Tag Archive: Antipsychiatry


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I posted the following on Premier Christian Radio’s Facebook page about an hour ago, and it was removed.  I usually take copies of what I post and email them to myself, so I am able to post this to my blog.  I’ve added a couple of little bits but it is basically the same.

I have known and said for ages that Premier Radio, among other media organisations, including Church, like Kensington Temple, where I spent some time over 20 years ago, is stalking me, somehow. I have suspected computer hacking, among other things. They keep pressing my emotional buttons, putting snippets together from my life, appearing to appeal to me in some way, while never making committed contact or answering the emails that I have sent them. I’m not bombarding them, as they are me. Over the last few years I might have sent 5.

A little while ago I was searching Amazon for some books on the Sufi poet Rumi and came across a book written by someone called John Baldock. I took a closer look because I used to have a youth group leader at St Matthew’s Church in Bestwood, Nottingham by that name. He went to a theological college, that is the last I knew of him. it wasn’t him, it was someone else. But either last week or the week before on Inspirational Breakfast both St Matthew’s Church and John Baldock were mentioned in close proximity, and this is only one of many such incidents. It is making me sick, literally. I didn’t do anything with that book, I just looked at the information to see if it was him and it wasn’t. So how did Premier get this information?

Last week they were saying something about security and all working together in a way which made me think that lots of organisations are involved in an effort towards me, short of making proper legally recognised contact, as if THAT might cause a security breach? On my blog I used to write a lot about accidents and people being killed, which seemed to be coming thick and fast, that had some resonance in my life, in terms of similar or same names, places, lots of different references. I live in Nottingham now, I lived most of my life from 19 in London. Mark Aldridge at New Wine used to be assistant vicar to John Coles at St Barnabas Church. Mark was featured on a New Wine video a few months ago. On the local news on ITV the other day a newsreader called Sameena Ali Khan seemed to me to be close to tears as she reported a story of someone being killed and the name Aldridge was involved. I think there was another killing related close to that story in the same new programme and the names Wood something and Bar or Bart something came up. My last name is Barnett and there have been ‘Woods’ in my life, I thought of several but the only one I can remember now is Woodside Park, where St Barnabas Church is.

The thing I’ve always said is that I won’t validate this kind of stalking by media or Church or government organisations that won’t actually communicate with me normally. What they are doing is INCREDIBLY distressing and personally undermining, when I’m not drawing false comfort from it. I have a diagnosis of schizophrenia. I didn’t have it when I was first admitted to hospital in 1996, I don’t know when that diagnosis was settled on, I’ve had several. They say the fact I think this is happening to me is evidence of mental illness. I have said that over and over to many of the people doing this to me, and they cynically persist while pushing a mental health agenda. It is nothing short of torture, and cowardice, and I think if, for some reason, it isn’t recognised as criminal, it should be. Today, I feel really ill, weak and sick. I feel so isolated, my whole community is up in arms, I get really frightened. But the media keeps putting out this narrowcasting at me and I’m supposed to respond? It seems to me they are trying to cover something, get out of something, not have to deal with the consequences and ALL the implications of the situation by appealing to me as if I am suddenly an exception and someone special who can help them. They make ME feel as if I am perversely refusing to accept a responsibility which is being put to me and offered as grace, mercy and an honour.  My problem is that I believe we are responsible for what we know, and I feel as if that has been played on.  But today I thought that, if what I know is being thrust on me in an under the radar way which is not legally accountable, even though it makes me feel responsible, in truth I am not and must not try to be or think I should be.  I really believe it is for them to make committed contact with me.

There have been a couple of bombings close to my emotional and activity related home as well, including Manchester, recently, on 2 counts – it was the 45th anniversary of my father’s suicide, and I used to share a house with someone from Manchester who has figured in my situation as it is at the moment. Premier, and others, should not be doing this to me. It is a violation of my human rights and manipulative and an invalidation of me as a person. Will someone please listen to me? They should not be holding me in this situation, as they have now for 20 years or more. I really need help. I daren’t go to the police, they have treated me really badly in the past, I have a difficult relationship with them, and they also would uphold the mental health approach. And for obvious reasons I can’t push it with the mental health authorities, either, unless I want to find myself back on drugs or in hospital. And my immediate neighbours are making themselves impossible to live with since it started affecting them. My housing patch manager has been involved, the last email I had from her threatened me with a mental health assessment, in spite of the fact I have told her absolutely everything about the situation with my neighbours months ago. That was last Friday. I wrote back to her saying why I thought she shouldn’t and have asked her to clarify her intentions, and she has left me hanging ever since last Friday, not a word from anyone at the council. I have a psychologist appointment today that I don’t really want to go to, I feel as if I am going at gunpoint. I don’t want to go because I don’t think he will talk about any of this stuff. In spite of the book he wrote that made me think he might be helpful, he is really evasive and won’t touch it. He argues with me instead, tells me why he thinks it’s not happening. Makes his feelings about the way I sometimes react my problem, a relationship issue.

Possible Mental Health Assessment

I asked my housing patch manager to get involved with the situation with my neighbour. She spoke to him once before, months ago, and he said there was no problem. On Friday she told me she has spoken to him again and he now says I shout and play my music loud and she thinks a referral for a mental health assessment would be appropriate. That really scared me as, when I was in London, if I dared to say I thought I was being stalked and harassed they would set the wheels in motion without even telling me and turn up early in the morning unannounced being aggressive at my door. I wrote her a long email telling her why I thought it wouldn’t be appropriate which I also sent to my old CPN and my present psychologist, who is against the medical model in psychiatry. The only person I heard back from was my old CPN on something different I had added in another email as an afterthought, and she didn’t even mention what my housing patch manager had said, and I’ve heard nothing from my psychologist on it either. I’ve been really nervous all weekend, while at the same time trying to be relaxed about it and succeeding, I think, to a great extent, and believing I have every good reason to be. I’ve even been scared to write a blog post or Facebook status about it in case that somehow went against me. I’m not sure what is going on or why I have received no answer on the issue and am hoping they are not going to do what they did in London, but I stayed up to slice some bread I baked on Saturday morning and put it in a bag and into the freezer as a way of setting my house in order in case they turn up in the morning. Usually it has been a given that they are going to detain me. If they do, I won’t be allowed to use my laptop in the bedroom and I think not on the ward either, and they didn’t let me go out last time for about 2 weeks. Something to do with getting habituated to the environment but actually they just let me go out once they had completely broken me down and destroyed my confidence. I don’t know why, they just did. So if I get detained, if an assessment takes place, I might be offline for a while. I’m hoping my passport application goes through OK as well and I think I’m supposed to be at home to sign for it, so I don’t know what would happen there. All being well it is due within the next week. If they don’t turn up though I’m going to see my mum tomorrow, as usual. I feel as if I am being silly and making a fuss about nothing. I hope I’m right. The ridiculous thing is, months ago it was ME that told her I was shouting and losing it in reaction to the harassment, and she did nothing. Now she has it from him, though, she is talking about a mental health assessment. Why would she give his word so much power over mine? She did nothing when she heard it from me and he denied there was a problem.  I have wondered if maybe he thought he was giving me a chance and I have blown it.  For the sake of accuracy she did say she would, however, be prepared to talk to me about it again, but I said that I thought we had said all we could and I didn’t really want to have to go through it all again.  So the silence frightens me.  No feedback or discussion at all so far.  If this turns out to be the preliminary to someone knocking at my door I think it is totally wrong.  Having told me she is considering a Mental Health Act assessment I hope she might at least tell me she is going to go ahead with it and maybe even make an appointment, it would be consistent. But no one has ever given me an appointment for an assessment before, it’s always, without exception, been a surprise visit.

A Drug No Longer Needed

I used to have to take a capsule called Lansoprazole every day for acid reflux, but I’ve realised over the last few weeks that I don’t have to now. I take one really occasionally now. I think it must have something to do with the fact that I have lost some weight, for me. I noticed this once before, a few years ago. Michael Mish had introduced me to prill beads, that you put in a gallon jar of water and just leave them there and keep topping the water up. They alkalinise the water. I think I might have lost some weight during that period as well, I can’t remember. But I went to Wales for a week and, even without that water, I had no problem with acid reflux, and I put it down to the water quality at the time. I didn’t need it or medication in Bulgaria, either. I also thought it might be something to do with my vegan diet, which lasted about 6 years, but I’m not vegan now. So I think it must be the weight loss, I can’t think of any other explanation. My idiot GP when I was in London, who once gave me reason to think he wasn’t just an idiot, he was dishonest, told me I would need the medication for the rest of my life. It seems to me that state sanctioned drug pushers like to tell people things like that.

Michael Mish is a New Age musician.  My Church background had made me hear him with a little bit of reserve.  Prill beads aren’t New Age, I think they were developed for a space program or something. But it has reminded me of something I’ve been thinking for a while.  ‘My kind of Church’ often calls Eastern medicine and therapy techniques occult.  Things like acupuncture, for instance, which works on meridian lines in the body.  But while being suspicious of Eastern approaches to health to the point of hatred, ‘my kind of Church’ has swallowed the Greek medicine model wholesale and apparently without question, these days, anyway.  It didn’t use to be like that, to my memory, in the 70s.  When I was in Church then at least one preacher said that psychology wasn’t compatible with Christianity and preached against reliance on psychiatric drugs.  When I first saw books about psychology and started reading them because I wanted to try and find out why I was so messed up I felt incredibly nervous about it, if not guilty.  It was a very lonely and dark activity for me.  It never occurred to me, because of the preaching, to try and discuss anything I was reading with the Church leadership.  There have been times in recent years that I have felt the roles have been reversed, that I have thought that they were right then and not now, that I have grown into their position (if I really ever didn’t accept it) and they have grown out of it, or abandoned it, and in so doing have abandoned me and people like me. But I really think that the deep suspicion of Eastern and New Age medicine is, more often than not, cultural bias and blindness, insensitive, ignorant and a form of racism.

Bust up 05.07.2013

Edit note 02.06.2017:  This has come up as having been a ‘top’ post today.  Having re-read it I have decided to publish it again.  It recounts one of the worst experiences I had in hospital at that time.  But it was all bad, there was always an undercurrent of aggression.

Today I have decided to use names and hope that, in this situation, it will not lose me my blog.

This morning I went in for breakfast and sat with R.  Sharon and Kiran were serving.  They set up a certain tone and volume of conversation which I felt was harassing and barracking.  I said something to R about them wondering why I trusted others and not them, and that it was because they were not the others and that I choose my friends and my friends are not those who force themselves on me.  R said people who force themselves on you are not friends.  Sharon was picking up on the last ‘note’ of my speech and using it in her conversation with Kiran, in such a way and with such a history with me as really hurt me and made me feel desperate.  Sharon is a burly, loud, ugly mouthed brute of a woman who I have heard become verbally abusive to other patients when she has not been able to get her way, started talking about smacking legs and things to others when she has not had a good response from me.  When they saw I was desperate they were both looking at me and giggling. R said she thought Flora was something I could eat as a vegan so I said I would look at the ingredients, at which point Kiran turned away in a way that I believed to be deliberate.  I was angry about that and said so.  They continued to look at me and giggle, and I brought up that I had seen Sharon push N out of her way with her foot then walk away and say she didn’t care.  Sharon said “what did I effing do to N”.  She was taunting, smiling and staring.  They told me to leave the dining room and I said no and said they should get Jim, my key nurse.  At some point Steve came in.  Steve has given me a hard time while I have been there.  After what he did yesterday when I approached and talked to Jim, which he denied today when I confronted him with it, I had decided that he was not a reliable person and not to choose his involvement.  He shouted at me today, I told him to leave me and Jim alone, that he had jeered and mimicked me when I was talking to Jim yesterday, and he said he hadn’t.  I told him what I thought and what I had decided, saying I was withdrawing everything positive I had ever said to him and that he was not a reliable person, and he said good or something like that.  Eventually Roy came up and started confronting me, telling me to stop shouting and that it wasn’t acceptable.  I told him to leave me alone as he hadn’t been there.  I was shouting because I felt molested and hysterical with their intimate psychological harassment.  If they weren’t doing that nasty mimicking I might be able to cope without shouting, but I have had it almost non-stop while I have been there.  Last night I said to Alex, a female nurse, that I had been thinking of the staff team as a seamless robe, but that I was realising there were some who were OK and others who were not, and she agreed.  But the reason for the seamless robe feeling has been the invasive nature of their harassment.  I had decided to start relating to some and not others.  I started out saying I didn’t want to get close to any of them, but they found this unacceptable and broke me down emotionally until I see them as emotionally important in my life.  I am thinking of hospital as the place that I have to make relationships with staff work and where I can be treacherous and shouldn’t be.

I went outside into the corridor still upset and shouting, and he came and started the same thing again.  Sharon was behind him and I thought he should be speaking to her, not me, so I put my hands on his arms and tried to turn him round.  I thought with him this was OK as he presents himself as a friend who just takes people for walks.  It was his intervention leading to my assumption that it was OK to touch him and try to turn him round to make a point that made things worse.  I wasn’t violent, it was part of a heated conversation.  Sharon was taking the lead in asking him what I was doing to him, and suddenly she descended on me saying I was going to my room. She grabbed my arm and started pushing me, then she started twisting my arm.  I asked her why and she said I was going to my room.  I said she didn’t need to twist my arm to take me to my room.  In the corridor Jim came out of the clinic room and I pleaded with him to help me.  I was saying please.  He had said please in the situation I wrote about in an earlier blog post, and I never managed to have the conversation with him about all the times they ignore us saying please.  He wouldn’t get them off me but came with them to my room.  On the way Sharon was saying do this, don’t do that, like don’t kick the door, but we were nowhere near my room at that point and I wasn’t kicking anything and never had.  They sat me on my bed and told me to calm down.  I asked Jim to get Sharon off me but he wouldn’t.  I said she was abusing me, he said the only abuse he had heard was coming from me.  I told him he was selectively blind and deaf.  I asked him if this was his way or idea of asserting authority.  They are trying to say I have a problem with authority rather than with what I see as abusive, intrinsically.  I told him he was inconsistent, having fun with me when it suited him and joining in something like this when it didn’t.  He said he would have to medicate me if I didn’t ‘calm down’.  I said I was calm, just saying what I thought and angry, and that he couldn’t medicate me for being angry.  I also pointed out that it was Sharon who was sitting beside me breathing fast and clearing her throat.  At some point she loosed her grip and I automatically tried to free my arm.  They began to remonstrate with me and told me not to try, that she had loosened her grip into something called something or other – as if explaining what it was called made the situation any more acceptable.  They had said something about being irrational and I said that trying to loose my arm when someone looses their grip was a perfectly rational thing to do.  Jim said I was affecting other patients, I said I was being affected.  I asked him where he had been when I needed him and was asking for him, he said he was doing medication.  I asked him about yesterday when he had said he would try to find me when I left a note for him about what Sharon had done to N, he said he had looked for me in the corner I had told him about earlier.  When I left the office I had gone straight up the corridor to my bedroom, and they can see the whole corridor from the office.  He said he would be perfectly prepared to talk to me when I calmed down, and I told him I might not be prepared to talk to him.  Roy offered to get me a cup of tea since I had been saying before they brought me to my room that I wanted to get my tea.  I declined it on principle.  They kept telling me to calm down, I told them not to tell me to calm down.  You can’t order someone who believes you are abusing them to calm down.  I said I was going to lie back on my bed and I did, and as soon as I took that position they all walked out on me.  I opened my door and shouted “Occupy, Occupy, Occupy until I die, shame on you”.  I have done that before.  They laughed.  I said it again and said “recognise a gift when it is offered you”, meaning that shame was a gift.  I have said that before as well.  I was shouting why is it OK to force me but not to hug me.  Sharon had been parading in front of me earlier with a smile on her face, which I had said I interpreted as, “come on then, hit me, and see what happens”.  That is the impression I get from their behaviour with all their legalised arsenal behind them.  After I managed to stop shouting I lay on my bed, wanting to go out but not daring to say in case they decided to stop me.  When I eventually went to go out I asked Paul to open the door for me and was upset and felt humiliated at the almost desperate, begging tone I had adopted because I felt so intimidated.  There were four nurses in the office when I went out, Jim was one of them, Steve another.  These two were both facing the window.  As I had walked down the corridor I had seen Jim and said “I have a legal obligation to myself and other people I see you abusing”.  Legal was not the right word, but I still have an obligation.  As I passed the window I said that it was hypocrisy with them having instruments of assault as part of their normal job and treating me the way they had because I got angry at their abuse and harassment.  I said it was an expression of civil war and they knew it, and I told Jim to look at me, twice, but he refused, as they all did.  So in the end I said “don’t look at me then”, and left.  This man who thumbs his nose at me and sticks his tongue out at me as a way of being friendly, to the first of which I reciprocated and the second I initiated, yesterday.  I thought we were OK with each other.  I thought about it later.  That looking down and refusal to engage with me was in itself passive abuse, which is a term I learned when reading a book about boundaries years ago, before I was ever admitted.  I got outside, I was shouting again.  The other night he had been on with someone else who I have felt really helped by this week, and from the office at a certain point  while one of the other patients and I were singing, he had called out “apologise, say you’re sorry”.  When I was outside shouting I referred to that and said “try some of it yourself, when you are ready to apologise to me”.  That day won’t come, it never happens.  The illusion of emotional security is just that, an illusion.  I began to cry and scream walking away from the ‘hospital’.

When I got back this afternoon Tim came and let me in and said “Uh-huh” as he opened the door.  I said just opening the door was fine, I didn’t need a comment, he said OK, I said stop answering me back.  I got to my room, discovered it closed, and went back to the office and said I wanted it opened.  Kiran was there, she chimed “OK”.  I said “what did you say?” and she said “I said OK”.  I said she had a short memory.  She didn’t say anything, asked another patient if she was OK and opened my door.  I said “thank you” but obviously annoyed, she said “you’re welcome”, ignoring my tone and my right to it as they always do, and walked away.  I said “you kids won’t accept correction, will you?” and she chimed back “I don’t need it” and kept walking.  That response was a bit of an eye opener to me as to how much disrespect they actually have towards us.  I had named Kiran in my note to Jim as someone who might have witnessed the incident between Sharon and N.

I am still waiting to be told the outcome of the SOAD report, nearly two weeks on.  I was saying yesterday that I am finding it surreal and disorientating.  Some people seem to be trying to make me feel I am special and cosy up to me and give me what seems to be preferential treatment.  Sharon was winking at me the other day.  She has known for some time I don’t want to relate to her.  I have felt a few times that I am becoming unavailable for patients who are on medication and expressing an objection to it.  I am far too happy in their faces when I myself am not there and seem to be developing helpful relationships with some staff.  Those relationships have today shown themselves to be unreliable.  Even in the conversation with the nurse last night we were OK until she adopted the usual stance to which she referred in what I had thought was a safe conversation, that they ‘have to force medication on people’.  I feel bad about not giving a conversation with Jim another chance before posting this, but I know as always that I am not the only person this happens to and many people could not get what they wanted from such a conversation, and that he could have stopped the whole thing when he saw me begging him to in light of the relationship I thought we had.  He could see I was desperate and upset and not violent.  Whatever my personal feelings I know it is not my role to negotiate and help reform from inside without any accountability from them.  And the last written complaint I sent that I waited several months for a reply to got the response that it was my mental illness that made me perceive things that way.  In a mental hospital awaiting a report from the SOAD I am not different, I am not special.  Sometimes I have so much fun with other patients and some of the nurses but if they decide to medicate me they won’t be stopped, and I am intermittently aware of that and become frightened, and I think what the staff are doing to me in this no man’s land is unfair, whatever their intention.

I have become so confused that I find myself doubting that my position on enforced medication is right and not being sympathetic to other patients.  But I know I am more tolerant and reasonable than the staff have shown themselves to be today.  If they required me to go through what they did today before being prepared to talk to me that is wrong.  Their position seems to be they don’t do what we say, we do what they say, because they are in charge, and they will not undermine or be seen to be undermining each other no matter how treacherous of a relationship that makes them or how unfair to the patient they personally think that makes them.  I have said a few times recently that it is closer to zoology than anything fit for human consumption.  Veterinary practice.  I am the same person happy or enraged.  They would not do this with their relationships at home.  Maybe some of them wish they could.

This entry in Wikipedia was posted by a Facebook group member a year ago, and I posted it to my timeline.  It just came up today as a memory.  It is quite long, too long for me to read again at the moment.  I’m not an authority, anyway.  I don’t know a lot about the professionals and experts cited and their views, though I know a little.  I’m offering it in this post for anyone who wants to read it and do their own research, or even anyone who might already know more than I do.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Social_construction_of_schizophrenia

Is Self-Pity Always Bad?

I get really fed up and offended by people, especially CERTAIN people, talking about self-pity as if it were always a bad thing. Over the last few years I have come to see self-pity as at least sometimes positive, a way of being kind to yourself and something I think should be respected in yourself and in others. There are references in the Bible to Jesus having pity on people, and if we are both to love others and love ourselves I don’t see why self-pity should be seen as negative, though I was brought up to see it that way, especially in church. I think sometimes it is cruel to tell people they shouldn’t be self-pitying and can have more to do with the critic’s own feeling of being challenged and feeling unable (or unwilling?) to help or sympathise. In my own situation I have sometimes found self-pity to be essential and an expression of self-respect. I did a Google search, is self-pity always bad, and most results said it was, but I found this which I found interesting. The writer says self-pity is bad if a problem is easy to solve, among other things. It is on a forum for people with autism and has a few responses which also make interesting reading, I think.  One of the responses points out that the word ‘pity’ is related to the word ‘piety’ and used to be seen as a positive word.  http://wrongplanet.net/forums/viewtopic.php?t=171843.

THIS Is MADNESS. . . .!

This is madness! What is people’s argument, that the whole world is illegal and I just have to pay my money and take my choice? My neighbours are harassing me, the media is harassing me, the police haven’t been there for me, the mental health authorities refuse to acknowledge there is a problem that is not in my head. The problem in my head seems to be that I believe people should observe legal boundaries and respect people’s rights in the way they relate to them. People say they are bound by professional roles and obligations, so really they are not available and not prepared to acknowledge the facts staring them in the face. Their livelihoods might be on the line. While in the meantime they use all sorts of bullying and subterfuge and subliminals, etc, etc, to get YOU to open up, but then, what will they DO with it? They say they are there to help, they SAY, and I’m sure some of them mean it, but how far will they actually go? And how blind and brainwashed are they? My neighbours keep reacting, are they hacking my computer? I don’t know, they react WHENEVER I begin to think creatively or independently and my feelings start to separate. There is a woman who keeps pelting out the most contemptuous hallelujahs. I don’t know how big the group is next door or who they are really, but it feels like teamwork. There is a man who keeps ranging from emotional to anger, occasional sounds that hit me as violent. They are up now, keeping vigil, even at this time of night, goading me and making me spew all the time. It’s like a psychic interrogation. I shout back at the constant harassment and disturbances, and when I do it’s usually the woman who puts me under the cosh of the most terrifying hallelujah you ever heard. Sometimes now I can keep my emotions under control and shut myself up, but I don’t always succeed. I know there ARE Christian groups that do this sort of thing to people, but I think this woman is hate filled. Maybe so are they. It’s total contempt, I’ve shouted at them loads of times that they are harassing me and they refuse to stop. It’s constant comments and last-wording it, through the wall, not observing legal boundaries or respecting my privacy. Every time I enter the lounge she pelts out a hallelujah, if I fart they comment, if I cough they comment, if I belch they comment, or laugh, it’s intimately invasive and degrading, when I put my media on she shouts hallelujah, then goes on to comment and hallelujah all the way through, often dependent on the rhythms she hears, I think, but also nearly always seeming to be psychically connected with my thoughts and feelings and any development of thought and perception. Killing it dead, every time. And I’m left feeling I’m the one in the wrong, because I have reacted with anger and verbal abuse to their harassment, in my absolute terror and unwillingness to condone or in any way affirm it or reward it. Every time something comes on the tv or radio about children, babies, child abuse, they are there, commenting and going insane, so I think they are trying to blackmail and manipulate me with accusations of paedophilia. Tonight I shouted that I am a paedophile and not ashamed, just to try and get them off my back. But it’s been going on for weeks now, if not months. I expect them to start again tomorrow. And when I tell the mental health authorities this sort of thing is happening they say it is an auditory hallucination that is following me around, so I’ve been scared to say anything, because they are in your face contemptuous, patronising and hypocritical with their aggressive so-called caring and insist on putting you back on ‘medication’ or putting you on a section 3 for forcible treatment in hospital if you won’t comply. My neighbours know this, it is one of the things I have shouted through the wall at them, several times, first of all in an attempt to get them to take responsibility and go to the authorities because their word will carry more weight than mine, and more recently to tell them that they are taking advantage of my position to maintain power over me. I have been told by psychiatrists, or nurses, or both, that at least I am truthful about not being willing to take medication, many people say they will, collect the prescription then don’t take it, they say. I’m beginning to think I am too truthful for my own good. I don’t want to play the game, I want to bust it open. I owe it to myself, at the very least, to be able to do that. I was thinking a little while ago, having shouted that I don’t want to give in to my neighbours’ manipulation (I should also have said bullying, and blackmail), maybe we all just manipulate and overpower each other for what we want, and you are a happier person if you can accept and acknowledge it. Hey, I’LL accept and acknowledge it, I can do that. I can be happy with that. At least, that was what I thought when I thought it. Lady hallelujah is still sending out little gas pellets at my head and confusing me. I settle on one thought and feeling and she drives me in a different direction. All the time. At every turn in thought and feeling. I’ve said it’s occult. It is certainly, at the very least, illegal, harassment and nuisance behaviour, and torture, a constant drip, drip, drip of the same word over and over again. I have likened it to dripping tap torture that used to be used in communism, according to at least one book I read by someone who has been there. I think it was Richard Wurmbrand, Tortured For Christ. I read it in my early to mid teens. Except it’s not a drip, most of the time it is searing and blood-soaked (please don’t anyone tell me it is the Blood of Jesus, or the martyrs, or anything like that), enraged, blood seeking. I have to commit to saying, this woman hates me. Even if yet another interjection has changed my thoughts and feelings about saying it.

Thank God for toilet breaks!  I can think, at least a bit, in the toilet.  I was thinking, people say that sometimes civil disobedience is called for, and wondering if that is what some of the people in the media who seem to want to help me think they are engaged in.  If so, I don’t understand why they don’t respond to the emails I have sent them, not in a committed way, not in writing.  I was brought up to believe in the rule of law, but if the administration of the law is corrupt and blind eye turning, how can someone in my situation trust to that alone?  So I’m wondering if people have been waiting for me to come to a position of accepting that before they are willing to acknowledge my emails in any other way than theatre.  I’ve not really felt able to justify it to myself, looking to the media, but maybe it IS time to engage in civil disobedience over this and accept the help of those who see themselves as being so engaged.  But my position has been that it is stalking and illegal, and if it wasn’t happening then people wouldn’t be being put in mental hospitals for saying it was happening to THEM.  For it to be done in the name of religion is appalling, people should have some refuge somewhere.  But isn’t it appalling for it to be done for ANY reason by ANY organisation, religious or secular? And isn’t it subterfuge and making pawns of people to seem to be offering help and support, knowing they have a diagnosis of mental illness for saying this is happening, but not committing themselves when you try to avail yourself of it?  OK.  Then there is all the abuse and dishonesty within the mental health system, where people know that, in some cases, this is happening to people, because it affects THEM and THEIR involvement as much as the person they are involved with.  The UN says that forced psychiatry is torture, but to be honest, delicate little flower me with my delicate ego, I’ve found it ALL torture.  The woman laughed when I typed that.  I am sure they are hacking my computer.  And they’ve kept murmuring ‘yes’ in places, as if encouraging me to continue.  The problem, as I have said, is not primarily in my reactions.  There should be no harassment to make me need to regulate my reactions.  I feel a fool for having the wrong attitude, but there is no right attitude with this.  I can hear them hedging and reacting to everything I am typing.  SHE is INCREDIBLY aggressive and devious, using all sorts of tones and inflections and twists in posture.  And I am really afraid, as everyone knows, of being seen as mentally ill in my communication, because of the consequences.  I feel as if people have been riding me and messing me about for weeks, at least.  OK, that’s it.  She’s still muttering, every time I try to come to a stop.  I feel totally controlled by her, emotionally and psychologically.  By both/all of them, I’m not sure how many are involved at any given time, but especially by her.  For tonight, it ends here.  I hope people will accept this as a truthful, factual and sane communication.

Laura Delano on Recovering Myself

I posted this talk on my Facebook page last year and it has come up as a memory today.  When I saw how long it was I wasn’t sure if I could be bothered to listen to it again, but I am glad I did.  It’s about 50 minutes long, but absolutely engaging throughout.  I find I am able to identify with her on so much of what she has to say.  She seems obviously nervous, and I think she is very brave, it is an incredibly painful subject for those of us who have been through it and find it continues to add to the pain that exposed us to it in the first place.  I hope you will listen to it.  I’ve heard a lot of it before and agreed with it, and thought the same things myself.  It’s hard for me to say what I thought myself and what I picked up, but it doesn’t matter, it’s not important.  In my opinion, this talk – wow, she’s amazing!  All power to her.  I’m glad she has found freedom from this monster called the psychiatric system.  Now I want to, once and for all.

Title? Oh, Who Cares????!!!!

I noticed the tee shirt worn by a Trump supporter the other day and thought I wouldn’t mind one for myself. It said, ‘proud to be deplorable’. I’ll HAVE a bit of that! And while I’m at it, I’ll have a bad attitude as well. If my attitude is bad in some people’s eyes – well, THAT’s sad. . . .
At the moment I feel as if I am never going to be happy again. That will be my punishment for having a bad attitude, all the earnest people I’d like to hang out with won’t want anything to do with me. But – really? Are they really that earnest? I feel I’ve seen so much love today in some of these earnest people. Makes me feel as if I’ve got a bit of a cheek. I’d love to be able to scrape myself off the ceiling and love and be loved with them. They love Jesus. They are serious people.  Aren’t they?
Sorry, guys, bad attitude it’s got to be. Still love you, still need you, but when it comes to you, in this particular situation, I need what you, and I, might call a bad attitude. Trying to have a good one results in me not being able to think for myself, or going into emotional meltdown and ending up in hospital.
And I can’t bear either of those!
(Sorry, this is all cramped up because I cut it from what started as a Facebook post.  I have no idea how to sort it out)

Please read this, it is shocking.  Read it literally, and also draw parallels with other situations I have written about, please.  I think the people who make these sorts of decisions are not fit for purpose, and our system is full of them.  Seemingly no idea of ethics, full of cruelty, dishonesty, ignorance, lack of regard for the rights and feelings of others . . . . Heartbreaking.  Shattering.  Degrading and demeaning.  Dehumanising, for both parties.  Come on, please.  Isn’t it time we said enough is enough?  Why are we like this?  Who has done it to us, as a society, in relatively recent times?  Maybe I just don’t know my history.  Maybe THAT is my problem . . . .

Jesus loves me, this I know
For the Bible tells me so
Little ones to Him belong
They are weak, but He is strong

Encounter With A WPC

Just a quick one, this, I don’t have time for more at the moment.

I was coming home from the supermarket at around 8:30 pm, and a little WPC was coming towards me, so I said a friendly hello, and she said hello.  At least, I think that’s how it went.  Then I said, ‘I wish I could trust you guys, I’m in awful trouble, but every time I try and tell you you put me in a mental hospital’.  She said, ‘That’s not very good, is it?’.  I said, ‘No, it’s not, I think it’s corruption.’, and she said, ‘well, you just keep smiling, and we won’t put you in a mental hospital.’.

Excuse me??????????????????????????

I said ‘thanks for your concern’, sarcastically, obviously, and she said, ‘that’s OK’, and I said ,’yeah, right’, and walked on, and she turned off.  Unfortunately I didn’t get her name and number.  I think if someone says something like that to them they deserve to be taken seriously, however they present.

Edit note: 6:10 pm – Lol, just to make me a liar, it is available now!  This is a recent thing, they used never to become available, or at least, I would have given up after days of trying if they did!

I posted what I thought were some quite significant things yesterday, and wrote some official emails I needed to write to Nottingham City Homes, to whom I have reported my situation with my neighbour and who, in spite of my explaining to them that I am an emotionally and psychologically vulnerable person and find face to face conversations with people who have power in my situation difficult because I often find them manipulative and overpowering, have been insisting that they cannot progress my complaint without a face to face meeting.  This, in spite of the fact that I have told them everything I can, there is nothing more to tell, really, and that I have said I want to keep things in writing for legal reasons.  I asked them in 3 or 4 emails over 2 or 3 days if there was another way to approach the situation, and the person involved kept replying with emails that didn’t answer the question.  In the end I said I was not prepared to trust them in a face to face conversation anyway if they would neither confirm nor deny the possibility of a different approach.  And guess who feels in the wrong?  Muggins, me!  I feel guilty and so unworthy of their kind attention!  Honestly, I’m not being sarcastic.  This must be manipulation at its best, don’t you think?

This is relevant to the title of my post because, for some time now, Premier has been making especially its Inspirational Breakfast unavailable at times when I have written something that, to me seems to be quite significant.  They feed lots of things back to me as well, that they shouldn’t, it seems to me, have access to.  As I have said before, they are not the only ones who do this.  Everyone who is accessing me and withholding from me in this way is making me feel reliant on them and that I should be and am grateful to them and I think that is wrong.

The stalking started with Premier and the Church, over 20 years ago now.  But secular media have been doing the same thing, both to me and to people connected with me.  Some of my Facebook friends have recently posted some very interesting material which demonstrates this.  Music I have played recently has started to feature a lot in adverts, for instance.  A lot, it seems to me it can only be by design.  I am needing to stress and assert this because I know my nurses, at least, read this blog and I am afraid of the actions  they they could take towards me so much I believe I have to do my best to make myself absolutely clear and justify what I am saying.  Otherwise I wouldn’t feel the need to bother doing that.  It does seem to me it makes things quite laboured.  Really it is a form of stalking in itself.  They claim no awareness of what is happening.  Strange, so many other people are made aware.

OK, full stop.  Not going to pad it out or try and write a piece with a good ending today.  Just some factual stuff.  Have a good day.  Thanks for reading.

communication

This is an edited version of something I first published on 23rd June 2010.  I’m calling out names and saying what happened, since one of those names came up for me early this morning in an email log I am writing to myself for future official use, hopefully.  In the meantime, when I add to that log people in the media use what I have added, or make their programmes unavailable (all this I have noticed at other times I have written).  When this post was first published I was a committed vegan and a convinced pacifist.  I look back on who I was then with admiration and at least a little regret that I am no longer the same person.

At least, that is what I have been taught.  I have been taught that the Bible is the sword of the Spirit.  Having been taught that, and having believed it for so many years, it is the book I feel most relaxed with, and that helps to bring some peace into my world.  If I don’t read it, my focus goes all over the place.  As a vegan and a pacifist, though, I have problems with some of its content that I used not to have.  And I can’t think of a safer person to be around, or someone more representative of Jesus’ teaching (and I want to be known as both of those things) than someone who will not kill for either appetite or personal, or even national, security.  If I will deliberately do harm for ANY reason, I might do harm for ANY reason.  And I won’t.  I want people to know that about me, and to know it is OK for them to be the same.  I am an aggressive non-killer (aggressive and violent are not the same).  I am frightened of the blindness of people who are not, and particularly of the ways they might express that towards me, feeling as vulnerable as I do.

I’m hearing a big suggestion, at the moment, that a decision has been made to attempt to home medicate me, since I haven’t been dealing well with things round here.  The suggestion is definitely there and deliberate, and is either true or a lie.  If I stick around long enough I will find out, if they don’t just back off.  Either way, no formal approach has been made to me to try and help in any other way.  I find it abusive at a cellular level.  (Hmm, cells.  That, with all the yelling and other weirdness, isn’t part of Colin’s code to break me down, is it?  It’s only just occurred to me.  I’m sure he wouldn’t like me saying it, but I read a book of his called ‘Prayer Explosion’ where he talked about praying in code.  He used the IRA bombings as an example, saying at one level he was praying about the bombings, and at another, not openly acknowledged but deliberate, level, he was praying about a problem in the church.  I stayed home one Christmas Day and read the book.  I felt racked.  I kept bursting into tears.  I thought it was a good experience.  I was happy to be doing it, I thought it was a worthwhile way to spend Christmas Day since I couldn’t or wouldn’t get my head around making myself vulnerable enough with the people I wanted to be with to try and break my isolation.  I spent other Christmas Days the same way, sometimes.  I loved the time with God (as I saw it, and am sure it sometimes was), but it never made much difference to what was going on.

What I said about reading the Bible, I said it because I just did, and it settled my mind.  But while I was thinking afterwards it occurred to me that, in Pentecostalism, which has been a huge part of my background since about 12-13, I often heard that I should read and carry my Bible, because it is my sword.  But it ISN’T my sword.  It isn’t MY sword.  It is the sword of the SPIRIT.  I think there is a problem with seeing it as MY sword, because that means, often, I will wield it in relationships.  If I see it as the sword of the Spirit, its first and maybe its only place of operation, as far as I am concerned, should be in my own life.

The image comes from Ephesians 6, where Paul writes that we should be equipped with the whole armour of God.  The whole passage is metaphorical, so there is no reason for believing that to take up the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God, means to walk around literally with a book called the Bible in your literal hand.  Revelation 1:16 says that the person who appeared to John had a two-edged sword coming out of his mouth.  I was going to say ‘Jesus’, not ‘the person’, because that is the way I have been taught it.   But I looked it up on www.biblegateway.com and the first version which came up was the NIV which says, in verse 13, that it was one who looked like ‘a son of man’, not ‘the Son of Man’.  The Son of Man is a phrase from Ezekiel which Jesus applied to Himself, but it is my impression that, originally, it wasn’t referring to Jesus, even prophetically.   In Ezekiel it was the way God addressed Ezekiel.   But Jesus used it for Himself.  I like this, and its apparent ambiguity in Revelation in the NIV.  I can’t comment on the accuracy of the translation.  From what I learned at Bible College about the original language form (or was that only Hebrew and not Greek?  I can’t remember, and this isn’t a scholarly piece or meant to be, so I’m not going to look it up, but if I do later I might edit this) it’s as good a translation as any other and holding both this and other translations opens up possibilities if you don’t insist on putting them in opposition.

Who IS this son of man?  Just because it says in Revelation things we normally associate with Jesus, the NIV doesn’t make it clear, in the immediate passage, that it IS Jesus, so maybe it should be seen as having a wider application on a metaphorical and spiritual level than just to the person of Jesus.  What does it mean to be a Christian?  What does it mean to be full of the Spirit, to have the Spirit of Christ?  To be baptised in the Spirit?  It isn’t just a mind thing.  The Holy Spirit is in us and all around us.  He is the connecting force.  If we are ‘baptised’, we are soaked through.  Impregnated with the character of the baptising agent.  That is what we are and what we always are.  The Spirit of Christ is the human spirit as much as it is God’s Spirit.  They are inseparable and interchangeable, even in the Bible.  Bruce picked up on this 2 weeks ago at the 5pm service, or the 7pm service, when I wrote my open letter to Colin Dye (I published it as a separate blog, because I thought it might get wiped).  It was the week they had the visiting speaker at the 2.30 service, someone Rogers.  It took me a long time to write that entry, and already at the 2.30 service they were showing signs of having seen it, even though I hadn’t published it at that point.  I hesitated over using the word ‘spirit’ and whether or not to capitalise it, and Bruce ran with it.   I hadn’t published it at that point, or if I had, I hadn’t told them or given them a copy.  And I haven’t given them the blog address either.  I only sent a copy to Colin and Gabriel, and they had just left for a conference before I even sent it.

(Please note, I am not teaching, I’m just writing a blog entry.  My impression is my impression now, without re-reading.  You would have to read it yourself to form your own impression.  I’m just thinking onto the keyboard, trying to find a better shape for my motivational beliefs than the one I have carried for so long.  So I refuse to be held to account by anyone else’s assertion [usually covertly made, just like the threats and vitriol.  Or is that a misinterpretation of intent?  If you weren’t creating a context for me to interpret it in it wouldn’t even be an issue] that I am putting out a false teaching.  It is just food for your own thought and research.  This is a blog, not a teaching platform, which for so many years I have said I do not want, because I believe it goes against Jesus’ teaching.  But maybe that too is my misunderstanding.  Jesus stood up and taught (or did He?  Didn’t He normally sit DOWN to teach?), and although He told His disciples not to be called teacher, he did tell them to teach.  But what is teaching?  My question is not ‘is it ONLY standing on a platform’, but ‘is it standing on a platform AT ALL?’.  If we shouldn’t be called ‘teacher’, how can a situation arise where someone IS called a teacher that we ‘should’ listen to?  Listen to?  Talking and listening are not the only things required for learning.  Jesus said teach them TO DO everything I have commanded you, and forcing an earbashing on someone isn’t the way learning takes place for a child, so why should it become so for adults?  Head knowledge isn’t training, and telling people who have sat at desks and completed written assignments that they ‘are trained’, and saying their practice should conform to that ‘training’, leads to pride and elitism if a person is given authority on that basis.  (I know what I mean!)  In my opinion, all teaching and learning should be organic, hands on and relational.  THAT would do away with the professional classes, wouldn’t it?  It would also do away with state control  (I can’t write anything at the moment without doubting it, and I doubt that already.  Also it is not a commitment to a belief or an ideal, just a conclusion that I am coming to, rightly or wrongly, in my own head in this blog entry).

My reservation is over things like medicine, and the fact that I know that will be one of other people’s main reservations.  Am I thankful for modern medicine?  I don’t know.  I am as dependent on it as other people, at least when it comes to taking paracetamol for a headache or to deal quickly with cramp, which is more likely, but that doesn’t mean I am or should be thankful.  If I had a better lifestyle, I wouldn’t need the medicine.  And I believe in God, specifically I believe in Jesus, and I have already experienced healing through prayer myself, so I know He heals.  I mean physically.  I know He heals in other ways than physically as well.  One day, when I was 19 and still in Nottingham, I was at home reading the Bible and God said to me ‘I am the only psychiatrist you will ever need’.  I have never ceased to believe that.  It was a ‘holy place’ moment.  I knew it was true.

I read a book once called ‘Roots and Shoots’.  It talked about the root determining the fruit, and it was about psychiatry and other therapies.  For Christians, the roots of psychiatry are bad because its agenda was explicitly to eradicate religious belief and ‘superstition’.  So any manifestation of those things is at best marginalised, in the psychiatric model, and at worst costs people their freedom and a right to protect the inviolate state of their own bodies.  I suppose I mentioned psychiatry because it was in a mental hospital where I got into the argument about the roots of modern medical practice having come from robbing graves when research on bodies was illegal.  It BEGAN with illegality and a lack of respect for the person research was being carried out on, and for their relatives.  It hasn’t changed very much.  MANY people say they feel as if they are treated like meat, but the media doesn’t give many of them airtime (unless something undeniably awful comes to light, then they will bandwagon with it, how can they not and save face?) and the politicians vilify their own who say so.  WHY?  Why would they do that?  What could be the motive?  Who is it that they do not want, ordinarily, to benefit from otherwise acceptable people saying such ‘awful’ things?  Could it be the people they call mentally ill?  Maybe their thinking hasn’t gone that far, I hope it hasn’t.  But if hospital staff are rude and treat people as an inconvenience and a nuisance, why is a politician , OF ALL PEOPLE, slammed for saying so?  That was my experience as well.  The nurses would have loads of time to hold rowdy discussions in their office, and very little for the patients.  There was even a photograph in the ward showcase of a drinking party with one of the nurses totally out of her face, and they were expressing concerns about MY (non-existent) alcohol problem!  I, particularly, did not want to see one of my nurses in that state, not even in a photograph.  It was up there, on a psychiatric ward, supposedly portraying ‘normal social behaviour’ among staff in their time off.  Proactive they were not, except for making sure people got up, washed (sometimes), ate and were medicated.  They bullied you so much, or allowed bullying without comment, during the day and at medication times, you knew that if you didn’t queue you would be in trouble.  If you refused your medication they threatened you, even though they knew as well as you did if you had managed to get hold of the information in spite of that stance, that you had a right to refuse and to wait to see the psychiatrist to have it reviewed.  I refused one night and they threatened me with an injection, and when I said that I had a right to refuse and that the right thing to do was to refer me back to the psychiatrist, they still insisted verbally and said it wasn’t true, and I spent the whole night in fear that they were going to burst into the room.  I remember I was really upset that night by the way they handled it, they really made a barney of it, as they so often did about things.  They never retracted their insistence, but also they didn’t force the medication.  But it was like a cold war, and it was a constant state of existence.  And then they would come on friendly and expect you to be as well.  Or in conversation they would sternly say that you had refused your medication, even while, until you saw the psychiatrist, they weren’t forcing you.  But you were never in peace.  They had to maintain power.  They wouldn’t even acknowledge your right to exercise that right and be treated like someone worthy of respect for doing so.  When asked for time they were always busy.  Maybe people wouldn’t have had to ask if they had spent time developing a relationship with patients anyway.  Most of the time they didn’t.  Even if they were in the same room, ‘observing’, they would normally be reading a newspaper.  Most of the time the system was so abusive, even if not everyone in it was, and you knew nothing would change even if you spoke to someone who seemed to be reasonable, it was quite rightly beneath the dignity of most people in there with a modicum of self-respect to go cap in hand asking for time.  Even if you did it often didn’t happen.  I remember I was buttonholed to sit down with my nurse and work out a care approach for myself on the ward.  That was the end of the care plan.  All the time I was there it was never implemented, at least not insofar as a written commitment from the staff to spend time talking was concerned.  You were told you could approach your named nurse, but if you did you were always told they were busy, and promises to get back to you rarely materialised.  If someone became insistent, they got the door shut in their face, or worse.  It happened to me and others.  And often, if an incident arose, the nursing staff withdrew and wouldn’t participate, and no debriefing was offered, no process of resolution, and it would be handed over to the next shift, and they also wouldn’t mention it, and if you tried to bring it up with them they were reluctant to talk about it, and instead of offering any kind of counselling or discussion which ended up in them giving ground or acknowledging that ground might need to be given, you felt either told off and disapproved of, or dismissed. Even with senior nursing staff.  The whole attitude to care was ‘you will do this or we can (normally expressed as ‘we will’) make you’.   A choice appeared to be being given, but really there was no choice.  That is bullying.  It’s the approach that was used almost invariably and routinely with me.  Even if I managed to voice my rights so they backed off, as happened with one man, he continued to bully me so much, even in the act of backing off, I ended up sobbing on a chair, unattended and ignored, for half an hour or more.  He wanted to give me extra medication for some reason, I can’t remember why, and in the end I was begging him not to force it on me, and he grabbed my hands hard and twisted them.  He was the same person who, when I first went in and decided to handle myself as their equal and not as someone in need of medical care, and to make requests as their equal (it was for a pen and paper or a phone to phone a solicitor, or something) he said ‘who does she think she is, the queen?’  I put in a complaint, and he denied it.  I believe the other staff would have backed him up in that denial if I had tried to pursue it any further.  But I was devastated.  I believed I was acting with appropriate self-respect and was trying to show my presence of mind in the only way I had available, and he mocked me for it.  And that made me angry, and he didn’t care, he just acted as if I wasn’t there.  I was saved from the second incident, the crying incident, by a fellow patient who gave me half a banana and talked to me, otherwise I couldn’t have stopped.  Another time a girl decided to throw some old newspapers away.  A male nurse asked her why she was throwing them away, and she said they were old, and he said ‘who told you you could throw them away?’  Her answer was right.  With full dignity she said ‘God’.  She wasn’t being strange or anything, just getting rid of some old newspapers that were cluttering the day room.  And I don’t think she was being sarcastic either, she was a religious person according to her own Asian tradition.  I can’t make you feel this as I felt it, but he came straight back at her (I can’t describe his attitude, except that it wasn’t professional) and he said ‘where’s God?  He’s not in here.’  It was also not a genuine, open question inviting conversation, and none followed.  I felt awful, partly because my own first admission involved a nurse asking me ‘what was happening?’ and when I smiled and said, ‘something to do with heaven, I think’, she dismissed it, saying I was very much on the earth.  Then someone behind me who sounded like Colin Dye (I wrote and asked him, but he never replied) said ‘hmm’, in agreement.  I was on my back on the floor, Toronto style.  I felt hurt, and because I thought it was Colin, still with my eyes closed, I tipped my head back with my throat exposed, and I was thinking ‘I love you’.  At which point the person, whoever it was, was obviously crying and got up and left the room.  He was sniffing back the tears.  I wrote and asked Colin, and I think I might have told him this, but he didn’t answer me, whether I told him everything or not.  This is while I was suspected of a sexual offense on an 8-10 year old boy, a suspicion I didn’t know existed and which took me years to work out, piecing things together.  I have since heard a piece of audio which confirms the existence and origin of the accusation, even down to the use of the mother’s name, my name, and the place where it was supposed to have happened.  And I think the person involved tried to code it to me in the audio that they were sorry, because they realised they were wrong.  But in those days I didn’t understand the code.  That’s if I was even listening.  The only reason I wouldn’t have been would have been if I had been in hospital, and I can’t remember.

For one thing, the Bible is not the only manifestation of the word of God.  There are some things the Bible doesn’t talk about, because they are present day and were not around when the Bible was written.  But we still need God to speak to us about them.

I believe the word of God found in the Bible releases the wisdom of God, and light and understanding, for present day situations.  My experience often is that if I just open the Bible and start to read, something in it will spark understanding of what I am dealing with in my life or open my mind to a different perception.  For instance, this afternoon I decided to read the Bible when I felt I was getting too bothered about the way one of my neighbours is acting towards me.  It opened first to Ezekiel, I think, then to Maccabees (I’m not sure if the spelling is right, I only read the Apocrypha for the first time last year, which was when I decided to buy my first copy of a Bible which included the Apocrypha.  I thought that, if I didn’t believe something, I should at least find out what it was I didn’t believe).  I went past those and ended up in the New Testament at the story of Zacchaeus, and reading that he was a little man trying to see Jesus made me feel a bit differently towards my verbally aggressive neighbour, at least for that moment.

The argument about the origins of our medical knowledge and grave robbing?  I lost it.  Really, it never happened.  At the time I was up in arms at the thoughtless hypocrisy of a medical system with that KIND of illegal foundation treating me as they were for fear that I might myself do something illegal, and so treating me with legal backing, at least, they always said that.  I meant it.  But the nurse I said it to, one P J Charters, turned away from me and gave a dismissive and annoyed laugh to the other staff and said, ‘this makes me really angry’.  But like Tommy would have said, ‘why?  why can’t you just have the conversation?’  Thinking about it, his attitude was an invalidation of me as a person, because that is a serious view which I hold, and it would have been right to deal with it, and with me, with respect.  It’s supposed to be about mental stuff, right?  If you can’t even have such a serious and situationally relevant opinion taken seriously enough to discuss it, how does that help a person’s recovery from illness or trauma?  This man is a contributor to formative writing within the profession.  He is also a Christian belonging to a major London church (Ichthus, Sydenham) which would be in relationship with the leaders of St Barnabas, North Finchley, where the sexual assault accusation came from, and I believe he spoke to at least one leader there and that he knows about it.  One day I was on the concourse between the wards in Guys Hospital, when the wards were there, and somehow we got into the beginning of a conversation, I can’t remember what about, and I ended up saying I was too scared.  Instead of saying ‘OK’, and leaving it, he looked at me and said, ‘are you going to let that stop you?’  While I was sitting there trying to find a way to deal with that, within myself, he just stood there staring at me, then turned away and left the building.  I can’t remember why, I felt he had provoked the situation, and I believe at that point he knew about the accusation, but he never tried to talk to me about it.  When I tried to disengage from his control, he forced it back on me, and once, when he was about to leave, I think I had been afraid to ask him all through his shift if I could talk to him about something and I asked if we could talk, and he said, firmly, ‘tomorrow’.  I was upset by that because I thought it was uncaring and unreasonable, and when tomorrow came, he didn’t look for me to talk about whatever it was, and I was too offended to go to him.  The reason I was upset when he firmly turned away was that I knew I had approached him with normal and appropriate self-possession, and a clear mind and he turned away from me and I felt that my normal, non-dependent presentation had been invalidated.  He was facing off with me.  It was the same day he walked away from me asking if I was going to let fear stop me, I think, that I followed him 5 minutes later to the train station (I was free to come and go), thinking he wouldn’t mind, especially in light of what he had just said to me, and he got off the train and walked back to the hospital, and as he did he shouted at me, ‘there are boundaries, and YOU aren’t allowed over them’.  Did he then have the sexual accusation in mind, the one he never even told me about?  I told him I didn’t want benefits because I wasn’t mentally ill, one day in my flat, and he wouldn’t discuss it, he just said he thought I was, and that he didn’t mind his taxes being spent on looking after me.  But I did, and even then, he offered me no explanation as to why he thought I was mentally ill, and this accusation must have had a bit to do with it.  One day, he turned up at my door, and I had been listening to the radio, knowing that something was going on, but not making written or phone contact at that time, and he asked me who I had been talking to.  I don’t think I had talked to anyone, and I didn’t want to say anything about what was happening on the radio because I knew how they treated that, but I was fairly up and I said, ‘I’ve been talking to the fairies’.  I had no suspicion as to why he would be asking the question and he didn’t give me a reason, but he already knew I believed things were being said on the radio which I hadn’t given them.  There are other people on the wards as well who feel the same way, or rather, know the same thing, but it is insisted to be mental illness.  I suppose he must have been aware himself that something was happening when he asked this question of me, and that he thought it had come from me.  The hospital ward and its staff were often all over the programme, ‘Casualty’, even at that time.  I joked with him once that the charge nurse on Casualty looked like him.  He said a lot of people say that.  I don’t know if lookalikes of all the other staff were on there as they are now.  But I think something like that was behind his question.  I started talking to him, on the doorstep, about the bible saying that brother will betray brother to death, and that that was how I felt about the way the mental health system was being used towards me, and he said he didn’t see it like that.  But he never put the accusations or gave the reasons behind his questions, and I was clueless.  He passed off the lookalike of him on Casualty as a coincidence.

I mean (OK, here we go, my neighbour’s been shouting again, and he’s freaked me.  Should I hold back, with that, and threats of depots (or worse) being made, and no one committing to me?  It’s all words and pleas and linguistic manipulation and theatre, but no one ever says, Sue Barnett, in Bulgaria, we ARE talking to you, we are as desperate as you(!?), please come and see us’, just what feels like threats and intimidation to get me to squeal, from all sides really, sometimes).  I feel as if I am committing the unforgivable sin here, while you mess around with threats and uncommitted pleas.

But as I was saying, I mean, he’s a Christian, right, PJ Charters?  One day he was running a workshop which I attended with one other person, another patient.  This person did most of the talking, it seemed to be the way that PJ wanted it.  He was talking about feeling as if his girlfriend was following him, and a song which kept being played.  Near the end I had a question of my own, and the question was, ‘where does forgiveness come into it?’  Where does forgiveness come into helping you deal with this kind of thing?  He’s a Christian.  He stared at me and didn’t answer.  If he knows anything about what is happening now, neither he nor anyone else has made an effort to communicate that fact, so presumably he is still not taking responsibility.

This is a happy version of me, taken today

1-me-smiling-at-myself-in-the-mirror

This is how I look at someone I feel relaxed with and loved and accepted by and who I also love and realise is amazing. In this case, myself in the mirror!

New Facebook Post

http://www.courtenay-young.co.uk/courtenay/articles/Phenomenological_Psychotherapy.pdf

This is an interesting and informative article found on the website of Courtenay Young, a psychotherapist in the UK.

Abstract
This paper looks at the practice of psychotherapy from a phenomenological approach, covering areas that are not usually within the more traditional ‘bio-psycho-social’ model, but also include economic, political, cultural, and environmental areas, and possibly several others. It further compares the more philosophical and pragmatic approach of a process-oriented practice of psychotherapy to the biomedical ‘treatment’ of psychiatry.
Keywords
Psychotherapy, Phenomenology, Psychiatry, Practice

It is an approach informed by people like R D Laing, Thomas Szasz, Michel Foucault, Jean-Paul Sartre, among many others.  It is in favour of therapeutic communities like Soteria, founded by Leon Mosher.

I like the fact that he says he likes the writing of Zen Buddhist master Thich Nhat Hahn, on mindfulness, as it is more poetical than some other writing, and that he is also on the board for the body and dance in psychotherapy.  It’s not all about words and science.

The article goes a lot into the philosophy of the approach and although it does use some long words, most of them are explained, and he gives several examples of people he has worked with.

There is a section in blue which lists and talks about the the groupings of “mental and behavioural disorders” (his quotes), found in the ICD-10, the International Classification of Diseases (ICD), which is an international standard diagnostic classification for a wide variety of health conditions.  It is used as an example of how a phenomenological model is used in psychiatry.  It’s not very long, the article quickly gets back to its own subject of a phenomenological model for psychotherapy, saying that “phenomenology has come a lot further than when it was first proposed back at the beginning of the 20th century, and it is not just useful as a classification system”.

The article is 21 pages long so is a long read but, as I said, it is very interesting and informative, and you can download it.  I enjoyed it.  It gives a link to his website and his email address at the end.

After the things I have seen and heard today, I am not surprised that some people with psychiatric diagnoses are driven to violence. I, for one, find no way to blame them.
Psychiatry is an abusive system, and so are the media outlets that are involved in targeting vulnerable people with psychological assault, be they secular or religious. If they have become bedfellows may they have joy of each other.
They will be the blind leading the blind, and God will hold them accountable for all the pain and misery they cause and the tyrannies they uphold. It is possible that they might never be brought to account in this life, but there is a life to come and a price to pay. As long as they continue in what they are doing, they themselves will be liable for that price.
I wonder how many other psychiatric patients they have persecuted in the same way, and thus driven them to the atrocities we hear about and the media loves to highlight as caused by ‘mental illness’.
I am in shock and totally grossed out and in despair at what I have just seen, people knowingly packaging stuff together that I have given them, faces wreathed in smiles.
In some ways it would be easy to smile with them. But if I do that, I will be betraying myself and many weaker people who are going through the same thing.
I said years ago that I stand with those who are unjustly called mentally ill, those who have suffered the abuse of both psychiatry and society, including the church, and I still do. We might be a disparate lot, but all of us know what it is to be stripped of our human rights.
I gave them stuff to empower them for people I thought were vulnerable to media stalking because of me, and they have used it against me, while still naming those people in their programmes, packaging names together in ways that makes the group and individuals identifiable to itself. They are fully responsible for their actions in doing that, and have no right to judge or punish me for my response or lack of response. What they are doing is criminal, there are no two ways about it.
The people they are naming are vulnerable because of and TO the naming, not because I let them be named. I have drawn attention to it before, and for my efforts been told my belief it is happening is a symptom of mental illness. It is obvious though, and it is not a symptom of mental illness. I refuse to accept either blame or responsibility for their savagery, and maintain my right to stay separate from those who stalk me, until they contact me in an accountable manner, be they Christian or not. They are breaking my heart and breaking my confidence, but they cannot break my knowledge that what they are doing to me and others is illegal.

Blog Post I Promised My Facebook Friends

THIS IS QUITE A LONG BLOG POST.  I HOPE SOME OF YOU WILL PERSEVERE WITH IT.  THANKS IN ADVANCE.  I VALUE MY READERS.  I VALUE MY ‘STALKERS’ TOO.  IN FACT I WANT TO SAY THANK YOU SO MUCH TO ALL OF YOU.

 

I’ve just been out to Waitrose, and had some lunch, so I’m not in quite the same emotional space I was in when I posted on Facebook this morning.

Last Thursday I posted on Facebook about This Morning.  I said how it started with a house in Lewisham falling down and Holly Willoughby saying Oh my God, and said that I used to live in Lewisham, and that that juxtaposition between OMG and things I identify as having something to do with me or others I know or have known is common.

I looked back at the programme this morning.  Last week it was full of significance for me, as I believed that references were being made to things I had written on Facebook.  But because things have moved on a bit since then, today I couldn’t really remember the connections I made then.

A few weeks ago, 22nd May, to be exact, the anniversary of my father’s death by overdose, I posted a life event about my dad on Facebook.  I had been aware of things on the media that I believed to have been connected with me before this date.

This year, 22nd May was a Sunday.  Dr R T Kendall of Kensington Temple these days, formerly of Westminster Chapel, with both of which I had had a difficult relationship leading up to my first admission onto a psychiatric ward, preached a sermon titled ‘The Party’s Over’.  Retrospectively, he had probably prepared that sermon, and named it, at least a few days before he preached.  But I thought that it was sympathetically connected with my life event post.  Maybe it was, maybe he knew about the post before it was posted this year.  I’ve had it for at least one anniversary before.

Anyway, he was mentioned people in the media, in general, but naming categories.  He also talked about Daniel and Nebuchadnezzar, I think, about vessels having been taken from the temple and used for common purposes, and that that angered God.  One of the things he said was something about the wearing of purple, a royal and priestly colour.  I can’t remember much more than that, but the sermon can be found here.

I felt emotionally involved with this sermon at first because, right at the beginning, he looked straight into the camera and said ‘identify with Daniel’.  I thought he was talking to me, supportively, because in my post I had said that many times in my life I had identified with my father.  I’ve watched that sermon twice now, and I have noticed that that beginning has been cut off.

I’ve said before that I think I’m being stalked.  The people involved might not like my use of that term, but that is what it is.

Anyway, the next day, 23rd May, on This Morning, people were looking around nervously.  I can’t remember anything very much, but I can remember that, at the end of the programme, Rylan Clark-Neal said that they were compromised. Holly Willoughby coughed, it seemed to me significantly.  I didn’t think it was worth mentioning, because it all seemed too obvious and easily explained.  The same day, talking about wearing purple, I watched the BBC1 East Midlands news at 6.30pm, and they were all wearing purple, and one of the newsreaders said that she didn’t know why, but they had all been told to wear purple that day.  It seemed to me obviously connected.

At first, I felt personally attacked by this, and it made me feel angry and alarmed.  Later I thought, it’s just a fight between secular and religious media, and nothing to do with me except for my own identification and recognition  (Neither side wanted me involved.  Neither side really cared about me, if they did they would tell me so through normal, committed communication like an email or a phone call.  And they didn’t, and don’t). I thought that Kensington Temple was being paranoid and alarmist over what might be seen as a quite ordinary referential challenge.  It was just a media scrap, if they didn’t like it, they didn’t have to watch, they could just get on with the job without taking notice of their detractors.  But I wrote to them, through their website, and among other things, asked if Dr Kendall wanted to see me.  They didn’t even answer.  I found that rude, and it made me anxious.  So many times I make contact and get no answer.  These days I am reasonable and try to be friendly, and they don’t even answer that, except in pointed and contextualised references in their sermons and radio programmes.

Anyway, briefly back to This Morning of 9th June.  When I watched it again today I felt much of what they were doing was making metaphors.  Recently Holly makes me laugh, I find her quite amusing, but I feel also she is quite vicious.  The Old Testament says, ‘don’t be afraid of their faces’.  I have felt intimidated by her apparent sweetness, but she says some horrible things behind that.  I have expressed anxiety about writing openly about what I think for fear of being put back on medication, and in this programme she was talking about someone and hospital, and it came up twice, and both times she made a face and said ‘Oh no’, and I felt it was cruel mockery aimed at me.

(My, this is draining!  For one thing, the WordPress writing frame keeps slipping upwards so it looks as if my post has disappeared.  I keep imagining it might be someone hacking while I am writing and trying to disrupt me.  In truth it is probably a software issue.  I hope so anyway.)

I was just looking for something in Monday 13th’s episode of This Morning.  I started watching from the beginning, and when I got to about 33 minutes 40 seconds in, where they are talking about rain with someone who predicts weather (I thought he was a gardener, but he seems to be more than that) Holly quite deliberately shouted ‘woohoo’, and I thought she had got it out of the post on Facebook which I posted on Saturday, in fact I’m quite sure she did.  But that wasn’t what I was looking for.  What I was looking for came up a few minutes later, after 37 minutes 40 seconds in . . .

I had an experience with someone who came to repair my boiler a few weeks ago.  At the end of repairing my boiler we had a conversation in the kitchen over coffee and a biscuit (one of my own home made ones), and everything he said, every place name, had significance for me.  I can only remember two of them, but I just kept nodding along at him thinking ‘Oh yes, there’ and Oh yes, there’.  The two I remember are Middlesbrough and Toronto, both places where Church ministers from my past came from.  But it wasn’t just two places, it was many.  Anyway, I was watching Monday 13th’s episode of This Morning and I had the strong impression that Holly just had one of those moments.  The man she and Phillip Schofield were talking to said something like ‘I’m OK, I’ve got form’.  I heard that and it felt like a revelation, and I stared at Holly and I thought she reacted.  I just watched it again and it doesn’t seem so marked now right at that point, but at the end of the interview Holly’s eyes are like saucers.  I think she might have said something similar behind the scenes.  Or someone did.  Perhaps.  I’ve even thought things like that myself when I’ve watched KT live, that I’m OK, I don’t have to give in.  It’s a great bit of power tripping.

Tea break.

When I was in Bulgaria between 2009 and 2011, I started hearing a woman’s voice from the flat upstairs, so it seemed, shouting hallelujah.  It drove me wild.  It was almost incessant, and I would rant and rave using Google Translate, which isn’t very reliable.  It or my reaction or both made me very ill.  I used to have chest pains and vomiting.  It happened in a few places, always directly where I was living, never followed me away from the building.  Which is partly why I wonder if it really was an hallucination, as my psychiatrists insisted.  It came to the attention of the psychiatrists because I started hearing the same thing when I was in emergency accommodation in Nottingham, and I called the police several times.  Once I turned them away because I thought they were rude to me. Eventually, the police called the mental health team, and one of the officers who turned up with the team was the one who was rude to me.  He was quite controlling on the scene.

Anyway, about 2 or 3 months ago, not having experienced it for quite some time, I started to hear a woman’s voice saying hallelujah again, and it seemed to be coming from next door.  It only lasted for two weeks.  This time I didn’t rant and rave.  I also didn’t believe it was an hallucination.  I believed it was some sort of spiritual manifestation, the source of which I was uncertain.  I was alternately angry at it, scared of it, desperate, grateful.  I prayed that it would stop.  After it did, I felt as if I had lost something, it was like grief.  Just towards the end of it I tuned in to Kensington Temple’s live service one afternoon when Bruce Atkinson was speaking.  He was talking about the woman who came to Jesus for her daughter to be healed.  She wasn’t Jewish, and Jesus told her He had only been sent to Israel, and it wasn’t right to give the children’s bread to dogs.  I kept hearing things I identified with from my experience at KT, and I was inwardly holding on, asking God to help me, as well as arguing with what I was seeing and thinking it wasn’t that impressive, as Bruce kept talking and staring into the camera, as if something kept drawing him to it.  They put a version of that sermon on the website, but it wasn’t that version.  In the version on the website Bruce seems to be trying to avoid looking at the camera.  I think it was the next week that Colin Dye came on, and at the beginning of the recording he looked into the camera and gave a little smile, and started talking about quantum physics, and how he didn’t understand it, but came back to art.  I thought he was talking about ME coming back to art in posting William Blake’s ‘The Sick Rose’ on my blog.  I don’t know, they seem to have used things from my blog before.

At some point after this, I think, he said that ‘they are going to start using dogs with her, I wonder how she will deal with that’ or some such words.  Shortly after this Phillip and Holly, having experienced something strange, I think, in the studio (can’t sound too definite, they might put me away again.  Even for this they might put me back on medication.  I’m taking a big risk), started to feature Clover, their guide dog in training, a lot.  I had been watching live, I think, then I started watching on ITV +1, an hour behind.  One day, Phillip started commanding the dog to sit.  He did this right at the beginning and exactly an hour into the programme.  He looked frightened, to me.  Once when he did this one of the light bulbs blew.  I know this can be what some people call a psychic occurrence.  I had a music teacher who became a bishop, and I read an article about him which said he walked into a room and things happened with the electricity.  Phillip, whether he made the connection or not, just said that bulbs blew all the time.  I made the connection, though.  I might have been wrong myself, but it was some coincidence, if I was.  One day, he looked into the camera and stuttered over the word ‘superfood’, orsomething else beginning with the first syllable of my name.  I thought it was a deliberate stutter and that he was trying to say ‘Sue’.  I’ve thought about it since, and decided he could have had anything in mind.  He might have been thinking ‘supernatural’, for instance.  Or it might just have been a nervous, meaningless stutter.  I’ve not heard him stutter before though.  (To my nurses, there is a history behind these assumptions I don’t want to go into, this post is going to be long enough without that.  I’m wondering if I’m ever going to get to the end of it).

I saw they were distressed, and thought they were trying to help me.  So I tweeted Phillip one day and said I felt for them and was touched by the fact they were trying to help me, or words to that effect, and that I thought the reason for their distress was that they were doing something occultic with the Clover, and asked who she represented when he commanded her like that.  He said a few times he didn’t know what I was going on about and that I was talking nonsense, and ended up saying, ‘I’m sure you are really sweet, but you are now blocked’.  And that was that.  I think what he was doing with Clover, occultic or not, was because he was afraid of something else.  I was angry about something I had seen on the show and something they were promoting as normal which I believe shouldn’t be, and I think my anger had what might be called by some a psychic energy which was holding them in a bad place.  I wouldn’t let go for some days and was pleased at every sign that they seemed to be losing it.  I have wanted to apologise for that several times.  I thought the right way would have been to keep watching and complain to Ofcom if I didn’t like something I saw.  Within a day or 2 of me thinking that, Phillip came on laughing and said they gave Ofcom plenty of business.  I don’t think it was a simple coincidence.  Anyway, dogs abounded after that.  Andrea McLean on Loose Women, which I also watch, reacted to a bark a few weeks ago by saying something like, ‘that’s right, take it out, we don’t want any accidents’.  It wasn’t a real dog, obviously, it was a miked up bark, staged.  It felt psychologically violent.

On This Morning they were celebrating Clover’s first birthday on Monday, and had a load of dogs in.  I happened to turn on, on ITV +1, at just the time when they appeared for the 2nd time.  The first time was just after Piers Morgan and someone else had been on with Holly and Phillip talking about Orlando, but I hadn’t seen that.   I just saw the dogs let loose, and lost the plot.  I didn’t take anything else in after that.

The Monday before they had featured Mersea, where John Pantry lives, who works at Premier Radio and used to be one of my Facebook friends.  Fairly soon after they showed someone called the same name that came up for me while listening to another radio presenter quite a few years ago.  I can’t remember what motivated me, but after I saw the dogs this Monday, I wrote an email to both John Pantry and Colin Dye, telling them about this.  I thought something might need to be done about it, and that they needed to watch the recording, before it was taken down.  In the end, it was there until midnight.  In the meantime, I was uncertain as to whether or not John and Colin would receive the email in time, so I sent it to the live studio as well.  Then I regretted it, and sent a copy of the email and its forwarding to someone else I had emailed over the weekend, because I thought he was in touch with the person I had mentioned in the email and I wanted to warn and protect that person.  Later I thought that, really, my trust was a dubious honour, and possibly overpowering for this person (I also thought that, in the state I was in, I was making far too much of what I had seen and heard, and he thought I was nuts and he wasn’t interested.  I thought Premier and Kensington Temple would have the same opinion.  Maybe they do).  He didn’t email me back.  I don’t know why he did this, but he told Phillip and Holly, because I had mentioned them in the email.  On Tuesday Holly was cavorting all over the screen with veiled references to this email, and she also mentioned someone who had lost a couple of stones and her friends asked her if she was putting it back on, then she did this really violent jerk with her arm, and I felt terrified.  I have mentioned on Facebook that I have lost weight, and I thought she was cursing me.  I thought she was a witch in full flight.  At the end of the recording, totally distracted and barely able to focus, I tried to reorientate myself by posting a link to a radio play, then I went to bed, still frightened, then after I got into bed, I started to laugh.  I felt loved up.   I felt amazing.  Holly had been smiling all the time she was doing this.  That was when I started to find her funny.  I thought last Thursday that the way she opened her eyes wide and batted her eyelids was false and I hated it and I hated her, but I found if I did the same it cleared my perceptions and negative feelings.  I can’t remember if that was before or after Tuesday.  Anyway, the loved up and laughing bit, I felt it was inappropriate given the nature of what I had communicated in my email.  I tried to put a stop to it.  Then yesterday, on Loose Women, Ruth Langsford, who is also a This Morning presenter, said that she was ‘ashamed’ of something, and coughed significantly.  I hadn’t said that I felt ashamed in the email to Premier Radio and Colin Dye at Kensington Temple, but I had to this other person.

In the email I had said that I thought they were after me and the Church, and that all was fair in love and war.  On Tuesday, Dara O’Briain was on with Hugh Dennis, on This Morning again, and they were both grinning from ear to ear, and one of them said, ‘she thinks it’s fair’.  One of them said something about open heart surgery.  For me, that was a bit what it was like, I suppose.

I’ve been thinking, though.  When I said all’s fair in love and war, I didn’t mean things like stalking someone’s social media account to reflect back to them, especially when that person isn’t in the public eye.  I have thought I was willing to tolerate it (Stockholm Syndrome?), but what about other individuals who are also not public people who are experiencing the same thing?  I keep thinking it’s not about me, and being relieved every time I think it.  However, I think I am wrong.  They even mentioned a road that has the same beginning of its name as mine yesterday, and put quite an emphasis on it.  I have 2 neighbours, one partially sighted and the other who goes around bare chested.  References to them were put together in Sunday Brunch this week (Channel 4), as was a reference to my email that I sent on Saturday, and a comment about someone having the heart of a dog, and emotional looks.  I sent the presenters a chat message saying they had spoken to the man I emailed and goodness knows who else, and asked them what they wanted and where we were going.  According to my Facebook account, they haven’t even looked at it yet.  It has been going on with them for some time.  On Pentecost Sunday they featured meditation and a linguist talking about languages and making them up.  OK, if they want to, they can fight like that, it’s not illegal.  But they had Michaela Strachan on recently, someone who is a friend of this presenter I listened to years ago and met a few times.  The first time was good, the rest he pretended not to remember me.  Yet he sat and talked with me in his car for half an hour and drove me to the station.  His wife remembered me, though.  I was telling my nurse Pete yesterday, that the last time I went she tore me off a strip, took my phone number and said her husband would be in touch if he was interested.  I’ve decided not to go back as they obviously don’t want to know.  Although I would like to believe differently, I see the constant songs and references that I associate with him and his calling me as being chain yanking.  And as lovely as I think he is, I think he deliberately used to torture me psychologically.  I think he had ‘psychic’ insight into me as well, particulars at particular times.  I used to feel we had telepathic communication, he would often come on his programme saying something I felt we had shared telepathically earlier in the week.  He used to talk about his dog.  I used to think it was a backwards way of saying ‘my God’, and I was offended.  I also thought he was referring to me, as often when I tuned in he would start talking about walking his dog, immediately.  So the dog reference is not a new one.  One day I lay in bed listening to him with my back to the radio, because I felt closer to him and more able to listen that way.  He said, ‘my dog has started turning its back on us, it feels closer to us that way’.  I think something I said once is being used as emotional blackmail.  I think Ruth Langsford referred to it yesterday on Loose Women when she was ostensibly talking about her son Jack, and talking about apologising.  I already have, and meant it.  I wish I wanted to again.  I have recently been willing to open up to the possibility of meeting him again.  In my mind, there is a war between him and the Church.  But until recently I had decided I had moved on from him, that he had deliberately abused me, and that I was wrong to look to him in the first place.  But the fact is, I took a resting place with him when there was absolutely no way I could hold myself together in Church and didn’t feel safe going.  It wasn’t rebellion, it was respite.  That’s how it felt, anyway.  Once I was afraid even to speak, and there was no way I could have written like this, or tweeted, or gone on Facebook.  I doggedly (sorry, no pun intended, I can’t think of the other word) took the tools and attitudes he offered and rebuilt my ability to communicate.  I feel, rightly or wrongly, that I owe him.  Defiantly, was the word I was looking for.

In the meantime, I haven’t heard from Kensington Temple following this email, or from John Pantry or anyone else at Premier.  In the email I said to John that I had got the impression that he wanted to be involved.  On his show the next day he said ‘you can be involved’, then started talking about bipolar, I think it was, putting together a reference to what I had said with a reference to ‘mental illness’.  I feel if I go back to Church, it’s something I am going to have brought against me every time I’m perceived to be out of line.  I think Premier is withholding programme recordings as well.  I unfriended John last Friday because he was answering things I put on his timeline then, when I answered, he cleared them off.  I felt hurt by this so unfriended him, I thought it was against me.  I have since thought he might just be one of those people who likes to keep a tidy timeline and does the same thing with a lot of people.  But anyway, Monday’s Inspirational Breakfast is not available.  The other week they had almost a total lockdown on programme availability, they have since restored some, but not all.  I emailed a show the other week, and I later looked for the recording so I could listen back (the man read my email out and commented on it), but it isn’t available.  I asked both John Pantry and Rick Easter, both Premier presenters who were Facebook friends until I unfriended them, if they knew what was happening with the programme recordings and why they were not available, and John cleared the question off his timeline without answering, not even to say he didn’t know, and Rick just ignored the question.  I don’t know who they are hiding from.  There is definitely something going on.

I have said for years that I don’t want to be in a Church that calls the police on people and accepts psychiatric labels against people’s wishes.  I have heard a lot about good disagreement lately on Premier, and other stuff like that.  Teaching children to manage their emotions and emphasising that you are there for them and will handle it together, instead of focusing so much on the idea of discipline.  Hearing that kind of thing, it’s making me feel that it is I who am being a terrorist in my refusal to go to a church where the police might be called, that I am the one who is using emotional and spiritual blackmail.  I feel all my years lost in my life and in the Church are all my own fault.  At one time I was so confused by the fact that all the wards had Biblical names, I thought my answers were all to be found in hospital.  That’s where I would recover my power of self-determination (watch this come up in a sermon).  And yet, I know the Church has been – stalking me, I call it, I don’t know what they call it – for years.

It’s just occurred to me, I don’t know how the programmes that have featured references to my road name and allusions to my neighbours have got the information,  I haven’t said anything about either in my blog.  The blind allusion has come up several times, I’ve only this week noticed the one about bare-chestedness.  I don’t think, again, that it is simple coincidence.

I think yesterday morning, on Inspirational Breakfast, John said something about not being too cruel, she is vulnerable.  I thought that was for me.  But my goodness, I wish they would realise that their refusal to answer my emails properly makes me feel most vulnerable of all.  It messes with my head and perceptions big time.

When I was in hospital last time I got involved with the chaplaincy service.  One day I spoke to the alternative religion person who said to me that sometimes coincidences come so thick and fast and from so many directions, there has to be a big intelligence behind it and it can’t be by human organisation.  I took that and believed it.  But now I’ve married it to a renewed belief that I am also, as I have maintained before, being stalked.

The fact that I have done something wrong does not make it OK to abuse me.  Once I believed it was OK, the stalking, the being called a dog, the psychological abuse (but Oh, how grateful I sometimes thought I was).  But now, I usually have more self-respect.  If that makes me appear cynical and unfeeling to the people who have received my emails recently, I am sorry.  I know desperation can make people do some terrible things, and I hesitate to say that those I say are stalking me are the cynical ones, but it does feel that way sometimes.  Yesterday I wanted to contact Colin Dye and say, ‘I thought they loved me, but they don’t, do they?’  I wouldn’t dare though.  I can’t bear more words coming through my computer and no response to my emails.  But I will bear it.  The alternative is a vacuum.  To some that might be peace.  It is to me sometimes, but most of the time I think I can’t live like that.

Well, it is 7.30 pm and today’s This Morning is not available yet.  That is very unusual.  It is normally there by 4 pm.  (edit note: eventually it appeared around 10 am the day after I wrote this post).

Update 09.06.2016

These days I can be found a lot of the time at https://www.facebook.com/sue.barnett.547.  I hope you will come and connect with me there.  I will continue to post on here occasionally.  This is a pinned post, so please scroll down a couple for my latest entries.

And if my nurses are reading this, please respect the fact that this is my SPACE.  As one of my lecturers once said to me, I can say what I like.  None of it should find its way into a clinical decision or into my notes, as it has done before.  If you MUST stalk me, please keep a respectful distance between this and our offline relationship.  I reserve the right to say what I like on the internet, whether you think you should respect that or not.  I have had this conversation with one of you, and you said you would have to look into the legalities of it.  I think the legalities are, if you don’t like what you read on my blog, stop reading.  If they aren’t, they should be.  I’m sick of censoring myself out of fear of consequences.

Yesterday Was My Birthday

Yesterday I was 55.  Some of my Facebook friends wished me happy birthday, which was nice, and Peter and Jennie, my two nurses, took me out for lunch and gave me a card and two bars of Lindt chocolate, which Jennie knows I like.  I asked Jennie a while ago if we could go out for my birthday and she said yes.  As I have said before, in real life they are the closest thing I have to friends at the moment.  I wouldn’t have celebrated my birthday at all without them.

Because of my antipsychiatry beliefs I actually have an ambivalent relationship with them which isn’t altogether comfortable.  I am aware of their clinical relationship with me, and resentful of it, and feel I have to be careful what I communicate at this time while I am almost at the end of coming off my medication.  It is quite confusing trying to relate to them as friends.  Peter, especially, seems to have that role towards me deliberately as we meet for coffee every week, but also with Jennie, I offer her coffee when she comes to do my depot and she accepts and we sit and chat and watch television.

My anger at their clinical involvement is never far below the surface, and I wish that involvement didn’t exist.  I realise by saying this I open myself to a charge of ingratitude.  They didn’t have to take me out yesterday or help in all the ways they have this year.  But the reality is that the basic nature of my relationship with them is clinical, and I feel strongly against that.

I’m sure it must be difficult for them as well.  They know how I feel about the clinical side of things but, especially for Jennie, it is part of her job.

Someone in Speak Out Against Psychiatry said they are only nice because I’m being compliant.  If I weren’t they might want to put me back in hospital, although at this stage, where my last depot is due just after Christmas, that might not be the case.  But certainly a lot earlier on it might have been.  I get the feeling we are keeping each other sweet.

It would be nice to think there is some real friendship there, but there is no way it can be fully expressed, that is the nature of this kind of professional relationship.  I am sure a real fondness exists, at least on my part, and regardless of the resentment and anger.  And fear, I should say fear too.  It is frustrating.  In spite of what I want to feel, I feel subjugated.  The clinical relationship is the only reason that any relationship exists, and I am totally against the clinical relationship.

It was nice to go out for my birthday, though.  I hope if they read this they will understand and not be offended.

Strongly Suggested Reading

Last night I revisited my posts on Highbury Hospital, where I had a very distressing time.  I hope you will read them and gain an insight into what goes on behind closed doors in a psychiatric hospital, in terms of bullying and abuse.  I especially hope any Christians who are prepared to urge members of their congregation to seek help here and think they are qualified to assess someone as needing psychiatric ‘help’ will read them and see what it is really like.

I can’t understand why Christians would see psychiatry as a good thing, since over 100 years ago psychiatry declared war on Christianity and religion.  I have written in another post how Thomas Szasz said in at least one of his books that turning a person over to psychiatry is akin to witch hunters in centuries past ‘relaxing’ their victims into the hands of the state so they could be put to death.  I hope and pray and plead for you to see sense.

Psychiatry is not Christianity’s friend, nor is it humanity’s friend.  When a spiritual organisation turns a member over to the police and psychiatry it is an act of betrayal.  I am afraid of churches these days, not only because of my own betrayals, but because the church gives up on people and turns them over to the state, when they express distress, instead of trusting a loving spiritual involvement.  Patience and forgiveness and empathy give place to psychiatry and harmful drugs and inhuman bullying.

I no longer expect to find a church which is antipsychiatry and has no time for psychiatry, as psychiatry is fundamentally anti Christian experience.  I expect the church to attack me with a belief in psychiatry and to hurt me by upholding decisions that have been made about me.

For the posts on Highbury Hospital just click on the tag of the same name at the bottom of this post.  Please be prepared for a long read.  I trust your perseverance and respect will be rewarded.

Spiritual Rape

I noticed that ‘what is spiritual rape’ was a search term used to arrive at my blog, so I put it in myself, to see what came back.  I looked at the first 14 pages on Google and my blog wasn’t there, but I found this blog post https://hemofhisgarment.wordpress.com/spiritual-rape/.

I have been looking back at some of my posts which definitely make me look as if I am mentally ill, and I have been thinking that they might invalidate anything I have to say.  But this post that I have posted the link for says that mental illness is a common result of spiritual rape as the person becomes confused and paranoid, and the writer says they believe that mental illness is an evidence that this sort of abuse has taken place.

So if my tortured posts are evidence of trauma and abuse I hope my readers will value them as such and not dismiss everything I have to say because of them.

I don’t believe spiritual rape takes place only in the church.  I believe psychiatry itself is spiritual rape, and it can and does happen both in the home and in the world in general.  If I am disappointed in the post, it is because of its failure to recognise this.  I have experienced serious trauma in my family, in the church and in psychiatry, and in the world at large.  I don’t know which has been worst.  I hope you will read the post yourself and see what you think.

Update 31.08.2015

Hello readers, I’m sorry I don’t write so much these days.  Now that I’m not fending for myself in Bulgaria, not homeless and not in hospital I tend not to feel the same urgency to ‘get things out there’, and life has become a bit boring.

I have decided to diet and exercise more.  I have a treadmill which I have decided to use for an hour a day.  I missed yesterday and the day before, but I pretty much stuck to my intention last week.  The nurse I have coffee with told me that it is better to have two half-hour sessions because that boosts your metabolism twice in a day.  I’ve stopped buying chocolate and crisps when I order my shopping, for two weeks now, and I’ve been getting some really intense chocolate cravings.  Sometimes if I am out, like Thursdays with my nurse, I’ll treat myself to something chocolatey, but since I don’t really go out much it’s not too big a problem.

My medication has been decreased with a view to tapering off altogether.  I’m on 20mg of Depixol at the moment.  I seem to be stable still during the day, but my dreams are very chaotic and vivid, I don’t know if that is a withdrawal symptom.  Things are very settled with my neighbours.  We don’t see much of each other and most of the time it is very quiet.  There is one man who often brings my bin back in on a Wednesday.  I don’t know why he does it, I haven’t asked him.  I sort of wish he wouldn’t.

My other nurse, Jennie, who does my depot usually, took me to Ikea the other week so I could buy a wardrobe.  We found a nice big one for somewhere between £100 and £200.  It is the size of two regular wardrobes put together.  That has meant I’ve been able to empty my bags that were stacked on the floor.  It’s nice to have easy access to my clothes again.  I’ve got two bags of clothes that need to go to a clothes bank because they are spoiled.  They are sitting in the otherwise empty side of the wardrobe, when they are gone I’ll be able to hang some more stuff up.  Jennie is going to take me to a clothes bank on Friday.  I’m a bit upset that moths seem to have got to some of my favourite clothes and left holes in two kaftans and a sweater.

Other than all that mundane stuff I am trying to contribute towards the campaign to free Raif Badawi (see my pinned post).  There are campaigners who go and protest outside embassies every Friday, which is the designated day for flogging him.  He has not been flogged since January, though.  No reason has recently been given for this cessation.  His case is back under review and people are hopeful that that is good news.

That’s it for today.  Maybe I’ll try and make my life more eventful then I should be able to write more frequently!

Suggested Reading

I have just been reading through my entries tagged Highbury Hospital, and it brought back memories.  I had an awful time there.  I would like to direct new readers (and old) to those posts.  It was not a healing atmosphere, and I believe I was very victimised there, probably in retaliation for my blog and speaking out.  Please read some of them and leave comments.  Click on Highbury Hospital in my tag cloud a little way down on the right.

Coffee With My Nurse

Every Thursday one of my nurses and I go out for coffee, it’s part of the social inclusion programme.  He’s a nice man, his name is Pete.  He helped me out practically when I first moved in here.  We talk about a lot of things, including religion.  This week religion came up because I said I hadn’t heard anything about Raif Badawi this week.  Raif is the writer and activist in Saudi Arabia who has been sentenced to 10 years in prison and 1,000 lashes for his blog on free speech and liberalism in which he criticised some of the clerics, which was taken as an insult to Islam.  (For a petition by Amnesty International seeking to get this stopped please see here).

Pete said it was terrible what was being done in the name of religion, and said the Church used to do the same thing with its witch trials, for example.  The subject of demon possession came up, and I told him about my experiences of being told either that I was demon possessed or that I was ‘heavily demonised’.

The time I was told I was demon possessed was when I was a 12 year old girl in 1973.  I had lost my frightening father to suicide the year before.  Two of the elders of the church I was going to told me that I was demon possessed because I stared too much.  I suppose I did stare.  I stared particularly at one of them, because he was my father’s age and musical like my father, and I wanted to be a part of their family, informally.  He was a father figure.  The other elder – no, deacon – his wife told me that the man I saw as a father figure just saw me as a silly little girl.  They must have thought I fancied him or something (he was 38, I was 12, he was married with 3 children).  When they first tried to pray for me they decided I didn’t want help and told me I wasn’t to go back until I wanted help.  I think they also told me I couldn’t have communion.  The second time they prayed for me the deacon was bothered that I had practised a prayer instead of just praying on the spot, but the man I saw as a father figure said he felt good about it.  Apparently they saw a mouse which I didn’t see, and they told me the demons had gone into the mouse.  All I knew was that I wasn’t allowed to get close to the people I wanted, and I was hurt and upset, and frightened.  That fear left me briefly about 20 years ago, but it quickly came back when I was disrespected at the church I was going to in London.

At the church I went to in London, St Barnabas, Woodside Park in North Finchley, soon after my first experience in a mental hospital, I was so traumatised I was shouting when I was afraid.  I asked the vicar, who at that time was John Coles, what he would tell God when He asked him why he called the police on me, and John said he would say that he was dealing with someone who was ‘heavily demonised’.

I told Pete about both of these experiences and he said about the first one that I was obviously traumatised and they should have been dealing with trauma, not performing an exorcism.  He said it was child abuse, which I agree with.  David Shearman once told me he had been angry when he found out about it.  Unfortunately his anger did not relieve my pain and fear.  I lived for years worrying about demons, and looking into the mirror and seeing something evil in my eyes.  I can’t remember what Pete said about the second time, in London, that I had this forced on me.  But he said it all sounded medieval.  He also said that he thought people were like a piano, with all the notes available, and you just decide what you are going to play.

My worry is, have I misrepresented the Church?  They meant well, didn’t they?  Although I find that hard to believe, given how much anger was expressed.

I looked up the two people involved when I was 12.  One of them died in 2012 (the man whose family I wanted to be part of), and the other is an elder in a Christian Fellowship somewhere.  I didn’t recognise him but I recognised his wife, easily.

This post is two interviews given by Monica Cassani on Nonduality Talk. I find I resonate with a lot that she says. She talks about her own experiences in the mental health system in America, and about her pursuit of healing Beyond Meds, which is the title of her regularly maintained blog. Each interview is about 55 minutes long and well worth listening to.

I Might Be Wrong, I Might Be Right

I heard this song on Radio 2 this evening, I Might Be Wrong, I Might Be Right, and thought about what seems to be the difference between the psychiatric position and my own.  They say the voice I heard piping or screaming hallelujah repeatedly was definitely, an auditory hallucination and are prepared to forcibly inject me with brain damaging drugs on that basis. Whereas I am at least prepared to entertain the idea that it might have been an overwrought imagination.  The voice sounded real enough and it burned right through me.

The trouble is, neither I nor the psychiatric team have asked other neighbours whether they heard anything.  The difference between the psychiatric team and myself is that I see the desirability of finding out and the psychiatric team doesn’t, they think their academic knowledge is all that is needed.  In reality, they have less of a basis for judging it as an auditory hallucination than I have for believing it to be real.  For one thing, it was limited to the place I was living, it didn’t follow me around outside.  If it was an hallucination I would have expected it wouldn’t be limited to the building.  I don’t know what their thinking is on that .

But they think they can decide that something is hallucinatory without reference to the reality of other people who would certainly also have heard it if it wasn’t.  That is arrogance.  When I was living as homeless in Lincoln many years ago there was a loud bang on the ceiling above my bed.  There was another woman there in the other bed and I asked her if she had heard it and she said yes, and that it was above my bed.  The psychiatrists don’t check things out that way, and that is unscientific.

They have no basis for deciding that something is real or imaginary since they don’t refer to the reality of other people’s experience around me.  The  best they can legitimately say is that they might be wrong, they might be right, but they go beyond that  to justify depriving me of my freedom back in 2012 and on previous admissions, and forcing drugs on me.  At least they seem to go beyond it.  If they don’t, what is the foundation for their actions?  You can’t open yourself up safely to people who are so adamant, and yet they accuse me of being guarded and only having superficial conversations.  As far as I am concerned no one has the right to expect deep conversation from other people, especially not from people held and drugged against their wishes with unanswered community questions.  I think them calling ME guarded is projection anyway.  I have seen enough evidence of their own guardedness.

Bad Experiences

I was 11 when my father died at his own hands.  I don’t really know if it was suicide, it might have been a call for help and attention that backfired.  I know it left me without a strong hand at home.  The family fell to pieces.  I stopped going to school because I thought, ‘I don’t want to go so I’m not going’, and no one challenged that strongly enough.  My mother didn’t have enough authority to get me to go, and I was being bullied at school, so I lay in bed reading mainly Christian paperbacks.

My first experience of a Pentecostal church came when I was about 12 or 13.  A van with a megaphone came round my street advertising a crusade, and I decided to go.  It was an odd experience, with people saying loud ‘hallelujahs’ and ‘praise the Lords’ while a person on the platform was speaking.  I thought it was rude.

Eventually a man came to my attention who was the same age as my father and was also musical, as my father had been, and I used to watch him as he played a Hawaiian guitar.  I used to want to be a part of his family.  I let it be known that I liked him, and eventually one of the leaders or the leader’s wife told me that he thought I was just a silly little girl, as if I was sexually motivated (bearing in mind he was 38 and I was 12 or 13).

Very soon after this they decided I was demon possessed because I stared too much.  One week they told me I wasn’t welcome unless I wanted help, and that I was to go away and only come back when I wanted help.  I went back the next week, and they prayed for me to cast demons out,  It wasn’t pleasant, they found fault with me for praying a prayer that I had practised.  The man I liked was one of the people praying for me, another male leader was another,  They told me the demons had gone into a mouse they had seen but I hadn’t.  They left me afraid and traumatised.  I used to look into my own eyes in the mirror and think that I could see something evil in them.  I kept praying that God wouldn’t let me become demon possessed again, because I believed the things they had said to me.  I just needed a father figure, and I was completely misunderstood.

I’ve never really recovered from that time, the pain has never really gone away.  There was a woman at Talbot Street, where I ended up going shortly after David Shearman came to the church I’ve been talking about, who said I had caused problems in Andrew and David Shearman’s marriages.  When I told David that he said she wasn’t doing God’s work.  I don’t remember that he denied what she had said though.

In London the teaching I received about demons was that they attach when people are vulnerable, as in infancy or at a time of trauma, and that a simple prayer of deliverance was what was needed to remedy the situation, and also prayer for healing and filling with the Holy Spirit in place of the demons.  I believed this teaching.  Some people would say that what some people call demons is actually psychological or psychiatric.  People talk about coming to terms with their demons, not recognising a need or possibility of deliverance, and not talking about real demons in the first place.  The Pentecostal and Charismatic traditions believe and recognise that demonisation and deliverance are real, and these have been my background since I was 12 years old, the background I am now estranged from.  Over the last 20 years I have been accused of witchcraft by other Christians on many occasions.  That’s where I will leave this entry.  It’s all very painful and sore.

Beginnings and Endings

Tomorrow my tenancy starts in my new home, but I won’t be moving in immediately.  I still need to decorate and I’m going to see if I can get some volunteers for that, but I’ve never decorated and have no idea about things like how many pots of paint I am going to need.  I have been awarded 45 points by the council to buy decorating stuff with, but their colours are very limited and a bit boring (I love the way the WordPress site puts a squiggly red line under ‘colours’ spelt the English way! It doesn’t like ‘spelt’ either!)

The idea is that I should erect a shed in the garden to store the stuff that won’t fit inside my bungalow.  It would be a metal shed, which is both cheaper and more secure than wooden, apparently, but it will still be very expensive and security will be a constant worry.  I had wasps in my kitchen last week, they were coming down the boiler flue, and the man who came round to sort them out commented that the back was open to intruders, being on the corner with nothing beside.  I’ve been in that situation before, before the new houses were built next door to me in London, and I was burgled several times.  It’s not a nice feeling.  I woke up one morning to find someone in my bedroom.  But he broke in through the front door.

I’m looking forward to moving in now, but the shortage of money makes it a time of great anxiety for me.  If it weren’t for the fact that I need to buy a shed I would be OK, but I’m just short of what it is estimated I will need for that.  At the moment I am waiting for the outcome of a budgeting loan application, and I expect that to take another 3 weeks to come through.  In the meantime I have a discharge meeting on Tuesday, and I’m hoping they will give me longer than just two weeks to move in.

I’ve called this post ‘Beginnings and Endings’.  Obviously it will be a new beginning in the bungalow, and an end to nearly two years and five months in hospital, and an end on three years homeless, but that wasn’t what I had in mind when I named my post.

By endings I was thinking about the end of life.  I’m 53, which isn’t old, but it is still the wrong side of half way through my life.  I’ve been thinking I don’t want to grow old alone.  I have no partner, I have no children.  My mother has arthritis and uses a wheelchair.  Apart from her shopper and her cleaner I am the only person she sees, every two weeks, which is how she wants it.  I’ve been thinking about suicide as an alternative to getting very old and dragging myself around lonely and in pain. Lately I’ve been thinking about Dignitas.  I’ve been thinking about them because I wouldn’t know how to commit suicide myself, I wouldn’t have the tablets and I can’t see me hanging myself, I don’t think I’d do a good job of ending my life.  I’ve also thought how unnatural it seems to me that an organisation like Dignitas exists to help people to die.  I don’t know if they exist for anything else.

I’m a bit confused.   I’ve been seeing old people out and about and they seem OK, talking to each other on the bus.  Many of them seem mobile enough.  But I feel a general despair because I don’t think I have any friends and I don’t think that, at my age, I can make the kind of friends who would be able to stand in for lifetime friends, of which I have none.  I think my last years will be very, very lonely.  I don’t have much hope at the moment about anything.  I think boredom is going to be a longstanding problem for me, and I can’t see the point of hanging around for that.  I also don’t fancy the idea of a care home, which might be a necessity later on.  Ever since the mental health services got involved in my life I have felt insecure and that I have no reliable freedom, I don’t want to end my days in care.  I don’t want to drag my way through the last years of my life subject to situations I don’t want to be in.

I’m not planning to do anything at the moment.  I was thinking maybe some time in my 60s.  I’m not sure if I could if it actually came down to it, but I’m not so afraid of the idea of ending my life as I once was.  I am afraid of the possibility  of vandalism and intrusion in my new home and whatever future home I establish, thinking of Bulgaria.  I don’t want to live out my life subject to those things, I don’t want to be in fear of things being spoilt all the time, and mental health teams and police refusing to take it seriously.  Saying I’m having auditory hallucinations rather than acknowledge something real and not OK is being done to me.

The End.

 

 

Doing Something Different

Today I am doing something I haven’t done in a while – I am sitting in a pub using The Cloud to download.  I have been limiting myself to what my dongle can do, which isn’t very much and is very slow and hit and miss.  Last night I tried to download some Decameron, a folk group, and only one track downloaded successfully.  I have now managed to download the whole album.  Really I wanted Parabola Road from way back, but it isn’t on Napster anymore, which is a pain.  What made me come over was wanting to download some Noam Chomsky, one of his latest lectures, When Elites Fail.  As he says, the easy answer is just get rid of them, but the working answer is harder.  I look forward to listening to this when I go back to my bedroom.

I have a move in date for my bungalow now, it is 15th September.  Unfortunately part of the flooring has been pulled up.  They say it was probably dangerous but it looked fine to me.  I’m going to need some time to be able to replace it, so I hope they are not in a hurry to get rid of me at Broomhill House.  My CPN Jennie Wainwright is looking into a charity for me, and I am going to make another application for a budgeting loan.

There are some great blogs that I am following, they make me feel really boring in the way I write.  I just read an entry from Beyond Meds, about the Red Tent groups.  I wonder if they have them in the UK.  She also talked about yoga and ecstatic dancing groups, as alternatives to clinical approaches to mental health.  I am very much in favour of this approach.  She talked about sound healing as well.  Michael Mish is into that, he studied something called Tama Do.  I miss him.  I had an email correspondence with him for about a year but he broke it off.  He felt I had tricked him.  He said sometimes you try to help people but it goes wrong.  I still listen to his music, I often play I Can Heal to fall asleep to.  I love all his music.  I wish he would get back in touch.  The latest I knew he was trying to sell his house so he could go on the road.  Funny, here’s me needing a home and him trying to get rid of one.  He says on the road you realise how nice people can be.

I’m seeing an Assertive Outreach worker on Tuesday about getting a shed.  He used to work in a place that does them and we are going there.  I have no idea how much they would charge to erect it.  I saw a company that gives an inclusive price for erecting a wooden one, but not a metal one.  This might turn out to be more expensive than I can handle.   I am anxious to get my stuff out of storage, as the part I am thinking about costs me £96 every 4 weeks, and I can’t afford to be leaking that at the moment.  I have thought about getting it out and storing it in the bungalow until I can get the shed, but then heavy and awkward stuff will have to transferred to the shed and it will need 2 men to do it.  I think it is best to do it while the removals people are actually there and available.  My mum is lending me some money for the move but it still isn’t enough.  It would be far easier if I didn’t have my own stuff to move in and get out of storage.  It would be easier if the bungalow were bigger as well, then I wouldn’t need a shed.  I have got used to the idea of living there, it’s not impossible, but there is so much expense associated with it. I need a letter from the council for Housing Benefit, stating address, date of moving and amount of rent, and I don’t think they have given it to me.  They have given me a couple of folders with contracts, but that isn’t what Housing Benefit asks for.

There is one more thing – my self care isn’t good, I feel tired and overwhelmed and incapable.  Every so often they prompt me to have a shower, and last time they said I couldn’t use the kitchen unless I had a shower, so I was two days not allowed in the kitchen.  Last time the person who told me was angry with me, although it is supposed to be a symptom of schizophrenia, so her anger didn’t make much sense, from that perspective.  She also told me there was a conversation documented from that weekend that I had been asked to have a shower, but although the conversation was documented, no such conversation took place.  So if they are lying about things like that, what other lies are in my notes?

The war on grief

Broomhill House

In my last post I said the regimentalism here was getting me down.  By regimentalism I meant the 10 am get up time and the slots for meals.  Possibly it wasn’t that fair of me to say that because when it comes to it most people are quite flexible, some more than others.  For the time being this is my home, and it’s not really too bad, all things considered.  There is a lot of banter and humour between the staff and between ourselves and the staff.  However, the serious issues remain, it’s just that they are not looked at very often, and I fear that if we tried we might end up feeling the worse for it.  The serious stuff comes out at tribunals.  They said I was grandiose and had pressure of speech.  They said I lacked insight.

As a Christian I believe I need to be kind and forgiving.  That doesn’t seem to be far away from giving the impression that I am complying happily.  But then the guns come out at tribunals, the guns they have trained on me.  Dismissing me as grandiose, for what reason I do not know.  That is the people who sat on the panel.

The worst thing about sleeping here is the plastic mattresses.  Every night I wake up several times too hot and throw the duvet off, and every morning I can feel the sweat pouring off of me, and my hair is plastered to my back.  I’ve been told that my bedroom is next to the one which is right over the boiler, I don’t know if that makes any difference, or if it is just the weather and the building.  My mother says she prefers the cold weather, because if she is too cold she can do something about it, whereas it is a lot harder if you are too hot.  We haven’t got fans or anything, if we had the noise would be a disturbance.

I’ve thought about going back to the place in Sherwood to ask other neighbours if they heard the woman shouting hallelujah above me.  It seems to me that the psychiatrists want to put that down to auditory hallucinations.  I don’t know how they can be so definite without making proper checks, maybe it is just a delusion in their own heads, subsidiary to their own delusions of grandeur and power and importance.

Maybe this is a period of transition for me.  I no longer have my nice flat apart from the neighbours and the bitumen on the floorboards.  I might not get a garden this time.  I wonder how long it is going to take them to come up with a property for me.  People are saying I’m on priority listing, but there must be others as well.  I was told some Salvation Army flats were being withdrawn from people who were living in them and the number 70 was mentioned as the number of people who would be consequentially homeless.  What with that and the present shortage of one bedroom flats I imagine I might have to wait for a very long time before something comes up for me.  The tribunal said something about wanting to have me moving on by July, but I can’t see that happening.  As much as I am trying to be reasonable and understanding and friendly towards people who are really so different from me, I really don’t want to have to make this my home for a long time.  The humour and banter are just distractions from the very important fact that, ultimately, it is a power relationship that I am on the wrong side of.  I have said in the past that this is little more than an open prison.  For me that is true, being on a Section 3.  I hate coming back here when I go out.  I am trying to work on my tendency to see this as a them and us situation, but it is hard.  I have no choice but to be here, I can’t leave if I want to.  People talk about state kidnap in relation to this situation, and that does feel true at the end of the day.

People have looked at my post ‘Striking Poses’ over the last few days, so I re-read it today and still find it relevant.  Let it be noted that I had problems at Macmillan Close even on medication that I am not experiencing here.  My key nurse asked me if the fact that I am not experiencing the same problems here didn’t suggest something about being on medication, but it is not that simple.

How Should I Blog?

I’ve been feeling for a while now that I am writing for an audience and I should give it something interesting or relevant.  When I first started blogging there was a lot of emergency feeling to the material I was putting out, I’m not feeling that so much now.  I have wondered if my blog has come to the end of its useful life.  I have also thought that writing on my blog is an indulgence I can’t afford if I’m to handle my relationships right, and that maybe my blogging and fear of the consequences  has been the problem in a lot of situations.  I think my blog needs to take a different direction, or maybe it’s just me that needs to take a different direction because I am stuck in a boring rut.

I feel incapable of writing about anything of interest, and as if I have said everything there is to say about my situation.  I can’t just keep going over the same old stuff all the time, there is nothing interesting about doing that.

I get anxious as well when I see some of the posts people are visiting, I think back on it and think it must all come across as paranoid rambling.  Also I don’t know who is accessing my material and why, because comments are left so seldom.  I wish more people would identify themselves and leave comments.  At the moment my statistics show I get between 20 and 30 views per day, but people don’t stop to comment.  Maybe they find my posts unreadable and all they do is alight then leave quickly because they can’t deal with what they find.  I continue to get followers to my blog.  I used to think my readership was church people and some people from the media and maybe the police, but I don’t think like that anymore.  It might have been true once, or maybe it wasn’t, but it certainly seemed true from things I was seeing and hearing, including sermons from church websites.

Off of my stated topic, I still feel worn down by the regimented life here at Broomhill House.  I still know about studies which show that antipsychotics cause brain damage and also shrink the brain and that people on medication have a shorter life expectancy, apart from the suicides of people who can’t take it anymore.  I feel so tired I want to acquiesce to everything and forget I have read these things, to comply and be happy to comply as if none of the things I have read by other people with concerns are true.  I want to forget everything I know has happened to me and dismiss it as paranoia, just as the psychiatrists do.  It would be so easy, at the moment, just to forget.  I want to approach church people and ask them, but there seems no point because they are closed and wouldn’t tell me the truth, they want to dismiss everything as just mental illness, but I know what I have heard from them.  They would rather have it that I am mentally ill than admit to anything that might be a bit untoward.  They would want me to accept everything they have done as OK or not admit to any of it to me.  I particularly feel that about David Shearman.

Trip to the Pub Revisited

What a silly idea to think that getting drunk could be a regular thing for me.  I had a hangover this morning!  I fell asleep almost immediately last night when I went to bed.  I didn’t get a hangover on the wine though, only on Guinness.  So maybe it depends what I drink.  But I don’t want to develop an alcohol problem, I couldn’t afford it for one thing, and for another I don’t want high blood pressure and a pickled liver.

I first thought that being drunk was a good alternative to my usual state of mind when I was in Bulgaria and things were happening there.  My psychiatrists want me to believe it was all in my head, but I know it wasn’t.  How they have the face to say something they weren’t there for was all in my imagination I can’t quite fathom.  They command people’s lives because they can’t or won’t believe what some people go through in the outside world.  I know I dealt with it badly but that doesn’t mean I’m mentally ill.  It really was happening, it wasn’t in my imagination.

Update 02.05.2014

I had my tribunal on Tuesday and as I expected, I was not discharged.  It was funny though, when I went back in for the result they all looked uncomfortable, as if they hadn’t wanted to reach the decision they had reached.  They didn’t discharge me and they recommended I be discharged into the community eventually on a CTO (Community Treatment Order).

Joanna Moncrieff (and many others) say antipsychotics cause brain damage, within a year.  I quoted Joanna Moncrieff at my tribunal, saying that she had said that medicalising suffering leads to loss of meaning for people.  I am in the process of having brain damage forced on me.

The Council for Evidence Based Psychiatry met with people in parliament on Wednesday.  One can only hope that people in power are going to start listening and making changes to the power relationship.

At the tribunal the hospital staff said I had not made progress while I have been here and that I don’t engage at any depth.  I said I don’t engage at depth because I know what they think and I disagree with them, and that it would cause conflict and I don’t want that.  I said I had a right to be distressed without it being medicalised.

I said that people who say they are being stalked should have that looked into properly and not be put in hospital, because stalking is a crime now, since very recently.  I am shocked that it was not a crime before.  I told them I believed I was a victim of organised stalking, I also told them my brother had been on television following the murder of a child in Bestwood, where we used to live and where my brother had continued to live, and that he has said that if things that have happened to him got out his own life would be put at risk.  I don’t know where he has got that idea from or what has been happening to him, he doesn’t want any of us to know where he is living.  The conversation I had with him was during a chance meeting at the Victoria Centre.  Would they want to write him off as psychotic as well?  He sounded very heavy but if he is living with that kind of fear it isn’t surprising.

Update 26.04.2014

Nearly 3 weeks ago Homelink told my Moving Forward worker Natasha that in 2 weeks they would offer me a place to live, but my new worker phoned them again on Thursday, 2 days after the 2 weeks, and they said they haven’t got anything suitable yet.  So why did they say 2 weeks in the first place?

On May 1st it will be exactly 2 years that I have been in hospital, mainly because of housing difficulties, and I can see myself being here another year yet, that is my fear.  They’ve only recently decided they have a responsibility for me.  They were saying they had no responsibility.

Homelessness here sucks, if I want to go off the ward, unless I ride the buses, which I haven’t done, it involves spending money.  I have no place to go off the ward.  I can’t afford to have to spend money every time I go out.

On the ward I am playing cards and dominoes quite a lot at the moment, I play Patience if no one else is available.  I never thought life would come to this for me.  This is what old people do.  There is a swimming group but I’m not too keen on swimming, especially as it takes me ages to get dressed again afterwards, I wouldn’t want to go as part of a group.

I’ve got my concessionary bus pass now so travel is easier, but before I wasn’t going out because I didn’t want to spend the bus fare, but now I am going out I’m spending more, and I really can’t afford it.

In a couple of weeks I am going to file for bankruptcy.  That costs £525 if you are on benefits, and a lot more if you are not.

In 3 days I have a mental health tribunal hearing.  I want to be discharged from my section but I can’t see it happening.  I hope finding a home won’t take too much longer, I’m sure it is worse living here than living in a hostel.  Some of the staff are nice and try to be kind, but homelessness is homelessness, and I am tired of being in hospital just because I have no home.

This article by Leah Harris on Mad In America argues that the way to address the roots of suffering and violence in American society is to be trauma-informed rather than to think in terms of mental illness.  I believe it applies just as much to the UK.

She talks about the effects of war, of 9/11, of homelessness, and of the effects of being abused or witnessing abuse in the family as a child.

She points out that most services are not trauma-informed and that a person can be re-traumatised by what they experience at the hands of the services, and she talks briefly about a community that is making an effort to be trauma-informed.  I think it is well worth a read, and hope my readers will give it their attention.  Thank you.

The Fat Lady Has Sung

This article on Mad In America is an account and display of studies that have been done that show that over a 7 year period patients not on antipsychotics are far less likely to display symptoms of psychosis than those who are, strongly suggesting, at least, that antipsychotics are no good for long term treatment and are in fact harmful.  The writer says that the fat lady has sung, and asks if psychiatry will continue to be deaf to her voice.  My question is what could be the motive for continuing to be deaf?  Profit?  Laziness?  Fear?  or what?

When I Absconded Last Year

When I absconded from hospital last year I found it much more helpful to realise I was having panic attacks than to believe that what I was experiencing was a symptom of schizophrenia and not being on medication. I was gone for 12 days only but I was a lot happier with the way I was dealing with myself than the way the hospital dealt with me. I could talk myself through things, calming down and breathing. I was very gentle with myself and I think I helped myself during that period a lot. When I was finally apprehended by the police (I was on the streets, I’ve been homeless for 2 1/2 years) they said they thought the hospital should discharge me because I was lucid.

The hospital didn’t discharge me though, they kept me and reinstated my medication, and I was unco-operative with the psychiatrist who asked me about something then wanted to move on before I was finished. I believe he decided I was schizophrenic and needing medication because I stood up to him. I shook his hand and he had a pencil in it and he made no effort to remove it, the same as once before. I thought he was a very rude little man. I had hoped for better from him.

They didn’t reinstate my medications straight away because the paperwork wasn’t up to date, but they tried to. This little man who came to see me (and he was little, he was shorter than me, and I’m only 5’1″) was the second opinion doctor. It took them 3 or 4 weeks to relay his decision to me, and all the time I felt completely normal and functioning well, except inwardly I freaked out over the fact they might put me back on medication. They didn’t relay his decision to me because he hadn’t relayed it to them. I was open and vulnerable and you hope that is going to count for something, but it counted for nothing.
There is nothing that justifies what they have done to me.  That is my downfall, I keep thinking it is my fault and they are justified. I keep believing in what they have said to me.
They think we don’t understand, they must do.  They must believe that they are best looking after our human rights by killing everything joyful and spontaneous and strong and making us take medication.  I’ve told them I had a woman upstairs constantly screaming hallelujah and making me beside myself but they have decided to believe that what they are dealing with is psychosis.

 

This is the title of a blog entry on Mad in America, but it actually concerns Britain and the British government.  The writer, James Davies, PhD, who has worked in the NHS and was first accepting of the mainstream view of psychiatric categories and drugs, has since changed his mind and realises he was wrong.  Even better, he belongs to a group, the Council for Evidence-Based Psychiatry, which from April this year will be speaking to MPs at the Houses of Parliament about the harm being done by psychiatry and its drugs.

“The official launch of CEP will take place on 30th April 2014 in the Houses of Parliament, London. And to mark the occasion two eminent critics will address the invited audience of journalists, MPs, policy makers, practitioners and survivor advocates. Dr. Joanna Moncrieff, a senior researcher and psychiatrist at University College London, will first talk about the exaggerated benefits of psychotropic medications, discussing the largely ignored evidence of their toxic and long-term debilitating effects.

She will be followed by Professor Peter Gotzsche, director of the Nordic Cochrane Centre and co-founder of the Cochrane Collaboration, the gold standard for the review of medical research data.  He will talk about failed drug regulation, buried negative clinical trial data, conflicts of interest at medical journals, drug-induced harms, and other issues familiar to Mad in America subscribers.”

As Dr Davies points out himself, it is all very well being in the critical stream, but the problem is that the decision makers, like MPs, don’t get exposed to it, but this is a change and it is good.  At the end there are links to their website and Facebook page.

This is an interesting article by Deepak Chopra about the nature of reality.  He argues that reality is located in the quantum sphere beyond the 5 senses, and that science which fails to recognise this is deficient.  He talks about how consciousness is necessary for reality and meaning, pointing out that reality is changed at the quantum level by observation.  He talks about parallel universes, and Maya, which often translated as illusion actually means distraction.  The world of Maya is the world of the 5 senses alone.  He says that observation could not exist without consciousness and that consciousness is capable of self-knowledge, which is the world of the subjective mistakenly rejected by science.  Even the world of mathematics is seen as a limited system, being ultimately a system devised by the brain.

I am interested in this as yet another article which says that science as it is most widely practised is inadequate for reality and everything it entails.

Joanna Moncrieff is an academic psychiatrist who recognises that meaning is lost and marginalised with the medicalisation of distress.

Joanna Moncrieff

People have used psychoactive substances to dull and deaden pain, misery and suffering since time immemorial, but only recently, in the last few decades, have people been persuaded that what they are doing in this situation is rightly thought of as taking a remedy for an underlying disease. The spread of the use of prescription drugs has gone hand in hand with the increasing medicalization of everyday life, and a corresponding loss of the previous relationship that people had with psychoactive substances.

Elizabeth Gaskell’s novel Mary Barton was originally to be named after Mary’s father John Barton, a working class factory hand addicted to opium (1). The novel depicts the unimaginable poverty and exploitation of industrial Manchester that made opium-induced oblivion an appealing escape. Although Gaskell clearly disapproved of John ‘s addiction, the reader is left in no doubt that opium use in 19th century Britain was a symptom of…

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Looking Back

I am often embarrassed  by seeing the posts that get the most traffic on my blog.  I feel embarrassed by my communication style and by the content, especially when I have said that I and my close contacts are being stalked.  It was real enough at the time, but looking back it feels unreal because now I am not feeling as I did then.  What I can’t say for sure is that all of this embarrassment is justified.  It is possible that I was being stalked.  Certainly I was angry and afraid at the times I wrote that way, as well as feeling guilt over the fact, as I saw it, that I was failing in relationships.  I feel as if I was wrong because it was so long ago and nothing seems to be happening now.  I still hear the odd thing, but nothing major.

I want people to read my blog because I want them to get hold of the antipsychiatry that I wish to communicate, but I feel as if most of my blog is embarrassing rubbish, so it isn’t very easy for me to drive traffic by way of my blog.

I’ve still got lots of library books out about antipsychiatry.  I know I have been in agreement with them but my position gets weakened by the fact that I continue to be detained and that things seem relatively tolerable at the moment.  I’m not aware of any major feelings of being stalked, and I’ve got a place to eat and sleep and shelter.  As much as I would like to go on reading these books it seems pointless and that I am fruitlessly in strong agreement with them, when nothing I say or do makes any difference to the way I am viewed and treated.  It’s a waste of time and mental energy to keep reading, though I can see where they go and I agree with them.  I’m a patient, it doesn’t matter what I think about these things.  The psychiatric staff where I am believe they are the people with the right view and way of doing things.

So being constantly confronted on my dashboard with post titles that make me cringe with embarrassment is taking its toll on me when it comes to confidence that my blog can communicate anything worthwhile and understandable to a new reader.  I don’t know why people look for these posts as opposed to some of my more rational ones, but they keep going for posts the content of which makes me cringe.  So I have a difficult relationship with my blog at the moment.

This article in The New Scientist details attempts which have been successful over several periods, including a 7-year period, to treat the classic symptoms of schizophrenia using talking therapies and computerised methods without medication, and says that people who are medication-free rebuild their lives more successfully.  It questions the dopamine theory as well.

At the end of this article is a link to another called Antipsychotic drugs are schizophrenia’s hidden gulag, which says that it is a human rights emergency that people diagnosed with schizophrenia are expected to take antipsychotics for the rest of their lives.

I am pleased that these articles are in a publication like The New Scientist and that they detail instances of successful treatment without drugs.  The groundswell against the present treatment of people diagnosed as schizophrenic needs to grow, and that is one reason I write this blog.

These articles were posted by the Facebook group, Speak Out Against Psychiatry.  This is an informative, supportive and active group which campaigns against psychiatry and its abuses.  Please apply for membership.

Update 22.02.2014

For the last few days I have been tweeting and retweeting on Twitter, and have gained 22 more followers.

I did some washing and had a shower this morning and it was completely claustrophobic.  There is hardly room to bend without getting burnt on the pipes, there is just enough room to stand under the unrelenting shower.  The curtain doesn’t go all the way down into the tray so there is water on the floor.

I can hardly bear my situation any longer.  I heard someone call someone ‘madam’ earlier.  Talk about respect.  If they called us sir and madam here without joking and if they were really available to meet our needs I think that would do more for some of us than all their medication.  Someone let themselves into my room at 9.55 the other day, while I was still getting dressed.  They said they knocked but I didn’t hear them.  The rule as I understood it was that we had to be up and dressed by 10, but she told me we also had to be downstairs for 2 hours between 10 and midday.  Maybe it depends who’s on and how lenient they are feeling, because they didn’t enforce it yesterday and they aren’t enforcing it today.  Inconsistency isn’t good, it leaves you unsure all the time.

We had a ladies’ meeting the other day and the nurse told me Broomhill House was a family and even when we have left we can come back and do things.  I’m not sure about that.  I know they have an outreach among people who are living in the local community, and some of those people come in during the day.  It seems to have got right away from seeing itself as an institution with legal powers and it seems to want us to not see it that way as well, if we are supposed to see it as family.  Maybe it was just that lady.

The sun is shining and it is forecast to be dry today, which will be nice.  Obviously the flooding in other parts of the country is desperate and awful.  I hope they can get it sorted out and that it won’t be an annual occurence.  They were showing leafy foliage which holds a lot of water, last night on the news.  I suppose the idea is to plant it as a barrier.  They must have other ideas as well.  It must have been a nightmare for these poor people.  I was thinking myself that I might like to live in one of those areas, but the flooding has changed my mind.  They say it is climate change.  They said that in about 200 years some parts of the country will be completely under water.  It looks as if this might be the start of it, if it is climate change.  They say it has been 250 years since we had a winter like this one.  I wonder if people were flooded out then?

I’ve got Gem 106 on in the background, it’s quite a nice station.  I used to listen to Graham Norton on Radio 2 but I don’t fancy it recently.  Radio 4 picked on him a few months ago as an example of what the masses are fed as entertainment.  They found fault with him shouting ‘Oh, Oh’ when he starts.  I don’t really mind that, I suppose it is one way of exciting and bonding with an audience.

I feel a bit sick today, probably nerves about staying in my room and the same nurse who barged into my room being on in the kitchen.  We’re not going to get on, probably.  It’s lunchtime now, and I’m going to go down and get my first cup of tea of the day.  Someone just banged on my door and told me I need to go down now and cook.  That’s a bit off, there’s an hour and five minutes yet before lunchtime finishes.  They probably want to close the kitchen early.  That hasn’t happened before.

Broomhill House

I’ve survived my first two days and it’s not that bad.  This morning I met Vince the cook and my care-co-ordinator’s husband.  He got my food shifted to a lower shelf for me. The person below me is a lot taller so he swapped us round.  He also told me that if I wanted to cook properly from scratch they could open the kitchen a bit earlier for me, and that they preferred it when people cooked from scratch.  So what is written is a guideline only.  However, I still wish the kitchen was open whenever we wanted it.  Maybe with so many people it would be harder to manage.

Ben is back tomorrow so I am hoping that we might be able to sit down and talk about accommodation and getting me a bus pass.  I’m going to register with a GP today as well.  One of the student nurses is taking me there.  We went yesterday but it was closed for staff training.  I bought some food yesterday as well – a loaf of bread, honey, a fish pie, a lamb hotpot, some onions, some ice cream and other bits and pieces.

My depot is due today.  I always hate that but recently I have been forgetting about it, so I’m not anxiously counting off the days.

I’m waiting to see some people from an organisation called Framework.  One will be helping me appeal against an over-payment of DLA and the other will be helping me with accommodation.  I spent the over-payment.  It feels a bit grubby saying that, but I did tell the nurses three times that my DLA needed to be stopped and they said they had got in touch, but it still wasn’t stopped.  At the moment they want to take it back incrementally.  My finances are a real mess at the moment, as I have indicated before.

I haven’t really unpacked anything yet.  I have so many bags it’s a nightmare, and storage space in my bedroom is limited.  I have a chest of drawers with 3 drawers, a bedside table with a couple of compartments, and a wardrobe which is half shelves.  We could do with a bin in the rooms, but I don’t have one, I assume I’m not unique in that.  I don’t really have the energy to deal with anything.  The thought of having a shower is daunting, it is so small it feels claustrophobic.  I’ve set my radio and speakers up and also I have my laptop with a lot of my music on which I can also connect to my speakers if I want to.  At the moment I have Radio 3 on and I think they are playing Beethoven’s 9th Symphony, in fact I know they are.  The familiar Ode to Joy theme.

It’s lunchtime now and I have a pot of bean salad to eat, so I’ll be going down in a few minutes.

I’m still waiting for Housing Aid to get back to me with their decision, whatever it’s going to be.  I asked for an idea of how long it might take and received no answer.  Overall I feel quite positive at the moment.  It’s amazing what some good food can do for you!

Moved!

I moved this afternoon at 2pm.  I had no lunch as everything was packed away, I just had a boiled egg and toast for breakfast, to get rid of the egg that needed using up by today.  I was counting on a roast dinner being provided this evening. but when dinner time came round it was just scrambled egg and baked beans on toast.  People had miscommunicated with me by calling lunch dinner.  The roast was for lunch, and I wasn’t there.  Food is provided for us here on Wednesday and Sunday, the rest of the time is self-catering.

I am worried about my food cupboard as it is just one shelf in a cupboard above the sink, and I can’t reach it.  Everything I have cupboardwise is jam packed onto that one shelf and there is a sink underneath it, so nowhere to put the things I would need to move to get at the things behind them.  Although there are 12 of us to feed ourselves the kitchen is locked longer than it is open and mealtimes are regimented into 1 1/4 hour slots after which the kitchen is locked up again until the next designated hour and a quarter.  If you miss it you can’t just eat later.  That means on days I go to see my mum I might miss two meals, lunch and dinner.

My room’s OK.  It’s got an armchair and en suite shower and toilet.  No rails for towels.

The staff seem friendly and have suggested a way to deal with the cupboard situation ie stand on a step but it’s still not going to solve the problem completely.  There is far too little space and things are likely to fall out if I try to negotiate my way around it.  Enright Close was better, this feels like organised chaos and I resent it already.  Ben is here from Macmillan Close and he is my key nurse.  I’ve got a dripping tap in the bathroom and it is really loud.  I turned it so it wouldn’t drip but it has started dripping again.  This is the stuff nightmares are made of.  I know I’m going to be really anxious here.

Moving Again

I’ve just been told in my review meeting that tomorrow I have to move to a place in Nottingham called Broomhill.  I understand it has 10-12 residents all sharing the same lounge and TV.  Bang goes choice and privacy.  Here it is 4 people in my bungalow.

I have a Tesco order I need to cancel on the advice of one of the staff there who says I should wait until I see how much space I have in the fridge.  I’m not really looking forward to this.  Just when you’re getting on all right where you are they decide to move you.  My nurse Jennie says I might find it upsetting as some of the residents are more ill than I am.  Her husband works there as a cook.  It was him who said I should cancel my delivery.

The idea is to build up my time in Nottingham so I become eligible for housing there.  I’m still waiting for someone from Housing Aid to make some sort of decision about something, she seems to be taking a long time.  Jennie suggested I should email her and ask her how long she thought her decision might take, but I did that about 2 weeks ago and she didn’t answer me.  Jennie thinks it is rude of her not to reply.

Anyway, so all change all over again.

Hopefully it will be nice to get back to Nottingham though.  I’m going to have to sort out a disabled bus pass because there is no way I can afford bus fairs at the moment.  In Newark I have never needed to use a bus.  I’m only a 10-15 minute walk away from the town centre.

Another worry is that someone said they had had a note of some sort to say I am not eligible for Housing Benefit.  I hope that is a misunderstanding.

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