I’m hurt, I’m punch drunk.  Every day, people shouting, banging, barking and vomiting noise.  I always feel bad about leaving a bad situation, because my church leaders have historically said that if you can’t be a Christian where you are, you can’t be a Christian anywhere.  I’m not sure how that works when you feel as if you are being torn apart and having your throat savaged by packs of human dogs.  What does it mean then, to be a Christian where you are in that situation?  People have said to me before, in different situations, that I don’t have to stay, but in light of the previous statement that has felt like a taunt, or at least a contradiction.

I’m in a hotel.  There are men shouting like savages on a football pitch, angrily, defiantly, power-grabbingly.  This is Plovdiv.  As far as I am concerned, these people are angry and still murderous.  I feel sick.  I really can’t cope any more.  It’s satanic, it’s disgusting, and for all the support I have in my community, both here and in London, I might as well be homeless.  I’m not, but I might as well be, because the police don’t care.  I feel really sick.  These people, men and women, puncture the air with shouts and banging, even at illegal times, and if you challenge them they are all smooth, sometimes, as if they are happy to accommodate my requirement that they revert to acting legally, or as if they are not wrong in the first place.  I feel sick with fear and desperation, and as for the church . . . visit www.christiancentre.org and listen to the Sunday morning, Easter morning sermon, Laurence James-Davis, listen to him shouting, catch the moment of guilty registering in his voice a little later on apparently, to me, knowing he is all noise and no substance, that his shouting is not appropriate, but still he continues.  That is what these people are like here.  Is this the kind of Christianity they have swallowed and are acting out against me?  Dominionism.  Make some noise.  I read in a Christian book, David Wilkerson, I think, that empty cans make the most noise.  These people’s noise, and the way it savages my consciousness, deliberately, sometimes, I am absolutely sure, is literally sickening.

I bought some new clothes last week.  A pack of dogs – sorry, men – passed me and called me a slut.

I went to the police with the violent harassment thing with my neighbours, and they said something about immoral woman and prostitute and told me to leave the station, suggesting by their attitude that they might treat me roughly if I didn’t comply.  Every time I think and get quiet to express myself, these men shout into the air.  This is the most externalised spiritual battle I have ever been part of.  They bark into the air, going straight for my throat, and seem to think it is reasonable.  If you challenge them they laugh or treat you like an idiot.

I can’t cope.  I feel emotionally and mentally raped.  I really can’t cope.  I have no safe place to go.  Even the church is full of defiant and evasive liars shouting from the platforms.  Colin Dye talked about Judas on Sunday (or was it the Chinese guy at 2.30?) and talked about his betrayal and suicide, as if the two belonged together.  That is old pentecostal teaching, and I have swallowed it.  I believe it is right and reasonable, and that to see suicide in any other light is dishonest.  I think if you dissect it finely enough and examine it under a strong enough microscope you can’t honestly come to any other conclusion.

So is there no level of pain or abandonment or isolation that can justify feelings of wanting to die?  Are all such feelings evidence that, somehow, at some level, you are or have been treacherous in some way?  Even if you have been, if you have sadistic, dishonest rub your nose in it people dealing with you, how are you supposed to feel?  They give you no way back to life.  They themselves are wrong, but they insist you take your place in life again on their terms.

These men and their shouting is making me feel violent and desperate.  They are real madhouse material.  I think they are stupid and dangerous and should be taken off the streets.  I think it shows that I feel somehow responsible for them, that I feel this way.  But they are gross and I’m a woman.  The way their behaviour collides with my mind and feelings is completely terrifying me, in my situation as it is.  They are grossly defiant.  Every utterance of theirs is an insistence that it is OK.  There is nothing in their minds that is recognisable to me as being in any way decent.

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