money. Not to speak about the fact that I have only two or three cloth suits to wear in the last 5 years and I wear the same pans summer or winter for 5 years. And my only winter jacket is more than 15 years old. You cannot understand poverty if you haven’t experienced it. It is one of the worst sufferings along with loneliness. The only thing they can accuse me of is the fact that I was smoking in the last years, consuming my financial resources like this. In the years 2006-2007 I quit smoking but then sufferings and stress were piling up and I smoked again, because the society tortured me more and more and these physical problems appeared in my body. I also became very fat (110 kg) which is very painful in my situation, lacking a part of my left leg because of my suicide attempt at the end of 1998. The state doesn’t give financial help in cases of schizophrenia (it was only 60-70 euros a month a few years ago, I don’t know the amount given right now because I refused back then, wanting to be free, to have a job somewhere, for one leg missing they gave only 10 euros a month). The only thing I gained after my suicide attempt was a medical insurance, because otherwise I could never get one.
3) About my life history: born in 1971 I was raised until the age of 13 in Voluntari, near Bucharest. Then I moved with my parents. I finished the high-school (lycée) in 1989 and I lost my entrance exam to Medical University in 1989 because of objective obstacles. Then I was fighting even more and I passed the entrance examination (the 12th on the list) in another city, Cluj, for Psychology Faculty at the local University there. I was obliged to move back to Bucharest after one year of studies there. I was imprisoned and diagnosed in 1992, in spring. Then I continued my studies without understanding completely my social status, the fact that schizophrenics don’t have the right to work and to relate with others, so they cannot have money at all. I obtained my license in Psychology in 1995, after 5 years of studies and usually the highest grades (when I was a pupil it was the same). I read a lot of scientific literature after reading in adolescence many good belletrist books, poetry and prose, usually from public libraries, where the access was free. (Even then people were laughing at me as if I were insane because I read too much, a sort of Don Quixote). But I tried to find a job as my parents were urging me to do, even in 1989-1990 and I could not find one. After license I was pushed aside so I decided to continue my studies because I had no choice, I entered the master studies in Bucharest for Psychotherapy. But the teachers told me that I don’t have the right to practice as a clinical psychologist and I don’t have the right to finish my studies. I couldn’t find a job , so I decided to prepare myself for Medical studies, hoping in vain I will find freedom and human rights at last. I lost the entrance exam there twice, in 1996 and 1997, I was admitted in 1998, the 20th on the list. I began studying with hopes as usual in my life (I was always a great optimist, a positive thinker as they say now, but in vain, and my love for humankind was also in vain, they responded with a sort of hatred). But gradually in that autumn I began to experience horrible migraines, which did not occurred in my life before. At the years end I ran away from the city with some money from my mother, hoping to find a place to sleep in a hotel, to feel less pressure. But the migraine aggravated and I could not find a place to sleep, I was begging for a place of any kind and they said that my place was in the Police arrest. The migraine was horrible and people were horrible in that hotel, for example they filmed me with a camera dancing around me on a different songs (they had a musical band there – a gipsy man was playing for example about the sacrifice of the first born). I called my father to came and bring me back to Bucharest. He came with a cab. I asked him to help me to go to the hospital because I couldn’t bear that pain anymore. He said that my place is not there, but only where the very severe and hopeless mental cases are kept. Arriving home he went to bed with my mother. I stood petrified by pain in the kitchen, taking my clothes off in the beginning trying to relax. Then I took the decision to jump from the window because I was afraid to lose my mind, because I did not want to become one of them…I did not told the whole story, you can imagine how many evil persons I met my whole life. After the amputation I continued my medical studies but I could not finish them. Those teachers also told me that I have no rights to be a medical doctor. I renounced after almost 5 years of endeavors, when the physical problems in my body aggravated. It was as if I were carrying a heavy load, being also in chains. In 2002 I started to go to any civilian or governmental organization you can imagine in this city, praying for human rights. They all rejected my plea, even the Catholic and the Orthodox churches refused my request to retire in a monastery. I worked illegally as a teacher, but I could not accept that compromise, I wanted legal rights and I was pushed out after two years. I went through much more misfortunes than I could tell in this story. I lost all my family members one by one and I never had friends. After my father’s death in 2005 I hardly found a job in 2007 as a librarian, but they obliged me to do only the dusting and did not keep their promises about promotion and salary. Then they obliged me to stay 8 hours a day without doing a thing and it was horrible. They were very unkind towards me, getting along with each other. After one year of suffering I resigned. Then I was totally isolated in my two rooms apartment and I can tell for sure I was still able to do some work but they refused to accept me in their society. I was educated to love work very much. They took everything from me and I can tell you that complete isolation is one of the worst things that can happen in someone’s life, maybe even worse than poverty. I began writing poems at the end of 2006, but all these 6 years I wrote in vain, my poems were not likeable, were not good enough for people’s tastes. I am talking of course about literary critiques and poetry lovers, because poetry is a luxury for a few lucky ones. I stopped writing poems last December, I restarted with no results this year, I began writing this blog.
I am attaching here my Curriculum Vitae in English, although it is not important, I tried to find a job in vain, they asked me to write it in English.

The story I need to tell after explaining the most important facts of my life will be short. I will post it in the next days as a continuation in four parts for this complaint. I know it is useless for me or for others, things will not change in the society, everyone says that the one who is destined to be their fool will be a fool his whole life (or insane if you prefer the other term). This is what they told me many times, directly or indirectly.

Curriculum Vitae

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