Autobiography of a Madman
I might as well begin this story from the very beginning. I don't recall
happened before my sixth birthday, but my mother said that I was born with
and a hole in one ear, of course the cataracts were removed right away.
At six or maybe before, my parents worked as caretakers in an adults only
was the only exception, no other kids were allowed in. As my parents worked
hours of the day all days of the week, I was alone most of the time. I
ever having a babysitter.
Before starting school I remember somewhat walking into a doctors office
glancing at a chart. The doctor gave me an eye exam and I read the chart;
the one in
my head. I had a photographic memory. I knew reading and arithmetic before
started school, probably from my mother as my father pretty much ignored
At school I felt like an outsider and kept to myself. I could barely see
the teacher let
alone know what she was doing, I might not of heard her very well either.
Seeing as I
didn't know what the teacher was doing and that I could read I taught myself.
the teacher saw that I was that I was doing work far beyond the rest of
the class she
gave me a lecture. That lecture hindered my over achieving. When the school
I.Q. exams they started calling me lazy, they're not satisfied either way,
I get a head
of the class and I'm told off, If I hold back I'm lazy, a genius, but lazy.
By the middle of grade three the school gave an eye exam. I couldn't see
They moved me half way up and I could make out the top letter. Naturally
I had to
have glasses, one more thing that made me an outcast. There was yet another
to make me feel like a alien, I had psychic abilities concerning death,
inherited from my mother's side. I new when any of our relatives died,
I even new
when a close pet had died. Because I already new I didn't show any emotion
they told me, which was alright as neither my father nor his father showed
either. In fact neither of them talked about anything except themselves.
I think I had
already started reading about meditation and mind control by then.
Next, lets skip to my teens. By then I had the mind control thing down
physically and emotionally I couldn't feel anything. My peers started noticing
experimenting on me to see if they could make me feel something. But I
out that totally controlling your anger isn't safe. I blew for only a minor
picked up a friend over my head and slammed him down on a picket fence,
proceeded to put my knee on his back and hold him there. There wee two
our friends there but they couldn't pull me off until I cooled down. I
whole instance but during the act the only thing going through my mind
That was only the first time I blew, the second time I totally blacked
out except the
word kill before the black out. When I came to my friend was shaking like
a leaf, he
said that I picked up a fairly heavy chair by the bottom of one leg, lifted
it high in the
air, and brought it down where his head was a half second before. The impact
deep indent in the floor. After that I realized I had to release some pressure,
when I was alone. I haven't had any problems with my temper since then.
Continuing on, with my so called coolness and my sense of humor I managed
all right with the girls. Thinking it was cool I never turned any of them
whether or not they were suppose to be with my friends or not, I didn't
consider anyone my friend. I also thought it was a waste of time to go
out with a girl
more than twice if I didn't get what I wanted. One time I went out with
a nice girl and
we had a lovely time making out. She told her friend that she liked me
a lot. The
next day she and I along with my friend and his girl friend were suppose
to go to a
special spot at lunch time. My friend was driving so we went to pick up
first. When we got there she had a friend of her own who they put in the
with me. Bad thing to do, it wasn't long before I had my arm around her.
picked up my girlfriend. First there was a look of surprise quickly replaced
by a look
of sadness that I'll never forget. I couldn't say anything or look at anyone
after that. I
remembered how sweet she was the night before, and that I really did like
her a lot.
Six months later I seen her again, she still hadn't got over me, and I
ashamed to even apologize let alone ask her out. Since that time I've never
with anyone I cared for as they deserved a lot better than me. Also since
that day I
started drinking heavier and heavier.
By now the only way I could go on was with mind control, alcohol, and drugs.
my moods were changing from depression to manic even without booze or drugs.
Sometimes I got so depressed I would seclude myself for weeks at a time
paying attention to whether I bathed or ate. At one point I was getting
and the doctor said I was suffering from malnutrition. The first time I
was manic I
was sure I was the antichrist. At another time I thought I could heal people
hands. Of course there were spending sprees.
Finally, a diagnosis, during a very
deep withdrawal period I had to see a government
official, a work counselor. Within five minutes she was on the phone to
health, and set an appointment for the same day. The mental health counselor
decided to put me in a day program instead of locking me up. The doctor
put me on
Sumontil. A little latter I was referred to a psychiatrist who liked dishing
prescriptions; he added Ativan, Seconal, and Xanix. I needed the Antivan
was having just about constant anxiety attacks since I left my safe refuge,
and had to
walk on crowded sidewalks, ride crowded buses, and go to a crowded day
where I spent most of the first month sitting in the corner away from everyone
needed the tranquilizers because I was only getting two to four hours sleep
nights. Once I started getting a little closer to the group without a panic
another member came to me as he thought I seemed a lot like him. He was
diagnosed as manic depressive, and I was diagnosed as major depressive,
but we did
seem to like the same things and were soon out gambling together.
I was probably swinging the other way but was still being treated for major
depression. I was in a bit of a fog with all this sedating medications
so I started
reducing it with out telling the doctors. As well, my father was sending
and pain killers like Talwens that he couldn't take. Even though I was
sedatives and sleeping pills down I was finding myself in places that I
remember going to. I also found things I had bought and put in weird places,
didn't remember buying let alone why I bought them. Living in this unreal
world was getting to be too much. I had a killer cocktail thanks to my
happy psychiatrist and my father. When my daughter said she was staying
at a friends
house, it was time to take action. First, I went to the liquor store and
strongest cider they had. When I got home I took every prescription I could
whether I knew what it was or not, and poured them in a mug. The mug must
been at least three-quarters full. I put on a heavy music song that talked
suicide, I can't remember name or group--daughter destroyed it. Sat back
in my easy
chair with the cider beside me and the mug in my hand. I started gulping
I woke up in the hospital puking up blood, seems my daughter came home
some reason. My doctor was there, but he just gave me a dirty look and
even though it was 2:30 am.. Soon after that I gradually went off the antidepressants,
they wouldn't give me anything else anyway. Then I left the city.
I was fairly healthy for ten years until Christmas 1992. Just before Christmas
mother phoned asking me to visit her, which was unlike her to ask for anything
herself. I told her I was too busy, which was a lie, I just wanted to party.
day my brother phoned to tell me that she had died in her sleep. My brother
gathered up all of her things and left within two days. I knew my father
care of himself so I went down to move him back to where I was living so
I could look
after him even though he never looked after me or cared what happened to
helped my brother a lot more. Actually we are only half brothers, same
depression was gradually returning.
By 1994, We decided to move back to the coast, where I grew up, and my
spent most of her growing years. My father also liked the idea because
most of the
family is buried in Victoria and my brother for some reason had my mothers
When we got here of course my father wanted to phone my brother who lives
Victoria. My brother told him flat out that he didn't want either of us
near him. My father lived until 1996, my brother paid him a visit for about
a hour just
before he died.
I managed to hold on until early 1997 when the depression became to much
so I told my doctor, and he put me on Prozac. I think it was the mental
health that got
me into the evening group at the hospital. The group had a psychiatrist,
and he took
me as a patient. It must of been about five months when I had a severe
and was put in the hospital for a week. When I seen my psychiatrist after
that I told
him how high I was before the attack, and he finally got the true picture.
He took me
off Prozac, and put me on Eptival ( Valproic Acid ) as well as Zoiclone
when I told him
I was getting up around three or four in the morning.
Since then, the psychiatrist has added Clonazepam, increased the Eptival
a day, and experimented with first Trazodone and now Wellbutrin. I am in
better shape than I've ever been. My lows don't last too long, as I follow
advice with the exercise and deep breathing, and I usually can handle the
the mixed moods that seem to be the scariest and hardest to control, because
I hope you didn't mind reading the
ravings of a madman. I created this site, with help
from Kathi, to help people like ourselves, and I hope it will help you.
Best of luck to you from another face in the dark, Bruce
Visit Bruce at any of the following
Or EMAIL Me