Clinical Depression


Unleashing The Terminator
By David Raymond Jordan


ISBN: 978-1-905610-15-0
Published: 2006
Pages: 50
Key Themes: depression, suicidal thoughts, post-traumatic stress disorder, psychiatry, autobiography


This is the story of how, through naivity and misfortune, I transgressed from a normal healthy young man stood at life’s launch pad into the nightmare of clinical mental illness. It tells of how after 3 years of psychiatric treatment I was left a destroyed, disabled and unemployed person on the scrap-heap despite a relentless campaign of resiliance and self help. It also tells of my attempts to get justice for what I believed to be medical negligence, and how self love and fighting spirit would never let me give up my goal to regain my health, future and well being.

As well as describing (and I believe indisputably explaining) clinical depression this book also contains my views on evolution, religion, civilisation, animal rights, anxiety illness, the psychiatric system and world population growth, re-molded and revisited by my terrible experiences, continuing education and progressing maturity. David Jordan

About the Author

I have a high standard of education and I have a good Honours degree. I have an interest in natural history, biology and medical issues. I am unashamedly a former psychiatric patient who unfortunately had a very long time to look at and understand his problems. I have worked in the Civil Service for 8 years and as a manager in Local Government for 11 years.

Book Extract

When Shirley returned from holiday things were different. ‘Stop bugging me’ she said. That was a turning point. I guess I knew what it meant and I started to feel bad. I became irritable and exhausted. I took my fatigue to be down to a lack of fitness and I started jogging. I was always tense. I went to see a horror film at the pictures. I always enjoyed such films but afterwards I felt somewhat disturbed for the first time. I went boating with Cliff, Debbie and her sister Vanessa and I remember feeling that no matter what, things just wouldn’t be right. Shirley was moved away from her section to work on producing algorithms for the purposes of multi-skilling a reduced workforce. I would buy sweets every Friday so I had an excuse to go and give her some. But there was no reconciliation. She was cold. My window of opportunity that I had assumed would be around for a lot longer was gone. I’d blown it.

At the Christmas party we took to the dance floor. She told me to find a nice girl for myself. I told her I didn’t understand. She repeated her statement and I said I still didn’t understand. Basically she had made her bed elsewhere and was brushing me off. During my Christmas break I felt absolutely terrible. I had time off, but nobody to do anything with. I despairingly told myself ‘you’re being left behind’. I began to feel like I was all alone on a raft in the middle of the ocean, hopelessly lost. I had a sense of impending doom. I felt like I was going to die.

Next month I was sat behind Shirley and I asked her what she was doing that weekend. ‘Why?’ she asked. ‘Because I wondered if you wanted to go out’ I spluttered, belatedly trying to correct my errors. ‘Well I can’t really can I’ she replied. I felt terrible. I lost my humour and began feeling vacant. It should have been obvious to anyone who knew me that I was deeply troubled. My friend Cliff told me that he had suffered anxiety after splitting from a girlfriend and had ‘sorted himself out’ in the gym. I would go to the gym to do weights but during my workout I would get a searing pain as if an axe had been driven down the middle of my head and my head would pound all night. My limbs would fly out on their own accord when I relaxed and my back would arch up off the bed as if I had been electrocuted. I felt constantly exhausted. I passed my A’ level psychology course with a grade A.

I went for long walks and would end up sitting under motorway bridges just wanting to shut the world out. Everything meant nothing. I felt absolutely terrible. My nerves were all over the place. I knelt over my bed just trying... trying to pull myself together... but I couldn’t. I began to have a strong urge to place my clenched hands in front of my face. I realized that I must have some form of depression but I was trying to think and fight my way out of it. I didn’t understand why I didn’t want to live anymore and why I couldn’t pull myself together. I would go to church on my own (outside of mass) and tears would roll down my face. What was happening to me? Why couldn’t I beat it? Why didn’t I want to live anymore? I would constantly review my past. ‘Was it because of this’... ‘Was it because of that..?’ ‘Did I have Schizophrenia?’ I felt absolutely terrified, like something inside was screaming out. I prayed to God for help but none was forthcoming. My confidence and energy levels were so incredibly low, just a few percent of normal. It was as if the life and the will to live were being sucked out of me. Like I was bleeding to death – but it wasn’t blood that was seeping from me, but mental life. I went to see my GP but ended up seeing a junior Doctor. ‘Why are you depressed?’ he asked impatiently as if I was some sort of malingering weakling. He prescribed me some sleeping pills which made no difference. I went to see a psychotherapist privately but to no avail. He took pictures of my iris as he said he could determine the problem from the stresses therein! I had no energy. I would just lie on the bare floor not wanting to get up. ‘What’s the point’ I would despairingly scream inside. ‘What’s the point (of living) when we are all going to die one day anyway’. The world had become a different place altogether – hopeless, terrifying, meaningless, futile. The sense of continuity I had experienced all my life was gone. This was something else. This was not planet earth any more. There was an awesome force inside me. It was unlike anything else I had ever experienced. A uni-directional force, massive and overwhelming, taking me somewhere from which there could be no possible return. Somehow everything in life is reversible; everything in life can be undone. Everything has two directions. But not this. This was an awesome one way journey from which it was completely and utterly impossible to return. And it was winning. For all my resistance I was being consumed irreversibly into a vacuum. Eventually I went to see my GP. I told him my problems and experiences. After three visits he suggested I see a psychiatrist and I agreed.

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This product was added to our catalog on Wednesday 01 November, 2006.