SV GIRI, MD, Aging and awards

Seeing President Biden drop out of the presidential race was positive and negative for me. Yes he was dramatically neurocognitively declining over the last years and it was difficulty to hear this explained as studdering.  Bruce Willis has declined to.  So did Joni Mitchel but she’s made a come back.  I’m of an age when so many of my cohort are retiring, declining or even dying. I’ve lost too many family and close friends in the last few years. It’s cause for grief and for anxiety for my self. I’m a great one for denial of death having worked in the midst of death and being as prone to the next for magical thinking.  

My father was an engineer and in charge of the Matthew Conveyor installation at the Winnipeg Airport and Winnipeg Post Office. It was the reason my family moved to Winnipeg. Dad had 150 men working under him in those years.  Yet post retirement, downsized front house to apartment with Mom, having survived an MI and near death experience after prostate surgery, he was no longer robust and the powerful as the man I’d known him.  There was a coffee room and activity room where he stayed.  A man my father had fired for drunkenness and theft on the job was given an apartment in the same building my father was in. Mom and he had paid significantly for him to be there and always paid more than their share.  I never knew either to not work. Yet now this former street person was harassing my father whenever he went to the cafe.  My father stopped going to the cafe and my mother told me of this.  What he was most upset with she said, “He keeps calling him a liar and says he wasn’t an engineer and didn’t work on the PO or Airport.  He bullies your  dad and calls him names and your father just returns to the apartment”  

I made a trip to the cafe and spoke to the dozen or so elderly people there and confronted this man telling them all what a great father my dad had been, how he was an engineer and was in charge of the installation of the conveyor systems for the Airport and Post office , how I’d worked for him as a Millwright’s helper and how I was a doctor and specialists and taught at the university thanks to what a great father I’ d had.  I also said my parents raised me to tell the truth and I’d never heard either of them lie.”  I concluded by saying that I’d heard my father’s good name and reputation had been questioned and my father is a humble man who doesn’t care to be in the company of liars and near do wells.  

My mom told me after that this man who’d been the charm of the old ladies was thereafter ostracized and dad eventually returned to having their morning coffee there visiting with their friends. The old sociopath and liar apparently more often than not left when my father came but never again disparaged my father or called him a liar. 

I felt I did the right things, restoring order and protecting my father in his old age God knows he protected me endless times when I was young and indeed more often than not my worst enemy.  That he didn’t kill me when I was a teen ager was the coin that no doubt contributed to his going straight to heaven when he died.  There was no doubt that Mom was headed there but Dad, having been an Air Force Veteran through WWii expressed doubts about his own final destination.

Now I’m selling my sail boat. It was my life and identity for many years, learning all the navigation skills, sailing skills and boat maintenance and engine repairs, communication involved in off shore blue water sailing, my passion after and parallel to my medical training and speciality and sub speciality training.  I am selling the sailboat now.  Soon I’ll be without it and like my friend who lost his license after a stroke so can’t drive his truck, I’m feeling the future closing in on me.  

Younger I’ve heard people who are couch coaches and athletes and dr. Google specialists tell me “I don’t know anything”.  It’s that kind of world today.  People are being given awards and titles without having earned them. Indeed the new DEI , diversity, equity and inclusion designativions are being called ‘Did not earn it’.  Working with the military I had to address the growing issue of ‘stolen glory’, men and women claiming they had served and were wounded in wars that took place far from their couches and little minds.  The professors I know are having increasing problems with fraud.  I imagine Joe Biden telling people in the nursing home that he was once the President of the United States of America and no one believing that.

It’s ego dropping away.  My back aches and I’m no longer a gymnast and dancer and though I hiked to tops of mountains and carried 60 lb packs on week long hike I could sneeze today and be contorted by a spasm,  So yes it’s challenging.

I mostly fear being told by a liar the likes of our lying near do well Prime minister and so many of the political and media sorts and the paid lying Goebels sort that I wasn’t a sailor and wasn’t a doctor and wasn’t who I was.   I imagine being ny father walking away from a favourite cafe where I’d once been accepte and laughed with friends because a bullies and criminal and thief moved in and I just didn’t want to leave my room. Indeed it’s sometimes hard to get out of my bed.  And who’s going to be there to say I was a good man who lived life and loved and served.  Service is not a part of communism the religion of aetheism.  The godless are only interested in what they can get for themself and project their greed onto all those others who believe in something more.  

I had a nightmare of being stripped of my degrees and accomplishment and body and memories and was standing alone and being accused of being a liar and I had no evidence to prove my past. None of the babies I’d delivered. None of those I’d helped get off drugs and alcohol, none of those I’d brought back to life rescuing them from disease and death for another day were there. I was there in that empty room disembodied and naked being a cussed .  Ex wife and old enemies.  There were the murderers I refused to sign out of jail and the pedophiles I put in jail and the malingers and liars I’d exposed.  All of these were accusing me of the voices like those who said I never did n’t do enough. Like the lovers who were never satisfied and the patients who felt I wasb’t perfect and yet I’d done all I could. And the storms at sea which I’d tried to avoid and the storms I’d past through only barely surviving and thinking how poor a sailor I was with broken equipment and exhaustion and the thought that someone from the Navy or Coast Guard would know better or an old offshore fisherman. I’ve never felt I knew enough or was enough and seemed constantly facing challenges at the limit of ny learning.  

I supposed that Jesus or a friend night be in that room I was an advocate for my father.  I suppose and hope and even pray that there is an advocate on that day of reckoning to save me from despair and sorrow.  It’s hard to let go of my sailboat and hard to see my friends retiring and muddling on barely.  

Thank you God for what I had, Thank you God for what I lost, Thank you God for what I have left 

55 yo Mom’s death,psychiatry, Chinatown, Gilbert

55 years old.  I think it was a particularly terrible year though of course that’s only because the negatives stand out in my mind rather than the positives.  There’s a rare and beautiful person who will remember the flowers blooming in the springtime of the war.  I”m working on this.

When I think of 55 yo I think of my Mom dying.  I’ve returned to Vancouver and opened up a practice on Broadway.  Opening a practice is the most difficult time with countless new patients and so many borderlines sent to you by doctors fed up and overwhelmed and hoping the ‘new kid’ will have a solution when all else have failed.  It’s the greatest strain on the nervous system too. Each of these new patients vying for attention and obviously desperate. I open myself to people when I see them. I drop the barriers and defences and let them in. I ‘lend them my ego’ as we say in the trade and I ‘walk a mile in their moccasins.”  I join their insaniety. I ‘feel their pain’.  There’s always some psychopaths and sociopaths early days.  It’s a matter of seeing and sorting out those people who one can work with, who needs simply medication, or a letter, or only a consult and those who are right for in depth psychotherapy and in the ‘action’ phase of change.  

People come to see the new psychiatrists for the following reasons 

1. To get relief from emotional pain

2. To prove to him and themselves and their families that they are untreatable

3. To get a new diagnosis because they don’t like the diagnosis their previous psychiatrists gave them, some people I’ve know have disagreed with 30 plus psychiatrists. 

4.  To spar. 

5. To have an ‘episode’ of television in their boring narcissistic self loathing lives.  Entertainment.

6.  To complain to, to have yet another person hear how horribly wrong they’ve been done by and that it’s not their fault.

7. To have someone more to blame 

8. To stop the thoughts of suicide and homicide.

9 To stop having sex with their sister, cow, dog or mother in law

10.  To ‘show’ their spouse that they’re doing something about their problem when they aren’t doing something about their problem

11. To lie

12. To threaten an educated upper class person when they want to kill another educated upper class person, like Justin Trudeau but he has body guards and psychiatrists are soft targets

13. To get drugs.

14. To get off work.

15. To get disability forms completed. They don’t want to get well, they want money. Money is the solution to their problems and the insurance or government have coopted the psychiatrist to ‘rubberstamp’ the bullshit

16. To be able to get a complaint for human rights or the college to show everyone how they are offended

17. To stop the voices telling them to kill

18. To get a pill that will make their horribly unimaginative lives seem less desperate and bleak

19. To avoid getting a partner or a life or a job.

20. To talk about why they are an aetheist, vegan, and communist and (fill in the blanks) and how everyone should be like them but they’re clearly miserable and none of the antidepressants are working

21. They don’t want to change or do any work at all but they want the psychiatrist to work and change and even take the pills for them or read the literature they bring for him.

22.  They want to steal from him and are there to case the place and access his building or his other patients

23. They want to have sex with him because they’ve always wanted a doctor and they stalk doctors and if they had Sex with a psychiatrist that would prove they weren’t batshit crazy

24. To have sex with a psychiatrist because they’ve already had sex with a lawyer, a priest, a teacher, a football player, a psychologists and their mother in law and they’ve never had sex with a psychiatrist but it would up their score.

25. They want to change.

26. Others say they should change and have said this for 20 years and they don’t want to change but maybe they should consider it.

27.  God told them to go to the psychiatrist and tell him he is an abomination

28. They were sent to the psychiatrist as part of a government ‘sting’  or are being paid by someone else to evaluate the psychiatrist for some nefarious scheme..

29.  Their husband wife or father or mother or boss or the police sent them and they don’t want to be there.

30. Other people complain about their having sex with children and they like having sex with children

31. The police don’t like them

32. They can’t afford the heroin anymore so they want the cheap government drugs

33. They need housing

34. They want a million dollars

35.  They want the psychiatrist to kill their ex husband

36. They want to be on television.

37. They want drugs they can sell for the drugs they want but are tired of doing blow jobs for them

38. They hate everyone

39. They can’t feel

40. They have tried to kill themselves a dozen times in different ways and can’t seem to do it right

41. Women don’t love them.

42. They can’t find a millionaire husband, Men just use them.

43........

I have opened a half dozen psychiatric practices over the years. I have some colleagues who have opened one practice (business) and the trauma of that experience has kept them there terrified of opening another.

It takes months to sort through the patients. Mostly this is a time of rejection and hate.

“You won’t give me opiates or speed or benzodiazepines! You’re no good as a doctor. I’m going to complain to the College of Physicians and Surgeons and say you sexually harrassed me.!”

“You wont say I can never work again. I’m going to complain to the College of Physicians and Surgeons and say you sexually harrassed me.”

“You won’t have sex with me. I’m going to complain to the College of Physicians and Surgeons and say you sexually harrassed me.”

“I”m going to tell my husband you say he should hit me. He’s the best friend of the Mayor and he’s going to ruin you. I just wanted pain killers not some sermon on my marriage and life. We like S&M. It’s what we do. I just need opiates and you’re supposed to give them to me.”

I have had hundred of threats that people will complain to the College when I have made the following diagnosis

1. Alcoholism

2. Substance Use Disorder

3 Malingering

4. Anger issues

That year I was 55 I hired a minister who was a lazy cow and didn’t do an ounce of work in the office, talked on the phone to friends, family, sponsees and never did any ‘billing’, or ‘correspondence’ or ‘book keeping’ or filing. She’d told me she’d worked for her ex husband who’d been a counsellor and that she knew all about billing, book keeping and filing. She answered phone calls and booked appointments.  She double and triple booked me and I saw hundreds of patients which I never got paid for. The government has a convenient system which is that they only pay for a half of their bills with a variety of ways of delaying paying doctors. We get paid in one to 3 months ,however if we bill after 3 months they will deny the bill and after 6 months they totally deny the bill but if your secretary isn’t putting in bills you don’t know that she’s not doing this till months later.

I’d opened the practice on Broadway investing all my income into the new business paying all the staff and overhead costs. If I’m a labourer I can get paid at the end of the day. If I’m blue collar I can get paid every two weeks. If I’m a professional I have to pay tens of thousands of dollars upfront in education and licensing costs and commitment to the system and when I open a practice I will start getting paid in 1. - 3 months. I will likely get all my billing paid in 6 months if I constantly write and demand and beg to be paid,   because of all the ‘dickering’ the government does to ‘steal’ money from doctors for ‘short term’ investment.

I then had the accountant who we assume was a drunk and went into treatment but his throwing his records in the dumpster and on the street cost me tens of thousands of dollars and being garnisheed by the government because of him and my secretary not doing billing cost me tens of thousands of dollars in fines and losses.. 

There is some thought that the woman the minister brought in to help her, who she insisted she vetted and said was clean and sober over 5 years  and had worked in offices before and was good at billing and filing and typing was actually ‘targeting my practice.’ Her biker boyfriend and her were said by those who knew them that they did ‘shakedowns’.  They both within months would steal from me and threaten me.  My new accountants book keeper would ‘teach’ her how she could make ‘false claims’.  She put hundreds of hours of ‘overtime’ in the books which she’d never done and the office had been closed. 

My mother was dying. My patients were sick. My staff were stabbing me in the back and stealing from me. I was working night and day and weekends and I didn’t know that my staff was stealing and stabbing me in the back or that my accountant was lying , psychotic and not doing my books.  

I paid a lawyer tens of thousands of dollars and got a new staff to go over all the government claims this skank brought against me. I only learned after this that the new staff I had, this horrid hateful person who’d been so two faced, had actually ‘shook down’ all her previous employers.  She’d gone to human rights and all the mass of agencies that exist to ‘serve the public’ but all this meant was that I was paying these two people who hated doctors and felt doctors were rich people and entitled.  I made ‘zero’ money that year, faced with theft and shake downs and all along the government agencies were publicly paid institutions that served to destroy entrepreneurs and private enterprises and hated doctors. They loved ‘salaried people’.  It’s been shown since that they prefer communism. 

I was grieving my mother’s death and all I was doing was fighting these agencies who were the worst bullies. Government employees today are dominated by these communist minded entitled people who see their job as destroying others.  There’s also this ‘first come first served’ industry. The skank had complained so they were all on her ‘side’.  I was male and she was female so they were all on her side.  I was older and she was younger so they were all on her side. I was educated and she was not so they were all on her side. I was conservative and traditional in appearance whereas she was tattooed and edgy (the crystal meth addiction certainly helped) and I was staid and pedantic.  It’s all about the victim card and old white guys who are professions don’t get one. 

I spent a year of meeting the lowest humans I have ever encountered in my life. So many highly paid government workers who would ally themselves with a lying active drug addict theif who’d apparently worked as a prostitute and her references were previous Johns. Meanwhile her biker boyfriend was barging into my offic and threatening me but was a terrible coward who I’d simply throw out of my office.  I was building and maintaining my practice despite these evil sick people and their evil sick government allies. She actually went to the college and made a false allegation that I ‘sexually harrassed’ her. The CMPA made it clear that the College was right out of bounds. “It’s a disgruntled employee complaint. It’s none of their business. She was never your patient. They have no boundaries. Their behaviour is so unprofessional.”  But he college is above the law and even their own lawyer  would leave saying they were appalling. 

It was during this time the CMPA told me I was the ‘most persecuted doctor in Canada.”  I’d already learned that there was this person in the college who absolutely personally hated me and abused their position of grotesque powers to act out their evil.   

My mother had died. I felt it was a year before I was out of the war zone and could cry. I still cry. 

It’s a measure of the civilization of people and society how they deal with their poor and old and sick. I was not allowed to grieve. There is an epidemic of doctor suicides in Canada and burn out running 60 to 70%. I have never met more cruel people than those who worked in government with their pettiness and pomposity and their lack of care for other human beings. My mother had worked in offices and my aunt had been the assistant to the Ambassador.  I had worked in a dozen offices in England. I was never cruel and uncaring like these absolutely heartless bureaucrats. Barbarians.  There are no words to describe their insensitivity and the horror they do to good people. I’d be vindicated time and again but though proven innoscent I’d go through this gauntlet of party boys and girls with no dog in the game getting rich and slick on tax payer money serving their own self centred needs and destroying the health care system and country with their arrogant stupidity. 

 I am still working on forgiving them.  My mother’s death was defiled by these subhuman sociopaths and psychopaths.  I would have killed myself a dozen times over if I wasn’t a Christian and knew that my mother and father raised me better than these callous Cretans. I am appalled today at the number of people killed by these bureaurcrats and how they deny accountability no better than the government who maintained the murdering nurse I’d reported years before.  The negligence and sins of omission and corruption are the problem in the system. After that year of being exposed to the hallow men and hollow women in the burearocracy I concluded that only God made sense. There was only hope in Jesus. My Christian faith grew and my appreciation of sobriety was immensely rewarded by seeing the ego addicted narcissism of the truly satanic. I loved reading C.S. Lewis’ Screw tape letters again. I loved when the grief lifted I could have at least black humor.  I loved carrying on. My father needed me.

During my mother’s sickness and dying a woman neighbour had thrown herself at Dad. My mom hated her. She was always asking him about his money and pension and when mom died she was there telling us that he could move in with her and she’d take care of him and could we help her to transfer his pension to her to help her with the costs and what was his bank so she could do all this. Dad was crying at mom’s loss and this lady was flaunting about half naked and just a pig. I was so thankful for my sister in law at this time.  She and my brother and I knew that Dad couldn’t remain here. He was blind and old and weeping with sorrow and this predator was circling.  Her daughter was a nurse drug addict and we actually figured that the mother was just trying to get money for her daughter but she would have killed Dad for his pension.  It was an ugly thing to see. My sister in law Adell was the strong one and a saint and she saw through all these machinations and insisted on taking Dad home with her. My brother and she would arrange for him to be in assisted living nearby them and Ron with his incredible capacity for business and finance would take over all the family affairs. I’d go back to work glad to be part of the rescue of my father and now able to focus on defending myself from the female psychopaths.

Women don’t fight one on one but work their wars and evils through proxies, institutions and men.  They also gang up and tag team.   The fact that I’m alive and things worked out eventually though they’ve cost me thousands,  is that there’s a whole group of good people mostly behind the scenes supporting good.  They don’t like the skanks and psychopaths and they limit their violence.  I was also supported by the Canadian Medical Protective Association and the good men and women who worked there and saw that the system was flawed and these pseudo legal institutions were increasingly out of control. 

Dr. John White the Christian Psychiatrist I’d trained with had written metaphorically about the spiritual war and seeing the evil in the institutions I fully appreciated the spiritual war fare on a larger basis. I actually met Vorgons in government and saw all the characters that are the bad in Lord of the Rings. At the same time my sister in law was a fairy queen during this time and there were others like Laura and Aim and Joanne and Elizabeth. All these beautiful people that counteracted the darkness that seemed to be growing.  My brother was a regular Gandalf while my nephews were definitely Hobbits. It was the metaphors I had to deal with. Sometimes it’s was Luke Skywalker and Obi wan but I just kept telling myself that God prevails and in time these bottom feeders would let go.  

It was so easy to see the darkness but there was always light. Coming back in the sailboat with the broken mast and the lousy battery bank I’d listen over and over again to that great Christian Rock BandThird Day’s song “ There’s a light at the end of the tunnel.”

I’d become ill one week, I’d had acquired tubuculosis working in the northern Indian reserves , been treated, but my lungs were never the same.  I thought as I was going to die from this horrible pneumonia so I’d might as well buy a motorcycle so I had something to live for. I’d taken all my lessons and loved my Ruckus but now I almost bought a Honda Shadow but a Buell Blast went on sale at Trev Deely. Laura loved motorcycles and had had a dirt bike she adored as a teen ager so was 100% behind my return to motorcyling. After I’d crashed a Norton on the back roads drunk and stoned getting rocks in my finger joints I had to pick out I’d decided against motorcycling for fear of losing my fingers. Now sober and having all the fun we’d had with the Aprillia and Ruckus motor scooters I graduated to the Buell Blast 600 cc. Laura had her motorcycle license and I’d do my training with her driving my car and me riding behind her on the country roads. Eventually I’d have my full motorcycle license, after only one crash in the exam where the fleet footed examiner escape alive.  I’d  drive that Buell all over the province before I graduated to the Harley 1200 cc Roaster which Laura and I would take motorcycle camping all over the province. I wanted to go to as many round up camp outs as I could and did.  We’d fall in love with Salt Spring. I’d loved it as a sailor and now loved it all over motorcycle camping. 

Every weekend and every evening of that year I was ‘defending’ myself and my practice and my patients from disgusting low life in low and high places.

I’d eventually have this lovely young lady who was pure and honest and Christian join as staff. In addition I had this very savy young man who’d worked in accounting and banking sort out the mess for me 

He was also ‘mr BC’ in this hilarious society in which the men dressed as women and women dressed as men. Each year there’d be a ‘drag queen’ ball and that’s when I spent the evening with the mayor in a magnificent gown with my hair done up , my make up perfect and even my friend Barbara didn’t recognize me. Laura laughed at all the shenanigans.  95% of cross dressers were heterosexual so our group was husbands and wives and rather hilarious. We’d have these dinners with challenges as to who could dress best from Value Village  with only $20 .  I was living on Beach in this fabulous apartment with balcony and loving going to the great pool every other day and eating out on Davis. I rarely drove and lived downtown. I even got roller blades and almost killed my self because my friend Dr. Anna said it was fun. I had more padding than the Michelin man but still couldn’t stop. Stanley park was a marvellous extension of my experience with great walks and cycling tours at this time.  I’d take a little ferry to Granville Island to shop and really loved the city. The problem was camping and hunting. I had everything in storage and would bring everything back only to find the elevator broken and me faced with climbing 20 plus stories.  It was a truly ‘city’ time though and I loved going out to clubs and dances and having a whole network of eccentric and wild friends from my elite club and downtown church.  

As it was with me the office buildings where I worked had cataclysmic events.  They got sold and the new owners took over the floor I was located on. The whole floors got evicted twice in my experience.  I was a very little guy and watched a Dentist and Opthalmologist get the same shaft as I experienced. The next time the lawyers on the floor couldn’t resist so I just went with the flow. Everyone just doing ‘business’.  I couldn’t complain.  I had a year to year lease and had to vacate.  It was the best thing that happened to me

I moved to China Town. The secretary that I’d had who was this horrible angry person who abused my patients who all complained about her, lasted with me less than 6 months because ‘I don’t like seeing people that aren’t from West Vancouver. I don’t want to work with people with drug and alcohol problems.”  I suspected she had a major alcohol problem after a while but who knows.  She was perfect in the ‘honeymoon’ and then her ‘true colours’ showed. I was glad when she said ‘I don’t want to work with people with drug and alcohol problems or crazy people. I thought you saw people who were a little depressed. Half your patients are lovely people but some of your patients are just disgusting. They don’t respect and appreciate me or treat me as they should. I certainly am not going to work in China Town.  That’s so beneath me.  You can’t move there.”

Well I could and I did. I was tired mostly of the parking gouging on Broadway. I ‘d had a horrible experience at this location with the evil minister and her evil friend and the evil government agencies.  I wanted to go to China town and have different places to go to lunch at noon. I worked from 8 am to 8 pm and would only get out if I had a cancellation or a lunch. I loved Chinatown and wanted to be able to explore at these times. I’d been on the Broadway corridor for years and eaten in all the restaurants. There was nothing wrong with it but I wanted a change. 

Because I moved I’d hire new staff. I’d keep more than half my patients. Some from the university area didn’t want to make the trip down to the city but I really didn’t have to ‘start over’ with the practice but had had more and more ‘medical legal’ requests.  I’d taken an interest in neurology and head injury just bccause I’d been seeing so much of this in my alcohol and drug addicted patietns. The best part of all was having Aim,  Joanne and Hannah come to work with me. After a year of theft and attitude and downright evil I had these extraordinary women come into my practice as a gift of God. They did the work and they did it well and they always ‘cared’ for the patients. I’d had the skank and her boyfriend and this horrible old lady who simply lacked empathy and didn’t seem to ‘care’ for the patients.  

Now I had these amazing ladies who really were mature and emotionally so highly developed and cared for the patients.

In the summer before I’d move and meet Aim and Joanne and enter 5 golden years of practice reminiscent of the days of Lil, and Laura and Suzanne, I’d decide to sail my boat back with my friend Tom. I”d pay for Tom to fly over to Kona and spend a couple of weeks checking out the systems and replacing what was needed. This was all good but he refused to replace the batteries which I’d paid for him to do. He insisted they were fine when indeed they weren’t. He did however ensure all the other systems were working and when I arrived we were able with only another week or so and massive outfitting with my credit card get on our way.  

We were a hundred miles off Kona when the rudder connection broke. I contacted the Hawai Coast Guard and sailed back. Homeland Security had become involved since 9/11 and ‘permits’ to sail the islands were highly restricted. We were a boat in distress and I only motor sailed daily from island to island during the day rather enjoying this  ‘sailing’ of these tropical islands. I’d enjoy it more but I was paying for a secretary and an office and had a whole lot of patients waiting for my return. I’d planned 4-6 weeks off and it would actually take another 4 weeks.  I’d sailed solo to Hawaii in the worse conditions in 24 days but now sailing back in the best conditions with crew took 34 days.  30 days was a reasonable plan except for the equipment breakdowns.  

We arrived in Hawaii main island harbour. That’s where we saved the pacific fleet by finding they had a ‘hole’ in their defence at low tide.  This impressed the Navy and the Coast Guard but nothing impressed Homeland Security who treated me like a “terrorist to be”, the whole time I was there. She did not like ‘yachties’ and thought everyone should be in uniform.  I was thankful that the Navy and Coast Guard countermanded her order to leave insisting I couldn’t because my boat’s rudder needed repair. We had to order the part. I rented a lovely white convertible and Tom and I had an idyllic week going for coffee, lying on the beach and reading.   When the part got in, thanks to Tom’s engineering skill, we replaced the rudder coupling and restored the autopilot function to the rudder.  

We were off again.

It was perfect sailing conditions. Wonderful tradewinds. Great sunny days. We’d met a couple of other boats going back and kept in touch with my Hamm radio. Then my crew got his crazy impulse to race at night. A gale had come up and he’d put up all the sails. Sleeping below I’d felt the boat lean too far and woken in fear, ran up on deck to start screaming and pulling down sails. That’s when the mast cracked. I’d had to repeatedly tell him that the maximum ‘cruising’ boat ‘angle’ had been x when he wanted to have the ‘gunwale’ in the water. “We’re not in a fucking race. I’ve told you time and again  I reduce sail at night. If anything goes wrong we’re alone at sea at night.”  I was really quite furious and my crew would joke about his having only 40 feet to stay away from me that night.  I just was angry that he’d take risks with my equipment and pull that whole anti authoritarian , adolescent ‘acting out’ with the full sails at night routine and now I was paying big time for his inability to simply follow orders and respect my equipment and my desires on my boat. The old mutiny and why I understand the ‘lashes’ that lasted so long in the British navy and weren’t such an issue on land.  I certainly wasn’t Captain Bligh who really got a bad name because his crew mutinied. 

Spanish Turnbuckle.  We were going again.  70 miles a day rather than the 100 to  150 miles a day and more weeks at sea but really a good time was had by all though my costs and losses for this all would be $150,000 but I’d have my boat back and we would be alive. My crew would oversee the repair of the mast having created weeks of work for himself and I’d eventually have the boat back as a home and a true joy.  My tugboat captain friend arranged space for me on the commercial dock and I had a shower in the China Town office. It was a rough existence in some ways but I truly loved the SV Giri. 

But on the boat coming home we’d had this wind generator problem. I had the wind generator from hell. It was huge. Tom in a fate of redemption stood on the precarious strut and lifted this beast off. He tried to fix it and for days we had this killer monster taking up our cabin and then in another feat of despair it was lifted back onto the pole when I was arguing we just chuck it overboard.  He deserved a Victoria Cross for his bravery and contribution to the boat even if it didn’t work any better after that.  My solar panels had all the input they could get but the problem remained the batteries. I had a water maker and for the water maker to work we needed batteries. The batteries ran the autopilot as well though we were able to get the wind pilot working a lot.  2 guys at sea.  Lots of challenges. 

 I have a friend who brings yachts home and now appreciate his amazing skills. I’d sailed solo starting with a fully tested ready to go ship but now this boat had been on land for three years and things corrode and gum up and such. The rudder had broke and the mast had broke  and the batteries wouldn’t hold a charge. But I had a Honda 1000 generator though it was problematic with intermittent air flow issues.  Nonetheless we made it. The tuna we caught was delicious. Tom baked fabulous bread.  

Coming into the Strait of Juan de Fuca my cell phone rang and I realized that now we had cell phone coverage in the coastal passage where I planned to be sailing now that I was home. I immediately thought this means I can do a methadone clinic. To be a methadone doctor you have to be on 24 hour call but VHS radio is not private so until this moment I couldn’t be because I didn’t want to give up sailing. Now I could.

I’d phone Gary and begin working a day a week at his methadone clinic a few blocks from the new China Town office I’d arranged after the Broadway building was sold.  All my money was going into the boat or the practice.  I was functionally ‘poor’ but rich in so many ways.

Now in my China Town practice I’d become so rich in heart.  I’d decided I could have another dog. I was over the murder of Stuart as much as one gets over the murder of a friend.

I made the decision to meet Gilbert. It all happens first in a spiritual realm. My prayers were answered. 

My cousin Wayne, logger and rancher, who bred Appalachian horses,  hunted and fished, and lived in a beautiful log cabin he’d made himself in the north had a Cockapoo. I decided that a cockapoo was what I wanted and found a retired  American Navy Commander who bred them on Whitby Island.  I contacted her.  Laura was keen on helping. 

I’d go off to meet Gilbert in my truck and  return with wonderful bundle of love that Laura and I continue to be blessed to know.    

36 yo Sailing Vessel Giri, Yanmar Diesel Engine, dinner parties,soul suckers, sociopath workers, The Maori

I bought the SV GIRI. It was a 13 ton 39.9 foot Steel Cutter Rigger Sailing Vessel with Yan mar Diesel engine with full keel made in the Frazer Valley.  I opened my practice in False Creek.  She went to stay with her mother as often as she could. When she was on the boat it really was like a holiday.  That first six months there was some element of the dream of blue blazer and white slacks. Later it would be engine oil and paint splattered T-shirt’s and jeans.  We took basic sailing and then coastal navigation at Cooper’s Yachts.  The first time I took the boat out the work began.  I’d spend the next 10 years learning diesel mechanics, boat electronics, boat communications,  energy production and storage. Sails, hulls, advanced navigation.  Every night after work I’d be in a class room.  We joined the Blue Water Sailing Association.

I read every book on off shore sailing. We had lots of trouble docking. Each problem we encountered was associated with major trauma then a new solution and we moved on. The first time we encountered ‘pea soup’ fog we couldn’t get back into harbour until we followed a fishing boat back to dock. She’d had to stand on the bow to direct me at the helm because we could only see 20 feet ahead.  We bought a radar and had it installed. 

We sailed to Desolation Sound.  The anchor wouldn’t catch in 80 feet of water. I hauled 80 feet of chain in and let it out 3x before giving up. We next got an electric anchor winch.  Eventually the whole boat had been replaced except the hull and mast, everything brought up to the latest off shore standards.

Along with all our new friends in the blue water sailing community we were preparing to go to Mexico.  There was a ‘program’ for this which included sailing to Desolation Sound, Circumnavigating Vancouver Island and then sailing to Queen Charlotte Islands. Once each of these hurdles had been made we would be ready to undertake the southern journey.  Meanwhile each weekend we’d head out to Bowen Island or Nanaimo bay to anchor for the weekend and enjoy the true glory of the west coast. Noghtsailing,escaping the city, anchoring in the dark then waking in heaven, bald headed eagles, seals, Canad Guess, eucalyptus trees and spruce. We’d sleep at anchor then wake to make heat breakfasts before lying in sun on deck reading. 

Trips to Victoria Harbour for a week and back were especially enjoyable.  The navigation to the lights at night was something else at first.  Everything was terrifying then we’d have the skill set and move on. Weekends in Salt Spring Island were wonderful. Shinto the dog was always a terrific companion. I’d stow the dinghy on deck, throw it over in the water and row or motor ashore. We’d have great hikes on the gulf islands with the dog. We’d enjoy the farmers markets on the islands and shop in the little craft stores. 

We’d had the autopilot installed so once we were out of English Bay we simply pointed the boat, set the auto pilot, then opened a bottle of wine and lit up a joint.  This really was idyllic.

She and I had got along fine when we were building a homestead and raising chickens. Together we became off shore sailors and coastal cruisers. She was a wonderful helmswoman.  The two of us surmounted every obstacle and really worked together  and overcame all that the sea and coast threw at us those years.  We also learned to manage energy, solar panels, wind generators, generators, and then we became proficient in VHS radio, single side band and eventually Ham radio. Lots of courses. Lots of reading. Calculations and study at night. I became a ship’s captain with all the tickets and a log to prove the skills and competence. Meanwhile I managed a full time practice while she worked at the hospital.

We also hunted in spring and fall and sailed black diamond through the winter at Whistler. 

Lots of sailing and Lots of anchoring with Canada geese coming to visit, dolphins liking to ride the bow waves, Orca’s swimming under the boat, eagles catching salmon, crab fishing, salmon fishing, catching long cod.  It was incredible. We’d have problems with finding permanent places to dock. We had 6 months in False Creek then had to move. That would be the pattern moving from dock to dock and feeling a bit like gypses. We’d really enjoy our time on the Fisherman’s Ward. It was so enjoyable fighting to the market and out for dinners at False Creek Restaurants. We’d have years at the Fisherman’s Dock then across the harbour by Yaletown and even some time in Coal Harbout.

We’d drive the Vanagon across Canada to visit my family, all the way to Toronto and Ottawa.  Seeing the nephews.  Connecting. Then back again to living in a boat in summer and winter. I’d hunt in the Vanagon and skin and butcher deer I shot in the Vanagon.  We’d take the Vanagon down to California. These were the activities of the years from age 36 to 40.  They blur together.

Each year we’d haul the boat up and scrape and paint the bottom.  Every event has its Murphy Laws. Tide Grid’s and the boat settling wrong so extra lines to mast to stop it slipping off. Frenzied scraping and painting between tided. Changing zincs. Usually two of us sometimes three. We’d then begin the steady almost weekly grind of the sailing, always terrified at the challenges of docking. Close hauled sailing in storms. Fair winds and falling seas. We had a ‘fixed’ schedule because of work so had to face the wind and weather.  Couldn’t ‘wait’ so sailed in all the fine or inclement weather to get back to dock to be at work on Monday. We left on Friday and returned on Sunday.  IF there was a storm we went through it because we were learning to sail in all conditions. This was the coastal sailinga nd we would one day have to sail off shore.  So we faced each challenge.  It was idyllic.

The West coast was amazing.  We were truly blessed. We were in love these years and enjoying the constant learning, the constant growing and the wonderful time sailing and anchoring. I love boat world. I love anchoring. I love sailing. I love the challenges and the travails. I even loved a whole lot of people we met in this world. There were problems but overall these were good years. She was such a comrade in arms though in the background re was always the insaniety of the mother the depressed and now increasingly suicidal father and dementia. 

In my practice I was focussed on psychotherapy specializing in treating borderline personality disorder and childhood trauma .I had remarkable patients I saw weekly, often for a year or two of long term instense therapy. I treated a half dozen multi millionaires there. That had a lot to do with location and a great referral base. I also saw a half dozen Olympic athletes. I had referrals from the heads of medicine, heads of family medicine and a variety of elite resources, mostly word of mouth. I saw movie stars, producers and rock stars and models. It was a very high end practice. I especially enjoyed the young geniuses.  Students from UBC and SFU would come to me because they were failing and soon be getting A’s. I liked the patients who passed masters and PhD degrees and never thought they could make it. I was distracted by sailing and the learning I was doing there so was rather low key in my practice moving at the speed of my patients not pushing them, laid back West Coast, and at night I’d drink wine and smoke dope.

We’d make love. She loved to make love then.  The boat turned her on. The rocking motion, the fresh air, the clothes optional.  We were fit and in shape. In summer I just wore a sarong or cut off shorts.  It was fit and fun frolicking. She was supposed to be getting pregnant though that never happened. 

We had the liveaboards problem all pervasive diesel smell. It got into clothes we’d ring fm the laundromat. We never seemed to get away from it. It wasn’t an unpleasant smell for us, kind of normal, but every once in a while when we’d got dressed up to go out we noticed others noticed that we had this distinctiveness.  Boat world.  We had friends over for dinner , parties on the boat. We took friends sailing with us for weekends. Lots of guitar and folk music. Wonderful stereo and great west coast music piped outside. Dancing on deck. She loved to let lose to rock and roll but never could master basic ballroom despite my attempts to teach her to follow. She was always competing always wanting to lead but reluctant about learning specific skills or practicing something alone. I was a dancer and I’d take the boat ou alone or with a male friend but she refused to go out alone or with a girlfriend. As a feminist she reserved the writer to be a constant critic and competitor but she’d never make the necessary step to have the competence and confidence to captain. We’d befriend women who’d solo sail and offer to take her out with them but she refused. I never could rely on her in the way I could with others who’d moved beyond crew to being able to alternate as Captain. This was a dangerous issue because she refused to follow directions and yet did not do that extra work or training to be accredited. Her problem with moving things and idiosyncratic behaviour required me to label all the cabinets and have the coast guard and other skippers come aboard to correct her when she was having what really were dangerous temper tantrums messing with machinery and safety features on the boat.

“I don’t care what the Coast guard says or what the. Circumnavigating solo sailor says I like it my way.” Was a dangerous combination and yet at first it was only occasiona these self destructive emotional orgies usually after a bad encounter with the mother or too much drugs and alcohol. I was steady and had a life time of boating and wilderness whereas she was a Shaughnassey girl often with delusion of grandeur and a problem with cocaine, alcohol and drugs. Cooperative behaviour and hierarchies is a skill set. I a good captain and a good assistant but could no done on her in lots of situations. Then she’d utterly surprise me and be the truly most amazing companion as we’d battle our boat through a storm. We had some harrowing helping imes shooting rapids and riding through Skookumchuck. These times when she’d be ‘on’ and I could rely on her and she rose to the occasion and we were working as a team without all the attitude were transcendent. Just thinking of Devils Gap I remember her ok a heroine at the helm while I nursed the engine to keep us going against fickle wind and current past the most frightening of ship swallowing ‘devils holes”. Sailing wing on wing all day down a channel with her managing the helm with supreme Grace was a joy to behold . Next her m ins would occur and the rage and pouts and living in this,little space . I’d escape with the dog in the dinghy and turn hours later hoping she was safe not knowing what to expect, weeks of walking on egg shells around her latest mood. I’d smoke a joint and have a glass of wine and try to be chill but she was commonly emotionally loud. D never understand this because we were in heaven. She’d so often not be there but back with her mother or holding a resentment against some female colleague she felt slighted her. Then we’d have peace and I d be serving her the latest fish I caught, enjoying her happiness and peace.

We had trouble with ‘what a bout Bob’ a disturbed man who invaded our world having no life to speak of of their own and always showing up on our doorstep. He’d become a friend mostly because he was a social bully. He loved her and was envious of me.  Judgemental to the max.  But a character.. I tolerated loners who gravitated to the accepting tolerant psychiatrist but wolf o to beat lgnths always trying to ‘sell’ ther paranoia or ‘depression’. I believed Sunshine came from within. Now I’d be with two depressives on the boat at time and wearied by their negativity. My other friend, almost Pollyanna, in his outlook would sometimes join us and I’d watch the clashes as these friends would now try to sell each other competing views.

As a psychiatrist I had this capacity to tolerate the tension of opposites. As Christian and spiritual person with the assistance of mellowing wine and joints I was simply amused when I had competing political and religious views on board. I provided wine and fish and moose and fed and dined a wide variety of folk, Christians, Jews, aetheists, pagans, war mongers and peace Nike but to me barbecuing or passing a bottle it was just folk selling their world views, pushing their opinions. The egomaniacs and megalomaniacs,would spar and I’d smoth ruffled feathers and everyone would want to be a guest at our often “weekly soirées. She was a delightful host. But increasingly she would not stand with me saying no to the more insane or addicted, the takers, the soul suckers. There was no reciprocity with these men and they lusted after her and she’d encourage their praise but they were there for the ‘free booze’, the “meals”: my cooking. Repeatedly I’d beg to to say no to these people ho made me feel I was never off work. The coke addicts were the worst but the alcoholic ex policeman and the University of Toronto coke addict theif. She took an evil pleasure in my discomfort, wanting to have my home after a long day of dealing with insaniety and she’d be here with these “taker” men and she’d have her entourage and I’d be Night after night stuck with her drunken stupid entourage, these “party folk” without a neutron to rub between them and all consumer mentality. Over and over I’d ask her not to invite them but there as always excuses. I’d say I had work to do but she’d say ‘just come aboard, we can have a joint, open a bottle, don’t mind Bill’.

 I had another friend I enjoyed who built his own sailboat.   We se Competnent accomplished men and women about but she’d always want id later learn were “lower companions” and she didn’t like my doctor friends or the women I knew who were mothers especially the ethnic doctor friends whose conversations of family excluded her and she want to join in the male doctor talk rather than staying w th female doctors. D had all here major accomplished friends who’s wit and charm and humor I’d so enjoyed but more and more she surrounded me with the drunks and addicts and this was my home and d sa n and she’d say yes. 

I had my friend from childhood. Everyone was different and unusual. I was writing. Some articles and poetry and playing guitar and writing songs.  We’d a dock band of sorts.  I loved the Friday night party which was a routine but hated these leeches being their during the week. I’d turn them away saying I’d need to study or needed to write but she’d invite them aboard if I wasn’t there and there’s no getting a drunk to leave while he has an open bottle, the other fellow a loner had no home to go and she’d be like this dock mom lust object and I’d not understand how she’d not stand with me even when I’d say very rudely you’ve got to go and she’d countermand it getting some weird thrill out of the divide and conquer and undermining my need for sleep on days when she didn’t work the next day and I did.

The boat world was very unusually characters.These entourage of low life she enjoyed were often people I paid to do a job which would then be delayed till I came home from work so they could combine their work and social life at my expense, I’d tak to these workers explain clearly they couldn’t be in my home at night and needed to do the work before we arrived but they were sociopaths, many of them in retrospect, and sh as drunk and stone and borderline and would not accept we had to be a combined front. For one year at least it was like living with teen ages.

 Others in the boat world with interesting neighbours. Lots of eccentricities. Lots of single men with limited social skills and good boat skills.  We’d work together.  Couples like us attracted these loners.  They had such rough edges and were so incredibly sensitive. It was a lot of work being around these single men but she and I when comfortable with each other had some  experiences. There was a major problem with ‘workmen’. They’d make major disruptions to our ‘home’ and then would hang round to be invited for dinner. They’d drink our wine and smoke our dope and literally take a long time and do poor work that had to be re done. This is a particular west coast sociopath character. There was always more work than available for the good workers and the rich yachts could pay whatever for work so there was this constant struggle with ‘help’ It was the real downside of boating. I’d do as much work as I could but every new addition would require bringing in help and so often these were sordid characters. There were solo female ships captains and other wives and I was popular with everyone cultivating friendships with other doctors and circumnavigating sailors, business owners, but she would not make friends with the amazingly accomplished boat owner women or the wives but was fixated at that early adolescent girl with the boys phase. She didn’t have girlfriends and whereas in my previous marriage we’d always entertained as family and friends she never nurtured relationships with the women though ai could see they would have been open to it. Instead she’d insist on these drunken single guys. 

She liked this one fellow because he had been to University of Toronto. The fact was he was a cocaine addict and she and he became best of friends while he was using his working on our boat to serve him as a base to steal from a half dozen of our neighbours. A week or two into this experience which she’d been so enjoying a neighbour told me about his ‘gig’.  Lots of arguments when I wanted him gone and then they had the power because they’d leave work half finished. If there was a workman sociopathic trick we learned it. That said we had some great experiences. 

We everntually sifted through the riff raft, the dregs having latched onto us early in our career.  We were so scared. New big boat. Engine problems rigging problems.  We’d have everything that could go wrong go wrong. Then we’d be dependent on someone who ‘knew’ and a whole lot of people who “don’t know claim to know.  Because we were working ,she in a regular hospital based job and me in a fixed private practice mainly psychotherapy with time and demands it was really difficult interfacing with what were often near barbarians. The social skills of so many of these low level workers was frightening.  Then we’d graduate to the next level and leave behind the riff raff as we learned that they didn’t know and met those who did. We really were rescued by my befriending a Maori who’d sailed here from New Zealand. He transformed our coastal sailor to an offshore sailor and didn’t hav baggage of addiction, personality disorder, or depression and paranoia, I loved his company and enjoyed his outlook and learned so much sailing and working with him. I was always working with the guys knowing I needed to learn a skill in case I’d need to solve a problem offshore. She never grasped the idea of independence so took a dilettante approach to the hard work of learning life saving matters. She’d learn some things while losing interest with others. I was learning everything and thankful for my Maori find who was a great teacher compared to several of the fellows who didn’t want to She their limited skills as this was their liveliihood meanwhile all where using my psychiatric and medical skills and knowledge being in my company, often draining , demanding and soul sucking. By contrast the Maori was a breath of fresh air who fell in love with my friends native daughter and it was just a great time his fresh breeze blowing way the dying addicts who he as a man had no time for. So together we overruled my partner who could rise to the occasion but clung so desperately at times to the addicts.

We’d meet Eric at Stevenston’s Marine and Steveston’s Marine itself would help. Suddenly we had this honorable man guiding us. We’d get great advice. He’d sailed with his partner to Hawaii and back and worked in parts.  D make a life long friend with him from this time and our time together in Blue Water Sailing Association. Slowly but surely we sorted out who really knew and who could be trusted. I loved those people I’d eventually know who were the back bone of the industry.   Our lives depended on the work that people did and by the time we actually did go offshore we had a truly skookum boat.  

The New Zealand Maori after he  sailed into Harbour across the Pacific would worke for us for the next three months putting finishing offshore touches on our boat. Rewired the whole ship to make it accessible. My depressive aspergers Christian friend was doing skookum work then too though he was always so emotionally loud  my Maori friend was bright and shining. It was an amazing time.

I loved the fishing and sailing. There is nothing like anchoring in a secluded harbour and living and loving the weekend away.  I can’t expresss the joy of the west coast sailing and the love we knew on decks, below decks, in gang ways. We were young and alive and life was good.  I especially loved our times in Victoria Harbour.  Fine restaurant dining, shopping and then heading back out in the ocean and taking ourselves back to Vancouver.  I loved being able to go anywhere on my own.  I loved that sense that I could leave at any moment and head anywhere in the world. I loved the sheer freedom. Yet we were loving our lives, enjoying our work, having this incredible life. It was indescribable but of course I was writing and photographing and making movies trying to do just that, describe this little bit of heaven.  Mostly when we were alone together, way from the dock, away from her family, away from our work, we were happy kids knowing the joys of west coast living accomplishing so much in so little time, 

The Social Terrorism of "I'm concerned" COMPLAINTs, Anonymity and False Accusation

Increasingly in Canada bureaucrats have extraordinary powers and are involved in every aspects of peoples existence.  Unfortunately they are commonly poorly trained, woefully inexperienced and no longer the ‘service’ of yesteryear but now the unionized ‘fat cat’ elites with security, power, benefits and pension. They are attracted less by duty and charity and more by money and petty power and most importantly the lack of accountability that government extends to it’s ‘loyal’ servants.
I just heard of several more ‘I’m concerned’ complaints.  In all cases a passive aggressive sociopath called an agency ‘anonymously’ and advised that agency that they were ‘concerned’ . The ‘concerned’ citizens, once an asset to the community, are now the root of its destruction .They are increasingly just a ‘jail house snitch’ with an agenda.  
Without disclosing details that would expose the individuals these are the three scenarios that I learned of this week.  I’ve encountered these hundreds of times in the past most commonly when I worked on drunken “wet” northern Indian reserves and also in the DTES  urban ghetto. This has however  now  migrated to middle class society and beyond.
A professional “fired" an employee and the employee contacted the licensing body for the professional claiming that they were ‘concerned’ about that professional’s judgement and mental health.  I presumed they learned this ‘technique’ of vengefulness watching the continued caricature of this which has polluted the American political arena.
President Trump having survived countless attacks on his sanity, character, and ability to lead most recently passed ‘dementia’ tests.
A group of the most unprofessional psychiatrists in history came forward and without ‘permission’ or ‘having examined’ the patient proceeded to suggest the President was mentally ill solely because he was a Republican and they were Democrat psychiatrists.  Further  his policy changes would affect their ‘fat cat’ bureaucratic positions.  They indeed expressed their ‘concern’ and presented themselves as ‘helping’.
Meanwhile there has been a non partisan military mechanism in place for assessment and monitoring of the ‘commander in chief’. These “appointed” doctors and psychiatrists are there to serve as a ‘check and balance’.  The group of arrogant psychiatrists had no right to abuse their positions and over ride the democratic institutions. Yet these low brow thugs justified’ their ‘political assault’ on the President and democracy by claiming they were ‘concerned’. The fact is they were self serving narcissists of the lowest common denominator. These  bullies and social terrorists were quite willing to destroy the democracy, the impartiality of psychiatry,, and it’s institutions for their own personal gain. All the while they hid behind the increasingly creepy clown mask of the ‘concerned’ do gooder.
The professional in this case was suddenly ‘assessed’ by a mental health ‘team’ based on the ‘anonymous tip'. The process in the end costs thousands of dollars and was extremely frightening and abusive.  The professional felt that they were in a Communist/Fascist police state and that any ‘enemy’ could on the basis of their ‘allegation’ bring the full power of the government against the individual. Though vindicated , that individual, was denied being told who initiated the vicious attack The anonymous swaggering “concerned”  aggressor  by contrast would be rewarded with the knowledge that through  a phone call or a letter or a visit to the government office they could wield such power and destruction without any cost to themselves.    In this individual instance, they might have stayed anonymous if they hadn’t chosen to expose themselves to gloat.
I have had patients by the dozens brag about their doing this to their enemies. Mostly it’s been women fighting with other women and calling some Child Protection Agency to claim that they were “concerned”  about the ‘child’ of their sworn enemy.  This was indeed nature of the second case  I heard of this week.
A false accusation was made anonymously and this triggered  a public investigation of the husband ,wife, and children with neighbours and teachers being questioned. This occurred after the individual attacked refused to let their neighbour use their garage. The neighbour had drug addiction and increasingly has felt entitled to the property of neighbours. When  neighbours refused to loan tools or allow party cars to park on their lawns,  each one had been ‘punished’ in some such “concerned” way.  The trauma to the victims is not negligible especially as the children’s teachers are questioned and the ‘suggestion’ is always left ‘where there is smoke there is fire’.  Those without character are always happy to attack those with character.
The last one I heard about this week was regarding a dispute between two drivers about ‘territory’.  The aggressor wanted more ‘territory’ and when they were refused, the victim had the experience of having to do an alcohol and drug abuse assessment because of an anonymous call saying ‘I”m concerned."
In all these instances the individuals and families were exonerated and vindicated. The cost however was exorbitant,  the trauma likely long lasting and painful. The experience of  ‘bureurocratic police violence’ initiated by psychopaths and sociopaths destroys the fabric of the social contract.  Individuals need to feel ‘safe’ in society and the very bureaucracies tasked and paid outrageously for this service have become the principle threat to individuals. This corruption is what precedes and permeates failed states the likes of what is now unfolding in South Africa as it did before in Zimbabwe. (aka Rhodesia)  Police states such as the USSR and China thrive on and reward the informer. This “I’m concerned’ is therefore not a laughing matter.  My East European colleague did joke about the  police state he escaped from saying,  ‘we all knew one of us was an informer if two of us were talking and a third joined us.”
Research has repeatedly shown that bureaucratic agencies are utterly incompetent of recognizing psychopaths and sociopaths. Desperately wanting to be seen as ‘good’ and “caring’ , and utterly fearing loss of their protected cushy committee positions, they  err on the side of becoming the agent of social violence in their false belief that they are ‘protecting the community’.
By contrast judges trained to address ‘motive’ and well versed in the manipulative cunning deceits of sociopaths and psychopaths commonly correct the bureaucratic errors of these pseudo judicial agencies that increasingly in such cases are little more than ‘Kangaroo Courts’.  Judicial oversight unfortunately is too costly and the legal system due to the intrinsic high cost serves mostly the governemnt and the wealthy and powerful.
As the country devolves to a third world state it behooves us all to demand that these increasingly corrupted  quasi judicial bureurocratic committees have their inordinate power vastly curtailed.  In addition  individuals who wield such power must  have the training in the psychology and passive and overtly aggressive techniques of the ‘I’m concerned” aggressors. They must be taught what real justices know about the the techniques of the usually charming and seductive sociopaths and psychopaths that routinely abuse others and the community at large.  
A judge knows that the “I’m concerned’ is often the opening gambit of sophisticated assault.  Hitler always said he was ‘concerned’ before he invaded a neighbouring country.

Prayer and Jesus

Luke 18
1.“Then Jesus told his disciples a parable to show them they should always pray and not give up.
2.He said, “In a certain town there was a judge who neither feared God nor cared what people thought.
3. And there was a widow in that town who kept coming to him with the plea, “Grant me justice against my adversary.”
4. “For some time he refused. But finally he said to himself, “Even though I don’t fear God or care what people think
5. yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will see that she gets justice,
so that she won’t eventually come back and attack me!"
6. And the Lord said, “Listen to what the unjust judges says.
7. And will not God bring about justice for his chosen ones, who cry out to him day and night? Will he keep putting them off?
8. I tell you, he will see that they get justice , and quickly. However when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on the earth?"

I am again being falsely accused. I am troubled that the courts in Canada have become like the Communist inviting  false witnesses to give power to the State and cause every truthful man or women to live in fear. Totalitarian and police states encourage all to report on their neighbours and celebrate those most those who lie and attack Christians and good and true officials.
I cry night and day “Grant me justice against my adversary”.  But I struggle to understand if my adversary is the individual psychopath or psychotic or the system that does not protect good men who do their work.
There are untold odious complaints and false testimonies against doctors who work with two types of patients
1) those with drug and alcohol problems.  If any one knows drug addicts or alcoholic they know well what vengeful and petty individuals they can be when they are in their cups or hung over.  The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous based on the honest assessment of their individuals in recovery noted that Resentment and Fear were central features of their universally immature character.  Resentment was the central fuel of their addiction.  Bitterness.  They commonly live in the past and hold grudges and their fear of retaliation is such that they are often paranoid for periods of time.  These are the people who are quick to complaint, easily offended, don’t like to cut anyone slack but demand it for themselves.  They fill the courts and their letters to the editor are endless. They are the cause of many wars ever waiting to restart some old conflict in the hope of getting even.
2) those who are involved are dissatisfied with their employer and are getting paid to stay home from work by an insurance company.. Their anger with their employer is more often concerning deep seated issues against authority tied to their earliest childhood, neglectful or outright abusive parents.  The doctor is called upon to write a letter to say that they cannot work because of some condition.  With physical medicine this isn’t as threatening for the doctor because when the injury heals there is obvious evidence that the patient is well so return to work should follow.  There are objective measures.  In psychiatry the issue is far far worse because the complaints are invariably about something ‘subjective’ such as “pain”, “dizziness”, “fatigue”, “depression”,  “anxiety”.  With Borderlines Personality Disorders, like Paranoid Personality Disorders, people are seen in black and white categories. Lawyers who defend people against sometimes callous insensitive greedy insurance companies are often as as difficult as insurance company companies who are occasionally callous insensitive and greedy.  There is a conflict inherent in this situation made worse by the inexperience or agendas of the lawyers and the insurance agents. The psychiatrist who is required by law to be as ‘objective’ and ‘impartial’ as possible is called upon to express an ‘opinion’.  The psychiatrist is however by ethical oath an ‘advocate’ for the patient.  He can not lie but he will be as supportive and understanding of her concern as possible.  To this end I report the patients concerns clearly and measure their subjective complains and write formulations that attempt to see the best in people, some of whom are malingering sociopaths.  I “diagnosed’ sociopaths and malingerers by the dozens in the past but I was told that this was unacceptable and really it was now a matter for the courts and judge to assess this. Further if I stated the obvious that a person was a sociopath,psycopath or malingerer in my opinion the patient would definitely complain to the College of Physicians who might well agree but punish me to the tune of $10,000 tying me up in a legal beaurocratic malaise that gave them raison d’être and made them and lawyers rich but definitively punished me to no end.  I have been punished repeated to the cost of hundreds of thousands of dollars for telling the truth as a doctor.
So I don’t diagnose people as sociopaths, psychopaths or malingerers anymore.  Naturally it’s like any doctor who is told that he cannot diagnose ‘appendicitis’ or some such not uncommon diagnosis in their field.  Our textbooks and diagnositic formulations all include these diagnosis but ‘smart’ doctors especially those most interested in ‘business’ just know not to diagnose anything that would be ‘unpopular’ with patients. Rich doctors must be liked and popular. It was for this reason and it continues to a lesser extent that most doctors won’t diagnose alcoholism, addiction or even sometimes mental illness.  They don’t want to lose the patient.
Regardless today I support patients and generally don’t think of them as psychopaths , sociopaths or malingerers because as their doctor I really want to ‘give them the benefit of the doubt’. Even when I learn they are unable to work because it’s too tough for them to sit at a desk for 2 hours because of their pain but they fly 12 hours to vacation spots and back, well it does seem suspicious but I am there to be helpful not to be a judge. The judge will sort this out because so often in these cases too the insurance company will hire a psychiatrist who will quickly see how ‘incongruent’ the patients statements are and even note that while the patient can’t do ‘their’ job they are nonetheless working under the table or doing things for family and friends which would constitute work.  One person who ‘couldn’t work’ had a family business running out of the basement. Anyone who has worked with insurance companies knows just how sadly common this is especially in those who do not share an ethical or moral basis  of the greater community.
When patients are angry with doctors because the doctor is perceived as a threat they don’t complain about the doctor specifically being a threat to their desire to get their‘ money for nothing’  because of deep seated issues of entitlement but rather will make their complaint ‘powerful’ as possible.  Single male doctors are therefore with women always ‘sexually harassing’ simply because there is no basis to ‘sexual harassment’ except a he said, she said complaint much like the subjective complain of ‘fatigue’.  One female theif who called her accuser ‘sexually harassing’ actually called the policeman who investigated ‘sexually harassing’ and the Vancouver police department would not follow up on the case because of the fear and cost of this complaint to date to their members.  In all cases there is no ‘objectivity’ to the complaint but it remains as a ‘character assassination’ and it’s done for profit as the patient in these work place issues is trying to get ‘money for nothing’ and ‘time off work’.
Many companies have successfully reduced these kinds of situations by allowing workers to be off work in a company club house or cafeteria but not allowing them to go home to be paid.  One of the sure signs of malingering or alternatively factitious disorder is the refusal of patients to attend group therapy or any group situation because when there is a group malingerers sociopaths and psychopaths know that their ‘sickness behaviour’ might be filmed or witnessed by others when they are not aware. In one to one interviews it’s easy to maintain the ‘sham’ but in the group process there are just too many variables and even a person with a decided limp might forget to do it in the complexity of groups. Naturally Insurance companies when they believe a person is a sociopath , psychopath or malingerer will want the person with the psycihaitric illness to attend a group. Further group therapy is to psychiatrists the very best of therapy and a central cornerstone of psychiatric hospitalization.  There is really little reason for a person not to attend group therapy.
Yet this is when the ‘I’m agoraphobic and I’m social phobic ‘ or “I’m too fatigued to get out of bed” . In the past they were hospitlized at this point and the ‘truth would out’ . One of my patients couldn’t ‘walk’ , but the nurse noted that he sneaked out of his bed at night to use the washroom so I diagnosed him as a ‘malingerer’ and naturally he complained to the authorities , right up to the Minister of Health, that I was a Fascist.  I miss the hospital as it was the very best psychiatric intervention for sorting this matter out.
Without hospital resources psychiatrists are now at increased threat and risk from dangerous patients.
Further in Canada there is a horrendous unconscionable lack of consequence for PERJURY.  The 10 Commandments says “Thou shalt not Bear False Witness’ but in this anti Christian, anti Bible, Anti Truth, Anti doctor country I have been utterly utterly frustrated and countless times in tears for doing my job and trying to help patients to the best of my ability with all my training and experience but only to be faced with complaints because I continue to work with people who have drug and alcohol problems and who are out of work and in conflict with their insurance companies..
The sad thing is that I have been able to help hundreds or thousands of people and the proverbial ‘bad’ apple is one in a hundred.  Most of my patients who have anxiety or pain or depression offered ‘group therapy’ jump at the opportunity. Patients who want to get better will do everything to so and yet there are those for whom treatments don’t work but they don’t pick and chose and refuse to be in any situation where they are under observation.  They welcome a chance to prove their truthfulness.
Patients with drug and alcohol problems are harmed by those who lie and enable their disease. I make the diagnosis as frankly as I do cancer. Being diagnosed with alcoholism or addiction is like being told you have cancer but if doctors don’t tell their patients the truth they patients are at greater risk.
I never think of patients as the adversary.  I thinks the system or the authorities are at fault because they know these aren’t ‘isolated’ cases yet they punish the doctors who work with these difficult groups. Most of my much smarter and more clever and more business oriented colleagues simply say no to seeing patients with drug and alcohol problems or work problems or with superego lacunae.  I see people who are murderers and prostitutes and often very dangerous and often very unclean and smelling very badly and I know my colleagues and the government in general denies them care by neglect or a countless series of barriers to treatment but I work with these people but I get upset, forgive me jesus, for being stabbed in the back over and over again by the very people who are supposed to be serving the same people I am.
I am not the enemy.
I am a Christian who when I was going to work in Africa was told by Dr. Jack Hildes Canada has as many people who are need missionary doctors because our health care services don’t treat the marginalized.  I have followed his advise and worked in the areas of ‘greatest need’ but I’m old and tired and reduced to crying by my bedside where my mother taught me to pray on my knees.
GOD GRANT ME JUSTICE AGAINST MY ADVERSARIES.

Social Housing and Nimbyism

The Neighbour began violently banging on the walls at 6 am. I was quietly dressing to catch a cross country flight.  The banging went on for 10 minutes and was so forceful as to cause the pictures to fall off the wall.  My friend, who I was staying over with said,
“That’s the neighbour, she’s always banging on the walls and ceiling.  Everyone has complained.  I’ve even complained to the super.  Nothing is done."
Suddenly the banging is on the door.  My friend opens her door.  She is tired and in her housecoat. The neighbour is wide eyed, crazy, yelling.
“Stop banging on my walls,” she shouts.  My friend holds up her arm to stop the young woman from barging into her suite.  She backs up screaming ‘Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me.”  Every action, every statement is an sophisticated attack. She, the aggressor, is positioning herself as the victim.  “You bang on my walls every morning at 8:30.” It’s 6 am I’ve been getting ready quietly so as not to disturb my friend.  She usually leaves for work before 8:30.  But that isn’t the point, is it.  This is a distraction.  She’s attacking here and now.
My psychiatrist mind has flipped into gear because of the danger she presents. She’s either psychotic or a sophisticated borderline sociopath.  She’s sweating profusely. That could be from the banging or she may be in withdrawal.  Her irritability could be heroin withdrawal but such paranoid projection is more common with marijuana psychosis, crystal meth or heroin psychosis. My crystal meth patients become like this.
Of course she doesn’t look like the stereotype of the mentally ill or addicted. She’s well groomed, maybe 40’s, plain but not unnattractive.  My friend says she has a job.  The rent for suites here is standard Vancouver , well over a thousand. It’s a nice neighbourhood but no neighbourhood is safe from drugs or even sociopaths.
The whole idea of ’social housing’ has the drug addicted and ex convicts increasingly housed in nice communities because such orderly civilized environments ameliorate the insanity and violence of these populations. It’s like the distribution of difficult children in normal classrooms. The normal students provide structure for the ill mannered.  The alternative is the ghetto. The Vancouver Downtown Eastside is a breeding grounds for crime, violence, drug addiction and insanity.
Government agencies, civil and human rights associations, ex convict advocacy activists, mental health agencies, families of the ex convicts and the mentally ill, all serve to get their individual concerns cared for in the best of districts. At the other end of the spectrum the rich and privileged don’t accept ‘social housing’.  They have gated communities. They are protected by their wealth.  The middle class can no longer afford the same so increasingly they’ve turned to Nimbyism.  Not In My Back Yard.
The whole idea of ’social housing’ developed 50 years ago.  That was the height of community movements, middle class values, law and order. The police and authorities in general were widely supported by the citizens.  So many of the adults had returned from World War II.  They had seen up close what ‘chaos’ was like.  They’d seen or heard about the concentration camps. The Jewish doctors, gay composers, ethnic minorities and anyone different had been gassed.  The Soviets had raped everyone in their ‘liberation" especially teen age girls and boys.  After the long nightmare, everyone wanted peace and order.
It’s 2015.  The police have no authority.  My police friend left the force when she said “I set out to be a crime fighter.  I was reduced to being a ‘crime recorder’.  Police are simply not allowed to do anything. When they catch criminals red handed  rich lawyers  get privileged judges to let their clients off on a ‘technicality’. “  Justice is a revolving door.
I treat victims of physical sexual violence. They’ve lost limbs. They have nightmares for years.  They’re still in treatment for the horrifying consequences of their assaults when the criminals are being released back into the community.  They’re terrified. Some of my patients are the victimizers. They’re terrifying.
Increasingly the judges, once the admired back bone of society are being exposed by the rapacious media.  Everywhere the media exposes to the masses the one bad apple and demands an enquiry into the whole barrels. There’s no money for front line resources so police and mental health care givers are forever forced to cut corners or ignore all the while million dollar enquiries make everyone rich writing up more plans and protocols that no budget has resources to address.. Media logic goes like this.   One northern judge in British Columbia was caught for pedophlia so all judges are pedophiles. The former head of the Supreme Court of Canada was a slurring alcoholic so all judges are drunks and alcoholics.  The judges increasingly are throwing the police under the bus, more concerned apparently with popularity than justice.    Everyone in authority knows there will be no one to protect them in retirement.  When the police learned that the proposed new gun laws for disarm police on retirement suddenly the police were no longer en mass in favour of highly restrictive gun laws.  All those in the know want to be living in a gated community. Private security firms prosper like never before.
The industry of housing as “mental health and addiction’ treatment simply  takes the money from true treatment, psychiatrists, physicians,  nurses, psychologists, addictionists, counsellors, standardized scientific therapies and certified treatment facilities and certified recovery houses with treatment components. They give the money instead to ’slum landlords’. These smart businessmen raise the ‘rent’ on their unliveable facilities because they’re overnight called ’social housing.  When the tenants destroy them the landlords give the repair bills to the health care system.  When the facilities are repaired to a liveable state they rent them out at high priced Vancouver prices to ‘normal’ people who now will live in these improved bed bug and cockroach free apartment complexes. The money designated for addiction has paid for the upgrades.
Meanwhile with ‘social housing’ the violent, the insane and the drug addicted are distributed through communities. They’re ’somebody’ else’s problem”.
Psychiatrist used to be able to ‘committ’ for treatment the mentally ill who were violently insane and destructive in the community. Yet today the government has closed down all the asylum and mental health beds with the result that there are simply no resources. The ‘bar’ for admission to a psychiatric facility is raised so high that even psychotic schizophrenics who publicly chop off the heads of their neighbours are quickly discharged  free in the community.  The assumption is that these patients are taking medications that will stop them from being violent. The trouble is that there are so few resources that when patients stop taking medications its often months or another violent episode before anyone notices that they are no longer getting their monthly injections or following up with the treatment team.  The sex offenders from the criminal system are similarly placed in the community with marvellous ‘parole’ and ‘probation’ idealized recommendations.  These pretty documents no doubt make judges feel good about their ‘intent’. The trouble is with no jails and no community staff and castrated  police and a thoroughly unnaccountable destructive deceitful media and vigilantte Facebook justice, there’s no follow through in fact.
When I said to the crazy lady, “You were the one hammering on the wall. We both heard you and you need to leave.”  She shouted spitting in my face, “Shut the fuck up you fucking old man.”  I backed away.
I am old. I’m in my 60’s.  My friend is in her 50’s.  She’s focused her life on health care administration and raising children. She has no training in dealing with criminals or psychotics or violent young women who know all the angles and claim they’re the victim. They have a monopoly of victimship and can bring massive beaurocratic  governmental to bear on kindly innocent people like my friend, the sweet older quiet lady, who has never harmed anyone.  Everyone she has ever met will speak to her good manners and respect for others and loving nature. This woman likely has a rap sheet a mile long. Yet the courts and agencies no longer respect individual histories. Everyone is equal before the law.  Character doesn’t count in the courts. In the street Vigillante justice runs on how many people you know and how many hits you can get on Facebook by taking a video out of context.  Just be sure to sound politically correct.
I work in the mental health and addiction field.  People like her don’t ‘just happen’.  She had all the ‘lingo’ rehearsed.  The best defence is an offence.  She was like Hitler where claimed his destructive tank blitzkriegs were ‘defence.’  Politically correctness is all in the language. Get the right marketing jingo and everyone will believe you should pick up the lump end by the clean end and that this clean end exists and is apparent to all.  The neighbour went from loud to catastrophic. She’s a ticking bomb, a social terrorist. Now’s she’s hammering on walls and ceilings and doors. What will she do next.  My  friend admits that everyone in the building is afraid of her.  She certainly frightened me.
I’ve always been afraid of drug addicts. I know the neuroscience of drug addiction. I’ve watched my little cockapoo dog growl defensively, whenever anyone delirious on marijuana, crack or crystal meth approaches. Animals sense the unpredictability of people who are emotionally anaethetized  bubble boys and girls. These people are able to inflict all manner of emotional and physical trauma without feeling anything in return because they’re drugged.  They’re also always the ‘victim’. Right.
Theres’ a tug of war between the rich with ‘gated communities’ and the new ‘bunker houses’. These two or more story bunker houses were all the rage in medieval towns. Then a family home had to stand against the riots that plagued the city.   Few if any small windows on the lower floor with the big windows on the second or third floor. Reinforced doors.  That’s what the rich have begun to demand.
Barricaded private complexes are a response to the increasing decline of law and order. The public structures are all but collapsing into increasing chaos and brute force rule.  If my friend hadn’t put up her hand to stop this woman pushing her way forward she might well have barged in. Bullies take advantage when they see weakness.     This neighbour would have phoned the police  too and claimed she’d been assaulted if it was one on one. The first come first serve justice system gives the edge to the complainant.  Criminals and frequent fliers know the system.  Everyone knows in Canada that ‘false allegations’ are standard but that there’s never any consequence.  As one judge asked about slander said, “everyone lies in court, it’s my job to assess whose lying more.”
Everyone doesn’t lie and no judge can do what lie detector tests and countless psychological scientific studies have proved.  But what we do know in psychopaths can act better than the innocent. The innocent are no longer the victims.  Everyone is the new ‘victim’.  "Nobody is right when everyone is wrong."  The criminals all know the system and rule because frankly there is no other authority.
“Shut the fuck up you fucking old man!”
There is lawlessness here and now.  The question is when will the media do it’s job and report that.  Will parliaments and congress make the pendulum swing back to the centre. Will judges be supported in making the tough decisions.  Will the rich want to face the ‘peasants’ again.  Have they so quickly forgotten what saying ‘give them cake’ caused.  Do the corporate czars really think they can protect themselves from the Lennins of this world.  The middle classes, the truthful,  the educated, the professionals, the artisans, the engineers, the businessmen, all those whose represent the meritocracy, will they be protected because they don’t do well in chaos. The Pol Pot killed the doctors and university teachers first then killed half the country later throwing a once thriving country into the dark ages.
Hitlers first act was to make the Brown Shirts. The brown shirts became his personal army. They were made up of pedophiles, drug addticts, criminally insane and sociopaths, bullies.
A day doesn’t go by when I don’t hear of a person being brutalized by their neighbours.  The real fear of investing a million dollars in a Vancouver property is not the predicted tsunami and earthquakes but more importantly the very reall possibility of the dangerous or just offensive neighbour.  I know of dozens and dozens of such cases.
Personally I’ve lived the last few years in what is essentially a gated community.  After hearing so often of such complaints I witnessed first hand what is perhaps best called ‘evil’.  When the psychotic is powerful there is little language to capture the depth of insanity one must face.
I feel sorry for my friend.  I get to leave.  Her sleep has been disturbed many nights.  My day began with a threatening confrontation which my friend says is routine, If she’s not banging on her door she’s banging on the woman above her, the man beside her, shouting in the halls or threatening people coming through the vestibule with her.  She’s clearly way out of control and has been for a very long time.  No one is a bout to control her soon because frankly the system will punish the good rather than engage with this evil.  The system lacks the mechanism, resolve or even the intelligence to address it.  It’s not an individual.  It’s a disease.
If it’s not in your neighbourhood.  It’s coming.  It is coming to your neighbourhood.  

Bad people are always crazy

"Bad people are always crazy," Dead Eye said. "That's why they do what they do. And sometimes it takes crazy guys like me and Uncle Boomer to go out there and stop them."

Quote from Apaches an excellent detective novel by Lorenzo
Carcaterra.

While this is probably right, and it does simplify things, what is implied if not stated outright is that 'crazy' people aren't always bad.

Sociopaths and their Communication

Another observation on sociopaths and their communications to add to their narcissism, narcissistic entitlement, compulsive lying, denial and chronic rationalization is their insistence that they are cool and calm whereas you are  'over reacting' or even 'hysterical'.

They like to appear 'rational' which can be a product of their lack of feeling or sensitivity or a consequence of anesthetization by drugs or alcohol.  The fact is they are emotionally 'shallow' and lacking depth are 'still' like 'stagnant' waters, definitely not deep by any stretch of the imagination.

They have a hurtful and insensitive behaviour which reflects their intense jealousy and envy of others especially the majority of individuals who are clearly more emotionally developed than them and often have true accomplishments that make these latter individuals admired.

Sociopaths lack essential boundaries usually because of an overly sexualized relationship with their mothers especially if they are male. Whether the mother has encouraged this perception is a separate issue. Females will have serious sexual issues either oversexualized or innappropriately asexual and will misperceive adult sexual behaviour because of their lack of truly adult sexual emotional development , The fact remains that male or female they are developmentally fixated at a point where they are unable to differentiate them selves truly with others. What is good for them they assume is good for everyone else. They do not feel themselves causing pain but really do experience pain when others reflect back to them what they 'dish out'.  They can 'give it' but they simply cannot 'take it'.  They 'feed' on people and graze through social networks using up families and friends often by excessive demand for attention, influence or loans of money.

Lacking a separation of self from the other and being truly ego centric they simply lack feelings for others and only feel for themselves.  Professionals collectively describe them as pathologically narcissistic.  They appear to love their children as long as their children 'mirror' them and will love their families as long as their families don't question their often bizarre and privately insane behaviour. The most disturbed  will threaten to kill their wives, will kill their children and commonly are the ones one reads about in newspapers as stalking and killing their families. These are the individuals also who kill a co worker over a minor 'slight' yet appeared quite normal to those who didn't really know them, were new to their social network, yet probably had seem them reacting apparently 'rational' and saying to someone else that 'they' were 'over reacting'.

Hence when they are hurting and uncaring of others they see others as 'over reacting' and 'being hysterical'. However, most commonly these boy men and girl women, hurt themselves are the worst squealers, whiners and drama queens. They inflict pain without concern but hurt  themselves they become big babies and scream and sometimes even pee. They rage and pout and were it not for their outward adult appearances would be recognised for exactly what they are.  In psychiatry wards they are given frequent 'time outs' and in jails they spend inordinate amount of time in solitary.  They lack the developmental capacity of understanding laws in an abstract sense and only respond to laws as 'threat' and 'potential hurt'.  Lacking any true sense of  family or community they can't comprehend really anything so sophisticated as the 'golden rule'.  They principally operate on the simple hedonistic rule of 'if it feels good do it' and 'if it hurts others, don't get caught'.

Threatened they lack all manner of adult behaviour and devolve into infantile gestures and sometimes even assume fetal positions. Considering their over sensitivity to any even minor insult to themselves in contrast to their own grossly insulting and damaging behaviour they try desperately to produce the greatest level of 'victimship' because they lack higher levels of inhibition. When they 'steal' and 'assault' others they try to cover up the damages with 'talk' and 'promises'.  Unfortunately they are all talk and talk is cheap, especially when it lacks any connection to reality but rather comes with the lies and magical thinking of their highly distorted inner fantasy world.

The borderline variants of sociopaths especially the male borderline sociopaths are this odd mix of outward manliness and sadistic or passive aggressive tough boy behaviour coupled with this truly unseemly girlish behaviour when ever they themselves aren't on top, winning or being seen positively. Homophobia often is their way of covering up their latent homosexuality.  Further they are commonly antisemetic or identify with neo nazi elements.   They imagine emotional abuse where none is and have a chronic almost paranoid flavour whenever they are not being adulated.

Splitting is essential to their undeveloped character so they see people in black and white terms, as either you're all for me or all against me. At times this becomes overt paranoia and they can rant for hours about someone who has harmed them when usually the person is someone who has not tolerated their abuse and attack.

 If they ran face first into a stationary brick wall they'd insist the wall was out to get them and coming at them. Given the depth of their infantile fixation the world is all about them and metaphorically bite the nipple with intense sadism then complain vociferously if their "victims"  and "prey" pull back or avoid them.






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