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Showing posts from October, 2023

Bipolarland, Texas part 12

10 Day three. So we talked incessantly about what happened last night. We have a group with the guy I saw before, last night. He introduces himself as Jim, then starts writing on a huge pad of papers on a stand. He draws a triangle. Writes “thoughts” at one point of the triangle, “emotions” at another point, “behaviors” at the third. He goes on a little while about obvious things like “thoughts, feelings and behaviors rely on each other.” He calls what he is going to do today Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, says a form of it is more recently known as Rational Emotive Therapy. He hands out papers telling us how to be more constructive and less negative, listing and explaining examples of things we say, think, feel and do that don’t get us anywhere. When we get to the “should statements” part of it Jim says passionately, “'Should’ing is a form of violence. It really is.” Finally, I can confirm that I’m not the only one that thinks so, but that professionals think s...

Bipolarland, Texas part 9

 7 The NeuroPsychiatric Center is a building of its own on the site of the Ben Taub General Hospital. A lit-up, white, rectangular sign, with a MHMR logo and “NeuroPsychiatric Center” on it marks the area near the entrance. One of the support group leaders, Rachel, the leader of the bipolar group, enthusiastically agrees to drive me there. Instead of blasting dirty-South rap music in the car like my boyfriend Jakub does, she actually talks to me, which is nice. “ I was in there myself twice, once when I was really high and once when I was really low,” Rachel prattles in a bubbly, genuinely friendly voice that should be making me feel better, but my damn depression is getting in the way. Why do I have to go down when I’m talking to such a nice person? It’s not fair. I could have had a lot of fun talking to her. I probably seem totally unfriendly and indifferent. But I can tell her that. I do. And she says soothingly, “That’s alright; that’s totally alright. I’ve totally...

Bipolarland, Texas part 22-- final part, with the ending

 20 A lawyer. Who will pay for us to get a lawyer? Legal Aid refused to take our case. I guess it would have been an expensive case to take. Traudl comes back. She has info printed out from the Death Penalty Information Center's website. She shows me the list I'm on on the site of people waiting to be executed. It describes me as a “volunteer”. Rage boils inside me. I'm not volunteering for execution! I didn't even drop my appeals! I just can't afford a lawyer! She shows me printouts of stuff from the Texas Department of Criminal Justice's website too. I didn't know my fellow inmates who were not my friends from before had done that stuff! They actually murdered people for money, for politics, for convenience, for attention, for personal blackmail, or for fun. I'm not one of them! I can't believe I talked to them. I can't believe I was stupid enough to think that just because they talked to me, they were okay. And the TDCJ's w...

Bipolarland, Texas part 21

 19 Would we have made it back? We'll never know. All I know is that I stand more of a chance of survival on death row than I do on the roads in a speeding bus being chased and possibly shot at by the cops. Yes, that's right... death row. I'm not there yet, but there's something in Texas called the Law of Parties. If your friend kills someone and you're there and don't stop him, you're held equally responsible. The Polunsky Unit is full of death-row inmates who never actually pulled the trigger. They say they're innocent because of this, of course, but they are just as guilty. I'm just as guilty as Geoffrey. But Geoff had to do what he had to do. And so did I. To get Ana out of there. To save her from indefinite detention. We were basically saving her life. Geoff, my wonderful sweet Geoffrey, shot an innocent man. And I encouraged him, helped put him in a situation where he had to. Then why do I feel so ashamed? I'm b...