EXEMPTION FROM WORK - autobiography of an ex mental-health self-proclaimed pseudo patient
Many years ago I was looking into the Human Mind (& my mind) and decided to become Crazy.
Since I personally at the time being truly did not know what craziness was all about and all I could get from the media were writings and documentations of the mentally ill, and mostly expressionless people in gowns walking in slow-mo in rooms with mild-colored walls doing nothing all day long (and short) staring into the emptiness making strange and weird comments if any at all required by the etiquette about himself herself the surroundings without the second thought of being politically incorrect or in any ways inappropriate according the the circumstances if any, and will collapse at anytime under any kinds of deadlines of work family love career goals and or the middle of important ceremonial rituals dinners social gatherings etc without prior notices. And those who are on a life-threatening mode, to him/herself or others, are usually more isolated either strapped down to a bed or locked up in a room sedated by the meds and possibly without even the strength to bite his/her own tongue while s/he is still awake and these are not animals but human beings we are talking about.
In terms of artistic and theatrical values I became the Crazy Guy. For the sake of, and without the prior knowledge, the intrinsic fundamental difference between real-good-craziness and, real-bad-craziness. You can read the following as a confession of a lost soul.
Freedom vs the sane, mundane, self-perpetuating periodically-recurring flaring-subsiding cycles. And I have to emphasize I went through the fundamentals of theatrical training: drama, performing arts, Constantin Stanislavski, Christ Burden. During the era, there was no Borat yet. And by giving myself into an art-form "which I believed as the ultimate characterization amongst all kinds of art" which happens within and without the media, blending actors and audiences together, and not drawing the line by the consciousness of being in / and looking at an art. a move. a TV show. With all of our senses heightened at the moment in order to perceive and to know / and to withdraw and to forget.
Here were the steps: I went through The Ministry of Social Development and other major and minor departments. In less than 2 weeks period of time they already gave me a place to live. And of course we went through lots of drama that I am mentally ill and I don't know where to go what to do and everyone involved, especially the housing advocate, were apparently buying my show. At one point I put myself into an emotional scene by shedding tears in the DERA office (Downtown Eastside Residence Association) And my housing advocate stood up, walked across the desk and gave me a few long long hugs, which until today I still feel the lack of remorse on my side in playing the minds of complete strangers, especially the honest ones full of unconditional love, with my acting technique. For I know, the reason I was there, was to get a place to live, get monthly cheques from the Government, possibly for the rest of my life, for free.
And if I were to do that successfully, without any obligation on my side, the foremost prerequisite was never to show anybody what I was able to do. In another words, I had to be disabled. Under the condition I have zero physical disabilities which can be seen nor diagnosed, the only option left was: to create a mental illness which only I, and ME only, have complete access. In order for the mental disability to be real, I have to believe in it in the first place, before anyone else.
From day to day cores, functioning of the body and the brain, to the basic coordination in swinging the right arm forward when stepping out the left feet, to saying hello and good-bye, greeting people whom you know with a smile, to little movements which I considered as under-categorized in public such as picking nose, scratching arsehole, which have long been suppressed in (some part of) our civilization and will lead the mind to think of badness and wrong. Both the body, and the mind, have to be reformed, or in my case, upgraded, to the stage of complete disintegration, in order for myself to be qualified. And once you get there, it wouldn't be surprising when you have paramedics and medical professionals who repeatedly asked you the same question, " Do you know where you are ? "
And I know by experience, questions and statements of the kind and alike are meant to demean an individual. But I was in the middle of big business so I wouldn't care. And when it came to the exposure of your mind, such as filling out an application form, always make sure you are disabled and you cannot read. Nor write. in the right way. And if you are required to do so, by standard procedures and protocols, try to find a balance to show others: what you want them to know and what they don't need to know. Misspell your own name is an option but I did not.
Anyways.
Within 4-5 weeks of weekly interviews taken place, the mental health team had gathered enough "documentation" of my "mental illness" and made some arrangements, without my prior knowledge (for the common good). My bed, my ward, my professional team, nutritionist, macho male nurses aka security guards and possibly professional wrestlers etc were all set at Riverview Hospital awaiting for this CCC (Crazy Chinese Caveman) from the street. And one clear morning around 10ish in my SRO I was about to head out for my binning route and my case worker came knocked on my door and "invited me to go sign some documents" (that was what he said but wasn't what he truly meant) (which I shouldn't mind because I was the liar in the first place) at the doctor's office. And within 1 to 1.5 hrs of my arrival being completely bored not knowing what was going on but patient enough not to bother anyone (or in medical terms: catatonia), I saw a few policemen and paramedics walking into the office. With all kinds of tools on their waist, which they will use according to their judgement of the situation. And without coincidence, the situation they were about to face, was me. And I was not ready to coincide, nor go inside, with them. |
發表於 2010-12-10 23:42
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