Mind Freedom International is a non-profit human rights organization working to change the mental health system. MFI is a non-violent activist group that advocates for truth, freedom, equality, and human rights in the mental health system!
I thought it would be a good idea to mention this organisation. In scouting about the web for organisations that could support psychiatry victims I landed upon this US-Based organisation and signed up to their newsletters and updates. I get a nice little letter through the post every so often. They take a proactive approach to patient support and although I haven’t directly used their services, it has been an intention to get involved somehow. I especially like the way they support campaigns for inpatients who are right in the mire of detention and enforced treatment. They operate worldwide and have branches throughout, even in Africa. I won’t witter on and on as it is their job to discuss their mission and goals. Surf over to their site and see for yourself. It is a valuable resource and will assist in achieving the End Of Terror.
Fighting for Truth and Justice and the End of Tyranny and Evil in Mental Health and Psychiatry
Sicknote are my mates – please support their great music!
I’ve been up all night debating about whether or not to go to the Mental Health Review Tribunal Scheduled for tomorrow at 11am at Talygarn Ward, Griffithstown Hospital, Pontypool. I have an appeal against the Community Treatment Order (CTO) that I was placed on following my discharge from Section 3 of the Mental Health Act when I was detained a few months ago. When you are placed on a section order – whether it be for hospital detainment or one of these horrible new-fangled freedom-crushing CTOs – you get the right of appeal. Well – by law and the Mental Health Act itself you should get the right of appeal. I have been through entire sections without any appeal at all. What they claim at the Tribunal Office is that they are too busy, too snowed under to process the appeal. If you are lucky enough to have one scheduled, usually it comes very late on into the section. For a six month detention under section 3 you can expect to be waiting at least 4 months for your appeal hearing. After which time you are pretty much adjusted to the inner workings of the looney bin. Not that you should ever hold out any hope whatsoever of ever winning. The Mental Health Review Tribunal (MHRT) service is there to make Mental Health look legal and just. It is a facade for public and media consumption. Yes – they’ll give you a sheet of paper when you are locked up as a patient, explaining your rights. If they say they do this it makes it a lot easier for all the politicians in Westminster or Cardiff, to vote in favour of more punitive conditions and laws for detainees as they (in the adept lying manner only politicans can really truly understand) can justify to themselves that they are acting justly and they can sleep at night. It’s all self-reassurance. Before you ever get a chance to read the slip of paper, they rip it back from you and get straight to the more pertinent and relevant to their work needle-jabbing process to drug and torture you. After several months of drowning in pools of your own drool and taking a break in your chainsmoking to slurp drool, while adopting a military like program of getting out of bed and getting back in at regimented times, you tell yourself repeatedly – “Oh – it will all be OK when I get to the Tribunal. They will see how unjustly I’ve been treated and release the shackles of my bonds and I will be able to return home to my loved ones, my possessions, my job, my life’ It is only human to think this way – Look beyond the mental health literature at the thoughts of hostages across the world. Terry Waite, John McCarthy, Ingrid Betancourt. They all can speak of how twisted your mind becomes under torturous kidnap conditions. It’s a journey of your self which is a tough, rocky road. Survival instinct kicks in and only when you are released back into the ‘real world’ do you start to heal the scars of your time of suffering.
The disappointment when you finally open the Victorian Doors to the Courtroom kicks in when you see the same old faces. The panel of three who have been appointed with the power of either freeing you from the daft silly bit of paper which they all go around decrying as ‘The Law’ or whether they should rubber stamp all that the Psychiatrist and Mental Health team have done and intend to do in the future. The retired psychiatrist who is always part of the team of three will never decide in your favour. it simply goes against the grain of all they believe in. They stick together like glue. If blood is thicker than water, a psychiatrist has treacle in his veins. The Medical Member of the ‘Independent# board will be your worst nightmare.; He will drive any shadow of debate about the situation far away as he drives the whole procedure. If the lay member or legal chairperson even show the slightest seeds of doubt, the veteran shrink will redirect their opinions, not as a judge may direct a jury, but in the most manipulative cunning manner that only a true torturer can comprehend. They set their whole system around the ideology of conditionning and as much as I despise the methodology of it, eventually, with enough sweat tears and blood it will achieve the end results. Of course conditionning is far from humane but thoughts of humanity and fundamental human rights are far far away. I’ve had maybe 30 tribunal hearings in 14.5 years. I’ve had some really clear cut cases where I have been able to prove beyond all shadow of doubt the lies and myths in the tribunal reports, with hard evidence. Yet, I have never won a tribunal, not once, not even have I come close. Ok – sounds a bit ‘poor me’ – but the paperwork is done that tightly so that all sing from the same hymn sheet, it doesn’t matter what you say or do you ain’t getting off the treatment order. Why do I bother going at all? Why do I consider going? Well – they are useful exercises as you do get to keep the specially drafted reports from your care team about your treatment. The Doctors, Nurses, Social Workers, and all else involved from the police to the public… They all have input. Usually it is the first and only time you will get to hear and understand what you are accused of. You listen to the court proceeedings and wonder who the devil they are wittering on about. It must be Satan himself, the evilness of this person’s deeds. And then you realise that it is you. They create such fiction that by the time come for you to have your say you even start believing that you are Fred West or Ian Brady, such is the power of the whole conditionning process. But – at the end of the tribunal, you get to keep the reports. You can take time to mull over them at a more convenient safe environment. You can file them away for use in future cases in real court situations like, for example, the Eruopean Court of Human Rights in Strasbourg. Kangaroo Courts will never achieve justice. The way they are set up prevents them from achieving it. They achieve their goals and they serve their purpose in this. The Care Plan gets a rubber stamp, the profiteering continues and everyone can go home satisfied that they have prevented a disaster. they are all heroes and have prevented the public from being butchered by the crazy maniacs from the mental hospital. They put on their slippers, sip their cocoa and sleep like babies. You, on the other hand, have to endure the torment of this rubber stamping and decision. It reinvigours the whole team who are treating you. They have spent so much time contructing the myth that you have rights and can achieve justice at the tribunal that they have even started to doubt themselves whether they will win. Now that they have won – they like to bask in the glory of a good victory. They put work into their reports and by heck are you going to feel the pain you have caused by resisting them in a ‘court’ situation. Why can’t you be a good boy and just accept your illness and treatment? It all works 100% – They know this as they were taught it in Universities. The nice guy from the drugs company explained how the medication is perfect and works so well for patients. It’s your damned mental illness that prevents you from seeing this and we will free you from this horrific burden. Once you get over the worst hurdle and symptom, that of DENIAL, we can at least start curing you. Not that a cure exists of course – as it says that in the textbooks also. But at the very least we can experiment until we achieve a cure and once that has been achieved then the world will be a safer and healthier place as it will be free from mental illness.
Back in the real world, you have to deal with the fallout but at least you get to keep the documentation. Next time you have an appeal you can compare notes. It’s always vastly different. Your ‘disease’ has morphed completely. A new set of symptoms, a new set of delusions, a new regime of medication and a new set of treatment conditions. When it has happened on repeat like this for years on end it just gets a bit tedious and boring. I have a tendency to get carried away in these mock court situations and kind of unleash hell – when you are surrounded by enemies in one of these hostile situations it is tricky keeping a cool head, whatever your temperament. I leave the hearing after all is done while the panel decide on a verdict and you always think to yourself ‘Oh maybe, maybe this time will be the one, maybe they will see the light and my whole nightmare will be over’ Waiting for a verdict does this to one’s mind. Whether you are innocent or guilty the waiting on a verdict is a weird situation. I’ve come to the point whereby I take the whole tribunal system as a complete joke. If you don’t recognise their authority in the first place, it doesn’t matter what they say or find or do, it won’t affect you. A bunch of tarty posh out-of-touch-with-reality former professional dogsbody dogooders can think what they want about how risky I am, it will not change my outlook or attitude or what I say or do. They harm themselves ultimately as they create a bubble for themselves, a mental cocoon which envelopes them from the real world. If you believe every Tom, Dick and Harry who is set in front of you is a murderous psychopath who is that dangerous your soul will not rest until you have treated him psychiatrically. That you are the hero of the tale. The protector of the good, the saviour of the values of society… You are building sandcastles. As much as I like to watch their pretty constructions, should someone who actually is dangerous ever come along, they won’t have the ability to recognise it. They think that harmless ordinary folk are inherently evil. They will not recognise the genuine article. He’ll be nestled inside their cocoon, devouring them and they won’t even notice. When the tide washes in I aim to be far from the swash and safely tucked away in my home on dry, hilly ground.
The tribunal was scheduled for last month when I was still an inpatient. Well – on the day of my discharge in fact. It had been a section 3 detained patient appeal. So, as psychiatrists are prone to do – it has happened to me on multiple previous occasions – if there is any doubt at all that they could lose the tribunal, thereby freeing you as a patient, from their lengthy clutches. They will do a bit of swap and shift with the legal paperwork to ensure that the victory is achieved. An unretained patient who is back in society is not a reality for them. It is totally unaccaptable. A psychiatrist would sell his own grandmother ahead of letting go a client. Without experimental material the science is dead. If a whole develops in the net and a single fish manages to get out then pretty soon the whole trawl will be void and your dinner plate will be empty. I was taken off the Section 3 that morning, discharged from hospital, put ona CTO immediately and then told that the tribunal would be addressing an appeal against this new document, still wet with ink. Yet, as the reports hadn’t been updated to reflect these new conditions at the tribunal, after all the extended waiting – formality, rigmarole and all the hoo-ha etc. The legal member just declared an immediate adjournment for updated reports. they would all go away and work and get paid preparing new ones so that justice could be achieved.
As much as I hate to see a man starve from his fish & chip supper, I have a few bigger fish to fry myself. The hospital is way up in the Welsh valleys, a good 2 hour journey from me. My university course began yesterday and I’ve had a busy week workwise, taking on several new clients. End of Terror has been launched and I’m loving the response thus far in terms of traffic and comments from my friends and supporters. I could trek about telling small pockets of strangers my woes in person, or I could tell 7 billion people on the internet the same story, For the End Of Terror to be realised I know which camp my heart lies in. Sod the tribunal, sod the verdict I shall Phone In Sick. Meanwhile I shall blog my merry heart out and see if I can help in bringing about fundamental change, not just for myself as an individual, but for the people today across the planet and more importantly, leave a blueprint for the children of tomorrow so that they understand what mistakes their ancestors have made. Real change is built one brick at a time. The sea will wash in and out every day and those sandcastles are never left standing. The End Of Terror is sat there, perched, on high ground, where the echo of the waves are nowt but a distant whisper.
Yesterday was the due date of my scheduled home visit from the psychiatric services. I have a new male Irish nurse, David, and one of the former female CPN’s, Sharon… I do not seek treatment in any way but as I am under one of these new-fangled Community Treatment Orders, I am compelled to receive these unwanted guests in my home. I have learnt over the years that no matter how pleasant you are to these people, they always rear up and bite you in the neck when you least expect it. It always ends up in tears, your tears, as they cart you off to the nuthouse, lock you down and drug and torture you for months on end. They always begin the same, explaining their petty mission statements and decrying how their sole aim in life in to prevent you being hospitalised. I sound, perhaps, a little sceptical of the system, to the non-inductee, but it’s just being frank. The harsh reality is that if their aim is to keep everyone out of hospital they’ll be out of jobs.
I am not a naturally hostile person – but toe to toe with the enemy I will react verbally, especially when in the comfort of my own home. Perhaps the creation of the End Of Terror Organisation has me on edge and fired up a little more than usual. Anyway, pretty soon into the session, I hear myself being repeatedly accused of ‘lacking courtesy’. It’s so typical of these ill-educated drones, to take a poshish sounding word, and twist its meaning completely. I call it psychiatry doublespeak. It must come out in the training and indoctrination of mental health workers. the lexicon of mental health workers is bizarre to say the least. They hammer on and on, repeating accusations of you fulfilling some negative criteria, twisting the meaning of the word from its actual meaning and using it in a special mental health way. It always is done to satisfy their most basic of needs, to prove that they are mentally superior to you as a human and that you are mentally inferior. They went on babbling ‘lacking courtesy’ and then went into their more typical recent finger-pointing accusations of me ‘intimidating’ them. Apparently my music-making and poker-playing intimidated them a couple of months ago and since then, every thing I say or do or they imagine me to say or do is designed for intimidating them as individuals and as part of a wider organisation. I tried explaining what intimidation meant to me. I said it conjured up images of Italian Street Mafia in New York extorting money from shopkeepers for protection. That to me is intimidation. Or maybe it is the action of an aggressive drunk in a pub? I was told that I was still lacking courtesy when trying to point out their linguistic fallacies. ‘Why should I be courteous? I don’t want to be seeing you – You force yourselves upon me. If you are uncomfortable, simply don’t come around….’ While on the point of linguistics I tried hammering home my opinions of the definition of healthcare , medicine and doctors… One seeks treatment from doctors to get advice on health matters which one can then choose to accept or reject and act accordingly depending on their own views. Health care should not be enforced at gunpoint upon people who neither seek or choose it. Like a red rag to a bull, when you criticise their belief system, we went back to my lack of courtesy and how it demonstrates I am ‘mentally ill’ They were there as the law says they have to be there. They are good people doing their job, keeping evil me away from all the harm I cause the public and community. They went on to say that they would get the psychiatrist to enforce by law that I had to be courteous to them from now on. They would make it part of the conditions of my Community Treatment Order. I just chuckled at their whole misinterpretation of law and what is actually legally allowed. Since when has discourtesy become an offence? I asked on whose authority the psychiatrist could do this, on what grounds and who appointed him with such powers. – ‘Oh The Queen did… She signed off the Act of Parliament making it lawful’ – You see – the legal can of worms is vast… Lacking courtesy is not a criminal offense in Britain, but these automatons have a very limited understanding of what is legal and what isn’t. Human Rights Law is overwritten by the Mental Health Act according to the mental health indoctrination for workers. The Mental Health Act gives any of them any power to do anything they like, including deciding whether me being rude becomes a criminal offense. Of course, I’m on shady ground as they can lock me up at any stage and as they have done in the past, can do at any stage in the future. When the horse bolts, the stable door cannot withstand the pressure and the system wheels in motion have you carted off before you can muster up a whisper of resistance. I was told that all I was doing was philosophising, how they were simply individuals, doing their jobs, accepting orders from above and complying with the law.
I’m just trying to rebuild the wall, one brick at a time. These mental health workers are so indoctrinated with their false belief system, all I am trying to do is help them adjust back into reality. I have studied them closely for well over a decade, listening to them bark on how mentally inferior I am, and trying to understand what drives them. It’s as though that in taking up their profession they are forced to renounce any previous traces of humanity, to become total automatons, pilotless drones carrying out bombing missions in Afghanistan. ‘Do not question the leadership, do as instructed from above at any cost. You are mentally superior to these ‘sick’ people you treat. Do not let them get into your heads. Any sign of resistance from them must be punished.’
I tried explaining that I was trying to help them. the train is off the track on this windy out of control system. They’ve forgotten which carriage contains the controls. the only way the mental health system will ever change is when those within force that change themselves. When I say those within, I don’t include myself. Yes, I’m a patient, but in addition to mental health, I have a real life, in real society, forging relationships with real people. normal people. Yes – I get locked up far to frequently and have to endure these ‘thought crime examination’ sessions on a very regular basis. But asides from that I think very little of mental health. In my own views I have no health issues with my head or brain. This ‘illness’ doesn’t affect my life in any way. It scares the hell out of me, though, that these people will not simply go away and leave me alone. They have journeyed too far to turn back and I am wedged so deep in the system that they don’t know how to let go. they just keep prying and trying to entangle me in a death roll. Obviously the only choice is to resist. Never be beat. That is survival. But I do dream longingly of a time when they will disappear, when the system will evaporate. How can this be possible?
Born in 356 BC, son of Philip the Macedon, Alexander the Great, achieved more than he could ever imagine, more than any man had ever achieved to that point in time. He left his home, raised an army, and marched across the earth, from Egypt to Persia, from Greece to India. By the time of his premature death at the age of 32, he had conquered the whole of the known world. he is one of the most revered characters in world history. However, Alexander was disappointed at being unable o fulfill his ambitions and goals. He knew that there was more to conquer and wanted to keep going. Of course he was correct in this presumption. The trouble was, that, as great a general he was, perhaps the finest military campaigner the world has ever seen, to achieve his lofty desires, Alexander couldn’t go it alone. He needed the support of his men. His army was comprised of a core of his loyal supporters, but also as his empire expanded, soldiers were recruited from across all his territories. It was a global hotchpotch of the hardened fighting men. Full of spirit and testosterone they willingly gave their all to stand alongside the great victor. But years on the road, and endless miles away from home and families took their eventual toll. Not perhaps on Alexander. He was happy with his horse, Bucephalus, and his gay lover and best friend, Hephaestion. the exotic nature of his adventures had taken their toll on his outlook. He had forced most of his leading men to abandon their wives at home and take on Persian brides. Eventually in the midst of an Indian campaign, coming up against the might of War Elephants, and having to withstand the arduous conditions of the Hindu Cush, Alexander’s men said ‘enough is enough’. Unease in the ranks had spread, soldier by soldier, right the way up to the top to his leading generals. They had seen and taken far more than they had ever bargained for. They now wished to return home, to a peaceful existence. The revolt of his men meant that a line had to be drawn in the sand and Alexander was forced to concede defeat and turn back. For all his fighting, his own men, those most loyal to him, finally pulled the plug on it all. The lack of faith in him didn’t sit comfortably with Alexander, and out there on the edge of the abyss, his spirit wheezed and weakened and left him. Soon after returning West, an innocuous minor illness seized his enfeebled body and in 323BC, in the heart of Babylon, Alexander the Great departed from this world.
These mental health footsoldiers have to realise, to understand the realities of their system. To endlessly march on the orders from above, without considering one’s own thinking and beliefs, is good for a strong army up to a point. Eventually the powers of goodness will triumph over any individual’s need. If every mental patient can just sow the seeds of doubt into the frontline workers, then eventually it will be them that bring down the whole system, like a pack of cards, from within. It is blatantly obvious to me, as a long term patient, that no matter how hard I try, my voice will not be heard from above. The sinister controllers at the top of psychiatry, who love in a murky David Ickesque illuminati world, who govern the goals agenda and action plans of all beneath them, will never be defeated by their enemy. If, on the other hand, their own troops can be realigned, if the indoctrination somehow fails,, maybe the revolution will result. There’s only so much space in the Swiss Vaults for Drugs Companies to store their cash. The whole system will be brought down from within. It is so insular, the god being prayed to is so false, eventually sheer overwhelming people power and common sense will turn the beast upon itself and it will be devoured. A foundation of sand is a silly place to build a skyscraper, as tall and as wonderful as that monolith is intended to look.
As found often in life, mental health reveals a distinct dichotomy when categorising patients. The dividing line falls between voluntary patients (who constitute the vast majority of the world’s mental health patients) and compulsorily treated patients. The difference between the two is significant. I like to think of the distinction in terms of pornography. There is a great variety of porn on offer in today’s world and it can neatly be placed in two major categories: Softcore porn might be viewed post-watershed on Channel 4 or be made by a loving couple at home on their Nokia Camera Phone; Hardcore Porn, although a lot rarer, can emcompass anything an although not a particular porn aficionado myself, I understand from friends that seeing lesbian dwarves being impaled by horses is not uncommon. There is a gulf of difference in acceptability and the way in which these two types are viewed. It is a lot easier to take up softcore porn and get back out of it into a normal life, yet on the other hand you can slip deeper into the murky world by joining in and end up being drawn into the niche area of hardcore porn. Very rarely indeed do people move in the other direction. There is no turning back.
The housewife who gets a bit overexcited around Christmas time and needs some valium prescribed from the GP to beat away the January blues is a fair way from, for example, Peter Sutcliffe or Charles Bronson, who while away their days in the confines of Broadmoor. What defines the boundary between patient categories? It comes down to law. In Britain we have the Mental Health Act which attempts to define mental illness in terms of the law. Mental Health Law is very very shady. It allows for psychiatrists to pass legislation based on their medical examination of a patient which can mean that he or she can be ‘sectionned under the Mental Health Act. If a doctor decides this then, as a patient, you lose your rights to decide on treatment and your (self) appointed doctor is able to treat you without your consent. The rights and wrongs of this fundamental principle of Mental Health is a subject which I really want to delve deeply into as the End Of Terror blog develops. It opens a whole massive can of worms of medical ethics and human rights. Not all psychiatric’ patients see the inside of a mental hospital and indeed not all mental hospital patients are ‘detained‘ patients (a sectionned patient also loses his fundamental right to liberty in addition to enforced treatment). Many inpatients are ‘voluntary‘ patients who are deemed sufficently within their capacity of mind to choose what treatment they receive, although this can also be bit of an illusion as a voluntary patient who chooses not to agree to a doctor’s recommendation of medication can easily slip into the ‘hardcore’ world.
Like hardcore porn stars, many sectionned patients are victims and merciless to what life has thrown upon them. They never wittingly chose this lifestyle and once in, as much as they long to leave the dark world, they cannot get out. At the same time there are one or two real purists who just simply love to test the boundaries and see just how dirty they can go in the quest for hell. They revel in the unnatural world, their goal is to push out the boat in terms of what evil humanity can really achieve. These purists, however, might not always be on film. In hardcore porn there are one or two cameramen and producers or directors who never appear in the footage. They may reveal themselves in the end credits as ‘Dick Dastardly‘ or ‘Pervy Peter’ but they are critical to this world and keep it all flowing. they are the ones who coin it in, who recruit, keep people involved in the hardcore world, and ultimately decide what trainwreck results in the end product. Back in the healthcare system ‘Pervy Peter’ is likely to have a title of Doctor or Consultant before his name, or maybe ‘Dick Dastardly’ is a simple Nursing Assistant who gets his kicks while plugging people into the mains for E.C.T. treatment. These people are the unknown quantities. Their stories are rarely told. They are adept at occluding themselves from society but could it be possible that the odd shrink or nurse are as inherently evil as the most notorious of our mental patients?
My first involvement with mental health came not through volition in any way. At the age of 19 I was thrown right in at the deep end. Sink or swim, it was straight into the danger zone. Horse penis or not, it has been an unpleasant journey but the interesting thing is that I have maintained sanity throughout (in my own opinion). It’s as though they are filming me shagging with all my clothes still on… It’s weird staring at the film crew all day every day and wondering what they are actually achieving in this purgatory or getting paid for, but a job’s a job, and if society needs them to record every detail then so be it. Maybe there needs to be a change in market appetites for a new vice to emerge and the evils of porn could be wiped from the face of the Earth.
‘The thing lacking in the monstrosity that is the modern psychiatryindustry is the VOICE OF REASON. This blog-based website aims to publicly expose the wrongdoings and evil of an archaic system which spans the planet, holding no respect at all for human rights or medicine. Psychiatry makes many claims and is a rapidly expanding business and way of life for both workers and victims alike. We want to bring truth and clarity to the multiple bogus claims it makes. It is not a true form of medicine. It is a pseudoscience at best, simple torture in most of its guises, and represents a global agenda governed by some really dark secretive forces. What drives this industry? How do the drugs companies affect the lives of an ever-expanding circle of patients? What does a psychiatrist do? As the writer of this blog I hold no qualifications, but I am a mental patient with 14 and a half years direct experience on the receiving end of this industry. I am mainly categorized as ‘schizophrenic’, not that I recognise in any way a mental health diagnosis. One of the most difficult things to deal with as a patient is public perception of mental illness. I want to prove beyond all reasonable doubt that mental illness is a MYTH and not a disease. I strive to bring clarity and a cohesive argument to the public to attempt to change mass perception of the evils of psychiatry. It’s no good just hoping or praying for this to change – it requires positive action. In the global world of the web, the dissemination of information is possible in a way that could never have even been imagined only a short time ago in history. Let’s focus and do something positive, while harnessing this power. If everyone rises up and joins the struggle then humanity as a whole will benefit from the resulting revolution. It sounds a wild pipe dream and many shrinks will immediately categorise ‘End Of Terror’ as a ‘Delusion of Grandeur’ – Let’s see what can be achieved… Personally I hope that psychiatry can be totally eradicated as not since the days of the Spanish Inquisition has the earth seen so much brutality and terror done in the name of ‘good’. ‘Aim for the moon and if you miss, at least you’ll end up among the stars….’
On April 2nd 1997 my life changed forever. I was a fresh-faced 19 year old student atUniversity College London, a DJ and party promoter with a promising career in front of him and a healthy and active social life. I had my whole life in front of me and not a care in the world. On my ‘Ground Zero‘ disaster day, that sunny Spring afternoon, I was handed a sheet of paper by a social worker in a room in a local Welsh mental hospital and informed that I had been placed under Section 2 of the Mental Health Act. I would not be able to leave the hospital. My nightmare had begun. 14 and a half years on from that point in time and I am no closer to escaping the clutches of these horrific people that forced themselves into my life. I have come to realise that technology harnesses true power. In my struggle for freedom and a life void of the tyranny and evil that oppresses me, I am turning to the internet to empower my plight, to share my story, to help combat psychiatry and all it represents and to hopefully inspire other people who have met with similar disasters. My ‘End Of Terror’ organisation will hope to shine a light of truth on the barbaric industry that is psychiatry. The journey promises to be long and arduous and although many will find my musings those of a maniac, I hope to sow a field of seeds in the minds of the general public and to enlighten one of the most concealed corners of the human mind. Before that April day in 1997, I had thought little, if anything at all of mental hospitals, psychiatrists and mental illness. I have since learnt a lot and realise that the general public is mainly ignorant of some of the facts and the truth regarding these matters.
Buckle up and seat yourselves and I will guide you like a beacon through the dark murky waters of the epic mystery…