Tag Archive: Desperation


Update 27.10.2013 – Hospital and Housing

I’ve been obsessive about my stats recently and it’s been an obsession that has pushed everything else out.  I could have kept my blog up to date but I haven’t, so here is a bit more.

Last Saturday I sat down and filled in an application for housing with a housing charity, and at the moment I am waiting to hear what points I’ve been allocated.  I am hoping very much that things will move quickly.  There were boxes for six separate area codes and I filled them all in, but even that might not be flexible enough.

Life in the residential hospital is not too bad.  The main thing for me at the moment is that the fridge-freezer is easily big enough for a family, but not for four individuals.  It looks to me as if two of us are doing a weekly shop, and there just isn’t sufficient space really.  It is frustrating that we are doubling up on things and I’m sure there is a lot of wastage because things don’t get eaten quickly enough.  I’m not the one with the least space, apparently, and the one who thinks she has the least space keeps putting her stuff on top of mine, and it annoys me.

Also people doing big sharp knocks on the door and asking if I’m all right when I am trying to relax.  It jolts me out of it.

About two or three weeks ago I had a problem with one of the residents who keeps staring at me when I am focusing on something else.  I asked her why she was doing it and she said she wasn’t, I was being paranoid.  Then she told me to shut up and said I was kicking off when I didn’t like that, so now I’m not talking to her, nor she to me.

The nurses I encounter are nice, usually, but I daren’t talk to them about how I feel about my diagnosis and medication, normally, because I fear they won’t understand.  I’m keeping a low profile at the moment about the things I don’t like which I usually see towards other people on occasion.  I don’t want a repetition of Rowan 2 and other places.  When I become aware of it, normally in the shower (and I’ve self-neglected a fair bit recently), I suppress an urge to scream.  I guess screaming isn’t allowed or looked on very favorably, and I have an iron grip on myself to make sure I don’t scream, I daren’t put myself in that situation here.

That’s all for now.  Thanks to my new followers for following.  Welcome aboard.  I hope it won’t get too boring for you.  I’m pretty monomaniacal at times.

Advertisements

Relaxation Tape

I am listening to a tape that started off by saying that any sound would add to my relaxation.  I’m sure she can’t have meant doors slamming deliberately like bombs dropping.  This happens here every day.  I’ve reported it to the nurses and the nurses have talked to the other women involved but there has been no change.  I’m beginning to think about stopping respecting the night.  I can also do slamming doors.  The nurses aren’t here, they are in a building across the road.  They would have to get out of bed and walk over there (Oh no, there is a phone in the hall).  This shared NHS house is hell for me, as I thought it would be.  But one of the nurses told me they have done it to people before, and said it isn’t me or my fault.  So why aren’t they ejected if they are making people this ill and unhappy?  I told one of the nurses today that things are so bad in here I can’t cope and I want to pass out and collapse when I am out.  One of the people involved across the landing from me won’t even acknowledge me when I say hello or ask if she is OK.  Somebody I was talking to the other day (not about this) said it was obvious I was being abused.  It’s a shared house on an open ward and the treatment I am getting from the people I am sharing with is making me feel sick but all the nurses ever do is say they will talk to them.  I’m afraid to go down and cook and it is affecting my appetite.  The door slamming is unnecessary and violent and it shakes the house.  I’m even getting pain in my stomach when I try to eat.

Some people would say this is the result of unforgiveness . . .

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.

Incitement, Provocation and Harassment

There is such a thing, which is still legally recognised, so I believe, as incitement and provocation which might, ordinarily, were I not already tagged schizophrenic and dangerous, be seen as mitigating elements in any way that I were to react to it.

Last night a hostel booking fell through.  I couldn’t afford the key deposit in cash, the hostel didn’t take cards and I couldn’t withdraw money as I had less than £10, which is the minimum withdrawal from a cash point.  I tried to apply for a crisis loan earlier in the day and I was holding for 20 minutes, after which someone picked up the phone and said their systems were down and they couldn’t do anything about it or make alternative arrangements for making payments.

Because I didn’t have the key deposit they asked for photo ID.  I don’t drive, I have lost my passport (again, 2nd time in my life), and I kept insisting that, because I was British, I didn’t need photo ID.  But although the booking had been made and I was able to pay for the room itself, they told me I couldn’t stay without providing photo ID, so I went to the airport.  I won’t say which terminal.

I was harassed by ‘yellowjackets’.  At the end of their shift, their was plenty of space in which they could have talked, but they positioned themselves right next to me and talked while I was listening to audio.  I turned round later and saw them looking at me and hanging out to me almost with a lovelorn look.  They were like dogs after a bitch on heat (I used to have one.  They tried to mate with my leg when I took her out).

If they have something to say they should say it.  If they don’t I shouldn’t be getting their demands for attention.  What they are doing is harassment and invasion of privacy and feels psychologically violent and without justification.  It is that simple.

There is a lady at Deptford Reach, Dee, who keeps vamping at me with my voice and mode of expression. She is one of the workers and she does it to me all the time when she is supposed to be helping.  A homeless project worker doing that to a homeless client that she knows doesn’t like it.  She said quite deliberately today that something ‘drove her insane’.  I remained silent.  It was confrontational and I believed it was inappropriate.  She knows how I feel, we have had the conversation/argument many times.  She is imposing herself on/over me with me.  It is emotionally and psychologically disturbing and draining.  Then I have to go out, her having done that, and deal with all the other sickos.  She knows everything, I have told her, on the first day.  I didn’t tell her so she could do this to me with it.  I told her to help her and warn her and so that she could better help me.  That was about 2 months ago.  It is as if she is queening oin front of me with my personality, saying ‘what are you going to do about it, because I’m not going to stop’.  In the context it feels violent and I feel clubbed blind and stupid.

I feel I am answering my own questions as I am writing and believing she is trying to find a point of identification and to help and not to dominate.  But I go in trying to avoid getting hurt in the first place.  My guard is already up, because all the workers know and no one is saying anything.  Some of the male workers stare at me for ages with this energy, and keep shifting and marking and calling over me if I speak.  I makes me angry, but I know my anger is impotent, and so do they, and that makes it worse because they don’t move from doing it and I get the impression they do it because they think they can get away with it.  Every time I try to reclaim myself someone is on top of me.

I’ve noticed loads of people touch their ears.  I don’t.  Sometimes it has been obvious they are hearing a voice or some sort of psychic thing is happening to them.  I don’t do the ear-touching thing.  Maybe because I am in too much shock and am continually being forced under or open.

Mentally, emotionally and physically I am ready to lash out at these people, both those who demand of me or make me vulnerable, and those who look at me in fear or as if I am some sort of personal offence and to be treated as an object of disgust, them not even knowing me.  Those who take advantage of my fear of confronting them to impose themselves on my immediate space in a way they have no right to.  Yellow jacket almost skinheads (say what you like about moving with the times and it being OK, extreme nationalist groups still use it for initiation/identification, and a person’s first impression is created by sight and association), imposing themselves on a tired, homeless woman trying to get through the night, silently demanding attention from me, or standing almost right on top of me when I have my headphones on, with all the space that is available to them at this terminal.

The thing is they do this, and I can’t cope with the things I need to do, or remember to communicate (since most people do the voice takeover thing on me), so if these people are going to freak me out with this kind of activity, they should make the phone calls I need to make and pay for all the stopgaps I have to pay for while I am too hurting and distracted by the abuse to help myself.

If x, Why y?

People say Bulgaria is a developing country.  Often that kind of thing is said in the context of needing to make allowances for them.

Who is having to make the allowances?  people like me, who have to live with their dishonesty, violence, harassment, torture, accusations, hatred and interrogations.

It is dishonest for these people to plead that they are still developing, and dishonest for my authorities to back them up in that plea.

I have been here 21 months, and in all that time when I should have been resolving problems at home and buying the home I came here to buy, I have been trying to deal with violence and intimidation and psychological domination instead, from everyone, including authorities, including the British Embassy.

In two days I am due to lose the only home I have known throughout the last 15 years while this diagnosis of schizophrenia has been enforced every time I have said I am being stalked and harassed.  I have no other home.  These people open their mouths and sound like savages.  I could not live here.  They are deliberately criminally invasive and hateful and insist on saying ‘dobre’.  Every leva this country has had from me has been armed robbery.  In the end you feel they are saying ‘don’t say things like that’ and you are supposed to laugh it off and there is something wrong with you if you don’t.

If it is true that 90% of people here were against the communist regime, why is everyone a self-styled, amateur torturer and interrogator and inquisitor?

I would not sound so stupid if I was not now getting the ‘dobre teatro’ soup treatment poured all over me.  I mean every word I have said.  I only wish I could say it more effectively and feel it as I should, feel its truth and not be undermined in my mind.

Never ‘sorry’, only ‘dobre’, and I completely disagree with their ‘dobre’, which is harassment in itself and puts nothing right.

My own authorities have not helped, with their knowing I am still in receipt of benefits, maybe even making sure that I am, but not giving me the power of that knowledge.  Government and church.

I’m sick, I’m tired, I feel ill, I feel as if I should come home.  But what waits for me there?  They are going to take my home in two days.  Nothing better waits for me.  They are as blind and in denial and dishonest, between them.  I understand the language, the air is dirtier, things are more expensive, and if i insist on what is happening I could find myself back under an enforced mental health drugs regime.  I could.  No one has officially told me otherwise.

These people and their sick, hard, hateful, defiant and dishonest, lying dobres.

My boundaries have been so violated I feel I should be asking for help from the violators, instead of writing as I am.  That is completely inappropriate.  All of these people’s utterances are like a virus keying into my mind and emotions when they are operating.  I don’t want to believe that something that makes me feel this way is from God.

Edit note:

This appeared straight after mine on the Christianity board:  http://05varvara.wordpress.com/2011/09/18/vasili-belyaev-sofia-the-holy-wisdom-of-god-spasa-na-krovi-the-church-of-the-saviour-on-the-spilt-blood-st-petersburg-rf-undated-1890s/#respond

I tried to comment on the coincidence but no go.  Sofia, spilt blood, emotional and psychological violence, for me, in context.

Last time I tried to come home, on 2 consecutive days, I was stopped by the police at Sofia airport.  Held illegally and intimidated and insulted and shouted at and toyed with for 5 hours, them refusing to tell me if I was under arrest, insulting my passport, a doctor shouting and laughing in my face.  I’m afraid of the whole process and result of trying to go back to the UK.  I’ve also had an old landlord here, from Plovdiv and liviing in the UK (London, I think) threaten me with ‘trouble’ and that they know where I live in London.  I’ve had several people pass me here, some in cars, and say ‘Plovdiv’ as they have passed, shouted it, if in a car.

I’ve got a woman above me who keeps keying spoken dobres into my mind as I am writing.  It is either occult or hacking.  I lost my internet connection the first time I tried to post.  She has just done that nervous cough I have got used to in all situations where I write an observation like my last one.  The music is up very loud and has been for 2 hours, even during this legally quiet time of the afternoon.  No one cares about the law here either.  It’s a bit like the UK in that respect.  Men have just started shouting in the building.  So many coincidences, innocent or otherwise.

I need support and might find arrest and beaurocracy and red tape under the mental health act or something else, and upstairs they are purring invasively in a way which feels violent and illegal and disempowering.

Beaurocracy, invasively, and disempowering are being challenged by spell check.  How disturbing that such normal and understood words should be subject to challenge.

Bureaucracy?  Oh, OK!  Funny, I just checked the internet and the right version appears once on the first page.  The rest are misspelt the way I did it.

Thanks for listening.

I arrived in Yambol last night and booked into a hotel.  One of the people who works here took me to a supermarket to see if they sold soya milk.  We passed a taxi and as soon as the driver saw me he shouted out my name.  Now I have the same problem in this hotel as I’ve had everywhere else, bleating Virgin Mary impression hallelujah and everything.  At my voice, at my media.  This is crazy and sick.  You people are crazy and sick and making me the same way.  I’m desperate in my mind when I need to think about saving my home, and your occult harassment is all I can hear, theatre purity harassment.  Stop this bloody, blood-crying woman.  Here and everywhere.  On Monday I could lose my only home.  Illegally.  Because this indecent and illegal harassment is making me too hysterical to function.

Desperate enough that this should be seen.  I know reading a blog does not hold you legally accountable, but in a situation like this, any authority which hides behind that is corrupt and indecent, though I have heard politicians in my own country’s parliament use that for derision of a fellow member.  I, on the other hand, am completely powerless and illegally diminished.  Please do not plead that legal get out clause with me.

I just let my neighbours have this, as reliably as I could using Google Translate.  This is where I have always stood, and repeatedly said so, and written so, though what I have written has been legally ignored with the dishonest excuse I have already mentioned.  I always know now that, at least here in Bulgaria, there is a whole mafia, physically dangerous or seemingly benign, that is watching what I write as I write it.  My upstairs neighbours love making me aware that they are a part of it.  I also said to them, at the end of what I am going to quote, that the fact the were up there now doing what they are doing, and not with the police, is a crime.  I also said that they are so indecent and sadistic using my little Bulgarian knowledge against me for interventions and emotional and thought control, they have no right to exist.  That is strong and maybe they are doing it unconsciously, but I don’t think so.  I have told them before I have little Bulgarian and they use that against me, so they are conscious.  If they think it doesn’t matter that is something else, they are selfish and stupid.

I know that authorities, legal and political authorities and church authorities, in both countries, know my exact address.  I also know a lot of what you know you know from my blog, or from what used to be seen quite clearly as illegal hacking, but is now being presented to me, in my case, as a grey area, and communication to the police which their website says will receive an answer in a number of days not being replied to at all.  This is gross.  This is corrupt.  The only victims of stalking you are interested in are the ones already in the public eye either through celebrity or through tragedy which has allowed you to make their names household words.  It is completely corrupt.  The rest of us can lose our homes and anything else, and be slandered and misrepresented and violently harassed, and rot in a mental hospital if we squeak when you don’t lift a criminal and corrupt finger to deal with your fellow criminals with whom I have to share close breathing space.  If I say I’m being stalked, you say that belief is a sign of metal illness, but if someone with the public eye and ear says it, you have to jump to it, while covering your own stalking, and run your exposes on the people who have failed to cover their tracks.

This is the word of the Lord.  Thanks be to God.  (Truth, in other words.  The bible says, ‘thy word is truth’.  So I suppose all truth is God’s word.  [she has just brayed ‘yes.  I’m not moaning, but this is exactly the kind of mentally and emotionally and spiritually violent abortion I am talking about.n  nThis woman is a gloating, free, sadistic, mentally and spiritually abusive criminal.  And you are deliberately nurturing and protecting her.  This makes me hysterical with pain and she plays on that as well.  My whole mind knows she is smacking her vampire chops on my blood.  You know it too.  One of them keeps tapping at all of my sentences and attempts to connect at this point.  This is their usual behaviour.  My stats say I have under 10 readers most days and no one is ever seen to comment.  I know there is other stuff going on, you all communicate it.  There is something illegal and abusively manipulative going on with my stats here, whatever the source of that manipulation.  Either that or there is a real and indecent and self-protecting indifference, maybe even under instruction from unspiritual and illegal church authorities.  If I slag off my church authorities or any other, right or wrong, these bastards above me love it.  It is like gloatingly, cruelly, maliciously and sadistically saying ‘you’re not supposed to criticise your authorities’].  I hear the cruelty.  I hear the dripping blood from her mouth.  This hallelujah and dobre sayer, these violent people, physical and mentally – are they being accepted by church authorities as Christian?  You should tell me, one way or the other.  In Bulgaria they say over 90% of the population is Christian.  I don’t know if they are accepting the self-definition and possibly deliberately misleading assertions of criminals like these who remain free to violate and abuse, or not.  It is something I do need to know.)

(Edit note)  I would have put this at the end, but when I tried I couldn’t create a new paragraph.  I found this interview with a non-consensual CIA behaviour modification program survivor.  I found it under the brainwashing tag, at the moment it is the featured post on that board.  As I said in my comment to the blogger, the final sentence of the interview hit me with the power of a whole world, emotionally.  The survivor said, ‘there are no good guys to root for anymore’.  That could be turned round and people could say ‘but that is obviously not true and in this technological age some surveillance methods are necessary which people might say are an invasion of privacy and while tragic mistakes happen we try to avoid them, obviously, and put them right as soon as we know’.  I have to say, if you really believe that is a right and justified position, why are you trying to hide your communication and activity towards me?  National security?  I have no personal security anymore, so it can’t be that.  So I suppose that might make me a traitor, and if that is true, then I am obviously sorry and I feel it deeply.  But coping with believing that, in that case, all my beliefs about the wrongness of your surveillance programmes is wrong itself, leaves me vulnerable and disorientated.  That and you keeping me as a fugitive with nothing but your sunny smile and your benefits, your illegal and evasively irresponsible sticking plaster on this atrocious haemmorhage, but which makes you feel you are at least doing something and me feel could be turned round on me as my criminality at any moment that suited you, or that at least I should be obedient and grateful and co-operative.  This vampire woman is going for the emotional blood of my throat.  She is making me want to beg, and when you don’t answer, that is part of their triumph.  If they are not going to be punished for this, that is evil.  They are treating me like a seance spirit they have a right to tap at and call up.  And sometimes, usually, it is more violent than just tapping.  And she keeps the psychologically and emotionally contradictory vocalisations coming, and you all look pretty and misty and tearful into your cameras.  That is indecent.  She is vomiting ugliness all over me.  I’m covered in blood, and it isn’t holy, and I haven’t shed it.

I had a pastor once, or I read it somewhere, who said don’t believe the devil even if he speaks the truth.  Recently I’ve wondered why not, as that enables people to ignore people they don’t like, and that can be cruel and cutting.  I would modify it to don’t assume the devil has a right to hold you accountable, even if he speaks the truth.  And don’t let anyone working on his behalf believe they have that right either. They are using their loud tv now.  We all know how it works, it has been happening and witnessed long enough.  WE ALL KNOW HOW IT WORKS.  STOP PUTTING US AWAY FOR SAYING SO IF YOU FEEL THREATENED.  STOP DOING EVERYTHING TO US SHORT OF MURDER.  STOP TELLING US WE ARE FREE AND PUTTING US IN MENTAL HOSPITALS FOR TALKING ABOUT OCCULTISM AND STALKING WHILE YOU YOURSELVES KNOW AND ARE DOING IT, EVEN IF YOU WANT TO INTELLECTUALISE IT AND BACK IT UP WITH SCIENTIFIC SMART(IE)S AND DON’T WANT TO FACE THE FACT THAT THAT IS WHAT IT IS THAT YOU ARE DOING.(end of edit note)

Oh, there were several time gaps between the conveying of the following paragraphs because of several things, not least Google Translates volume limitation.  They were active throughout.  The first thing they do when they hear me go to bed is bang on my ceiling, after a few minutes, and sometimes wake me up intermittently the same way.  Whatever time of the day or night.  And they still bang and comment whern I go to the toilet.  I daren’t go, they are so emotionally manipulative I think it is me that is wrong and it is my fault.  The way she is braying at the moment is making me feel she is bloody with her own blood and that it is my fault.

you are violent criminal stalkers and I do not welcome the knowledge that you are stalking everything I read and watch and listen to and write on the internet at the moment that I am doing it.  You are more like abortionists than midwives.  What results is mutilated and what should have been is never seen or conceived in my own mind, such is the trauma or the enormity of your position that such stalking could possibly be right.  I would like to know what Christian leaders you are getting your advice from, because they also know I hold this position.  Even while I am writing this, I can hear your comments and reactions, and that also changes what might have been said.  You are interfering with my mind.  I am sure you must realise, but are too proud and selfish to say so, that this is wrong and complete inhumanity and fascism.  This is Google translate.  I hope you will understand.  With you in this situation it is all I am willing to use. Brainwashing cult.
Stop deliberately dropping whatever you deliberately drop on my ceiling.  It sounds as if it could be rosary beads, usually.  You are violently and dangerously superstitious, and abusing the graces of Christian symbolism.  Stop all of your emotional manipulation and alteration techniques, all of which I am familiar with.  Stalking my typing keeps you on top of being able to do that, and I can’t say anything of my own or the way I want to say it.  Therefore I will give you nothing.  You only have what has been violently stolen by others and given to you, or what you have violently stolen yourselves.  First you drop what you drop, then make me hear you moderating and modulating the emotional tone of what I and everyone else around here hears coming from you, while I know the reason you need to do that in the first place, you violent stalking criminals, is that you are second by second criminally accessing my computer and all that happens on it.  This is first degree metal abuse and torture.  If Jesus had a grave, he would turn in it. 

 I don’t care what you are dropping, you are doing it deliberately and for harassment aqnd you have no right.  Stop your torture tapping even as I write.  I assume you know you are stopping my ability to deal with illegtal eviction procedings in my only British home?  It is in my emails.  That is part of your emotional arsenal and spiritual abuse.  You are disgusting and indecent, all of you involved in this.  I have 10 days before I become homeless in the UK.  I am sure you must know this.  whether you do or not, there is no excuse for your activity.  You can abort my mental connections and emotional appropriateness but you cannot silence my words.  But I cannot deal face to face with dishonest and violent people who have power over my life with those connections cut.  You are trying to make me dependent, weak and powerless, whatever it costs me, and however criminal you yourselves have to be.  If you are Chistians I suppose you want to chalk up a triumph for your brand of Christianity and take the credit for any rescue.  That is warped. 

This is what I wrote before the two unscripted emotional safety outburst you just heard.  You savage, harassing woman, you do not have my permission to vocalise or communicate to me in any other such way that you are aligning yourself, in your sweet little mind only and with no benefit to me in changes in your actions and output, in agreement.  Such communication is a violent verbal assault and insult.  And don’t clatter your dishes at what you know I have written and am going to say.  I think this will make a good blog entry for today.  I’ve copied it all to email, as you know.  

After Cain killed Abel and God asked him where he was, Cain said, “am I my brother’s keeper?”

I feel as if my upstairs neighbours are my keepers.  Or that they see me as an animal in captivity for observation and experimentation, or as a subject of some form of pest control.

Until a few years ago I was never one for talking about vibes and energy, but now it is unavoidable.  Every time my mind goes into recreative and positive relaxation a sound from them is imposed on it, usually vocal, normally sounding, today, like ‘dobre’, though it could be ‘hallelujah’ or banging.  Throughout the day, all day, every day.  I feel it as ‘don’t you dare’.  Every movement I make they put a sound or comment on top.  She screams like a demon when I come and go.  They do tapping stuff.  She goes from sweet to hate in a second, unless there is another woman there.  My mind can’t cope with it.

Also I have people turning up and ringing my doorbell and when I answer there is no one there.

Every time I become animated within myself and feel I can express myself in a way I like, their voice imposes itself, and I am here like a guilty and frightened thing, desperate and constantly seeing my own expressive life being killed by what can only be called aggressive psychic interference.

I sneezed a few minutes ago.  Sneezing, when my mind feels so bound, feels cleansing, and I like the recovery period, the seconds afterwards.  But as soon as I finished sneezing one of them said ‘dobre’.  I take hold of what I am writing now and give it a mental affirmation as it presents itself, and they speak uncomfortably and as if objecting.  It frightens the life out of me.  That phrase has a whole new meaning for me these days.

I went to the toilet and as I came out one of them said ‘dobre’.  I don’t want not to get on with them but they are making it impossible.

They still bang at me when they hear me in the bathroom.  They stir and bang about uncomfortably or deliberately every time sleep becomes restorative or pleasurable or exultant for me.  If I think about it, it is as if they are dragging me around by the hair.

I went to a pizza restaurant yesterday, and there is a children’s play area right in front of it.  Three girls dressed in yellow stopped and stared at me and I thought about the paedophile rumour.  I sat down and a few minutes later one of them shouted out ‘zestoki’ (cruel), which is something I have been heard to shout at my neighbours.  I don’t know where they got that from.  I felt mentally assaulted and raped.  A bit later the children started screaming, really soul-piercing screams I felt invaded by, and a few seconds later a security guard appeared using a mobile phone, and he stared at me.  I’ve been here a long time.  I wondered if something he had done had been responsible for the screaming and the way it made me feel.  I’ve been harassed by security guards for ages now, sometimes mockingly and exultantly.

I had a couple of women come in and act strangely close to me.  One of them was eyeing me with narrow slit eyes, like an animal ready to pounce, and I was blank, I didn’t smile because my mind was preoccupied.   Then she went into a wonderful awesome sociable switched on beauty routine.  The clearest face, the most beautiful, fluttering almond eyes.  Face held up to her man.  I resented it, it seemed theatrical and aggressive.  I noticed she had a child with her, a girl of about 8 or 10 who seemed to be a bit ill-behaved, I can’t quite remember how.  I looked and thought, ‘like mother, like daughter’.   But as I kept looking I realised the girl was uncomfortable and wanted attention that she was being denied, and she kept trying to get it, then she looked bored and wandered off.  And I thought, ‘poor kid, having a mother like that’.

That was when my scepticism and my ‘I don’t believe this’ response kicked in, and I decided to have a good, doubting, examining look at the whole act.  Shortly afterwards they got up and left, but as they walked away it looked almost as if she deliberately divested herself of a character.  Afterwards it seemed to me that the whole atmosphere in the restaurant was changed.  I had felt before that people seemed so happy and relaxed, but afterwards everyone was awkward and trying to recover comfortable and natural behaviour.  I would call it vamping, but she seemed to be presenting herself as one of God’s and nature’s beauties, dominant in her way and empty-headed.

I feel as if I am being malicious now, but I’m not.  I’ve had women doing this around me a lot when I go out, and I don’t know why.  Every time I get a moment of mental light and start thinking about what I am writing or examining it, the voice I find frightening from the woman upstairs when I am trying to write imposes itself and it is like an electric shock saying, ‘thou shalt not’, or ‘I don’t want you to’.

Thinking about it it reminds me that I have betrayed my own intentions and that I came here for the country and the people, not to be separate on a computer all the time.  But it feels like my refuge from their madness and invasiveness, as well as a chain in itself, and they won’t let me have that refuge.  The feeling that I can go to them and be friendly and that it will be welcome imposes itself, or is imposed on me, at the most psychologically inconvenient and resented and rebelled against times.  They have tied me up in knots, these changelings, and left me feeling guilty for not wanting to be available when I think I realise they want me to be.

They still comment when I cough, they still comment when they hear my computer and, if it is songs, at the change of every track.  They bang when I shit and comment when I fart or belch.

Jesus, does anyone understand this and how it makes me feel?  I was going to say, ‘how I feel about it’, because pop psychology in recent years has said that nothing can make you feel something, you feel it for your own reasons.  As I wrote it the man’s voice came in sharp and aggressive, like a knife into my mind, and now I can’t rework or work with anything.  When she opens her mouth it is as if she is piercing the air demanding power or recognition.  It often happens when possibilities and connections open up in my mind that I begin to feel happy and positive about.  So to me she seems to be saying, continually, ‘you owe me’.

One of Shakespeare’s characters ends a play saying, “the world is a stage and we are its actors”.  I was tagging this and thinking about the theatre aspect and watching and being watched, and that that approach to life runs counter, it seems to me, to the approach of the spirituality I have valued that emphasises unselfconsciousness.  I felt it when people started telling us to be vigilant about terrorism threats after 9/11.  Maybe that is my problem and misunderstanding.  If you are educated in the warning signals maybe you don’t go around with the terrorist attack threat constantly in your mind and even when the thought can’t be found, if the right things present themselves you become aware there might be a cause for concern.  To me, life is not for going around being consciously vigilant.

“Punch Drunk”

Read here.  Tagged “women” but not appearing.  Since posting it I have read something that suggested, so it seemed to me, that Plovdiv was a victim of communism, so my thoughts and understanding might be at least a bit wrong.  I’m not sure, my situation isn’t simple.

Do you remember, did you watch, the western, years ago, where someone took revenge on a man by slowly spit roasting him?  Later they came back to him, or someone else did, and the man was all but dead, and he said ‘kill me, please kill me’?  He was handed a gun, and he shot himself in the head.

I was looking at Owen Thomas again this evening, he seems to have been presenting the news all weekend.  I heard what was coming out of his mouth, this man with the presentation of an angel, and it was completely obscene.

There was a man with a BBC tee shirt living next to me.  People used to use my music a lot.  One of the songs I played was a Larry Norman song which had the line ‘with the face of an angel and the heart of a beast’.  It seems to me they have taken sadistic pleasure in populating the media with people like that.

I want to die.  I’ve got nothing left to live for.  Everywhere I go I run into demon-possessed, subhuman, rapacious dogs and killers.  They have killed me.  They have murdered me.  Christians and non-Christians alike.  I wish I had never bothered with any of them.  Some friends these people have turned out to be.  Give me a year, then bugger off, then never make committed contact again.  Even block me twice on their Youtube account.  Leaving me to these harassing, raging, banging, howling dogs that the whole world seems to be peopled with.

And the more distress and pain I express, the more all of them, including Christians, sadistically pump out sweetness and light.  Leaving me feeling like a crying, huddled up wreck blubbering in a corner.

There is no God, they have killed Him.  I might as well die too.  These people, especially the most angelic looking and sounding, are aggressively satanic and hateful.  They have already killed me.  They will not be challenged.  Anyone who challenges them will be open to question themselves, and I can’t see that anyone is willing to be in that position.

I am being eaten alive by spiritual and psychological, open-throated, animal-like, savage cannibals.  I feel I have no existence worth holding on to.  That’s what the bible says: ‘their throats are open sepulchres’.

Loose paraphrase:  Which would you rather receive, a comment saying ‘great post!  check out my blog at (www.suebarnett.wordpress.com, in my case)’ or one saying ‘well said!  I know what you’re talking about because . . . and I think . . .’?

While the forum, if properly, fairly and legally run, is useful and sometimes feels helpful, I for one would rather not be nagged and patronised and treated like some sort of a great-niece or child or student in a classroom in this way.   As far as I am concerned, we comment the way we can at the time, and those of us who are sincere in our comments and appreciation might well be using that shorthand to say, ‘I am so impressed with what you have to say here, there is nothing I feel able to add, but I would appreciate you looking at my blog because I think yours is an opinion I would value’.

Some people, like me, sometimes read and blog in distress, or very focussed on their own thing and they are desperate to have someone else aware of and concerned about the things they are concerned about.  I don’t think we need to sanitise and make anodyne the way everyone should leave their comments, or that anyone should see it as an insult or somehow inadequate if a person says, ‘great post, please check out my blog’.  It might be all they are capable of at the time, and it might show more appreciation than launching into an opinion.

While I understand exactly what is being said and on the whole agree with it, there are times of desperation or recognition, for me, when I can’t say what I want without it being as short as possible and straight to the point.  I’m thinking, maybe pretentiously, of the difference between a diver, say, at their most polite and articulate, saying something like, ‘honey, would you mind getting the air cylinder out of the car?’ and a woman in intense labour pains screaming and swearing and snarling like a savage at her helper who insists on going by the book to shut up and give her the mask.  Something like that.  There are other situations of pain where the same would apply.  Or the difference between someone swimming yelling ‘hey, great to see you, come on in, let’s play ball’, and someone else in the water drowning doing their best while trying to snatch air to attract the attention of someone to help them.

Etiquette is for the adequate and sometimes even for the indifferent and self-absorbed, to get what they want with as little friction as possible.  Many people are inadequates who accept that about each other, and don’t want to be told they should emulate the adequate, bright, happy, switched on people in order for their contribution to be acceptable.

And while I’m thinking about it, someone said that most people live lives of quiet desperation.  But we have been taught in the past, if not now, to be completely hypocritical about that fact when applying for a job, for instance.  I can’t theorise on why that is at the moment, but if a person is desperate for a job, and also capable of doing it or of learning to, why should they be advised to rely on such self-negating and relationship-sabotaging dishonesty and subterfuge right from the beginning, and why should anyone be taught that it is not acceptable to show desperation if it exists?  I’ve never employed anyone, so I don’t know if employers are advised to despise desperation, or if the advice is based on the belief that, if someone sees you are desperate, they might take advantage of you, but it seems to me that no honest and honorable relationship can be based on an initial dishonesty of that kind.

It also occurs to me that the kind of comment WordPress is presenting as less desirable might be nothing more than the expression of an internalisation of that advice which allows for nothing more.  Keep it light, keep it casual, can easily translate to, ‘hey, that’s great, come and see mine!’  We need permission to become honest again, not instructions on how to become presentable and acceptable to other people in order to compensate for and not address the fact that experts in communication have told us to steer clear of some kinds of honesty.

So thank you for your advice, WordPress, and I hope this post might be in line with the kind of comments and responses you would like to see.  And please check out my blog at www.suebarnett.wordpress.com. Thank you for reading and for letting this pass the moderation procedure (which I personally find also inhibits and tampers with my ability to communicate as I would wish, sometimes.  If I’m not even sure I am going to get through the door or have my existence acknowledged or welcomed, why should I and how can I lay myself bare, as it were, in my response?  Often closed doors and rejection make desperate and battered people who can hardly hear you anyway, even with the impecceable (and expensive) etiquette of having a butler to hold the door wide open).

Oops, here we go!  Back to me.  If you go through a butler, you have probably had to go through other levelsof protocol as well, and how you handle them might determine whether or not you get as far as the butler.  In church I was taught that this procedure is a way of reveaing a person’s heart and whether or not ‘they are ready’ for access.  They never, to my memory, said anything or much about any inadequacies or unreadiness expressed by the person requiring such protocol.  Is it right that the person expected to go through it should be the only one expected to fit? In reality does it even work that way?  Some people want the challenge of the protocol because they want a process of validation or change.  I happen to believe that in some situations I am one of those people.  But if the people imposing or handling the protocol don’t respect that about me or even respect the protocol itself . . . .  protocol is a mutual thing, isn’t it, not just from the top down.  I’m sure it should be and that really that is how it should work.

His name is Esteban.

(Copy with some tags I had to exclude.  First published 11.08 am Bulgarian time.)

I watched the recording last night of last week’s sermon by Kristian Lythe.  I had forgotten his name, I’ve not seen or heard of him for ages.  But Kristian mentioned him in his sermon, he had made a traffic lights illustration.  He was saying something about red lights, among other things.  I don’t know how much of the sermon I would need to talk about to have you understand.  It can be found at http://www.kt.org/media. (note: please don’t be distracted by the shouting and his insistence on having the word of the Lord or anything else you see and hear.  If any of it is true [how much of it can be?] it is still not the point).

I don’t know how they get hold of information like this about people in my life, but it particularly concerns me that they have sufficient information about this man, Dr Gallo, to use a lookalike of him. Maybe my concern and the way I am handling it are stupid, selfish, treacherous and ungrateful.  I was assuming that they had the information through having had direct communication with Dr Gallo, but that might not be true.   But if it is true, although personally and emotionally I would like to come out and patch things up, I really think there is cause for concern here.  They had told me to leave the church.  I haven’t been there for over a decade.

What are they doing with something like this, it is none of their business, and neither Dr Gallo nor anyone else has ever brought this connection up with me. I’ve known for ages they do the same things with close family and past friends and acquaintances.  As I have said before, I do feel love and I do feel loyalty, but this is stalking, in a way the psychiatric team has told me doesn’t happen, or at least, isn’t happening to me, and they have partly based their diagnosis on my insistence that it does and is.

My Christian response is my biggest felt response, but also I need to keep identification with others in the psychiatric patient community (excuse terminology, maybe I should talk more in terms of mathematical sets, for which being a part of one doesn’t necessarily imply relationship)  and recognise that this is stalking, it is a step, or more like several steps, too far in ruling a church and church discipline and discipleship, I need to employ the term ‘heavy shepherding’ because people recognise it, and recognise myself that this is what is happening in this situation.

They and other churches I’ve been involved with have been challenged many, many times by me about this, in emails, through my blog, and emails are not answered and no conversation entered into through my blog.  David Shearman’s church bounces my emails back to me, whether I have mentioned his name or not in the address or body of my email (I no longer send them and have assigned any responses to ones I do send to the spam folder) saying david.shearman@christian-centre.org is not a valid email address.  If this is supposed to be heart talk for please come home, then I am sorry, and it is probably my loss.  That email address used to be valid, I don’t know if it is only me that gets that kind of response, or used to until I stopped emailing.

I’m very, very sorry, but this is awful.  I feel awful for handling it this way.  I’m not even fully convinced that they are wrong to do this anymore, and that is one of the reasons I need feedback and help from people in whom I have expressed trust who might be more convinced than I am.  I am too emotionally caught up to fight, and the way my readers distance me, on the whole, makes that worse. These people know who they are, and some of them know I love them because I believe they are the sort of people who would want to help and not cause injury.

I might be mistaken in my assessment, in fact at the moment I would like to cause injury myself and have obviously felt that way for ages.  I don’t think in a situation like this that makes me nuts or dangerous, even if under extreme provocation and in distress I even employ gestures to demonstrate how I feel when everything else is ignored.  When I was a kid ‘I’ll kill you’ meant ‘you have gone too far’, not ‘you’d better take steps to separate yourself from me and protect yourself’.  It might be crass and it might not be used in the kindest of relationships, but that is still the way it is for plenty of people who are not considered to be in need of incarceration.  I had it said to me plenty of times.  I’ve never thought of considering that anyone who said it should be locked up.  But maybe I should, on hindsight.  It is emotional thuggery if nothing else.

Ps I have heard Christian leaders involved in this say ‘prove it’.  In something like this that is neither honorable nor Christian.  Robb Thompson was one of them.  He might have been talking about something else.

Tommy, I really do believe this is something that needs to be dealt with, not only for my sake, but for that of others as well.  You have taught me well on that and I’m grateful (even if I don’t always feel I like you very much).  It is as close as a church can get to kidnap.  I know even this gesture towards you rather than coming to you directly is enough to break trust.  I feel that and it feels irrevocable. Partly I feel I’m disempowering myself in any way I could relate to you, and I believe you also need me to be empowered in any relationship we might have, as I need it myself.  So maybe this is just useless empty gesture time again.  I am implicating you, but I’m implicating you to try to empower you, if you think that is something I’m capable of.

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

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

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

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

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

WAGblog: Dum Spiro Spero

"While I breathe, I hope"

Emerging From The Dark Night

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

The Elephant in the Room

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

The Sir Letters

A Tale of Love

The Seeker's Dungeon

Troubling the Surf with the Ocean

Seroquel Nation

Onward and upward...

We are all in this together

it's gonna be okay.

my last nerve

psychology | psychiatry | neuroscience | n stuff

A Philosopher's Blog

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