Gregory Smith (Guest) · 07:57
Uh, yeah, this was between the ages of about, um, 13 and up till I was 19. At the age of 17, I was diagnosed as a sociopath by the state psychiatrist. And to put that into context, um, trauma, um, wasn't really recognized. It was just on the, you know, new on the, on the, um, psychological radar, the medical radar. And, you know, And we have our veterans from Vietnam to thank for all the contributions they made to the understandings of trauma. And I was presented before this state psychiatrist who was kind of stumped as to give me a label. And so he put his hand in the hat and pulled out sociopath. And that's who I was. I was a sociopath. Um, and after I was— it was explained to me what a sociopath was, there was a certain amount of relief inside of me because now I knew what was wrong with me, you know. It gave me a sense of understanding. Yes. Now Of course, today I understand that all these assumptions were misaligned and the diagnosis wasn't necessarily correct. But at the time, it was because I was confused. I didn't belong to anybody. I was given away. I was always angry. I was always in trouble. And to be— to have a label to, to explain all that is actually really important, or it was at the time. Yeah, but I mentioned earlier that, um, you know, I was in those institutions until I was 19. Now, most, most young people left at the age of 18. They called it the Queen's pleasure, um, and the Queen must have really liked me because she kept me there for an extra year. So, but it was a week before my 19th birthday and I was released and I was called up to the office and given 3 things: $2.25, set of secondhand clothes, and a piece of advice: don't come back. The advice I took, the money I went and bought some drinks with in a pub, that was my first taste of alcohol. What that did to me was just for a moment in my life, after drinking that alcohol, I felt calm. It just— there was a release of tension, and there was a feeling that I was to chase for many years after that. It was just that peace of calm. But that wasn't to be. And, you know, um, once I was out of those places, I tried to do the right thing. I really did. But some of the things in those institutions, they don't teach you how to get a job. They don't teach you how to find somewhere to live. They don't teach you how to pay the bills. And for myself, having spent so much time in solitary confinement, I nearly— I never really learned how to communicate or be a part of, um, with other people. So for much of my life after that, I was always on the outside. I was always that that odd person that didn't fit in, you know. And that, of course, creates, um, emotion and trauma and more anger for me. That went on until I was, you know, I tried to get married, um, and today I understand, you know, I think, you know, Most people take— most men take a wife. I took a hostage. And, you know, um, no, I was still angry, you know. But fortunately, she was a little bit smarter than I was at the time, and she got out of that relationship very quickly. And all credit to her for that. Um, but then I just wandered around. I, you know, getting— trying to get jobs. You know, the best I could do is a cleaner job or gardening, a bit of gardening, seasonal work picking fruit. And that was me. Worked on the trawlers out of Yeppoon, cane cutting. If I could get a little bit of work here or there, I would. I always wanted to do the right thing. I always wanted to be a part of, but I never had those skills. And at the age of about 35, um, quite by chance, I found myself sitting in a rainforest, um, with leeches all around me and the rain coming down. And when it was all said and done, it was just a moment of peace. Now, when I stopped and thought about it, the reason that I felt so peaceful in that forest is because people were a long way away and I didn't have to be a part of it. I could just be me. And I liked it. I liked it a lot. I liked it so much that I decided I'd stay there for a while. And in that forest, um, you know, I learned to survive. I learned a new way of surviving, and it was an adventure for a little while because it was different. I was independent. I didn't have to rely on anything. Nobody was telling me what an idiot I was or how disgusting I was or anything like that. You know, there was just me. And the problem was that when I went into the forest, I took me with me, which meant that I took all that pain, all that trauma, all that hurt was living inside me. And so I still needed a means by which to kill that pain. To anesthetize myself to a point where I can actually survive. So now, over time, I developed techniques which are probably not mentionable on a social podcast, um, to barter with hippies and other types of people. Which actually gave me quite, quite a substantial, um, way of life. You know, I learned to brew my own alcohol up in the forest and grow my own herbs, shall we say, in the forest. Um, the problem with that is, you know, I had this unlimited supply of alcohol than herbs. And, um, you know, I was eating a lot of the herbs and washing them down with, um, with alcohol, uh, which made me very sick over the years. And, um, after 5 or 6 years, psychosis started to move in, um, and I started to become quite ill. But it turned out I was in there for about 10 years. And, you know, what moved me out of the forest was I lost an argument with some aliens. Basically, they arrived at my campsite one evening and said, you know, because I, you know, I would verbalize my thoughts on occasions. And one evening when these people arrived, they said to me, you know, 'So you want to die in the forest?' And I said, 'Yes, that's right.' They said, 'You don't want to hurt anyone else, and that's why you're living in a forest.' I said, 'Yes, that's right.' And then they used my own logic against me. And they said, well, if you die in a forest, your body will rot and there's a possibility nobody will ever find you. I said, yes, that's right. That's what I want. And I said, but what about your family? What about your sisters that you haven't seen for, you know, 20 years, 25, 30 years? You'll hurt them. They'll never have closure. They will never know what happened. To you. And that actually touched me. It actually got to me. And I felt that they, at that point, they had the upper hand. And the deal was that if I lost that argument, I had to reconsider my position and give society another chance. And I lost that argument.