Mental Health History Start

If you've read this website in the order presented, you know my work for God, an absence of recognition, a forced mental disability diagnosis, and my Prophetic name left out of some Bible translations.   In order to explore the cause from every angle, I should disclose that at nineteen years old I was forced into a ten day forced mental evaluation, which led to a ten week long semi-voluntary psychiatric hospital stay in a private hospital.   After that I was declared free from mental illness.

That's where I was essentially cured of my adolescent delinquency.   Not by any treatment, but from a procedural mistake, in combination with God's intervention.   I was administered a medicine I'd never taken before, in what the doctor described as "a trial", and then immediately released to a field trip, with about ten other patients.   I began to suffer a seizure, in a rare form, just after we'd all entered the cinema, and because of staffing requirements, the entire trip was canceled.

I was convulsing all over, as we loaded up for a return trip a couple of miles away.   Once there, I was assisted to my room, and injected with a common antidote.   While waiting for the uncontrolled movement and excruciating pain to subside, I realized God was present in my thoughts for the first time in many years, and enjoying my pain.   I thought back on how far I had deviated from a life of respect for others.   A few years later, when I started my written Prophecy, I was described as a 'great sinner' by God.   The prophetic and actual reason given for my hospitalization was "homeless, and exposed to the cold."

I'm disclosing this because I suspect two of the other patients, although probably not on that field trip, were family of U.S. spies (FBI or Detectives), another two were motivated by foreign interests, and one or more of them were following a path to eliminate my Biblical identity.

After the seizure, the doctor put me on a medication recess, and then I started another in the same class, for about two weeks, because the psychiatrist wanted to "try it, to see if it changes anything."   After, he decided there was no change, and he told me he planned to release me.   During our last conversation, I told him I was planning to enlist, and he agreed in silence.

However, after a moment he added a gruff caveat, with self-doubt about his decision to release me homeless, "You have problems."   There was probably a reason he wasn't happy with me on the way out.   I had witnessed part of a dangerous spontaneous panic by the teenagers of one floor of the hospital dorm, while the common recreation room was being shared with adults.   I had repelled every romantic advance from several of the the female teenagers until then, but seeing that the hospital could have theoretically cost a life or two, I accepted one of the propositions.

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Massachusetts Authoritarian Abuse

The night before that hospitalization, I slept in my Grandmother's empty unheated cottage for the night, and I think reporters were tipped that someone of affluent upbringing, or even a future Prophet was going homeless.   A photgrapher took a very intentional picture from a footbridge while I drove under, and the next day this contrived front page of the Boston Globe was published, connected to the cottage location and my hometown.

Years later, Plymouth Police action on White Horse Beach where the cottage is located, and where one alternate landmark rock of two in the town is found, led to my alleged disability.   Imagine my mindset, after receiving two dozen non-spiritual but grateful Senatorial responses to my first contacts, and then needing to put up with local police harassments.   I was stopped and asked for my identification three times, when the summer before I had canvassed the immediate area with my Prophecy basically as far as the eye can see, on Sundays.   They were influenced by this contrived newspaper's front page.    

The marquee rock at White Horse resembles a dead horse.   Massachusetts still swears-in the Governor, and State Police as "Christians", when only a melting pot of religions is national fidelity.   Did both build on the cult of Massachusetts's establishment of religion, for competing policemen?   Are they creating an exit strategy from the U.S. Constitution?

Plymouth Police projected their illness, and I reacted with public protest.   Then they asked for court mandated psychiatric evaluations leading to my extended hospitalization twice.   A Judge was so intimidated or convinced by them at one point he asked for a warrant of apprehension while I was already under an extended apprehension he initiated, and after I had been cleared by a special court (I initiated a Judicial Review for that, followed ma.gov instructions, and learned they were farcical).

A Veteran...

I had my vision fitting Biblical description while in the U.S. Army, and I was actually thinking reluctantly during God's appointment, as I'd planned my future to be low-key, after my mental health scare.   Despite my still holding crass traits from my upbringing, I'd started to make a big mark in the Army, although eventually I was discharged at the lowest rank, with less than two years of enlistment.

In a yearly two-mile running test of half of my battalion, I was the second fastest, but I lost to the only Sargent to participate, so I might have been the fastest for my classification.

I was invited to the U.S. Military Academy Preparatory School (USMAPS).   I was too old to officially qualify, but I reasoned maybe Westpoint needed an alternate, or made exceptions.   One of my Captains signed my application, but I never heard back.

Another time, I was asked to qualify on a grenade launcher, and I broke the giant cement target in half, that stood for probably decades, as well as making all my other shots.

I also played on the quasi-Fort's soccer team in the civilian league, where my team won the championship, although they were all close games.   I can declare for myself I was the star defense player.

While on crutches and after appearing for a head count, I was recalled after hobbling up two flights of stairs in pain.   I refused the order, and ended up with a "General Discharge under Honorable Conditions" in December 1983.

In another year, I had shed every impulse to use my vulgar speech.

Summer 2024 - Blue Hills Reservation, Quincy, Massachusetts

40 Minutes into the Skyline Trail

My Very Poor Health

Around 2015 was the first time I considered myself disabled.   As I said on the front page here, "I was told directly I would remain in a state mental hospital until I accepted Social Security support..." and, "... I reacted with public protest. Then they asked for court mandated psychiatric evaluations ..."   Obviously, from reading this website, I don't fit into the DSM-5 (diagnosis manual), but in my opinion, I now have a physical disability that does keep me from employment.

My fingers have gone through several stages since foreign matter, introduced into my right index finger at a very young age, when I checked the tension on my bicycle chain and ran the sprocket through the nail, began to dissolve.   At first, in the early '90s, at around age 30, I had a repeating blister on that finger and I began to have headaches.   They eventually became severe, and lasted about sixteen years.   Gradually, probably in 2000, I began to see blisters on the other fingers.   The breakouts used to be on my fingertips palmside, but lactic acid cream and steroids now protect them, or the malady has changed course.  They now manifest themselves under my fingernails or around the cuticle.

In 2009 I was forced out of work shifts because my hands started to react severely to the dampness, exposures, and ammonia cleaners I needed to use in my Patient Care Assistant (PCA) work.

Maybe in 2004, I saw a little spot that looked like oil come out through my finger nail which had been the point of original contamination.   Then the headaches and the repeating blister began to disappear, but the other fingers remained very prone to blisters from all sorts of exposures.   My intuition tells me whatever chemical was stuck to the chain, and there were rumors of DDT use in the neighborhood, got in my nerves, moved up them, and traveled through the dorsal root ganglia to the other hand.   I have super sensitivities to many inconsistent triggers, developing run away blisters, one as simple as just getting my hands wet.

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