September 15th, 2002


(no subject)

Restless night. I sat up a little while after waking at about 2:30, read. My mind is full of things. Terms from Toxic Psychiatry went through my head, along with thoughts about the IRS and other things I need to deal with. I resolved to write these personal issues on a list so that they would at least be in writing and not floating ominously in my head. The first step...admit the problem...

I am thinking a lot about the book and how I might write about it. I will write about it in here, of course, possibly in the readingroom as well, and maybe I'll do a piece on my newer website. Not only that book, but Mad in America and Prozac Backlash and any others I find along the way that deal with psychiatric drugs. I don't know how to reach the persons I love and care about who have been told by their doctors not only that these drugs are safe but that they should be taking them for long periods. I believe many doctors believe the misleading claims of the drug makers and in the journals and do not pursue any doubts they may have themselves. Or question and review the actual studies. Too many doctors don't have the time to do the research that would scare the hell out of them if they did.

The Gift, continued

Keanu Reeves as a villain, Hilary Swank as poor white abused trash, Cate Blanchett as a psychic. And they do it very well. Playing more to type are Greg Kinnear and Gary Cole, who is so wonderfully intense. I was completely sucked into this film. It didn't change my life but it didn't have to.

The Big Lie

Did I mention my flexihose? I bought it last week. It crossed my mind that if this hose were so good why were the stores still selling the conventional, more expensive varieties, and the expensive, bulky hose carriers. When I tried out the new hose the other day I learned why. It has to be completely unrolled, straight, before the water is turned on. Or else kink city, worse than any kinks I have ever gotten in a conventional hose. The sprayer attachment has a small reservoir for soap or herbicide but no way to turn that part on or off. If you put stuff in there and use the sprayer you had better use it until it's all used up. It doesn't roll up particularly easily, either. I still have to work on it to bring it back in line.

I was just starting to use the hose when Mike drove up Friday. I laughed about it. The Big Lie, I said, the advertising for the product is for the very qualities that it does not have.

So I figure I'll get all that crap together and bring it back to the store. I bought it in Santa Maria, unfortunately, so I have been thinking of what else I might want to do while I am down there. I have had enough bread today, so no pretzel. But maybe paint. I am thinking of just painting my bedroom, just to see how it looks, if my instincts are okay.

Shocking facts

These days, the majority of electroshock patients are elderly women. The persons least likely to object, the persons most likely to be severely affected by the treatments.

Some psychiatrists have used - and I assume continue to use - electroshock to rid persons, mainly women, of some or all of their memories, to reduce them to a docile, infantile state, so they can be "reprogrammed". One case in particular was a Stepford Wives scenario. An abusive husband threatened his wife with obtaining custody if she tried to divorce him and she agreed to ECT to avoid the possibility. She was brought by shock treatments to an infantile state, where her husband bottle-fed her and fed her a new identity, even a new name. There was no outcry from other psychiatrists when this case was presented in prestigious journals. Makes me wonder what kind of people go into psychiatry these days, and I am afraid I know.


I returned the flexihose and bought a gallon of paint, a brush, and painter's tape, the blue stuff. The paint counter was a challenge to get through. There was no way to figure out who was ahead of whom or how long it would take to get a gallon mixed up. I hung in there, less irritated than I have been in similar cases in the past (when I might just have walked out while the stuff was mixing), but thought maybe I'll go to a REAL paint place next time. Pay a little more, get a lot more service.

I was in a buying mood. Retail therapy time. So I went to the linen store and bought three canisters for the kitchen that were on sale. It seems like I have to buy more if I travel farther. Well, makes sense, in a way. A weird kind of way.