The Long Arm Of The Law - December 2001, Addendum
Out of concern for my well being, and as a result of
a telephone conversation, a friend had contacted the local police
as it seemed I appeared to be a threat to my own safety.
Before I knew it I had a couple of law enforcers knocking at my
door asking to be admitted.
I politely declined their request and was informed that,
by refusing them admission, I could be arrested. What could I do?
In they came.
We talked and as I was in a visible state of distress
they asked me if I would accompany them to the local police station
so that a doctor could examine me.
Once again I declined their request and so I was subsequently arrested
on charges of breaching the peace.
Now let's just get this situation straight.
I was upset because of my depression.
It was obvious to my friend that I was upset.
The police became involved and I was arrested.
At no time did I breach any peace and at no time was I danger to
anyone, myself included.
Believe me when I say that when my time comes I will
slip away quietly and there will be no fanfare or dramatic scenes.
Some may say that it was a cry for help, I prefer to say that the
stress/depression barrel had reached full capacity and was overflowing
so I tipped some out to alleviate the problem.
However, I was lead, handcuffed for the first time in
my life, out of the house and transported to the nearest police
station. Here I had all personal items and potential suicide aids
removed from my person and I was put into a cell until a doctor
arrived.
Now let me tell you that a Scottish prison cell is not
the most appealing location in the world. A tiled room with bars
making up one full wall. An open toilet in one corner and a slightly
raised area for one to place ones plastic-covered mattress and anti-suicide
blanket upon.
Careful examination of the surroundings uncovered some very strange
looking stains on the floor and visible signs that the WC had been
violently removed from its wall mountings on more than one occasion.
And the pervading stench of disinfectant made the stomach do cartwheels.
I was under constant surveillance for the 2 hours it
took for the doctor to arrive and I was then taken to a room to
be interviewed by the medic.
Needless to say I had to recount the history of my depression
and causes for its acceleration.
This had me in tears yet again. Tears, sweet tears.
I can add my endorsement to the age old adage 'it is
good to cry' as it drained me of all the anger and frustration.
There are only two other methods of achieving release that I have
come across and those are violence and orgasm (please excuse the
intimations these words invoke).
And when I say violence it can mean a whole host of things, not
just violence to others, such as violent speech, self harm, violent
action such as a long, hard run, etc.
At the end of the interview the doctor advised me that
he was going to advocate my immediate release and he also shook
my hand and gave me his best wishes. This served to endear him to
me as few people understand what happens to a depressive when things
become overpowering and I also think that he sincerely did wish
me the best.
Half an hour later I was transported back home.
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