Withdrawal Diary episode #3

 Withdrawal Diary Episode #3

Withdrawal Diary episode #2

 Withdrawal Diary Jan. 30, 2022

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Withdrawal Diary. Please bookmark!

Withdrawal Diary      Janurary 29, 2022, via Ragnar Station.  

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Books: "King's X: The Oral History", Greg Prato/King's X - 2019

Ah, King's X.  One of my favorite bands of all time, right up there with KISS.  I have a KISS related tattoo on my arm, and a King's X related one on my back left shoulder.  Both of these groups helped shape my life and created a safety net for me when times got tough.  I've seen King's X once in the early 90's on their "Dogman" album tour, and again a few years ago, when I actually got to meet and talk with them.  That was a moment in my life that is stamped in time forever.  Unquestionably, they're the nicest, friendliest celebrities I've ever met, or ever will.

"The Oral History" is basically an interview-type style setting/biography that details the ups and downs of the band's three decades long, and counting, career as they speak in great detail about the journey they've been on.  We find out what brought them together, the making of their music, the stories behind all their songs and tours, and what makes them tick.  The early selling points of the band were that they were a Beatles-esque "Christian" metal band, with a wide range of influences that include the Fab Four, with a healthy dose of progressive rock suggestions reminiscent of Rush and Yes, and a smattering of all kinds of influences that range from bluegrass to gospel to straight-ahead metal.  It's kind of hard to really pin down what style they are, as they don't play by any rules but their own.

Their early Christian roots that dot the landscape of much of their formative days actually turn out to be not unlike U2 - who ironically don't call themselves Christian rockers, but a rock band that has some religious intonations here and there.  That sums up much of early King's X, yet they got saddled with the "Christian rock" label anyway, much to their dismay, as it pigeonholes them into just one rather claustrophobic audience, which limited their success, if not downright flatlined it towards the middle of their careers.  But they persevered and found their own identity by the time their fifth record "Dogman" was released.  In the catalogue before that, they were produced and managed by a guy named Sam Taylor, who, as it turns out, was pivotal in the band's early success, but even moreso in their wheel-spinning ways by the time their final collaboration of their fourth self-titled album came out.  King's X were basically poor and broke by the end of the tour for that record, with, it seems, the overwhelming bulk of their earnings being absorbed by Taylor's management company.  Their label in those days, Atlantic, didn't help matters at all by basically ignoring the band, more or less, as they worked and worked while Taylor's company reaped the financial rewards.  It's universally known in the music industry that King's X should have been selling out arenas, if not stadiums, rather than slaving away in clubs and opening for groups they should have had at least equal success with.  

Bassist Doug Pinnick had a massive falling out with Christianity when Evangelicals discovered he was actually gay, thus painting him more as a villain than a hero.  He was so ravaged by critics of his lifestyle that it completely turned him off and away from his faith, though not exactly making him atheist.  At the same time, it freed him to be who he really was, and the soul in his voice resonated even more with all his brutal honesty.  It's just a shame that he had to be judged that way in the first place.  Pinnick's bass style is so distinct that it's been emulated by countless musicians across the musical landscape, even successfully spawning his own brand of gear.  And no one in rock has a more honest vocal approach than he does.

Guitarist Ty Tabor reveals his influences from growing up in the mid-south, shaping his unique and identifiable sound that in my ears makes him my favorite guitarist ever.  Tabor gets a little dodgy with some of the explanations from his lyrics and inspirations, likely because he doesn't want the Christian label attached to every single thing he does, knowing that it's career suicide.  The John Lennon influence in his writing and singing is undeniable, and the kind-heartedness in his interviews is refreshing amidst the turmoil that exists within the craftings of his music, namely in the years after their third and most successful record, "Faith Hope Love".  Reading his musings on his ongoing struggles in the music industry seem to sync up well with the albums that were released as the band progressed.  

Jerry Gaskill's story through the years is heartbreaking too, as the drummer reveals his struggles with alcohol addiction at times, and how he dealt with relationship issues while maintaining his stature in the band as the key melodic voice in the three-piece, as well as his solid, energetic backbeat.  Reading his story, it's amazing he's alive today.  The poor guy's had it rough right up to when he suffered his first heart attack many years ago, preceded by relationship troubles and just plain bad luck.  The guy's a genuine trooper, getting up repeatedly and defiantly after getting knocked down over and over.  His is one of the more inspiring stories in rock and roll.

It's quite incredible the amount of bad luck this band has had.  From being screwed by management, to getting betrayed by a Rolling Stone writer in what should have been a time that would be the pinnacle of their career, to gross mishandling from their Atlantic label among so many other things, King's X forges on in spite of it all, maintaining and even growing their core audience over thirty years later.  Support from their peers is undeniably rabid - with the likes of Motley Crue, The Police, Anthrax, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, KISS, Iron Maiden, AC/DC, Robert Palmer among countless others citing them as one of the most important bands to have ever come around.  You just don't earn the credit these guys get from company like that everyday.

"The Oral History" will leave fans of the band more than satisfied, as well as offering newbies a close look at one of the most influential - if relatively unknown - bands ever to record music.

This is without a doubt, really Smooth Gravy.

Dear Bruce,

This is a facebook post that I copied before I posted it, because facebook wouldn't let it go up.

And I 100% stand by everything I say here.

And it makes me sad that I actually have to do and say all this.  The world has a real virus called Hatred that is infecting all corners.  I just believe it still needs to be called out, if for nothing else than personal integrity.

This is what I said:

I will try this again.

The first time I tried to post this, facebook didn't let it through. I'm beside myself here with disappointment, disillusionment and anger. But I think that's what facebook cultivates now, right? There's hard evidence in courts right now to prove that.

But here's my beef:

KISS are my heroes. Bruce Kulick, their guitarist from the 80's and 90's, was their best, to me. That opinion is subjective, and that's fine. But I've been waving Bruce's flag since he was dropped from the lineup once the reunion happened.

On his facebook page, he proudly announced that he's excited to be on the bill playing with Grand Funk Railroad, whom he now plays with, in support of Kid Rock. Kid Fucking Rock.

I commented on that page that I can't support any tour with the w h i t e t r a s h likes of Kid Rock on the bill, and that's a hard pass for me. There are other comments on that same page that expressed how many Bruce fans will hold their noses about the whole thing and even leave before Kid Rock hits the stage. I'm not quite that positive about it.

My comment was removed due to racial insensitivity.

..............!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm more racially insensitive than Kid Rock?!?!?! If it weren't so stupid it would be hilarious!!

I hereby renounce my support of Bruce Kulick. I just can't believe it.

Kid Rock is a symbol of general intolerance in the world right now. His unabashed support for Trumpism and everything akin to it is shocking on every level. To support that kind of thing is outside of my own comprehension. Kid Rock represents everything that is wrong with the Right these days in their extremist views. To buy an album, concert ticket or anything with his name on it is support for those views, which Mr. Kid stands proudly for.

If you're reading this and don't like my views on Shit Rock, you're free to unfriend me or whatever you call it. But I've had enough of all this pro-hatred crap. It bothers me that I'm allowing myself to become this angry at this situation as it is. But that kind of behavior is exactly what this cultivates.

Farewell, Bruce.

I will leave my mind open if you change your own views on this matter. I have to think my real hero Eric Carr would be remarkably disappointed in you.

Books: "Proof of Heaven" - Eben Alexander, M.D. (2012)

Seeing as it's now 2022, and Covid is still the big giant pain in the ass that it is that it was two whole years ago, coupled along with... for me, an abundance of free time because of my work leave... I've actually done myself a favor and actually started reading books.  And liking it, even.  

I've never really been much of a book reader.  It's probably not right to say that I'm not smart enough to read, which I've said that about myself a lot through life.  But really, I just had to give it a chance, undistracted, open up my mind to strange new worlds in fiction and non-fiction, and give my brain a bit of a workout.  I wanted to start off with something that would give me some kind of hope.  The title kind of did it for me... "Proof of Heaven".

Whether you're religious or not, this is a pretty compelling read.  Dr. Alexander doesn't really subscribe to one particular religion over another, or even in beliefs.  What he tries to rationalize in this story is what he feels happened to him while he was in a coma for over a week.  The memories he professes to retain from his otherworldly journey into the afterlife are cross-examined by himself, as he tries to punch holes in the reasoning behind why he might have had this happen to him to begin with.  Being a doctor... and a neurosurgeon, and highly respected at that, he realizes he puts his credibility in jeopardy by writing this book, and even sympathizing with those who are non-believers.  Yet he insists that the deeply detailed, colorful, full-of-life imagery that he believes he encountered happened on some plane of existence we just don't understand yet.  

This isn't just a story about his experience while he was under in a coma, though.  He was truly near death.  Some might argue with what he went through, he'd have been better of if he'd died, except he survived, when he actually shouldn't have.  He details the family life he was brought up with, having been adopted as a baby, and raised lovingly by his new parents.  Without giving anything away, there comes a significant reveal near the end of his story that ties things up nicely that really does give you hope.  Not just for him, but for yourself.  For everyone.

The hope that he winds up espousing is, that we are never alone.  And what waits for us beyond this life is unimaginable, literally.  I came away from reading this feeling uplifted, and fearing dying less.  It's not really death I'm afraid of as dying, because that just seems like it'll be awfully painful, chances are.  But it's what comes next that this makes me feel good about.  Although my one qualm is that the book's title is a bit of a misnomer.  He has no literal proof of where he claims he was.

No matter your faith, denomination, or if you're agnostic or atheist, this is intelligently written for anyone willing to give it a chance.  And, in these times, kind of acts as a pillow for your life, one you may not think you needed.

This is Smooth Gravy that'll go down quite good.

Kamikaze (HBO Max)

 I'm a big fan of 'Real Time With Bill Maher'.  The guy's sharp, witty and funny about most of the subject matter he discusses, and whether you agree with him or not, his intelligent musings on the subject matter du jour will make you think.  A lot of the guests he has on I have no idea who they are, but, they always wind up being worthy of attention.  Even if you disapprove of their viewpoints.

I set my PVR to record an extra hour when I plan to watch it, because sometimes the scheduling runs over or not quite on time.  After I watched the finale for this season, up pops a show called 'Kamikaze'.  I thought what the heck, give it a shot.  HBO produces some really good stuff.  It's only half-hour episodes, and they play them two at a time, back to back.  Boy, was I in for a treat.

It's a foreign language series starring a cast of whom all of I'd never seen before.  Never heard of the makers of it, nothing familiar at all.  Which made this feel like a deep dive into something unknown.  Little did I know how deep this would be.  It follows a young 18 year old woman in Denmark, who crashes a small plane by herself into the desert and winds up surviving.  She looks a bit beat up, her head shaven, and you'd be led to believe that perhaps she actually perished in the crash.  I don't want to give too much away.

This is a non-linear story, that explains as it goes how Julie came to arrive in such a precarious pickle.  The narrative is jumbled, with the sequence of events laid out in order of how Julie would tell them.  The present time is her in the desert, alone with her crashed plane, with her recording what might be left of her life journalistically on a cell phone.  

Her plane crashed on purpose, as she tried to commit suicide but ultimately failed.  Her mother, father and brother - all of her family - died in a plane crash in Rwanda, leaving her alone with a huge house that could be a mansion, and inheriting everything.  But money can't buy back her family; nor can it alleviate her crushing sorrow, so she sets out to do herself in.  

The first episode is very dark and sad at times, all within just a half hour, as the storyteller attempts to set the tone for the series.  I'm only four episodes in right now, waiting for more, and this thing is impossible to predict as to what happens next.  Julie takes you on the journey by the hand, and pretty much handcuffs herself to you, because you can't look away or stop watching, as you find yourself needing to know what's going to happen next.  This is compelling, unorthodox storytelling at its best.  Clearly made on a low budget, but so rich looking, and with a deft touch for realism in the face of the plasticity of Hollywood, it challenges you to look beyond what you might expect, and rewards you with its results.

'Kamikaze' is not a show for young ones.  And it's damn Smooth Gravy.

Docs: Woodstock 99: Peace, Love and Rage (HBO Max)

 Flipping through the programs that our Crave network collection of shows was offering here in Canada, I came across Woodstock 99:  Peace, Love and Rage.  I thought I could get a look at how things went at this particular chapter in the Woodstock saga, since I'd seen a lot about the first in the sixties and the '94 offering.  

I hadn't quite realized how absolutely wildly this affair had failed.  Half a million people showed up in Rome, New York at an abandoned U.S. Air Force base, which you might think is rather fitting for a Woodstock show to take place at, being the antithesis of war and conflict that these festivals initially became known for.  Instead, though, it turned out to be somewhat prophetic of what was to happen when the bands started playing.

I hadn't seen such a hellish looking gathering of music fans before I saw this.  It literally looked like hell at times, especially as the weekend of this event progressed (...digressed?).  At times I couldn't believe what I was seeing.  There were a wide variety of acts from most genres, some of which had no business being at what was supposed to be a peaceful gathering of music lovers convening for a weekend of entertainment.  The middle day of the event was perhaps the most harrowing, featuring hard rock and metal bands combining for a toxic soup of aggression that flirted with hatred and destruction on near-epic levels.  Put Metallica, Limp Bizkit, Rage Against the Machine and Kid Rock together on one bill, and what would you expect to get?  Metallica and Rage are respectable enough acts, but even they seemed challenged to restrain themselves from dipping their fingers into what was to become a cesspool of mayhem.  I'll say this about Limp Bizkit and Kid Rock -- I never liked them before, but I pretty much hate them now.  They made ample contributions to premium White Trash Rock that pretty much set the standard for how hopeless the metal genre can be with the wrong audience.  And this audience, virtually colorless, young and pretentious, was priming to let loose any inhibitions and lawlessness, because it was clear that they could get away with it.  This is 'Lord of the Flies' with a modern adult setting.  

It wasn't without its bright spots, though.  James Brown, the band Live, Korn, and The Offspring seemed to put on admirable sets.  Offspring in particular came off to me as heroes calling out audience members for groping crowdsurfing half naked girls, telling the women to grab the balls of any guys who crowdsurfed themselves to turn the tables.  Alanis Morrissette and Jewel seemed a bit puzzled at how to handle the steadily increasing hostile audience.  Some commentary is provided by Moby, who inherited prominent bad vibes from the crowd and bolted from the venue immediately after his set out of fear for their safety.  It was more than a bit scary to see humanity unleashed in all its fury without any control to restrain their ugly behavior.  It looked like a literal war zone at times.

Perhaps one of the biggest disappointments for me came when the Red Hot Chili Peppers had their set and came off stage with all the mayhem, with sound and lighting towers set ablaze and toppling to the ground to rabid cheers all over.  One of the promoters begged singer Anthony Kiedis to distract the crowd to try to quell the violence; only to see RHCP go back onstage amidst the hell that was happening and play "Fire" from Jimi Hendrix.  

Corporate greed plays a big part in this story, with overpriced food, and water that was the same price as a beer.  There was a lot of money to be made by virtually stealing from this audience, and once the people began to clue in how much the promoters didn't give a shit about them, they responded in kind, tenfold.  Perhaps deservedly.  The film opens your eyes to what the culture of the late 90's was actually like.  I was left thinking that I underestimated how ugly things were in that age at that time.

It's  not easy to watch at times, but this is pretty Smooth Gravy for a doc.

Christopher Nolan movie universe?

 Recently, 'Inception' was on one of the movie channels, and since there were no commercials - I won't watch a movie on network TV - I decided to watch it.  With subtitles/captions.  

I've been doing this lately, watching the more challenging shows with captions.  It was revelatory for me upon re-watching 'Star Trek Discovery' and 'Picard', so I decided to expand the horizons a little.  We watched 'Tenet' after having seen it twice, once in the theatre and once on streaming.  After seeing it in the theatre, I was left disappointed.  I thought it was a storytelling mess, albeit cosmetically a very well-put together one, and I scratched my head for a day or two and moved on.  

Seeing it then on streaming, I turned on the subtitles option and read along with the movie.  Holy crap, let me tell you, what a difference.  It's still confusing, but not confusing as hell, and it left me wanting to see it again.  This weekend, I'm going to do just that.  Add to this that we just re-watched 'Inception' the same way, and then I stumbled upon This Article that explains a whole lot about it, with links throughout that lead you to ponder a ton of things about the story.  One HUGE one being, could it be possible that 'Inception', 'Interstellar' and 'Tenet' connected?  Bloody hell man, I think they just might be.  

When seeing 'Inception' again last weekend, I felt like it was the first time I watched it.  And I've seen it at least ten times.  I can't begin to tell you how eye-opening it is to watch shows like this with subtitles; perhaps because your brain is processing both what it's hearing as well as reading.  There were several Eureka moments, both with that and 'Tenet'.  Now I'm going to have to watch 'Interstellar' for the umpteenth time - with pleasure - with subtitles too, to see what I may have missed there.  Plus, if you care to read the article mentioned, see what connections there may be to form what may be an imminent and gloriously well thought out potential Nolan-verse that would certainly compare to, possibly surpass, the Marvel Cinematic Universe (which, for me, is getting pretty bloated lately; though I'm stoked to see the new Spiderman installment).  

I've previously expressed that I was disappointed in 'Tenet', but it would be unfair to give up on this giant puzzle of a story without giving it a much closer look.  If this 'universe' becomes what it may look like it could, it'll be tough to match for any filmmaker around today.  I recommend not giving up on this puzzle if you still have all the pieces not yet placed.

Smooth Gravy

Books: "We're All Animals" - Mima

Life rarely takes us on journeys we're able to predict.  Such is the case with protagonist Chase Jacobs in Mima's 2016 book, "We're All Animals", which follows the life of a small town boy-turned-man in Alberta, Canada, where he tries to control the steering wheel that is is life, yet frequently gets jammed into the ruts in the road that steer him to places he hadn't anticipated.

Mima does a good job at jarring the readers out of their complacency, regularly throwing curveballs where they're not expected, and like a yoyo, dips them into chillier waters that shocks them out their expectations.  Small town life can certainly be boring.  That is, until you peel the layers off, and find out things that are going on that make you say to yourself, "that couldn't happen here, though."  Except, it can.

Small town life in Hennessy, Alberta is projected as typically drab on the surface, and as Mima walks you around the locales there, you don't realize she's looping her lasso around you slowly as she prepares to jerk you in directions you don't anticipate.  Taboo subjects like the underground porn industry and sex parties dot the landscape between Hennessy and Calgary in her story, where she dares introduce multiple minority characters in a typically conservative region of Canada.  The earlier section of the story lightly paints the background of the lives of Chase and his small circle of friends that shape the foundation for what becomes a kind of story of Murphy's Law, where our would-be boxer hero is confronted with life choices that seem to resemble no-win situations.  But what Mima is trying to convey here, is that life in general is a no-win situation, and you have to accept the hand you're dealt and make the best of it.

Ultimately, we're all slaves to our own primal urges, especially in our youth, and Mima frequently challenges her readers with the fact that none of us has it easy, and that our animalistic instincts, for better or worse, wind up forcing us to make decisions on the fly.  To question your own moral behavior isn't the point as much as to accept it, and make the most of it.

By the time Chase leaves Hennessy and is Calgary bound, his sense of uneasiness about the move is somewhat calmed by a character named Jolene, who turns out to be the scene stealer in the story.  Charming with a definite undercurrent of sexuality bubbling under, she somewhat mentors Chase into the role that will be his new life, with many shades of grey.  By the time her brother Diego enters the picture towards the latter part of the story, the dice in the Yahtzee cup is shaken up even harder, and again makes you question the actions of our hero from earlier on.

The women in the book appear mainly reactive to events that take place, namely in the small town setting; whereas when it shifts to the city, things get darker and even more complicated.  It's fun to watch Chase navigate his way through how to handle the women in his life, and whether or not he'll be the one in control of his own destiny.  Maggie, his early love, is the toughest nut to crack, leaving you to wonder what her motives are until a rather big reveal about 2/3 of the way into the story.  Her sister enters the picture to complicate matters, along with his questionable choices of employment.  In fact, there are several 'big reveals' that upend your expectations of where you think the story is going.  

Life is unpredictable, and truth is stranger than fiction... unless you allow fiction to be infiltrated by the truth itself, something that Mima deftly understands.

This is Good Gravy with some real spiciness added to it.

Pick up "We're All Animals" by Mima wherever you buy books such as Amazon, Chapters, etc.

Movies: "Suicide Squad 2021"

When the first 'Suicide Squad' movie came out back in '16, I had guarded expectations.  David Ayer was in the director's chair, not exactly a seasoned pro at this particular role in movies.  The plot was kind of weird and disjointed, and the villain was a bit of a joke.  Jared Leto's 'Joker' in the film was a bit half-baked, without much of a backstory on himself, much less the screen time granted.  Will Smith's 'Deadshot' character was arguably the only one with any real depth.  And in my own opinion, Margot Robbie's 'Harley Quinn' was a bit overrated here, but she garnered the most attention of anyone from the film.

This second chapter of 'Suicide Squad' is an attempt at improving upon the original, with the likes of John Cena and Idris Elba on board, joining the returning Robbie and Viola Davis.  Directing this time is James Gunn, who was at the time of making the movie kicked off of Marvel's 'Guardians of the Galaxy' for a lack of wokeness from a social media post years ago.  So he went to Warner Bros. and did this instead.  And boy, can you ever see a difference in an unleashed James Gunn production once he gets away from his Disney-approved fare.  

'Suicide Squad' 2021's success was at the mercy of a raging Covid catastrophe that hit movie theatres, and the timing couldn't have been a lot worse.  People expecting more of the same from the earlier entry of the movie would be shocked to discover this being, essentially, a hard 'R' rated Guardians, with lots of blood, gore, dark humor and colorful language liberally sprinkled over the length of the production.  Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.  But what it does succeed in doing once it's all over (including some Marvel-esque post-credit scenes) is providing adults - read, NOT kids - a big, fun, colorful summertime popcorn movie that completely removes you from real world problems, and takes you into a deep dive of silliness that leaves you shaking your head at times, until you realize that this is largely satire, a la 'RoboCop', in its storytelling style.  This is one of the hardest 'R' ratings I've ever seen put to any film, whether it be drama, horror, sci fi, whatever.  I think upon repeat viewing it would improve, because the first time you see it, you might not be prepared for what you're about to watch.

The new standout characters are the Sly Stallone voiced 'King Shark', with the big-dumbness of his character eliciting much-needed laughs within the darkness of the story, Idris Elba's heroic 'Bloodsport', and John Cena's 'Peacemaker', all of whom conflict with one another in the spirit of the franchise.  If any of the Squad happen to screw up, they're at risk of literally getting their heads blown off at the push of a button via Amanda Waller, their boss, who monitors their actions during their mission.  At the beginning of the movie, you can see she's serious about the rules.  The Squad winds up bumbling here and there in their task, but make it to the kaiju-inspired finale of the film, where all hell breaks loose when a ginormously-sized evil Patrick from Spongbob Squarepants threatens to take things over.  There are more than a few tips of the hat to the 'Alien' franchise here, with a healthy dose of humor injected within.

This isn't a show for the squeamish, it must be warned.  It's a very unorthodox premise and plot, executed with a very free hand in Gunn, that maybe stumbles the most with its rather unfamiliar soundtrack choices.  But that's a rather minor quibble in a mostly jovial, gross, kickass romp.

'Suicide Squad' 2021 is Smooth Gravy, with the odd lump.

Fuel for 'The Station'...

 It would appear that last post here on Ragnar caused a small stir among friends and family.  I see why.  If I were to see someone write something like that on their blog, in retrospect, I would be alarmed too.  So for that, I'm sorry to anyone I may have frightened.

That being said, I kind of reconsidered things and resolved to take another shot here.  Especially since I left off the way I did.  I think I would be irresponsible if I didn't try to fix it.

Let me explain as to how I got to where I was, at that time.  I was taking appointments from a therapist over the phone.  Three in total.  The deal here is, these appointments cost $140 per hour, and I have coverage that would apply for three of them.  Basically, it was a trial run, so to speak.  Janice sat in with me as I took them, because when it comes to verbally talking about myself, I get this block that's often hard to overcome; thus, Janice fills in the spaces.  The first two appointments were okay.  I wouldn't consider them groundbreaking by any means, but Janice seemed impressed, and that this was an improvement over the in-person sessions I'd taken a few years back (I disagreed, though).  On the second session, I suggested to my therapist that this person would check out this very page, where I post about my ordeal with mental health issues.  Indeed, it provides a journal of sorts to any medical professional to get a bit of a deeper insight into what's going on in my head.

I also asked Janice that we wait for three weeks between appointments for me to process what I'd just talked about, because it isn't easy to do.  To a normal person, it's not a big deal.  But for the self-conscious, like me, it's quite an undertaking.  Those three weeks had passed, and at the end of that second session, I told my therapist I'd send them a link to my page, after I was sent an e-mail from them that I was told contained exercises and reading material that I could use to study.  First thing... I never once got an e-mail at any time from this person.  Second of all, I never got a way to send them a link to this page.  Thirdly, when I asked again on the third session, this person said it would be rectified and send me an e-mail so I could reply with the link.

I never got an e-mail.  And they never read my page.  But they sure had no problem taking my $140.

This is coupled with an incident that happened in my personal life that I will not divulge, because I won't do that kind of thing here anymore.  But on one night, I took off into the cold Saturday evening air and disappeared for three hours.  Those who know me know that when I'm in mental or emotional distress, I often run off without any kind of notice.  On this cold November night, that's what I did.  Along my journey, I proceeded to strike myself in the face, on my left eye.  Over and over.  It hurt a lot, but not as much as the hurt I felt inside - thus, I was trying to drown out the pain on the inside with the pain on the outside.  That's what many self-harmers do.  It's the wrong way to go about fixing things, but with a compromised state of mind, like mine, many urges can't be stopped.  And this night, I couldn't.  

I stopped by an overpass along my way, and looked over, timing the speeding cars along the highway, as I wondered when would be the best time for a person to jump.  It would be quick, final, and OVER.  All the pain outside and inside would be extinguished.  Until the thought of the aftermath occurred to me, thank God, of how it would wreck the lives of so many connected to me.  I've been in this place before, pondering putting an end to everything.  Being the last to arrive and the first to leave in my family.  The underachiever being plucked out of the Cook family, leaving the pride of the rest.  "Wait, Mike, there's still hope.  Tomorrow's another day.  You're smart, you work hard, you're loyal and dedicated, and you're continuously open to learning.  It will get better!"

Those thoughts did NOT run through my head.  Nor did anyone say them, without any meaning behind them, anyway.  Why?  Because I'm sick, for fuck's sake.  I'm mentally ill.  I've tried everything.  Everything!  In 1991, my world began to fall apart.  I lost my career job only months after I started it.  I lost pretty well all my friends, for various reasons.  My love relationship fell apart.  I had to go back to working midnight shifts at a corner store.  I was vaulted out of the house I lived in, because after bringing my mother to a multitude of doctor's appointments out of worry for her abnormal behavior, it was discovered she had dementia, and had to move into a home.  My grandmother's health was deteriorating.  And not long after all of this, I lost my job at the store, too.  The grand shining light of it all is, that it was my boss from the corner store that took me in.  That boss was Janice.  As I fell from the tower of happiness that was the late 80's, Janice was there with a giant inflatable pillow to catch my fall.  If she wasn't, well......

I've been mentally ill since 1980.  I only came to terms with it in 1996, when Alexandra was born.  I've been reaching out for help ever since.  Along with Janice, Zoloft saved my life, via a doctor who was willing to listen.  But drugs are not a cure-all for what I deal with.  I sought a psychiatrist from '96 onward, only to see one maybe ten years ago, or less.  I went for these strip-mall psychiatrist appointments that seemed to yield no real results.  In fact, as I've written here before, I was dropped from that office.  Look, one thing a desperately ill mental patient does NOT need, is to be rejected by his own doctor!  But it happened.  A great number of things happened over the last ten years to compound my situation.  Many of which I'll take the blame for.  Some of which I can't.  Nevertheless, here it is, 2022, and I'm still standing.  I look at all this and I can say to myself, "I'm a fuckin' WARRIOR."  

But man, is it tough.  After breaking down at work at every job I've ever had, I was faced with the question Janice and my doctor posed to me.... "should you be on disability?"  My doctor more or less insisted 'yes'.  Janice is on the side that if I go back to work, a day could surely come where I might not come home.  But I love to work!  Even if the job sucks, I still like doing something that I accomplish.  The problem is, that workplaces are generally toxic to people with conditions like mine.  Especially in the environment of general employment today.  I just can't seem to handle work-related pressure anymore.   AND I HATE IT.

Now, after having had those three therapy sessions on the phone, which I'll never do again by the way, I came to the conclusion after the last one - that if I can't even pay a person to care about what's going on with me, what chance at all do I have at managing this??  I didn't hear back from my therapist after I didn't bother to book a follow-up.  So I was deserted again.  How much more of this is a person who's sick supposed to endure before something irreversibly terrible happens, like what could have taken place at that overpass that night?  

So then, I posted that last blog, perhaps out of desperation, announcing the despair I felt after that last fruitless round of therapy appointments, and mishandling of certain issues.  My intent in that post was to insinuate that one day, I see myself winding up dead due to my own carelessness.  It's nearly happened so many times in my life, I lost count.  How many bullets can I really dodge?

By the time December came around, I did resolve a few things to Janice... that I will not intentionally harm myself anymore, nor will I do myself in.  Ultimately, why self harm?  What in the bloody hell good does it do?  Immediately, it brings balance to my emotions.  I focus more on physical pain than the emotional side of it.  Thing is, when the emotional pain at least somewhat dissipates, I'm left with the physical.  In that last case, a pretty big black eye.  And what good does that do?  Nothing.  Except it's a constant reminder to people around me that I might wind up doing worse the next time.  Perhaps the next time could be the last time, ever.  The worst that self harm does, is the harm that it emotionally inflicts on others.  Primarily my wife.  I can't do that to her anymore.  I'm lucky she's stuck with me.  I often call her My Angel, because I believe everyone has one, and angels never leave.  I'm extremely fortunate to have one in the physical sense, that I can see and touch, and love.  Why would you do any kind of harm to an angel?  HOW could you?

With that all in mind, I began something radically different.  In addition to my taking THC oil, which is a godsend to me when I feel off, I came upon an article on CTV's W5 about psychedelic therapy, with the likes of things like ketamine and psilocybin.  Ketamine treatment is intravenous, and I don't believe it's available around here where I live.  But psilocybin is a different story.  Known mostly as 'magic mushrooms', where it comes from, there are capsules you can buy where you can microdose with it, activating areas of the brain that aren't normally regularly in motion.  People in the W5 article swore up and down that it was the best thing that happened to them in treatment.  It's interesting to note that in 1996, when I nearly died a few times from being unknowingly infected with mould poisoning, I just happened to stumble upon an article on W5 that perfectly described what I was dealing with, where doctors could not for the life of them (or mine) figure out what was wrong with me.  Many thought I was faking!  But that article cleared things up for me about my health.  Now here I am, 25 years later, and another W5 article is pointing me in another direction.  

Up to today, psilocybin is showing great promise.  I've been very slowly weaning off of anti-depressants, completely off of Wellbutrin that I've been taking in conjunction with Zoloft, of which I've decreased by 66%.  But I've been down this road before, and I know that chances are, I'll be unsuccessful.  But this is the most optimistic I've felt in a while.  The kicker being that psilocybin and THC oil is completely natural.  Studies are actually taking place that are exploring that psilocybin may actually repair the parts of the brain that are affected by mental illness.  Moreover, that ongoing treatment might not even be necessary.  Some doctors are even wondering if it could combat dementia.  But this is all in the early stages of study.   

It would help, also, if it could be covered by drug plans, which is an uphill battle, because then pharmacy companies couldn't make much, if anything, off of it, similar to vitamins.  So, that's going to come out of our own pockets.  It doesn't really help that I haven't been getting any assistance financially in lieu of my work absence.  I haven't had any kind of coverage for my lack of work since August.  Revenue Canada told me I had to apply for Disability Insurance.  We did, in November - after I swallowed a TON of pride, and we've gotten no response.  They won't even answer our calls or e-mails.  I realize this is the age of covid, but come on.  I've been ill for decades.  If someone with covid needs treatment, they'll get treated immediately.   Do you know how frustrating that is to somebody like me?  Somebody who's been outspokenly begging for help?  It's supposed to be "Brave" for men like me to reach out for help with mental illness and assistance because of it.  I've learned that this bravery gets you no-fucking-where.  It gets you ignored, in fact.

So I guess I'll just have to self-medicate and keep praying that I'll get the professional help I allegedly deserve.  But why do I feel UNdeserving?  

Oh right, because that's the way the system makes me feel.

Maybe I should go out there without a mask and party and get covid.  I know I'll get medical attention then.  Then again, I'm vaccinated.  I can't friggin' win!

But let's see what I can do with 2022.

Thank you for reading, caring, and communicating.  I know I'm not always very easy to deal with.  And I'm sorry.

On a side note, when Lent season comes along, I'll be off social media.  But I will be active here and at my review page The Gravy Pot.  If you choose to comment, the comments are subject to approval, but only to keep spammers out.  Don't forget to tell me who you are.

Have a great year.  It can't get much worse than the last two for any of us!