This is probably the most unusual blog in the history of blogging. It is serves my stated purpose, pays tribute to a man whom I admire and promotes awareness and insight as to the nature of major depression

For those of you who are depressed, please read no further as I would hate to be responsible for a depressed person jumping from a high building; for those of you who have had the fortune never to have suffered from depression please read this entire blog to give you an insight of the pain of major clinical depression and for those of you who have a family member or friend who suffers from depression please read the entire blog to give you a better insight and the ability to understand and empathise

What follows is the testimony of Rod Steiger, that well know and famous actor, it is vivid, eloquent and compelling and a testomony to his 8 year struggle with depression, his courage and victory over mental illness

An extract of this testimony was aired on CNN and it is noteworthy that this documentary caused CNN to receive 100 calls per hour and doing the arithmetic that is a call every 36 seconds!!!!

STATEMENT OF ROD STEIGER AT A CONGRESSIONAL SUB-COMMITTEE HEARING

“Thank you Gentlemen I am here to try to take you on a little trip through an experience, and I hope you will indulge me. I am very flattered to be here, and I will begin.

I want to die. I don’t want to move. I have no feeling for movement. To be left alone. To disappear, not to be bothered with washing, shaving, talking, walking or going to the bathroom. Just to get out of this tunnel and the heavy darkness, the cold, the oily, the constantly pressing against my ;brain, and feeling the way that this scum, grease, tallow, pushes against my sides, crushing you . You, dead-eyed, gray-faced, unshaven, dirty of body, and empty of mind.

Acting-oh, what is so important about acting? The paralyzing fear of not remembering a line, projections, images, visions of failure. They are watching. They are watching. I can feel them on my body. I can feel their eyes all over my skin. And it is time to act. And the crew is watching. Thirty of them are watching. The director is watching. My partner in the scene is watching. A rat in the corner of the studio is watching. And I will not be able to do it. I will not be able to remember. And they are going to discover that I am inadequate, I am unable. I must not scream. I must not scream in front of them. I must stay. I must not; I must not listen to my mind. I must not; I must not run off the set. I must not run. I must not run.

I know I’ll break down. I’ll break down, and they’ll find out I am weak, and they will find out I am in pain. Oh God. What God? I will break down. I’ll look like a fool, an idiot, and they’ll find out I can’t act. I can’t act. I can’t act at all.

End of vision – but there is a way out. My mind is telling me there is a way out. You get a gun, a nice, cool gun. And then – wait, now – you mustn’t make a mess. I’m worried. I’m worried about the mess – the head half gone, the blood on the walls, the carpet, the flower, all over the cat – and I don’t want my loved ones to walk in on that.

But there is a way. There is a way. I live by the beach. And they are waiting, the waves, ever moving, relentless motion. I’ll get a small rowboat while my wife is in town doing business, and my daughter is in Europe, so she won’t know until later. I’ll row out on the ocean. I’ll lower myself over the side of the boat, holding tightly with my right hand to the boat, keeping my head and shoulders above the water, holding with my left hand, the gun, pointing toward God’s sky. And then I will lower the gun, I’ll take the barrel in my mouth and pull the trigger, and then, I rest. I rest. The boat floats away. My body floats away from it. There is no mess, no mess, just fish food. It’s strange – I am more worried about the mess than my life.

I rest. I rest. Oh, yes, there is a way, there is a way. My wife, Paula – oh, God, my poor wife, Paula – who, through 8 years of my twisting, freezing fog, heroically kept my head above the waters of insanity; tending me like a crippled child, never criticizing, never, never, never in frustration raising her voice, shouting or screaming with fury that comes with the fear of the unknown. Never has she tearfully begged or demanded her release or relief, saying, “How can you sit there like that?. What’s wrong with you? What kind of a man are you? How can you let yourself look like that?” Never. Always, with the never-ending stretching of patience, kindness, motherhood and maternity, she more than gently took care of me. Never, never, never reminded me of my illness, my chemical imbalance – chemical imbalance – isn’t that the phrase that the doctors use? And that, Paula, that love, that patience, that preserving shield kept me from suicide one more time.

I sit in the squalor of myself. Movement is my enemy. I sit, staring at the sea, the sun. I sit, numb, drowning in self-pity. And maybe – maybe – I’ll die. Oh, what if I die? Please, above all, let me not linger. Let it not be a long stretch of dying. Let me not linger. Let me, in the depth of my depressive state, never ending, let me in that darkness depart. Let me die simply. Not wake up. That’s exciting. That’s a goal. That would be an accomplishment.

Once again I feel the cold sheets of fear moving over my body. If I don’t move, if I don’t breathe, maybe they’ll absorb me in a never-ending sleep, and I’ll rest. I’ll rest.

I am here, gentlemen, to ask for help – help in the form of funds for research and education; funds to keep the fighters, such as Dr.Goodwin and the National Institutes of Health, to give them more strength so that, through their science and intelligence, they can improve the lives of millions and destroy the stigma.

I will not have a human being condemned because of pain which is part of a God-given life. Unfortunately, everyone of us in this world has to suffer at some time or another. I will not have them condemned as insane. I want to destroy that stigma, and I want it so that to suffer disease and bear its pain does not mean in any way; you are insane. I hope for more funds. I hope most of all for somehow in the educational system for some way to educate people as to what mental illness can be, and that these things can be cured. I thank you.

I am very honoured to be here, and I thank you for your indulgence.”

(Congressional sub-committee hearing on “promise of mental health research” held on 15 September 1992 to examine the potential of mental health research to improve understanding of mental illness and to promote the development of more effective treatments – Library of Congress reference: Labor and Human Resources S541-15 p. 5-27, 38-57)

Repeated at a hearing on 29 May 1996 S181-16.6 p. 152-168

Interesting to note is part of the comment of Senator Specter: “I take it that your testimony is straight from the heart, and you were speaking about about a personal experience and about personal feelings. You are an extraordinary actor, but that seemed to go beyond acting”

My reading of that statement seems to imply that Senator Specter questions the veracity of the statement of Rod Steiger and then answers his own question, such is the compelling nature of the testimony and the impact and emotion it elicits

I have a favour to ask, I have been attempting to obtain a copy of the CNN documentary but have not been able to contact the correct source at CNN. Any assistance would be appreciated. I wish to use the documentary to promote the awareness and understanding of mental illness in South Africa

I do not seek sympathy but rather attempt to present as objectively as possible a factual account of my life and my experience with mental illness, the devastating and debilitating effect on my ability to function and the pain that I have inflicted on those I love and have loved. Of course there is something in this for me, it is my need to express myself and describe the lessons I have learned as well as pontificate on my values and philosophy. I will be sixty two this year and am South African

Yes, I have Bipolar Disorder which is a chronic illness and hell I don’t want this to sound like the famous introduction to an AA meeting. I was diagnosed on 22^nd August 1992 with Temporal Lobe Epilepsy. The diagnosis was subsequently changed to Bipolar 1. When was the onset of this debilitating and mystifying illness? I do not really know but with the benefit of hindsight it must have been in my late teens or early twenties

The elder of two male siblings, I had a fairly usual childhood except I was shy and introverted. My parents were loving but it was conditional love, do as we want and then we love you, be an individual and you are an indolent idiot, their friends and interests were paramount, more important than my needs. I have no anger or resentment and know they meant and wanted the best for me and in their psychological unaware manner they do love me. I had an amazing curiosity and showed an interest in the sciences and maths and my real passion was psychology, by the age of twelve I had read most of Freud’s writing, now of course so outdated. I mean how is it possible for a cigar to represent a phallus, no sorry Freud not relevant in today’s open and free society. My excessive curiosity caused me to be a prolific reader developing an extensive vocabulary and a good general knowledge

At the age of ten I had my first encounter with a psychologist. When disembarking from the school bus I developed this compulsion to place my foot under the wheel of the bus thereby crushing my foot. It was so disturbing I very shyly and ashamedly told my mother. Hence my visit to the psychologist, he did some tests one of which was an IQ and remarked “you are very smart, not mentally gifted but very smart” I thought he was crazy how could stupid me be smart!!!!!!!! Well I liked him as it felt so good to be told that stupid me could be smart and he very comprehensively explained to me the cause of my compulsion. The result, well I no longer had problems with the wheels of the bus

As for school, well that was school, it hampered my more important interests like sport and reading and my experiments with science, electronics and hypnosis, yes, I used to hypnotise my younger brother and hell that was such fun, if I told him it was cold he would shiver and if it was hot he would perspire and many other fun things, it was terrific, what a great life I had. Anyway I completed school by the age of seventeen, my grades a mediocre average, hell that psychologist was so wrong, I am not smart

At seventeen and a half I was conscripted and served in the infantry for nine months. Now please believe me the military is really different and soooo way out. It is very similar to the movies but to play the part of a rookie soldier at the mercy of a hardened instructor is absolute torture. There is the screaming, shouting, abuse, push ups, running, crawling, punishment, group punishment and of course the dreaded obstacle course. The first six weeks where ever you move you must run and of course you must salute commissioned officers but dare you salute a non-commissioned officer that is a fate worse than death. Now for a rookie it is very difficult to distinguish between a commissioned and non-commissioned officer. Yes, there is a plan, salute everybody, no that’s not the answer. Hang on a second, there is another plan; salute nobody, no that’s not the answer.

Now I am sure you are curious as to my rambling about this, well to explain, it is to illustrate that in the military whatever one does is wrong and is a punishable offence eliciting exacting physical punishment such as the obstacle course, push ups for extended periods, marching for hours and much else too numerous to mention

Now to the point I am trying to make. For the military to be effective every soldier must obey without question and comrades in arms must trust each other as well as act as a cohesive unit.

Examine the psychological dynamics used by the military and for the sake of simplicity I examine the component parts all applied simultaneously:

The extended periods of marching in column of three, left turn, right turn, about turn, halt, quick march, punish if not performed correctly, not precise, not fast enough. This is nothing more than operant conditioning; Pavlov would smile posthumously and say you see I was correct, military has achieved objective “obey without question”

Conscripts are drawn from diverse backgrounds, cultures, education levels and are individuals, military requires a cohesive group, so military breaks down individuality, punish for no valid reason, treat conscript unfairly, give conscripts a common anger and hatred, yes, the instructor is hated. Now what do we have, a group of rookies from diverse backgrounds with one common thread so powerful transcending all other differences , anger, outrage and hatred for instructor, result conscripts bond and become a cohesive unit. Military objective no two achieved, “cohesive and bonded group of soldiers”.

But wait, military afraid, what have we created, what if our unified creation in anger turns on instructor, we have a monster, military very afraid, military must outflank and outwit cohesive group of soldiers, comrades with such a common bond, military cannot have a mutiny

Yes, military have the answer; it is so diabolically simple, force this group of soldiers to be self controlling and censoring. Use group punishment. For those of you who do not know this concept, this is how it works: if one soldier steps out of line or errs punish his whole unit, yes, punish all for the error of one. That poor erring soldier will be bullied and beaten by members of his unit, he will endure such wrath from his comrades that never again will he step out of line. “There will never be a mutiny”

Military, you have won, objective achieved, hill captured, battle won

All the above I realised after my first month of military service, maybe that psychologist I saw when I was ten was correct, maybe I am smart, but no that cannot be, I am mentally ill, it had not manifested but was lurking for a time to strike

For the soldier, he is filled with pride in himself and his uniform, his country and flag, he walks tall; he has endured much and won, he serves his country or so he is told, what an honour??

On the 31^st December 1964 I completed my compulsory military service and despite my cynicism I was “brave and strong and true”

To end this post allow me to pontificate, from Secretaries and Ministers of defence to the lowest ranking instructor, we forgive you, and you know not what you do. You create efficient killing machines in the name of defending your country, your aim is to kill and maim and all this in the name “God and Country”, you are evil, you create evil. “Semper Fidelis”, “Unit, Corps, God, Country”, “Pro Deo Et Patria” and all that good stuff

My simple question is “why as civilised adults do we not use diplomacy, talk and understand each other, lay down our arms, disband all military, have peace and be friends” Violence and destruction is pathetic and in war there is no victor

My next post, well, who knows, I am a Bipolar

My son is experiencing an emotionally painful event in his life and documents his feelings, values and ideas in the form of a blog. I took pride in his insight, values and morals realising the difficult path he had chosen. His writing filled me with pride

My daughter is final year journalism student; as a project she writes a weekly blog which I find creative, informative, insightful and intellectual, again a source of pride.

In discussion with my daughter the following comment was passed “come on dad get into the 21st century and start blogging” This comment was a stunning blow, am I old and not “with it” any longer, am I not modern, have the passing years caused me to be complacent with my staid habits. No I could not allow that to happen to me

I decided to blog about my struggle with Bipolar Disorder. After my first post I realised it would merely be a type of mini autobiography and the content seemed to me to be narcissistic, egotistical and arrogant

I have decide to change tack and blog about controversial issues and pontificate about my philosophy and values and the manner in which so called social norms conflict with my views

This subject matter of my next blog may be about human dignity; who knows i am Bipolar