There is no question here that it was a horrible war with men committing atrocities and simply carrying out the grim task of murdering the enemy — many of whom had been their neighbors just a few weeks before — every day.
Was Lubitz an evil genius? I take exception to the conclusion that his actions were in any way “malicious”.
The fact is we are painters in real life, and the important thing is to breathe as hard as ever we can breathe. — Vincent Van Gogh
I must tell the truth here: I do not understand what Andreas Lubitz did. In my suicidal fugues, I thought of many ways that I might kill myself that involved others such as throwing myself in front of a truck or crashing my car into a tree or driving it off a cliff, but the idea of taking others with me — that wasn’t the self-annihilation that I planned. When I came close,I found a secluded place where someone would eventually find me. That was the maximum involvement of another that I planned. Though I thought capital punishment might work for me — and send a message to those who loved me — I did not want to assassinate others.
Rumor has it that Lubitz was going through some catastrophic issues with his girlfriend. He knew that he was ill and he was seeking treatment for it. The day of the crash, his psychiatrist issued a sick leave note. Andreas did not use it, however, and his doctor could not call the airline to tell them that he was at risk. But Lubitz did not stop at ending his own life:
Andreas Lubitz was breathing, steady and calm, in the final moments of Germanwings Flight 9525. It was the only sound from within the cockpit that the voice recorder detected as Mr. Lubitz, the co-pilot, sent the plane into its descent.
The sounds coming from outside the cockpit door on Tuesday were something else altogether: knocking and pleading from the commanding pilot that he be let in, then violent pounding on the door and finally passengers’ screams moments before the plane, carrying 150 people, slammed into a mountainside in the French Alps.
Nude and pornographic are not the same
I live with bipolar disorder and one of my symptoms is grandiosity.
I’ve had the site for years and I’ve parceled out pieces to friends for their own blogs, but I have finally given it over to the purpose for which I intended it — as a blog for my own photos. You can check it out at http://gallery.pathsoflight.us. Please come by and leave compliments and other comments!
My mother, it seemed to me, was just mean. For this reason, I kept my diagnosis a secret from her but someone told her. One Thanksgiving she made a disparaging comment….
We can move souls to greater understanding and action by telling people what it is like to live among paranoid normal people. No family member possesses this experience.
I have no secrets to impart, just my life experiences in which you might or might not recognize yourself.
It’s the damn wind again, a Santa Ana blowing off the mountain and against my door. Combined with the heat, it gives me a headache and a stiff feeling all over my body. Plus I have been sneezing.
At first I mistook this for a depression. Friends counseled me to seek out some sunlight. As soon as I went out the door, though, pollen blew up my nose. This disabused me of my theory and I went inside to take some Tylenol for my headache.
Daylight Savings Time certainly doesn’t help.
Bipolar brings on the worry that I am seeing the signs of an imminent mood swing. A cold, the flu, or allergy attacks in their early stages cause me to worry that I am sinking. Then I get a clue as the symptoms worsen and I let go of my dread.
The dog feels the effects, too. He has been pacing nervously up and down the hall, his claws clicking on the wood laminate flooring. I get up from time to time to join him and he follows me. This is the madness of the foehn, the agitation that the drop in air pressure here in the valley brings from the mountains. I hate this part of March and wait impatiently for it to just go away.