I Never Told The Shrinks

I have mentioned elsewhere in this blog that I had a major depressive episode with planning level suicidal ideation in the nineties. I knew where to source the syringes (Aldrich) and the heroin that I would need. I saw a few dealers operating in Brixton.  I could order the syringes on my chemistry research account.  I, like so many others, was on the green and whites. I saw various psychologists, counsellors  and the odd psychiatrist or two. They asked me loads of questions but I never told any of them about the Kafue river. The problem is that my IQ is on the high side and fatuous questions get fatuous answers.

I have over the years wondered if there was some delayed onset PTSD. I can certainly be a bit self destructive.

Back before WOKE, being a nutter, a loony, was stigmatised. I have wondered if my mental health diagnosis detrimentally affected my career.

Is he well? Will he be sane enough to bring in the research dosh? Can we safely promote him yet?

But the criteria are not fixed….

I certainly meet criterion A.

I wonder if I had told the shrinks would I have become a “lab rat”?

When I had B12 defficiency because of my veganism, the dudes a St Thomas’ Hospital did loads of experiments because I was willing. I had radioactive urine for several weeks.

Some element of PTSD, I think was at work, the heightened flight/fight was aback the anxiety..

Anyway, time to baste the chicken…I am hungry after this morning’s walk.