Miniluv*

On the 19th of July 2024 I sent this text to my partner from the barren patient cubicle of a psychiatric hospital:

I am a legitimate enemy of the state now in extrajudicial forced detention under methodical daily psychiatric torture. Railroaded by authoritarians beyond all due process. Their ignorance will kill me without laying a finger on me. It is impossible not to wonder if unconsciously, unspoken, and never acknowledged, some small part of them desires or requires that, from much higher level than here, not just to save their jobs and guilty profession, much as this discrete latter conclusion is more obvious, on direct empirical observation of their terrible, terrorizing, ganged-up responses. I love you, so very much. Always, Ben xxxx

Later, I typed the following messages to a quiet blog I visit [typos corrected]:

Hi all, Benjamin Power here. I’m in a rush so apologies for the lack of individual replies. Sorry to hear about the bloke with the ‘paranoid schizophrenic’ Dad. I see it’s tarnished you a bit, understandably. A shame to take it out on the most powerless Aryan sub-demographic though. In my experience it’s trauma all the way, except usually responsibility is shifted primary onto the sufferer themselves as everyone else claims trauma & hurt & infallibility somehow despite, inept at conflict resolution and preternaturally gifted at passing the buck, something the system helps with. I’m sure it was hell though, don’t get me wrong.

I don’t appreciate being dehumanized personally, into just another unnamed ‘mental person’ statistic. I might as well go to Counter-Currents if I wanted that grade of shit-thinking. I’ve managed (at length and with difficulty) to arrange a spare (computer) tablet from home brought in here, hence typing at all.

Why not blame the system? The psychiatry-public pipeline; training new conservative/liberal authoritarians in this matter. I see no more to them than Avon ladies for the millionaires of the drug industry, or school-mother enforcers, these medical staff and the brute panopticon of the TV news crowds. Never “what happened?” or “what have they done to you?” or “what’s happening to you in the background these months?”, or indeed “how are you?”, as humans sometimes ask. No, usually it’s just “the mentally ill are… 'xyz indifferent pejorative'

I predict that, if this issue is not assimilated by the National Socialist movement at large, and indeed the dissident right lackeys, there will be soon enough an internal hot civil war on the ‘right’. That’s a pain for me, and a terrible waste. Where is your love for your people, or do you merely value their convenience, politeness and externally set potential? Obviously, there are exclusions on here, and commentators I am genuinely very fond of reading, and of course the host, but in general it’s like talking to armoured rocks. You might as well be Turing Machines, and limited for that very reason, if you think about it a few times.

Anyhow, I’m surrounded by casual ‘cruel airhead’ Brits in here, so I know the types you mean. I just wish next time one of you could have showed a little interest in my massive self-published autobiography, available for free. I don’t think empathy is teachable. I hold out a speck of hope though, perhaps a photon’s worth. One day the penny might drop.

I’m sorry to read of your friend’s suicide note. He must be kept alive, if it can be done, but not shamed. Do not shame the good. I see not so much good in the comments as I had used to hope, and intuition assists more than incensed reason at times. Best regards, for a while (and who knows? perhaps you took my words at the top as self-indulgent euphemism for a poor ‘medical’ profession alone. There’s rather a lot more to this though. Sadly, I was just being sincere, and accurate.)

And:

I'm not sure what you feel on Lucy Johnstone’s book Uses and Abuses of Psychiatry: A Critical Look at Psychiatric Practice but a segment from the first case history seems to echo this. We know limits. People do what they do, and no more. But no less. I hope he is not dead. I agree; there is no place for suicide in the code of our sacred words. If he I dead though, remember him. Remember what he did do that can be honoured. His actions, and anything of value he wrote (and which should not be lost to dark time).

Anyway, the person has been forced to cook by her family all her life, and has subsumed this responsibility also, even as she is exhausted, and broken down. What do psychiatric professionals do? They goad her thoughtlessly into forced art/cooking class, once hospitalized, to make her cook again, to break her back into the only role of a dead status quo. My partner makes good food. I make better though, and I like to cook myself regularly. See this as just an analogy, although I saw, if I am not barking up the wrong tree, a little resonance.

I’d like to know more of his life. An unacceptable decision, but I do not know more and will not be insulting him if he is at death’s door anyway. One turns despair of ‘on the brink’ to long-distance murder then, were it not for the plausible deniability that is foundational to our hideous society, and so very much intrinsic.

And:

I’m typing from my room. Room 1, Peter Bruff Unit. It’s lonely in here; no one talks to me voluntarily (and only monosyllables from staff, no time to check in, let alone quality time). The building feels like a concentration camp architecturally – a psychological torture layout with no shade in the garden, and an odd walking pattern to go a tiny repetitive distance. Very high fences. It’s not even a secure unit, just standard.

I’ve been in 2 weeks 2 days now. I ‘sobered up’ on day 5. No meds needed. I was due to be released “if only I’d agree to the Abilify injection.” I said no, so now I am sectioned, soon to be moved to a Section 3, so he can "monitor my progress." They can’t point out any signs of direct illness, so they have resorted to pathologizing my every behavioural habit, and my quietness.

I missed dinner again tonight, the fourth time that has happened here. I’m hungry, but they don’t tell you if you’re busy and forget to head into the lounge canteen, plus will not save portions or feed you outside of mealtimes (10-15 minutes’ time window to eat including desserts; Halal sure enough, but nothing truly Vegan), so I might as well be on a hunger strike.

I’m not ill – that’s the point. I cracked following a home row (and always do these days – though I try to avoid home conflict altogether). As far as I know, despite the September 5th trial (I don’t know what will happen with that + can’t even meet my lawyer from here for last defence meetings – the psych won’t let me out to see him), I’m down as being here for the next 6 months, at least unless him and his anti-European team are toppled on that odd decision.

The community team won’t agree to see me, and, as per usual, fall hook, line and sinker for the ‘terrorist’ narrative. For copy-pasting ‘the usual’, available on Blackwells, Etsy, Amazon, Wikipedia, Ebay, Google Books, etc.

I take it they don’t like me (and get paid to do that too). 'They' is the State altogether, and all its branches of workers, not just psychiatric staff, much as my neighbours in Parkeston are feral snitches 24/7 also. I hope you are well. Sorry for my spelling typos – my eyes are so tired. It’s as hot as an oven in here, and clouded-glass windows cannot be opened (so much as slid on their frames a few centimetres). Benjamin

Later, on the 14th of August I shared further pertinent details:

Coincidentally, I’d written on the UK matriarchy in a recent diary entry, lamenting the males more than anything; every organ of the state ‘services’ staffed by these hideous, weak, cruel, passive aggressive male feminists, quick to patronize or snap, and at times very violent, in a sadistic sense. The desire to naturally express overconcern for the petty grievances of well-pampered, entitled females, these spoilt brats living a life of comparative bourgeois luxury, no trials or tribulations much worse than what could generally be expected by life itself, yet an obscene safety net.

I pity the male children but hate the male adults. I have long been observing the femininity in the presentation and attitudes of our current crop of male teenagers and comparing them even with teenagers in my day (which, in the late 90s, I think was the last gasp of the ‘outdoors life’ expressed by adventure and exploration, and curiosity in the physical Natural world), let alone before, to a Kurt Eggers-esque wholesomeness. They are like schoolmistresses themselves, or nannies, with the attitude (problem) of scolds, or health and safety advisers, evidently quite scared of life, and yet both arrogant and dismissive, extremely confident somehow. It does not give me any hope for this country, much as I hate it as a society, and a national project altogether.

I noticed in the unit that the staff were, in the majority, black females, with black males a close second (then a handful of extremely cold, bitchy white female staff, and one camp, visibly homosexual white male, no doubt a feminist, with his pink socks, figure-hugging black leggings, and nail varnish).

Much as black females are fairly masculine anyway on the whole, it was just one more example for me of this imposed horror. All the publicity posters and internal staff-edifying propaganda masquerading as patient help posters and hand leaflets featured olive-skinned, dark-haired racially nondescript women and white men attentively listening or shaking hands with black professional women, in reality as ‘professional’ as the rest of this huge heap of bitter morons; this gross vulgarity. At least it somehow accelerates the dissolution of this failed anti-cultural society, an open daily insult to propagate anger in the muted betrayed. I imagine that will occur more swiftly under the open hostility of a Labour government, more so than even the Conservatives before them.

And then on the 18th of August:

Talk about pathologizing a patriarchy under the matriarchal cancer, the British Home Secretary, Yvette Cooper has just laid out a new ‘counter-extremist’ strategy that considers ‘extreme’ misogyny as a terroristic crime and will automatically refer school pupils to Prevent for “the massive online threat of hatred towards women.”

These blind idiot harridans, one can assume, are unable to separate what ‘NT’ correctly replies about regarding compassion for pure Aryan women, and in their defence against the knives and hands of criminal subhuman low-lifes and anti-cultural scum, (as with children and the elderly) compared against their amoral punitive fascination with destroying ‘toxic’ men (surely toxic only for their lack of masculinity), hastening their own extinction in self-defeating out-group worship and unconscious suicidality. I can assume, as I wrote before, that if this policy goes ahead, they’ve simply shot themselves in the foot, hastening also the annihilation of their own system, and making young men very angry indeed (for once). She does seem to have proved them right.

It could go one of two ways. I’d hate to see the cowed schoolboys, fraught, and conflict avoidant, collapse further under the wrath and fury of these decadent, used-up trollops. Their fathers will, surely, rise to the task.

On the 20th of August I wrote to my friend with a few more memories, thinking of the recent suicide victim:

As you say, it's terrible to lose 'good material', and there's no moral right to do so if there's still something productive that could have been done. I don't know him, but I felt somehow sorry for him. I had to talk another patient in the unit out of killing themselves. The staff told him to 'stop being silly', and the other patients to 'shut up, don't trigger us', so I took him aside for a while to walk around the garden perimeter and quietly decide mutually upon life and not death. He was in tears, and weary in voice, telling me he couldn't hang on, and getting into detail over a specific planned method with leave breaks and the motorway outside, so I thought I'd better give a mixture of consolation and pep talk, plus holding him supportively by the shoulder and shaking his hand. The only decision made by the staff, reported to by their Stasi informer patients, was to tick a chart to ban his leave and section him from informal status, and otherwise they did not speak to him at all, or show much interest.

Earlier today, on the 6th of September 2024, I wrote him this:

I had to sign [my Community Treatment Order consent form] yesterday. It said on the form, 'must be of sound mind to sign' which made me wonder at the time, so I asked them "by your judgement, am I of sound mind right now?" to which they replied "yes, you're talking fluidly and coherently, and you present well, so you seem to be."

I replied: "wait a minute, if I'm of sound mind, which I have to be legally for this form to be valid at point of signing, why the treatment order at all? If I'm psychotic now, the consent form is voided. But why treat with drugs a sound minded person, especially for 6 months until I [first] get to review coming off it, and then not until a year after that?" which they couldn't answer.

If I didn't sign it, they'd section me again though, on the spot (or at least put the pressure on with second+ opinions). I've got a literal room full of scientific and trauma-model research-based criticism of psychiatry, and know my stuff, and it makes no difference whatsoever.

I found out the only reason they MRI tested me for epilepsy in hospital was to see if they could give me ECT. The results came back fine (as did my blood, BMI, and lung tests), and conveniently they've now "lost them in the paperwork" and/or "haven't committed them to memory" so "can't discuss the issue with me."

Is there one person in the UK who can stand up for patients with legal power? Lawyers all claim 'oh, we're not specialists in Mental Health' and kow-tow to those who say they are, and all mental health 'advocate' lawyers and their firms are trained and funded by the NHS state psychiatry itself, with close links to the hospitals. They just use 'independent' as a duplicitous and misleading encouragement tool. Mental health judges are equally trained and funded.

The 'symptoms' in me they're fixated on at the moment are:

1. "he does a lot of things with his day and has a lot of hobbies"

2. "he talks very quickly"

3. "he talks about difficult topics like maths, physics and philosophy, and will use technical language"

4. "he's angry and will stand his ground."

5. "he prefers being outdoors and withdrawn and will not socialise with groups or watch television."

I am on a 400mg injection of Aripiprazole now monthly; the top dosage one can be given. I neither hear voices nor have I ever hallucinated. My usual is despairing dissociation; word salad; chronic nervous burnout; PTSD-type stuff.

What they cannot - for some stupid, stupid reason - realise, is what they are now​ trying to 'treat' is not an illness, it's ME at all, as a personality, as a being. Surely those ideas are just correlations of being scholarly or something. This is the sort of thing that I feel makes people think others are trying to kill them, this enforced office banality of total f**king evil. I asked the [non-European] psychiatrist in the headscarf her hobbies:

"Oh. That's a good question. Um, oh, I meet up with family gatherings. Hmm... er... well, I like watching shows too. Lots of shows."

They're really not giving me any way out. It also said on the form "he must be presented with alternatives before deciding to sign". I had to volunteer the question myself, "what are the alternatives?" knowing full well it would be psychotherapy, for which they are currently acting as gatekeepers. "Oh" she said, "well, that just means other drugs we'd have to try..." She didn't want me to read the consent form initially, and just to sign it. I saw she'd placed her thumb over the 'does not consent' box as she was holding it. Really?!

And:

Obviously I have legitimate emotional/psychological bouts of poor health, but that's not what I mean - they've on the whole lost interest in even noticing anything delusional by conventional understanding of that term, and despite lots of episodes, I felt long term that I was getting better these past few months, and in recovery, as they didn't last as long and weren't as severe, and I healed from them each time without psych drugs; I feel like a legitimate targeted individual in the way they handle all this. It's beyond Soviet medicine. I wouldn't be utterly surprised if they took the criticism-'symptoms' down to the likes of "breathes through nose and not mouth" (or "breathes" at all).

A hastily transcribed argument I had with Abby over this topic (me: yellow; her: red). I have since heard identical arguments from my father, who, as far as meds are concerned, cannot hear a wrong word spoken about the psychiatric industry:

The external-to-pro-psychiatry contemporary academic research consensus is that psychiatric drugs, especially neuroleptics (antipsychotics) can cause irreversible brain damage if administered for longer than a couple of weeks, and can lead to the episodic psychosis becoming chronic, and untreatable. Psychiatric patients on this medication die on average 20-25 years earlier than the rest of the population.

I'm glad they're satisfied. Next time I won't share legally available amateur home-prepping e-books online and will leave that task to Wikipedia and the rest; those who have it handled pretty well enough already. Just as complimentary garnish to that, I can look forward to 4 years in jail and being stabbed to death by Islamic gangs outside my cell whilst my partner loses the house and is again rendered broke and homeless, along with her teenage son, a puppy, three rabbits, two small birds, and a Syrian hamster.

I'll dedicate this post to the latter. The psychopharmacological industry tests their drugs on hamsters.

*As recounted by Wikipedia, in the world of George Orwell's 1984 novel, "the Ministry of Love (Newspeak: Miniluv) serves as Oceania's interior ministry. It enforces loyalty to Big Brother through fear, buttressed through a massive apparatus of security and repression, as well as systematic brainwashing. The Ministry of Love building has no windows and is surrounded by barbed wire entanglements, steel doors, hidden machine-gun nests, and guards armed with "jointed truncheons". Referred to as "the place where there is no darkness", its interior lights are never turned off. It is arguably the most powerful ministry, controlling the will of the population. The Thought Police are the outward extension of Miniluv".