Tag Archive: Bulgaria


My radio is playing up, it won’t transmit properly without interference unless I’m sitting still in the middle of the room or right on top of it, so I’ve been playing my way through my Napster library (yes, I’m still with Napster) to see why I downloaded the items in the first place.

I don’t normally play my music during the day, but I’ve got a few that I go to at night and play in an attempt to get myself off to sleep, so yesterday and today I thought I’d do a whistlestop tour of everything in my library, except it’s not whistlestop, I’m playing them right through in alphabetical order of artist.

I’ve got some ‘music for deep meditation’ on at the moment called Bansuri.  I’ve had Alfie Boe on, someone called Antman reading the first 29 Psalms, Amy Grant, AudioBible reading of the Gospel of John, Andy Williams (downloaded for my mother) and Arthur Rubenstein playing Chopin’s Nocturnes.  That’s just the first few.  I’m into the Bs now but I can’t be bothered to list them.  While I’ve been listening to all this I have been tweeting and retweeting on Twitter.  I’ve had a few new followers today and I’ve gone over the 200 mark.

I’ve got a move coming up in the next 2 or 3 weeks to an absolute rabbit hutch of a bungalow.  I’m very anxious about it.  There is plenty of garden so I am erecting a shed in the back to store my belongings which won’t fit into the bungalow.  Within 4 months it will have paid for itself as the alternative would be to keep my stuff in storage.  I’m worried that the shed might not be big enough, I’m worried about money, and I’m worried that I won’t be able to find the things I want inside the bungalow.

In my planning I am compensating for not having a lot of space in my bungalow by working towards being able to afford a cheap house in Bulgaria.  You can get something really spacious for about 6 or 7 thousand euros, and I’m thinking of taking my stuff over there with me.  I know it seems drastic but it’s the only way I am going to have my own space, and the countryside is lovely.  Without a landlord breathing down my neck there I should have a different experience from my first one, if I own my own property.  I should feel more secure.  I should feel secure here, but I feel doomed to a cramped and impoverished existence.  Maybe it’s my fault and I’m being too negative and ungrateful.  I can’t honestly see how I can make it home though.

I’ve got the Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band on now, ‘Gorilla’.  Tommy Boyd introduced me to that on his radio programme.

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.

Interesting Week

It was my birthday on Sunday, I was 53.  I got 3 birthday cards, 1 from one of the women who lives here, 1 from the staff and one my sister sent to my mother for me which I got on Monday when I went to see her.  The staff bought me some presents, a snood and gloves, some Laura Ashley smelly stuff and some Milk Tray chocolates.  My mum gave me some money.

On Monday I got a call from Guinness Housing Association about a house in Bacup, in Lancashire.  They sent me an email with an outside view.  I made a mistake, I thought Bacup was in Derbyshire, but I must have mistaken it for Bakewell, because Bacup is in Lancashire.  The outside view is lovely, rolling hills and everything, white house in the middle of a terraced row.  I was a bit nervous about that, these days I am not very tolerant of noise and I want my home to be quiet.  Contrarily I have also wanted to be able to sing in my home, but I think those days might be over.  On the other hand it would be nice to think they were not.  I can see it in Bulgaria, but not here.  Even Bulgaria will take me some time to save up for.

Last Tuesday, the 19th, at the Managers’ hearing, Dr Moldavsky told the panel that I had talked about going to Bulgaria but that he thought it was unrealistic.  I brought that up with my allocated nurse yesterday and she told me he hadn’t said that at the time, but that we would have to talk about it.  I don’t know why he has suddenly decided it is unrealistic but he seemed to want to present it as a symptom of mental illness.  I resent him deeply, and especially the fact that he took that position.  He asks me questions to which I give short but adequate answers, then he eyes me in silence before asking me something else.  Every time I answer him he eyes me in silence, as if what I have given him is not enough or as if it is plenty to uphold the diagnosis.  He does not respect my boundaries because if he did he wouldn’t interpret them the way he does, as indicators of mental illness.  They have been dragging me emotionally through the same stuff with the same kinds of questions and disrespect for nearly 18 years.  Surely I have the right to say ‘no more’, but he won’t see it that way.  He wouldn’t tell me what part of the world he comes from but I suspect him as coming from a culture where people cow tow to professionals and where women cow tow to men.  He doesn’t see me as having the right to reject what he wants from me in terms of self disclosure.  I have the right not to disclose my pain and vulnerability to people who are going to define it in ways I fundamentally disagree with.  I hardly ever see the staff unless I need to ask them for paracetamol or Peptac for indigestion or heartburn, and they always on the surface accept my answer that everything is fine, and last week they said I had neither declined nor made progress, but I don’t think there has been enough engagement for them to make that assessment.  They thought it was positive that I accepted the injection, but I only accept it for fear of the consequences they would visit on me if I don’t.

I’m going to stop now.  I am writing in the lounge where a male nurse has just come in and called me darling and is cutting someone’s hair for her.  He is showing her photographs from his modeling shoot, one of which is for Playboy.  I think it is an insult that people who are prepared to model for Playboy should be contributing a professional opinion on my mental health.  They want him to go to London tomorrow to do some more.  I think it is his modeling agency, not Playboy.  I’m sitting here afraid to say anything about the morality of it and his morality in comparison to mine for fear of the backchat or straightforward lack of understanding it would provoke.  He’s Oh God-ing it now.  I am deeply offended and angry, because they play blind even if they are not.  Actually I should feel sorry for him and not judgmental, because he obviously is blind.  But I wonder if the unit manager knows about his extra work activities?

Bulgaria Better Than Psychiatry

I’m thinking about Bulgaria again, and have been for a while.  I am still homeless and it is still possible to buy a house in stages there, if I can make peace with the person who was sending me details of such houses before, or find someone else who does the same thing.  I became annoyed with the last person I was talking to because he kept talking about crazy and mental, and it offended me.  In the end he said he didn’t think we could do business.  I don’t know of anyone else offering his terms.

The beauty of Bulgaria, apart from the natural beauty, is that I could shortly afford to buy a property there and it would be my own.  This would put me in a position I have never been in before, would alter my relationship with the country and its people and would greatly increase my personal stability, because the property would be my own.  Nothing to fear from landlords, and therefore not much cause for fear from anyone else really.

The UK and Bulgaria have an arrangement with each other whereby my British benefits could be paid into a Bulgarian bank account, except I would lose an element of my DLA.  I could take great joy and pleasure living in Bulgaria.  This is something I need to look into further.  When I was on Redwood 2 there was a man called John Butterworth who told me about this international arrangement.  He was the benefits advisor, but he left and he wasn’t replaced, so the job no longer exists.

We are getting to 2014, when Bulgaria comes into full relationship with the EU.  Very soon after that house prices there could soar, so I need to act almost immediately, except I can’t, because I don’t have enough money.  I need accommodation here first so that I can get all my benefits back in full, if saving is going to be a viable option.  In all my thinking I had really forgotten the stability that owning a property would give me.  I feel it as a joyful necessity and opportunity.


A Coward Dies A Thousand Deaths

I’ve been thinking that about myself in relation to going back to church.  I have had the same battle every Sunday for three weeks.  I wonder if anyone else can put their hands up to being a coward?  I hear the preaching style and its content and I don’t want to go back, in spite of its historical place in my life.  At the same time I do want to go back.  But if we approach each other the wrong way it could explode in our faces, again.

I;m writing this in a hotel restaurant at 22.27 09.12.2012 UK time.  In Bulgaria it has just tipped over to Monday 10.12.2012.  I was reading in the Times yesterday, which I bought with a coffee, that President Putin wants to rebuild the old Soviet Union under another name, but that the West wants to avoid that happening or slow it down.  I was wanting to go back to Bulgaria ad buy there, but I’m not sure now.  I have heard that Bulgaria, of all the old Soviet countries, is closer in sentiment and politics to Russia than any of the others.  A lot of Russians buy in the country.  When Bulgaria first entered the European Union a Russian official expressed the wish that Bulgaria would be Russia’s Trojan horse in Europe.  There is an anticipated change in Bulgaria’s relationship with the EU scheduled for 2014 which is supposed to bring property prices into line with the rest of Europe.  What we have at the moment, if that is true, is a window of opportunity.  Opportunity for what?  To exploit the average Bulgarian who is selling at the moment at around 10,000 euros?  I can’t see how someone with self respect and respect for the people of Bulgaria could do that to them.  It seems quite a ‘sharp’ thing to do, to me.  After 2014 they could sell for more.

So there, I’ve committed it to writing, that I think it is just sharp business practice.  I wonder how people will feel if this re-establishing of the Soviet Union becomes a reality, if those who have bought will quickly get out.  If I buy and that happens, I won’t be staying.  I suppose he would want to go towards being closed, like before.  What about all the murders under the old communist regime, would they come back, or have lessons been learned?

I’m just writing, for no particularly good reason.  I told myself on the way down here that if I was repentant I wouldn’t be heading for a hotel to drink wine and download stuff.  I imagine David Shearman being angry with me and believing that he shouldn’t talk to me until he sees evidence of repentance.  Do I really want to go back to seeing the rest of the world as Egypt and ruled by demons?  But that is what the Bible says, that Satan is the god of this world, the ruler of the powers of the air.  I have felt loved by some of these people, rightly or wrongly.  I can see myself sitting happily in a congregation and rejecting everything.  I can see myself doing it, happily, it isn’t even a hope or a fear.

Repentance makes amends and seeks reconciliation.  What about everything I’ve said about not being able to be in church because they validate the mental health system and sometimes use it as a weapon or offend by taking it for granted, apparently, that it is right and that the person judged as mentally ill is rightly so judged?

I feel both sombre and happy.  I’m very tired.  Because of where I am at as a woman, every time I feel I have made a breakthrough in understanding how best to handle myself ad my relationships it also hurts deeply that I didn’t know before and then I feel unable to maintain any feeling of having made progress in any solid way.

That will do for now.  A bit more self-display.  It would not be so bad if it didn’t get into the wrong hands as well as kind ones.  Where’s Tommy Boyd?  He’s disappeared off the planet, by the looks of it.  I can’t believe he’s finished broadcasting for good.  It’s only his 60th birthday this year.  I thought he was more professionally committed than that.  He’s just gone, and I feel bereft, as well as anything else.  That sounds stupid and pretentious.  I’m also a bit pleased he isn’t there so I am not constantly infuriated.  I wish he was around for me because I feel I need him.  He was there once, when I sat with him in his car.  I wasn’t, I said no.  He pointed to his chest and said ‘I’M in here’ and looking back I always remember that as very touching and tender.  He didn’t seem to be trying to pull any tricks.  Every time I phoned up he said something to remind me of that night and it was too late, perhaps, that I realised it was possibly an invitation to talk some more.  Although how I could have done I don’t know.  If it was an invitation I didn’t understand that at the time.


20.09.2012 One Year Homeless

And to think I raided my credit card piggy banks because I thought it would be dealt with within a month.  I didn’t realise I would run out of money before I was re-housed.  The date on this post will be 21.09.2012 because I have kept the blog in Bulgarian time to save confusion.  It is also Greek time and Syrian time.  Imagine how that felt to me last year when I was watching the news and Syria was in my own time zone.  It made me forge a strong emotional connection with events there.  Perhaps that is why some of my past posts areas they are.  Emotions were being stretched in every direction.

I have marked the anniversary by playing loads of music and buying a CD off eBay.  That is the first eBay purchase I have made since before I first left for Bulgaria.

That’s it really.  I can’t be bothered writing anything else tonight.

Oh, I can watch the BBC with my dongle even if I can’t watch anything else.  I can watch live tv, but not archives, and I can’t play live radio.

Coded Communication

The reason I disagree with this, from people with power and authority towards people who have been through the mental health system, is that my experience of the mental health system is that they insist it doesn’t happen, and if you say it does it is evidence of mental illness.

My experience of the people who use this form of communication is that they do so in order to be able to insist that you respond on their terms and they get involved on their own terms, otherwise they won’t even acknowledge the communication.  They will stand by and look on silently and impassively as they order you to be taken away.

Their assumed right to do this also assumes that they know everything they need to know to make a decision about a person.  Erm . . . that would make them God, then?

I’m in a dilemma over this.  I’m sure that most of them believe that what they are doing is right.  But I would like to e able to say that the reason I feel so strongly against it is that I have fallen prey of evil people who have perverted its use, but those people would not accept that description and assessment of themselves, and neither would most ‘decent, upstanding people’ accept it of them.

I do feel love, I do feel loyalty, I believe very much in obedience to authority.  I think I do, anyway.  So when I don’t respond to this, I believe it says something bad about me, and I think that is how they see it too.

Am I a person being abused, or am I just a rebel who needs to learn to respect those in authority? If I go to the people I rebel against in tears, will they heal me?  I certainly seem to be making life very hard for myself.  That is the position they take.

The problem is, for me and other survivors of the mental health system, the government validates and upholds the system which says believing we are being communicated with in this way is evidence of mental illness.

So what is the definition of mental illness? Is it, for someone like me, that I want to do what I want to do on my own terms, not on the terms of those who use their form of communication to be able to opt out of committment to a response from the person which is other than they want?  To me, it looks that way.

I thought that living in a democracy meant you could do anything you want to, within the law, on your own terms unless, discounting assault, someone with authority stops you with good reason and in an acceptable way, which, to me in a situation like this, would be with the personal commitment of being explicit about what you are saying, about who you are saying it to, and about what you want, so that everyone watching and listening, including the person themselves, knows what you have said and who you have said it to.

I feel I could just go walking up to these people, at the moment, and find myself embraced and accepted.  That makes me feel that I should drop my insistence that people in authority should not communicate with those without power and authority in code, whatever the communication.  I think they would say it is about testing the heart.  When I started writing this I was ready to maintain that it is an attempt to control a person inappropriately rather than to control a situation and recognise the person’s rights to their own terms of action and understanding. I wonder what kind of Britain it is that would be put at risk by recognising these rights and not acting against them.

I believe that no one in authority who upholds the mental health system has a right to use this form of communication with someone who knows that if there response is considered unacceptable they could well end up back in hospital.  I also wish to maintain that they have no right to take an individual out of that group and try and make them feel secure enough to leave the others behind. if they can do it for one, they can do it for all.  I believe the way to do that for this kind of situation is to make it clear that the mental health practitioners are wrong in their assertions and actions towards people who believe they are being communicated with using any kind of code.

Coded communication I am aware of and that I know others are aware of embraces things like parable, metaphor, storytelling, drama – seeds planted that go for the heart and conscience and which bypass the process of logic.  I heard on Premier Radio that it was C S Lewis who said that was the function of his stories, and Premier Radio accepted the validity and desirability of that without question.

My own life experience, and that of many others, I have to assume,  is that that is not something we have been brought up with with any awareness or security or understanding. That being the case, it is wrong to invalidate us and superimpose it on us at will.

I think that, in most situations, employing means to move the will through the heart bypassing the mind is assuming far too much power.  It assumes too much personal purity and knowledge.

I’m Sue Barnett.  I’m trying to survive the mental health system threat, and until people insisted on knowing everything about me, I was a survivor of sexual and other forms of abuse.  I was satisfied that, as a Christian, the new had come and the old had gone, and that there were some things I didn’t need to talk about.   Because other people were not, and were not prepared to say that to me or to tell me what it was they were concerned about, I have been made a victim of the mental health system and of everyone who is happy to have that fear as a form of control over me because it makes their job easier.  I have been made a victim by people in authority who have used this extreme form of force and invalidation to compensate for their own cowardice, anger and unwillingness to be open without taking control.

The truth is, however I feel, the life I could have known will now never exist.  For them, knowing that I have been a victim of sexual abuse makes them believe they need to take another look and try to restore the relationship, maybe try to help me and so expiate their guilty feelings.  Some want to work even harder to cover what they have done, and so present as believing they need to be even more insistent on the form of communication they are using which will not cover the person who responds to it in the eyes of the mental health system, if the communicators don’t find the response acceptable.  They can invest it with whatever tone or expression of love, authority, disapproval, anger, cajoling, humour, twitting, triumph, positive disengagement they want to, the form of communication is still as compromising to its recipient.

If they want me to go home, the right way to communicate that is to tell me so openly and formally, either giving reasons or saying that they can’t, and to tell me what kind of provision will be made for me if I do what they ask me and what else they want to happen and don’t want to happen, in terms of – well, not knowing whether or not they want to arrest me is one of my greatest anxieties.  Will anyone meet me at the airport and, if so, who and for what purpose?  How will I know them, and that they are who they say they are and want what they say they want?

With good reason I am afraid of force and of violence and of being taken into any kind of detention when no one has told me to expect it.  Making people live with that has to be wrong, in most cases, if not all.  They tell us that if we treat them with respect we will be respected.  Hm. A very easy equation to make, and also one which they don’t impose that often on themselves in any kind of requirement to be the first to show respect in a relationship which has broken down.

Christmas is here.  I feel as if I have deprived myself.  But I believe that other people have been watching my actions with cynicism they have attributed to me.  They seem to think I have done some hard and necessary things just because it is Christmas and I want to have a good one, so they are treating my actions and communications with cynicism and not even acknowledging them.  To me, that makes them the problem, because I don’t work that way.  I would not seek resolution of serious issues involving other people with an eye to having it out of the way by Christmas.  I recently contacted the police complaints department for an update on a complaint they have allowed to lapse for several months without communication.  That was a week ago.  In spite of the seriousness and distressing nature of what is involved, I have still received no reply, and I really believe, given the way they have handled all other communication I have made on this matter, that they have decided I can wait until after Christmas because if I thought I should be able to get it out of the way before then they are going to teach me I can’t do things at my own convenience.  I didn’t even think of Christmas.  I did what I knew I had to do at the time.  If this is the approach they are taking towards me, it is their cynicism, not mine, and is completely contemptuous.  There might be another reason but, if there is, they are not exactly showing any human concern.  I haven’t even had an acknowledgement of the email I sent them, let alone an update.  This must be wrong, especially when I first started trying to deal with it back in March 2009 and they have failed to deliver in terms of the way they said they were going to handle it, even after many attempts to get a clarification.  I’m wondering why I am being held hostage in this way and why I, as the person who made the report and has later complained about the way it has been handled from start to finish in the way they have treated me, am being made to feel as if I don’t matter.  It appears to me that they MUST be trying to hide something.  If they are waiting for me to be prepared to deal with it in the way they think I should be, that is awfully patronising and shows incompetence rather than anything else.  I’ve made the report.  I’ve made the complaint.  I am being ignored on one hand and being put under pressure on the other while they wait for – what?  Perfection in the way I go about things and the way I express my feelings over the situation before they will allow any resolution or progress or closure?  These people, whose officers have been exposed for rape and other misdemeanours?  They think they have a right to hold me, someone who went to them voluntarily, hostage?

You daren’t say too much against these people.  They have ways of making you pay.  Violence, neglect, incarceration under the mental health act, leaving you to deal with abuse and vigilantism in the neighbourhood.  Would they take out a contract on my life?  Would they physically have me killed?  I really don’t know.

Edit note: 11.36 am Bulgarian time:

This post didn’t appear under it’s assigned categories and tags for several minutes.  I thought it wasn’t going to, so I contacted WordPress to ask why.

When I finished (perhaps this is what is commonly called ‘paranoia’, but I don’t think so, though I am in the city centre, more or less), a police car came past with its siren wailing.  It stopped and started and stopped and started, sort, long, it felt deliberately timed and mocking, angry, harassing and threatening.

Now I’m angry.  MY anger is not acceptable, so I am also afraid.  In the light of everything that has happened this year – should I just laugh at myself and stop being so precious and pretentious?  It looks as if I am being targeted for deliberate harassment.  If the action is deliberate, harassment might not be their motivation, it is just the quickest interpretation people arrive at. But whatever the motivation, if it IS deliberate, it is experienced as harassment and contempt and provocation, and knowing that might be what they want, I am angry, and sick with fear because of that possibility.  Because when that happens, it is normal, and right, to want to confront the human beings responsible.  But if I did I would come off worst.  That is how people become mentally ill.  Not being allowed to confront what is wrong with what is right, and having to pretend compliance where it is absolutely wrong, in the face of authorities and powerful organisations and individuals who pretend they are not doing what they most obviously and certainly seem to be doing.  I’m afraid, because they might be using this kind of activity towards me to get me to reveal my identity and whereabouts.  Even though my landlord, I think, has to give them that information anyway.  I’m afraid because, when I think I am wrong, I feel it deeply, and they make me feel that way all the time.  I’m afraid because my normal mode is love and respect, and they seem to enjoy invalidating that, or misappropriating it.  I feel stupid.  I think that is what they want me to feel.  Back off and watch a woman being abused and wait until she cries for help, realising how right they really are and acknowledging how wrong she really is.

Um . . .

Is It True?

Is it true that foreigners come to Bulgaria and buy property which then stands empty?  Is it true that there are not many foreigners here who come and stay?

As a single woman I just get the impression that they don’t even like us all that much, if at all, they just want our money. That must be the impression many people get, or they wouldn’t give up and sell up at a loss.

Whose idea was it to tell British people that Bulgaria is a good investment?  If it wasn’t for the fact that so many people give up, I would have every reason to think it is just me.

Why do people give up?  Anyone out there, please say, if you know from experience.

The bloody security guards in Billa try and treat me as if they are fucking arresting me, for God’s sake!  Give some men a uniform . . .  They don’t even have the decency to leave a woman alone.  It’s monstrous, imposing their person on me like that.  It’s just disgusting.  What do they want from me, a cuddle or something?  I just go to do my damn shopping, not to be ritually humiliated by all and sundry.

This country deserves to stay poor.  It isn’t just corruption.  Or if it is, it’s everywhere and expressive in every way.

Maybe that is a good argument for not making people take jobs they don’t want serving people they despise and want to rip off.  It’s bad for business.  Let the people who want to work work and let the rest stay on benefits.  Ultimately it will be more profitable.  IMHO.

I’ve just had a memory blank on the results of my search on media stalking, but when I did a search on media harassment, almost everything that comes tagged in that way is complaining about harassment of and attacks on media people and organisations.

There is very little categorised under this heading which addresses what I thought should obviously be addressed by this section, the harassment of people and groups outside of the media by the media.  What I did find was written by a dedicated law firm which, when I left a comment months ago, didn’t post it or contact me as I had asked.

I had a phone conversation this morning.  It went the way of all phone conversations.  It started off OK, but towards the end of the conversation the woman lowered the tone of her voice from what had felt open and friendly to something else, and I had to quickly regather myself because I censor myself from expressing my disturbance over that kind of thing.  I have to be upbeat on the phone, and can’t get into conversations, normally, objecting to a turn the conversation has taken.  For one thing, people are listening.  It would be humiliating and embarassing.

Think of it.  I get on the phone hoping and praying and doing everything I can to make sure a conversation goes well and the way I want it to, because the alternative is to feel humiliated and embarassed in front of the people who are monitoring my call.  This is a ludicrous mindset to have to be in.  I can’t cope with problems in a conversation because of what my stalkers will think and do with it.  I pick up the phone and dial, assuring myself that I am in control and it is going to be OK, and when it isn’t I’m not ready to cope with it.  I got off the phone today and thought it had been a psychological hold-up.  Maybe it was or wasn’t, but the stalking element leaves me feeling paralysed.  It’s like being held down while people rape you.

I realised to day that part of the reason I get angry with the ‘shmooziness’  of some news readers etc is that they are shmoozy because they are happy about stuff relating to me that they have no right of access to anyway.  Their very happiness and, for me as the target, unhidden use of what they know and their assumption that it is OK, makes me angry.  It happens even, and maybe especially, with people I think seem nice.  David Edes, Tim Willcox, Tommy Boyd, Hew Edwards.  There are women, I can’t remember their names.  They appear to be taking pleasure in me, and I am still out here, unable to breathe, trying to live my life on the terms I have a right to, and they have no right to what they have.

This actually makes me lose my sympathy with the cause of free speech and freedom of the press.  I’m seeing the stories about limitations on the media in other countries and thinking it might not be such a bad thing.  The rulers rule and the amoral ‘free press’ causes unrest, or at least stokes it.  That’s not good.  I believe we need a free press, but their irresponsibility and in some cases criminality (some things that are designated crimes are rightly so designated) might actually be undermining their necessary and legitimate continuance.  And other countries look to the example set by the west, and however bad things might be, they don’t want the alternative bad they see with us.

This is not my cause.  My cause is to try and salvage my own life.

I watched some Bulgarian TV last night.  I switched on to a comedy show where someone was dressed up as an orthodox priest, and within seconds he was gesturing as if to suggest women’s breasts, he said something about a baby, he said something which sounded like Sklave, and stuck 2 fingers up at the camera.

I can’t cope.  I’m frightened, these men look terrifying to me.  And you’re telling some awful stories about crimes that take place in some Eastern European countries, like the one about people being killed for their organs you came out with yesterday.  I’ve never heard you say that the same thing happens in the west, but I think common sense says it must do?  UK media, church, and politicians, you have done this to me.  How are you going to put it right?  People that look like me and people I know are flashed on news programmes all the time.  It used to be my immediate neighbours in London.  Now it is my neighbours and landlords and transport providers and supermarket staff in Bulgaria.  Do you think I want anything to do with you?  Do you think I should trust you?

Laura Koensberg (not sure of spelling).  Now there is a piece of work.  She and people like her are dangerous.  All they care about is what they think is their right to their own workspace.

It’s not just a rant, it’s what I really think and feel, most of the time.  Every time I say something against someone I feel sympathy for them and end up thinking I shouldn’t say it.  But I have a right to be wrong.  If she cares she can contact me, or sue me.  But it’s a big ‘if’, isn’t it?


They pipe English language pop music in Billa.  When I first started going one I kept hearing was something along the lines of ‘she hides a guilty secret inside’.  I thought at the time it might just be general mysogyny, but yesterday when I went in they were playing Amy Winehouse’s Rehab, following my post 2 days ago with Jools Holland in the title.  Then (horror) it was followed by a song which started like a modern worship song with the sustained hum, and talked about damage she had done which she couldn’t undo.  I feel like scum for resisting this.

But it isn’t me that needs to change on this.  However accustomed I might feel able to become to it, it is still harassment.  The body language of the staff is holding and controlling, and when I start to walk away they go into a little flutter of what looks like consternation.  A general supermarket surely isn’t supposed to be an organ knowingly used for religious reasons?  But it’s more than that, it is specifically designed narrowcasting at me.  It does sound ridiculous doesn’t it?  I agree.

I’m sorry, I don’t get it.  But it’s playing havoc with my own ability to cope and to communicate and be open.

I can’t understand why, if there is an issue, the appropriate authorities can’t approach me and talk about it.  I feel like a dog they are nervous about, being approached with caution with the back of their hand held out for me to sniff, and it’s crazy.  It’s really, really crazy.  And completely inappropriate.

And they stand bolt upright, shoot their hands out when it comes to money, slam things down on the tables.  It leaves me reeling.  And it appears that the worse the state it gets me in, the more they believe they have a right to judge me and misbehave.  Because in England that’s what it would be.  Misbehaviour.

The Estate Agents’ website I’ve been looking at gives me the impression that British people are selling their properties in droves at low prices.  Maybe this is par for the course.  They’re driving us away.  I don’t know if it’s intentional or not.  Is it arrogant of me to assume that the reason they have tried to attract us is that they want our revenue?  In that case, they need to drop their corruption and the resulting cowardice and accept us as we are, not bombard us with distressing behaviour, whether actively or passively.

My First Time In a Mental Hospital

I watched TV a lot, because I seemed to be being bombarded with images of people in my life, or at least within my orbit.  It might be more accurate to say that I was within their orbit.

During my first few days I saw a lookalike of Gerald Coates in Parliament on a news programme.  I said so out loud and one of the nurses said, ‘we’ve got to put a stop to this’ – meaning me, not what was on the telly!  Later I saw David Shuchman, a reporter on the news, name sounds like David Shearman, pastor of the church where I spent my teens and who is involved with parliament.  I was particularly disturbed by his name because I heard it as ‘shoeman’, because David had wanted me to take my shoes off once during a service.  It wasn’t a direct request or command, but something he said which seemed to be general from the platform.  I didn’t do it, I didn’t want to.  It somehow felt like an illicit shortcut in dealing with relationship issues.

What really freaked me one night was a film I saw, with Susan Sarandon, about a couple and a child, I think.  One of the people in it had skin identical to Colin Dye’s, I had seen that in the trailer, and it immediately had my attention.  I watched it from the beginning.  It was a pastiche of what was happening with me and the church.  There were church scenes in it, the first one I remember had a stern header over the church, something along the lines of ‘do what’s right because it’s right’.  The other I remember was at the end, where this woman, who seemed to be me, came into the church dishevelled and on her knees seeking forgiveness.  It was appalling.  Shortly before that there had been a golfing scene between people who seemed to represent John Coles (big golfer) and Colin Dye, and they were saying they seemed to have the same woman in common, the woman who seemed to represent me.  I was at that time visiting several churches, these were two of them.

Right at the beginning of the film there was a big car crash scene involving the person who looked like Colin Dye.  I had been watching intently up to that point, but when I saw that I left the room distraught and in tears, wondering what they were doing to him.  I suppose he would say my concern was misplaced and inappropriate.  A nurse came out to me and asked me what was the matter, and I told her, and she said ‘it’s only a film’.  I knew there was more to it than that, but I didn’t know how it was working, I thought it was something psychic, and I was frightened and broken down, and angry as well.  This was the first time I had encountered anything like this, to my knowledge.  There has been plenty more since.

Why don’t people listen when you say what is happening, instead of dismissing it, sometimes as mental illness, just because THEY don’t understand it and have no frame of reference for dealing with it?

So anyway, that was the TV side of things.  Apart from that, I wasn’t allowed of the ward for ages, it might have been weeks, not even escorted, and I spent 11 days without a toothbrush or toothpaste, even though I had asked for it.  Because of what I was seeing, including the fact that the wards had Biblical names, I thought I was with church people and this was somehow part of leadership training, preparation and selection, and that the delay in receiving toothpaste and a toothbrush was one among many deliberate tests I had to pass, and that this was a deliberate test of my patience and my willingness to wait in trust.  For the same reason, when I was asked if I wanted to appeal my section and told that I had a right to a solicitor, I said that I trusted the hospital staff and the people in church who had decided I should be there, and I didn’t want to appeal.  I was taken off my section, but I had nowhere to go for home, and an ex-army bully, Nick Caswell, said, ‘but you will be straight back on it if you don’t take your medication’.  I didn’t believe that was saying I would become ill again if I didn’t take the medication, but a threat of what would happen if I didn’t conform to the regime while I was in hospital.  His subsequent behaviour towards me bears this out.  He once bent my hand forward so hard and so far that it continues to hurt for 6 months afterards.  I told him at the time he was hurting me, and he said, ‘you’ll learn your lesson then, won’t you?’

One of the things that bothers me about the way this is being handled with the people I choose to communicate with is that, whatever I say, they react to it as if it is the first time they have heard it.  But now I know they knew a lot before, even before I told them.  Quite how much I don’t know.  That hurts.  I trusted them, but it seems they secured a lot of that trust by deceit.

I feel guilt towards people, and I don’t even know if it is appropriate.  I wish I had trusted Tommy more.  But I’m confused about that as well.  But I just feel as if his presence is always with me, waiting for me to turn.  It is solidly behind me.  Yet he’s not there.  Is it just a dramatic persona he projects, or is he really there for me?  Given a choice, I’d far rather be romanced than threatened.  That has been most other people’s approach – police, politicians, housing, psychiatric staff.  Church.  Tommy is a man I wish I could have a relationship with (pick up your mental eraser and scrub out ‘sexual’ from your mind, you horrible slime, any official thinking that!).

I’m tired and overwrought.  It’s been a bad month.  I tried to leave Bulgaria twice, to pick up some clothes and come back, but both times I was arrested and not allowed to fly.  And everyone at home who has been involved so far, largely without my permission, knew all about that before I even said anything about it to anyone.  The only people who knew were airport staff and police, someone at the home office (or foreign office) who was called by the police and spoke to me on the phone while I was with the police the first day, and staff of the British Embassy.  I don’t know which of them told church people, or how media people seemed to be running with it.  I didn’t break silence for a week, and I only did so because of threatening noises that I was going to be taken out of the situation on mental health grounds, which I interpreted to mean I was going to be taken out under a section and put in hospital when I got home, which is how conflict has always been handled in the past.  I broke silence and gave my version of events because I was terrorised, by remarks coming from the House of Commons (no, not in my head, bozo, I watch it on the internet!).  I spent £1,000 trying to get back.  Credit card money.  I can’t afford to risk more without an assurance from the people issuing cute or desperate calls that this time I am going to be unhindered in my efforts.  I’m on benefits.  I can’t afford it, financialy or emotionally.

All the stuff about fatwas, etc.  Is that just more lies to sabotage my attempts to move forward with my life in peace?  I think it probably is, you know.  These people know how to manipulate my self-righteousness and self-pity.  I am so miserable.  I’ve stayed in the house for over 3 weeks now, for fear of what might happen if I go out, partly, and also because I can’t deal with my embarrassment at how stupid I’ve been believing this while I am seeing images of people in my vilage on television.  If they can see them, they can see me, and I feel crippled by self-consciousness.  How have they got their images?  Have people come forward voluntarily in response to the garbage put out by the media, or are they getting them some other way?  I had great hopes for Bulgaria.  I can’t find a way to recover the joy.  I feel there will always be a shadow over me here.  We are told that Bulgarian people welcome other cultures.  My neighbours welcomed me.  I’ve never had such kind neighbours.  But I’m not sure what they were expecting.  I’m not convinced, entirely, that I’m dealing with a general anti-British nationalism.  What if I’M the one that’s prejudiced?  These media people, they say ‘torture is not culture’, but what have THEY been doing or allowing to be done to me for years?  Hmm? (warding off an effing and blinding attack).  Dem people, dey hypocrites, or dey conveniently forget.  God bless America (sorry, forgot, I’m English!)

That’s another thing (my posts always leave the original topic).  What does my friend, and Prime Minister, David Cameron, think he is doing posturing my homeland as a junior partner in a relationship with another country?  how DARE he?  In what sense are we junior?  Fighting terrorism, because 9/11 was an event in America?  We are independent (every time I get a run on thinking the kids screech.  I’m so raw and terrified, it’s making me feverish and tearful.  I can’t follow through, I can’t get to the end of my thoughts.  For fuck’s sake, it’s theft.  Anywhere I go now as a result of someone else’s input will not be where I was originally going to go, and where I would have gone without the interference would, at the very least, have been right and better for me, if not everyone else.  I feel bad.  I feel as if I am resisting their attempts to love and embrace me.  But we have no common language yet.  I love hearing their voices.  I feel as if I am in a bad place without them.  But I also need space and privacy to do my own thing?  Problem – I don’t believe myself.  Is this insistence of mine on preserving my own space just a perpetuation of the abnormal and dysfunctional approach which has been taken towards ME for years? The longer I wait, the more sick and frightening the sounds become.  It renders me inarticulate.  That seems to be what everybody always wants.  Articulate OK, as long as you say what we want you to say, when we want you to say it.  Whatever you say beyond the questions and concerns WE have doesn’t matter.  I want to hit these kids, they are really pushing it.  Why don’t their parents do something?  Don’t they realise how cruel and thoughtless it is to do this to someone who doesn’t even speak their language?  Do they think I don’t have a life in here?  They are banging the bins now.  I feel inadequate.  I’m failing.  It’s MY fault.  I’m sick in my stomach.  I’m full of tears.  My throat feels strange.  I can’t release it.  Their insolent, angry, demanding faces.  Little changelings.  Sometimes I think it is people in Bulgarian media putting them up to it or provoking them to it.  I suppose Bulgaria is also hacking my computer.  I’ve seen this before, and I’ve watched videos years later where it seemed that was what was happening.  With all the stuff being said about Russia and everything, I’m really frightened.  I think Bulgaria won’t let me leave.  I am not a performing animal.  I’m not a hamster, to be woken up and got out to play with at someone else’s whim.  And it isn’t only my own conscience which is making me so crushed.  Is this what they think of as love and normal community living?  Am I the one out of step?  It feels like it.  It feels like it because the media likes to present it that way.  These kids are giddy and out of control.   I can’t be expected to deal with it, I’m traumatised and I don’t have the language.  Someone is whipping them up.  If someone can stop my tears and return me to joy, that will be quite a feat.  I invite you to try, if you think you are capable or have the right.  If kids are going to interfere with people like this, they need their bottoms smacked.  They obviously don’t respect anything else.  In fact, they play on the fact that that isn’t going to happen, and allowing that kind of disrespect towards adults is not acceptable, especially not towards adults they have no right to be targeting with their boundary testing.  As an idealist I think communities should be run around childen, but sometimes you have to do other things.  There has to be a place, doesn’t there, for saying ‘enough is enough’, and have it respected just because you say so?  You can’t always talk about winning or forfeiting the right, because some people don’t WANT you to win the right or regain it if you ‘forfeit’ it.  Children are NOT little innocents, and however that has come about, you can’t deal with things by assuming that they are and have a right to be, always.  Aren’t I allowed my own time and space to renegotiate the relationship?  They seem to be trying to drag me out like the woman caught in adultery [whose side Jesus was on, by the way].  First they utter a war cry, then they bang something, then they make a hard, vomiting sound from their throats.  Who is teaching them to handle themselves in this way?).   DISCLAIMER:  MY FEELINGS AND EXPRESSED OPINIONS ABOUT KIDS MIGHT NOT BE RELIABLE TODAY, IN MY CURRENT EMOTIONAL STATE.  BUT SAYING HOW YOU FEEL IS STILL THE BEST WAY TO DEAL WITH IT, IF PEOPLE ARE NOT BEATING ON YOU AT YOUR EVERY THOUGHT.  EXCEPT THERE ARE THINGS I DON’T SAY, ABOUT HOW WRONG I BELIEVE I AM, BECAUSE I AM NOT WITH THE PEOPLE I BELIEVE CAN HELP ME BE RIGHT.  My internet connection has ‘been down’ for the last 30 minutes or so.

Was it David or Solomon that said days would come when people would say, ‘if only I had accepted discipline?’  That is how I am feeling now.  I’m not sure where that fits in with the fact that I have been treated so inhumanly and torturously, and I’m not sure that David or Solomon was right in the first place to say such a thing in such an unqualified way.  Are we wrong to focus so much on human rights?  I’ve heard preachers say that people want rights without responsibilities.  I can see that is sometimes true, or at least appears to be (people say a lot of things in bravado or defiance of the truth they know because they daren’t reveal their heart).  But surely it has to be true that sometimes leaders say this kind of thing to avoid having to deal with issues in their handling of their authority.  I don’t feel I have any right to be saying this stuff.  I’m not a leader.  Who is going to help me if I alienate myself from my leaders?  But even the Bible says there were good kings and bad kings.  One of them refused the advice he was given not to lay a heavy burden on the people, and the people revolted.  It doesn’t say they were wrong.  In fact, according to the Bible, God never wanted them to have a king in the first place.  According to the Bible, God SAID that kings would rob people blind and make them slaves.  On that basis it seems to me that the embraced task of a Christian monarch should be to work actively towards dissolving the monarchy.  I’m not sure how much of that I said in the letter I never sent which I believe was illegally accessed on my computer, but David seems to be making a good job of appearing to have that kind of mission as his goal, at least in terms of government, if not of monarchy.  I still think they got it off my computer.  You can’t prove that kind of thing, though, without money, or unless people are willing to stand up and say (I’ve just realised I can’t spell it!) ‘mea culpa’.  That’s not going to happen, is it?

I’m listening to a recording of the end of Premier Breakfast.  What I’ve just heard might explain some of the violent emotions and phenomena.  If you believe in that sort of thing.  These people pipe so purely you think they don’t accept any of it, even though people into spiritual warfare and deliverance teach it.

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