Tag Archive: Hope


Manchester Suicide Bombing

I don’t say much about news items usually, because I feel so under siege in my own home I can go days without seeing any news. I saw someone post earlier about Manchester but I’ve only just listened to Premier Radio’s Inspirational Breakfast. I broke off half way through to get a cup of tea.

I had Om Shri Matre Namah playing on a loop in the lounge and I found it helped me to process some of what I was feeling. There have been many times when I have felt an appreciation of the depth and beauty of Krishna Das as a priest (he was a priest in Maharaj-ji’s temple), and of a lot of the material he draws on in his chants. This was one of those times. And this mantra, Om Shri Matre Namah, meaning ‘I bow to the divine Mother’ seemed completely appropriate as a prayer for the situation.

In my particular stream of Christianity it may be frowned upon, probably most definitely will be, that I could even be saying this. But Catholicism honours Mary.  Islam does, too.  Even in my own background I was taught that the Holy Spirit has mother-like qualities. In the creation story in Genesis it says that the Spirit brooded over the waters. I heard back in my teens that God is also called the ‘many breasted one’. The mother is the archetypal source of love and nurture.

There are many other kirtan leaders than Krishna Das, but he is the one I know best. He says that when these chants or mantras are sung they are an invocation to the love within us, who we truly are. Whatever we think of how it does or doesn’t work, it seems to me that God as Mother is a model we are badly in need of. Not God the Warrior, God the Judge. People say we become what we worship, so I think it would be good for all of us on this planet, men, women and children, to begin to discover, value, release and cultivate within ourselves and each other the Mother heart, mind and nature of God that exists in so many of the world’s religions, including both Christianity and Islam.

 

Om Shri Matre Namah
I bow to the divine Mother
Within and Without
 
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Oh Happy Day!

I’m very happy today!  Yesterday I saw my psychiatrist and nurse, and my Community Treatment Order has been extended to next April so they can make sure I am OK when I finish coming off my meds.  I’m not happy that the CTO has been extended, but I am happy that I seem to be OK coming off the meds, I feel better than I have felt in a long time.  And there is no problem with my new neighbours, and I don’t expect one to develop.

I suppose that, even if no problems develop here, the psychiatric team will still say that I was ill before, and that I was imagining women shouting ‘hallelujah’.  It seemed real, both here and in Bulgaria, where it first started.  But the psychiatrists say it was only real to me, that it was an auditory hallucination.  I don’t know, I have no proof, but neither do they.

Today I feel hopeful for the future, and happy that I feel hopeful.  Yesterday I felt a lot of grief.  I had a disturbing dream last night about John and Anne Coles, but I can’t remember it now.

On Tuesday I went to Coventry to see Michael Palin.  He was funny and interesting.  I missed him here in Nottingham because the tickets were sold out.  As Jennie, my nurse, said, it is probably the biggest thing I have done since I came out of hospital.  She said I deserved it, even though it turned out to be more expensive than I was happy with.  I booked a night in a good hotel to make sure I got a decent night, but it was a way out of town and in the opposite direction from Warwick Arts Centre, where the evening was held.  I didn’t mind the price of the hotel, but I did mind paying nearly £100 in taxi fares over less than 24 hours.  I did take out £100 to cover taxi fares, but I didn’t expect to have to use nearly all of it.  Oh well, it’s done now, and it was a good evening.

I just watched ‘What A Girl Wants’ with Colin Firth on ITV2.  That was good, it gave me a bit of a lift.  Last night I posted something a bit despairing on Facebook on the Speak Out Against Psychiatry page, but so many people came to my rescue I don’t feel despairing now.  I’m still quite lonely, but I’ll have to do something about that.  My nurses have been the closest thing I have had to friends over the last year.  Pete, the nurse I have coffee with every week, is helping me find voluntary work and is taking me to The People’s Choir next Thursday.  I don’t sing so loud here as I used to in London because I don’t want to cause problems, so it might be nice to have the choir as an outlet.

Anyway, that is my update for the moment.  Thank you for reading.  Please leave comments if you have time.

Pastures New

People who have read my blog over the past months will know that I am homeless and have been since 20th September 2011, almost 3 years.  I have now been in hospital for 2 years and 4 months, because they have had no home to discharge me to.

Today I had some good news.  It looks as if my homelessness is about to come to an end, because the council has found me a bungalow with a big garden in Wollaton, Nottingham.  Wollaton has a name for being a nice area, so I hope my part will be as well.  I also hope the bungalow will be big enough to accommodate all my belongings, most of which I have to move from London storage.  I have been told it will cost me £800 to move everything up.

The bungalow will also need to be carpeted, so I think at the moment I don’t have enough money to do both.  I will have to apply to the DWP for a budgeting loan, which mentions carpets and removals as part of what it covers.  I did apply for one before, estimating I would need about £1,000, but the offer was only between £300 and £400, so I didn’t take it up, thinking it would be months and months before anyone found me anything and I’d have time to save.  I have saved quite a bit but the extra loan would make things possible.  I pity those who can’t save.  £300-£400 was supposed to cover both carpeting and removals, which isn’t possible.  After carpeting and removals I will be broke.  The council said the bungalow would be ready to move into around the end of the month, so I still have time to make a further application.  And the hospital won’t just throw me out, but will wait until I can move in properly before discharging me.

Edit note 6th August 2014:  Today I was told that there is laminate flooring in the bungalow, so I won’t need to carpet 🙂

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

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

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

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

Broomhill House

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy New Year

Some people don’t mark the New Year, but I think it’s a good thing to do.  It introduces hope and expectation if we mean what we say.  It’s putting the old behind and opening up to the new.  How simple is it?  Is it about forgiveness and dropping offenses?  Can and should that be done?  Forgiving people means not demanding a price from them, so I’ve been told.  Yet I have plenty of complaints and would even like to sue for damages.  It sounds as if ‘Happy New Year’ should be a clean slate.  That might lead to less overcrowding of the prison system.

In the Bible there is the concept of a Year of Jubilee every 50 years, where land is restored to its original owners, and all debts were forgiven.  I wonder if and how that was enforced, if people were reluctant?

The Bible says ‘do to others as you would have them do to you’.  It doesn’t say only to others who have not damaged or offended you.  I was thinking about it the other day, that doing as you would have done is making a statement about yourself, it is living out of your own value system, and that has to make you an easier and happier person, over all, if you do as you would have done.  I passed some lads on the street the other day and one of them wished me a happy new year.  I just answered ‘thank you, the same to you’.  He answered back ‘yeah, and a happy Christmas’.  I wasn’t sure how sincere he was, he was a bit rowdy, but I felt better that I had answered his words as I would have wanted mine to be answered rather than dismissing him altogether in the first place.  Everyone needs a blessing.

I have wondered if my blogging is just slander of people who have hurt me.  Slander can be true as well as false.  If it is slander it seems to me I should stop blogging about the hurts and atrocities I have encountered in the mental health system and in my neighbourhoods and in the church.  The problem is, I feel so despised by these people, especially in Church, that I have felt as if making it public has been the only realistic way forward.  I was at Talbot Street when David Shearman was preaching.  Before he got up to preach he turned and stared at me.  I have thought that I didn’t know what I was supposed to do, if I was supposed to go to him at that point or not, what did he want his staring at me to achieve?  He got up and preached and at the end he waved a hand in my direction and said ‘you won’t be getting any of it’.  I’ve had that before from other church leaders.  All I know for sure is that it showed something about his thoughts, feelings and attitudes towards me, it wasn’t a reflection on me as a person, it revealed more about David.  Certainly at that point he was not doing as he wished to be done to him.

I’ve grown up believing in heaven and hell, and I fear that I am going to hell sometimes, because of this treatment I get.  Other times I think I could and should just dismiss all thoughts of heaven and hell from my thinking in relation to the church and just count on God’s mercy, if there is a God and if there is mercy, and if there is a heaven and hell.  I have experienced physical healing instantaneously in response to the prayer of another, I can’t just dismiss that from my experience.  New Age people say we all have the ability to heal, it is not exclusive to Christianity.  Pentecostal Christianity says that healing in other religions is from a demonic source.  Certainly I find myself more at ease with Buddhist meditation music than Christian music.  Christian music for me opens up hope and pain, whereas Buddhist meditation music seems to minister peace and healing for my mind and emotions.  It makes me hopeful about myself and my own abilities, rather than about others who can and do hurt me.

I started off saying Happy New Year, and I wasn’t going to go into church stuff again, but I have.  I feel I could and should trust them, but I know they disappoint me.  They want to be over me, they want power over me, they don’t want a conversation of equals.  They don’t want me to see myself as an equal, and they want me to be in the hands of the mental health services and really believe the mental health services can help, according to a conversation I had with Pat Hopewell at Talbot Street.  She said no to everything I asked and said and told me to stay away from the Shearmans.  If that ‘no’ is coming from the Shearmans I think they are lying.  That is why I am afraid of them.  It’s a cloak of religion over actual facts, it’s like a secret society to which I have no admittance with my needs and experience, unless I go crawling and begging and using the language they like to hear.  Their power over me comes from my entanglement with the mental health system, and that’s where they want to leave me, in spite of all its cruelty and abuses.  They see this as being in the hands of the tormentors until I pay every last penny or forgive.  It is a way of rejecting me.  Those are my fears, I believe they are true.

On Censorship (in my context).

This morning I had a managers’ hearing at the hospital.  The doctor kept using emotive and demeaning language when talking about me.  He said I was strongly deluded and trying to hide paranoid thoughts, etc.  He said it was unrealistic for me to want to go to Bulgaria, even though I’ve already spent 21 months there.  I’m not sure how his name is spelt, he wouldn’t even tell me when I asked him what part of the world he is from, but he pronounces his name Moldovsky.  When I started reading an R D Laing book it said in the introduction that people have a right not to believe in the term ‘schizophrenia’ and all its baggage, but that if people said they don’t believe in it they are said to lack insight.  He kept saying that about me, and that I was guarded.  I told the managers’ panel about this quotation from R D Laing, but it didn’t change their position.  They have kept me on the section 3.  I was strongly advised by my solicitor this morning not to blog about this place.  Tonight I was invited to play bingo in one of the other bungalows and the man who was in charge slipped the word ‘schitz’ in twice, with no context for it.  If I complain about it I will be told that I am mistaken and that he wouldn’t do something like that.  I am afraid to write because it will bring bad feeling into sharp relief.  I am at Enright Close in Newark.  One of the women asked if he would only speak to her to be cheeky and he said yes.  I don’t know what kind of relationship they have with each other.  I can’t see why he couldn’t let himself be pulled up and say he was sorry.  They don’t take anything seriously except their job to observe us and write about us, and throw food away.  That’s how it feels today.  Given that that might not be too far from the truth, I can’t see how anyone can expect anyone to recover from anything here.  Not even enough respect and security to acknowledge when someone says they are being cheeky.  I’m afraid of it turning really nasty, as it did at Highbury and Macmillan Close.  When it matters, they are not approachable and not accountable.  That is my belief born of experience.  Trying to keep it nice is just hypocrisy, it isn’t nice anyway to keep it that way.

Loss, Mortality And Related Issues

I learned something I didn’t know yesterday.  I was watching ‘That Was The Life That Was’, about the late Sir David Frost, and I learned that ‘That Was The Week That Was’ had its first broadcast on my 2nd birthday.  A year later, 2 days before my 3rd birthday, President John Kennedy was assassinated.  I remember watching News at Ten on that day and I was aware that something serious had happened.  I felt very sad and shocked when I heard that David Frost had died.  I think the first I knew of him was when he presented ‘This Is Your Life’, which I always liked to watch.  I found myself wishing last night that my dad had watched TW3 and introduced me to it, but I was only 2.  The programme last night was followed up with ‘Frost on Satire’, and it showed clips from ‘Spitting Image’.  In its time I never watched it and wouldn’t have known who all the characters were, I think I might have seen it twice.  I recognised some of the characters last night though.

Hearing of many people dying, some of whom are not much older than me, makes me feel bereaved, and also aware of my own mortality.  I know I’m only 52, 53 next month, but I am feeling the fact of my own death coming up and it isn’t the best feeling in the world.  I keep feeling there have been so many missed opportunities.  I keep seeing people who have grown up, in the media, and wishing I was like them, that someone had fought properly for me to be educated when I decided that I didn’t like school so I wasn’t going, after my father died.  I feel no one really fought for my family.

I’m sitting in Costa at the moment.  I’ve just had a large mocha and downloaded the two Frost programmes I’ve just been talking about.

I was aware of David Frost partly because I knew he was a Christian.  I feel really upset writing this.  ‘That Was The Life That Was’ showed clips from things that formed a fair bit of my memory.  I remember the President Nixon thing, I saw ‘All The President’s Men’ when it came out.  I remember being in a prayer meeting at Talbot Street when the Watergate Scandal erupted and Gerald Ford took over.  In the meeting people were praying against sin and for righteousness and I wanted to pray that God would help Richard Nixon and his family, because I felt very sad for him, but I didn’t dare pray that way.  No one else was.

I’m not sure how much of this is sadness, really, over these past events and memories, and how much of it is just displaced sadness and grief over my present situation.  Feelings can re-attach to anything.  I admire people like Ian Hislop so much but know they don’t know me and probably wouldn’t be interested in me if they did, because the truth is I have nothing to offer.  Maybe that is what idolatry is, attachment to so many people who don’t even know I exist and might not be interested if they did know.  It is miserable, painful and embarrassing and fruitless and pointless, maybe that is why God commands against idolatry, because in the end it is so painful.  I am nursing a hope that Ian Hislop and so many others will see this and care.  How silly is that?  But what if?  THAT would be fun . . . !

Maybe that is the skill of the programmes I saw last night, hitting on so many memories for so many people, and bringing them to life again.  I feel a bit left behind and I’m crying for someone to help me catch up.

I’m missing Tommy Boyd as well.  I met him properly once.  We tried to have a proper conversation.  He’s deleted his blog and left Facebook and Twitter.  I never thought he would do any of that, especially not deleting his blog.  I feel lost without him and I feel attached to him.  I thought he was trying to help me.  I never thought he would leave broadcasting, but from the lack of information about him on the web at the moment it seems he has done jut that.  A lot of my stability and courage, when I had it, came from him.  I went to his house a few months ago, after I absconded from Macmillan Close, ad his wife was there and we had a conversation in which she told me he probably wasn’t interested and reminded me of when they had called the police.  I am grieving because I thought he wanted to help me.  I feel hopeless and helpless without him.  He told the story of a gorilla that was castrated for raging and throwing stones at people that used to taunt it.  He said that was what they were doing to us as well.  I identified with that with regards to my situation with the mental health services.  He said he thought it was wrong, that people should have been told not to taunt him and a proper environment maintained for him.  Anyway, he is inaccessible now.  I don’t know if he will ever be accessible to me.  I thought he was going to be.  I thought he wanted to be.  I never thought I would have to abandon hope with regard to him, and indeed I dare not.  I wonder what is going on with him?  I wonder if he is OK?

This Is Madness

I’ve read a bit more of this book and I’m finding it very interesting.  For me one of the most important things it says is that with physical illnesses diagnosis starts with something happening in the body and ends up with the diagnostic concept, but with ‘so-called’ mental illness it is the other way round, that it starts with a concept and mental conglomeration in the minds of physicians and they then go looking for people who fit the concept, like crusaders.  The concept is fleshed out in committee and applied to individuals, rather than subjective symptoms first being recognised in the individual and a remedy sought.  That is my memory of what was said in the chapter called ‘Diagnosis’.

I’ve just ordered another book as well called ‘Untrain Your Parrot’ by Elizabeth Hamilton.  It is a well grounded and often humorous approach to Zen.  The book is in the Multi-Faith room at the hospital but we are not allowed to take them out, and sometimes no one is there who can unlock the cabinet where the books are kept.  It makes sense that the books shouldn’t leave the room, it keeps them available and in good condition.  I have found that when I have spent time reading it in there I approach things in a better and lighter mood.  I’m looking forward to having my own copy because I think it is something that I will read and dip into more than once

I’m a lot more open and self-controlled on the ward these days, but I still feel angry, hurt and frustrated at what I see happening with other people.

I’ve got a bad cold at the moment.

We have started making approaches to accommodation.  It seems to me it could move either very quickly or more slowly than I would like.  I would like it to move quickly.

I’ve been reading a few ‘Freshly Pressed’ selections and really enjoying them.  They are so interesting.  I just read one called ‘There was no escaping his father’s words’ which made quite an impact on me.  It’s about a man who meets up in later life with his father who had told him that he was going from fad to fad and I felt those words from his father had partly shaped the man’s life.

I don’t feel able to write much more today.  I am generally feeling quite upset and that I need to cry.  That is what I usually feel inside.  I’ve had no intimacy for a very long time now, and I feel very much that I am getting old.  I am nearer death than birth.  For a wonderful period in my 30s I was unafraid, but now I feel a bit wobbly.  I’m not sure if I’m a real Christian, and I have been taught and believe that only Christians go to heaven.  I have not been taught to be a liberal, and my emotional attachments don’t really allow it.  I have been taught, and believe, that there is a hell for people who are not Christians.  I know to some people that will make me sound really archaic.  I have found myself praying that love and mercy will be my judge in the end, that love (God is love) will save me at death.  There is also the teaching that not everyone will die but Jesus will come back and some people who are living will be caught up to Heaven.  I suppose many people want to believe they will be among those who do not die.  I would like to live beyond 80, even to 100.  I’m afraid I will die much sooner.  I’m really afraid that I might go to hell, and I’m afraid that there will be no one who cares for me intimately when I die.  I have no children and no partner, and the only member of my family I am in contact with is my mother.  I would like not to feel so tired and worn out, and upset and vulnerable, and as if my time now is not worth anything and won’t be, that I have passed a point where there was a point.

Wow, So Busy (in my head)

I’ll make time to draft tonight and post tomorrow.  At least now I have my own laptop again and can draft it offline in the privacy of a room which is not going to disappear!

One comment only:

I wrote everything about the deaths and everything to my psychiatrist. She still decided I was section 3 material and I have received no support following my letter, certainly not any based on the content of my letter, which people who know my blog is personally sensitive, and I asked her if she considered herself responsible for the information I have given her, and she said no.  My immediate response to that was to thank her for that piece of information.

Wrote to my uncle, am now in touch with my sister again.  Wrote to Tommy Boyd, but not with this, have to clear my flat by Friday, they decided I don’t have a close enough connection in my uncle.  That was before they knew I had a sibling here, and before I did, because I didn’t know where she was, but she told me that our uncle had been accepted as a link in her case.

Does the plot thicken,or have the rules changed?

I’vehad nothing in writing about anything, just threats of getting rid of my stuff, on the phone, if I didn’t turn up with basically an hour’s notice.

Love you, you-know-who.  It feels so delusional I daren’t even say your name with that statement.

I Don’t Have To

I don’t have to do everything I feel like doing.  I don’t have to scream if I want to.  If I don’t scream my world won’t end, no one will suffer, in fact, I might be stronger and things might be better if I don’t scream.  I don’t have to let people know they are making me feel like that, then I can get on with and be open to people who DON’T make me feel like that.

It isn’t dishonest, it is a choice, like any other.

If I feel violent, for whatever reason, although it is a strong feeling, I don’t have to express it.  If I recognise that and don’t think it has to rule or can destroy me, or that angry, violent, controlling, demanding people can, if it remains unexpressed, it goes, and it was never mine in the first place.  It was a feeling that I felt, for some reason.  It isn’t me.  Anyone can be driven to feeling violent, but it doesn’t have to be expressed.  If I stop it, the feeling is gone within two or three seconds and I know it was nothing to do with me in the first place.

There are other things I can do with my day that are nicer for everyone.  And the harassers and those who feel entitled and who treat me violently can do as they like.

Edit note:  10 minutes later.  Men started shouting downstairs, it was OK, I didn’t feel threatened, and they didn’t sound threatening.  They were part of the background noise, and I became unaware.  As so often happens in this situation, the people above me banged in a way which felt targeted and violent and abusive.  They have just banged again now.  I could be just me misinterpreting it.  But yesterday they were banging and calling into my media and every pause in the radio recording, so I feel I have to listen with my headphones on now to maintain some sort of self-control when it happens.  Also they were turning heavy power tools on me, as they used to in my apartment in Plovdiv.  After reacting hysterically I told the hotel staff and asked them if they had any workmen and they said they didn’t.  But they also haven’t made any move to stop it after saying they would.  Last night they said they would deal with it ‘tomorrow’, and I insisted on the phone (they phoned me) that they deal with it then, and they said they would, but didn’t.  When I saw the same person later in the evening, about 10.30pm he said he had listened but hadn’t heard anything, and that there was no one there, and he put on a hard expression.  He has said that before and I know it isn’t true.  They make themselves sound, vocally, mot of the time, like nice and lovely people, above me.

I am in the Ricas Hotel in Sliven.  I’m on the 5th floor.  The people doing this, which is exactly like Plovdiv was, are directly above me on the 6th.  Putting this on my blog is easier for me, in every way, than trying to deal with the hotel staff and the authorities, and hopefully might be more effective.  I’m afraid to move.  It has me in such a state that if I try and go somewhere else presenting like this it will just create something bad there as well.  I hope someone will read this and help me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Edit note 6.07 pm UK time:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I Thought There Was No Such Thing

As HP spicy sauce in Bulgarian supermarkets.

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

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

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

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

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

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

There is a passage in the Old Testament I have been worried about for some time now, and my unease with it and my gut rejection of it as basic, primitive and misogynistic has grown.

I can’t remember where it is, but I hope church leader readers will know the part I’m talking about.  I think it might be Leviticus or one of the first 5 books.

It says if a woman is attacked or raped and she cries out for help it isn’t her fault, but if she doesn’t cry out for help it is.  Something like that.  I might be remembering it too black and white.  I can’t find it quickly because I can’t remember the wording.

I don’t think there is any provision for if she is being threatened in any other way and is afraid to shout for help.  If she is afraid to shout for help is it still her fault, and does the fact that she might also be afraid for her own life or someone else’s so doesn’t scream mean the man is not to blame for his actions?  If she feels too threatened or confused to scream or register objection outside of the situation, does that mean the man has not committed an offence?

Also, it seems to be allowing a provision that the woman might have ‘brought it on herself’ or that she deserves it in some way.  If there is that provision, people who think that of her or who want an excuse to not get involved would ignore her and judge her even if she did scream.

I might need to look it up to get a better understanding of the passage.  However, when it comes to the way people act and react and judge and reason I’ve got it right.

Edit note: I just found it and read it.  It’s Deuteronomy 22.  If it’s in a field only the man dies because there was no one to hear her scream.  If it’s in the city and she doesn’t scream, they both die because she should have screamed.  That is if she is married or engaged.  So according to the law the man should get it both ways.

Should I assume that rape and violent threat didn’t go together in those days as they do now?  Should I assume that, because of the death penalty, if the woman had screamed the man would have tried to escape?  Should I assume that these good, law-abiding people would always have obeyed the law to intervene and put a man like this to death?  The prophets are always telling them that they tolerate things they shouldn’t.  Would they have turned a blind eye like people do today?  Yes, they would, at least sometimes.  The existence of law has never been a guarantee that people are going to obey it and that wrongdoers will always be punished.  And the Bible recognises that there is lawbreaking among leaders as well, and that they also act corruptly and irresponsibly.

Sometimes Bible teachers teach this kind of passage as if the existence of the laws meant they were always kept without question.  That is bad teaching and poor understanding because it is just not true.

If she isn’t married or engaged, and a similar situation is discovered, the man has to pay the woman’s father for the offence and marry her.  They say in rape a woman’s feelings are mixed. This might seem like a monstrous rationalisation, but I wonder if this is a provision to help her deal with these feelings?  For the man it is a punishment for the offence and maybe an opportunity for expiation.  Hmm.  There is no mention of what should happen if the situation is not discovered.  I suppose it assumes consent from the woman.  At least if it isn’t discovered no one can do anything about it.  So it’s probably just a practical observation.

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

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

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

I just watched some Bulgarian television.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Edit note 10.36 am Bulgarian time.

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

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

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

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

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

 

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