JR Gach on His Mental Breakdown
Jerad
training (that's a joke).
funny...the only thing i ever looked at on capital gold were the pics of
xmtr. sites and the memorabilia. i chose not
to read the "message boards". i just did the show, hit the numbers and
that was that. people either got it or they
didn't.
while i thought of my life as a neat little package, something was
happening inside my head. oh sure i'd stay up
all night, buy thousands of dollars worth of junk on eBay or feel like
killing myself for three or four weeks at a
time. but one day, on the air, i called "charlie", at computers
unlimited "gary" throughout his spot. i found myself
searching for words, losing track of the time and feeling this endless,
consuming rage.
anyway...here we are. today. now.
suzie has been printing out the posts and i just want to thank so many
people for so many good wishes, not
mention hundreds of e-mails. there's those of you that figure i deserve
this and are glad i'm not on the air. you're
probably right. this bi-polar II thing is insidious. it's not unlike
brain cancer. it's progressive to a certain extent, but
there's no tumor. no chemo. just therapy and drugs. LOTS of therapy and
LOTS of drugs. and a lot of sheer
will-power and coping skills you learn over time.
the oft-argued suggestion that "all entertainers have it" is wrong. 56%
of BPII's commit suicide, which tells me
we'd have a lot fewer entertainers and creative people in the world if
there were such an epidemic level of
bi-polarity.
how do i feel? empty. i hate myself. i spend a lot of time crying. i
still believe the world would be better off without
me in it. i might still crack an occasional joke, but it won't be at
someone's expense.
the time i've spent in therapy has afforded me the opportunity to make
some of the most genuinely supportive,
wonderful friends i will ever know. every person has worth. some
intrinsic value. they're gay, lesbian, black,
white, oriental, crossdressers, old and young. i hold an 82 year-old
woman while she sobs "jay...don't ever get
old...they treat you so bad"...(when i was in-patient she was one of my
very best friends. i was one of the few
people who could make her smile, even laugh). all i can think of are the
"old-fart" tirades and how worthless i
am. but in therapy, we're all sick. we all feel the same deep,
unrelenting pain and the self-hatred. and we're there
for each other. we don't judge. my best friend is a former cop. go
figure.
it doesn't mean things don't piss me off...but it's only for a fleeting
moment and i move on to something else
quickly. that's called "anger management".
i am proud, after stewart's dumped "christmas wish" that i was able to
bring McDonalds to the station and get
them on board. my guess is that was never mentioned...just go to mickey
d's and load up for the kids this year. it
pains me that greg turned his back on me, i did learn one valuable
lesson: you can't buy friends. i gave greg
probably five-thousand dollars worth of gifts...watches, furniture, a
laptop. my new friends...my true friends like
me for me and accept jay as he is and work tirelessly each day to
convince me that i am worth something...worth
saving. one woman hugs me and tells me each day before i leave "i better
see you here tomorrow...don't you try
anything and if you! n! eed me call me".
changing begins with an unflinching, unblinking, brutal
self-examination. i'm trying every day. i'm not here
shopping for sympathy. God knows, while on manic binges, i did enough
shopping to last several lifetimes.
speaking of God...i realize i need to get in touch with my spirituality
and i am little by little. baby steps.
i just wanted to say thanks and if i were to make it back on the air
around here...anywhere...i would only ask you
give me a try. i'd really love to do a show with suz. thanks too, to
andy and capitalgold.org. and finally to my
wife...suzie. i'd be dead without her. for real.
one final and very important appeal. if you feel any of these things
i've described or know someone who does, or
a family member or friend whose made a reference to suicide...make a
call. take action. you only have to ring
the doorbell at CDPC...24/7/365. no 911, no police. get immediate
assistance. it's ok. just because you're not
bleeding doesn't mean you're not hurting. and there's a way to bandage
the hurt and heal the scars.
it just takes longer for the scab to form (that's a joke too).
peace out.
jay robert gach
drop GUN before emailing
Our gain is Albany's loss.
Digger, AKA Grumps (old and crusty)
hometown.aol.com/jynndi/myhomepage/profile.html
All errors; spilling, grimatical, ore tieping intenshunal.
JYNNDI@ASOL.COMMIE John Jay E. Digger
this is all the pud brained pinko puking prick can say:
"SHUT YOUR UGLY HOLE."
"ROTFLMAO"
outside of all his god damned DemocRAT lies
======================
Trigger Finger Digger, the repetitious knuckle dragging imbecile, the
son-of-a-slut
DUHgger, the anti-military "reet" cunt-for-a-face fart head DemoCRAP
===========================
Piss off and go straight to hell, you senile old Commie cock sucker, you
Popeye lookin' fuck