PREVIOUS BACK TO HOMEPAGE NEXT
The 1977 Xmas turned
out to be the first in a row of Xmases
during which my beloved daughter would be again and again locked up in a looni
bin against her will, and despite her protests and mine too. The first shrink I
went to see with my daughter and her mother decided - after hearing the
mother's complaints against her daughter - that daughter should be sent to the
psychiatric ward of hospital for "observation", namely, to see if she
needs any treatment for mental illness. The shrink then asked for the parents'
consent in writing. The mother readily signed away her daughter, but I refused
to sign. I knew nothing about psychiatry then, but I had enough respect for my
daughter's human rights so as to support her refusal to go to that hospital,
but for the shrink the signature of the mother was sufficient to incarcerate
daughter against her will.
Soon I would find out
to my horror that the term "observation" the shrinks had used as a
pretext to have my daughter incarcerated, was observation by name only. In
reality they considered her as mentally ill from the moment of her arrival, and
began to "treat" her with psychiatric drugs against her will and
despite her protests. As she protested ( "why me?"she would painfully
protest) the higher went the dosage of the potent drugs injected into her by
force, both to crush her resistance as well as to comply with the psychiatric
practice of considering the patient's resistance in itself as a sign of illness
which requires more intense drug treatment. Finally, the psychiatrist in charge
(a zionist, as I would find out later) managed to turn my daughter into a
living vegetable and a docile patient.
Early in 1978 I had
sold my 5 acre block and returned home. Soon after we put the house on the
market and went for a tour of the countryside to look for a more comfortable
house on a block of land which would become our self sufficient farm. By that
time daughter was allowed back home, and I was hopeful that the new home would
help her overcome the trauma of the looni bin incarceration. What I did not
know then, and I know now from books written by the USA psychiatrist Prof.
Peter Breggin ( see his website, www.breggin.com/contact.html), was that the,
so called ,anti-psychotic drugs are addictive, therefore great care should be
taken to very gradually reduce them, and not abruptly in which case it is
likely to lead to a severe crisis. On
top of that daughter needed friends and empathy, and plenty of it from society,
but could not find any. All of which would land her again in the looni bin.
During 1979 - 80 , as
I was looking around for ways to help my daughter, I hit the idea of writing ,
producing and selling a satirical collection of working-class humour. Initially
I intended the collection - titled, BULL'S EYE JOKES - WORKING-CLASS HUMOUR -
to be prepared in partnership with my daughter, especially with her cartoons
elucidating and supplementing the written jokes, but it didn't work out that
way. To cut the story short, I went ahead with my own work on the booklet. In
the five years that followed I have prepared ,produced and sold 10- 12 editions
totaling 17,000 booklets. I sold them in Victoria, NSW, South Australia, New
Zealand, and in London. They were selling like hot cakes with mostly very
faourable feedback (the nasty remarks came from the different enemies of the
people who felt offended by the booklet).
During 1981 I agreed
with my spouse on separation, but we went to try and live together again in
early 1982 for the sake of daughter. In early 1981 daughter was locked up in
the Royal Park looni bin, then escaped on 29th of May. To help her avoid being
locked up again all three of us drove off to Sydney, and rented a flat there.
However, the addictive psychiatric drugs now abruptly cut off, the traumas of
incarcerations, as well as the damage caused by the psychiatric drugs, all
played havoc with her entire being, and there was no solution to be found in
Sydney. So I began corresponding with two organisations in Britain. One was founded
by Dr. R.D. Laing, a dissident psychiatrist opposed to incarceration of
patients, and the other one was a USA psychiatrist who purported too to oppose
the psychiatric methods of compulsory drug treatment. Both organisations have
actually invited me to come over with daughter to London, promising to help
daughter.
My spouse objected to
us going to get help for daughter in London. She has been persistent in her
support for the local shrinks, and consequently she considered a trip to London
with daughter as a waste of money. For
me at stake was daughter's chance to live as a human being, therefore the
separation between me and my spouse would become an official divorce by 21
February 1985. In the meantime, on daughter's 20th birthday, myself and
daughter left for London.
After a long and
tiresome flight our Jumbo landed at Heathrow Airport. Upon arrival we
immediately took the bus to Oxford, then changed to a local bus which would
drop us at our destination : a village at outskirts of the town. There the Philadelphia
Association, founded by Dr. R.D. Laing, owned an old, spacious farmhouse which
the association transformed into a communal house for ex-psychiatric patients.
At the time of our arrival there it was home for 3 people : one man in his early 60s, one woman in her
early 30s, and one man in his mid 20s. I was very happy to have arrived there
with daughter, hopeful that it would be our final destination in Britain.
However, my hopes for the place would not last long.
The woman who had
actually invited daughter to the place ( in reply to my letters to the
Philadelphia Association) was initially very friendly to her. However, daughter
was virtually in a state of shock after the long flight and the sudden landing
in a strange country, then expected to settle down in a totally unfamiliar
environment. It was just beyond the endurance of the fragile, injured and
damaged ego of daughter. She needed plenty of time and patience, and plenty of
love and empathy, to let her adjust herself to the new reality. The local
woman, herself an ex-psychiatric patient with her own bag of problems, was
disappointed to find daughter not responding to the friendly welcome.
Eventually, someone complained to the head office in London, and daughter was
told to move out. We did so.
We then tried the
other organisation, Arbours, in London. Having found a cheap accommodation in a
London suburb I immediately phoned Dr. Schtzman of Arbours. It was him who
invited daughter to come to London in reply to my letters to him. Following our
visit to his private clinic he recommended that daughter be admitted to one of
Arbours halfway houses. However, the other chief of Arbours, a smart Dr.
Bourke, had objected to daughter's admittance because we did not have enough
money to pay him. As a result daughter, now being rejected for the second time,
fell into despair and eventually into panic. As I was looking for a new
alternative for her in London she went missing, wandering aimlessly and with no
sleep in the streets of London.
I had made two more attempts
to find in London alternatives for daughter but failed. As our money was
running out we decided to return to Australia. We arrived back in Melbourne in
early 1983. Daughter went to live with her mother in a rented 3-bedroom house
in Preston. I rented a room in Moonee Ponds, and my son lived in a rented flat
in another part of Melbourne. Ostensibly, my son was doing well - he graduated
from RMIT as an electronic officer, and later would move out to NSW to study
philosophy and psychology in NSW - but the family was torn apart and there was
little cooperation between us. In the case of my son, he would become the next
target of the zionist Gestapo, as we shall see later in this
autobiography.
As for myself,
obviously, my health had been negatively affected by the crushing process of my
family. So I went to seek help from nature by traveling to southern NSW and
pitching a tent in the heart of the biggest and most beautiful national park in
the southern coast of NSW. For three
and a half months I lived there alone by the basalt rocks along the ocean
beach, making friends with leeches, ticks, mosquitoes and snakes, as well as
with an incredible array of birds. I was rewarded with clean fresh air, pure
spring water, the music of the forest, and with harmonious and relaxing sights.
As a result of that overall healing force of nature plus my own relaxing walks
and exercises rejuvenated my body's defences and I came out of the forest healthy and vigorous. During February,
1984, I was on my way back to Melbourne.
PREVIOUS BACK TO HOMEPAGE NEXT