Category: Veganism


Christianity and Veganism – Either/Or?

Today I went to a Zizzi restaurant in Newark.  All I wanted was a glass of wine but I thought I had better at least buy an Italian bread bucket, as it is a restaurant not a pub.  As a vegan I was not thinking that the fining process for the wine had probably involved the use of animal or fish products.  I wasn’t thinking, all I wanted was a glass of wine after over two weeks not drinking anything.  In the end I had two glasses of wine, sea bream and tiramisu.  Some vegan I am?  Yes, absolutely.  I keep wanting to ‘eat normally’, ie, not vegan, and sometimes I give in to the urge.  The last two or three months I have given in a few times.  Until tonight, over the last two weeks I have been OK and stuck to the straight and narrow path of being a vegan.  It’s been better for my digestion as well.

Today, before this, I was thinking that the reason I am a vegan is that eating non-vegan harms animals, even just using their products, given the farming methods used, and that it brutalises people, especially at the extreme end of those who work in slaughter houses.  I wanted to be a vegan because I wanted to affirm myself as a human being who does not harm or cause suffering to animals and is not in any way involved with it.  There are people who say they would never harm a fly who eat meat and fish and their products regularly.  They are in denial.  Other people are being paid to do the dirty work for them and they buy the sanitised product at the end, and obviously recognise no link between themselves and any harm or suffering caused to an animal.  If they say they would never harm a fly and mean it, their thoughts and feelings lack clarity.

At the moment, though, I could joyfully abandon veganism.  I often crave foods that are not vegan, the vegan equivalents are just a bit harder to get hold of and a bit more expensive, and there have been times when I have eaten seitan when I have wanted to cut into some real flesh.

Christianity and Veganism – either/or?  Apart from two years in my teens I have always considered myself a Christian.  Even during the first years of being hospitalised I sometimes had difficulty seeing myself as Christian, but in those days I considered myself to be in a bad place in my life.  In my teens I embraced a life without God for two years.

The one thing we know about the things Jesus ate, if we believe the Bible, is that he ate fish.  For a few years now I have held to a position in my thinking if not always in my practice, that abstinence from all things animal is morally superior to indulgence.  So I was asking myself earlier today, where does that leave Jesus?  If it is better not to eat flesh or any of its products, where does that put the Saviour of the world, morally?  I get embarrassed when I don’t eat vegan.  I would be embarrassed to give up my vegan position, and have often seen my slips as sin.  If my slips are sin, did Jesus sin in eating fish?  Yet I have seen my veganism as part of my Christianity.  I have thought a great deal of the vegans I have met, robust and beautiful people.  Is it enough to say that Jesus was a man of his time and ate flesh without sinning?  I think vegetarians and vegans existed in those days as well.

I don’t know about veganism, but vegetarianism is an important part of some Eastern religions.  When the apostle Paul wrote to the Romans he recognised that some people did not eat meat and saw them as the weaker brethren with weaker consciences, and said that if his eating meat caused any of them to stumble he would never eat meat again.  There is no reason in the text to believe he did not mean this and it seems possible that he might have become vegetarian himself, because undoubtedly there were people who would have been stumbled by his eating meat.  I’m wondering if I am making too big a thing of this in believing that holding to a position that veganism is morally superior and preferable is incompatible with me calling myself a Christian in the traditional sense.  The kind of Christianity I have believed in says that Jesus was sinless, yet He ate fish, at the very least.

A while ago I made a new blog out of the blog entries and forum posts that I had copied and saved from my Premier Radio blog, which was where I started blogging.  I’ve been meaning to put the link up for ages so here it is: http://premierchristianradiorejects.wordpress.com/

There is a big thing about veganism and me trying to think it through as a Christian who since my teens was brought up to believe in the sacrificial death and atoning blood of Jesus.  It hardly seems necessary for me to say now that I don’t believe the death of Jesus was required arbitrarily by God as a thing in itself, but that it was necessary for Jesus to give Himself up to death as an act of love.  At least that is how I was thinking.  I’ve begun to see it more politically recently.  That when Jesus said that no prophet ever died outside of Jerusalem He wasn’t being acerbic or sarcastic but was speaking a fact, and that that was what He meant when He said no one takes my life, I lay it down myself.  He laid it down by going back into Jerusalem when He knew they wanted to arrest Him.  If we believe in a literal resurrection, though, that was a miracle of God, in a way that His ability to give or withhold His life once they had Him was not, given that He did not call angels to stop the whole thing.

That was my favourite discussion topic that I started on that blog.  Without looking I don’t remember what else is there.

This Moment IS

The staff on the ward have found my blog, without me giving them the address but saying angrily a few times that I was going to blog.  The ward manager collared me twice, once quite softly and the second time in a way which made me feel they wanted to take my computer and my leave away.  The second time she approached me with 2 other female staff members and in public.  She said she wanted to talk about my use of my computer on the ward.  I said it was music and that I have no internet connection on the ward.  She asked me quite crossly where I wrote my blog and how I wrote it and I pointed out that I have 5 1/2 hours total off the ward and I go where I can get a connection and that I have the same freedoms as everyone else in that time.  They said they did not like having their names associated with certain things.  I said that I have things associated with my name which I don’t like also, and that they were free to write or comment.  It was probably in that context that she said that it was a matter of confidentiality, but I took it to mean that she was saying I was breaking a duty of confidentiality which I was quick to point out that I do not have but that they do.  They talked about seeking advice.  I said OK.  I hope if and when they do the outcome will make a big difference in society and for people who are held against their wishes and with other forms of abuse, harassment and bullying thrown in.

This is good.

They saw me coming towards the office/ward exit this afternoon and it seemed to me they deliberately closed the office door and I stood outside knocking with them ignoring me.  This happens often.  The staff last night were calling people rude.  I’m not sure who they meant.  At the time it seemed it was obvious they meant me.

2 nights ago a woman had 2 separate instances of being forcibly medicated.  Hefty men called and involved, on an all-female ward.  If anyone knows how that is appropriate I would appreciate the feedback through comments.  She said they had hurt her hand and it was all swollen and red.  I know I have been there, in London.  It took 6 months for my hand to stop hurting, and the man doing it at the time, when I said he was hurting me, said ‘well, you will learn your lesson, then, won’t you?’  I was never contemptuous of my own life until I felt betrayed by the church and came under the psychiatric services.

We appear to have a large degree of revolt and anarchy on the ward at the moment.  Everyone is angry and the staff are, to my mind, often unprofessional.  Everyone knows what is happening but the staff say nothing, and I think most of us patients know they know more than they are allowing us to be party to and that, if we were allowed to be party to the staff’s knowledge of what everyone knows, a lot of things might be called into question.  Just a thought.

This blog is exactly what it says in the title, that and nothing else – the thoughts and observations of a certified nut.  Why would anyone want to seek advice over that?

Did I say that I had had a bad week as a vegan last week?  I was tempted again earlier this week but I talked myself through it.  I went through the ‘so I’ll feel guilty’ bit and realised afresh that it is about the suffering or death or utilisation of an animal in a way which is not ideal.  I decided we are different from most of the animal world in that we have a conscience and can think, philosophise and moralise about our behaviour.  I had tears in my eyes as I thought it through.  I was happy about that.  It is about the animal and about me, living according to my light.

Jesus is wonderful and I love Him.  He ate fish.  I’m not sure how to harmonise that.  It is said that the prophets were vegetarian and that the Essenes were also.  And I believe it is right not to use animals.  So I can’t deal with the Jesus and fish thing – not at all, in that context.  I think I was taught at Bible College that John the Baptist was an Essene.  So while they might have said ‘but Jesus ate fish so it isn’t wrong’, why would John the Baptist have lived by a higher morality?  We were told that when it says JTB ate locusts, it actually means the locust bean, and not the insect.

I??? Think???

Ever tried to write without any kind of privacy in a world where everyone always seems to react to you?

I’m back in hospital in Nottingham.  Section 2.  I’ve been thinking it is more like a boot camp than a place where people can heal, and people are the best managers of their own healing, I think.

Not much time.  I get 2 hours out twice a day.  Having tried to work my way through the anger of impatient and clever-clogs librarians and twitterers, I have 13 minutes left of my original 30.

People want me to come into line, but if I come into line with what I have, they would reject me, orsomething which to me would be meaningless.  So why can’t people just respect my privacy and my right to be who I am in the first place without using their job to do whatever it is they are trying to do which is, in my opinion, in breach of that?

What else was I going to say?  I started off with so much rthat shoulod have filled so much time, now I can’t think how to fill the time I have left.

I was on the bus just now.  Saw a man who looked like Gordon Ramsey.  I wondered if he knew or had been told or if that was what he was trying for.  Then I had a thought I might have had before.  If someone is trying to look like someone else, they might not be happy with who they are.  So saying to someone ‘do you kinow you look like . . . ?’ is not a very helpful thing, even and especially if that is what they are trying to do.  I decided I would not say to people again, with a pleasurable smile on my face ‘you look like . . .’, because even if that gave them satisfaction, it would be satisfaction in the wrong thing, and it wouldn’t last long, because they are not that person.

I decided any pleasurable comment about a person should be about who they are, not who they remind you of.  Also they might be sick of being told they look like someone else and feel about this the same way that I am writing now.  That they want to be a pleasure, or affirmed, for who they are, and not who they remind you of.  At root that is what everyone wants, whether they know it or not.

4 minutes left.  Time to tag and run.

Continued from ‘Police Stop and Search Slashed’ post.

Some time after 6am I found myself confronted by two police women asking me what I was doing there and, as I tried to explain, they talked me down and I thought they were rude, so I persisted in trying to explain until I got upset and they said I wasn’t being very nice.  They said they were trying to help me, all I could see was that they wanted to move me on, and I felt as if I had been a specific target.  I just thought they were really rude and unintelligent in the way they communicated and I was trying really hard to make them understand how I was feeling and how this was not a permanent or particularly chosen situation for me to be in, that I had tried to get a crisis loan and the systems had been down, and everything else I said in the post I referred to in my opening line.  They were pointing at me and being really provocative and aggressive.  Not violent, aggressive.

The next thing I knew they were calling backup, and 2 male officers arrived.  The way they looked at me and treated me and teased me about the way I was behaving, I lost it.

There was a male member of airport staff with a white shirt sitting opposite me, he had been there for about half an hour.  He had been speaking, it seemed to me, for my hearing, even though he must have been about 25 feet away.  He was lounging backwards and eyeing me and his body language was challenge and domination.  He continued to watch and listen intently, almost as if he was theatre audience or in a court room, while these police women were talking to me, and he was freaking me out.  I told the police I wasn’t going to talk to them anymore while he was sitting there doing what he was doing and until he was removed.  He was just eyeing me determinedly, but they refused to deal with him.

One of the male officers said loudly at some point, ‘all women are crazy’ and I wanted to make it stop and make it unsaid and take him to task but there seemed to be no way to do it.  I didn’t know how to handle it.  I was horrified and couldn’t believe he had said it.  Eventually they were dragging me out of the airport and he was continuing to be provocative.  I was objecting and he was saying ‘no one cares’, and it felt like a personal and emotional invalidation.  I had recently heard on The News Quiz on Radio 4 that 700-900 officers in the Metropolitan police have criminal records, including GBH.  Someone has told me since this incident that people with criminal records are not allowed to join the police and the records might have been gained while with the police, but I don’t know.

Anyway, I was wound up and swearing, and the same man said ‘if you swear once more I will put you under arrest’.  So I said, not feeling able to back down at that point, ‘OK then, fuck off’.  It was funny, he should have laughed and seen how inappropriate he was being himself.  The woman officer at the station I told as i was leaving laughed when I recounted it, and that felt like a real relief.  But instead he just said straight away, ‘right, you’re under arrest’.  At some point he put handcuffs on me.  My right wrist was black and purple for almost a week afterwards.

I said they were acting illegally, and that while I might be on the wrong side of the police, the police were on the wrong side of the law.  I said they were illegal, he said contemptuously ‘we all know what you are.  I asked him what and he wouldn’t answer.  I kept pressing him for an answer and he wouldn’t say.  I started shouting the odds again about the figures for police with criminal records, addressing the people around me, and he kept saying ‘no one cares’.  I said that wasn’t true.   I get one incident mixed up with another so I’m not sure how much I said on that occasion.  So I won’t make it up as if I can.

Every time I spoke they were speaking into and over me, if that makes sense to people.  I said they had killed my father, that he had committed suicide, but that I wasn’t going to commit suicide, I was going to blog.  At the same time that I was saying I was only 11 years old when my father committed suicide, he was saying, ‘I bet he killed himself because of you’.  I’ve heard that only one other time in my life, from a class mate straight after his death.  I was outraged, like an animal in pain.  He had no right to say that, but no matter how much I objected and kept trying to say they had no right to do what they were doing, they just kept mocking me and talking me down.

When they took me out of the van they gave a skewed account to the desk sergeant about what had happened and I said it was a misrepresentation.  They were being strict and confrontational, I said I had an appointment with the housing people about getting emergency housing at 11am (it was between 7.30 and 8am) and the sergeant said ‘I think you are going to miss it’.  I said ‘I bet you’re going to keep me here until it is too late for me to get a crisis loan today as well, aren’t you, so I will have no money tonight either, so what do you expect me to do and what good do you think you are doing?’

I felt I was being treated unfairly throughout and was angry and trying to be heard, but they were deliberately ignoring me.  I’m not sure if I had mentioned the harassment and vigilantism at this point or not.  But somehow it came about that the man who had been saying the things I have written started saying with seething anger, ‘she is going to come up to the desk and talk to you like a lady’.  I said ‘I will start acting like a lady when you start acting like a decent man’.

They insisted I take my watch and therapeutic magnet off.  I said I didn’t want the disorientation of not even knowing what time it was, but in the end I relinquished them, and my necklace which I won in a Crisis at Christmas raffle, because the way they grabbed my hands it felt as if they might break my fingers if I didn’t.

At 8.10am they put me in a bare cell with a bed shelf and mattress, a blanket and a toilet.  There was no toilet paper.  They said they would get me some breakfast but I got nothing until lunchtime, by which time I hadn’t eaten or drunk anything or been to the toilet for over 12 hours.  I had not been offered a drink during this time.

They told me at the beginning of the morning that I could see a duty solicitor.  I left without having seen one.  They were reading something at the beginning while I was upset and shouting and they said ‘that’s a no, then’ to something I didn’t hear.

Soon, after not having slept all night, I started to fall asleep on the bench.  As soon as I did I heard a male voice shout out, and they were banging.  This happened several times, that one of them shouted out as soon as I began to fall asleep.  I felt desperate.  I later saw that there was a camera on the ceiling pointed straight at my bed.  I wondered how closely they had it trained on me.  Over the last 2 days I have thought seriously that they were deliberately using sleep deprivation and I believe I am right.

Their idea of a vegan lunch was chips and some vegetables, no protein.  I gave up trying to eat it, I was so upset.  I asked if i could have a cup of tea with my soya milk, but they said no, I couldn’t have anything which had come from outside the station, even though they had no soya milk and didn’t offer to get any for me.

Several times, at least through the afternoon, a male officer would walk up to my cell door, stop outside and cough hard and significantly, and walk away again.  It frightened and angered me.  I kept feeling screaming and hysteria rise into my throat which I had to control, because I knew expressing it would do no good.  I kept wanting to speak to them like friends and ask for their help.

On the ceiling inside the door there was a sign that said there could be a monetary reward for anonymous information leading to crime.  When I saw it I said something about bribery and corruption.

I have felt over the last couple of days that they had me there expecting me to ‘talk’.  But they never asked me any questions.

Later in the afternoon I said something about a cup of tea and that I was a vegan and didn’t drink dairy milk.  The officer was angry and rude and dismissive.  He brought a cup of tea, even though I had said i didn’t want black tea, and I also didn’t want water, which was all they would offer me instead.  So when he turned up with this I wondered what it was and asked him if it was black or if it had milk.  He said it was powdered milk, and put it down on the floor rudely saying ‘it’s tea, do you want it or don’t you?  You either want it or you don’t’.  I ‘said’, ‘I’m a vegan and have been for 4 years.  That is my life choice and you are being abusive and disrespectful’.

There were no books, nothing to write with, nothing was offered, and I was harassed constantly and not allowed to sleep.  I was a wreck.  After all that and everything they had put me through in the morning, I think at some point I asked them when the solicitor was coming and what we were waiting for, and the officer said we were waiting for a doctor, because they thought I needed a mental health assessment.  I started shouting angrily and hysterically, saying after everything they had done to me and without having seen a solicitor, they wanted to subject me to a mental health assessment, and I said all they were really interested in seeing from me was naked fear.

When the doctor came I was taken to an office with an open door, and as we were talking the police started to interfere again in the same way as they had been doing before when I was speaking, but pretending it had nothing to do with me.  I had asked for the door to be closed for privacy, but the doctor had refused and said it wasn’t necessary.  When the interventions came I started to be afraid and panic, and they kept them coming until I was unable to control my fear.  The doctor refused to recognise what was happening, and he ended the interview telling the police, after I had gone, that he thought I needed a mental health assessment.

I didn’t find this out until several hours later when I asked again what we were waiting for and when the solicitor was going to arrive.  All day I was not told that I would not be seeing a solicitor.  They said we were waiting for a mental health team because the doctor had believed I needed an assessment.  Again I became angry and hysterical.

Before my father died we had a dog, which survived his death by a few years.  When he was alive my dad used to take him out with a big stick.  I think there was a nail in the stick at one point.  I used to tease my dog with the stick and thought it was really funny when he went running under the settee screaming.  I have realised in recent years he was terrified and been really upset at myself for what I did.  He would come out all docile and upset and exhausted, qlmost as if he was crying and telling me he was upset.  Loving and trusting me and telling me, his tormentor, that he was upset and frightened and taking comfort from me.

That is how I felt when they started talking about mental health teams.  I thought they did it to make me scream, and they got that much, at least.

The mental health team decided I didn’t need to be in hospital and told me the offciers were going to try to find me somewhere to stay that night.

When the evening shift took over a woman came to my cell.  She seemed nice and sympathetic, and when I told her what the offcier had said about my father killing himself because of me, she seemed genuinely shocked and said he shouldn’t have said that.

I can’t remember all the order of how the last part of the day happened, but she told me that, because I had been arrested, they had the power to take my DNA and fingerprints.  I believed that saying she had the power was not the same as saying it was something they HAD to do, so I asked her if she was going to do it.  She said a male officer was going to do it.  She said he was a ‘good lad’, and I wondered what that counted for with people like the police.  What would this ‘good lad’ do with people who were not me?

I didn’t believe there was any point trying to resist or persuade, and I don’t know how I let them do it.  I knew throughout that it was unjust and an assault and although she kept trying to keep it light, I felt as if I was standing there having to pretend it was OK for them to rape me and believe the people doing it were ‘good’.  I couldn’t lash out.  They forced it through knowing as well as I did, I believe, that they had no right to be doing it and it wasn’t OK.  It was all a pretence and they were demanding a pretence of me. I was not at liberty to say how repulsive and abusive it was, although we all knew it.  I had to stand there and pretend that this enormity was a small and inconsequential thing, not an act of illegal subjugation and domination.

Afterwards, when I was standing at the desk, I saw a male officer behind a glass screen sitting in front of a computer.  I wasn’t sure if he had been there all day, he was acting as if he was part of the next shift.  I started watching him while he was watching his screen, and wondering what he was doing or reading or looking at.  My attitude was open, and as I watched, I saw him begin to smile and his smile got bigger and happier.  I thought he was reacting to me and I looked around and saw a camera immediately above the desk.  I realised he was watching me and immediately switched him off and turned away from the camera.  As I did his features darkened.  His number was ID 24.  A few minutes later he came out and said he was leaving and finishing his shift.  But I realised he was observing me at the desk through the camera.

After he went the woman officer tried to contact the out of hours crisis loan office, but there wasn’t one in that area, and no loan could be arranged.  Also they couldn’t arrange somewhere for me to spend the night.  Before I left she started talking with her colleague who was going to run me to the bus station.  She was talking in ways I felt I recognised, about ‘her 2 year old’ and that she was ‘vain’.  She seemed to be commenting on my bodily reactions that she could see from behind.  She talked about something being ‘back breaking’.

I had already talked to her about people talking in code.  I believed she was talking about me.  I thought she must be, she couldn’t possibly be calling her own child ‘vain’.  I couldn’t, at that time, believe she would do that.

Her colleague ran me to the bus station in a van exactly the same as the one I had been brought to the station in, and I sat in the back, exactly the same as before.  I felt it was a deliberate re-enactment, reversed, of what I had been through in the morning.  I almost felt as if they were saying that, if I had responded differently, I could have received (more) help.  I thought they had said I could hang around the bus station with everyone else, because there were people there all night.  But when I sought to clarify this as I got out of the van she said she hadn’t said any such thing and that I could be picked up for doing so, that it would be best if I didn’t.  But she knew I had no money and nowhere to go.  I wondered if she had been trying to get a last second capitulation from me.  I wanted to go back to the airport, it felt like the right thing to do and my right, but I was afraid and didn’t, I got on the tube.  I was upset and disorientated.

They had held me for 14 hours in sensory deprivation conditions, constantly harassed and banged at and coughed at and deprived of sleep, deliberately, I believed, and subjected to mental cruelty and torture.  In all that time I never saw the solicitor I had been told I would see.

Good Point, Melvyn Bragg

Why DID Jesus tell the disciples to take a sword and say ‘it is enough’ when they said they had two?  What did they need them for?  We aren’t told they used them.  I heard that and thought my whole anti-war argument was demolished.  I felt really embarrassed and wrong.  So did Jesus’ teaching contradict itself?  Did Jesus require obedience, or did he teach by tests and by allowing people to discover themselves to themselves?  He said ‘if you love me, keep my commandments’, so what commandments are we to keep? ‘Render to no man evil for evil but overcome evil with good’, or ‘take a sword’?

On Thursday morning I felt I had a moment of painful but completely cohesive understanding.  The writer of Hebrews (who I thought of as Paul, even though I know many if not most scholars reject that, but I had forgotten, so most of what I was thinking falls in regard to Paul) says in Hebrews 6:4-6 that it is impossible for someone who has tasted of the heavenly gift, if he falls away, to be renewed to repentance, as he has put the Lord to an open shame.  On Thursday morning I was thinking that it would be better if that had never been said or written.  But I was thinking of it out of context.  Its context was the return of Hebrew Christians to the old sacrificial system.

But I was thinking that verses like that as they are often understood and feared are the reason  for so much bandstanding when it comes to disagreements between Christians and insisting that we, really, love God.  I think so.  I think it is verses like these, coupled with some of the more heavily directive and dogmatic teaching that can be heard in church, that make us afraid to embrace ourselves and our thoughts and experiences and trust God that, if we face and handle and accept who we are, as and when in every aspect, that God will bring us through.  Rather than saying, ‘no, no, no, I love God’ without even allowing the thing we fear in ourselves to fully present itself.  We try to push it away rather than let it present itself fully to our perception to be ‘naturally’ rejected by us as Christians, recognised after a good long look, after exposing our inner eyes and ears, and just expelled by the whole person as foreign, rather than battening down the hatches and nipping even the thought and perception in the bud before it can develop to be understood and recognised.  If you don’t understand what you are rejecting, how can you REALLY reject it?  Is that why we so often struggle over and over with the same thing, because we won’t let it manifest in the first place to our recognition so it keeps coming back, because we are not rejecting it in the first place but closing our eyes in stubborn fear?

And the bitter arguments and the fear of each other, the denunciations, overtly or covertly.  It seems to me they are born of a fundamental fear, rather than a trust in the love and faithfulness and goodness of God.

For years I stopped telling God I loved Him.  I believed it was an assertion of something which was barely true.  Sometimes I would tell Him I obviously DIDN’T love Him, or I couldn’t do or be as I was.  I affirmed HIS love for ME and refused to lie, as I saw it, by saying I loved HIM.  Consequently I think pleading and asserting our own love for God in a discussion, conversation, disagreement or confrontation, or even in a public act of individual worship, can be an act of abuse and manipulation and a hindrance to humility and openness.  I think focussing on our love rather than His is a hindrance to deep and lasting change, more often than not.  Change is about more than performance.  It has to be initiated from outside of ourselves and should be something we submit to, not something we try to produce as an angst-ridden proof.  That is what I think.  Lasting change is a response to a truth which we know won’t move or change.  The truth puts pressure on us and we yield.  We don’t need to invoke God.  He is in the process and reveals Himself in the process.  In the process itself He draws us into relationship, with Him and with others.

I’m thinking a lot at the moment and having conflicting thoughts, but at the moment I would say I know this much is true, and that is where I will stop in this post.

I Agree With HIM!

“When I see bacon, I see a pig, I see a little friend, and that’s why I can’t eat it. Simple as that.” –Paul McCartney

I’m having an awful time at the moment, as far as being a vegan is concerned.

I keep wanting to give it up and go back to ‘normal’, happy, easily sociable and available eating.  The only reason I can’t and don’t is that I believe in my reasons for having become vegan in the first place.

So miserable!  I believe in my reasons, that I have no needs that require the death or utilisation of any other animal.  But recently I have wanted to rush straight back, with great joy, to being omnivorous.

I say ‘only one reason’, but that isn’t quite true.  Also my stalkers would never let it rest, and having made such a big thing about the rightness of veganism, I would be embarrassed.  I’d be confused myself, though, and I would also be doing an act of violence to myself to go back to being omnivorous.  People might get all chummy with me about having seen the light of omnivorism, and the error of my ways in trying to be vegan.  And sitting here writing this, right now, I can’t say for sure that I could never agree with that.  That would be saying that the life of an animal doesn’t matter so much that we can’t eat it, which is what I was brought up with, that we have God’s blessing to take an animal’s life for food.  I would like to believe that is true and feel I am just being proud and rebellious saying it isn’t.

I feel mesmerised, and also that I just can’t be bothered being a vegan anymore.  But as ever I don’t know what I feel and think as soon as I try to put it to print and think about it.  The same stuff is still happening.  I can’t tell the path from the scrub.

Internal tapes:

1.  Animals are for eating

2.  Christian Fundamentaslism is good or

3.  Christian fundamentalism is convenient because

4.  I want to eat what I can eat with fundamentalist, right-wing Christians

5.  I AM a fundamentalist, right-wing Christian.  If God says I can kill for ease and appetite, I CAN, and thank God for that!  If he says it I don’t have to think about it.  (what is this resentment I have against those who will not kill?  What is this need, what is this love, this strong emotion, I feel for and towards those who will not kill to eat?  It must be admiration, and more.  That the position of these people is where my heart is, the place I am challenged to recognise as right.  I would hate to convert someone from veganism/vegetarianism to being omnivorous.  I would hate to bring them down from their high place to such a place of shame.  And I would hate to have them validate my own).

6.  I AM a fundamentalist, right-wing Christian, in many ways, but also being a vegan, I could never fit in.  I would be teased all the time for being a vegan, and if I objected, it would be MY holiness called into question, and not theirs.  It could be fun and humorous, but there will also be those who go, in absolute conviction, for the fact that the Bible says that after the flood, God gave permission to eat meat, and re-asserted it later in the NT.

At the same time, in many arguers, there is a secret wanting to see it the same way as you do yourself.  It’s about liking and trusting and feeling safe, to some extent.  I was thinking last night that if someone says ‘thank you’ and a Christian says in response ‘it’s a blessing’, what the Christian is really saying is ‘I like you’.  It’s/you’re a blessing = I like you (or any other ordinary affirmation and expression of positive feeling/perception).

God IS, and we are dependent on Him.  But we are also dependent on air, for example.  We just breathe, it is automatic.  We don’t keep the air in mind and keep bringing it up AS need and essential.  If we did, it would demonstrate insecurity and that perhaps our supply was somehow threatened or contaminated.  In ordinary everyday life we don’t make constant references to the air to facilitate breathing or ANYTHING.  Or to our own bodies.  We don’t need to.

Them Upstairs (Again) New Place

Their behaviour is making me really anxious.  I think they are hacking my computer.

Apart from anything else, the violence, the show of being nice and good and saying dobre and hallelujah all the time, day and night, and violence worse than my last neighbours, if possible, I keep hearing a man up there nervously clearing his throat, and every time I do something a bit different – like today I did a search on how to grow citrus fruit, they react vocally, and this search got quite a delighted reaction.

As I said, I think they are hacking my computer.  So they will know the properties I have looked at and where.  I only thought, about 30 minutes ago, that it might not be just a bit of distressing stupidity, but they might be hacking (he just said dobre as if answering that and they began to react as soon as I started writing this.  Door slamming now) for someone, or even just for themselves, to establish and stalk and harass my future movements and relationships.  Now I think I have cause for concern.

I’ve told my landlord several times and he said he would talk to them and that they said they would try not to disturb me (it’s like having a stormtrooper as a carer, or a wild animal as my keeper), but yesterday I Skyped him and told him again what they were doing, the violence and everything, and didn’t ask, but demanded that I should be protected, in the property I was paying him for, from the people directly above it, who come with the property and over whom I have no choice.  That was yesterday morning.  Last night I had still not heard anything, and I don’t expect to, the way they have handled things so far.  He might even be in on it himself.

I’m looking at properties I really like.  I’ve even won 2 on ebay.  But if stalkers and computer hackers (he cleared his throat.  Most of the time now I try not to lose it completely because they start being violent and placing quite expert psychological attacks on my voice) and mafia, are going to attack and sabotage me everywhere, especially as I’m thinking of dealing commercially in food, that would put everyone at risk, I’m not sure if I can go ahead.  But I want to and insist on my right to do so without fear.

Mockery, cruelty, deception, violence, authorities who stand back and let them, possible savage attacks on future land and property.  I’ve just had some aural interjections which felt so evil I can’t complete this, it has confused my mind.

Edit note: They parrot and ghost my own voice right into my mind.  Normally if I try to retrieve emotional and psychological control of my own voice they ignore me or get violent, but I just reversed the sound being used and a man upstairs yelled as if offended or affected, as it affects me from them. What I hear in their voices I’ve started ending up with severe pains in my chest almost every day, my fear and outrage is so great.  They threatened to come on again just now.  I said in Bulgarian ‘your violence back on yourself, all of you’, and the pain started to dissolve and left, then I heard a woman’s sharp heals stamping on the stairs and they started to come back.  I don’t know how much of this stuff actually belongs together to affect me as it does.  They bang every time I go to the toilet or shower so I’ve noticed I’ve started going all day without a visit, and I’m too scared to move or open my mouth.

They seem to be reacting to something they feel spiritually when I am silent, all the time, when I relax.  I took 2 paracetamol and lay on my bed yesterday afternoon, sweating and immobile from the pain, and as soon as it seemed it was going completely, they banged on my ceiling.  I am sure the fact that they have to put a noise onto every one of mine, even my coughing and speech, has something to do with it.  I read a few months ago that Stalin was a satanist.  People talk about these things but say (legally and with authority to put you in a mental hospital) that you are crazy if you talk and act and reason as if they are true.

I left a comment on Tommy Boyd’s blog on Friday, about how the way people treat me sometimes makes me feel, emotionally, that I want to hit back.

At the time I left it, I was aware, listening back, that it seemed as if my comments were being tracked by the radio hosts I was listening to.  When it got to the time that I left that comment, the host who was on at that time said something sarcastically and derisively about unfailing love.

Apart from the obvious fact that it is God who is perfect love, and not me, I wasn’t aware he had access to my unpublished comments in the middle of me writing them anyway.  Well, I was, and have been for ages.   Unless it is a psychic thing, and I don’t think it is.  Sometimes, but probably rarely.

So it is stalking and harassment.  Hostage-taking and keeping, maybe.  And they love bomb you like a cult.

That kind of sarcasm, if it factored in something in Biology, for example, would be called an inhibitor or a limiting factor.  It is something I came across when I got interested in vegetarian food and was given a couple of books which went into detail about it.  Talking about available protein.

If I remember it right, proteins are made up of amino acids, the composition of which can be pictured as a star shape with unequal protrusions, the shorter ones limiting the availability, release and utilisation of the rest, and therefore the amount of available protein.  It was presented as a part of the idea of complementary protein, where, for instance, rice and beans complement each other and make more protein available when eaten together than is available if you add them up separately.  Wheat and milk is another one (that was vegetarianism, not veganism).  And there are others.  Some people say that is an outdated theory now, but the diet and nutrition industry being what it is, who knows?  I suppose if it was scientifically proved it must still stand.  It isn’t something which depends on individual metabolism, it is the protein available in combined foods, and that is testable in a laboratory (I think!) before the food enters the body.  Although thinking about it I am wondering how the necessary blending of the foodstuffs would take place apart from digestive breakdown, but that probably shows the limitation of my own knowledge due to inadequate study and experience.

But in relationships, I don’t want people behaving as inhibitors towards me in that way and thinking it is good or clever.  He went on to say something about ‘don’t cry, woman’, or something like that.  But by that time I wasn’t open to anything else which came from him, and I stopped listening.

PS – the WordPress system has just informed me that this is my 275th post and called me a dope.  Honestly!  “Dope!” – just like that.

I noticed yesterday that the tags I clicked on my blog only led me to related content within my blog.  I read on a forum today that this is universal at the moment within WordPress, and it is not clear whether this will be permanent or not.

I refer you to my page ‘How to Global Tag Search‘ for instructions on how to access material from other people using the same tags and categories I have used.

Actually it is really simple.  Click on the tag which will still confine you to my blog.  In the browser it will say https://suebarnett.wordpress.com/tag/(name of tag).  Delete ‘suebarnett’ in the browser so you have http://wordpress.com/tag/(name of tag), and that will take you to the global page where you can see everyone’s posts under that tag.

Apologies, I don’t know why this is happening.  Someone suggested it was permanent and someone said it is just WordPress soritng out their code.  I emailed WordPress before I realised it is a universal problem (it is a problem and severe inconvenience), but I haven’t had an email back yet and don’t expect to because they must have had countless emails on the subject.  If anyone knows or becomes aware of an official announcement please provide me with the link.  In the meantime I hope it is just a coding thing that needs to be sorted out.

I heard this term used in the news a short while ago in relation to something to do with US politics.  But you can have a satan sandwich, but it isn’t spelt that way, it is seitan.  It is also not supposed to be pronounced that way, the word is Asian in origin.  It is a vegan wheat gluten meat replacement, and I just found out it is sometimes referred to as mock duck.

I’ve been meaning to do this for ages, I just made myself a steak sandwich using seitan and the usual trimmings, and it was delicious.  For all the world, having eaten it, I can’t tell it wasn’t a traditional steak sandwich that I ate.  I made it with seitan from Kring, natural style, I think.  They also do spiced and chicken style.  Kring is a restaurant (full menu here) in Sofia which sells its products on the premises and also in some shops, in Sofia, Plovdiv and Ruse.  Their products are delicious, and for me as a vegan they are one of the saving graces of Bulgaria.  If you guys at Kring read this – hi, I love you, thanks for my great steak sandwich lunch!  And thanks for who you are too.  I really love you.  And I very much appreciate the addition of your gorgeously light vegan chocolate cake to your menu.  I haven’t tried the carrot cake yet, I am sure it is as good.

I get embarrassed trying to say ‘seitan’, because the obvious way appears to be ‘satan’, but that isn’t right.  But if you are insistent on trying to say it the right way people can think ‘methinks the lady doth protest too much’.  I bought a vegan cookery book when I first became a vegan, and it had a recipe called ‘seitanic’ something or other, and I was offended.  I like seitan, but I wish it was called something else.  As I said, I was offended, but now I wonder if using it in that way was just a way of emphasising the awkwardness and embarrassment and turning it into humour.  Seitan isn’t an English word.  It wasn’t designed to invoke ideas of satan.  I just read its most likely origin is Japan, which would make it a compound of two words, sei, meaning ‘to be’, or ‘to become’, and tan, meaning ‘protein’.

Obviously in England you can use the word subversively, and maybe that is where my embarrassment comes from, because there have been times when I have felt a certain glee in being able to do so, to express my own brassed off-ness, and be aware of the ambiguity and the fact that it is the name of a vegan food stuff.  People use those kinds of ambiguities all the time, as I have said elsewhere on this blog.  That is why, in serious situations where I feel people could use their power to hurt me, I tend not to trust them unless they state their wants and intentions in a legally recognisable and accountable way.  Sometimes there is too much at stake (no pun intended but immediately recognised) not to insist on that.

OK I’ll stop there.  I seem to have come to a standstill and I don’t think there is anything else I wanted to say in this post.

God Hates Fags

So do I, ask my sister.

Dr Gallo, my Spanish psychiatrist, who called me obese in one of his reports, came towards me in the corridor once, and he absolutely stank of them.  I suppose I must have given him a questioning, intelligent, ‘oh really’ kind of look, because he looked a bit sheepish and uncomfortable.

I was thinking something along the lines of, ‘smoking kills, I don’t smoke, and I’m a nut, he smokes, and he is my psychiatrist.  He knows smoking kills, so he is addicted or in denial, or at least dishonest, because he goes out for a crafty one and looks sheepish when caught by one of his patients, or inmates’.  My actual thoughts were, ‘oh, he smokes’.  It was a bit of an enlightenment, an ‘aha’ moment.  I suppose I might have gone into my Christian prayer ministry and revelation mode.  But for me the logic behind my thoughts and feelings, as a psychiatric patient, is as previously stated.

It is my opinion that someone that insensitive, to write in a woman’s psychiatric tribunal report that she is obese, almost as though he were a vet rather than a doctor, and who smokes himself, ought not to be dealing with people on the mind level.

No, I didn’t mean homosexuals.  Not honest homosexuals.  I did that myself for two years.  I’m not sure how honest I was, maybe I rationalised my activity with the rationalisations I had been given by society and psychology until in the end it felt irrevocable and unchangeable.  Along the way of coming to terms with it I answered my own questions and my partner’s questions and probings with my own rationalisations drawn from society’s logic and permissiveness.  Of course, homosexuality used to be a reason to be detained under the mental health act, I think, or it was at least viewed as a mental illness.  But now it is a crime to show yourself ‘homophobic’.  I said that to the psychiatric staff on my ward.  I was sort of stonewalled.  Or patronised.  No one was interested in changing anything they were doing to me after I said it, anyway.

I was thinking about homophobia the other day, and wondering if there is such a word or crime as ‘Christianophobia’.  In the interests of balance I think possibly there should be.  Maybe ‘Religiophobia’ as well.  I have indulged, in myself, a homosexual relationship, though not a complete lifestyle, and I believed it was wrong beforehand and believe it was wrong now, afterwards.  And I am a Christian who believes the Bible says it is wrong and that therefore it is.  Unfortunately you can’t catch me with the shellfish argument, because I am also a vegan for moral and spiritual reasons.  Therefore I would not wear animal fibres either, mixed or otherwise.  So OK, I used to have a lesbian relationship, and now I am saying it is wrong, and that Biblical Christianity says it is wrong, which I believe.  Where does that put me as an individual on the crime scale, in relation to this issue? (By the way, I think Islam and the Quran also say it is wrong).  Not only the crime scale, but what are my own human rights on this, in terms of owning my own experience and my beliefs about it, including moral, spiritual and religious?  Can I be penalised for religiously aggravated homophobia against myself?  Do I have to limit myself in how I talk about my own life and beliefs about it?

The politicisation of ideas of right and wrong, illness and wellness.  Mental illness really is a political concept, isn’t it? Part of the irony, for me, is that an awful lot of force and assault, not to say violence, is used against some very non-violent people to make sure they take their ‘medication’.  By these people who say we are a danger to ourselves or others otherwise.  I do feel sick thinking about it.  Sick with violence and rage, the retaliatory kind.  That is a normal feeling.  I’m not acting it out.  There would be no point.  Their force and violence would be greater.

So the force and violence of a recognised professional body against an individual is OK and justified, but if that person, before not violent or physically forceful, wants to retaliate, even says they feel they want to, it isn’t?  It’s a threat to society?  But these professionals are not?

God hates fags – an interesting forage and forray.

Variation On A Theme.

I adapted one of Nigel Slater’s simple meal ideas tonight, and it worked perfectly.

One of his ideas is to have pasta and peas, tossed in olive oil and garlic, I think, but I’m not sure about that bit.

I did pasta and peas with black olive tapenade.  Beautiful, with ground black pepper and a glass of white wine.

Really quick, really simple, really beautiful and spot on and delicious and I couldn’t have been better pleased with a meal which had taken a lot of preparation.

I first came across him when I bought one of his books, ‘Real Fast Food’, and I was attracted by the idea of speed and simplicity with delicious substantiality and unpretentiousness.

I can’t remember if I had ever been there before, with anything in a different class from beans on toast.  His book gave me the ideas, and the vision, and the enthusiasm, and the confidence and permission.

Another one I like of his is green lentils boiled with a bay leaf and topped with butter (sunflower margarine now, which to me is just as good) and black pepper (or is that my addition?)

I love his style anyway.  Really, really fantastic.

So, Nigel, many thanks for the introduction to simple and delicious good cooking.  It is a pure delight.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00zmc6f/The_King_James_Bible_The_Book_That_Changed_the_World/

Available until 9pm (8.59) tonight for watching or download.

I’m opening a new file – the VW FILE – Vulnerable Women Fall In Love Easily.

In this case the name came before the acronym.  Good though, innit?  On so many levels it would be a really long post if I wrote the explanation that suggests itself.

I am being psychologically attacked from every side.  Every time I do something different in my apartment, the woman upstairs shouts and they bang.  The whole situation, including with the media, is literally taking my oxygen and I can’t breathe and my chest hurts and I can’t cope.

On top of that, today I am watching Nik Gowing on ‘The Hub’ on BBC World News, and just as I began to get my breath, at exactly the moment, he banged on his desk.  He does this a lot, but until this incident I hadn’t seen him do it today.  His body language is very violent, so is his speech, and I believe it is deliberate, and has been as long as I have been aware of him, which is several months.  They all do it, Peter Dobby is at it now, and they have a laugh in their voices as they do it.

You don’t have to take my word for it.  If you don’t already watch them, I suggest you should start and see for yourselves.  Not just today, but consistently.  I hope you will.  It might help me if they know other people are watching this with intelligence and awareness.  I can’t take it.  I shouldn’t have to.  It’s deliberate, it’s evil, it’s mockery, and now they are coming on so jovial and stuff, you just want to hit them, don’t you?  Yes you do, it’s natural.  You don’t do it, either because you can’t or because you have self-control.  But you want to.  Because they are so violent and evil.

I want them dead.  They are playing the ‘bait and switch’ game.  I want them dead.  That’s how they want me to feel.  And they want me to say it, as I have, and they want my readers to think it is me that is dangerous, because I have a mental health diagnosis. At the very least they use that fear to keep me under control.

I’m afraid.  They are really hurting me.  I’m sure that is what they want.  They are having a laugh, and I can’t breathe and my chest hurts.

When I first started typing this, Nik Gowing’s voice took on a note of appeal.  It’s gone now.  I wonder if he was aware that I was typing this post?  Past experience tells me he probably was, and I hope he continues to expose himself, because he is really thuggish and evil.

 Edit note 6.07 pm UK time:

Someone said a little while ago to keep up with the dissonances.  I know it is deliberate.  The apparent stuttering is also deliberate.  Notice what the mistaken and half-finished words are, when it happens.

Tanya Beckett was on not long ago, doing the cat act, which has also been agreed.  She looks a lot like Jeni Barnett who is now on BBC Radio London and used to be on LBC 97.3 FM.  I’m sure Ms Beckett must know that.  On LBC they also have, or used to have, other people named the same as me and my neighbours in London.

But just before I started this note Peter Dobby said ‘are’ the same way as they did on ‘Strictly Come Dancing’, with the same emphasis and hesitation, and in the same way that Tommy Boyd used to say it on his programme when he said, ‘I can make you say ‘ah’, and he was talking about an energy point or Chakra point or something like that, just below the navel.  He (Peter Dobby) followed it up with, ‘no more protests’, as if he was giving an instruction or a rebuke, looking intently and almost querulously at the camera as if he is looking for someone and knowing, I believe, that what he has said is something associated with Tommy Boyd, and I believe he knows it is true for me.  He then said the name ‘Christian’ almost as if he was spitting it out in hatred and disdain.

As I started the last paragraph he said a different sentence with the same emphasised pause, then he immediately went into a rushing river of words. They do this a lot as well, and I believe deliberately, and because I know that I find it more dislocating than other people might, but they probably experience the same thing to a lesser degree.  I think they are affecting the charismatic/pentecostal activity of speaking in tongues, it’s a deliberate imitation.

They are also mixing my stuff together with sentences they insist on like, ‘the police have been told to go in and to use force’, and it’s making me think that that instruction has been given concerning me, because I have said in this blog, even today, that that has happened to me before.  It is completely covert to people who do not know, and they keep a poker face throughout.  It is very, very unkind and savage.  It is partly why I am having so many painful stress symptoms, apart from the harassment or at the very least insensitivity to other people’s privacy that I’m getting from my neighbours.  I’m obviously afraid – as you can see, I am feeling obliged to compromise my communication of what I believe I know.  It’s psycholinguistic torture – brainwashing and control, if you like.  I’m frightened.  If the Bulgarian police do come, I hope they are sympathetic and will help me on my terms.  I hope they haven’t been told to come in and use force.  I haven’t checked my email over the last few hours, but the last time I looked I still hadn’t had any answers to the emails I sent to the British Embassy and my housing association, which they asked me for.  They deliberately, I am sure, do everything they can to sound as if they are vomiting and gagging up, apart from everything else, and it is savage and insulting and deliberately provocative.  They put their faces up at the cameras and their whole attitude is saying, ‘what are you going to do about it?’  They follow one pattern of speech for about 10 seconds, then switch to another completely opposite.  They are the world’s rubbish and shouldn’t have any hand in the news or location work where there is unrest.  I can’t stop them, I wish I could.  I know it’s deliberate and so do others.  And people like Premier Radio make it worse, because they retaliate, that was what got me in the first place, taking their retaliation to the secular media onto myself and thinking it was aimed at me.  Was it?  I’m not sure.  But the secular media still has no excuse.

I’ve wondered about the way they are saying ‘Bahrain’, with the glottal stop.  Because David Cameron let fly at Ed Miliband with a glottal stop in Prime Minister’s Question Time yesterday, and I’m thinking it might have been connected.   Ed replied or retaliated with, ‘the man (or the one) who made the tree’ and the tone was religious.  This happens a lot.  I heard a female MP during their broadcast recently say that this government doesn’t talk straight, it talks in code.  That wasn’t me, that was an MP.  But I believe she is right.

I think media people vocally affect pain as well, and so do people in Parliament.  To victims of their stalking who have real and legitimate pain, this is very offensive and provocative.  The croaky, cracking voices and everything.  It’s almost as if they feel it momentarily and deliberately seek to express it vocally because they like the fact that they feel it, it’s a feeling to be proud of.  It hurts me so much because I have been taken in by it for so long, and I think that gives them pleasure to know I understand that and they want to increase the pain I feel.  Their rushing, aggressive speech – OMG.  I really believe they are deliberately trying to make violent, harsh and coarse speech and speech patterns the acceptable thing.  Unless, as I said, I’m just privileged to have heard people like Michael Mish.  But I don’t think it is just that.  They also play with early cut-offs.  I’ve just remembered that because they have just played an advert that does exactly that, and I’ve noticed it before, it always cuts off early.  Cats are never cut off, any hint of refinement and culture is, if it seems genuine.  They go soft and intimate then immediately go into almost yelling things like ‘very disturbing’, like the sports reporter just did (6.50 pm UK time).  It’s psychological terrorism.  And it’s deliberate and criminal, whether it is the media, the politicians or the church.  It seems like a deliberately affected, constant ebb and flow of tone and content.  It’s a wall of words, and is intended to be a wall, and impenetrable.

They have been talking for a while, with a tone of significance, hesitation and almost derisive humour, about objects controlled by thought as well.  I repeat, all of this I am writing today are just a very few examples of what they do constantly.

Zeinab Bedawi is the same.  In fact, I might as well stop naming people (which is easy now I have swtiched off their provocation).  Zeinab Bedawi is the person on now, but they all do it.  I don’t think it is just tiredness and the pressure of the job, I think it is a deliberate stream of anger, hatred, contempt and defiance, even when it seems humorous, and the hope and assumption seems to be that if they all do it no one can challenge them.  For some of them at least it thinly veils fear.

Greg Dyke, the old director of the BBC until 2007, was on Newsnight last night.  In view of my last few posts, at least, please check out his embarrassed and guilty body language.

I get embarrassed about the time I waste or have stolen from me trying to deal with this, because the defiance continues and I think they love it.

But in some ways the worst thing is the Bulgarians.  For 14 months now, when I speak, every time my voice starts to become strong they start imposing their own voices.  Even in this block, it’s like a deliberate vocal struggle.  Apart from the man next door who banged sharply on my wall after only my 2nd day here, that’s what started it.  They yell first thing in the morning, and yell again in intimidating anger last thing at night, and comment at every sound they hear from my apartment, apart from which they are silent most of the time.  Do I yell back?  Yes, of course I do, I’m human and I get desperate, especially when it is so invasive.  That is when they descend into absolute silence, unless strength comes into my voice and then they ride it.  I wasn’t here under official communism, I still wonder if it was one of the torture techniques used.  Or if it is plain, gross stupidity and idiocy.

People like Colin Dye at Kensington Temple I detest, because he takes things like this and throws it back at me, with all the cut throat trickery he knows from his media experience.

I can’t stand it.  It’s like keep going at her until she shouts, then go silent unless you hear ‘that voice’, then ride it.  I feel really sick and I think they are going to try and arrest me under the mental health act.

Someone came this afternoon.  I didn’t answer the door, I was afraid.  I was typing as well.  I wasn’t expecting anyone, so I wasn’t legally obliged to answer the door.  They rang once and went away.  I was convinced it was the police.  Then I realised that I really didn’t have any idea who it was.  And if it had been someone who only spoke Bulgarian, whoever they were, and they were angry and forceful. . .   Most people would say that as a single woman in a situation like this it was probably best not to answer the door.  As it is I’m frightened that one of my neighbours will come out one day and hurt me.  But at the very least I am constantly embarrassed, and I was in pain as well.

I still believe everything I have said in the rest of this post.  And my chest still hurts.  And so does my stomach.  And I feel sick and afraid.  I know what I have had to deal with in the past, at least with my housing association.  Maybe also with the British Embassy.  I’m physically sick with the stress.  I’m not mentally ill.  Stress is not a mental illness, especially when dealing with something like this.

I went to Billa two days ago.  One of the workers there, a blonde man, came up and positioned himself beside me and started talking and yelling aggressively.  When I tried to complain to someone who was called who spoke English, and my voice developed strength and direction, the man started to shout over me again.  Not at me, but over me, as if he was calling out against me.  I’ve had that numerous times here.  There appears to be no point trying to challenge it.  I don’t think anyone wants to listen.  I think they would rather lock me away and make me take drugs for schizophrenia, than deal with other people’s behaviour towards me.  I’m frightened and I feel dishonest.  People, including my politicians, have postured as trying to help me, subliminally, and now I think they are turning the tables on me.  But because it has been coded and subliminal I can’t prove anything.  I almost feel as if this time I’m going to die or really lose my mind or something.  That something is going to be done to me which will destroy me.  I can’t do hospital, the nurses shout and hammer on doors, and I’m a vegan, and my stomach hurts.  I’m terrified and feel like passing out.  If they come at me with drugs, after all this, I swear I’ll go mad.  God help me, don’t let them hurt me.  Not anymore, please.  You are my only help.  If someone comes at me without You, they come at me with no ability to help.

One of the nurses on the ward, Simon, if he started getting tearful and upset, he would make a big, loud and inaccessible joke of it and talk about ‘filling up’, instead of stopping to examine his feelings and why he was feeling them.  I asked him about it once.  He fobbed it off, communicated something to the others then a little while later deliberately reimposed it in his conversation.  I’m scared to go back to that.  I feel as if my back is breaking.  Please don’t anyone make me go back to that.  And they don’t even cater for a vegan diet, at all.  But if they decide that’s what they want to do to me, they won’t care about that and will treat me as a nuisance.  I saw it with someone else.  They mocked her for what she called her ‘food allergies’, she had to buy food for herself, and if she felt ill and in pain, which was often, they bullied her, constantly and unashamedly complaining about her and telling her off.

At one point I seemed to be getting on well and normally with people on the ward, including one older lady, and Simon said quite openly, ‘we’ve got to get it back’, but he wasn’t talking to us, just for us, or me, to hear, so it seemed.  One day he did what I had never seen him do, he came and sat silently in the day room, where there was just me and this woman.  He sat at the table at the other end, apparently reading a newspaper, and he didn’t say hello or anything, and he sat there for ages, apparently listening to the conversation, but never contributing to it or doing or saying anything to be polite and acknowledge us.  I found it intimidating and upsetting and offensive, and when our relationship broke down he didn’t do it anymore.  He did it a couple of times at least.  His presence was so imposing without him acknowledging us or what he was doing that it made the conversation strained.

I once wanted some music on in the day room, I didn’t normally because it was Christian and I didn’t want to impose it on everyone else.  But I didn’t have my CD player, it had been taken for ‘electrical checking’ which was normal procedure, so I decided that, since everyone else played their music in there, I could play mine as well.  The girl with the food allergies came in and said she wanted to play something else, and when I said I wanted to listen to mine she found fault with it and said it wasn’t even good quality Christian music (that it could at least have been good Gospel music, but it was Vineyard style, or Noel Richards, which is not so loud in style, it’s in many ways more laid back and less ‘in your face’ and aggressive) and she started finding fault with Christianity and shouting and arguing.  A few minutes later she said to Simon that I was a control freak.  Simon said ‘tell me about it!’  I had never played my music in the day room until then, and she just wanted me to take it off.  But I didn’t see why I should have to.  It might have been a kind thing to do, or not, but I didn’t want to have to back down all the time and there was nowhere else I could play it.

What I am saying is, I don’t want to go back to that, and to the staff engaging in that kind of prejudice against me.  And as a vegan (which just means ‘strict vegetarian’, no animal products, there are plenty of other excellent options) I don’t want to be locked up in a hospital with no way to get what I need, which I would have to buy myself because they don’t cater for the diet, and it wouldn’t be cooked in meal form, because the cooker that used to be there was taken away for security reasons and they won’t do it for you.  That is no existence for someone you insist is ill and needs to be treated on your terms and not their own.

Yes, I over-react to things sometimes.  Yes, I make a mountain out of a molehill sometimes.  But not always.  And anyone else having to deal with the same pressures and treatment from officials they are dependent on might do exactly the same thing.  We are like animals under observation and naughty children to be dealt with accordingly, and behind those doors, particularly, they are very open about that and make no effort to hide their attitudes towards us.  That includes the psychiatrists themselves.  They will glower and tease and contradict, and if I became hysterically angry one of them would get angry at me for shouting and say he was going to have me arrested.

I know there are people in the media who will love using this against me.  That’s why my communication is messed up.  Basically no one acknowledges anything I say until I am pushed into crisis, then they descend on me in force and lock me up.  Not only what I say on this blog, but what I say in emails as well, even ones they have asked me for.  While I know that other people acknowledge what is happening and recognise it, as soon as I feel I have reason to be afraid I am going to get a police visit under the mental health act I forget all that and feel very isolated and afraid.  Suddenly my anger and certainty means nothing, because they can just invalidate it in the taking of my freedom.  They present later as not having wanted to do that and having needed to do it for my own safety (or that of others) so it makes me feel my anger and certainty are the problem.  The authorities certainly give the impression that they think so.  They call it paranoia.

People like to make a big thing out of saying you shouldn’t call people evil.  I don’t know if it hurts their feelings or not, but if it does that is all it does.  If they call people psychotic and dangerous, without proof and having got their facts wrong (but if we say so they call us liars and devious), the consequences for us are far worse.  So if we give it back, even believing it is true but embarrassed because we can just as easily, a few hours later, decide it isn’t true – if they can do what they do and we, I, do what I do, why should I be penalised for it, when no one really cares or acts on what I say anyway, while they can call me dangerous and psychotic and take away my freedom and abuse me behind closed doors?  If that is going to happen again, it isn’t right and it never has been.

I don’t want to go back to a situation where I am bullied and neglected by a social landlord when I’m also getting it from the community.  It freezes my thinking.  At least here, if I believed I was safe from these people in the UK, I could think a little bit.  Although I vent on here, my emotions and the pain in my mind are nowhere near as great as they are in London.  Maybe that is why I feel more physical pain.

If it was the police earlier, I still don’t know what they wanted and who sent them.  They might not have come to arrest me under the mental health act, and all of this fear and trauma might be unnecessary.  It has been caused by lack of appropriate official communication.  But maybe they think it is appropriate to keep me in the dark if they intend to arrest me, and just keep turning up and one day force entry.  Maybe they are afraid I will abscond and they want to keep the upper hand and the element of surprise and uncertainty.  That’s what they normally do.  No one is talking to me, just banging and shouting and commenting, and officially I don’t know what is happening.  I have been handled this way for years, and it contributes to the anger I bring to everything else.  I’m constantly nervous and afraid, and I bottle it up for so long until I’ve had enough and vent in anger.  People around me do it at me.  I shouldn’t be singled out as the problem.

My fear of police violence here is offset by my own shame that I am not able to understand their language and culture.  As always, I think all of this is my responsibility.  However bad people are to me, I think it is my fault for not understanding.  I feel that way with everyone.  And I think that if only I would acknowledge my own wrong doing then everything would be all right for me and none of this would happen.  That if I would recognise their official responsibilities and cut them some slack things would go better for me.  But I’ve tried that and been ignored, repeatedly, and now it feels as if they are saying, ‘just this one step further’ and I feel guilty, and at the same time I have been accused of things I have never done.  They have the ability to make me feel guilty for what I feel is my lack of response.  They lift things off my computer.  I really believe that.

Someone on The Daily Politics or Newsnight yesterday said that the Coalition is doing things with indecent haste, and I have heard people say that about them before.  In this case the man said that what should normally take 6 months is being passed in 11 weeks.  He put it down to the deficit crisis. But at the same time he called it ‘indecent haste’.  I wonder what the shortcuts and evasions are that are involved in such a truncation.  Indecent haste.  I’ve had that for years.  I do believe media people’s speech is deliberately aggressive and that that is why I am having trouble communicating.  The aggression is behind the hospital doors as well.  If I’m supposed to be ill I don’t want to be there, I want some peace and quiet and space to think, not drugs forced on me by people who do nothing to hide their fear and contempt, when all is said and done, and even before all is said and done.  Someone please listen to me and honour that.

I’ve just updated this, it is 5.15 am on Friday morning.  As soon as I pressed the update button there was a bang from upstairs, like a chair clattering or something.  At this time in the morning that might be reasonable. But it is the constant coincidence of this kind of thing, given everything else, which really terrifies me and freaks me out.  The psychiatrists call it ‘auditory hallucinations’.  I think they used to call it that as well when they would see me weighing up in my mind what I was experiencing and hearing with them compared with what I heard in church and read in the Bible.  Especially if the difference, and thinking the church was involved in what was happening to me, freaked me out, they would say that I seemed to be responding to ‘auditory hallucinations’.  I think on the whole I have to become more secure and smile when I feel afraid, instead of giving in to the fear.  I’m sure it would make life much easier, at least while I don’t have the TV or radio on.

Dear Clyde Sandry

You can go off people, you know!

I’ve just listened to most of your sermon this Sunday, and you are using words you have somehow got from my recent communications with other people and off the back of them you are shouting at me.  “Dearth”, for instance, is one of those words, which I used in an email to someone whose spirituality would be abhorrent to you.

If I had really understood before what I believe I understand now, I could have resisted you awful, monstrous impressions of Christians years ago.

You are using my love against me, and are trying to force me for some reason to take a path, even though you have used the law against me, that does not resolve my situation through the proper application of the law which has become necessary through your own actions with regard to me.

David Shearman, since my mid teens, has treated me as a thing loathed and despised.  I knew no better than to keep trying to win his love and approval, hoping one day I would be impressive enough for him.  I used to think, at least 90%, that if I came to church driving a nice car and looking in control of my life, I might have a bit of a chance of something.

If these people have somehow been persuaded to pass my emails on to you and to treat me as you have historically treated me yourselves, then all of you, normally having no time for each other’s spirituality, have come together to force/control/exclude/invalidate me, and that, if it is true in any detail, is disgusting of all of you.

You know how much I long for a kind and loving touch.  You must do, you seem to have access to my communications.  I want to tell you, in your 1950’s attire and mimicking what you have heard of me on the phone in years gone by before you even start to speak (William Lee does the same thing), you are monstrous dogs and I hope I somehow manage to recover what is left of my life and to live without you.

You are complete moral cowards.  You throw reminders of my childhood at me that you seem to have gathered from my family somehow (how did you persuade them?), all the time knowing I just want to be contacted and spoken to normally and told what you want, but you either will not or dare not take that route, and keep piling the pressure on me until my health and confidence are breaking down.

Although I feel inclined to beg, given the material you have been using, I wish to completely disassociate myself from all the methods you are using to put pressure on me and force a response.  I can’t see why you need to hide in this way.

My only access to you is through legal means.  Yours is riddled with illegality.

If David Shearman’s sermon last Sunday was preached last Sunday, why does he say in it that he has been speaking to his father, who died two years ago?

I can’t fight you, you are too strong for me, both in number and in your ability to use years of love, hope and pain against me, in your apparent ability to persuade people to help you and believe they are being helped by you in putting me under your illegal authority (unless you are getting everything from hacking my computer), and in your stupid, bullish bullying.  If this is how you treat vulnerable and legally disenfranchised people when you are desperate (and it is, I know from past experience), I don’t want anything to do with you ever again, I want you to take your hands off me and everything to do with me, shut up and tell people what you have been doing to me and the fears you have been playing on.

You are gross and I hate you.  I don’t care who is impressed with you, I have been up close since my teens and I know better.   I want you to leave me alone and I want nothing else to do with you.  You are perverse in your harassment, and dishonest.  If you want me to change my mind on that then you have a bit of repenting and apologising to do, to me, with other people’s knowledge.

Although inwardly I am crying, and afraid to take such a stand towards people who have claimed to represent Jesus to me for so long and have claimed a right to acknowledgment of that fact, I will not change my mind and I will not come to you, crying or otherwise.  You are being deliberately provocative because you are too proud to be honest about your sin to a much younger woman that you have harmed.

All on my own, with my own squeaky little mouse voice, knowing how much you can still hurt and rape and provoke, deliberately, if I continue to listen to you (in the sense of hear your words over the internet), I say something I am not supposed to say and something which is completely against my nature to say to you, and that is, “go to hell, all of you”.  Your words are a complete molestation, posturing as intimate and discrete, there is nothing discrete about them, they are plain, criminal cowardice.  I hate what you are doing, you are making me ill.

If you want my help you can ask for it, otherwise I will never go back on anything I have said here, and if I do, I will be wrong.

My best Dastardly and Mutley impression – “stonking, ranting, shnazzershnacking” “Hee, hee, hee” 😀

The Bible says we are made in the image of God.  God is 3 in 1.  No one has the right to point to you and tell people you are lonely.  Do not let anyone demean you by calling you lonely, neither let those who have no right challenge your right to live and exult in  freedom of movement when you finally find the courage to try to do so apart from their control.

I’ve been taught that, even before God created anything, He existed in community as the 3 in 1.  When God was all there was, He was friends with every part of Himself.  God was His first lover and worshiper.  We are designed to follow that pattern. 

Even if we don’t believe that the story of creation teaches that each human being embodies the male/female principle,  God the 3 in 1, just like we should, had friendship and community before anyone else was around.  That’s what they told me. 

Now then, Colin Dye, you nasty, stalking, baby-snatching dingo, go and make someone else eat your shit and stop stalking/trying to control/sabotaging me and my right to my life apart from your divine majesty (ahem, sorry, little aberration).  Your jurisdiction over me ended (if you ever had a right to it in the first place) when I left your building, on your orders and your staff’s orders.  Your insistence on continued involvement and the way you are achieving it are illegal, and the way you deflect proper accusations of acting in a cultlike manner is fiendish and sinister.  I have never had to face anything so demonic, knowingly, as I am doing with you and your staff and those who support you, ever in my life.

The only way anyone ever becomes lonely is to rely too much on relationships outside of themselves and God or to be forced into feelings of dependency through abuse of power. 

The Bible says Jesus was driven into the wilderness by the Spirit after His baptism and came out full of power.  It says Abraham was told to leave his father’s house and go to a land that God would show him.  He disobeyed.  He took Lot (I’ve been taught that was disobedience).  The book of Hebrews says Christians are a pilgrim people without a home, and that there were those who lived in caves, of whom the world was not worthy.  Perhaps Colin would like to call them amoebae?  Why would he have done that?  Where did he get it from, whatever his intention?

Sometimes God wants people alone or to move out on their own.  I wonder what Colin would have said to or about Abraham, or about Jesus, indeed, if he had at any time been affiliated with them (obviously he never has been, it’s just hypothetical).

Edit note:  Oops, sorry, this was supposed to be a draft.  It is obviously unfinished and in very crude form.  But now it’s out there I had better leave it.  Sorry, it was an accident.  The Lord knows.  Sorry, brother Colin.  May the Lord bless your ministry and all who minister with you.  Amen and amen. I bless you in the name of the Lord. +Sue 🙂

As HP spicy sauce in Bulgarian supermarkets.

I was wrong!!!!!      Yayaah!!!!!  Da-dah!!!!!!

Dumb gone found it today.  Now I have to make the burgers and rashers and sausages to go with it.  I could have it just with beans on toast, or mushrooms on toast.  Not sure what else.  Craving a boiled egg earlier.  Found loads of stuff I never knew existed when I first started by just putting the name of the food in a search engine together with the word ‘vegan’.  My 2 favourite finds vegan blue cheese (sheese) and others in the same range, and vegan honey (agave nectar).

I say that, but some of the burgers you can get are nice as well, but these were my first two serious wants.  Redwoods burgers are really nice.  Just like the old hamburger.  You can get others which are nice in their own right but nothing like a meat eater is used to.  Also wheat slices which are just like cold sliced smoked meat.  Yum yum.  Theres a place near Piccadilly Circus that does a great range.  Whole food market or something like that.  I’ve forgotten, it’s so long since I’ve been there (it WOULD be, I’ve been out of the country for over a year).  They’ve got a nice cafe there as well.  All organic, all diets, from meat and fish to vegetarian and vegan.  Great place to shop, I really love it.  You can make your own muesli or oat cluster type breakfasts if you aren’t as lazy as me, or you can get some nice vegan Belgian Chocolate cereal, and maple syrup and pecan, I think it is.  I can’t remember the name of the manufacturer now.  But it’s really delicious.  It is a good place to shop for something out of the ordinary, really different from the ubiquitous high street supermarket.

Even then, if enough people discover these things and ask for them, the supermarkets, so I am told (oh yeah?) will stock them.  Don’t know how that works.  It might work out more expensive for smaller orders.  When I first heard of agave nectar (agave is a plant and the nectar is just like runny honey and you can get it in a few different varieties, and there’s also something called Sweet Freedom which is plant based, slightly thicker and comes mild or rich) I never expected that I would be able to find it in Sainsbury’s, but they stock it.  The agave nectar, that is.

OK, change the subject, how stupid do I want to be?  I’m 50 years old, for goodness’ sake, but I might be about to sound like a teenager with a crush.  There is a really debonair photograph of Tommy Boyd on his blog, with a piercing stare and a smile, arms folded.  I’ve had a bad day today in many respects.  I’m exhausted.  I’m lying on my sofa, it’s now (this second) 2.25 am.

I just scrolled down and rediscovered it, and looked at his face, and smiled, and the next second I was gone.  Just like that.  Out like a light.  Not asleep, but ‘zapped’, as they would have said at St B’s.  Apart from the fact that it hurts because I don’t know where we are with each other, I feel a lot better already.  Ready for a good sleep.

My uncle says Christmas is the same as any other day.  When things aren’t as you would like them to be, this is a perspective you need to keep hold of. Because of my church and family background, I believe Christmas is special.  I feel as if I am betraying myself and Christmas by writing this.  That if I made the right approaches to the right people, my Christmas could be redeemed.  But even if that were to happen once, this year, there are other Christmasses to come where I might not be so fortunate.  So the point is, you always need to make your own decisions and not run round looking for rescue remedies, even at Christmas.  The celebration of Christmas is an exterior thing.  But I still wish I was doing it and had done it in the past, and I still want my friends and family, and still feel ashamed that I haven’t invested in them and that, consequently, I will never know and experience, and neither will they, the kind of relationships we might have had.  Blah, blah, blah, whatever, whatever.  They threw my mother at me yesterday.  These media rapists.

This is a crisis time for many people, including people ‘with mental health problems’.  A lot of suicides occur at this time of year.

That isn’t because of the time of year.  It’s because of the way it is sold to us and the expectations and ideals we are taught to have of it.  It’s the way it is marketed by people who want to make money out of it and those who help them to advertise. Some people’s minds have already been so raped that it’s more than they can cope with, so they go into crisis, or commit suicide.  I think staying away from the television and radio might be the best thing for most of us at this time of year.  Truth and reality are within us, not on the tv and radio.  They are selling an illusion and a lie, and most of them know it.  It’s all about materialism and trade.  Hear me, please – that is ALL it is.

I just watched some Bulgarian television.

Within a few minutes they said something about Stara Zagora and pissed.  Just right for anglichanka ears.

I experience speech like music these days.  Especially if I don’t understand the language.  It’s quite nice and relaxing.  And if they pull a trick like that, it backfires on them, because I am not distracted by what comes afterwards, out of their mouths, because I can’t understand it anyway and it can’t dazzle or influence me.  So I can continue to watch and think my own thoughts and make my own observations, mistaken or otherwise.

Here are some thoughts and observations from this morning, mistaken or otherwise:

It was a live breakfast programme, a bit like the ones we have in the UK.  The setting is like an expensive city house.  There was a cookery slot.  The fare was economical.

My thought was that they are trying to tell Bulgarians that they are poor, when actually they are rich, in everything that matters, as long as they don’t develop a serious case of built up city-itis.  In this programme it looked a lot like the city-house surroundings were the important thing (and the unrealisable  aspiration of many, as it has been in Western Europe), and meagre fare was a price you had to pay to reach that ideal.  Or maybe villagers aren’t the target audience anyway, in which case I’m a poisonous cow.  No sorry, forget that, there is an ideal and a philosophy being pushed here, whatever the target audience is.  It is designed to be influential.  Otherwise why bother?

There is no security in this, only a continual grasping.

While people have land, they are rich beyond compare.  The people they call poor here, they are the ones who really are rich, and that is not a statement I am making for sentimental appeal.

The people they call poor, the village people, most of them have their own land around their houses.  That is wealth.   We hear about the landed gentry (or used to, have we moved on?)  But what about the landed poor?  The landed poor are richer, in real terms, than the housed rich.  They can grow what they like.  For meat eaters (which I am not) they can rear what they like.  They need never be hungry.  If those with more give to those with less, it evens out.  And also people can exchange things with each other, both goods and services, without money, and without price.  That endures when economies crash.

Without the language I’m a bit ignorant.  I don’t really know what ideology people are trying to sell and push for.

I know I’ve been in many hotels here which appear to have more staff than guests.  The Bible talks about ‘to-ing and fro-ing across the earth’.  Someone has sold us the lie that peace and contentment and security and being settled and established are boring.

I’m going to buy a house here, unless someone decides to stop me.  It’s going to be in a village.  It’s going to have land.  The wherewithal to create my own wealth.  I hope that, in the future, this country does not start bulldozing villages to make way for cities.  The villages are the foundation.  Good, real, organic life is in the villages.  Life, farming, community, shared skills and the opportunities to learn.  Kill the villages, get the youth of the villages wanting something else and despising what they have there so they want to move out, get the older people with life experience undervaluing themselves and their history and what they have to pass on, dismantle these communities, self-perpetuating, self-sustaining, with real wherewithal, make the economy dependent on something else, a selling idea, more manufacturing-based, more handing over money based, and it will eventually be disastrous for the economy.  Just as it has been for the west.

Back to the land.  It’s good.  It’s progressive, not regressive.  It’s not compensatory, it’s the healthy reality we should never have abandoned.  Test all things.  Hold fast to that which is good. 

The failure of a bad and illusory idea is not the failure of humanity.  It is not a shame for people to abandon a lie and embrace the truth.  That’s what the Bible calls repentance. The lie is ‘you can’t stop progress, you can’t turn back the clock’.  

Whether the lie is working for them materially or not, if it’s a lie, and it is working for them, materially is the only way it DOES work for them.  For the ones at the top, they are envied and despised and a cause of false shame to many who are struggling.  Maybe we can’t blame them, if they are working as honestly as they know how.  It’s what they have been sold too.

I heard a programme on Radio 4 this week, ‘In Our Time’, by Melvyn Bragg.  They were discussing the Industrial Revolution.  I hardly went to school in my teens, so if ideas were discussed (I don’t remember hearing them being discussed out of class time) it’s not something I would have felt able to be part of.  But I can remember standing in a dinner queue one day feeling really upset and isolated, because I was standing there believing with absolute conviction that the Industrial Revolution had been a bad thing, and I really wanted other people to see that and to be able to do something about it, but I thought I might be a bit of an oddity, and I didn’t know how to talk about it anyway, even if I thought there might be people who might agree with me.  I think I felt overwhelmed with differentness.

The fact is, I’m 50 now.  Most of my life is past, unless I live to be over 100.  That is a real grief to me.  What could have been and what could have been achieved?  My past feels like a blank, and my future unrealisable.  I already feel as if it is all over.  What could have been achieved should have been achieved by now.  Maybe I’m just being ageist against myself.

Edit note 10.36 am Bulgarian time.

I was apalled when I re-read this post at my own self-centredness and self-consciousness.  I was thinking about this last night, how people tell you you are self-centred or too self-consciousness, as if it is an accusation and they are pointing out a failing.  I was also thinking maybe they don’t mean it to come across that way, maybe they mean to teach.  I thought that if you want to teach with something like that, you need to dislocate the thinking.  I thought that usualy people put the emphasis in the wrong place, they talk about self-centredness instead of self-centredness, and self-consciousness instead of self-consciousness. The part that is stressed should be the part you are questioning.  It’s not the consciousness and the centredness that should be in question, but the focus of the consciousness and centredness.  If the person trying to address this in another emphsised the word ‘self’ in the communication, the other person might start asking, ‘why, what other kind of consciousness and centredness is there?’, and that is a question which enables teaching to take place.

I’m talking about redeeming my Christmas.  What about everyone else’s?

Anyway, I started this edit note because I used a tag today that was new to me, Rape of a Nation.  I looked to see if there was anything else tagged that way, and I found this film.  I feel and believe it is dealing with and showing some of the consequences of thigs I have meanderingly thought about and painfully tried to express out of my own ignorance and stupidity in my post.  So here’s the link.  If it doesn’t show as a link, in my browser you can right click on it and it says ‘go to link’.  My link buttons remain disabled.

It’s a short journalism film about how the diamond trade operates in the Congo.

http://www.mediastorm.com/publication/rape-of-a-nation

 

The one who played a song at me about cock-sucking.  Came out tonight, said ‘God’ loudly, and then did an iron fist/velvet glove act with his friend. 

This psychologically violent and rapacious dog (that’s what a non-Christian might say, I’m not supposed to say it, but a non-Christian could and probably would).  The answer is ‘NO’!!  If you read this and see him you can tell him so, from me.  I’m not sure what he is about, or his friend.  I’m getting frightened to talk about my feelings, because people have started making noises about mental health interventions again.  They always hit me early with that.  Today it was the house of Lords.  They were trying to play self-satisfied, melifluous intellectuals.  I started watching from the beginning, about an hour and a half into it.  Baroness whatever her face started the main business, saying ‘question’ like ‘quistion’.  I find that violent, and it affects the way I hear everything.  But I think they were struggling themselves with my post earlier today, the one about coded communication.  I’m hysterical because of the way the encounter with this guy has left me.  I want to prattle.  What is he/are they expressing?  Ignorant, but eager and innocent hunger, or something else?  It was a bit like a childish game to them. A God game.  Who is He going to speak to?  One plays the hard man and the other the soft.  Between them they take what they want.  My thoughts and feelings and the reactions of my body are my business and my responsibility, but I still left feeling I had been clubbed, people are hooking on to me, and my tongue is tingling.  The God fashion.  Nick someone else’s clothes right off their body if you don’t know how else to do it.  Oh My God!  Why can’t they leave women alone?  And the cocksucking bit.  it might make sense to them, and I think I can see the sense it makes, but it’s still wrong and horribly violent.  Just where do they get it from?  I’ve wondered if that is the way communists dealt with Christians before, as a form of persecution or something.  Knowing neither the language nor the history is not helping me.  I wonder if they are like the Russians, who deny their own bloody history, saying it never happened?  If they are, I’m not going to find out the truth from them.  They had the radio on.  When the headscarf guy laughed and said ‘he’s talking to you’, who was he talking about?  I thought he meant God.  Maybe he meant the man on the radio.  I don’t know, I left trying not to be pawed, and as I did they banged on something (that’s common too).  It’s horrific.  It’s mental rape.  I’m so tired.  I managed to get my shopping today.  This wasn’t how I expected to feel at the end of it.  I had several groups pass me in near silence today, then laugh loudly just as they passed.  That’s what made me start wondering about the communist bit.  Whatever it is to them, to me it feels like hatred.  Maybe I’m just expressing a conscience in trouble.  Maybe it’s witchcraft.  I’m just tired.  I’m too tired to analyse it.  I think writing confuses my feelings more than anything else I do.  Especially when I’m being stalked.  It gives people a hook.  I keep losing my page connection at significant points.  I don’t know if it’s a psychic thing or if I’m getting what they used to call ‘booted’ in the chatrooms I started out on.  That makes most sense to me, but sometimes it happens even when I’m not connected to the internet, also at significant points.  I shouldn’t write like this, it’s trash.  Is it me?  Is it just a personality and a relational problem?  No.  I watched the House of Lords today.  Something was going on.  It might be just me, FOR me, but for other people exactly the same kind of thing is just them?  I will never be able to socialise with most of these people, they are just too weird.  Maybe for ‘weird’ read hungry.  I need to sort my computer out, it keeps crashing after I installed a substandard device.  When I get my head clear, the people who walk past do the weird stuff.  And the cafe is messing with the radio, and playing ‘get God’ games.  I’m writing like this in a desperate attempt to try and recover myself.

Is this place really as evil as I think it is? 96% Christians?  That has to be a lie.  I don’t even know why they would want to be or give that impression, and if they think psychological violence is the way to do it, I wonder who their examples have been.

I picked up my new glasses today.  I hope I can read with them.  They don’t seem as strong as the ones I lost.

Day 2 – the shouting men are here again.  Hence my ‘organised stalking’ tag.

OMG!!!

First published 9th December 2010, after a post on veganism.

Edit:  This is a Sticky Post – Stuck to the front page for future reference.  It didn’t appear in any of the tag categories I selected, I assume because it has too many tags, although plenty of others that HAVE appeared have more than the 10 suggested in WordPress Help.

I brainstormed on the tags.  One reason I have stuck this on the front page, so you can search the categories any time, and so can I.  And what I say in this is relevant much of the time.   If you look at my tags in this you get an idea of how I think and feel about what is happening and how I think it should be perceived, understood and treated.

Spread the word, please, if you are with me.  Maybe if I break up the tags into easier to handle chunks I can get the post into all the categories I want, if I reproduce it or something.

Just listen to the sickly sweetness on Premier right now.  You have an hour.  I wouldn’t mind if it wasn’t criminally fuelled sarcasm, teasing and stalking.  They are not sincere people, even if they sound it.

Listen, you will hear them using my blog.  Even this.

They are taunting people, maybe me, with ‘Ah, you think YOU are always right, do you?’ But whether I am or not, I’m not using criminal means to enforce my opinion.  They are.  These Christians.  If you can’t win and you want to cry, mock and laugh, they say.  These carers for souls and God’s vision for humanity as a whole.  Unfit for purpose.

What’s it like, playing God? Esther says.  You’re asking the wrong person, Esther.  I wouldn’t know.  You would though, if you think He authorises the use of criminality and everything else in my tags to destroy a person.  Croaking and squeaking, most of it is deliberate and to hurt and offend FOR NO GOOD REASON EXCEPT TO WIN FOR YOUR ORGANISATION and you have no right to my sympathy.  I am not you, I am weak, you are abusing your position.

And you keep teasing, making out you’re going to comment or pass an opinion on what I say, but talk about something else.  I can hear the mockery in your voices, past experience of you all helps.

I love it when John Pantry gets hsi knickers in a twist about something being blatant.  If he’s talking about me, he’s projecting.  he is seeing things that were not intended at the time of writing, but I am awfully glad they are there.  But they weren’t intentional, so it is all, for him, a product of his mind, guilty and sneaky as it is.

Thank you for seeming sweet, guys, even if you are not.  We all need our illusions, especially at this time in the morning.  Pity mine don’t hold.

Got it – they are taking the message to their own consciences and forcing them outwards. That’s what this kind of Christianity does, all the time.  Look at the blogs, see how often they talk about they rather than I or we.  They think it is a sign of good authority to stand out in the street complaining loudly or pointing the finger, literally, in someone else’s face, a member of their congregation.  I’ve seen and heard it all, and deliberately recoil from and distance myself from it.  Buzz, buzz.

I’m being censored.  This doesn’t appear in any of my tag categories, 50 minutes on, and the Premier news just had something said with firm sternness about needing medical help.  It’s not new.  Maybe that is why Premier felt able to mock so freely and why it was so effective.  They caught me on my blind side.  I assumed it was going out and being shown in the categories.

Rick Easter, I have no responsibility.  I’ve already tried to meet it many times over, and you continue to taunt and terrorise based on the consequences.  You are angry, degrading people.

THAT Was Ages Ago!

I was just thinking about something I read or heard that, after a couple of years being a vegetarian or vegan, your body loses the ability to process non-vegetarian/vegan food sources.  I felt slightly worried, just in case it really should turn out that you need animal nutrition to be healthy, and what would I do if my body couldn’t even cope with it?

Then I thought of the days when I was fascinated by the fact that Pete Murray was a vegetarian, and wondered how he could possibly do it, and thought it couldn’t be possible, and that it was very interesting, but scary territory, and very much ‘out there’.  It wasn’t something I could ever do. People like me can’t.

I went to Happy Grill the other day, for a cup of coffee.  I decided to look at the menu, and decided that, as a vegan, I was in trouble.  I wanted everything I shouldn’t want.  Not just eggs, but meat and fish.  It felt like the most normal, natural and easy thing to do, just tuck into a chicken, meat or fish meal.  I am wishing I was still a fish eater, and am trying to justify a thought that I could keep my own egg producing hen.  With me it would be free and well cared for.

I also keep deciding it can’t be right, as a vegan.  I keep coming back to the belief that, if I do that, I will be validating the system of exploitation that gives me access to the hen in the first place.

But is it different in the countryside, and in Bulgaria?  Is it OK to eat animals and their products if the animal has a free and natural life?  Is being a vegan a bit extreme?

I sometimes feel it is, and that I am being stupid and depriving myself just because I said that I would be a vegan for life, and I don’t want to be teased about giving it up.  Why not, I don’t know, really.  Vegans are no nicer than – I was going to say ‘the rest of us’, this is not a good place for a vegan to be – anyone else, and there are more of us than there are of them, that is more meat eaters than vegans, and this is my thought process which, as a vegan, I’m not entitled to, but it is where I’m at.

OK, muddle.  I have not felt embraced by vegans, any more than by anyone else.  As a human and a vegan, I have felt enraged and deeply wounded and betrayed by this, because part of my vegan expectation is that people will matter to vegans as much as any other living creature does.  As a vegan, especially in Bulgaria, I am really lonely.

I don’t know what is wrong with the vegetarian/vegan people here.  Their prejudice and misogynistic hatred and contempt seem to run just as deep, if not deeper – I mean, if you are a vegetarian or vegan out of conviction, that’s a love stance, isn’t it?  So how can you be cruel/rejecting/controlling towards a human being, especially if they share your convictions and believe in and practise the lifestyle?  And if you claim to embrace a peaceful and loving spirituality to boot?

I wonder if they read this.  I wonder if the people the media continually directs my attention back to are really wanting me to go back to them? Because if they do and if they read this, I’d like to say to them,

‘wake up and smell the coffee, guys.  I am gutted and devastated by the way you have treated me in this, the way you have turned away from me and turned in on yourselves, the way you have accepted a bad report about me from people who have no right even to have access to some of the things they say, let alone be spreading them’.

Maybe I made a mistake.  I believed in the vegan community, the kind, compassionate, caring, Christian, spiritual community.  I saw the sharing of values as a bond and covenant of friendship.  I still do.

I was going to liken it to believing in the disabled community, or a racial or ethnic community, but about those things you have no choice.  But is it still true that, even given who you say you are in the paragraph above, it is no more covenantal than being disabled or of a particular ethnic background?

There is one thing we all are, and that is human.  But even that is not a respected covenant.  So just as I am not going to find a friend in every human being just because I am human (we might be different in every other way), it probably follows that I am not going to find a friend in every vegan or spiritual person and shouldn’t believe in the idea of community anymore than I should believe in a disabled community.  The fact that we share a situation or cause or believe we share a conviction doesn’t mean we have what it takes to be friends and find friends.

This is garbage, isn’t it?  It is also a place of real pain and heartbreak for me.  And parading it on a page on the internet makes me feel less able to deal with it in a way that might heal relationships in real life.  It’s about motive.  Who am I writing for, and why?  They have as much right to feel betrayed as I do, maybe, if not more.

Non-vegans tease you all the time, pushing the boundaries of what you will or won’t embrace as acceptable and your reasons.  A question I keep coming back to is, if some animals are bred only for their usefulness or food value, if we were all vegan would they all become extinct?  These lovely, fluffy lambs we don’t want to kill and eat, the horses and the donkeys we don’t want to exploit.  If they only existed in the wild, would they soon become extinct, and our lives be perceptibly poorer for their absence?

Another question: is using an electronic sound deterrent on household pests and vermin a form of animal cruelty?  I’ve got a rat or 2, they are getting bolder.  They do my bedroom now.  I read they don’t like peppermint, so I put some peppermint teabags out all around the kitchen, and at the hole I know about.  They shifted them out of the way and carried on regardless.  I can’t afford rat catchers all the time, and I think they would be unsympathetic to a vegan approach anyway, the only other option seems to be to let dogs and cats eat them.  Or kill them and leave them for me. Lovely!  And inconsistent, to my mind.  So what do you do?

Vegetarian Bulgaria Sucks!

Here I am in Bulgaria, right?  Sofia, to be exact.

I checked Happycow.net for vegetarian restaurant outlets in Bulgaria, and the only ones seem to be in Sofia.  Only two of those are completely vegetarian, and don’t the buggers feel their power!

The food is great, but I have never experienced such harassment anywhere.

I got to Sofia, eventually, yesterday, hoping to go to my favourite vegetarian restaurant, which turns out to be closed until 15th August.

Why is it my favourite restaurant?  Is it because English media has been flooded, to my mind, at least, with images of it and suggestions that that is where I should go?  I am a very suggestible person, and I might have got that wrong.

So here I am, back in the only viable alternative, really – Dream House, the restaurant where one of the chefs broke into an aggressive cackle and said I was restaurant crawling (but not to ME, you understand), and then, the last time I was here, he put a CD on, just as I was leaving, which was what I understand to be heavy metal, saying something about a man shoving his cock in a woman’s mouth (please excuse me, those are the words of the song, which I need to repeat so you can understand how sexually molested I felt as I left that day.

Anyway, today here I am, having needed somewhere to eat.  It started off OK, I was fairly much in control of how I was relating and of my experience.  The man didn’t seem to be around, so that felt safe enough.

I watched some TV on the internet, yesterday’s news, and as I was packing up to go the woman behind the desk said, in English, ‘she’s so rude!’

When I went to pay, I asked her about it, and she denied that it had happened.  She said she always spoke in Bulgarian,  So I said possibly it had been a customer, and accepted I might have been wrong.  Then she became defiant and started laughing at me, saying it was my paranoia, not  theirs. Like, it’s paranoid to call restaurant staff on their rudeness and be upset when they lie about it, especially when my own reason for adopting veganism was spiritual and moral.  I don’t get it.

Anyway, no one stuck up for me, and just now the second girl on shift sat down with a couple of friends, and they were turning round and looking at me and talking.  I can only assume that they were saying what had happened.  They seem to think there is never an excuse for being angry, at least not for me, but they themselves are so rude and either they don’t care about putting it right, or they have strange ideas of how they should.

I hate Bulgaria so far. Every time I try and adjust that and be happy I’m faced with the same stuff.  I have no idea what they are trying to do.  Do they want a bit of me to rub off on them because I am English and they think I am charmed?  I’ve got to praying, ‘OK, God, let them have it.  Let them know how it feels to be me.  Let them experience it themselves’.  I hope they do.  RT et al are dishonest people hiding in the shadows if they refuse to recognise that imprecatory prayers belong to the New Testament as well as the Old.  Peter and Paul both prayed them.  RT et al are hiding behind cowardly dishonesty if they refuse people’s right today to do the same thing.  Anyway, these guys here think they are above anything negative.  I have to carry it on my own, and it’s my problem if I have a problem with that.  It’s my problem if I don’t like restaurant staff calling me rude, laughing with each other, then when I ask them about it they deny it and laugh at me, calling me paranoid.  Squeeky clean vegetarian restaurant, even when they are being abusive.  I’m the one that is supposed to come down out of my miff tree, and if it wasn’t an expectation that I was being vilified for not meeting, that would be the most comfortable thing for me to do.

Fuck em.  It’s not that I don’t care.  How can I not in a situation with such limited options that I thought was going to be good but has turned out to be so thuggishly cruel?

But fuck em anyway.

The worst thing is, when push comes to shove, my ‘favourite’ restaurant is just as bad.  Yesterday I felt we could make progress.  Why?  never mind.  But I get the impression they are reporting me to each other, so I suppse today’s people are going to mess it up for me, even if it could have turned round.  How is it that I always manage to end up being made to feel like the one in the wrong?

Shortly after I came in the man said ‘Jesus’.  In view of the fact that he has subsequently been completely offensive to me and allowed his staff to be (is he the owner?) without making an effort to put it right, I find that in itself completely offensive.  I’m tired of feeling I have to go through life making allowances for everyone but myself.

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