The needle and the damage done
By Graham Crawford
I read an article years ago about research into rare survivors of extreme suicide attempts.
Extreme as in being clearly beyond ‘a cry for help’. Extreme as in jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco where more than 1,800 people have plunged to their deaths and only a few dozen lived to tell the tale.
Researchers discovered through interviews that 95% of those absolutely determined to end things were glad when they failed. Glad to be given a second chance.
I developed a morbid fascination about the desperately tragic implications of that statistic: that the vast majority of those who tried and succeeded in taking their life would have been grateful to have survived.
I contemplated on how many souls leaping off that San Francisco Bay bridge to their death changed their minds in the four-second plunge to hitting the water at 75mph and thought: ‘What have I done? I don’t want this. I want to live.’
One in 20 jumpers even survive the impact only to drown or die of hypothermia in the freezing waters.
I thought of all this again today when I read a comment below a video about the terrifyingly high levels of excess, and non-covid related, deaths throughout the world’s highest vaccinated countries.
It stated: ‘I regretted it the moment the needle went in, and I’ve regretted it ever since.’
For that person, the irreversible leap into the unknown had been made and there was no going back.
Depending on what figures you believe, around 50 million people in the UK and 5.5 billion worldwide have made the leap.
Many remain in ignorance of what it truly means, but as reports and general chat leaks out about horrendous numbers of alleged vaccine-related deaths and terrible side effects, how much longer before they are hit by the harsh reality of this particular water?
Psychologically, it will be a nightmare place to be in.
The very thought of that potentially ticking time bomb may be too much for many to bear. How will they cope? How will they and the rest of the world hold together under the weight of collective anxiety and anger at being callously misled into taking, often repeatedly, a highly suspect experimental injection they never actually needed?
Some weeks ago, I was in one of Glasgow’s busiest shopping streets at a memorial for reported covid injection dead and severely injured when a passer-by in her early seventies told me how she had ended up in A&E twice following the jab.
She had taken it very much against her instinct and will after being continuously hounded, badgered and guilt-tripped by her husband and other family members.
A year on, she was still clearly deeply angry at her husband – and also at herself for eventually succumbing to the bullying.
She said as much, and also admitted that because of it all she no longer felt the same towards her husband and did not know if her marriage of 50 years could survive.
This lady and millions, possibly billions, of others may also have to deal with an enormous sense of utter betrayal by governments, scientists, Big Pharma, doctors, and all the other establishment institutions – not least of all the mainstream media.
The latter were the very people who should have sought to give us ‘fair, balanced and accurate reporting’, but who instead relentlessly terrified entire populations with their disproportionate and misleading fear messages about the virus and their endless threats of social exclusion or worse for dissenters of lockdowns, masks and the so-called vaccines.
But here is the thing: I believe that those of us who did not buckle under the strain of this pressure actually faced our own severe trauma.
We could see clearly the complete madness unfolding before our eyes. We could see from early on that the covid emperor had no clothes; that it was all an exaggeration, a colossal illusion built on deception after deception until the truth became the lie and the lie became ‘the truth’.
To bear witness to this and hold onto solid ground was extremely difficult.
It was like being plunged, without warning, into the middle of an asylum surrounded by genuinely unhinged people. The doors are locked and there is no apparent means of escape, and you are there day after day, month after month, year after year. How hard is it for you yourself to stay completely sane?
But I, and others, did hang on to a semblance of sanity, just enough to hold it together, even look for an escape, because we discovered and found strength in each other; we were not quite alone in this cruel dystopian nightmare where all previous solidity, logic and sense had been cast to the winds.
By the grace of sheer will of spirit, we remain bloodied but unbowed, but there is so much still to heal. And that is a process I doubt will ever be complete.
A scar is a scar; it may soften in time but it never quite goes away.
I know I will never view governments in the way same again as I did pre-covid. Any residue of trust has gone completely.
I will never again trust the BBC and the rest of the mainstream media, and as a former journalist that is a deep gash.
I will never quite trust doctors or nurses who fell into line and stayed silent.
Or so-called scientists and academics who again stayed silent or were prepared to fudge the truth to protect their grants and jobs.
Or police who turned so easily from community-supporting crime fighters to unthinking, ruthless, masked-up and tooled-up government enforcers.
Or hysterical teachers and their unions who gave away their great lie that ‘they cared about the children’. Teachers and unions who were happy to demand and allow schools to be shut for long periods and for youngsters to be masked and thereby physically and psychologically abused for many months on their return.
Or churches in their various forms for their complicit silence over lockdowns, closed doors and isolation. Or their leaders who came out with outrageously ridiculous and hate-inspiring statements such as ‘Jesus would want everyone to be vaccinated and to do otherwise is an act of selfishness’.
And then there are the neighbours, friends, family members and everyone else who displayed a total lack of critical thinking or ability to say No to clearly nonsensical restrictions and measures.
They put me, and my like, at risk with their compliance. They still do. What jeopardies do they hold for us in the future with their weak and blind obedience?
They were complicit in the theft of more than two years of my life.
They made it clear by their words and/or actions that they were not my friends or allies, that they did not want what was best for me. If they had, they would not have effectively taken away my freedoms and choice.
Will I ever again respect or view them like I once did? I think not, and I cannot forget who they are.
My worldview has changed forever.
I am also now like a wary dog, constantly watchful of the abusive ‘master’ should he attempt to raise his hand again.
Only now I know that no one is my master – or ever will be.
And do you know what else? I am one of a huge pack.