Tag Archive: Bullying


I was playing Krishna Das earlier and trying to sing (the bit about singing was an edit at the end and the woman again reacted.  It is all about psychological intimidation, invalidation and control, dominance.  I call her a dominatrix, and I am right, and what they are doing is wrong and illegal.  She, in particular, keeps snatching at me) and the woman next door was insinuating herself on it in a way which was making me think that what she was doing was OK and I was the unreasonable one, not to fall in line with what they want with me, not to acknowledge and release the joy I felt towards them and forgive and forget and be friends. But that would be foolish and delusional.  You can’t let yourself do that with such harassment and computer hacking.  That would, indeed, be madness.  I just had the news on and she was doing the same thing, deliberate, targeted, militant criminal harassment, imposing herself on my mind so everything gets mixed up and every engagement is shallow – or a mess, like this post is turning out to be (again, here, she cries out). They have me feeling guilty for losing it with them, and when I mount a successful challenge and accurate assessment of what she is doing, suddenly the man comes in with his contemptuous, violent, assaulting voice to his harassing little girl’s little rescue. SHE is not supposed to be there. There is one tenancy holder who, as I understand it, is supposed to be the sole tenant. He is viciously organising and supporting this harassment against me in his bungalow. It is truly horrific. He’s started making a pathetic-sounding little noise now. It is all bullying and manipulation. The lesson they are trying to teach me is what happens when I stand up to the neighbourhood mafia and bully. That is the way I perceive it, anyway, unless he is getting angry with the woman and not me. But it has been going on for months and he can hear the distress it is causing me. If he was angry with her, he might apologise to me and stop her coming and causing trouble. As far as I am concerned, she definitely needs to go and not come back. They’ve been doing the baby interrogation on me as well. For months. Really gleeful, invasive, vicious and exultant.  A bit of gang stalking going on. And gang stalking is definitely a crime. I call it mafia activity. My psychologist says I shouldn’t use that term if I don’t want to be seen as paranoid if I talk to the police, but I think that is what it is. They don’t all go around in Italian suits and flash cars, and even the police will know and acknowledge that, I would hope, without putting the use of the term belittlingly down to paranoia. Some of it is little people, like neighbours, store staff, bus drivers, hairdressers, restaurant staff.  Some are a bit bigger – police, psychiatry, arts and media and religious organisations.  Who knows where it starts, or how and why?  She just cried out pathetically when I typed restaurant staff. I think she might be calling on God for help with what she can see while she is hacking my computer. Did you ever hear anything so demonic and warped, to do to a neighbour? Of course, it could be a psychic reaction. I can’t prove it’s not, but I’ve heard plenty of ‘yeses’ at things I’ve said on Facebook as well. My father’s death, my brother’s death, my niece’s death, desperately and indecently invasive of privacy and intimacy (she’s reacting again), thing’s I’ve said to Krishna Das in the early days. Yessing at things on recordings and videos, throughout. They have been reacting, I believe, in different ways all the time I have been writing and editing this post and the message seems to be ‘we are reacting to what we can see hacking your computer and we are making sure you know about it.  We aren’t going to stop.  We will impose an illegal reaction and sound on every statement’.  If no one helps me with this, shame on everyone who has abandoned me to deal with it alone. Shame on contemptuous and cowardly authorities, in particular.  I posted about them once using Nottingham Police and Nottingham City Homes tags, and no one got in touch with me.  I think they should have done, so I’m going to do it again.  She is giggling as I am adding tags.  They went ever so quite (but she has immediately challenged that observation with another mischievous and contemptuous mutter) when I used the term ‘mafia haunting’.  That is a term I learned from Tommy Boyd when he said someone offered to carry one out for him and he declined.  He described it, what sort of thing it is.  Man coughs nervously.  Wishes he wasn’t seeing this.  That is the problem, hacking computers, Mr Mann.  You sometimes see more than you bargained for and wish you hadn’t.  A spot on description of yourself and what you are involved in towards me, I must presume.  Stop going for the throat of my communication and expression.  Leave me and my home alone.  I keep telling you, all of you in there.  Another little noise from his poor little voice.  Masters of illusion.  Please, have mercy on a poor, mafia-haunting bully next door, a mister entitled to rule and dominate and interfere man and his family (or whoever) who never leaves you alone.  Ha ha. Please, please.

Yep.  11 Birchwood Road, Wollaton, Nottingham.  Come and dig me out.  Rescue my soul from these dogs (as King David – and we all love Him – says in the Psalms).  He’s making a little, ‘no, I’m not a dog, I’m a nice man’ noise now.   Computer hacker – etc?  I’m in control of this communication, and yes, you and the rest of you in there, you are dogs.  Militant, satanic, mafia-style criminals.  Hate crime, me?  No, a reaction to one.  Psychological torture and vicious cruelty.  This language – this contemptuous, hateful language I am using?  It comes from being attacked by and exposed to these people all the time I am at home, and they get me feeling so debilitated I often feel afraid to go out.  Filthy, machine, violent, angry, harassing voices, both men and woman.  However soft they sometimes (and she most of the time) contrive to sound.  Please help me.  I’m not crazy or mentally ill.  I’m being targeted and tortured by my neighbours and otherwise ignored by the rest as far as they can.  I’ve said this for years and keep ending up in hospital.  I told my neighbours, hoping it would empower them to go to the police themselves, and instead they are using it as part of their terror campaign against me.  It got particularly bad about 8 or 9 months ago.  It had been going on at a low level for ages before, then he openly, outside my bungalow, came past swearing and shouting ‘leave’.  A little while later I began screaming and shouting for them to leave me alone and they have treated it all with complete lock-down and contempt.  Her soft little purring sounds – I wonder if they are supposed to reassure the sole male tenant that everything is going to be all right?  I wonder if they have had such assurances given them from outside when I have written about them before, particularly on Facebook last night?  I strongly suspect so.  It is possible this pressure cooker environment they have created towards me and my home and activities has got my imagination working overtime, but I would rather it did that than not work at all.  I just don’t like the material it is having forced on it to deal with.

I don’t expect anyone to respect me for posting this.  I have sent emails to John.Pantry@premier.org.uk before, and to the station’s director, Peter Kerridge, years ago.  In the end I gave up, they never answered.  This one hasn’t been answered either.  If I were a faithful person I would wait for someone to contact me, trusting this has been passed on and is being dealt with.  Everyone knows, however, that I am not a faithful person.  I expect all my leaders and teachers to disapprove of what I am doing, and I also fear I might get myself killed or something, or that I will be put back in hospital, posting this.  My neighbour and his group are still confusing me, reacting to everything I’m doing all the time.  I feel like a dead body that the vultures are feeding on.

I have written before, years ago, about the times I urinated on the Church steps.  They keep brandishing it, as I say in my email, and stabbing at me with it.  It’s not only one or two, it’s all of them, but an example I can point you to is Rosie Wright this morning on Inspirational Breakfast, just before she started talking to people about the election result.  That’s what I think, anyway.  She said ‘we’ in a certain way, followed up by ‘been’.  I suppose her defence will be, if she feels she needs to give one, that it can’t be proved.  I found the way people were talking afterwards interesting, though.  It sounded not quite normal to me.  The copy of the email follows this long account of events leading up to the church steps event.

At the time this happened it was during the Toronto Blessing phenomenon in Church.  Often, when I was at my most vulnerable and open, the Church warden at St Barnabas in Finchley, John Knight, at the time, would rattle keys near me, which frightened me because I always thought it meant I had to get up because he wanted to lock up.  I don’t remember anyone ever having come to me to pray for me, though I think that is what they did with other people.  I was always thrown out into the street, blasted wide open and disorientated.  Sometimes I hung around outside the building, into the night, afraid to leave the vicinity, feeling as if part of me was stuck inside and I couldn’t go home without it.  When I did go home I was in a complete state all the way.

John Coles, the vicar at the time, did a series on Nehemiah once, a chapter a week.  I would turn up, unprepared, not having read the chapter (we weren’t expected to), and feel as if I was being dragged around all over the place.  So one day I decided to take control of and responsibility for my experience and read the chapter ahead of time so I might be more prepared.  He looked at me sitting in the congregation and said ‘the enemy reads ahead’.  I felt completely damned and didn’t know how to handle it.  To me, he had said it, that was that.  The same night I went forward and was lying on the steps to the platform and my legs started to shake vigorously and uncontrollably for several minutes.  No one came near me.  I went back the next week feeling wiped out.  Someone said shaking was a sign of judgment.  During the time that followed the service where the Holy Spirit was invited I was lying tired and exhausted on the floor and when i opened my eyes to get up I found that John Coles was lying at my feet.  I didn’t know what to do with it.  I got up and sat on a chair and talking with one of the other guys about my age at the time I just told him I felt sick.  Sometimes I wouldn’t get involved with the Holy Spirit paddling pool at the end, I would sit it out, because I thought I owed John and Anne something and had no right to try and get involved with the blessing time at the end.  I think they might have thought I was somehow resisting and disapproving, but I wasn’t, I was trying to show them honour and respect by not indulging myself in a ministry time while I thought things weren’t good between us.

I had previously asked John and his wife to forgive me for any hurt I had caused them, and as they had before, they said I hadn’t hurt them, but that there was no relationship.  So this time, instead of letting myself get all upset about it, I accepted it, deciding they couldn’t have a relationship with everyone, and I could just sit in the congregation and listen and try and be supportive in the best way I knew.  They weren’t happy with this either.  They seemed to be unhappy that I had accepted what they had said without contesting it.  If he looked at me in the congregation I would smile.  That was it.  he started trying to turn things around, get a different sort of response from me.  To get away from the pressure I started going to some other churches mid-week (I believed this was the right thing to do based on something I had read in the book the counsellors I had seen had asked me to read, saying you should shift your attention elsewhere), and they put pressure on me, too.  I had recently been introduced to the concept of boundaries by some counsellors I was told to see by a pastor connected to a Bible college I used to go to after I told him I kept feeling I needed to kneel to him but didn’t dare, and he picked a fight with me over it, saying on no account must I kneel to him.  He seemed to be teasing and taunting me at the end of services as he finished his sermons, saying ‘I’m going to the back now’ and things like that, and I was sitting there really upset, though I didn’t make a scene or anything.  He discussed it with other people involved in running the college and they decided I shouldn’t even be allowed into the building if that was what I wanted to do.  So I ended up with these counsellors, a man and wife, and she dropped out after a week or two, and the man saw me with another woman sitting in, and he used to pray really rigid prayers about what he wanted God to do for me and for Him to show me that this and that were not the answer.  I didn’t feel supported by the woman, I felt she was there as a witness and for his protection.  Anyway, He wanted me to read a book called Love Is A Choice, about establishing boundaries.  One of the things it said was that sometimes you needed to act from your mind rather than your emotions.  On that basis I used to go to churches wanting to listen to and think about what was being said without getting emotionally involved, and this attitude seemed to upset people, and they made me a recipient of what I felt to be negative attention and pressure.  I was called a witch a few times at Kensington Temple.  One man I tried to say a friendly hello to one day in the congregation took an attitude against me and was only happy when it was obvious I was really upset.  He smiled broadly then, with great satisfaction.  Killed me.  All this, and more, happened before I eventually ended up in a mental hospital for the first time.

Anyway, drawing these bits together: one day I was at St Barnabas for some reason talking to John Knight at the door and I asked if I could use the toilet (I used to have keys to the building before that, and was rudely asked for them back as I was trying to finish off a job).  I suppose I wasn’t servile and submissive enough, because he told me they would rather I went to the toilet in the tube station a little way up the road (this was after my first admission to a mental hospital).  On one of the nights, a week or two later, that I was scared to move away from the building I suddenly needed a loo, but there wasn’t one.  I thought about it, and apart from the fact that I had to go (it didn’t occur to me to go in the bushes or anything) I thought, ‘if they are going to call me a witch I might as well do something a witch might do and see what happens’.  I also thought it would be getting back at them for not having let me use the toilet previously when I had asked.  So I just used the steps up to one of the side doors.  Then sat there for the rest of the night, staring at it and thinking that I had thought it would dry, but it wasn’t doing.  I felt really weird.  Early in the morning I thought to myself that I ought to go home, that I had to go home, that something bad was going to happen if I didn’t.  But I didn’t go.  I hung around the tube station, feeling horrified at everything, and in the early afternoon I started to make my way to the vicarage up the road.  I bumped into Anne Coles.  I think I asked her if there was any chance I could go with John on his weekend mission trip to another church.  I really wanted to go, so I thought the only thing I could do was ask, or I might miss an opportunity.  Anyway, it wasn’t possible.  She said something about the fact that i had been hanging around all morning in the area (I suppose other people must have seen me and told her, but I hadn’t seen them.  She was carrying a big sack of carrots and said she wondered if she would be able to get it inside.  I instinctively went to help her and she swept the sack up and whisked it away from me.  I think she eyed me all the way to her front door then went inside.  I was really upset.  I felt completely desperate about everything.

So anyway, that is the story of the first time I urinated on the church steps.  The main reason was I needed to go.  The symbolism of it frightened me, that it had been in my mind and I had acted on it.  But in my opinion my leaders made it worse by being paranoid about it themselves.  They seemed to be totally freaked and wanted to take control but never said anything except that now he wanted me to sit right at the back in the corner of the church where the steps were.  I used to sit at the front, he said the keen ones sat at the front.  That was the only reference he ever made to it.  I believe symbolism only has the power we allow it.  I think the way they handled it, and have handled it over the years, made things worse.  It was 20 years ago, and they are still using it.  I can’t remember the reason I did it the second time, but I think they were controlling and I was symbolically trying to get control back.  Things are still so bad, I have felt so criminally and dishonestly treated by them over the years, that even after I wrote this email on Tuesday I thought to myself, ‘I would do it again’.

Just before these incidents I had been at Nottingham Christian Centre, as it used to be, after my first hospital admission.  I kept getting to church and feeling I should go and speak to David Shearman (one of his elders had told me to stay around, so I did for several weeks), and sitting down not daring to go near him and feeling really upset and guilty.  He would start calling me, so it seemed to me, and I would just sit there thinking it was me who was supposed to go to him without him asking.  This went on for weeks.  The first week he had passed where I was sitting and I had put my hand in his, like a child with a father.  He held it while he walked, then he just dropped it.  While he was preaching he looked at me and said ‘you tried to split a church’.  I didn’t say anything, it was in the middle of a sermon, it didn’t seem appropriate and he didn’t seem to want an answer, but I just looked at him and sat thinking, ‘no, I didn’t’.  He said something about ‘she doesn’t listen to anyone’.  At the end of the sermon he told people to close the doors, that it was a powerful thing to do, that there would be ‘no accursed thing’ in his church.  I had said to someone that I had been cursed at St Barnabas.  I thought he was calling me an accursed thing.  I went in one morning a few weeks later and I can’t remember why, but I burst into desperate tears in the middle of a congregational song, and the worship leader said ‘it’s raining!’  I had had this in hospital, and it really upset me here.  I think it was a week before that David Shearman had read the bit from Song of Solomon where it says ‘the winter is past the summer is come arise my love come to me’, or something like that.  I was sure he was saying it to me, but I had no idea what to do with it.  I wanted to go to him, but didn’t, and I felt bad that I didn’t.  Anyway, on the ‘it’s raining’ day David came charging past my seat like an upset bull, and I was sat forward with my head in my hands, terrified.  He had made a lot of references to Colin Dye at Kensington Temple that I thought were directed at me.  One night he read a passage where a prophet says to a king, or something like that, that although there is no food today, tomorrow there will be an abundance, but he would get none of it.  I thought that was aimed at me as well and I was frightened and angry, then he said, ‘put your hand up if you want the food’, and I refused, it felt humiliating.  I got to church one morning and was turned away, being told they had instructions not to let me in.  That was my teen years church home.  I was devastated.  On the day I cried I think they had called the authorities and had me admitted to hospital and this was the next week.  I went back to the hospital ward and the significance I felt was attached to what had just happened overwhelmed me and I kept screaming.  One of the nurses ordered me to stop screaming.  She didn’t ask me what was wrong, what had happened, and offered no comfort or support.  I felt homeless.  This was before I returned to London and was so out of control that I even thought about identifying with the accusations that I was supposed to be a witch.  I have been taught by at least one teacher that the essence of witchcraft is control.  I felt this was what they had been doing to me for years and I hit back.

—///—

Were it not for the fact that neither John Pantry nor Peter Kerridge ever reply to my emails I might have warned them that I was going to make this email public if they didn’t reply.  I did think about it but decided it would be a waste of time.

Dear John

 
The Manchester suicide bombing took place on 22nd May, the 45th anniversary of my father’s death which the coroner, without any statement of intent from my father, decided was suicide.  I believe you are aware of this and of other such coincidences as I have written about them on my blog, which I have reasons to believe you have been following, along with all my Facebook and Twitter activities and my email correspondences.  I am sure there must be other things, too.
 
You have been ‘narrowcasting’ to and/or about me now for years.  I have long said this is a human rights abuse, especially since you know that part of the reason for my mental health diagnosis is that I insist this is happening.  I have emailed you before, in tones you might not have liked, about this and you have always refused to answer my emails, and so has Peter Kerridge.
 
Now you seem to be putting out a barely covert appeal for me to come forward in some way.  It seems to me to have become more urgent since 22nd May.  I remember specifically hearing it in the last half hour of the show on 23rd.
 
I am finding this very disorientating.  I have said before that, because of your activities towards me, which I have believed to be illegal, and your pushing of the mental health agenda and the way you and others have used it in MY life, that the Church unrepentant on these things is not something I would feel either safe or honourable getting involved with again.  You might soften for me, but what about other people like me?  I have always said this.
 

It seems to me that the fact that you won’t just make contact with me openly, by email or something, means you still want to cover and justify your illegal harassment and, what seems to me, dishonest and cowardly pursuit of and agenda towards me.

 
These attacks are happening.  I’m not carrying them out.  It seems to me that if they are in any way connected with me, I am just an excuse.  You may or may not be able to begin to understand what effect that is having on my life.  Until now, it seems to me, it has not been that important to you, you seem to have dismissed or thought unimportant everything I have had to say about it.  But now you seem to be calling me forward for some reason.  I am wondering why, what you think can be done about it, how I can help, how you can help and support me . . . . I really need help and support at the moment, but don’t forget, I have experienced a lifetime of what the Church seems to believe to be an expression of love.  People telling me I was demon-possessed at age 13, without parental involvement, for one, because I stared too much.  This, and even things before it, have coloured my whole experience of my relationship with God and others.
 

I urinated on the Church steps.  You have been brandishing that one for ages, even though I tried to apologise for it.  That was 20 years ago, after my first admission to a psychiatric ward where I experienced lots of abuse and neglect and cruelty and was occasioned by the cruelty and rejection and attempts at control and manipulation I was experiencing in Church.  I was incredibly distressed and afraid, and completely disorientated.  You all like to flash this urinating thing around, but does it occur to you that the reason I did it in the first place was because my state of mind had been affected by all this?  It was awful, it was bloody, bloody awful.  I might have been immature in the way I was handling concepts that were new to me, about boundaries and things, and my own right to personal boundaries that even leaders had no right to transgress, but that did not call for me to be treated as I was and abandoned and categorised as mentally ill.  I was never even specifically confronted with this issue, everything was done by psychological suggestion.  Maybe somehow they thought I was supposed to fold in response to that and ‘confess all’, but I thought the accusation was supposed to come from them.  Impasse.

 
Why are you doing what you are doing towards me at the moment on the radio?  Why does no one make a proper approach?  Is it a security issue?  Is it for my protection and the protection of other innocent and law-abiding people?  It certainly affects my feeling, it often makes me feel afraid and guilty for not co-operating with this blatant but cloak-and-dagger approach.  It makes me feel like a bad citizen and a bad Christian.  In all, a bad person.  This is not a faith or religious issue, it is a legal issue, as much as anything else.
 
Sometimes I think the whole media circus over this is ridiculous.  I was thinking about it this morning and the verse, ‘the Lord will have them in derision’ came to mind.  You might not like the fact that I thought this in relation to you and you might think it inappropriate,  I’m not going to comment.  I do, however, think the present expression of Christianity to which I am exposing myself is acting illegally, it is just a radio station, and Christianity does not stand or fall with it.  I am sorry you are too afraid to take proper responsibility.
 

This is my initial response to your – overtures?  Please reply, or pass it on to someone you think should.

 
Susan Barnett

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.

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.

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.

Old ‘Wives Tales

I spoke today to someone who turned out to have been a midwife before her present business.  I told her what had been happening to me in hospital, the forced treatments with PRN medication and the restraints, and I find this hard to believe since the practice is so widespread, but she told me that what happened to me is illegal, but that it happens all the time.  I don’t know if it is equally true for people on a Section 3 or not.  I know where this lady is, she will be there for the long term.

While we were talking I said to her that I had thought earlier, but had forgotten to put it in my post, that the question ‘can I help this person without putting them on drugs’ does not seem to be one of the questions on a psychiatrist’s check list.  I told her I was homeless and she asked me if I was in a hostel, I told her no, I had had problems at home but they had said the problems were just in my mind and had put me in hospital, and she seemed outraged.  I told her I thought I went too quickly and cynically to the political view of things, but she said she thought it was right, and when I said that they always said there is so much call for beds that they don’t keep people in unless they are really ill, she was skeptical about that as well.  In fact thinking about it, of course she should be.  I heard someone say that the psychiatrists are the front men for the drugs companies.  Of course this is right.  Jesus, help us.

She also said that the fact they have acronyms for things doesn’t make them legal.  But if all this really is illegal, how come they are getting away with it?  I can’t understand this.  She was adamant that it is political and not a health thing, and I said that I believed that as well, but that it was different hearing it from a professional.  Of course, though, many people in other branches of medicine have no time for psychiatry, but she said the practices are actually illegal, and this is a different professional perspective for me.  I hope she is right, because then there might be some hope of dealing with this.

While I am here I might as well say that no formal support or counselling is in place to help me deal with what happened yesterday with Kerry and the kicking.  They’ve basically said talk to us if you want to, but they know how I and some others feel about talking to them about anything and it seems to me there should be something solid and more formal with appointments in place.  I have had no support offered with this at all except informally, apart from the fact that a young student took the details of what had happened and said it was to my credit that I had handled it calmly and had come back to the staff.  But it was completely by chance that the woman who agreed to be a witness for me had been passing at all.  I don’t know what I would have done otherwise or how it would have been handled.  One of the other patients told me when I got back on the ward last night to be careful because she thought she was going to try and provoke me again.  No one has followed me up and asked how I am after it.  I think I am more alone in this than I should be.  I would have thought that in a situation like this other disciplines should have been involved as a matter of course.

Update 26.06.13

 

I had the meeting with the SOAD on Monday.  I had no advocate but one of the students came in with me.  I’m waiting to hear the decision from the meeting.  I have been told that the SOAD wants to see the psychologist’s report.

Today at lunchtime I noticed that the domestic was doing what they often do.  She was stood there behind the person serving me with her fists on her hips, dead upright, staring at my face as though she were part of the assessment team.  This makes me feel shame and embarrassment apart from anything else, and I think that is something they like to use.  At least they allow it.  There was no lunch for me, but in the end I ended up with some because one lady had two vegan burgers because someone else had given her theirs, but she didn’t like it and said she didn’t feel well, so she gave me one.  I let it be seen that I was taking in the attitude and body language of the domestic and that I didn’t like it.  I wasn’t acting angrily, but I didn’t hide my observation.  I spoke up for myself assertively, reasonably and pleasantly about not having any lunch when they said I could buy some, asking if I would be reimbursed because I had had to buy.  The nurse went to the office and came back saying I could get a meal from the Co-op but be sure to keep the receipt, but I’d already sorted it out with my fellow patient by then.  At the end I think I heard the domestic say I was proud.  Or someone said it to her and she said, ‘yes, she really, really is’.  But it might not have been about me.  It was about someone, though, and it sounded horrible.  I think it was about lunch.  On a different day it might not have turned out so satisfactory for me and I might have had to make do with potato croquettes and peas and salad.  I heard the same person say a week or so ago that she and all the other domestics were agreed that they were just going to ignore a certain woman who had just arrived.  I heard one of them the other day talking to a woman down my corridor saying ‘come on’ to her as if she was a dog.  When she got what she wanted she said ‘good girl’.

There is a female nurse who talks with an Antipodean twang on the ward.  Today one of the patients was sitting with her back against the door in and out and someone was waiting to get in.  Two young nurses were standing there wondering how to get around the situation.  I went into the small galley patients’ kitchen to make a drink and this nurse came up, looked in the kitchen and said the other patient’s name and said that she wanted to get out to go to the toilet.  She seemed to be speaking pleasantly enough but I looked out and saw her push her aside with her foot.  When she came away she said ‘I don’t care’.  I thought that was outrageous but I didn’t say anything at the time.  I decided to save myself the confrontation.

Some nurses get really defensive around me when I am presenting relaxed and normally.  They even dislike it.  My psychologist said I should build bridges with the staff.  That is not something I am naturally averse to with some people.  I tried last night, and it wasn’t hard or distasteful to me.  But this morning I tried to find out which nurse had changed my bed for me while I had been out, and it was one of the nurses involved in the patient and door situation.  I just asked them which nice person had changed my bed for me, and when she answered she looked hard and annoyed, and I felt and thought afterwards it is their defense against seeing us as anything other than sick because that is how they are going to have to treat us.  They are not open to normality, so when it comes to not missing the moment, many moments either are not there or are missed as the patient and her response is examined under a microscope.  As someone who has no visitors and for whom the hospital is her only home, I find that devastating.  If the person I was trying to affirm last night had been any relationship outside of hospital we might have hugged each other as soon as we saw each other, because we had had a good conversation and encounter about a week previously, and he was obviously upset last night, I suppose from the night before when I got angry after another nurse started pushing me around.  I went to my room and didn’t come out that night, and lay in bed feeling hurt, angry, confused and embarrassed.  Another patient had started shouting for help as she was forced to the floor and I went to see what was going on.  As soon as I saw this nurse I backed off because of who it was and the fact that we have begun to build a relationship.  but eventually in my room I felt hungry and wanted toast but I felt guilty because I thought it would show a lack of real concern for the patient who had been held down.  And I was hurt and upset because I was being left alone with my confusion and embarrassment.  When I saw him last night I could tell he was upset and I wanted to hug him.  I was also upset.  He was doing medication and I passed him saying hello and went to my room.  I wanted to come out immediately and go to him and my instinct was to hug but I thought that couldn’t be acceptable so I stayed in my room feeling guilty for not acting and that the moment of openness was passing.  It is hard not daring to be natural because of their defenses, either assumed or perceived.  This nurse and I parted on good terms last night, with a smile.  Even though when I got to my room I felt so much of my relational experience with everyone last night had been inappropriate.  As soon as I got to my room I exhaled and thought I had been completely inappropriate to say to him, ‘thank you, I enjoyed tonight, it was fun’, but I meant well and he smiled.  Usually I have gone to bed without saying anything to the nurses.  But recently I have been wanting to make him feel good about me.  I’ve felt I’ve needed to make amends to him personally for a particular conflict situation that arose between us involving other people.  I also know I’ve not quite succeeded when I’ve tried and that distresses me, because I want to.  If he reads this we might become very self-conscious and awkward, I suppose.  I don’t want that.  I’ve just recently realised he is my key nurse as well.  He said he told me at the beginning but I don’t remember, which surprises me.

I’m very tired, very confused and I feel guilty for writing, at least a bit.  I’m going to stop now because although there is more I want to say I’m tired and emotional and I’m in a library and it is coming up to closing time.  At the moment I’m very glad I have my blog.

I am very, very angry.  I’ve had a bad and tired day today and that’s not been all my fault.  I’m hurt and very upset.  I got upset with one of the young nurses today because she was doing the usual thing of playing vocal tag, so it seemed, and I said it was harassment.  Not to her, but to someone else in her hearing.  She or others have been yelling and shouting in the corridors like warrior princesses almost all afternoon.  It happens all the time.  I feel as if they are taking advantage of us.  It’s like a battle cry.  I find it intimidating and disorientating.  I called them predatory child-women yesterday.  It really is, to me, like listening to children opening their throats and crying momma.  But at the same time they are so aggressively in my face.  It is wild, it is like hearing wild animals.  I realised today that it is so disorientating that I am beginning to accept and ignore the cries of real distress from patients.  It is becoming background and commonplace to me, and that bothers me.  That’s not an acceptable state of affairs for me.  Usually no one else answers those cries.  Usually the staff leave people vocalising distress.

 

In Brief

It’s a while since I have been able to update my blog.  We are not allowed computers on the ward.  It was in brief when I started. 

I absconded from Macmillan Close and was 12 days in London.  The last 4 of those were spent falling asleep upright anywhere and everywhere because I couldn’t afford a bed.  When the police eventually picked me up after many close opportunities I was taken to a hospital in London where I was put behind the nursing station and alternately I was told 4 times I could or couldn’t have my door closed.  The nurses were badly behaved all the time I was there, when in the evening I finally got my meal and tried to close the door for privacy a nurse became aggressive and said she would call security.  I was brought back to Nottingham between midnight and 2 am in something which said ambulance outside but was like a police van inside.

When I got to Rowan 2 I was met by two staff, one male and the other female.  I made it clear that night that I didn’t want to get too close to the staff as I was there against my wishes and believed I had a right to protest.

The next day I was lying in bed relaxed, I wasn’t bothered by anything that normally had bothered me, like door slamming and shouting.  Although it was happening it was separate from me and identified it easily as out there and hardly noticed it.  However, during the course of the day 4 groups of nurses woke me to confront me about getting up, and after this happened I realised I was again feeling oppressed by the other noises.  I was afraid of their unreasonableness, and angry.  One of them said it wasn’t fair to the other patients, I said something about care being patient specific and needing sleep.  After 4 confrontations all feelings of safety were undone and any benefit from any sleep I had managed was destroyed.

I haven’t got long to write this so I’m going to try and put in everything I feel relevant but it won’t be particularly ordered.

Today I have an appointment with a Second Opinion Approved Doctor.  The first time he came I was only given 1 ½ hours’ notice and I managed to get it rearranged so I could arrange to have an advocate present.  However, although I am sure that when I phoned the advocacy service last week and left a message on their machine I gave them all the details they needed, when I picked their response up on Friday they wanted me to phone them again with the time.  I’m usually good about giving all necessary details, and even on Friday when I spoke to someone directly she asked me what time it was going to be when I knew I had already told her.  They have a 48 hour call back policy so at the moment I don’t know if I will have an advocate or not.  I am worried about having to go ahead without an advocate because last time he kept interrupting me, said he wanted to ask me 2 questions then after that I could decide whether I wanted another meeting or not, and he asked me if I thought I had an illness and if I thought I needed medication.  I said no to both and he said we wouldn’t need another meeting.  I insisted pointing out he had said it was up to me and that the purpose of the meeting was to do a proper assessment, not just get my opinion of illness and medication.  I was shocked and disturbed by his rudeness and ground shifting and believed it to be deliberate, knowing that even I in his place would not behave as he had.  I shook his hand at the end and he was holding a pencil.  He didn’t even put it in the other hand.

The first meeting I had with my psychiatrist seemed quite friendly and reasonable until I mentioned that my English degree had involved a critical method path of psychoanalysis and reader response.  She looked shocked and nervous, not to say afraid.  In meetings after that she got heavier.  She told me that if I named people in my blog they could or would sue me.  I said good, it’s about time it was made legal not medical.  I’ve thought about it since and thought that must have been deliberate intimidation, as they already have enough to sue me with from before and have threatened it before but have not taken that route.  She often wears a mocking and provocative expression on her face when I am talking to her.  She has told me that because I believe things are happening I need medication, and has said that if I am heard shouting or talking to myself in my room or laughing I will be medicated.  She tried to reinstate a depot the other week.  On the day of the following review my advocate told me that that wouldn’t happen as the paperwork was not up to date and it would be illegal without seeing a SOAD.  I can’t believe she didn’t know that at the time she told me it would be reinstated.  2 or 3 weeks ago she terminated the review because I tried to tell her that what they wanted to do to me filled me with fear and revulsion, and she said she wasn’t prepared to have me speak like that.  She said she wanted to keep it rational.  I have said that when people introduce physical threat as something they believe they have a right to they lose the right to expect reason from the person they are dealing with and to expect to be seen as reasonable themselves.  Recently she has been harassing me, asking me to take just a little medication knowing how I feel about it and that we are waiting for a SOAD.  I have told them that I believe in natural healing, sleep and rest and self-management.  I’ve also said that I am afraid of what they want to do and asked how fear is good for someone’s mental health.  I pointed out that last time I was in London the panel said that in view of my feelings about medication and the fact I had held them for a long time they were not going to force me and were going to end my section, and have said that although Nottingham is a different authority this decision should be taken into account and respected.  This has been ignored.  I am worried that I have heard people here tell me they have been in hospital over a year and up to 3 or 4.  I’ve been in hospital here now since 1st May last year.  I’ve never been in hospital this long before.

I’ve seen a psychologist twice and he has given me the impression he is on my side in things I have said to him, and my key nurse told me as much last week.

I’m on an all women’s ward but we have male staff.  Although I tend to enjoy relating more to the men at the moment I still can’t see why there are male staff on a women’s ward.

One man keeps positioning himself near me and saying ‘My God’.  I have told him I find it offensive but he still does it.

One man, when I had my bedroom door open with a nurse inside one morning, looked straight into my eyes as I was lying in bed with piercing disapproval.  Recently the same man came out of the office and started playfully teasing a patient who interrupts me every time she engages me in conversation and had just done so.  It feels as if they deliberately affirm anyone who gives me a problem.

There is one female nurse who told me that she wished she had a mute button so she could switch me off.  I told her that was verbal abuse and she said she didn’t care.  I said she might not care but I did and thought she should because she had no right to be talking to patients that way.  When I told my psychologist this he said ‘good for you’.  The same woman the next night heard another patient shouting and swearing at me, calling me foul mouthed and evil and saying I should wear a sign round my neck saying I was evil.  She came out of the office and sat in a chair and watched it for about 5 minutes without saying anything.  When the other patient got up and walked away (I hadn’t sworn during the whole conversation), this nurse turned and said to me, ‘See, Sue, nobody likes you’.  I told her she had no right to say that and that it wasn’t true anyway.  She asked me why I had involved her in the conversation in the first place and I said I hadn’t, she had come and sat down, and she told me to F off.  I reported this in a review meeting, it was handed to the ward manager for investigation and I have been told that this nurse denied it happened and the ward manager said she didn’t feel that any of her staff would behave that way.  I had a concert booked one night and I was at breakfast and this nurse was on again.  One of the patients started shouting at me and I said I was tired of her shouting at me and of the nurses letting her.  One of the other nurses on with this nurse, instead of trying to diffuse the situation, made it worse, saying I was rude to nurses.  I was shouting because I was so upset and the nurse who had called me rude threatened me with an injection.  I said it wasn’t going to happen and the nurse who had sworn at me before said to me that I was going to get an injection and that when I did she would be there.  I said she wouldn’t and she said do you want to bet.  When she saw my fear when it was first mentioned she was pleased and laughed, then the first nurse told me I couldn’t go to my concert or go out at all that day and that I was restricted.  This woman has thrown a tantrum several times when she has not wanted a conversation with me, though she started it, and has threatened me twice with an injection when I’ve got upset about it.  Medication has only ever been raised as a foreseeable imposition or threat, never as an offer.  I didn’t go to the concert.  That night the man who keeps saying ‘my God’ around me stood at the end of my corridor singing ‘soldier, solider, won’t you marry me’, and ‘Red red robin’ sounding really upset.  It was two nights after I had been upset because I had been told that a depot was going to be reinstated.  I was saying they were psychological terrorists and rapists.  They just walked around me ignoring me, not offering help or support.  He said ‘bloody hell’ to another nurse and I told him to stop swearing, because they came down on us like a ton of bricks of we swore, and he repeated it.  I was touched by the singing and thought he was going to be on that night, but he wasn’t and I was upset and disappointed.  He was finishing his shift, not starting.  My advocate told me the afternoon staff would have let me go to the concert, but they never tried to communicate that to me.  I was offended by what had happened in the morning and I didn’t want to approach it with them.  I felt it was my own fault that I had missed it for not approaching them.  But I have often felt that they are making me ask for things rather than offering in an attempt to break me, because I have said that I am not playing patient to their doctor nurse and I have a right of protest.  I have missed quite a few meals through a combination of fear of harassment and protest, and in my tribunal the other week one of the members of the panel asked the staff about it in such a way that gave me the impression that they were so cynical about me that they just put missing meals down to a ‘bargaining chip’, that was the terms used.

The day after the missed concert I got to the breakfast hatch 5 minutes before it was supposed to close and it was already closed.  The nurse who swore at me was on and I asked if I could have some breakfast and she gave me a one word answer – ‘no’.  I asked her if she had brought her whip and stilettoes that morning and as I walked away she asked me if I had enjoyed the concert.  As I was trying to answer he she shut the door in my face and I pushed on it to finish my answer to her question, and she suddenly let the door go and I ended up on my back in the kitchen, so I finished my answer from there.  Another nurse threatened to have me removed if I wouldn’t get up but backed off when I said it was illegal if I wasn’t a danger to myself or anyone else.  Eventually she asked me if I wanted breakfast and I told her I had been told I couldn’t have any.  She told me the nurse had said I couldn’t have anything hot, I told her the interchange that had taken place and she said ‘that is what you are hearing’.  I said ‘that is what I am hearing because that is what was said’.  She was trying to put it down to symptoms of mental illness.  I have had this with two other nurses on two different occasions, they refuse to have a normal conversation without putting something they don’t understand down to delusional beliefs.  That’s why I don’t like talking to them.  I talk to other patients, but when I do the nurses interfere with my conversations, start mimicking me, talking loudly over me at intimate points in the conversation, matching my tone of voice to say something in the office.  They have denied that any of this happens, but other patients say it happens as well, and we are all angry.  When my psychiatrist told me I would be medicated if I was heard shouting and slamming doors I said to her that a lot of people feel and act the way I do, and rather than face the fact that the staff might be doing something wrong and need to change, they threaten us with medication on our own in the review, in isolation.  That night I went to bed determined not to let anything come out of my mouth.  I fell asleep and had a nightmare that someone was hammering continuously on my door and I was shouting ‘please stop shouting at me’.  Somewhere between asleep and awake I wasn’t sure if I was actually shouting, and waking up I took myself in hand so that I wouldn’t verbally express the distress of my nightmare.  I felt like a child in an abusive situation who lies quietly in bed as they hear an abuser coming in the hope that if they are really quiet this time it won’t happen, and in fact I have been in that position many times on the ward, but it always does happen, because it is deliberate, but when I say it is happening I am told my belief is a symptom of mental illness.  It’s like a gagging mechanism.  This morning before 6am a man who had been on duty overnight came into the corridor talking loudly and making a sound like throwing up.  That is the kind of wake up we get every morning.  Staff shout, we can’t.  Staff shout at us, and threaten us if we get upset.  If I talk confidently about something I have seen as positive for me that is not ‘treatment’ related, staff nearby laugh in derision.  When they knock on my door they hammer.  They mimic, they walk past ignoring, sometimes with disdain on their faces.  I believe this is an expression of civil war.  Because I made my position clear I feel they have withdrawn service and support and are often deliberately opposing me.  The first time I heard bedding being offered to people I wasn’t offered any.  I had been there about a week.

When I first got there there was a lot of shouting and overt bullying.  I stood up for someone a couple of times.  The shouting has largely turned to boy scout behaviour and uproarious laughter.  A male nurse shouted at a patient outside the office once, went back in and closed the door and everyone in the office laughed loudly.  I thought it was inappropriate.  I have said to my psychiatrist that I don’t want medication and that some people used it for bullying and sadistic pleasure and that it turns into a grotesque theatre of subjugation.  Two nurses have said to me when shouting at me and having threatened me that they will be pleased when I am on medication (taking it for granted it is going to go that way with the SOAD) and that they will be there when I get the injection.  They will also use it verbally and cruelly at other times.  When they first said they wanted to restart the depot I told them I wanted it once a month not once a fortnight, because I know it is available and that I was limiting their access to me.  I have told them that if they force medication on me I won’t co-operate with them over anything else and that it will be an assault.

I was out on leave one evening and a couple of times I was so touched by people’s humanity and vulnerability that I wanted to break down and tell them what was happening.  I didn’t.  But on the way back I thought that I was being roughed up in the name of medicine, and that wanting to break down and tell complete strangers my story was evidence of that.  When I got back on the ward I was upset and told some of the patients what I was thinking.  I got more and more upset until I went to my room and gradually regained control of myself and went quiet.  After I had been quiet for ages I suddenly thought, ‘I’ve got shoe laces in here, and electrical cables.  I could have tried to harm myself, and no one cares to check if I am OK.  This is an acute ward, and they aren’t even checking that I am OK after being upset for ages then going quiet’.  I started shouting that and the male nurse on duty eventually walked past my door and yawned loudly and offensively.  At least, anyone else might have seen it that way, but when I told one of the nurses they said that might be just the way he is and he might not have been meaning to be offensive.  I’ve contacted the police several times since I have been here, including about this incident.  I was given a crime number for this incident.  I’ve heard nothing back.  I have said before and know it is true, that these people can get away with anything and are completely unaccountable because all they have to say is that I am a paranoid schizophrenic and that my perceptions are part of my illness.  I said to a patient the other day when we were talking about having to send our washing away and wait 2 days for its return and I’d been told sometimes things didn’t come back, that I hadn’t expected to be here so long anyway, and a nurse laughed as if it was a funny joke.  The man who says ‘my God’ around me laughed or said something contemptuously when another female patient said she had had enough and was going home.

The staff say things like ‘vain’ and ‘rude’, just throwing the words around, apparently.  They used to say ‘baby’, which seemed to be a stop word, or acted that way anyway.  I confronted it a couple of times and for now it has stopped, more or less.  I hear them talking about other patients by name, gossiping at and after meal times.  I am sure I get the same treatment, and one or two times domestics have had a hard time hiding their outrage at me when I’ve just been relaxed and normal.  On one of these occasions it was followed by an apparently untargeted ‘we all know’, after using the word ‘wee’ which has happened a few times recently.  Patients have started mimicking each other, and one commented that the staff mimicked me a lot, but if I say so it is my mental illness making me think that.  I’ve told my psychologist this and from what he said and my key nurse said, he is on my side.  The person using the word ‘vain’ was a man, and so was the one who angrily and derisively mocked my accent from the office, which I have been told never happened and that the fact I think it did is just more evidence that  need medication.  They look through my slats without speaking and I have said I feel like a lizard at a zoo.  None of this can be good for my mental health.  There are three patients they let shout at me or tear into me in other ways.  They don’t try to stop it or express any concern for me.  I used to like talking to the patients but I have withdrawn a lot now because of staff harassment.

I realised last week that I have been having strong urges to self-harm as a result of all this.  I won’t do anything about them but the urges have been there.  I’ve wanted to cut my hair, even thought about shaving my head.  I’ve wanted to run forks down deep into the flesh on my cheeks.  I’ve thought it would be a good thing if someone would whip me.  The other day I sat upset and rigid in a wooden-armed armchair in the multi-faith room.  I was upset because of something that had been said by a volunteer I had seen as a friend.  I realised I was wanting to self-harm and dissolved the emotion by saying the words quietly out loud as a realisation.  I thought about the electric chair.  I asked myself what would be the worst thing that could happen and I thought I might wet myself and defaecate and fry, but that would be all there was to fear, and it would all be over.  When things first started years ago I used to think a lot that I wanted to go to America and be executed judicially by lethal injection because everything was my fault and if I died everyone else would be free of the problems association with me seemed to bring on them.  Now I am correctly identifying urges of self-harm as a result of what people are doing to me and not my fault.  They don’t need medication, they need a change of situation.  Enforced medication is one of the things that adds to my feelings of hopelessness.

I’ve seen a lot of lookalikes from my present situation on the tv this weekend, and I noticed one woman noticing a lookalike of herself.  It’s the multiplicity and density that makes it unlikely to be coincidence.  I am sure the staff are aware of it and I think they are blaming me.  I have said it isn’t my responsibility to address it as I have been talking about it for years and having it put down to mental illness, and that it is their responsibility to approach me and say they think they might have made a mistake.  I feel I am being harsh and unreasonable, but if they won’t raise it with me and it has been rejected for 17 years . . . I hve said that people who resort to physical assault in the name of medicine have no right to tears around the people they treat that way, but I have started feeling responsible for their emotions and obligated to them.  I think that has been manipulated and what they are expressing at the moment is cruel and puerile cowardice.  I think the same of myself though.  I keep thinking it isn’t about feelings, it is about facts.  Being rude, vain, irritable etc are not evidence of mental illness and a need for medication.  I have been told I am paranoid schizophrenic because I believe that things related to me and my situations appear on the media and that I am being stalked and experiencing vigilantism bordering on and occasionally involving violence.  I see my time in hospital as one of these latter situations.  It is psychologically violent, physical assault.  I have said and meant that it is Nazism and scientific totalitarianism and that it is barbaric and brutal.  I have said I can’t trust people who will operate this way because it is an easy out and I think there is something wrong with them as humans that they cannot or will not see themselves as cruel and unreasonable, especially when someone says that other things help them.  I have said that I don’t want doctors taking serious risks with my physical health without my consent, risks that have been known to put people in wheelchairs as a result of ‘rare’ side effects.  If there is a risk like that, it isn’t right to say it is minimal to a person you are forcing medication on and denying them a right of refusal, while refusing to acknowledge that that person might be one of the people so affected.

I’m also afraid that even if they acknowledge they have been mistaken about this longstanding ‘reason’ for calling me mentally ill, they will shift their ground and insist on calling me mentally ill for other reasons which have arisen as a result of the constant bullying, untruthfulness, misrepresentations, etc, over the years.  I was up one night at 4 am and heard one of the male nurses up the corridor, a constant stream of ‘bastard’.  I have said they are employed to do a job and I have been there on my own time for over a year, but they come down hard on me and others if we swear, although swearing is a part of life.  Enough for now.  Oh yes . . .  My psychiatrist says the expressions on people’s faces don’t mean anything, then sits there with a provocative look on her own face.  A look passed between her and the clerk which knocked me out for the whole tribunal hearing, because I didn’t dare say anything.  I’ve started confronting this, talking about drama training and conveying thought process and feelings through facial expression.  I’ve also said most people disagree with her, and sometimes I have put it stronger than that.  Everything I say is put down to mental illness, everything said about me is used as fuel fir their invalidating, undermining and subjugating theories and decisions.  I have started saying that It is untruthfulness and dishonesty.  I said when first told I would be sued if I named people that it is a humanitarian obligation to name and shame these people, but I haven’t.  Sometimes I have felt guilty that I have protected myself by not writing at the expense of others who need me to speak.  Today I feel as if I am letting myself down and being dishonourable to the staff by writing.  And I’m scared because I’m not going to have an advocate this afternoon.  I have felt it is treated as a sign of weakness and validation of the staff if I don’t write, and also that it is a validation of their position and something they can blame and hate me for if I do write.  I’ve been hoping that if I don’t write they won’t medicate, but I feel they take advantage of my silence and will medicate anyway.  I feel that this strong feeling of certainty and relief that they won’t medicate if I don’t write is a true feeling from God to which I am being disobedient and that by writing I am not trusting God.

Possible Side Effects of Abilify (Aripiprazole)

This is my medication and the leaflet in the box lists these possible side effects:

Common side effects (affects 1-10 users in 100) uncontrollable twitching or jerking movements, headache, tiredness, nausea, vomiting, an uncomfortable feeling in the stomach, constipation, increased production of saliva, light-headedness, trouble sleeping, restlessness, feeling anxious, sleepiness, shaking and blurred vision.

Uncommon side effects ( affects 1-10 users in 1,000) some people may feel dizzy, especially when getting up from a lying or sitting position, or may experience a fast heart rate.

The following side effects have been reported since the marketing of ABILIFY (sic) but the frequency for them to occur is not known:

Changes in the levels of some blood cells;

unusual heart beat, sudden unexplained death, heart attack;

allergic reaction (e.g. swelling in the mouth, tongue, face and throat, itching, rash);

high blood sugar, onset or worsening of diabetes, ketoacidosis (ketones in the blood and urine) or coma, low sodium level in the blood;

weight gain, weight loss, anorexia;

nervousness, agitation, feeling anxious;

thoughts of suicide, suicide attempt and suicide;

speech disorder, seizure, combination of fever, muscle stiffness, faster breathing, sweating, reduced consciousness and sudden changes in blood pressure and heart rate;

fainting, high blood pressure, blood clots in the veins especially in the legs (symptoms include swelling, pain and redness in the leg), which may travel through blood vessels to the lungs causing chest pain and difficulty in breathing (if you notice any of these symptoms, seek medical advice immediately);

spasm of the muscles around the voice box, accidental inhalation of food with risk of pneumonia, difficulty in swallowing;

inflammation of the pancreas, inflammation of the liver, yellowing of the skin and white part of eyes, reports of abnormal liver test values, abdominal and stomach discomfort, diarrhoea;

skin rash and sensitivity to light, unusual hair loss or thinning, excessive sweating; stiffness or cramps, muscle pain, weakness;

involuntary loss of urine, difficulty in passing urine;

prolonged and/or painful erection;

difficulty controlling core body temperature or overheating, chest pain, and swelling of hands, ankles or feet.

Adolescents 15 years and older experienced side effects that were similar in frequency and type to those in adults except that sleepiness and uncontrollable twitching or jerking movements were very common (greater than 1 in 10 patients) and dry mouth, increased appetite, and feeling dizzy, especially when getting up from a lying or sitting position, were common.

In elderly patients with dementia, more fatal cases have been reported while taking aripiprazole.  in addition, cases of  stroke or “mini” stroke have been reported.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~//~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If the symptoms listed are really seen as possible side effects I don’t like the fact that such chances are being taken with my physical health and even my life, no matter how slight the possibilities.  Twitching and jerking are symptoms of tardive dyskinesia, which in the case of Jenelle (see the last link on my Essential Links page) has put her in a wheelchair and is thought by doctors to be irreversible.

It is almost as if listing them in this way makes it OK to take the chances.  But as someone on this drug (and others act like it) I think it is dishonest and the worst kind of bullying to be told that this will improve my quality of life while these side effects, some of them resulting in death or incapacity, are possible.  Most of the time they can’t be bothered with us and they are not interested in how we feel or what we have to say.  That is the truth.  Psychologically and relationally they, among others, have abandoned us even while they have a duty of care.  They force these drugs on us while ignoring our requests and assertions that other things are the problem and there are better and different and less harmful and more effective answers and therapies.

Pro Choice

In All In the Mind, BBC Radio 4 on Wednesday, they were talking about a new venture in Manchester where patients who would traditionally be treated with anti-psychotics, or anti-psychotics and talking therapies, are being treated with CBT (Cognitive Behavioural Therapy) alone.  The programme has several testimonials that this is working for those people.  It acknowledges that it doesn’t work for everyone, but that neither do drugs work for everyone, and stresses that it is about choice, which it says the NICE guidelines say should  be given to everyone diagnosed with schizophrenia.  The programme acknowledges that while the NICE guidelines say this, many people diagnosed with schizophrenia are not given this choice.

There is a bit near the beginning about the USA presidential elections. It lasts a short while and the above follows it.

I didn’t know about the NICE guidelines.  Maybe the team here interprets them as meaning you should be given a choice of medication.  My situation has not felt right to me for a long time.  The only choice I have been given, which is no choice at all, is oral or injection.  I am being forced to take drugs.  As I have said before, literature on our boards says that this trust does not tolerate bullying, fear and other such things.  I quoted this to the doctors and they didn’t care.  One of them talked about me being abusive when my speech became heated, totally blind, so it seemed, to what they were doing to me.

The decision makers at Highbury Hospital think they don’t have to be nice, or that niceness is all right for moving on, once the abusive decision has been made and is being enforced.  They should not be moving on like that regardless and without me.  If I am living in unreality, it is their unreality that I am being required to live in.  That one unacceptable little thing which I am visited with twice a day.  These people are not trustworthy.

Today’s Dinner and Matters of the Heart

I was thinking today about a couple of people we have on the ward.  One lady cannot speak intelligibly after an accident and/or damage/operation on her brain.  Another is said to be deaf.   For both of them I think this is the wrong place for them to be.  It is frustrating for them and all of us.  The lady who can’t speak has learned to speak a few words, strengthening my belief that rehabilitation of her speech is possible.  I am not aware that she is getting any support or therapy towards that end.  If my awareness is accurate it is obvious that, having not been a party to any decision on things at that level if any has been taken, I don’t know why.

The lady who can’t speak started ranting at me when she reached over me and put her sleeve in my dinner at the hatch. For all I know she might have been saying ‘sorry’, but all I knew was that she was shouting and wouldn’t stop, right next to me, with staff standing by and not intervening.  I told her to stop talking at me like that because she knew I couldn’t understand her.  I thought I heard one of the domestic staff say ‘bitch’, and I said ‘I’m not a bitch, I’m sick of abuse’, and staff standing by and doing nothing.  What are they doing, standing by and watching it unfold before deciding whether or not to stop it?  Luke said he didn’t think anyone would be calling me bitch, and he should know, in that situation, he was standing right next to the domestic that I thought had said it.  I’ve heard other things like that as well, so I’m not discounting my own understanding – angry at me and despising me for standing up for myself when they don’t stop the woman ranting at me.  Why?  I came away feeling and believing that Luke was just playing the role of the nice guy, even if he didn’t do anything to help.  They started giggling and laughing behind me, among themselves.  They rebuild themselves and help themselves relax while ignoring us.

I asked another patient if she watched ‘Doctors’ at 1.30pm weekdays on BBC1.  I told her that yesterday there were definitely 2 of the ‘staff’ characters recognisable from here and that they had done exactly the same thing with staff in London, and that they were blaming me when I had already told them from the beginning that this was happening.  For trying to act responsibly I have been told that it is evidence of ‘(my) mental illness’ and medicated into exhaustion, while having other people pull shocked disapproving faces at me and calling me bitch – or using the word against someone else and me mistaking it for being aimed at me.  Both are equally unacceptable.

Someone else was saying, before that, that she had been sent the same sort of food for weeks running, and I sympathised with her, saying they shouldn’t employ someone in a place like this who doesn’t know how to cater properly for different diets, because this is not a hotel.

The girl I said was being bullied in one of my last posts has become dependent on everyone rather than being the strong, forthright person she seemed to be when she first came in.  We all pipe sweet pipings in the end.

I moved rooms a few weeks ago.  My old one had a fan or something really loud right outside, and the cigarette break.  I’ve moved to the quiet side.  There is a man in one of the buildings who kept crying out ‘oh’, loudly and pathetically.  People kept trying to stop him.  One day there were two of them, one of them ended up crying out ‘help us’. I’ve had that on my mind ever since but for some reason I’ve only just got round to writing about it.  A woman in the ward told him to ‘shut up’, women from here were imitating him and ended up shouting ‘we love you’.  I shouted to him to shut up at least once.  When I was upset a man shouted at me to shut up.  This place is awful.

There is a lady on the ward who has been getting quite upset.  Talking about staff getting to go home and buy things on dirty money, talking about slurring her character.  Last night the staff listened to her in silence, this morning one of them was talking back at her.  She was saying they were slurring her character and she said she was going to complain and that she had before and would do so again,  Jess kept saying ‘good’ and another patient standing with the nurse was saying to her ‘do you have one’ (character), and made another comment as well, and Jess sided with her saying ‘pinch of salt’ to her about what this other lady was saying.

I’ve been there.  It hurts, it’s frightening and it shouldn’t happen.  The lady was saying that she wanted a transfer because she was being bullied by staff and patients.  It certainly sounded that way this morning.  I’m not saying it because I am perfect, but because I am equally vulnerable in this situation.

This evening I started singing, quietly, ‘the king is in the all together’.  I’ve never realised its full meaning before.  At first it wasn’t intentional.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I was writing an email to a solicitor just now, in the cross over between Robert Elms and Danny Baker, and they were doing a slapstick routine, and appeared to be commenting on or anticipating what I was going to write.  I got confused and upset trying to communicate, and in my email I wrote them a little message, “you are savage, radio”.  Straight afterwards his voice became tearful and he talked about slapstick, which was what he had been doing, with my neighbour situation and with my email.  I’ve had violent harassment from them all afternoon, and while I’ve had the radio on they tap at psychologically significant points, and the stalkers on the radio are making it worse.  Danny Baker, you bloody bastard.  ‘Bloody’ literally.  17.45 pm.  He just said ‘my mind’ to sound like ‘Marmite’.  I get so distressed I want to wet myself, and sometimes I have.  They keep tapping and she keeps piping hallelujah.  They refuse to stop, tapping and hallelujah-ing at MY radio.  That is violent, occult harassment.  They are all as bad.  Listen to the violent tones on these men.  Eddie Nestor has just come on.  Banging a drum?  I don’t NEED a drum banging.  I need the criminal harassment and stalking and mental torture to stop and my hiding, cowardly, dishonest authorities to help me.  The man upstairs keeps going to the toilet and it always feels deliberate and sometimes I feel as if he is pissing into my mouth.  He just said ‘wee’ in a pointed way, on the radio.  This is gross, and I don’t believe it is just my mind.  Fiona with the travel (17.15) has just said ‘first with the rose’ instead of roads.  ‘Rose’ is a euphemism for urine.  I wrote the time wrong, Bulgarian.  Eddie Nestor just made a point of saying ‘nay’ Bulgarian for no, and talked about ‘around the world’.  I can’t appear right in this, even if I am.  I think they are trying to get me back in hospital.  I want to wet myself.  I don’t want to go to the toilet, I want to wet myself.

Chris in Crouch End is a Christian.  He just used her to say to me, ‘stop dressing inappropriately and you won’t be attacked’.  Whatever he meant to convey by it, he did use her for that.  And he just said Dr Paranisi to be heard as paranoid.  Talking about infertility.

I want to wet myself because I am scared and I can’t take this, and I know for certain that no one is going to acknowledge the truth about this.  I dread having to live with this for the rest of my non-suicide-terminated life.

Look at this.

BBC World News Et Al

I’ve had enough of these guys, they are ludicrous. There is only one way to deal with them and stay sane, and that is to find them funny.  I even came up with a nickname for one of them this morning, which is not something I am into normally.  After his hypnotic gesture.  I found solace in humour (they keep clearing their throats off-screen, what has happened to the cough button?  It exsits.  It is rude not to use it.  It’s gross, especially when they deliberately heighten your sensitivity so you hear every minute sound), and thought of him as ‘Nick the Thing’.

It’s not the stories and their seriousness, I wish I could concentrate on those in peace.  It’s the other stuff they use to play with your head.  Peter Dobbie came on with what sounded like righteous indignation and grief which felt like an accusation in view of what I have just written (ed note: I added the bit about the cough button and nick names after this).  I would like to write more but again, the hard aggressiveness with everything that they put on it for a ride has completely wiped my mind of what I was going to write.

The guys who just went out, it seemed fairly obvious to me that they did a synchronised and agreed look down at their desk as they finished.  it was perfectly times and synchronised, and when I saw that I understood the ‘poised to spring’ body language that immediately led up to it.

I know Japan is important, but it is not my issue.  Maybe it should be, they make it feel as if it should be, but it isn’t.

Crikey, I’m sorry about this, but I swear some of these people deliberately posture themselves as accusers.  I don’t know how to put this delicately, but i am sure peter Dobbie just embodied piss.

Nick Ravenscroft came on and called peter by his name, and said ‘listening to you and Rachel’ in very intimate tones.  They look at us and say each other’s names.  I think that is deliberate psychological and spiritual aggression, but even if it isn’t, they give the impression of being there to relate more to each other than to us, and we are just the observers and eavesdroppers.  I feel a resistance every time I get the perfect word.  I know now that kind of thing is not my imagination.  So does everyone else, no matter how dishonest they are about it.

And for goodness’ sake, what is susan Powell’s gaffe?  She comes on like some high level care worker or doctor breaking bad news, ‘I know, I’m so sorry, I do sympathise, but that is how it is.  It’s OK, we’ll cope’. 

These people are bad, high-control, criminal egos.  Please Lord, no longer in my vicinity.  In Jesus’ Name.  Amen.

Someone speaking to Peter Dobbie just used the word ‘severe’ and Peter Dobbie cleared his throat.  That is it exactly.  That is the exact word for the way they are deliberately presenting themselves, in my opinion.  Thank you God that that got through.

‘Look up there, look over there (but I’m pointing you there contrary to you expectations from what I have set up, because I want to see your reaction or break your concentration).  Watch how often this happens in the whole communication and not just in words.

My first experience of this was in Bulgaria, after I complained to an internet cafe owner who I thought seemed really nice about the fact that two of his female customers had just been openly and unashamedly scathing of me as an English person, saying English people have no taste.  He did that and I was devastated.  I don’t know why he did it, I had never met him before.  He looked at me as if to say, ‘aha, yes, quite’ then completely turned his attention away from me.  He only got that reaction from me in the first place because I myself have a tender conscience and don’t like complaining about other people.  It didn’t even necessarily show that I am a bad person, but he seemed to want to take it that way.  I suppose it might have had something to do with his relationship with the women, but at the time I was just really upset and didn’t know what had hit me.

I’m mentioning this because the UK meida pulls a lot of things like this out of the bag.  It is like psyhological torture and pressure to go home.  But I don’t want to.  It’s interference.  Without it (he can feel me psychically, he keeps banging his stuff), I could have coped a lot better a lot earlier, and so could everyone else.  As it is they have just humiliated me, and feeling so humiliated I have to cope also with the possible loss of my home.

Peter Dobbie, this is gross.  And this deliberate sternness and strictness that you all keep putting out at us – who do you all think you are?  It is a complete insult and completely abusive.  Abuse on abuse.  And you bastards (yes, I’m upset)  . . . and now I can’t remember what I was going to say.  Whatever this is it projects as immovable and impassable.  They are holding me, at least, to ransom, and in so doing are empowereing others to do the same. And it is all on purpose.  I’m not sure what language peter Dobbie is now impersonating, but he just said ‘what are you seeing?’ rather than ‘what can you see?’  I believe this is a deliberate and obvious perception shifter.  The only contexts I can think of for where I might have encountered it are in therapeutic situations or in the House Church.  He’s talking to Rachel as if she is his daughter.  This is a public broadcast.  Every time I go to make a strong statement there is a bang in the studio, I suppose they are banging the desk.

I think these people might be examples of what the Bible is talking about when it talks about those who suppress the truth in unrighteousness.  They use an Irish accent to good effect as well, I’ve heard them talk about it.  I don’t know why.  All that comes to mind is that I had an Irish boyfriend and Colin Dye’s wife is irish, and some of my ministers have known Ian Paisley and I think they thought I was a terrorist threat becasue of something I said and that they talked to him and I never knew.  All of these seem probable.  I know it is effective.  Everyone I’ve mentioned in this paragraph apart from my old boyfriend is involved with the government.  So when I have talked about the government in other posts and pages, I’m not being psychotic with delusions of grandeur.

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Working through the Dark Night of the Soul to emerge as me.

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Writing about my experiences with: depression, anxiety, OCD and Aspergers

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A Philosopher's View of the World...assuming it exists.