Mental Hospital Visits in Russia and the People You Meet There.

And so I knew it was coming.  My 1st of 5 unwanted mental hospital visit.  Truth be told they were all unwanted.  

30ish days on average and that is if you sign up for willing evaluation.  Triple that to a sweet 90 by making a judge send you for evaluation.

I've met men who've been there for 1 week, 1 month, 6 months, 6 years.  I learned, got a taste of what it meant to be institutionalized.  Took me back to my Navy days a wee bit.

Pajamas all day.  Fresh pair given out in a weekend's time after our 1 in 7 day shower.  A huge difference in the mental hospital and the US Navy is the Russian mental hospital has little to offer for entertainment.  I was lucky enough to find a 725 page follow up to a Swedish crime novel about a girl with dragon tattoos in English that took 4 days to read.

Lights on at 6 a.m.  Inspection before breakfast at 9:30.  I wake up fast, make my bed and get ready for my first legal narcotic of the day.  10 cigarettes.  1 as the day begins, 1 after inspection, 1 after breakfast (always kasha, easy on the stomach), and the first of 3 daily allotments of drugs.  Some psychoactive, some not.  By my second visit I could identify at first the respiridol which is strong and then scaled back to haliperidol which also made me stupid, shake, drool, and my legs started to tapping.  Just not as much as under Respiridol.

I learned how to jam these psychoactive nasties under my upper lip where they would remain until a quick visit to the loo.  And I could feel the difference immediately.

After the psychiatrists deemed me normal from having sat with my drug addled self for 5 minutes in about 27 days I was allowed to leave.  Sound a bit crazy? It is akin to a factory that keeps mostly the stupid and poor off the streets.  

Their intent, towards me was to keep me on these anti-psychotics.  And with some of the folks I met there can't say it's a bad idea for those boys.

I visited a nearby out patient service, also state run, presenting free prescriptions.  I tried the anti-psychotics another month and then refused them for their negative side effects.

The Dr. was unhappy but they could no longer force me, so they tried peer pressure then pulling in 2 senior psychiatrists attempting to convince me to trust them.  Trust these pill dispensing fools who nearly killed me 7 times with antidepressants.  Sorry, no.

I explained as an American citizen in Russia, having remarried my lying wife, I desired a sleeping pill and an anti-depressant.  And I would never touch an anti-psychotic ever again in my life.

We agreed the Zopiclone and Fevarin changing those to muscle relaxants Phenezepam and Phenibut, these not prescribed in the US.

These pills remove anxiety, let me get a decent night's sleep.  A better medication in my view is cannibas, pot,  weed.  And illegal in Russia.

I learned in the Russian mental hospital that the wealthy must stay removed from the poor.

I was twice a CEO, travelled to 70 countries, sold shares in a company I led for over $1,000,000.  I live in a city center with no debt.

I made the mistake of speaking with other patients in my decent Russian.  I was too open.  A few of us discussed our love of pot.  We agreed they would help take me off the Phenibut which while effective tends to make one nap.

I miss Colorado and her progressive marijuana laws.  

When Fyodor got cold feet, promised to return the small money I gave him in some days, I could sense that he wanted nothing to do with the potential drug suppliers listed above. He alone I trust.

All the others tried hard to get me back to 2012 and 2013 and stimulants like Amphetamine Sulfate and these newer Cathinone based stimulants.  The timing was everything.  Corrupt cops.  Me doing something overstimulated so Sveta can put me away another 30 days.  I avoid this.  She once had me sent as I had raised my voice in response to hers.  That cost me 27 days of jammies.

And my idiot outcall psychiatrist who speaks no English and hunts and pecks on his PC with 2 fingers misunderstood me.  I had wanted to move to Phenezepam having found a caring text message to Svetlana's phone from the man, Alexander Valerievich Tregubov, who could not impregnate her, but in August 2011 with her 'buy in' (unknown to me then) offered me a poisoned beer.  I lost 35 pounds in a month.  I lost my mother to COPD the next month in September 2011.

I explained to the Dr. I wanted Phenezepam to contain the rage at my once again wife.  He misunderstood, thought I intended to kill her.  This accounting for having hands wire tied, back to an ambulance and to that oh so boring hospital.  There went 3 weeks.

The sleeping pill Zopiclone works, makes a funny metallic after taste.  Take two and feel the narcotic. I stayed with one.  It helped and I was clear the next day.

The antidepressant, Fevarin, or Fluvoxamine took a week to build up in my blood and then suddenly I was imperceptibly happier.  Coffee was better.  50 mg a day.

This worked for 9 months.  I could raise or fold.  I didn't see myself on 100 mg a day and decided on my own to simply stop taking these drugs.  

Big mistake.

Somehow these antidepressants mess with one's brains on far too many levels.  I could not relax.  Anxiety through the roof.  Cold feet (weird that one).  Hiccoughs relentless and my diaphragm having a mind all it's own not letting me breath 7 times, each a terrifying surprise.  Striking my sternum seemed to help and relax my diaphragm so that I might continue 'mongst the living.  

I was scared. This wasn't getting better.  Up all night until the hiccoughs subsided.

I saw hallucinations, 2, 1 on my solid green home pants I saw a world map.  Wild.

The 2nd had to do with my earlier predeliction with women and sex.  As I shut my eyes 4k sexual images of women appeared in my eyelids.  

Then my brain rebalance and I awoke to feel like me, not anti-psychotic me, not anti-depressant me. Never again.  Such dangerous drugs. 

Recently Canadian author and psychologist Jordan Petersen suffered something perhaps worse, perhaps not from a benzo (kloponine) prescription.  It was in the news. Interestingly he had to receive treatment where I live in Russia.  He recovers.

So someone above Svetlana's paygrade decided I needed a stay at a Russian mental hospital.

For lots of reasons.  To impinge my credibility is the big one.  

In December 2015 after beating misdemeanor 'child endangerment' entrapment charges in the corrupt 'criminal justice system' of little Victor NY Police, the fusion center they report to and from their corrupt Gods of FBI and CIA and their damnable FISA courts, I spoke with my exwife via Skype using tablets.

We were both in relatively good moods, hers perhaps due to keeping our son out of the Foster Child 'zoo' by my agreement with the court.  This had worried her as she emailed Nick two days before my arrest advising him to find a Foster family.

I sometimes ask how she knew I would be arrested two days hence. She never answers and always ignores my inquiry.  

Svetlana and I spoke amicably about what I don't recall.  Then she hit me with a bombshell "Rick didn't you know 80% of your expat pals picked up over 15 years in Russia, were actually in the employ of various national intelligence agencies.'  I replied no that this I was of unaware.  

She got me to think how I made friends so easily in Russia hanging out with mostly US and European expats.  Thought it must be me.  I am interesting.  Cool.

Never so wrong.  Replace C with F for Fool.  I remain grateful for her inadvertant revelation.

As time passed this nugget of information, a key if you like, helped me understand that I had long ago been a target pursued by gangstalkers and their lords the corrupt police.  The sorts that blew off JFK's head and pulled off 9-11.

Think about this.

People lie, all the time, Senior NCIS agent Doug Boyce told me in early 2014.

Since 9/11 false flag event in 2001, the blundering yet extremely profitable wars, the passing of the Patriot Act, the creation of fusion centers and FISA courts, legalized torture of many outside our country ignores that these same changes enabled corrupt higher ups in our, and I laugh, 'criminal justice system' to take advantage by turning law abiding citizens into 'targeted individuals' such as myself and Karen Melton Stewart.

How do they do this?  It's called 'parallel construction' wherein police with this authority can make anyone decent into someone who bears watching.

Happened to me.  Being watched right now.  Now there's a job worse than a frustrated 'skori pomoch' driver, the dude or dudes who have to observe me, gaslight me, get me into criminal activities and finally suicided.

Russia has a law on the books number 323 which says that if your behavior pisses off friends, family, neighbors they have the legal right to call 'Skori Pomoch', loosely translates into 'Fast Help'.  Basically an aggressive ambulance service staffed by unpleasant men who are likely unhappy they are not cops.  Didn't have the right stuff.  Must bother them.

But a job is a job.

I knew because of my mostly futile choice to speak 'truth to power' which has gotten me thrown out permanently by Facebook.  Instagram bans my blog address.  PayPal cancelled my account for unspecified reasons.  Twitter does not mind my 1,000 followers.  Nor have I offended Blogger where since inception a year back over 235 posts and over 26,000 visitors.

I could have tried to look for a place of safety back in with the mind controlled sheep, but with what I've learned from 2014 to 2017 let me know I am considered a criminal by the forces that be for earlier willing and misled drug use.   I have posted about that in this blog should you have interest.

So how did I end up in a Russian mental hospital? Fair question.  Law 323 and my wife's use of it.

I live under Russian police surveillance 24/7 and decided to look for cameras.  Svetlana thought I was nuts and in need of state mental help 'to get better'.

More to write, reorganize, and improve this my 236th blog post now viewed by over 26,000.  That is tomorrow's task.