Tag Archive: organised stalking


Update 02.05.2014

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

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

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

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

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

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Bad Afternoon on Rowan 2

Jim has been on for the last two days.  I asked him if I could talk to him and it didn’t materialise either day.  When faced with situations which aren’t presented to him as talking he seems to have two modes with me – one is slightly crazy friendliness – tongue -poking, winking, etc, and the other is grabbing me by the arm and making me go wherever he wishes.  I think I have had another bruise left on my arm today.  I have quite a nice collection.  The one on my stomach remains the most pronounced, from being kicked.

This afternoon Re started on me, being rude, saying I had been kicked in last week and to shut my mouth.  I had forgotten that she had been there and wondered where she was getting it from.  Kiran came out from behind us at the noise and Re started to spin her a yarn and she said ‘I know, darling’.  Jim came out and told her she could go outside (it was my understanding that he asked/told her to move away, and she did.  But then she came back on the phone and I got upset and I thought he had asked her to move for my sake, so I started getting really wound up and they came out and told me if I didn’t calm down I would have to leave the ward.  They might have said I could.  I said something and Jim grabbed me angrily and started forcing me up the corridor.  I think Tracy was involved, Sean was definitely involved, and they grabbed me roughly, and I can’t remember what I was saying but they wouldn’t listen.  I know I said that when I was upset there was a reason, but that one minute they were nice and the next they were doing that to me.  I said they were the ones who were schizophrenic.  I hope there are people reading this who recognise the reason in what I said.

I wanted to go to the toilet, and I told them and they told me the toilet in the corridor was open.  It wasn’t.  I told them I had no money to go anywhere and they wouldn’t open the door.  I confronted Kiran with what she had said and she said she didn’t have to discuss it.  I said she had a duty to discuss something she had done which was an issue to me with my care.  I believe she has a personal duty if not a moral one.  When I got back later they were playing laughing, giggling hostesses.  I said if they wouldn’t discuss it with me then I will tell who I like how I like, and that I chose blogging.  While having dinner I was saying stuff about abuse and assaults and that in any other situation than a mental hospital or a prison I would be told that my first concern should be my own safety and that I should get out or get a restraining order against the perpetrators.  I seem to remember you can do that with the police these days, though I don’t know in what circumstances.

In the meantime I went outside and met the boyfriend of one of the other patients, and he let me literally cry on his shoulder.  I ended up going to the multi-faith room and Katya was there.  We had quite a stormy time.  I felt angry with her for what I felt to be her broad brush approach.  I can’t by any means remember everything we said.  We did a meditation at the end, and I wondered if in any circumstances a meditation with one person would permit them to cry and scream and come out the other side feeling washed, not repressed.  It said something about noticing the sensations in your body and not judging them, and at that point I asked if it would be OK to cry and scream.  I talked about repressing emotions being a way of judging them, because if you didn’t judge them you would just let them happen, even insist on them and your right to express them, as in other situations where social steps forward have taken place.

I went back for dinner and it was as I have said.  Katya had talked about fighting fire with fire and how it wasn’t good, and I said that was the staff, in their relationship with me.  I said I wanted to go out and asked for someone to open my door.  I demanded it, as far as I dared, rather than asked.  Tracy said she would come.  I said I was going to find out whether or not I had an obligation to go back on the ward since I had been forced off.  She wanted to talk reasonably, she said, but I told her I didn’t want to, that you can’t go from being unreasonable to reasonable whenever you felt like it.  I She said when I tried to find out if I had an obligation to go back on the ward to make sure that I told them I wasn’t the innocent party.  She just walked away, went into the clinic room and slammed the door locked behind her.

I talked to my ‘Old Wife’ who very kindly let me have a cup of tea on the house.  Both she and Katya said I should go to the Women’s Centre.  I phoned the police afterwards and asked them if I had an obligation to go back under the circumstances, and they told me there was no bar on me going back and I could go back when I liked.

But I have to go back to the same possibility of abuse and assault all the time.  In any other situation I could walk away and never go back, if I chose to deal with it that way, with impunity.  I’ve had verbal assaults and abuse from staff and patients, but the only physical assaults I’ve had really apart from last week were from staff.  My section is supposed to be coming to an end this week.  I don’t know what they are trying to do with that.  I really would feel safer on the streets.  At least I would have my benefits back, and be able to pay two lots of storage every 28 days without feeling it so much.

I can’t have special people on the staff, i can’t try to make friends of them, because the truth is that when I need them they are either not there for me or they lose it for some reason, regardless of former tongue poking and winking.  Jim did that because he felt like it.  He was really angry and he turned that into an assault he could rationalise professionally, to other people if not to himself.  Terry was on the ward.

Tracy acts as if she is the one who has a right to offendedly and pettishly disengage and not talk.  She walks away and leaves you in pieces behind her.  for me she leaves me wanting to get my own back.  I think the patient has a right to disengage from nurses or staff they don’t get on with, but these people are betraying relationships all over the place.  They overheated and dragged me and pushed me out, with no money and wanting to go to the toilet.  They left me crying on someone else.  When I turned round a nurse was watching me from inside, and walked away as soon as I turned round.

If you express concern for these people and their personal circumstances they take it for granted.  If you don’t who knows what they think, but you might feel less human, until met with a situation like this.  I feel very human in my hatred and distress at the moment, and my deep rage and anger, and hopelessness.  I said to Katya that I wanted to laugh but that there was nothing to laugh about, that it would be belittling it.  I said if they are going to call me mentally ill they should do something to make me feel better and give me hope, not give reasons for considering suicide.  I have something in my religious background that says that suicide is the ultimate act of manipulation, so I feel guilty saying that.  I feel I know better, but I can see no way out of this.   In ordinary situations of abuse and assault you are told that in no way is it your fault, but this is different, we are told.  ‘If you don’t we will have to’.  Like, ‘look what you made me do’, ‘I had no option’.

I listened to Blake 7 last night on Radio 4 Extra.  That was interesting.  It  could have been written about me.  It says rebellion is not a malfunction, but an imperative.  The woman says she hates the system and she doesn’t want to rejoin, that it has murdered her friends and robbed her of her identity.  This is just sci-fi, but it is more than that.  For me it is serious.

What is happening to me in the hospital is demeaning, degrading and dehumanising.  It isn’t about being friends with the staff.  I don’t want their so-called solutions.  I would happily be friends with some of these people, but they are unavailable for friendship, both ethically and by nature of what they do, professionally and not so professionally.  I’ve said it is like living in a gangland and that I would not choose to have such people in my life, and nor have I chosen to be there, but that there is no support or protection.  I don’t act like most of these people and don’t want to.  People have started calling on Norma around me.  I feel like the new Norma.  She said the other day that people should speak to her because she was not allowed to speak or to shout.  She is very quiet these days, i hardly hear her at all, and she used to be very voluble.

I am a victim.  I do not have a victim mentality.  I want to leave and repair my life.  I do not have a victim mentality.  Any more than any other abused group has had.  They have been made victims by other people.  They wave Section papers at you and use it as a cover for all kinds of abuse.

They don’t take Kerry off when she is being violent and abusive or behaving in ways people don’t like.  They let her get on with it.  One of the women who had a go at me last night then got nice had a go at me again today, and stuck her middle finger up at me as I was pushed off the ward.  Tonight she is not going to get such an easy reconciliation, if she wants one.  For me it is heartbreaking, because I didn’t do this to other patients when I first came on the ward, but people who didn’t know me then and how active I was in speaking out are doing it to me.  It seems obvious to me, though it might sound ludicrous, that the staff wanted to use me or silence me, while at the same time ‘treating me as though I am schizophrenic’.  It is obvious to me that they don’t like what is happening and the representations on TV and radio, but they don’t want to acknowledge any of it to say they were wrong about me.  It is hypocrisy and terrifying abuse.

Update 30.06.2013

Last night the light was turned on in my bedroom at about 2-3 am.  I was asleep and it woke me up and I was very upset and angry.  They told me they had to do it, I said they didn’t and it had only happened about 12 times in 17 years.  They told me to stop shouting.  I said at some point yesterday that if people in our position being treated as we are start shouting in anger and hysteria it should be understandable, but that when carers shout at us it is not acceptable and it is not our fault.  About a week or so ago Sh___n, the nurse who pushed the patient out of her way with her foot, started saying something I have had them say several times down the years, that if you give respect you get respect.  When they have said that they have been talking about patients who don’t get respect because they don’t give it.  I said that is OK among equals but that it is a playground rule, not OK for nurses and doctors and domestics to use against patients.  If we supposedly have mental health problems and are having things done to us we don’t want and being abused as well, we might find it hard to be respectful in our state of fear, anger and hysteria.  Yesterday morning K__h the domestic hammered on my door and presented herself in my room arms up and talking loudly.  I told her that when people hammer on my door it shocks me so much that I don’t answer them.  I asked her why she couldn’t knock quietly like Jim did when he knocked on my door.  She said she was sorry she couldn’t change the way she knocked, it was just her, and I said she could if she knew it was upsetting people.  She grabbed L___a who was passing and asked her to come in for support, and she stood in my room and she said my music was nice and they were having a smiley conversation with each other with Linda standing there exuding security guard and smiles.  I said they wanted me to change but didn’t want to change themselves.  I was also angry that they were in my space presuming to say that my music was nice and I didn’t like the fact that they were doing that.  A few weeks ago Sh___n knocked on my door and I was trying to insist on boundaries with her because she had offended me before.  She asked me something, I said no thanks or words to that effect, and she started commenting on my radio, after having been insistent on her own agenda towards me already.  She asked me where I had bought it from and I said I couldn’t remember and it was obvious I didn’t want to talk to her.  She asked if she could have a look and I said no, but she insisted on coming into my room anyway and touching my radio and ran out.  I tried to remonstrate with her but she blanked me and went to another room then told me she was with another patient.  To me it was about staff respecting my boundaries, as so many issues I have had here have been.  I just thought of the patients’ charter and looked it up as I have been meaning to for a while.  I looked at the section on respect and it said you should be asked whether you want to be called by your first or last name and should have your choice respected.  I was offered that choice once on a general ward, I’ve never been offered it on a psychiatric ward.  In London I fought unsuccessfully for years to have them call me Sue rather than Susan, and ended up really confused about myself and what I called myself, to the extent that I felt I had betrayed my parents by shortening the name they had given me.  I started to feel that Susan was the real me and Sue a false me and I felt superficial and artificial for having called myself Sue for so many years.  I felt ashamed for having decided to call myself Sue and sometimes I still do.  When I insist on it it sometimes feels as if my name is nothing to do with me and nothing I say about anything matters or is reliable.  I’ve often objected here to being called love, duck, darling, dear and sweetheart but no one takes any notice.  They say that is the way they are and they do it with everyone.  Sometimes they seem to be quite aggressive and purposeful in doing so.  There are two of us who sometimes object, that I know of.  When I was in London I fought for years just to be called Sue, not Susan.  I said once or twice I would like to be called Miss Barnett.  No one took any notice.  It’s about boundaries and presumption.  They all assume and presume so much, and for patients in my category that damages lives.  They make decisions with legal implications in my life.  And recently, as I have said, there has been deliberate dishonesty and maybe illegality.  In fact I would say there is a lot of illegality.  They wave section papers at us as if that gives them absolute power, but as well as the legal power of these papers is all the illegal abuse they get away with.  ‘You have to this, that and the other because you are on a section’.  Is that really true?  Do I really have to have my life subjected repeatedly to people who deliberately abuse and lie and misrepresent apart from the powers they have under the mental health act?  Not only that, but some of them seem just plain stupid and thick and insensitive.  Yet they say I have no insight.  They don’t like the insights I have.

Apart from the light being turned on last night (it was the night before as well) There were doors slamming through the night and a lot of shouting almost non-stop between 6 am and 9 am this morning, after which it went strangely silent for quite a long time.  I noticed that when my key nurse had been in charge of the night shift recently there had been no disruptions that I had been aware of for those three nights and we had all seemed to have a peaceful night.  There were no rude awakenings in the mornings either.

I remarked to someone last night that in just the same way that we don’t have to be available to everyone outside, we also don’t have to be available to everyone in hospital either, that healthy people choose who they are going to be available to.  Yet some of the nurses get rude, offended and giggly if you are not making yourself relationally available to them whenever you meet them.  It is disrespectful and not recognising my right to privacy and choice about the relationships I choose to engage with.  They won’t let me be an ordinary person, they are demanding from me all the time, some of them.  I went into dinner on Friday trying to think about and envision meetings I have planned with other staff next week, and rather than leave my head space alone they were smiling at me insistently and when I got annoyed the Eastern European girl who was on started running around and giggling and touching surfaces as I have seen so often since this mental health thing started for me.  They can’t leave me alone.  They won’t request a conversation but the keep grabbing at me and imposing on me psychologically.  It is the same for others as well, they have said so.  To me there is something wrong with that.

I was talking about doing my laundry last night with another patient.  There is a laundry service that your washing has to be sent to and you get it back in 2 or 3 days, but people have said that things go missing so I decided to get mine done at the launderette.  She asked me if it had been OK and I said yes, everything had come out that needed to, and a nurse passing by started uncomfortably.  If that had been one of us and we had said something we would have been told that no, the other person was just talking about washing and why did we think otherwise?  I noticed that all the staff were walking with security guard body language and suddenly ‘realised’ this was deliberate.  Inwardly I turned away from them and when one of them passed me I stayed turned away and not acknowledging her and her body language changed and she looked guilty.  On another occasion she had walked past me a few weeks ago and when she noticed me she looked as if she was going to smile and she literally wiped it off her face and ignored me, continuing with the same hard body language.  They swan and glide and make annoyed or blank faces.  They pitch their hardness against my softness.  It leaves me feeling like a confused and angry mess.

Last night one of the other patients said it was illegal for them to keep her there.  She is a Christian.  The nurse in charge, S___a, came quickly out of the clinic room and looked at her, afraid and uncomfortable.  I encountered my psychiatrist in the corridor during the week.  She rushed past me uncomfortably.  The SHO of another psychiatrist looked redfaced and upset.  I don’t know what is going on but it feels as if it has to be good, from my perspective.  Having said that, I had the meeting with the SHO last Monday and was told he was waiting for the psychologist’s report before a decision was made.  I would have expected on to be made by now, it has normally been a same day decision and action, but no one has told me anything, if there is anything to tell.  I feel as if they are withholding it from me deliberately to keep me on tenterhooks.

I know these things are happening, I still have problems settling on why and what my responsibility is with it.  A lot of the time I feel as if they are desperate and I am wrong and unmerciful.  I told my psychologist that last week.

Stage 2 Medication

Where I am we have stages in medication.  I have just been put onto stage 2, which means I have been given a strip of four bubble wraps, one for each medication time, and my medication is in the bubbles appropriate to me.  I take it away with me at the beginning of the day and I take it, or not, on my own terms.

This is the perfect opportunity for me to not take my psychiatric medication.  I thought about not taking it and took it anyway.  The other stuff I have is anti-inflammatory for pain and stiffness in my upper arms, anti acid to counteract the effects of that, and multivitamins and minerals and omega 3-6-9 oils (vegan, bang the drum and be clear.  Made by a company called Vertese and available at Holland and Barrett).

A Taste of Freedom

I went to the Pizza Express in King Street today.  I started off with dough balls with Chardonnay, which I didn’t like much at first (the Chardonay) but it grew on me.  I wasn’t going to have anything else but I ended up having a Fiorentina, spinach, cheese, black olives, egg.  Something snapped inside me.  I felt very drunk but I knew it was just a severe emotional problem.  I’m not mentally ill, I just have severe emotional problems.  Apart from anything else I am 14 months homeless now, coming up 15  months.

I feel emotionally wrecked.  I thoroughly enjoyed what I ate.  They say food is an emotional experience and it was for me.  It was great to have egg, and I sat there thinking I could just go vegetarian.

Maybe I have seen too much militant vegan stuff.  Freedom, real freedom, is the freedom not to harm.  I can’t cope anymore.  I have been vegan for over four years now and my experiences in Bulgaria didn’t break me.  Perhaps because I could get some really nice seitan there.  But homelessness in the UK began to break me ages ago with things as small as using the room milk and eating the biscuits in hotel rooms.  Also the tricks and judgmentalism of the vegan providers in the UK.  I feel completely spent.  I’m so tired, and I have to present every day for a drug caled aripiprazole.  I am experiencing tardive dyskenesia, facial muscle twitches.  Your face expresses what is going on in yor mind, and my mind’s normal working is being interfered with by this drug.  I’m in a house now and feeling suppressed and bullied.  I don’t feel as if I am allowed to sing, and they have complained about my music.  I feel as if the bad relationship is my fault.  Music and singing is part of my self-healing.  I feel completely desperate.  I really want to come off my section and off the drugs.  The best thing about this house is that I can cook for  myself.  But I had more freedom to play my music on Redwood 2 than I do here.  I’m writing stuff to Tommy Boyd which I have been taught to believe.  I do believe it.  It doesn’t make things feel better though.  I’m in love with him, or the idea of him, I swear.  The house is part of another in-patient ‘ward’.  I feel I owe him the best I can give him, and to value his best towards me.

Yesterday, Today . . . Forever???

Yesterday I had my managers’ hearing, and they decided to keep me on a section 3 and ignored everything I had to say, though they took a good long time over their decision.

Spoke to John Butterworth, Benefits etc adviser, today.  He was nice and friendly and reasonable and helpful.

At 5pm, dinner time, today, Annie came and said that Dr Malik wanted to talk to me about a Section 206.  Not knowing what it was, I was scared.  Turned out that it was to tide them over the period where the 2nd opinion doctor is overdue, so they can medicate me without my consent.  First he asked me if I would consent and I said no, that I was only taking oral medication because otherwise I would be really treated like just an animal, and that forcing medication onto non-consenting people was more akin to veterinary medicine than anything to do with humans.  He said they would use a Section 206 then, and I said that was his choice, which it is.  I hope one day before I die they will be brought to book for all this.

I didn’t get to open the reports for yesterday’s meeting until after it had happened, because I didn’t know what they were when I got them on my bed just before going in.  I am wondering why things seem to be going the same way as they went in London where I always got the papers an hour before the meeting, when for the tribunal I had here I got the papers in good time.

Pro Choice

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

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

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

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

Redwood 2, Highbury Hospital

I’m putting weight on so Dr Jaffer wants to change my medication.  In the meantime we had hotdogs for tea, or sausage, chips and beans, followed by pudding.

The woman who screams and shouts, reportedly because she is deaf, Chris, a male nurse into religious harassment and mind games, was talking to her at 10.15 onwards near my room, with me feeling as if I was being sprayed with acid.  He was doing it in the open regardless of my feelings or anyone else’s, when he could have left her in peace (and the rest of us), or encouraged her to go to her room with him, since it was obviously causing at least me distress.  She was as sulphuric as the woman who used to live over what was my temporary accommodation, but Dr Jaffer is insistent that it didn’t happen to me there at all, even though here it is all over again on the ward.  I was so upset I was shouting at them to stop, saying things like ‘steal my home then bring me into an environment which is an exact replica’.

I’ve got a manager’s meeting Wednesday 14th November.  I hope they will see their way to being more reasonable by then.  Dr Jaffer has not told me she has changed her mind about nothing really happening.  Chris calls himself a Christian.  He did a quiz which I only became a part of because I happened to see it in passing.  In it he talked about pride, and baby animals, the sphinx.  He said it was compiled by the staff.  I tried a few times recently to say hello to him but he turned away so his gaze was somewhere else, before saying hello.  At the time I thought it was like trying to train a dog.  He calls people in my hearing like ‘yip, yip’, here girl style.

Housing has said that it might be down to the therapeutic decision as to whether or not I can be allocated a home.  There is little, in my opinion, which is therapeutic about this place.  Occupational therapy is supposed to be therapeutic, but I find it controlling and judgmental.  I don’t know what their stance is at the moment but I need it to be something better than keeping me homeless in hospital while I have to keep paying about £160 a month for storage.

All Over the Place

I’m all over the place today. and was yesterday as well.  Should I go to church, or contact the media, or make contact again with my uncle?  Last time I went to him he turned me away.  So has everyone else though, at different times.

Who is the least to blame for their hacking of my computer and telephone?  Who can I least condemn for that and justify the most?

Life on the ward is violent and angry.  It runs completely counter to my life choice.  I was on a section 3 until I finally moved all my stuff out of my temporary accommodation on the Friday, then my section was rescinded on the following Monday, so technically I could leave, but I now had no home.  After a period off my section but feeling really distressed by the violently broken nights, when I tried to discharge myself they didn’t seem to know, between them, what they were doing, but they put me back on a section 3.

This place, patients and staff alike, are hurting me. Being here is making me very unhappy and repressed.  I know this place is bad for me, but they are telling me I need to be here.  I know I don’t and that it isn’t good for me to be here.    It isn’t good for anyone.  The kind of relationships that exist in a place like this, doing what they do, can only be diseased.  I can’t even discharge myself at the moment into the ‘really bad’ hostels they say exist here.  At least if I could do that I would be taking responsibility for my own life.  It might be easier if housing seemed to be doing something, like offering me accommodation.  I can’t remember the date I was interviewed, but it is over a month ago, maybe 2.  Even if I am offered accommodation I assume that the lifting of my section 3 won’t automatically coincide with that.

I keep coming out of my room to see staff members immediately change the expressions on their faces, when they see me.  There is something wrong with this and I am frightened.

Convulsed

My medication has been increased from something I was comfortable with to an amount which makes my limbs go haywire and I have minor convulsions every night.  I have mentioned this to the staff and they said they might think about changing my medication.  I was on 10 mg of olanzapine and it has been increased to 15.  I am taking procyclidine with it but it is making no difference. I wake several times a night, both too hot and angry, my arms and legs flailing and rigidity in my back.  I think that is my fault, that it is happening because I am not handling myself properly and that I need to take myself into deep relaxation and acceptance of the medication to let it work properly when I flail and get the convulsive feelings.  That is when I am not thinking that this medication and everything else I am not being protected from in here are a very brutal way to access my emotions.

Gawdon Bennett . . .

WE ARE THE POWERLESS!!!!!!!

If people who are afraid in circumstances from which they cannot extricate themselves because the authorities won’t let them (ie authorities are irresponsible in their positions) get angry and start slamming doors, while it is uncomfortable for the rest of us, that doesn’t mean they are mentally ill. If they are afraid to speak about what is happening or about what they are feeling, for fear it will make things worse for them in terms of deepening their diagnosis, the professionals need to be the first ones to come out explicitly and say they have the same awareness of things happening outside of our control.

I can remember when it first started happening to me.  I would shout and scream and hit my door with my umbrella because in my fear and anger I felt I had no other outlet.

It needs to be explicit, otherwise if people are not willing to respond in an attempt at psychodrama they can be left with an added burden of guilt feelings towards the initiator.  As much as we might like them, that isn’t fair.  It is engaging our emotions in what, for us, is a non-consenting situation which is not required by law because we are children to be taught or prisoners to be punished or rehabilitated.

Tattle-Tale Post Review

Saw Dr Jaffur and Dr Fahy today with Alison Harrison, the ward manager.  Dr Jaffur was the only one of the three who spoke.

Dr Jaffur asked me a few questions about how I was feeling.  She asked about medication.  She asked about the ‘feelings’ I was having. of being harassed, etc.  I asked her to tell me if she was acknowledging that it was not all just in my mind and she said she was not acknowledging that, she thought they were just feelings, after I had told her about the times men have drawn level with me and cleared their throats straight into my ear as they pass.  Like the people in London who used to draw level and scream in my ear as they passed.  I heard someone talking about it on the radio, acknowledging it as a phenomenon, however much it is magnified or not magnified by my sensitivity and upset about it.

I got up, refusing to continue the review.  I held my finger up and said she had a vested interest in the situation and in not acknowledging the outer reality of what I was saying.

I came out really upset and angry.  I was saying that she was stupid or dishonest, that she was insisting that my whole life experience as I recount it is just feelings born of my mind.  I was saying she had no right to say that, just because in her judgment I am mentally ill, real things like harassment don’t happen to me.  I was saying I understood my life better than she did because I had a background in real therapy.  I said ‘oh, she must have a gift in clairvoyance, then, which is more than I have’.  I meant distance viewing but couldn’t remember the term.  I don’t have any of those gifts.

Tommy Boyd once said that his dog once ate his shit.  I thought he was talking about me swallowing an act. Whether he was or not, I have swallowed this, whether he meant it or not: he said something about God and not believing in Him, but rather being alone and acting and deciding alone.  This is something I have come to value, even though I believe in God.  It is, of course, the existentialist position.  Certainly you can’t go to the Bible and apply it to your situation when it involves people in power who do not share your position.  Christians differ with Christians.  You have to think with the material and spoken facts and limit yourself to those, in some situations.  I love Tommy Boyd.  I don’t know if he could love me.

I felt, rather, looking back, that it was Dr Jaffur who was putting herself in a position of deep denial, medical book guided fantasy, spinning something from her training which is not true of my life and has no connection with it of my choosing.

We all know about hate crime, including hate crimes against disabled people.  In our dining room we even have literature on the wall which says that this trust doews not tolerate disablism.  I think that is what the doctors and nurses here are engaging in every time they relate a concern you express back to mental illness.  They don’t want to know about reality.  Especially when they themselves abuse their positions and don’t recognise proper boundaries.  They seem to reason that we are ill therefore they can be lazy, or act as if they are in a disfunctional intimate relationship as the abusive, ridiculing, begrudging, demanding and superior partner.

Linda the nurse came in and told me to calm down as there were ladies who wanted to get their lunch.  I said i wasn’t saying anything they wouldn’t say themselves and that they were on my side.  I asked another patient what she thought and she said she didn’t know what to say.  Linda told me it wasn’t fair to involve the other patients, even though she was the one who had first invoked them on her side.  I think Errol, who was serving lunch,was coming in every time I stopped speaking.  Maybe that was why I didn’t feel able to stop.  I asked the person serving with him for a plastic white spoon to take out with me, and his body language seemed to me to indicate that he was unhappy with my use of the word ‘white’, though for me it was natural and just a description of the spoon, to create a focus on what I was asking for.  He has involved me in accusations of racism in the past, and has taken his own actions towards me and made out that it is me harassing him rather than the other way round.

Linda left as I was still speaking and I mentioned the night before the 40th anniversary of my father’s death and how she had not defended me against a patient who had hatefully and angrily said that everyone had problems and she didn’t want to know mine.  I said Linda had no rights towards me at all.

We all know about hate crime.  Dr Jaffur is not willing to acknowledge any possibility that I may be subject to it in any circumstances.  I wonder what she thinks of the very publicised case a few years ago where a mother in Leicester took her own and her disabled daughter’s lives after years of harassment they had not received adequate help and attention for from the police, who I think publicly apologised for this and said they would try harder in the future.  Short of corruption and self-protection, why is it not possible, in her mind, and the minds of other staff, that I am actually experiencing the harassment I say I am?  I don’t have bruises to show for most of it, and they made a mental health assessment justification out of the bruises they did see when I was advised to go to Queen’s Medical Centre and have it looked at.

Are they so scared of the consequences of this kind of abuse towards me that, for some reason, even though it has been recognised for others, they are unwilling to recognise for me that I am in a situation of ongoing harassment and intimidation unless it gets stopped?  That is the only reason that makes any sense for this willful presentation of themselves as blind to the possibility that I am paranoid because I am being harassed.

Started chapter 2 and realised it is not one story but several, a collection of short stories.  Very sad.  I am not sure, I do not think, that I would have been mature enough to read them at the time I was supposed to, in my first years at grammar school, but there is no way I can tell now.  I hardly went to school in those depressed years following my father’s death.

Depressed and angry years they were, too.  I used to stay at home reading Christian paperbacks, mostly, trying to work out how to belong.  I wanted to join Teen Challenge and work woith drug addicts.  An irony occurs to me here.  I’ve spent most of my life wanting to be up to and fit for the job and it feels as if – you pick it up, and develop yourself in the job, as you practise and go along.  I am looking down my nose at jobs I used to want to do – social worker, drug addiction outreach, etc.  What would I have become if I had got into those jobs earlier instead of thinking that office stuff was all I was fit for?  I didn’t know about gaining experience through voluntary work which would count as experience, and I seem to remember they all wanted qualifications anyway, specific to the role.  So you had to be a qualified social worker to be a residential care worker.  I’m not sure what my position would be now, especially having developed a disdain for the way psychiatry has worked in my life.

Still have nurses vocally tagging me and slipping in linguistic mickey finns.  Latest went “she-she-she-schitz”.  I can’t see that the question ‘why’ really matters.  When I think I should be justifying it I am thinking that it is a way of getting to my heart to develop trust.  The church uses parables.  So after my initial resistance I find myself wanting to justify them and thinking of myself as ungrateful and arrogant.  I am very tired at the moment.

I have just had my block leave increased from 3 hours to 5 hours, and the 3 half hours for local stuff stopped, so effectively I have half an hour longer than I had before, but the longest I can stay out at any one time has increased from 3 hours to 5.

Dr Fahy and I had a set to this morning.  I ended up arguing that she must think that the flash mobs and the harassment and violence were part of my mental illness, that that was what she was saying, but that I disagreed and that she could no more appreciate everything that I knew gave significance to what I was saying than she could unpick the Bayeux Tapestry and appreciate that.  She said that she believed it was part of my experience and I walked out because I thought she was saying I believed it was part of my experience but was all in my head.  That is what that response has come to mean to me over the years.  She might have meant she knew it was real.  If that is the case we are not communicating well with each other.

I don’t mind being tired as long as I am allowed to rest during that time.  I believe that is what I need, and the reason I have not wanted to stay on the ward is that it is just the same as what was happening at home, the shouting, the violence, except there is little here I can do to alleviate it short of go out.

Today in Redwood 2 – Pre-Review

I have just explained part of my situation as I understand it to one of the other patients.  She has confirmed that she has been aware of things on the television reflecting us and that it has only been during this admission and had never happened to her before.  I told her I had had it for 16 years.

I’m writing this in Word at the moment, before I go out.  It is easier as it gives me a degree of privacy I can’t get outside.  I find myself wishing I had done this before, because I am feeling as if my head is beginning to calm down and I am becoming less afraid and disturbed by noises outside my room. I suppose the reason I haven’t is because of the way I was approached before by Alison, the ward manager, when she expressed concern over ‘what I was using my laptop for’.  I have been afraid I might have it taken away.

What has happened today?  To start with they told me that my review would be on Friday and not tomorrow, as I had been told by Dr Fahy’s new SHO last Friday that it would take place this Friday and that medication was definitely going to happen following the review.  That was how I understood it.  Today they told me the review would be on Friday but that medication was written up to start tomorrow, Wednesday.  I had thought it was good news that the review was going to be on Friday because as I understood it, medication was going to start again then, when I had had a chance to re-present the reasons for rescinding the section.  Before I have always assumed that waiting for the tribunal was all I could do, but this time has been different.  Because the section 3 I was under for a few weeks from May was rescinded before tribunal I realised that I could argue for it to be rescinded from day one and that waiting for the tribunal is not my only hope.

When they told me that the review would be on Friday but that medication was going to start again tomorrow I felt really upset and I said ‘this is an assault.  If the worst comes to the worst I’m going to phone a radio station’.  Anyway, later they said the staff team had talked about it and that they were going to recommend that medication be delayed until after the review, but that it was Dr Jaffur’s decision (I’m not sure of the spelling).  I was told that Dr Jaffur was away today and might be away tomorrow as well.  I spoke to my advocate who told me that she had phoned the ward last week and been told I was not on the unit, whereas the truth was that I had no leave, except Section 17 worded that I had no leave except for medical emergencies, which I have never received before.  That isn’t leave.  An emergency has to receive attention by law.  At that point I had already not eaten all weekend except for one sandwich and a few bite size shreddies.  During the weekend they decided they wanted to take any food I had out of my room, I suppose to put pressure on me to come out of my room.  But the fact was that at the time they wanted to do that I had no food.  They didn’t take great pains to find out why I wasn’t coming out for food (they knew about harassment and stuff which they keep insisting isn’t happening and that they have seen no evidence of).  The point is, I had no leave at all last week and never left the ward, but my advocate was told I was not on the unit when she phoned.  At that point the Section 3 was back in place and seeing her would have helped me.  That was probably the day she phoned to say she wouldn’t be available for the scheduled review on the Friday and left a message for me which was not passed on.

Anyway, later today they put the review which they had told me was going to happen on Friday back to tomorrow, after telling both me and my advocate that it was going to happen on Friday at a time I can’t remember now.  I found this out when my advocate phoned me on my mobile and left a message for me to this effect saying that I knew and had agreed to it.  I think this must have come from Dr Fahy’s new SHO who came to my room to engage me in a conversation about times, when I had just realised that I was being kept spinning and not allowed to stop as people kept coming wanting to discuss one piece of conflicting information after another.  I told her that I thought that was what my key nurse was for, to pass on the decision rather than different people keep coming to me with conflicting information and trying to get me involved with the conversations.  I have found it exhausting, and this is not the first time it has happened.  She did not tell me this had been a definite change and I heard it from my advocate who said she had been told I had agreed to it.  They told me Dr Jaffur was not going to be available on Friday.

I refused medication as soon as it was offered to me the first time Monday last week, on the grounds that this trust, according to its literature, does not tolerate fear and intimidation, and that this was the effect of what they wanted to do to me.  They told me it could be enforced but I argued calmly and assertively that although it could be, it didn’t have to be.  Eventually they accepted that and my nurse told me that it would be discussed again at review.  I had been told in London that you can refuse until the next review so I was fairly confident.  I had tried to say that to them before though and they had pushed it through anyway, not acknowledging the validity of what I was saying.  I suppose all the manoeuvring and manipulation today has been because that is the legal position and because I said it would be an assault to go ahead with medication before review and that if the worst came to the worst I would call a radio station.  But how many other people do not win this fight?  Every time I show signs of relaxed and healthy communication people start getting uncomfortable or looking cross or disapproving.  I am really feeling bullied and have been for ages.  Every time I speak the nurses copy what they hear.  I said that to the other patient I have mentioned and she said she had noticed it happening to me.  It is either the smile offensive or the snoot offensive and every time I open my mouth they push me and keep pushing me for a bit more, or talk over me, sometimes deliberately scrambling their own speech and being completely provocative and outrageous.

Someone on Radio 4 today mentioned ‘ad hominems’, a personal attack in an argument, and I thought about that in the context of all the times people have talked about illness and medication every time I have felt strong and hopeful in communication.  Yesterday Alison told me she had seen no evidence of harassment and she said she thinks I misinterpret things a lot.  I thought afterwards that that would be like someone who didn’t speak a language telling someone who did that they were getting it wrong.  She doesn’t see all the links that I see because she is not me and doesn’t have complete access to everything in my mind and memory that makes it understandable to me.  I told the other patient about it today because she came out of her review angry and I realised how powerless she must be feeling so I decided she was entitled to know that she wasn’t mistaken about the things she was seeing.

I can’t remember if I said in my last post that I have submitted the same complaint 3 times via the email address given on the website for the hospital and that it was supposed to have been answered within 3 days.  Today, 13 days later, Alison has received it and offered me an ‘opportunity’ to talk about it.  At the time I was flustered and wanted to use my leave and said so, saying it was now 13 days on and this was now my time and I wanted to take it, but also that the hospital has already broken its side of the agreement and that I believed the way forward now was to talk to my advocate about it. This is something her approach to me did not acknowledge.  It feels almost as if all this stuff is now being presented to me thinking they can get me to co-operate in the hope that my section will be rescinded and medication become a non-issue.  It’s a complaint about the night when staff came into my room and turned the light on at 4.30 in the morning and continued to be unruly and I reacted in anger and desperation because of that and previous broken nights through angry door slamming that I had said would make me ill if it didn’t stop, and rather than leave me alone when I said I just wanted to be left alone to sleep they kept going, one of them with her foot in the door, and escalated it to the point that, even though I was informal, they had me medicated.  The next morning the same team turned the light on at 3 am, no explanations, apologies or anything.  The first time, even though I eventually said please and was beside myself with desperation because they wouldn’t just go and let me sleep, they kept going.  Then Alison yesterday was talking about me needing to deal with this thing with Errol, who was involved in that, and it is like telling someone they need to make peace with a person in authority over them who has raped them.  They seem to be contriving to make me feel emotionally and relationally obligated here.

On the night before I tried to discharge myself I stayed out rather than go back and sleep on the ward because I thought if I slept there I might weaken and decide not to discharge myself.  I decided I was in a stronger position because Shelter’s solicitors had told me that I could not make myself intentionally homeless from a hospital.  I spent the night in a hotel room and the next morning I turned on BBC news to see all this stuff about the Home Office wanting to take away the embassy status of the building where Julian Assange has taken refuge, so they could arrest him.  This kind of coincidence has happened to me before, and as I said in my last post, when I went back and they wouldn’t let me go, in spite of having told me after the first interview that I could go and then changing their minds, police helicopters were flying over the building.  Last night I thought that the only thing that made sense to me was that the authorities thought I had absconded (I didn’t know I could do such a thing as an informal patient, but the police were looking for me, I discovered when I was able to use my phone again to get the messages – the battery had run out because of a long conversation with Shelter’s solicitor and I didn’t have the charger, that all has to happen in the office) and that the right way to deal with it was to arrest Julian Assange.  I thought they must have thought that I was going to go back to Occupy or to the Ecuadorian Embassy, whereas actually my first intention was to go back to Housing Aid and get myself rehoused.  But when I saw that on the news I wanted to go to London.  I felt helped by the timing of the first set of leaks that came from Wikileaks.  I have written elsewhere on this blog about Julian Assange and what I thought about things being reported around him, for what that writing was worth, and I feel it can’t have been much because everything I said must have been obvious to any good lawyer, and they also would have known about loopholes and things I couldn’t possibly know about.  I think most things I write are a bit silly at best and that I shouldn’t think too much of myself because of them.  But if I am right in my interpretation of this situation I don’t understand why it can have ben seen as so important that they wanted to take away the embassy status of the building so they could arrest Julian Assange.

They have been saying that they have to extradite him to Sweden to answer charges there, completely failing to acknowledge the truth that he had always co-operated with them freely so talking about extradition in his case is cause for him to be concerned for his safety.  He has always co-operated with the inquiry and the process.  Maybe they want us to forget that so they can call him, as I heard someone say on the radio recently, a stupid, self-regarding idiot, or something like that.  I think it is likely that that description might be more accurately applied to me.  By the way, there is a place in Ecuador called Quito, it has been in Radio 4 news this week.  I thought it was the capital but a member of staff said it isn’t. But I used to live in Kitto Road, at my last London address.  I feel as if I am being wretchedly ungrateful for all the protection which is being offered and exercised towards me by all my various stalkers and hackers, state and otherwise.

My advocate asked me about 2nd opinion doctors and I told her that the doctor involved in the final assessment for a Section 3 hadn’t asked anything situation-specific and had wanted to know my life story, which  thought was not good enough.  She agreed with me, that he was not there to get my life story.  Also he kept smiling at me as if he understood what I was talking about, so eventually I asked him if he understood and he said no, and when I said that he was smilingas if he did, he said he was smiling to encourage me.  I am wondering how many other such situations have been similarly misunderstood.

They keep talking as if I am going to be at the hospital a long time and keep saying they will see me next time they are on, which in my key nurse’s case is a week and a half.  It is exhausting me.

There is a right to silence.  There is also a right to not recognise any relational responsibility when those who are trying to make you feel it are in power over you in a way which allows them to impose themselves on you physically against your will if you defer to them and allow them to go unchallenged.

In the first place they asked me what I would do if I wasn’t sectioned and said my answer might affect their decision.  I told them to make their decision and then I would make mine, at the assessment.  But last week in the review I didn’t attend because the advocate I had been expecting wasn’t there I felt completely happy and relaxed and in my right mind when I asked the review nurse to tell them I would stay until I was rehoused if they wanted me to but that I wanted to come off my section and I didn’t want medication, but they were not interested in that and took the control back and left me feeling insecure and unhappy again.

I know that, because I know something of what I am going to write, and people’s reasons will vary.  Personally, when this is posted, I will want to throw up, because I don’t think a decent person would post something like this.

I wrote to someone yesterday and asked for help, saying my alternative was to blog it, because the details are sensitive and involve other people and their tragedies, which have already been in the national news headlines.  I am going to be coupling this with my own plight as someone who has been mentioning this kind of thing to my psychiatrists for years and been told it is probably a coincidence.

I keep hearing murders reported on the national radio news (I don’t watch much tv at the moment and if I did I might find even more cause for concern in the images) which have salient details in common with my life, past and present.  Here are three from the last 2 months.  I have been aware of others which I haven’t latched onto in the same way, but now every time a newreader’s tone becomes serious I listen for the details and am sometimes astounded that it has nothing that I can hear to connect it to me.  Very often it has something I can identify as a part of my life.

1.  The hostages killed over a month ago, Franco and Chris.  My name is Sue, I am a Christian.  Chris is often used in this way.  My uncle’s name is Frank.  They were captured on 12 May 2011, my uncle Frank’s birthday, and slaughtered as I thought I was embarking on a new lifestyle temporarily in Wales.  This kind of coincidence has happened before.

2. Dunford and Julie Davison, one new story.  The first vicar I can remember in Bestwood, Nottingham, where I was born, is/was called Dunford.  The girl across the corridor from me in my hall of residence, who is also 50 now, like Julie Davison, is/was called Julie Davie.  Two people connected with my personal life, linked in the same murder news item.  I reported this one to the area police responsible, over the phone, and said I had had a lot of these coincidences in the past.  The next day someone had been arrested, but I have heard nothing myself in response to my call.  I am wondering if they have decided I am an unreliable witness because I have a mental health diagnosis of schizophrenia, based in the first place on my insistence that this was happening.  Patients on a ward are not regarded as reliable witnesses for each other either and their versions of events are not called for.  This is written in the procedural literature.

3.  The latest thing is the Philpot fire in Derbyshire, which has taken the lives of 6 children, all the children the mother had.  I can’t imagine the devastation this poor woman must be feeling.  The last I heard the police were treating it as arson.  Our next door neighbour when I was a child in Nottingham was called Mrs Philpot.

All 3 of these facts are checkable by asking members of my family who have not, to my knowledge, been certified.   So why haven’t I turned to them to back me up?  Good question.  What about someone who does not have family to back them up in this kind of assertion?  Am I just attention seeking?  I am uncomfortable with that question and its possible answers.

I started listening to Osho teaching on Napster a few years ago.  Shortly after that there was a bombing close to an Osho ashram.  There is much more I can’t remember at the moment.  Some of it might be in this blog already.

My psychiatrists have been saying it is a coincidence.  I am not sure how these families would feel about that.  They are saying it is a coincidence and that I have a delusional disorder.  They have been/are considering treating me under section 3 of the mental health act.  While I was telling them what was happening they were making ‘mumpy’ questioning faces at me, as if I was a child who understood nothing.

I can’t see the responsibility or the morality of making such an assessment and decision about such dense coincidences often repeated, when treating them as serious and me as reliable based on facts which have nothing to do with the creation of my brain might lead to the uncovering of terrorist and murderous gangs.  Apart from the fact that a hospital bed costs the country £700 a night, surely there must be a responsibility to take something like this seriously and investigate it properly, both for my sake and the sakes of those who are losing their lives, and to make it stop.

A few practical details which are trivial in comparison, but also relevant.  I am a vegan.  Meal times are made a battle, and were before I was a vegan, but now I am not getting adequate provision and am having to supplement what I eat with my own purchases.  There is nowhere near enough protein in what I am given to eat.  Twice I have been given a tortilla wrap with salad vegetables, yesterday I was given a carton of rice dotted with peppers and sweetcorn.  These are my concerns which do not seem to have registered.  Someone catering for a hospital should know how to cater for all diets.  You can’t chose a niche hospital as you can a restaurant, and if you are there against your wishes it adds to the distress not to have adequate nutrition and to be intensely aware of that fact.

Nurses are playing mind games with me, and so are cleaning staff.  Fixed smiles, chattering into my relaxed speech with someone else, one nurse, an MA in Art, said that until recently he thought that Malaysia was the disease and malaria was the country.  I thought he was joking but he insisted he wasn’t.  He has an MA in art so it is possible that it is true and that I should give him the benefit of the doubt.  But it doesn’t seem likely . . . .

Nurses keep saying hello and are you ok and that is as far as it goes.  Big smiles, sometimes I feel seething, but that is hard for me to say and be taken seriously.  But I feel, yes, and?  Get to the point or leave me alone.  I experience it as harassment.  People insisting that you engage in conversation in a place where you are held against your wishes and not as a criminal, and never coming to the point of what they want to say or ask, if anything.  Outside I would not have to engage in conversation with anyone I didn’t want to talk to.  Rights are presented as gifts in what might be perceived as a good conversation about something else.  I have been told I could see a dietician but it hasn’t been taken any further, and often when I have knocked on the office door they haven’t even looked up to acknowledge my presence.  I think a lot of patients get this.

The other day I was talking in the dining room about what I thought about the system and wishing people who said they hadn’t wanted the job for what they were being required to do would have the courage of their convictions and find something else, because if they don’t like doing it, they should put themselves in our place and consider how much less we like having it done to us.  My psychiatrist yesterday said that my letter to Nottingham City Homes had been full of self reference, which she says is a symptom of delusion.  I pointed out that I had had no written acknowledgment of the letters I had sent them, and she drew back a little at this.  But by self-reference she meant that I thought the violent harassment from upstairs was being aimed at me and that I was being followed and targeted in my flat, where I know we could hear each other much too well for privacy.  So it wasn’t self-referential, it was referring to behaviour which I believe was being aimed at me as harassment by others who had me in their minds.  Even if I was wrong about that it hardly matters, because the behaviour, whether aimed at me or not, was intolerable and not something I should have been expected to live with.  If I wasn’t thinking straight it is hardly surprising and it should have been dealt with as unacceptable behaviour whether it was considered targeted or not.   I was self referential in that I talked about my confusion about how I should be handling it, but to me that is a sign of honest, responsible communication, not delusion.  It worries me that people who can seize responsibility and power over me in this way can have a problem with that.  I was asking for help to process it.  I can’t see how that is delusional behaviour.  It isn’t.  I don’t think anyone I’ve learned anything from that I value would see it that way.

I’m running out of time and can’t continue much longer, though there are other points I want to highlight.

I want writing to be a pleasure and a development.  But sometimes it has to be work.  Sometimes you have to document and not just create.  I have realised I have to be something in my writing which I have never seen as a necessity, since I have not been in this position since years before I started my blog.  If I am to survive, and if I am to be honest and responsible and fulfil what I believe to be my obligations, I have to start writing like a campaigner and an activist.  I have to see myself as that in a way I haven’t before.

The fact that I have written this is not saying that I don’t trust the person that I wrote to yesterday.  It is my situation and I can’t keep asking other people for help.  I have to own it myself, and if I or others are going to say that what I have written is indecent, I have to own that also.  This is my necessary task.  Let those who will, help me.

 

11.41 am.  I’m blogging after more police harassment at Starbucks, 99 St Martins Lane, WC2.  I want to laugh now.  I think I bring it on myself by not responding to their attitude and insistence on getting the last word with a sense of humour.  I think it shows I am not a good citizen, not having a sense of humour when they behave this way.  I’m not sure how they would react if  I were to laugh instead of outdo them and get upset and tell them they have no right to do what they are doing, etc.  I might feel better myself, if I could approach it with a sense of humour.  I feel I should say I am sorry for not respecting them in their job, and just laugh, then it would all be behind me and the world would be all right again.  That if I had done that years before I might not now be a 51 year old menopausal woman having to come to terms with the fact that I have not had children.

After 4 nights without a bed and people keep coming at me psychologically and leaving me feeling assaulted, I committed the crime of falling asleep after a cup of tea and a bag of nuts, which is all I can eat in Starbucks.  A little while before the police came I heard someone banging things around me, and that was obviously their idea of trying to wake me up.  I don’t respond to that kind of thing, though.  Also I find it hard to stay awake at the moment anyway, being aware, as I am, of the kind of psychological harassment I am getting from sales and security staff, let alone ‘ordinary’ people in the street.

The police woman, CW 2598 or 3598, with subsequent things from them after I got her number ‘m not sure if I have remembered it right, came in and told me I couldn’t just sleep there.  That it was coming up to lunch time and I couldn’t just occupy a seat without buying anything.  I said I had had a cup of tea there and I buy quite a lot of stuff and no one had tried to wake me.  She said they had.  I suggested I could go to the toilet and get another cup of coffee, then, as they do, she turned control of the conversation back round to herself by asking me what my plans were after I had just told her, and when I told her again she said OK and just stood there.  I asked her if they were going to stay there while I bought the coffee and she said yes, that they wouldn’t be doing their job otherwise.  So I was expected to buy a cup of coffee, hand over my money to these people, under police watch.  I snapped out of my drowsiness and said I would rather write to the company and complain about harassment, but that I was going to the toilet first.

I went in, used the toilet, brushed my hair and brushed my teeth.  Before I was finished the male officer (there were 3, 1 man and 2 women) knocked on the door and asked me if I was going to be long.  I said no.  When I came out they were all sitting there waiting for me.

I passed them and went up to the cafe staff and told them they hadn’t spoken to me or tried to wake me before calling the police.  She was acting as if she didn’t understand what I was saying, and said they had tried to wake me.  I said I was prepared to buy another cup of coffee, if they asked the police to leave first, that I was not prepared to do it under police watch.  Someone said something and I said I had the right to buy another cup of coffee.  One of the officers said the staff there also had the right to ask me to leave if they wanted to, so I asked them if they wanted me to leave rather than buy another cup of coffee, and they said they wanted me to leave.  The police then took control as I tried to walk past them freely and dsimiss the situation and walk away with some dignity, the woman whose number I have mentioned kept ‘backchatting’ me, so I went up to her to look at the number on her lapel.  I couldn’t see the letters, they were hidden, and she didn’t offer the letters, so I moved the strap, and then she began to get defensive and angry, saying I couldn’t just touch her strap to get her number (why not, after everything they do to me?  This isn’t just about doing a good job, is it?)  So we had a small argument and in the end I told her to stop the sass and the attitude and began to walk away, and as I did she kept it coming.  The male officer started making mocking gestures at me.  He kept it up for about 5 minutes.  I stopped in the street and said that I was not now acting illegally, just standing by a lamp post, and they stood there with me. They did not want to leave me in peace or in control, or acknowledge my rights with any semblance of real recognition or sympathy.

They crossed the road, still making gestures, and I shouted after them, saying they were supposed to defend the weak, not harass them, that they were supposed to be a service to the whole community, not just the money makers, I said they despised us and we despised them (where are all the people who hate the police when I am the one getting harassed?).  I said they were hand in glove with the money makers and the mafia, at which point the male officer making gestures looked as if he was about to come back over, but stopped.  I thought he looked angry.  I believe I spoke the truth.  He went back to the gestures, with a couple of men standing between us and just looking in my direction smiling and finding it ammusing, even though I was obviously distressed, and I shouted at him that he was not supposed to be standing there mocking me with his gestures and that he would have gone to a Victorian insane asylum and mocked people there, as was the sport in those days of a Sunday afternoon.  That is the way it was opresented to me, anyway.  Maybe it wasn’t just the Sunday sport.  Maybe they could do it any time.

People talk about putting the mockers on people.  The Bible says that God will mock, and that he who sits in the heavens will laugh.  I have often wondered down the years if this mockery from people in authority that I have been taught to respect and trust is actually a legitimate part of their approach to people in some circumstances, and thought that my problem with it shows I have a problem with and a bad attitude towards authority.  That my heart is wrong and my dispositon is wrong and that I am rebellious and ‘a bad lot’.  I have thought on many occasions that they would have turned and done everything they could to help me, if only my attitude had been right.  I feel that, over the years, I have, in pride and arrogance, rejected my own redemption from all these wondeful people in society that have said they want to help and that I have accused of harassment and stalking.  How arrogant and selfish of me.  That these people, who are also suffering with me and trying to reach out to me for themselves, for me and for others being caught up in my situation, should have arrogant, proud, independent, ignorant, selfish, power-loving little me shake my naughty fist at them and say ‘no, it is stalking and harassment, you have no right and unless you come to me with the words of your concerns openly I will not respond to you’.

I’ve offended my leaders, i’ve lost Tommy, so it feels.  I want to see his face loving me, and can’t see how he could be anything but ashamed and disgusted with me, as well as hurt for himself.

i burn with shame.  I think I have played an unforgivable and selfish game, and that the consequences I am now suffering in final loneliness and childlessness are my own fault.  I think I am on the scrap heap where my leaders said the disobedient end up.  Yesterday I felt the problem was me and always had been, and had never been anyone else’s.  To some extent and in some respects that has to be the truth.  They used to say that you can’t just think of yourself as being as good as everyone else.  But that was what I did in my teens.  I used to think, look, I  can speak in tongues just like you.  I used to sing the songs and as I was singing them think this isn’t the way it is for me, but I never voiced that to anyone.  Except I think I did to Diane.  I can’t shift this self blame, and no one can help me to.

 

Police Stop And Search Slashed

The Evening Standard, Thursday 20th January 2012.

There it was, sitting on the front page of the Evening Standard, and I wanted to read it and knew I had to pick one up.  It is a free paper these days, so that was not a problem to me, even with under £20 guaranteed me to live on for the next 7 days.

I noticed several people within a minute doing the same thing, and smiles on faces.  Quiet smiles, but undeniable happiness and joy, nevertheless.  A tangible relaxation and relief.

“Police Stop and Search Slashed”, it said.

I couldn’t understand why everyone was not shouting on the streets with joy.

That is the power of a headline for you.  The keyword was ‘slashed’.  It didn’t say ‘ended’.  It was about an hour later, after making a happy fool of myself and parading my newspaper down the streets and shouting out like an Old Testament prophet (for I felt that was the power of the spirit within me) that we should all be having parties in the street and organising a whole month of street parties to celebrate a victory for civil rights, that I realised we had not all been sprung out of prison after all.

Singing and dancing in the streets.  Expressing and perpetuating the happiness and relief that was obvious in the people around that newspaper stand.

——————–//——————–

The whole and actual story is that the aim, at the moment, is to reduce the number of stop and search incidents and make the facility a more effective tool, perhaps concentrating on geographical areas of high crime.  The goal is that the ratio of searches to crimes detected should change, with the former coming down and the latter going up.

It is acknowledged in the article that there are many community leaders who still see stop and search as a valuable policing tool, without which violence and crime might increase.  Interesting, given the evident joy and relaxation on people’s faces.  That was how I saw and perceived it at the time.

We need to celebrate every small move in the right direction in the restoration of civil liberties.  I think organised street parties would not be a bad way to show that we are onside with this move and that we are happy about it.  Happiness does not produce violence, and from what I saw, we are happy.

When weak people resort to violence it is an expression of fear and outrage, in my opinion.  In physical powers for violence and the authority to allow certain officers to get away with abusing those powers, at least temporarily (some of them might hold the opinion that being brought to justice later for those abuses is a price worth paying for the ability to carry them out in the first place), the police are not the weak party.

The article also said something about the fact that the police should be calm and professional in carrying out searches.  This much should be obvious, and it should be obvious that any officer who is not able or willing to meet those standards should either not be working on that day, or should be relieved of their position permanently.  If it doesn’t happen already, I believe that a daily assessment should be made of an officer’s state of mind, maybe family circumstances etc, and their ability to operate those powers responsibly and respectfully with everyone they approach.

We, the people, need to allay the fears of our leaders, insofar as they are real fears, by showing appropriate joy at this development.  As far as the fears are hypocritical in themselves, we need to disarm the people who tout them dishonestly.  We will not resort to violence, we will show our approval and joy at this decision.  Our joy unbridled disarm people using this excuse hypocritically, and in some cases expose them, and that is necessary.

Personally I wonder how far the presentation of this decision as being intended to improve race relations is truthful and accurate.  I know this is not just a race issue.  This is a police and people issue.  All races suffer and have suffered from the employment of this power.

To bring the story back down to my sad, sole self again, as is my habit, twice this week, on two consecutive days, I was an object of unwelcome police attention.

The first time was Tuesday morning at Heathrow airport.  I was there the first day because I had tried to apply for a crisis loan at about 2.30 pm on Monday afternoon.  Without it I could not afford a roof over my head that night.

I had held the line for about 20 minutes waiting for the phone to be answered.  By the time I got through I told the person I thought it might be too late for the application to go through anyway.  She said her systems were down and it wasn’t possible to start an application and to call back in an hour.  I said that, by that time, the offices would have stopped making payments, and she told me that alternative arrangements would be made for paying out, since their systems were down.  I asked her if she knew that and what the arrangements would be, and eventually she withdrew that assurance, saying she had spoken to a supervisor who had told her that it was not possible to make alternative arrangements for paying a crisis loan for that day.

So with the little money that I had I looked on the internet for a cheap dormitory room.  The best I could come up with for the price was a mixed dorm, which I would rather not have if sharing a dorm is a necessity.

After paying the online deposit I realised that the hostel did not accept cards for payment of the balance.  That was a problem for me.  It was 6pm, I did not have any accounts with the minimum of £10 that would make it possible to take money from a cash point.

I checked the money in my pocket and realised I was 65 pence short of what I needed to pay the balance.  So I went to the Co-op nearby, where I knew I could get some bread labelled vegan and that I would enjoy eating, and bought some food with my card, which was the best and most practical thing it was good for at that point.

While I was in there I hatched the idea of asking someone if they would let me pay for one of their items with my card and them give me the cash, if they had been intending to pay by cash, but no one that I asked had been intending to pay by cash, so I gave up asking because I felt embarrassed.

Eventually I wondered into Charing Cross tube and rail station and walked up to a food outlet.  I saw a man getting money out to pay for his purchase, and asked him the same question, explaining my situation.  He just said he would give me the 65 pence, and actually gave me 70 pence.

Even then, I realised I did n’t have enough money for the key deposit, which is usually about £5 or £10 per stay, and I hoped that the proprietors would be sympathetic and understanding and allow me to stay anyway, given that I could pay for the room itself.

However, when I got there one of the first men I encountered was a staff member whp came up to the desk referring to someone being a ‘stupid, dumb cunt’.  When I told him a minute or two later that I had found it disturbing as my first encounter, he said someone had put an empty plate into the microwave and something about a fire or a fire hazard, and passed it off that way.

After he had gone I discussed my situation with the girl on reception, and she asked for ID or some sort of security.  I said they could look after my laptop, if they wanted to.  That was after I had suggested one of my account cards as identification.  She rejected both of those suggestions.

She said I needed government-issued photo identification, like a driving licence or a passport.  I pointed out that I was British and that this had not been necessary anywhere else I had been over the past 4 months, and that I didn’t drive and that I had lost my passport which, as a UK citizen, I am not obliged to possess anyway.  I told her I could pay for the room but not the key.

She said it was the rules that there had to be photo ID.  I didn’t remember seeing that on the listing and also said that they didn’t have the right to impose stricter rules than the law itself imposes on a UK citizen and that I thought they were acting illegally.  She had already told me that I couldn’t stay and checked it with her manager at my request who confirmed that, and I left with nowhere to go and not enough money to book something else.

So I headed for the airport, and I have already written about what was happening there in my last post but one.

(To be continued)

I’m in a Taylor Walker pub near Paddington.  There have been lookalikes of Colin the pastor from Kingdom Faith whose last name I can’t remember at the moment, and there is a lookalike of David White sitting right by me and he has been there for about an hour while I have been here.  As I remember him from about 20 years ago, obviously, not as he would be now.  The look, the carriage, the mannerisms, everything.  Mobile phone conversation, not sure if real or not, or if so much language of church and business and therapy overlaps these days.

In the corner there is a nasty little runt in green who, when I laughed, made a point of saying to his ‘friend’ something about laughing and sounding happy but being manic or something and you need to calm down.   That is psychological violence and criminal harassment.  I said something about everybody being a closet analyst these days and not even admitting to it.  maybe because they are not good at it and are only using it for harassment and control and what appears like subliminal attacks, even though they are quite open and obvious.  I’ve heard of double bluff.  I wonder if there are any terms for bluffs that go deeper than that!

Nasty runt in corner has just upped and gone.

What is this?  Is this the latest fashion in achieving a sexual conquest or something?  Man, it’s grubby.

Of course some fire is random and other is not.  I was just listening to Melvyn Bragg and his guests on ‘In Our Time’ discussing Delacroix’s painting of Liberty Leading The People, and the woman contributor pointed out that a woman used to be seen as a blank canvas on which to project any ideal, and to round off one of the contributors said you only have to look at the painting to see what kind of revolutionaries they were, and my eyes were immediately drawn to the two guns in front of her and behind her.  My first impression was that one wanted to shaft her while the other wanted to shoot over her head.  On second sight I thought they might both be more hopeful and supplicatory, wanting to draw Liberty to them.

I thought about something I read in William Blake in my Romantic Poetry class, about letting something fly as it passes otherwise trying to control it you lose it altogether.  I can remember an old man with scissors in his hands and somehow, either in the poetry itself or in Alan’s commentary on it, the idea of clipping people’s wings was disapproved.

Clipping wings.  I don’t know.  On a winged animal is that something anyone would ever do for the animal’s benefit?  I think not but I might be wrong.

Surely it can’t be done for the benefit of a thought or emotion either.  I keep coming back to discovering that if I don’t censor my thoughts and emotions to myself, even if I don’t express them outwardly, after allowing the thought and the emotion which I might instinctively want to censor and letting myself think or feel it without trying to repress it, I will come back into my own equilibrium.  That obviously doesn’t apply if I think the people around me are hacking my computer, in my writing I hardly ever recover my equilibrium, but on my own while out and in my own self that no one sees I do regularly.  I just wrote that bit about hacking and the woman downstairs said ‘yeah, baby’, with a derisive laugh, and they have been interjecting all the time I’ve had my headphones on.  But yesterday all the women screamed just before I went to turn my light out, and that decision all happened in my head.  But they have all been on at me all the time I have been here, they have no respect for anything most people consider decent.  When I leave I will say which hostel it is.  It is London, 12.15 am.  But they haven’t stopped all night and probably don’t intend to.  They are saying hallelujah and dobre and coming out with all the old accusations and harassment and violently striking surfaces.  I know who is violent and it isn’t me.

I was thinking today about the law and not having to implicate yourself in a crime.  I think that should change, if you know you have committed one.  You should confess immediately when asked, in the presence of a solicitor, and not to do so should be considered to be wasting police time and public money and changing your plea half way through to guilty if you have dishonestly maintained your innocence to that point should not lessen your penalty or punishment, since those are the terms we still think in.

A criminal should not be entitled to the defiance of not implicating themselves.  Nor should the police and other authorities be allowed to get away with the dishonesty and misuse of power which makes people say it is preferable that guilty people should have the right not to ‘implicate’ themselves.  I think the experience of the abuse and misuse of power often comes before an individual decides they need to protect themselves that way.  I don’t know, which came first, the chicken or the egg?  Whose underhandedness was winked at first?

When a community knows that someone is guilty of a crime they disapprove of, and that the person is protected by the present legal right not to implicate themselves and therefore see no action being taken, in some cases their anger can be a legitimate thing.  Obviously if it gives rise to violence or vigilantism or reciprocal crime that isn’t true, but a good community should not be expected to bear the brunt of the criminal’s present right to withhold information unless asked.

As a consequence, our society has tipped over into a really unhealthy place.

I can’t write more.  The screaming last night as I went to switch the light off sounded like what you would expect a gaggle of witches to sound like and there was obviously a spiritual dynamic to it. I wanted to write more, but I am going to wait.  And then it might not come out the way I intended.  Because we are now rife with violence and witchcraft in our country.  Threat, harassment, spiritual theft, intimidation, vile, savage mockery and defiance and disrespect.  Both men and women, rulers and ruled.

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.

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.  

Hallucinogenic Anxiety

I am now so much in fear and anticipation of someone speaking as soon as I make a sound I feel really inhibited, and when I forget, the dobre or whatever follows, even when the sound might indicate that I am obviously in pain and discomfort, as I am at the moment, feeling sick with severe diaphragmatic pains.  I have to think it is both aggressive and deceitful and ill-intentioned, the way it acts on me.

Over the last two days I have noticed that, lying in bed and trying to sleep the pain off, my mind cuts out sometimes and I begin to hallucinate.  It just goes, everything blanks out and what might be termed a ‘lucid dream’ takes over.  It only happens in bed, it hasn’t happened anywhere else yet, and I only expect it to happen when I am in a resting position.

You tell people there is a problem or ask what the problem is, and they make out they don’t know, even though they obviously do, so what is the point of trying to talk to anyone?  People hear what they want to and say what they want to and act how they want to, and believe they have a right to keep me outside, even if I ask.

Link here.  Why is this not showing, WordPress?  Censorship, harassment, terribly cynical of someone, inhumanly so.  Frightening.  What is the agenda here?

Edit note:  It’s been taken off the Christianity page as well, and it was definitely relevant.

Look, this is embarrassing for me and it should also be embarrassing for you.

It should be embarrassing for you because you say you stand for free speech, freedom, openness and open society – don’t you?  Those of us who are regularly censored know that is not the whole truth, if the truth at all.

It is embarrassing for me because I believe in open authority and politics.  Anything less says the populace is somehow inferior or not well enough informed and doesn’t have the same right to information.  It casts secrecy over things which should not be secret.  The ‘wrongdoer’ sometimes doesn’t know that is what they have been identified as, rightly or wrongly.  It allows one group to identify itself as right against another they identify as wrong, including in international politics.

It says that the person or people the various authorities identify as wrong are the whole cause of the problem and the authorities, and those who establish, employ and use them, are good and right-minded people, and also pure in word and action, or at least justifiable and ‘not guilty’.  People are criminalised just by the approach of the authorities to them, whether they know it or not, and whether or not they are actually criminal.

I believe in openness.  We are all as good and all as bad, we are all to blame and we all have the same rights and responsibilities.  Mistreated people are angry, and some angry people do harmful things.  Unequal relationships are a form of mistreatment.  Unequal vulnerability, unequal disclosure, people in authority or positions of influence who see themselves as being authority rather than serving in administration of what is appropriate to their job.

This is all old hat and I believe all right-minded people agree with me.  With me.  (I said it twice because I couldn’t decide which would communicate most effectively, bold or not bold).  Every day WordPress and other media still use language and material packaged together in a way that is relevant to me in constantly updated ways.  This creates a feeling of obligation and relationship which, I believe, is inappropriate to my actual situation, especially where nothing explicit, by way of committed communication, is ever entered into.  My neighbours know this too.  Hence the violence and harassment, even if it is inexcusable.  To have this kind of fluffy, feel-good, earnest or even comedic communication in the middle of a violent and undefined reality is not appropriate and not helpful.  It makes the problem worse.  Sometimes it isn’t comedic, sometimes I believe I know it is downright sinister.

So you are playing with my mind and reality.  Me, one individual who writes my blog.  The problem is, you do this in domestic and international politics as well, and your designated baddies know that, some of them are vulnerable and some of them are not, some of them have power and in their rage or confusion with this kind of communication can do catastrophic things.  I’ve written about Gadaffi before.  He is in the news at the moment.  I watched a film recommended by a friend, called Zeitgeist, which talked about the language used by the media and politicians around 9/11, and watching the news I’ve been observing the same thing here, at least with CNN, the channel I can get on my TV here.  It is an agreed, asserted view for presentation which is short of whole and little short of legitimised playground bullying and retaliation.  A club for fighting cats and dogs and gossip circles and sending to Coventry.  Ooh, nasty.  I have news broadcasts in mind.  We are all influenced against the love that we are by watching and listening to this.  Some of us are targeted to be influenced, as individuals and groups, and not just what we believe.

People say he is detached from reality.  I felt sorry for him, he looked confused.  Is he detached from reality?  He’s been made the baddy for years and years, and the media says he is detached from reality when he says all his people love him.  But I don’t believe that.  I believe all his people do love him, even if many of them oppose him.  I believe that love is the basis of all emotion and behaviour in every human being.  Most of us don’t understand that, we are not taught to.  The Bible says God is love and that we are made in His image.  Therefore love is also the foundation of our personalities, if not the whole of who we are (as it is for God, in whose image we are made), whether we realise it or not.  When that knowledge is undermined, not recognised about each other, or otherwise becomes emotionally and behaviourally perverted, that is the problem.  Yes, Gadaffi’s people all loved him.  Yes, they fought him (it is a psychological truism to say if you fight with someone you love them.  They have power with you somehow.  Somehow they matter to you.  All emotion, at root, is a manifestation of love, even if it manifests as guilty political manoeuvring and fear of loss of power and position or anything else, or of exposure.  Even if it manifests as anger or hatred or violence.  It is all a sign of our basic feeling and knowledge of connection).

I cried, a little, at what I saw on the television about Gadaffi last week.  I think presenting the news in that way, without the human angle and understanding and acknowledgment on the part of the controllers of communication of their own contribution to the awfulness, is in itself dangerous to society and inhuman.  It helps to make the poor despots what they are.  They are not playing for sympathy. They truly are worthy of our sympathy (they feel like we do, feelings which should not be put down as being out of touch with reality, and wrestle with issues as we do), and our own acknowledgment of how we have contributed to who they are, rather than helping them, through identification with them rather than setting ourselves apart or thinking ourselves better or wiser, to become something different.  Politics should be personal, right to the top and across nations and ideologies.  We need to be able to understand each other’s ideologies and converse and debate and argue with knowledge and respect.  We have to understand each other’s versions of reality so we don’t say someone has lost touch with reality when they don’t conform to our own idea of what reality is or should be.  The view that someone of a different culture and religion or ideology has lost touch with reality should never be put out through a news agency, even if only said in frustration.  It is my belief that this is often, if not always, just a manifestation of ignorance, of not knowing and not understanding, and not knowing how to set about finding out.  Or not caring, which, moralising as I sound here, must be worse.

Christian Life College, where I used to go, talked about two different sonship states.  One, we are sons of God by creation, and for some, we are sons of God by being born again.  That is how it was presented.

I would say that even if we believe in heaven and hell and that Christians go to heaven after death, we are all the children of God by creation at least, if that is what we believe, and if we believe that, we have to know that, on earth, we all have the same rights, whether we have the same religion or not, and an obligation to respect other people and make sure we recognise those rights in all our dealings with them. Including the right to intimacy and vulnerability, and openness and full disclosure, to expect it and to give it, both ways, in every relationship which involves power and authority.

The New Testament letters of the Bible, written to Christians, says honour all men (includes women and children), and that if you do not love your brother who you have seen, how can you love God who you have not seen?  We all share the creation sense of brotherhood.

So we need to be more open, when it comes to power and authority.  You choose your friends, but in your established authority and power relationships you have no choice, either party, unless the person in authority is able to lose and give up their authority and power and everything that goes with it.

That is far more than I wanted to say, but it is now said.  And that is why I for one don’t like my mind and conscience and emotions being played with by the removal of potentially sensitive posts, whether ostensibly for my protection, better criminal-catching, or any other reason, especially when the only direct communication I get from the same authorities is that which takes away from me.

Their behaviour is making me really anxious.  I think they are hacking my computer.

Apart from anything else, the violence, the show of being nice and good and saying dobre and hallelujah all the time, day and night, and violence worse than my last neighbours, if possible, I keep hearing a man up there nervously clearing his throat, and every time I do something a bit different – like today I did a search on how to grow citrus fruit, they react vocally, and this search got quite a delighted reaction.

As I said, I think they are hacking my computer.  So they will know the properties I have looked at and where.  I only thought, about 30 minutes ago, that it might not be just a bit of distressing stupidity, but they might be hacking (he just said dobre as if answering that and they began to react as soon as I started writing this.  Door slamming now) for someone, or even just for themselves, to establish and stalk and harass my future movements and relationships.  Now I think I have cause for concern.

I’ve told my landlord several times and he said he would talk to them and that they said they would try not to disturb me (it’s like having a stormtrooper as a carer, or a wild animal as my keeper), but yesterday I Skyped him and told him again what they were doing, the violence and everything, and didn’t ask, but demanded that I should be protected, in the property I was paying him for, from the people directly above it, who come with the property and over whom I have no choice.  That was yesterday morning.  Last night I had still not heard anything, and I don’t expect to, the way they have handled things so far.  He might even be in on it himself.

I’m looking at properties I really like.  I’ve even won 2 on ebay.  But if stalkers and computer hackers (he cleared his throat.  Most of the time now I try not to lose it completely because they start being violent and placing quite expert psychological attacks on my voice) and mafia, are going to attack and sabotage me everywhere, especially as I’m thinking of dealing commercially in food, that would put everyone at risk, I’m not sure if I can go ahead.  But I want to and insist on my right to do so without fear.

Mockery, cruelty, deception, violence, authorities who stand back and let them, possible savage attacks on future land and property.  I’ve just had some aural interjections which felt so evil I can’t complete this, it has confused my mind.

Edit note: They parrot and ghost my own voice right into my mind.  Normally if I try to retrieve emotional and psychological control of my own voice they ignore me or get violent, but I just reversed the sound being used and a man upstairs yelled as if offended or affected, as it affects me from them. What I hear in their voices I’ve started ending up with severe pains in my chest almost every day, my fear and outrage is so great.  They threatened to come on again just now.  I said in Bulgarian ‘your violence back on yourself, all of you’, and the pain started to dissolve and left, then I heard a woman’s sharp heals stamping on the stairs and they started to come back.  I don’t know how much of this stuff actually belongs together to affect me as it does.  They bang every time I go to the toilet or shower so I’ve noticed I’ve started going all day without a visit, and I’m too scared to move or open my mouth.

They seem to be reacting to something they feel spiritually when I am silent, all the time, when I relax.  I took 2 paracetamol and lay on my bed yesterday afternoon, sweating and immobile from the pain, and as soon as it seemed it was going completely, they banged on my ceiling.  I am sure the fact that they have to put a noise onto every one of mine, even my coughing and speech, has something to do with it.  I read a few months ago that Stalin was a satanist.  People talk about these things but say (legally and with authority to put you in a mental hospital) that you are crazy if you talk and act and reason as if they are true.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I wrote it today, about an hour ago.  It wasn’t explicitly Christian, but I am a Christian and I have posted a lot of things on the Christianity board, partly because I wanted Christians to see.  First it started being moved down the page, then it disappeared altogether.  Scroll down, it is the post before this.  I don’t understand or agree with these rules, if that is what they are.  I’ve used the ‘copy post’ facility so this has all the same tags and categories.

I’ve also updated my ‘My Stalkers, And Other Animals‘ page today.  Check it out.  It’s heavy.

PS straight after posting this I checked the board again and the original post had reappeared on page 2!  Before that I had checked about 6 pages.  But even then they position and reposition things.  Frame and reframe.  It is almost like freemasonry.  But I feel bad saying that, because I feel I should be grateful for the protection of myself and those involved.

Question:  SHOULD I feel bad?  I’d be interested to know who thinks what and why.

On the 3rd, the next day, I walked down Vitosha Boulevard in Sofia and passed a doorway with blood spattered in front of it, just like the reports of mafia shootings, though of course, it might not have been.  There were a couple of police in attendance, no panic, seemed pretty routine.  Lots of big drips of blood.  Straight after my post the day before, on the popular boulevard I was walking down, though I didn’t think it was in any way linked with me.  I hope not.  If other people are going to be hurt because of what I write . . . I hope that wouldn’t happen.  I can’t get my head around the possibility that I might be that significant.

Film Gomorrah Link.  Not downloadable via iPlayer, other recording options possible.  Available until 2.29 am Wednesday 3rd August 2011 UK time.

Documentary – Italy’s Bloodiest Mafia Link.  Downloadable via iPlayer and available until 12.19 am 3rd August 2011 UK time.  If downloaded via iPlayer or other options offered by the BBC site this is available for 28 days after download and can be re-recorded to a permanent format using other software.

The Scoop Radio Interview Link.   Not downloadable via iPlayer, available until 5.02 pm 7th August 2011.

I just noticed these today and two of them have almost expired.  So far I have only watched the documentary and by the look of it the film is about the same group.  The documentary made the same comments as my own observations and thinking have pieced together with regard to the relationship between the mafia and the state.  I appeal to the sources I learned to think from to forgive me for forgetting that this is not a product of my own brilliant mind, because in my situation I feel as if my observations and thinking are unique to me and my own direct observations.

I’m in a hotel.  I’m still getting a woman’s ghost voice.  This has happened many times.  People always say there is nothing happening and no one there that I have described.  Fortunately I now book through Expedia and can write a review of the hotel.  People seem to be angry around me, slamming doors after the documentary finished, and slamming again just now, so I’m wondering again if my internet connection is being hacked.

Two facts made an impression on me from the documentary about a group in Italy.  One was the mafia equivalent of the three wise monkeys, hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil.  Maybe that is where it came from in the first place.  People who speak out against the mafia become isolated by friends and family, and it cost one man in this documentary his marriage.

The second was that one of the people interviewed said they entered into a blood pact, swearing on the Bible.  I didn’t know the Bible was involved.  I’ve always felt the confusion of a religious pull with it and now maybe I know why.  It would make sense to me anyway.

I’m quite isolated myself, and one of the men in the documentary talked about having the sign of the cross made at him, and said it was the same as saying they wanted you dead. I’ve had that done to me, and that is how I felt as well.  That and that maybe they were trying to protect themselves against sexual temptation or something.

I need to do some research on the Bulgarian mafia.  That is obviously the thing in my own mind.

The Italian documentary said that if a person stayed in that city for a month it would be impossible not to buy something that would fund the mafia, that they were involved in drugs and business and prostitution, and extortion was mentioned a few times.  They said 15 year old boys were involved so they could have all the right clothes etc, because otherwise they are nothing.  To me another reason for radically lessening the hold of the fashion industry on the media and advertising.  The media creates ‘the valley of the dolls’ surely, among people of that age, all the pressure, media and peer, classification of what is good and bad, in and out.  Good image and bad. Fashion is pushed and dictated beforehand.  It is decided that something is going to be the look, before it is even on the streets, then people are persuaded and pressured to go get it.

They also showed a football recreation ground that was a gift from a mafia boss.

It looks as if the film and the documentary are about the same mafia group in Italy.  The names are almost identical.

I haven’t heard the radio interview yet either, which is available until the 7th.  That is about a journalist called Jake Adelstein who chose to write a story about Japanese organised crime in spite of risks to himself and his family.

This is the ‘more programme information’ paragraph on this series and on this particular interview (underlined emphasis my own):

“Startling stories from behind the headlines. Neil Mackay – the Sunday Herald’s multi-award winning Home Affairs and Investigations Editor – hears from fellow investigative journalists about the biggest stories of their careers. What on earth drives them to pursue a scoop well beyond the point of their own safety and possibly their own sanity? After uncovering a scandal including a top Japanese Mafia boss and the FBI, Jake Adelstein was told “Erase the story. or we’ll erase you. And maybe your family too” Neil Mackay hears why Jake did decide to write the story despite the risks to him and his family.”

I have highlighted the ‘possibly their own sanity’ phrase because I am wondering how those threats are posed and if I would just be being egotistical to identify myself with this.

Not meaning to be self-righteous here, because obviously I am not perfect, but as a victim of constant neighbour violence and harassment, including at illegal times, over the last six months, by a household that mixes it all up with ‘dobre’ and ‘hallelujah’, I have tried to confront them and appeal to their consciences in words about what they are doing and the right way to deal with their problems (go to the police), and it has made little difference, if any.  The same house producing consistent violence and harassment is also producing consistent hallelujahs and dobres and recently men in tears, and I am a single foreign woman.   I’m not sure I understand this.  It is like one Bulgarian says that there is no mafia control, and another says most business in Bulgaria is controlled by, if not owned by, the mafia, and I encounter all kinds of stuff, as a stranger everywhere I go, which says people know me and where I am from, and sometimes I feel so much love and shame and guilt I think the mafia might be a good thing, not a bad thing, and the violence (and mentally I even put THAT in inverted commas now) really is a legitimate form of discipline and correction that a community imposes on people who are out of step, without resorting to a police service in which people whose job, which they are paid for and from which they can be sacked, one hopes (but check this out for the official policy to police accountability in Bulgaria in 2009), gives them authority they sometimes, if not often, use for abuse and contempt.  I feel the love and sincerity is among the normal, powerless people, including the people above my apartment who target my ears with violence when I’m using the toilet or shower or in bed or any time they seem to feel the need, and who say hallelujah and dobre and cry, as I cry myself.

I have to leave this weekend.  My landlord, who has known all about this for ages because I have told him in detail, has decided to throw me out without ever having sought legal support for me, knowing that my own attempts have failed.

Bulgaria

If the way these people have treated me is typical, they and their country should self-destruct, and I hope to see it in my lifetime.

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

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

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

Look at this.

I’m Sorry But . . .

Today I feel emotionally sick and out of step with everyone, even with my own sense of decency.

Is there a time I should just shut up and let people get on with it?  Just for a day maybe, or a week, or maybe I should cut my tongue out and never be able to speak for the rest of my life!  Now there’s a thought.

As much as I truly admire the people who work so hard for our security and am very touched by the happiness and satisfaction some of them I have heard speaking today are expressing, I still find it repulsive that anyone can be happy about and rejoice over someone else’s death.  No matter how much they or others close to them have suffered.

As I said, I feel emotionally sick.  I still can’t have a thought or emotion begin to materialise without the people upstairs start their stuff.  The uncanniness of it is doing a number on me, along with some of its deliberate and markedly repetitive illegality when they bang just after the boundary line every day.  I wondered after I typed those last paragraphs and thought maybe I’m being a bit too squeaky liberal to be real.  Perhaps I should join the celebration, for reasons of my own it feels like a bit of a weight off of my shoulders as well.  Maybe all decent people are glad, and I just don’t have that level of freedom to be able to enjoy it with everyone else who is also decent.

But I remember stories of days when missionaries went among cannibal tribes, eyes wide open, taking the risks.  And dying.  No political pull outs.  Died for their peaceful, loving, non-violent beliefs, killed by the enemies, in lifestyle, that they had gone to live among and convert/evangelise/win for Jesus.

Jesus said, so the Bible tells us, if we choose to believe it (or it might have been Paul), ‘render to no man evil for evil, but overcome evil with good’.  Armies and governments and terrorist groups are made of many people who, individually, would be identified as ‘a man’.  I’ve heard it preached and taught that war is a different kind of situation to which that does not apply.  That sometimes peace has to be fought for, and that that is the justification for war.  But how can you fight for peace with weapons of war?  If you do the same you become the same.  The act of war causes and deepens wounds in the psyche, personally and nationally, which make it more likely for physical warfare to continue to be embraced as an option.  People don’t repent, they go into denial and justification, and that isn’t something which makes for a future where this is less likely to happen.

We need to be transformed by the renewing of our minds (Romans 12), and that means to establish new habits of acting and thinking. I’ve noticed that when I take a step to do what is right, I understand how wrong the former thing was and how wrong its support structures and rationalisations.  Especially if I thought before that the right thing was the wrong thing.  In my early days as a Christian I was taught that pragmatism and compromise over the truth were not acceptable approaches to living the Christian life.  That belief has not abandoned me, even though these days the church is more at ease with ideas of necessity and pragmatism.  I’m not sure why that is.  Maybe I just haven’t moved on as I should have done.

However, I believe that the spread of peace depends on abandoning war as an acceptable way of ‘maintaining’ ‘peace’.  If war is not an option, we have to go further in building international relationships.  Not ‘so far and no further’.  So far then ‘how very dare you, sir?’  Peace is not compromise.  Peace is Shalom, whole and vibrant.  Peace is love, not polite, formalised, ritualistic functionality.

If war is not an option, outraged people with hurt egos can’t issue a call to arms, pumping out buzz words ten to the dozen that make you feel ashamed and embarrassed to disagree with them.  People who do not embrace armed conflict as an option must surely be easier people to approach.

If we want to talk about the brave people who die in the pursuit of peace, and lay down their lives, I think there is more chance of healing for the world and of leading by example if those people lay down their lives in refusing to kill, rather than in trying to maintain peace and security for their own group by killing people and groups who are seen to threaten it or who strike at it.  If we lay down our lives for peace, sacrifice our lives in being actively peaceful and refusing to engage in war.  Let our own lives be taken rather than kill an aggressor.  Rather than a few being brave for many, I believe we all need to face it and trust for ourselves.  That way we relate with love for all, even for our enemies.  That is how peace is built.  We are governed by peace because we are founded on peace.  It isn’t the result, but the whole structure.  As long as we need to protect our lives, we live with fear.

This is what I should do, not what I do.  I am protecting too much, things and goals which wanting to achieve make me careful for my life.  Crazy things, like seeing the end of coercive medicine in the mental health system, a change in understanding and an end to labelling.  Even more, I don’t want to die on my own, maybe never to be discovered and with my life seen as worthless and full of failure, and something to be despised and not missed.  That is my craziness, wanting to hold on to my life until I feel it is worth something, not so guilt-ridden and not so isolated.  That is how I feel under the present abuse.  Too guilty to die, and guilty for hanging on.  Sorry for coming back to myself, but on the other hand, I think facing and coming to terms with yourself is a necessary part of being able to embrace this lifestyle choice anyway.  So no, I’m not sorry, really.  You have to come back to yourself to lay your life down by deliberately committing to non-violence.  I know so.  I’m only sorry I can’t express it better because of what is going on in my life at the moment.  I could possibly express it if I chose my own advocated actions, but under the abuse I can’t do it in words.  The option for me seems to be to surrender to and make myself vulnerable to my abusers (who might only be abusers in my mind anyway), or not to be able to express it in words.  But I do have a problem with my abusers if that is the point they are trying to make  by their abuse.  ‘Join us, we’ll teach you the way of peace and non-violence by making you pass through the fire of our violence’.  Jesus didn’t use violence.  The Bible says the devil can appear as an angel of light, and that means his presentation is appealing and persuasive.  But trust goes to the cross.  They present as Christians, and everything I try to say is aurally countered, either actively or with silence.  Or is it all a product of my own fear and darkness?  The Bible says in Christ there is no darkness, it also says the darkness becomes light.  To me that doesn’t just mean that a light shines removing the darkness but that, where Christ is, the darkness itself, even the darkness of violence, is light.  That is the conviction of my heart and soul.  Love, my love for those who do me violence, makes even the violence a source of light and something into which I should walk.  And these words are darlings I refuse to kill by putting them into action.  The violence and exclusion/silence, because of the ‘hallelujahs’, feel like a call, a ‘trial by fire’.  But also, post-communism, it feels somehow inappropriate.  So why am I arguing so much?  Have we talked our way out of needing to pay the price, by invalidating the price asked and demanded as torture?

New readers take note, some of these people are named on my blog, most are not, in most cases because I don’t know them.  And when I say ‘imaginary friends’, some of them are friends in both my imagination and their own, and most of them are friends only in their own imaginations.  And obviously, throughout this communication, ‘friend’ can be substituted with ‘enemy’.

Or, to all stalkers and computer hackers everywhere.

(Shall I do it Kafkaesque? I think this is Kafkaesque, but I’m not sure).

They always say that, you know.  It wasn’t my fault.  I didn’t want to do it. They made me.  I had to do it to keep my job.  I was just obeying orders.  Yes, I knew people were real people, yes, I knew I was contributing to suffering and in some cases, most cases, authorising or executing people’s deaths.  I became a really cruel person to cope with that.  I couldn’t handle my conscience in the job any other way.  They disgust me, these people.  I, I, I.  I did it because this and I had to be this and that to handle it, but I never really wanted to.  It was my upbringing, at the time I had no choice.  Of course I’m sorry for the people I made suffer and killed, but I had no choice.  It was my job, you see. I was under orders.  I was under orders.  I had to obey orders.  I had a family to feed.  I had to keep my job.

No, it isn’t Kafkaesque, I thought it could have been, I thought I could do it, I felt in the ‘zone’, but . . .

My neighbours have just started up, hmm-ing and banging.  They know when my alarm goes off in the morning now.  I don’t normally use one, I haven’t used one for years, but I decided I wanted to set a time to be woken up or to mark the desired time of my latest waking, so that I would be setting the terms of my own waking, in the hope that being woken up by violence would stop.  But they know what time it goes off now.  When I came back from the police, at around the time my alarm had previously been set to go off (it was early, about 5.30.  I decided to let them have a wake up call on their own dirty terms, by day three she was screaming at me to shut up.  Can’t understand.  They have been at me relentlessly and mercilessly for ten weeks, in every private place and with more injurious means) a sound like a loud siren went through the whole building.  Retaliation. I don’t know what they were expecting.  I lay there in shocked silence, maybe angry, I can’t remember.  Probably defiant, but I can’t remember.  Possibly not defiant.  I had already changed my alarm to go off at a far more decent time, 8.15.  (If you want to know what my neighbours are doing as I write this, read yesterday’s ‘Odd Thoughts’ entry.  I won’t rehash old stuff again today).  When it went off at 8.15 they commented, souded disgruntled for some reason, but I don’t know why.

They try to pass themselves off as sweet, playful children.  Or she does, anyway.

Anyway, yesterday they made a noise over my bed just before the alarm went off.  Today they did the same thing.  I can’t remember how it went exactly, the order or anything.  I think a noise just before it went off.  It went off and I let it run out.  On purpose.  I didn’t switch it straight off.  Normally I would have done, like a nervous, obedient by training servant or something.  It ran out, and it went off again.  They seemed a bit annoyed.  I felt I had a point to make about whose home this is.  Anyway, as soon as it stopped, she imitated the sound of its buzzing, then tapped, then ran her tongue off, but not at me, almost as if I wasn’t there.  I don’t know if it is my own shock and grossed-outness and failure of resources to handle such grossly outrageous behaviour (is it outrageous by Bulgarian standards?  I still don’t know.  The days of the People’s Court are not that long gone.  I wonder how much it has been left behind in their thinking and practice, whatever their written laws say.  if my experience is anything to go by, it has not been left that far behind with a lot of people, even hallelujah-touters.  I say touters.  There is no guarantee that they are Christians just because they say hallelujah.  Some things, I believe, are not a matter of Christian education).  But back to my pre-bracket sentence.  Maybe it is my state of shock which causes the coincidence between my thoughts freeing up or creativity beginning to flow or separating from them in anyway, and the violently invasive and or ugly interjections which hit/meet those times.  My change has no intention.  It doesn’t happen by intention.  It might come out of a process of thinking, that I decide I am free to pursue my day apart from their terms and I begin to plan it, but most times I don’t even get that far.  All of this is silent.  But their actions are intentional.  They speak, loudly over my air, like a spiritual pronouncement, and I am sure it is intentionally. . . . it’s too weird to explain.  Or they bang.  If I cough natually and unguardedly, they bang.  They did this morning.  It is obvious which comes first in that situation.  But which comes first and what causes what when I am silent and they are noisy?  Are these wrong questions to ask?  Are these questions in themselves the nature of occultism?  Am I wrong to be concerned with these questions?  (Reminder to myself, mental illness, stalking, harassment and occult.  The bit below my blog title.  That is the reason for my questions.  It is not because I am proud or relationally inadequate.)

So here I am, I’ve been whipped and dragged a merry dance again.  I don’t know why I write it all down, it feels like the only way.   I want to go to the toilet but am afraid.  I want to shit, and they start saying dobre and hallelujah.  Every time.  Or banging.  I’ve always believed (she just ejaculated ‘dobre’ as I typed my bold italics.  See yesterday Odd Thoughts. But then see the rest of today’s post and know I haven’t a clue.  Before that he was purring prayer-ministry- type ‘hmm’ agreements.  They are stamping their territory today, still refusing to go to the police) that kind of thing is indecent.  Are they trying to force me out with indecent and violent invasion of privacy?  It looks that way.  I say I’ve always believed, but that isn’t really true.  It has never come up before for me to have an opinion about it one way or another, not even in my basement flat in london, really.  I should just stop writing instead of letting it take over my posts.  I don’t know why I don’t.  Probably a combination of exorcism, appeasement, stubbornness, fear and blind panic.  Outrage.

So, if I can retrieve something of my original intention.  What I was going to say was, to my stalkers, my imaginary friends and enemies, known and unknown, media, church, government and ‘other’ . . . .  I know . . . nothing.  She aims at my throat, and I know nothing.

So I’ll ask a question instead, which I intended to ask anyway.

OK, I can hear you stalking me.  You say you like me.  You say this is good, and that is good, but you’re not sure about this, and we need to back off and be careful, etc., etc.

But like, you like me, yeah?  From your stalking of me, that is the impression you have of your feelings about me.  That feels good to you.  You trust your own judgment, and you are happy because you believe I am worth stalking, because you end up believing good about me, and that makes you happy, and that feeds into your output in your programmes, or you can weave it into your sermons or policies or other presentations.

But what about how I feel, and what it does to me?

You are like expectant parents, cooing and taling over a baby in the womb.

But . . .

If you invaded that baby’s person and environment, as you do mine, for the same kinds of assessment and analysis and judgment, what kind of monster or creature do you think might survive to emerge?  Someone being stalked without their knowledge, or without proper acknowledgment of the fact when they realise, has no more resources to cope than a growing foetus, and no more chance of survival.  How, in your thinking, have you managed to change a person’s status from being a victim of your injustice and kidnap, effectively, into that of someone who should respond with gratitude and humility to your recognition (true or false) that they are and have a gift, and your terms of operation or utilisation?

We don’t do answers on a postcard these days, do we?  I was just thinking of the person who said that (Cindy Kent) and her part in this.  I could have expressed it very acceptably and decently and reasonably, but that foul, occult hallelujah indecently harassing criminal demon-child of a woman upstairs just made a verbal snatch for my thought.  That is what she always does.  They are always telling me I have no right.  Whatever I do.  How grossly entitled can some people feel and believe themselves to be?  I challenged her and she giggled.  That is gross in itself, given the ugliness and criminality she operates in most of the time.

If I don’t get this out, you will play with me until I do.  But you will anyway, and make me feel disgusting and guilty or disempowered and vulnerable, whichever fits.

A Different World

Here we go again, whenever my words and emotions connect there is a bang from upstairs, and suddenly both my words and emotions are in ruins.

I was going to say something like, I’m just watching a news report on BBC World News, about a killing in Afghanistan, and looking at the uncomfortable stoicism of some of the people who seem to be presiding men, and young boys crying alone and no one comforting them.   Maybe no one was there, I don’t know.  But I was thinking I am so pleased for the therapy and ministry movement in the West and that our men aren’t expected to do the stiff upper lip and upright bearing thing anymore. 

Earlier there was a story, in Extreme Weddings, about a couple getting married, an arranged marriage, and the woman was shown on her wedding day, and she didn’t look to me just overwhelmed, she looked grief-stricken, but I might have misinterpreted it.  And the older women dancing like minarets, and everyone doing the strained happy thing that people do at weddings everywhere, because it is supposed to be a happy day.  I wonder if so many marital problems start right there, at the insistence, whether it is true or not, that everyone is happy on the wedding day.  The expectation that that is how it should be, whether it is successfully carried through or not.  But I looked at that report and wanted to come home to England.  Ever the wimp and melodramatist.

This is interesting.  It refreshes everything I know and fits about 80% of what I am experiencing here and have been for years.  From the psychiatric point of view, I particularly found the concept of ‘gaslighting’ interesting, and thought it was valuable to see it raised in this format, which lays claim to professional consideration.  It is about setting out to drive people crazy, saying things were never done and never happened.  Apparently it is a 1950s term.  If someone like me said it, I would just be called paranoid, and have been.

It’s a 10 page article, but it is a quick read with a lot of space.  It is overall a checklist.  I found it on a yahoo answer to a woman with OCD who was experiencing occult attacks, physically, leaving marks.  The person who answered her said that abuse can open the door to the demonic world, which I already knew and have heard in sermons and read in books.  This article doesn’t talk about the demonic, it is about abuse.

I undertook the search because of the things I have said happen in my apartment between me and my neighbours, and the fact that I was reading a blog this afternoon by a woman with OCD, and commenting on her blog made me think about doing a search on the connection between OCD and the occult and the paranormal.

I am sure it can be said the other way round with as much validity, that the occult can also lead to abuse.

I berate myself about my own obsession and inadequacies and evasion of my own responsibility to just go out and get on with my day, which I insist to myself would be easier to do if I did that from the beginning rather than reacting to them.  But this article says that one of the things an abuser will do is prevent their victim (it uses that language) from leaving the room during an argument, and it seems obvious this can also be done through psychological means, through deception, through threats and intimidation and inflicting trauma. and also that the space you can be prevented from leaving can be just as much a psychological space as a physical one.

Keeping people in a psychological space is used in selling and broadcasting, keeping a person’s attention, I suppose it is also appropriate to see certain kinds of cyber attack and interventionism the same way.  You are not allowed to act or think independently.  Threat can be involved.  I think it usually is, even if resolved into humour, but that is only my thought, I don’t have statistical evidence, but perhaps someone else does.

The search I put into Bing was ‘OCD occult paranormal’.  I found the answer which linked to this article just a few down on the first page.  Yahoo answers, or something like that.  Definitely Yahoo.

Being up to my eyeballs in it, I think this is a good read.

Please read my last post.  It was tagged but WordPress has not allowed it in this category.  Thanks.  Sorry it rambles a bit.  Since writing this they have put a link at the bottom of my post to another called ‘A Couple of Technical Questions’.  They say it is automatically generated, but everyone does this and I know what they have in mind, whatever they mean by it or intend, and those questions are matters for the police, not stalking and harassment.  I suggest they should shut up or put up.  They should go to the police.  I am not afraid, in fact I wish they would.  I’ve already talked to the police.  They won’t be telling them anything they don’t know already.

See it here.

When I was in my teens I used to like to wear maxi dresses, especially to church.  I felt good in them.  We weren’t allowed to wear trousers and I didn’t feel comfortable in shorter dresses, I felt self-conscious.  Maureen Shearman, Andrew Shearman’s wife, brother of David, sat opposite me at the lunch table in church one day and had a conversation which didn’t include me with someone else next to her, about how maxi dresses were a way of attracting attention to yourself, and that was seen as a negative thing in my church.  Pride and vanity.  I was a fat teenager not allowed to wear trousers in church.  The right words to describe how I felt feel ridiculous because of the present harassment.  Self-conscious, mortified.  They don’t feel ridiculous, they feel not mine, so not helpful.  They should be mine. Alongside everything else these neighbours are stealing from me.  I’m terrified of them, they are so grossly indecent in their insistence on making me believe they are right, whether they believe it or not.  Especially the men.  I need the affection of kind men.  I think they are playing on that fact to continue their control.  I didn’t mean to write about them, I never do.  Through making me feel I can’t continue with what I do intend to write about, they insinuate themselves into everything.  Perhaps I should start using another colour for the terrified and desperate and angry material they provoke, then people can skip it if they want to.

The dress Kylie Minogue is wearing in this picture is reminiscent of the long nightie I borrowed from my grandmother (I’m not going to say what we actually called her because when I did when I was small I was put down for it by another child) to go on Summer camp to Southsea and Portsmouth, while my dad was still alive and I was in the C of E at that time, I think.  The staff were called after the Wombles, if I remember rightly.  Maybe I’ve got that wrong, I think we had a Great Uncle Bulgaria,  but I can barely remember that part of it.

I wore a much nicer and more stylish dress, I think, sleeker and not frilly, to take Ray and Jill for dinner at the Nottingham Savoy.  I was really upset because I think I had booked for the main restaurant and a proper dinner, 3 course, 5 course, something like that (when I remember, engage in memory, the people upstairs start getting uncomfortable, clearing their throats, making noises.  I just want to shut them out and it disturbs me deeply, it frightens me that it happens, and I resent it.  I am convinced it is the nature of their own harassment that makes it possible.  They are stealing me from myself, and I can’t initiate facing and confronting the serious issues in my life feeling this way, because I know what a hash other people, left to themselves, have already made of them, and me.  I need myself and my memory and my perception, in my own free space.  Why?  Because if I have to face a trial I want to be able to stand up for myself or at least represent myself accurately, and if I [they are getting more aggressive and banging] have to go to prison I want at least to be able to survive.  If I go in pulped already I won’t be able to.  I’m not afraid of prison.  I’m afraid of what might happen to me if I go in already pulped.  The same applies over the eviction issue, if I’m not allowed to remember and people think they understand better than I do, I might lose my home or retain it on terms I can’t handle, and I’d like to deal with it efficiently up front because I don’t have the money to be able to afford trial and error), and I think we lost it because I was late.  We had to make do with the grill.  (I can’t even experience the healing of my own memories with these people.  My grandmother would have called some of their verbal output shit with sugar on, and my grandmother was a very capable person, she kept things running, until she fell and broke her hip, and even then she did outwork for a local medical company, for very little money, and was always pushed for time and exhausted and upset and harassed, as well as being uncomfortable and in pain.  She worked all day and only stopped to sleep and eat.  She was afraid of hospitals and never got her hip fixed, she refused and no one forced her.  Forced her?  You can tell where I have been.  My neighbours are indecent, imposing themselves on my consciousness as they do, 24/7). 

Anyway, back to the point.  I mentioned Kylie Minogue and her toilet references in my Scritti Politti post 2 or 3 days ago.  Now she appears hunched over looking shame-faced and hiding behind big sunglasses and wearing my grandmother’s nightie to go out in (both the nightie and the dress I have mentioned were the same colour), and I’m wondering why people are using such subterfuge to try to communicate with me and don’t just use direct contact, as they are able.  They ARE able, they can comment on my blog, they can use my email address.  This isn’t fair.  These people, even my family and other past relationships, are being indecently cowardly and harassing in all this.  They should make proper contact, and they know it.  I am living underneath people who are terrifying the life out of me with the deliberateness of their harassment and the depth of the men’s cowardice (or opportunism?) in particular, in harassing a foreign woman and not going to the police, and everyone who knows me or used to know me is just as bad with their coded presentations.  When are you going to see fit to stop and make proper explicit contact about the things you want to make contact about?  Do you have any idea what you are doing to me?  You don’t, do you?  You don’t even care.  You are as bad as my present neighbours and are enabling them in every way. You’ve never cared, throwing in your verbals and pictures from a distance, knowing how to contact me and never doing it.  How can I, feeling so beaten up and dazed from abuse, and frightened when I go out because mentally I’m all over the place with constant flash backs of police and other authorities despising me and not daring to go to them, believe that any of you care?   You care enough for tears and guilt and uncomfortable expressions, but not enough to come close and help.  I need practical, legal help, not psychological and emotional rehabilitation from the people who have been responsible in the first place.  What I am experiencing with these people will continue unchallenged, here and everywhere else, until you people stop your own cowardice and make it stop.

Edit note 7.54pm UK time.  I just added the tag ‘Violence Against Women’.  Apparently it still appears under all the other tags, but it isn’t appearing under this one.  I don’t understand why not.  I tagged it about 5 or 10 minutes ago.  Maybe it’s another instance of WordPress psychological violence against me.  They have been stalking me for ages with bait and switch, a couple of sweet and materially relevant Freshly Pressed posts followed by something psychologically violent straight after, like some form of aversion technique.  AOL does the same thing on its ‘Today’ page.  My browser crashed after I started this note.  When I came back online I was taken back to the Violence Against Women tag page, and before the first post an advert had appeared for hosting your own blog, through WordPress.  I don’t know how that works, if I still have access to the tags page on the main site.  At the bottom of my post an advert had appeared for Pop Pressed and its featured ‘Win-Win’.  If I have a mental health diagnosis which people like these have been exploiting for years to continue in what they have been doing, it would be completely irresponsible of me, and puerile of them, to want to allow a ‘win-win’ situation.   End of edit note.  My blog could disappear any moment.

10.09 pm UK time update:  I just added the tag ‘Fashion’, which I thought was already there, but although it says on that page that it has just been posted, it doesn’t appear.  Unless the tagging system has changed and now too many don’t go through but the ones before do, it appears to be ‘some sort of’ censorship and selection.  This could be something to do with the personalities involved, because when I looked under the Jools Holland page for a previous post after my Scritti Politti post a few days ago, I discovered the one I posted a few months ago was no longer listed.  I think they are trying to make me feel like a naughty little girl who doesn’t automatically have the same publication rights as everyone else.  When I got half way through that last sentence I got a notice saying IE needed to close.  It felt like a message saying, ‘no, that’s not it, don’t post this’.  So is it hands on or do I have a virus, vocabulary activated or something?  Is it protective or harassing, should it be seen as legal or illegal?  I believe it should be seen as illegal.  It is deep manipulation if this is a targeted thing.

Green Gartside, to be exact.  But my ears pricked up as soon as I heard ‘Scritti Politti’, because when I was at the Polytechnic of North London (now London Metropolitan University, I think) studying English, I was in a class with a lecturer called Pat Jackson (so we must have been studying pluralism as critical method.  I think we had to go for another than our main option, in the final year) and she told us she had heard a song which she thought was rubbish, but when she realised it was Scritti Politti she understood how intelligent it was and it made sense to her, or something like that, because the songwriter, or one of the songwriters, in the band had been one of her students.

I can’t remember who it was, if she mentioned his name.  I just did a Wikipedia search and it says they were in Camden but there is no mention of the Polytechnic of North London.  I didn’t look at the biographies of all the band members, only two.  They mention another Polytechnic up North and Art College or something.  I wonder if they have disowned PNL.

I might not have listened if the Jools Holland television programme wasn’t being advertised on the BBC TV iplayer site.  I haven’t listened for the past few weeks, even though I have meant to.  But there is a main feature advert, so my listening can hardly be called coincidence.

How exposed do I want to feel?  It is hard, when everytime I try to look at something that would make me vulnerable to say, lady sheepy upstairs opens her throat and utters.  It must be something to do with the violence, that they are able to do that.  The hysteria I feel at the invasion takes away my ownership of what I want to say.  And for me that feels mentally and psychologically dangerous.  These people are demons feeding on my human blood, sticking their fangs into my emotionally open and meditative throat.  Keeping it open by their constant, doglike behaviour.

As I was saying, how exposed do I want to feel?  The Wikipedia article says Green Gartside has worked with Kylie Minogue.  Kylie Minogue was on Jools Holland’s New Year Hootnanny programme.  Among other things they were doing their usual toilet stuff, and in her mix which made it obvious Kylie used the word I used to use as a child for faeces, ‘a-a’ (said like the first syllable of ‘apple’ twice), and she performed an appropriate body movement while leaning on the piano.  There was more in that programme, but I didn’t get to record it for some reason I can’t remember.  But where did she get it from, because she definitely had it and used it.

I’m looking at my ‘free speech’ tag and feeling guilty about exposing this, because I told Tommy Boyd he could do anything he wanted with anything I gave him.  But I didn’t mean make a show out of it for years, while I am still living under people who are psychically going for my tongue and leaving me struggling to breathe.  They just banged again, just now.  Three sharp bangs.  They do that when they feel a change in energy or something.  Since they do it when sleep approaches, every time, that is the only explanation I can find for it.  So understand something of my complete fear and desperation.  When I lose it I shout a them to shut up.  I just did, and one of them rapped again and another went and peed.  This is a regular pattern.  I’m beginning to get used to it and see it as normal and not gross, and feel as if these people could possibly be friends.  There is something wrong with my mind,. isn’t there?  I’m bombarded with it all the time, from the media and everywhere.  There is no refuge.  Is this brainwashing?  Indecently intimidating brainwashing and dumbing down, or what?  They shut their doors at me when I go in and out, but do all this to me over my flat.  I began to dream about how I wanted relationships in my new home to be, when I get it, and they did it then as well.  They are holding me hostage.  I’m in Plovdiv.  It might be stupid to give my exact address.  My leaders know.  Knowing this, and that they are leaving me here, or trying to woo me, makes me feel as sick as being here with these gross human beings, whom to call dogs might make me a target for the RSPCA for cruelty to the real thing.

This post which I found under propaganda is interesting to me and I recommend it.  I have a choice.  I can believe I can walk into the embrace of the pastors I love and who love me, and hope and have faith that my relationship with them will make a difference, or I can refer people to this post instead.  Two roads diverged – I’m taking the one most travelled, and losing my own life by trying to keep it, and not in the way I should be.

Colin Dye embraces the model this post talks about.  David Shearman talks about Aristotle.  Hey, what if the writer of this post is wrong?  Then I am further alienating two people I love and who are my life.

All of my stalkers and blog readers are pawing over me affecting intimacy and the right to identify and instruct, and not one of them is making proper committed contact.  Is it any wonder I can’t cope with life?

I just got up.  I went to the toilet.  My upstairs neighbours started fluttering over me and expressing signs of distress – because I’m going to the toilet?  Next thing I know, I’m thinking about what I want to say about it on my blog and am trying to approach it kindly, when savage voice zhena (woman) cries out again, straight into my head.

This is constant, I need it to stop.  My eviction procedure has gone into its second stage and so far I have not felt able to touch it – because I just can’t think straight.  So I’m naming names.  Nick Clegg, you lovely boy, don’t just bang about on your podium, imitating, as you think, the banging from my neighbours (assuming that you have read my blog and that was what you were doing yesterday).  Do something!  I emailed you, and you didn’t reply.  Now DO something other than a dramatic presnentation in parliament.  Contact me properly.  Please.  If that is appropriate and not taking what is properly a legal issue and making it a party political issue.

And while I am on the subject of parliament, for the past two days it has been impossible to watch it live streamed on the internet.  What is going on?  I suppose I can safely assume that I am not important enough for it to have anything to do with me.

I’ve sent Joan Ruddock, my MP, all the emails connected with my eviction and asked for replies.  I have received none.  I did this at the beginning, over a month ago.  From something that was said, by her, I think, it appears she is on strike over me until she gets the gratitude she believes she is entitled to, as if I have to prove myself to her.  The first time I went to see her she wouldn’t let me talk and all but threw me out of her surgery.  She stood up to dismiss me in a way which made me feel that if I didn’t go, the next step would be calling the police.  I have mixed feelings about her, I think she has tried to be nice, and I’m really upset about this. 

I was thinking about how I wanted to word that last sentence to most accurately express my feelings and say what I wanted to say, when my neighbours upstairs banged, leaving me with so great a feeling of desperation and outrage and enormity I didn’t know what to do.  Whatever words I had, or connection with the feelings I wanted, they went, as always. I continue to assert it is their awful mix of hallelujahs and violence and personal invasiveness which is causing this.  I say this kind of constant occurence is the result of their witchcraft.  I’m terrified.  I feel raped in my soul.  I feel as if I can’t speak without speaking to them.  I am effectively their hostage.  Or am I just hostage to my resentment and fear of all the prejudice and discrimination I face here continually, because of the way I am dressed and the way I look?  Security people in supermarkets relax when they see me get my money out, and I think that is gross.  Where before they have marched me and commanded me as if I am beneath them.  But I get my money out and suddenly I am not.  I was in Sofia a few weeks ago.  I wanted to be taken to a hotel in a taxi, and several drivers rudely and aggressively refused.

There is no such thing as public opinion, because the public is made up of many people who hold many different opinions, and who are confused about th eir opinions and change them often, or are paralysed into inactivity or other manifestations of distress.

So I’m wondering how this became an accepted and acceptable concept in the first place?  It is a handy concept to impose, for some people and organisations.  Is it about making money and controlling people, or what?  I can’t think of anything else at the moment.

If you can invoke the concept of public opinion, you can use it not only to say ‘this is good and this is bad’, but also ‘this person is good, and this person is bad’.  In some societies the ‘good’ people can kill the ‘bad’ people for lesser crimes than murder.  That is not to say that killing people for murder is good (though for them it might be preferable to a lifetime of interment). 

I was going to say why should we be punitive by making the punishment last a lifetime, but then I thought about the possibility of change and rehabilitation which wouldn’t be available to them, or us, if we killed them.  Maybe, if we want to be really kind, we should give people an option of the death sentence or a lifetime’s imprisonment or stuck on a psychiatric ward on drugs.  If we are going to argue for voluntary euthanasia and the right to assisted suicide I can’t see why not.  And it might sort out the prison space problem and problems in the economy too, because we wouldn’t be having to pay for them.

You could argue that a life in prison or on psychiatric drugs is not the kinder option, if the person would prefer to get the whole thing out of the way immediately and just die.  Why should we want to deprive a criminal of that option, unless we ourselves are sadistically and viciously punitive?  But then there are others who are sadistically and viciously punitive in the other direction who would say, ‘and a good thing too, taking our space and costing us money’, but they might have a harder time maintaining that if the option of the death penalty was seen as a kindness rather than the ultimate punishment.

Casualty

Today’s Casualty, Just Because You’re Paranoid

The young doctor, Ruth, who is sectioned for Bipolar Disorder and prescribed Lithium, is the exact image of one of my first nurses, but I can’t remember her name.  As it happens, I bumped into her at St Barnabas Cathedral in Nottingham a few years ago.  The character of Ruth, I would say that her whole reaction was about fear of the drugs, maybe about not being able to walk away, and about the fact that this man Charlie is someone who won’t listen to anything she has to say.  To me that seems obvious.  And in spite of the fact that she makes a perfectly reasonable case for why she doesn’t want this kind of ‘help’, even as a doctor she isn’t heard and respected.  She is on section, and takes lithium.  I suppose a doctor would know that they had a right to refuse, in which case it would be brought up for review (that is what I was told in hospital and how it was for me sometimes), but she took it the same way as someone who didn’t know they had any other choice – resentful and trapped.  And no one cares about your feelings about taking the drug, even if they are so obviousl anti.  That is my experience.  I have’t seen this for a while.  I’m not sure if this is part of a developing story line or how it has been handled so far.

Charlie is P J Charters, who used to be the charge nurse and, the last I knew, worked at Speedwell in Deptford.  He’s not a lot different from Charlie.  I think he also might be asked why he never listens.

They mention a doctor or Mr Jordan.  One of my nurses was called Mark Jordan.  He brought me in some Enya tapes, in this programme they talk about him doing his best schizophrenic, I’m not sure if that is supposed to be significant.

The guy with dreadlocks, the porter, who often appears, is a nurse called Peter.  I daren’t say anything about his attitude, I might be called prejudiced or accused of racism or discrimination.  More appropriate might be classism, but people always go for the obvious.

Christians are supposed to protect people.  Who should I protect, myself and other patients, or these people?  Or all of us?  I could say much, much more than I have.

I can’t remember if I mentioned the time, early on in my experience with the mental health service, when I was listening to the kind of music station, in hospital, that was doing loads of ‘shout outs’, one after the other.  I think it was D J Spoony, and I was thinking of him then as David Shearman.  He was doing all these shout outs, and I thought I recognised the names, and in the end I thought it was about me being demonised and the names of demons I needed deliverance from.  I went up to two dark skinned male nurses, I can’t remember their nationality, and told them I thought I needed Christian deliverance.  I think they just stared at me or something, because the next thing I knew my hands shot out, as if trying to grasp for safety, or recover something.  They both just stared at me and one of them said, ‘those hands could kill’.  I’m not making it up and I didn’t imagine it.  I can’t even remember who they were.  I feel as if I shouldn’t be writing this.  To me all of this feel like coded support, that is why I feel wrong about publishing something like this.

Stop Press!

On Thursday, or early Friday, I published a post called ‘Sam’.  Today, none of the BBC Radio London programmes for today are available for download.  They don’t say ‘Coming Soon’, they say ‘not available’, and normally they are.  Most of the day’s programmes are marked ‘not available’.  No one is going to tell me that this is just a technical issue, because there have been far too many ‘technical issue’ coincidences in the past.

Edit note:  1.20 pm UK time.

This is the first post of mine that I have noticed for ages, which has not been posted, at least not in sequence or among today’s posts, on the Christianity board for which it is tagged, although it appears on others for which it is tagged.  If there are too many tags and categories it doesn’t appear anywhere, so my post has been censored on this board.  It is not the first time.  Before I have ranted, it has felt like a visceral attack.  I have assumed the people responsible call themselves Christians, and have therefore found the censorship dishonest and unacceptable in a more painful way than if they didn’t. But I don’t know who it is that is responsible for this decision.  I only know it appears to have been censored, although there appear to be plenty of people who have responded in their own posts, albeit not explicitly.

BBC World News.  He just talked about ‘stricken reactors’, which could also be taken at an emotional and psychological level, as they are aware and deliberately exploiting, and he followed it up with one of his looks and said ‘then there is the little matter of the cricket match’. (Edit: so here I am again – are they saying, ‘we know about all this and we want to help you, or what?)

It is an accusation, a ‘first get their attention then inject the accusation’.  That is what it is.  For me, it is crippling.  Also, I have been very strong and clear and believe I have taken important spiritual and legal ground and gained understanding, legally, about the matter with my neighbours, and have been using Google Translate to deal with it, I asked them why they were banging and said I didn’t understand, that I am not a mind reader and that they shouldn’t be doing it anyway, and asked them if they understood, they didn’t answer, I asked them to give me a yes or no answer, they didn’t answer, I asked again, and said if they were not prepared to give a yes or no answer, it was definitely a matter for the police. They didn’t answer.  I have communicated emotionally, clearly, factually, legally and focussed and redefined a few things and believe I have understood things I misunderstood before, which I had understood in their favour and now understand against them, in light of their subsequent actions over weeks, and refusal to answer me when I said quite clearly that I didn’t understand and gave them an opportunity to tell me that they understood me.

I felt strong, right and enabled.

Then Peter Dobbie moved in for the kill.

He inflicted a gross enormity on my mind.

I still know, obviously, that these people I am willing to see as friends are hacking my computer.

He has thrown something indecent and unclean, merely by his own action, apart from the accusation, into my face, and left me broken and disabled again in the hands of my neighbours, especially the woman, whose spiritually illegal hallelujah, thrown at me or at every change of sound on my television, now has renewed power with and over me and makes me feel wrong and guilty.

And Peter Dobbie, what you are doing is grossly evil and illegal.  You do what you do, and the person who comes on afterwards comes on all cheery and upbeat making me feel your way is right and that I am wrong to find fault and not accept your help.  You have put me right back into incapable and incoherent hysteria and a feeling of being overwhelmed to the point of being unable to cope with all the things that I need to deal with legally.

The people upstairs comment when I cough, they comment when I speak, they comment when they hear a body noise, sometimes in hateful tones, and that invasion seems to give them occult access to invade every silent relaxation with a bang or a cry of pain followed by ‘dobre’, or ‘hallelujah’ on its own.  They have just banged now.  Peter Dobbie, do you know what you are doing, illegally playing like this with another person’s life, and soul, and mind, and spirit, and will, and freedom, etc, etc?  Do you understand the consequences of your illegality in my life?  Do you understand how grossly indecent and treacherous your illegal activity towards me is? Do you know what you are doing to me?  Do you think you are capable of accepting the responsibility of controlling me and my life and repairing the deep injury you inflict?  Do you think I am capable of letting you, or that I should be?  Do you think it is right for you to cut me to your purposes like this?  Especially knowing I have to go to authorities I have every reason to distrust in order to get the help I need?

Here is the tongue-lashing sports woman again.  Is that deliberate, or just a manifestation of the occultism and crime with which I am being targeted?  Is it just her way of coping?  Does the audience want to hear it?  The woman upstairs has just shouted out sharply, right into my emotions (Edit: I think it was hallelujah but I’m not sure now.  As I was checking this over it said aai, but that isn’t something I use and I don’t know how it got there).

You savage, irresponsible, stupid bastard(s).

Men here tend not to respect a woman who actually looks as if she has been or is being abused.  From my memory, it isn’t that much different at home.  What are you trying to do to me?  Do you even know?  If a policeman rapes me of dignity with his eyes and attitude, how can I ask him for help?  I need to go in with my own dignity, and you insist on stripping it away and letting it be stripped.

These people have held me hostage for eight weeks.  I’m about to lose my home, because my landlord is in contempt of the fact that I left to get away from the bullying and want to go back when it is sorted out.  They refuse to recognise it is even happening, and therefore offer no help to sort it out.  If my neighbours say something, I get a psychiatric visit and maybe even hospitalisation, if I say anything, and my neighbours say it isn’t true, that for my landlord and every other authority involved is the end of the story.

Etc.

I wasn’t going to write this much.  You are getting all of this by your own torture, and that of others that you hand me over to.  She is a criminal witch.  My feelings begin to return to me and she purrs hallelujah.  Oh God, bring this man, and those like him, and those in my neighbourhood who abuse me because of what they put into the communities I enter into, bring them to account.

In everything but literal fact, they are murderers.  The feelings you are handing me over to of needing to recognise and co-operate with these violence-and-hallelujah-toting people are gross and illegal.  You should not do this to me, you are wrong.

Here he comes with the ‘out’ word again.  There is no point me trying to go any further.  I will just sound stupid. 

Even if my feelings about what I have written have changed, it remains, because throughout, the onslaught of devices, illegally acquired, to modify those feeling, has been in use, including the use of sequences of numbers.  He just mimicked the voice of my critical method lecturer, who has himself been a playwright and involved in the media, and finished it off with a reference to ‘sanitary’ conditions.  To me that felt really indecent.  The woman upstairs just coughed, as she always does when I realise and feel happy about the fact that I begin to feel able to start expressing myself precisely, accurately, clearly and appropriately, and it knocks my mind and emotions off-balance again.  On the tv they are striking surfaces again, like a personal ‘we must control this’, whatever the perceived object of necessary control, and Peter Dobbie has just handed over, at 11.20am UK time, to the sports presenter, with an emotional tone of disappointment, and I just thought,’spare me the fake emotion’.  The woman’s voice upstairs, with her hallelujahs, is becoming more insistent and aggressive and hard and hateful.  And in their commentaries, the presenters are re-enacting and rehashing the narrative of my own experience and writing, and I think this also is deliberate and criminally accessed.  I haven’t posted this one yet.  Maybe they are using the material from past posts, but that is not a responsible way to communicate.

My post is ruined.  I carry on in hysteria, feeling and believing I have to make things clear, then people taunt me over its length and unreadability.  He talked about compassion earlier, and he is coming on with it heavy now, and is talking about ‘slash’ and trouble, and the use is deliberate, and ‘slash’ is one of the things he was making psychological and subliminally targeted reference to when he talked about ‘the small matter’ I started off with in this post.  ‘Slash’ – coarse slang for urinate.  Nintendo Wii, slash in web addresses – there are many other popularised expressions of a similar nature which I believe have been deliberately created for psychological haunting and to be woven into the mix.

I believe also they deliberately grab at me like this psychologically before deliberately going into and imposing verbal incoherence.  I think it is an attack on my writing and that their presentation is deliberately incontinent and incoherent.  I insist that is the truth, and I think it is gross and evil.

As I now perceive it, this woman has accused me to my neighbours, and is now constantly shouting out painfully and sickenly sweet hallelujahs.  She stood on the balcony, shouting, weeks ago, the first time I heard her, doing her best to make her voice sound sweet.  It affects my mind.  It’s gross and it makes my mind feel dulled.  And when I was screaming in pain and distress, when I was taken to hospital, no one in my block came anywhere near me to see if I was OK.  And no one has said anything since.  Except for the constant harassment and violence.  Maybe me seeing it like that is just my own mind’s negativity, but I don’t know.  Whatever, the harassment and violence which obviously is harassment and violence has to be stopped.

I will not submit to this woman with her antenna constantly attuned to shout as I try to pursue and examine a thought.  I will not.  I cannot.  I should not.  What has David put into my mind here?  She is making me emotionally sick.

Check It Out

Please check today’s updates of my ‘Odd Thoughts’ page.  Thanks.

[This is all there was, then . . .]

When I first published this it didn’t appear, a few minutes ago.  I don’t know why.  I have published things with more tags than this.  Maybe WordPress, or someone, has decided it is spam, or something.

[Then this is all there was, then . . .]

I don’t know what you media people want, pumping the stuff you pump into my communities, taking accusations from them, and making me desperate, but it is deeply and seriously illegal, what you are doing to me.  Zeinab Badawi, for example, imposing your accusation just before running. 7.27 pm UK time.

(She’s back on.  She said it was the end of the programme and goodbye.  They are playing vicious and torturing mind games.  I want these people charged and stripped.  I want them away from anything I have to watch.  It is criminal deception, harassment, torture and illusionism.  it is NOT a choice between corrupt media and corrupt leaders, religious or secular.  They all have to stop.  They have to stop.  This is personal, criminal harassment, not just a different world view.  And appearing nice sometimes does not mean that this kind of criminal harassment, often sadisitic and supported by sadistic and occult methods encouraged in the community through all kinds of media communication – drama, entertainment, ‘factual’ – should go unpunished. 

I choose not to identify this as specifically anti-religious or anti-Christian persecution, because not every victim is religious or Christian.  I will not deny my emotions when writing, these people are evil, and taunting, and base.  They have been talking today about savings banks and saying it as ‘spanks’, and they just emphasised it.  I am completely reduced, emotionally.  They do it, and encourage my neighbours to do it to me, or someone encourages them.  They are taking permission from each other, and where once I might have laughed, I laugh no longer.  I’m a foreign woman on my own in a country I don’t understand using a language I don’t have extensive command of, in fact minimal, and this is savage and unforgivable.  I want to be at peace with this country, I want a future here, because I can afford it, anyone could, and it’s a nice country, and beautiful just about everywhere.  What they are doing is sabotage.  I appeal to Bulgaria.  They are encouraging my neighbours to cut my throat and drink the blood pouring out.  Or rather, they are cutting my throat themselves then letting others take over.  My fellow countrymen.  My country’s media, my country’s leaders.  Is there monetary reward involved?  I was watching ‘Something For The Weekend’ yesterday, and the guests were from a drama about vampires.  It isn’t ‘fun’.  There is serious intent.  There is serious, instructional, witchcraft literature out there.  Some practitioners and people who say they understand insist that witchcraft is benign, but my understanding is that sometimes people are cursed, and sometimes criminality and harm, including kiling, is involved.  Even if it is farmed out to people who call themselves satanists rather than witches.  But I don’t know.  I got it from some books (This Present Darkness, Piercing The Darkness).

Zeinab Badawi keeps saying a strong and final goodbye, then coming back.  In my hysteria it keeps me off-balance and wrong-footed, with spiritual blood pouring from my throat, and in the middle of recovery, my violent, illegal, occult neighbours bang or say ‘hallelujah’.  Or at any hint of self-doubt or self-examination, albeit silent, she swoops in, like a vulture, shouting ‘hallelujah’.  Are they also hacking my computer?  Them also, as well as others?  Silent hours here in Bulgaria are between 10 pm and 6 am.  My neighbours don’t observe those times, they target me anytime.  They walk over me or bang, as if I am some sort of conquest or prey.  They wake me up, or audibly launch something felt as a psychic attack, at every point of going deep, every day, at legal and illegal hours, awake or asleep, often asleep.  Anything I do is retaliation, not initiation.  The retaliation of an invalidated and systematically tortured person, not someone whose human rights are being respected and protected.

Obviously it isn’t only me they (media) are trying to confuse.  I don’t think they have a right to treat anyone this way, not even those they tag terrorists and despots.  Why can’t our news agencies be conciliatory, instead of mocking, derisive, deceitful, hypnotic and disrespectful?  We are all people.  They shouldn’t treat any of us like that.  How can there be peace and reconciliation without honesty, vulnerability and respect?

Gadaffi told Jeremy Bowen not to say that he understood the system, because he didn’t understand, Gadaffi said.  I don’t believe Gadaffi was right.  I believe Jeremy Bowen understood the system, but did not respect it or Libya’s right to it.  The west does not have the right to go in and help overthrow a non-democratic rule, just because discontent with that legal rule has been created in people who ask them to come in and help a rebellion or protect rebels.  It isn’t our turf.  It is enforcement of western values on the legitimate and legal leadership of another country, and whatever bodies our leaders and media use for their appeal to us to believe that what they are doing is right, I don’t believe those bodies legally support going into another country and undermining the laws that were understood by every party involved at the time any agreement was entered into.  In the face of such western corruption, I, of all people more qualified than some, can understand how Gadaffi can be made to look like a madman.  (What follows is an attempt to replicate a far bigger chunk of text than is normally lost when my browser crashes).  He is probably crazy with righteous indignation and pain, at least in this situation.  His rule in his own country is legal, according to the country’s laws, which we have always understood, and we should respect that, regardless of any historical acts of international terrorism, which should not be corruptly and deceitfully and manipulatively brought into play to shape how we should understand the present situation.  What is happening now has nothing to do with the assassination of a police officer called Yvonne Fletcher.  On a human level, having experienced some of the things I have, I feel sympathy for the man Gadaffi.  I have to.  If I abandon sympathy I abandon my own humanity.

I understand now, I think, what these people are doing to me.  They use language and close lookalikes and act alikes and name alikes of family and friends and teachers, to keep me sentimentally controlled, then unleash a complete onslaught on me when I break out and write something like this.  Even steal a massive chunk of text, larger than I would normally lose, even though what I have now written is augmented.  Katty Kay just started with an intimate, affectionate-sounding tone, then lived up to her name and went into something ugly and catty sounding.  Emotional betrayal.  Planned betrayal.  I know people will understand what I am saying here, and I hope it will also be obvious why I choose not to come into close physical contact with people who behave towards me this way, using their own and other people’s torture and criminality, inflicting emotional and spiritual pain and happy to have others inflict it on me, scrambling my thoughts and scrambling my speech.  I choose not to come into close voluntary contact with this, unless they legally commit themselves to whatever their intentions are, whether that be arrest and imprisonment, or whatever.  I want to know what I can expect to have to face.  I have that right.  Yes I do.  I am as happy to appear in court and go to prison as I am to be compensated, but I have a right, and a need, as someone already traumatised by incarceration in the mental health system and corruption and neglect and inadequacy and incompetence and violence from authroities, to know and have explicitly and formally expressed in a way which is legally binding, what people’s intentions towards me are. 

I am not a bitch.  I respect the rights of another country’s leadership not to have their legal leadership, according to their own laws, interfered with.  I choose to respect that and make that my position, regardless of my personal feelings, whatever they may be.  This kind of disrespect from the leaders of our country to the leaders of theirs does not promote peace or understanding, in Libya or between Libya and the UK, now or in the future.  I believe that is the truth.  What it does promote is the westernisation of a Middle Eastern country on which we are dependent for oil, and going by Iraq (yes) that westernisation might be unsuccessful or carry a backlash and resentment or rejection in the future, leading to unrest.  I completely understand that, to some extent, I am just being fashionably liberal and posturing as left wing.  But this is still my honest reasoning, and I don’t want any other.  Please, I really don’t.  I really don’t want to view it differently in any way, and I want my view to be practicable.  Because although it is, in this instance, presented as being about the character of Gadaffi and what, to many English people, are the undesirable politics of Libya, the principle must be that the legal boundaries of another country and it’s leadership should not be transgressed by a country outside, whatever the appeal, unless, maybe, a criminal act as defined by the country’s own laws has been committed by the administration.  And I am ignorant, factually.  I might be wrong and that might be the case.  In which case I am embarrassed again.  Katty Kay is tongue lashing.

This post started out as a one liner.

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’.

‘How much do you think you are worth, boy?/Will anyone stand up and say?/Do you think that your life is worth nothing/Til someone is willing to pay?’ Graham Kendrick.

I just had a real stray dog of a thought, bit of a sick animal.  I was thinking about Nero, playing the fiddle while Rome burned.  I thought maybe he didn’t do the wrong thing.  Maybe it was the right thing to do.  Was there anything else he could have done?

Then I thought wait a minute, he was a ruler.  There must have been something else he could have done?

But we aren’t all Nero, and rulers.  Man, I must be sick.  I’m thinking for some of us it might be exactly the right thing to do.

I think all I really mean is that I wish people wouldn’t pull worst case examples out of the hat and use them to put pressure on people where the comparison is completely inappropriate.

We can pray.  Of course we can pray, if we are religious.  I was going to say Christians then realised Christianity isn’t the only religion that encourages and advocates prayer.

There was a bit of a dialogue going on a few years ago, between ‘prayer changes things’ and ‘prayer changes people’.  The latter position says that, even if your circumstances and situation don’t change when you pray, you will change, and maybe consequently your situation will as well.

I had a conversation on the phone yesterday with a lady from my credit card company.  We got talking about coincidences because the number of my new card was similar to the number of the other new card which I didn’t receive.  I asked her if she had unsettling coincidences in her life as I had in mine, and we mentioned phone numbers. She said that her phone number was almost the same as her friend’s number, but with the numbers reversed.  I told her about my Skype number, and that one of the options offered was the first three numbers of my landline followed by the last four of my critical method lecturer’s phone number.  I rejected it, just stopped trying to get a number, then decided I’d quite like it, but when I looked again a few seconds later, it was no longer available.  Strange.  Instead I ended up with another one, which had the first two numbers of the last part of his number reversed, and the last two numbers of the last part of his number reversed, all in the last part of my number.

That number has lapsed now, I might have to start with a new one.

So I’m assuming a lot of people are subject to these ‘coincidences’.  Coincidences?  And what are they doing to our minds?  And what aberations are they causing in our behaviour and reasoning?

I’m thinking about the marches and demonstrations.  Maybe I shouldn’t be.  But is that really the best and most effective and responsible way to express discontent and dissatisfaction?  Especially in the internet age, when networking and communication about these things can be obvious and open, as a march is.  Surely internet action could be given the same kind of news coverage as a march? I think it should be.  For a start, there were thousands of police at the march yesterday, and have been and will be in attendance at other marches and demonstrations.  That is thousands of man hours and probably tens of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of pounds.  Does that help us economically?  Or does it add an extra drain?

I wouldn’t like to condone violence and damage to property in demonstrations, but I do realise there is discontent among us, the little people, at the bottom of the pile, while the big business and banking employers march off with tons of wealth. Sometimes anger comes out violently, with everyone, to some degree or other.

I think the news agencies need to make a big shift away from the sensationalism of demonstrations and that internet action needs to be highlighted instead and positively encouraged as an alternative.  And if people want a family fun day out, maybe a march isn’t the best thing?  Perhaps something which would add immediately to the quality of their lives and maybe to the economy would be better?

That isn’t a stray dog, and I didn’t have this in mind when I started, but I think it is a brilliant and responsible and progressive idea and am sure other people must have had it as well.

I believe and am convinced that my upstairs neighbours are executing a haunting on me, and people like BBC World News are helping them, with their regular, strongly-spiritual sounding music in their intervals, which grabs me and maybe my neighbours as well.  My neighbours latch onto it and shout ‘hallelujah’, and today they have been tapping at every change and interval.  I just shouted at them with the help of Google Translate that that is what they are doing, and they banged at me violently.  I thanked them for the violence and said that I would take that as a confirmation.

Every time I go to take my thoughts back and inspiration starts to be birthed, she shouts ‘hallelujah’.  At this point someone decided, I believe, that Internet Explorer needed to close because it had encountered a problem, and the newsreader on BBC World News just decided he needed to do a strong throat rasp, which to my mind was completely false.  They fill me with anger and hysteria when I type something like this, and it makes me feel I’m not going to be taken seriously by the authorities or even if I am, because of the mental trauma I won’t be helped.  The newsreader just banged violently on a surface, has started talking about ‘striking’ deals, then went into a more intimate tone in which he said a word to sound like ‘bottom’, as if in the bottom on your body.  I feel ridiculous, and I’m carrying so much that that is a feeling I can’t cope with.  My neighbours just struck violently as well, and she has just shouted ‘hallelujah’ in a disgustingly intimate, almost ‘there, there, there’ tone, as if comforting.

I don’t know the newsreader’s name.  I think it is Aaron something.  It is 2.08 pm UK time.  I feel hysterical again.  I don’t know if the monitoring is mechanical and all by media, if they have it on upstairs or what, or if it is all spiritualistic aided by physical and mental and spiritual violence, they have gained access to me that way.  He has momentarily switched back to sounding normal.  Like bait and switch, which was covered in the Watchdog programme a few months ago. 

I really need help.  I’m not sure if I can get it myself.  I’m not talking about psychiatric.  He has just said ‘letskit’.  His name is Aaron Thomas, I think.  Softly, softly innocent, but I don’t think he is.  He has just said ‘just’ with emphasis, as if to say, ‘I said ‘just’, not something else’.  Assuming the right to communicate, and a lying disclaimer.

I first heard about hauntings from Tommy Boyd.  He said someone had offered to carry one out on his behalf and he had turned them down.

His name isn’t Aaron, it is Owen Thomas.  The savage-girl/woman just said so.  The little dominatrix.  I’m not being hateful or spiteful.  That is the role she is playing.

This is why I left my flat in London, and now my landlord, Hexagon Housing Association, is trying to evict me, even though they know I left to try and get this sorted out from a safe distance and then go back.  They have cited abandonment, among other things.

I’m afraid and desperate.  The taxi companies here are involved as well.  I’m afraid, I can’t cope.

BBC World News is using strong ‘are’s to sound like ‘ah’ as they did on ‘Strictly Come Dancing’, which for me started with Tommy Boyd saying ‘I can make you say ‘ah’ ‘.  I’m not sure which came first, but it seems to me this is also a haunting technique.  Owen Thomas just finished as if he was talking reassuringly to small children.  This is such an insult.  It is a criminal insult.

I want to be happy.  I came here to be happy and safe.  I knew it wouldn’t be easy.  My emotions are in meltdown.  I am constantly close to tears.  My eyes are always wet and I can’t make relationships.

News people also weave me and world dictators together.  As they are now on BBC World News, the round table thing.  They keep clearing their throats.  They weave me together with a lot of people, it is something I can tell from their tone and body language, often.  And Ofcom won’t deal with this.  that is what the first level people have said, and their superiors, and I haven’t had the energy to pursue it further.  They keep striking tables and forcefully exhaling at significant points, so I am assuming that, whether this is a live broadcast or not, there is an element of spiritualism involved in this happening.  I think it is live though.  Their reactions are becoming more pronounced, and the man upstairs has just shouted violently.

If I can’t deal with it in here first, I can’t take it with me outside.  It feels too unreal and I look like a tramp and people look at me badly and it makes me feel angry and hysterical and desperate.  They just said ‘no, no’, in a way which felt like a deliberate opposition and reversal.  And they often hesitate, pause for effect, before saying with an appearance of innocence something like ‘touch’ as they just did.  They are deliberately and hatefully pumping something out into the spiritual atmosphere.  And the presenter has just said ‘we can’t go on any more’ like someone who means it emotionally.  Like me.

All the time they maintain an upbeat approach, even saying that is what they are doing in a way which feels like taunting and adds to the hysteria I feel, and also maintain a tone as if they are talking to small children.  It is now 3pm, there has just been an interval with the same expansive music which was followed up by something which, several times, talked about haunts, followed by a few seconds effective silence, and now Owen Thomas is back on.  I say ‘effective’ silence, because after the strong recognition of what was being done with the haunts advert, I felt terrified in the silence.  Owen Thomas is clearing his throat a lot.  He has just said, ‘Kevin Connelly, live in Bengazi’, and finished it with ‘thank you’, in the same way that I say ‘thank you’.  This is also a regular thing.  He said leak and I felt as if he had touched me sexually.  Somewhere that is the intention, and I know that in some contexts that intention is obvious.  Huw Edwards did it at the end of his programme two or three days ago, News at Ten, and when I just typed ‘Huw Edwards’, Owen Thomas struck his desk.  And my neighbour upstairs has just coughed angrily.  And I have done this silently throughout.  Something in this, if not everything, is deliberate from someone, a lot of people, or everyone.  Internet Explorer just ‘needed to close’ again, when I logged back on, after the woman upstairs shouted ‘hallelujah’ again, I had to retrieve an autosave, and as I did I noticed that at the bottom of the screen it said something which contained the string ‘wpnonce’.  That is what it feels like for me all the time.  A nonce.  Spiritually applied  psycholinguistics, I suppose.  ‘The red button’ is used in the same way.  It is now 4.47 pm and Clare Balding has just done it.

They are banging again, and it feels violent.  I am now firmly convinced that all my computer and browser crashes and freezes are actively and specifically part of the haunting. They even happen with good security.

I honestly believe that most, if not all, of the emotional voice squeaks and wobbles are affected and not real.

The banging is constant though intermittent now, and it is frightening me.  It feels like being beaten up and it feels threatening.  I wanted to go out today, as I did yesterday.  i felt i was gathering momentum and confidence and the ability to communicate which I need to go to the police.  But everything has intensified here, and I haven’t gone out.  I feel too intimidated, embarrassed and confused.

After I posted this, Barack Obama came on and delievered a speech, and he was almost in tears.  I haven’t seen him like that before.  I don’t know if the speech was live or recorded or when it was recorded if it wasn’t live.  I think he knows about me, but that might be just a media illusion, but I don’t think so.  Clare Balding is coupling Ed Byrne’s name with the word ‘dirty’.  I said in a previous post that I like Ed Byrne.  With her ‘yes, that’s right’, at this point today, she is playing medium or healer or charismatic or pentecostal Christian.  I know that charismatic and pentecostal Christians do that a lot.  The first time I knew she was doing that kind of thing, or believed that she was, was at the trooping of the colour televised last year, when she interviewed a couple of little girls and their father.  She spoke to the older girl, who said how proud she was of her father, and she turned away to her little sister and said the horse was a ‘bit of a star’, and I felt it was disapproval and criticism being expressed towards the older girl for being what Clare appeared to think was ‘above herself’.  The older girl had that slightly dazed and surprised look of someone who knows something has just happened, but is not sure what or how, and even if they do know, they can’t address it or challenge it, because it has been put subliminally, it has taken them time to catch up, and the situation has moved on.  Also the person might not acknowledge it, because it was not explicit.  I suppose that is usually why it is not explicit, so that, if challenged, the person doesn’t have to own it.  In physical terms it might be equated to referred pain, and in psychological terms it would be called displacement.

My computer just crashed completely, twice, as I felt spiritually at my most open.  The men on the same programme with Clare, the Oxford/Cambridge boat race, started talking about ‘gut’ and ‘Asus’ (cf previous post on Isus/Jesus), and as I typed this one of the men started doing something with his speech which I have become familiar with in Bulgaria and never noticed anywhere else before I noticed it here, a close approximation on a page would be ‘leraleralera’, mid flow.

If I tried to diarise every instance of what they are doing, I would never be able to stop, because they don’t stop themselves.  One of them has just said ‘soon’, caressing it with his voice, emotionally, and it felt to me like my name.

They just put together ‘experienced crew’ to sound like ‘screw’, ‘took a’, to sound like ‘tuka’, the Bulgarian word for ‘here’, and referred to ‘arms aloft’ which is a familiar attitude of praise and worship in charismatic and pentecostal churches.  Their whole commentary sounded very emotional, I don’t know how much it actually means to them.  But I tend to think the whole thing is displacement and deliberate transference.

My problem with this, even if it is well-intentioned, is that this appears to be all they do, I am not aware of any practical support being given to me, I am left terrified and feeling inadequate and guilty and stupid and incapacitated, and at the end of the day, it has to be illegal harassment.  And if people are thought to be mentally ill and say this kind of thing is happening to them, they are not believed.  I have not been.  Or I have been and people thought it was easier and more convenient to pretend they didn’t believe me so they wouldn’t have to get involved, and keep me in hospital, locked up, drugged and bullied instead.  While this has happened to me and is happening to other people, how can I not say that I believe this is not OK?  Under any circumstances and from any body?

7.13 pm UK I have just told my neighbours, with the help (?) of Google Translate, that my father killed himself when I was 11, dealing with neighbours like them and, I believe, with a situation exactly like this, and that I was going to press for a penalty.  That girl Karin, the young, blonde newsreader, was close to tears while I was sitting watching and observing and hearing all the same stuff as usual and thinking, ‘why am I watching this? – because there is nothing else to watch’, and at the end she surreptitiously touched the desk as she went off (maybe they think it is normal, but I think it is superstitious, and faced it constantly, face to face, while I was going through the mental health system, in the early days, from people, often shop assistants and bar staff, I didn’t even know).  She went out with what looked like a bit of a sneer.

I don’t know if she knows what I have just done, their scripts are regularly peppered with things I have recently said and done, but I don’t know how aware they are as newsreaders.  I suspect they are very aware, but I don’t know.

I had a close friend at school called Karin.  It took me a while to catch up with the fact that this girl now is too young to be her.  If some of them know I suppose they all know, so the only point in naming names and quoting facts is for other people’s information and hopefully for their embarrassment and exposure.

I’m a point of contact.  That is obvious from what I am seeing and hearing on the TV and radio, and the parliament site, and from what people are doing to me here.  The constant vocals and violent banging, the territory marking/taking, the shout and/or bang from upstairs as soon as my TV goes on.

There was a state broadcast on this evening on BBC World News by a woman, which was translated by a man.  It was soon after I put the TV on, and upstairs did their stuff, and I started cooking.  People often pinpoint my activity as I engage in it, and Nik Gowing said, quite pleased-sounding, that what had been on the back burner was now on the front burner.  He draws on my neighbours and makes the situation worse.  When he does it and interferes with my state of consciousness, that is when they start doing what they do.  He is a spiritual and psychological molester.  That is what I know from what he has just done with the no fly zone and how he has used it.  I think he is trying to present himself as someone who has a right to discipline.  And a savage little girl-woman has just come on.  That smile, that ‘look at little girl me’, it’s forced.  It isn’t real, it’s false.

I was in mind mode for this when I started writing.  He deliberately changed it into awe mode.  Changing my mode of consicousness, my appropriate state of consciousness, into wonder, then hitting me with molestation, in a situation he knows is violent, and I know he knows it is violent and illegal because he reads my blog.  Is targeting a member of the public with the practice of spiritualism while appearing just to be presenting a programme, is that also illegal?  I hope so.  The gathering of information must be, even if they have used my family and former teachers, it is stalking, harassment and mobbing in which those people should never have participated.  He has left me feeling I should go to my neighbours.  But all of them, media and my neighbours, are using me as a point of contact with each other, and I have said I won’t validate that.  He said in strict tones something about something being technically outside of the no-fly zone, just after he had done some of this.

During the broadcast I mentioned, the man’s voice was all over the place.  I knew what my neighbours were doing and I challenged it, and they kept changing, and as they did, his voice did as well.  This was during The Hub, Nik Gowing, as I have said.  They have been violent several times today and this afternoon, and I assume she is a witch using hallelujah as a point of contact (maybe that is why the word has become so popular throughout the media and performance world, together with the Harry Potter stuff and all the serious literature aimed at children and teenagers about witchcraft), and that she shouts it out when she feel a loss of control or force or something.  In the end the man’s voice settled into a Bulgarian tone, and the people upstairs started saying ‘yes’ and commenting.

You people must hate me very much to do this to me and to let me be taken advantage of in this way.

I wondered after Nik said something about from back to front burner, who he was informing.  I thought it might be a welcome to me, then I thought, ‘is he telling other media people, including in Bulgaria, so they can get on my case and start putting more stuff out about me?’  I’m not sure which is more likely, I thought the second might be, but I always come back to knowing that it is their medium techniques (for instance, I sent Tommy Boyd some crystals, and there are crystals in the weather report, and the globe looks like lapiz lazuli, which featured in a poem that was in a course taught by my Critical Method lecturer) and that it is wrong.  I’m wondering if Tommy passed them on to someone like Derek Acorah, whom I have met, even though I have made it clear that I am anti-spiritualism.  One of the things I had sent to him, which I bought new from Ebay, it was received and signed for, but he didn’t acknowledge it and I emailed him saying please acknowledge it or send it back, but he did neither.  He knew I wasn’t happy about him keeping it without acknowledging it, and I have often thought since then that it was being used as a point of contact.  In recent years I never even thought about it on the odd occasion I phoned his show, and he asked me my name, every time.  I’m not sure if that was on his mind.  I just wanted to talk to him on his show.  I only phoned when engaged and friendly was what was in my mind.  When I phoned in I was never even thinking about taking him to task about anything off-air, though I suppose now that I could have asked him if he had received it and if he liked it or something, but I had dismissed it ages ago and decided I was happy to let him have it and keep it on any terms.  If keep it he did.

Nik said it was The Hub, and in light of all this I thought, ‘no, it isn’t, this is, so the name of the programme is just another point of contact’.  It was a realisation which registered with Mr Gowing, his body language and facial expression changed, and he looked pained and afraid, and I felt betrayed and he seemed to register that and interpret it as love, which I suppose it is.  I know how stupid and false I sound, I am furiously angry and suffering badly from false guilt and fear, of what my neighbours seem able and prepared to do, and also what the authorities, albeit illegally, might do and how they might treat me, suffering as I am from stalking and other people’s exercise of witchcraft and spiritualism against me while I am vulnerable.  I’m writing this, I believe it is what I have learned in Church, maybe developed a bit, I’m not sure, but while I’ve been writing I’ve been thinking I should drop the pretence, apologise to my neighbours and deal with my psychological problems, if any remain after doing the first two things.  They are working as a team against me, vocally, and every time my eyes open (I do mean my physical eyes, as I go focussed at something, she utters a dark and angry and terrifying sound.  The rest of the neighbours are just keeping quiet, for the most time.  Tonight they have been a bit more vocal.  But they don’t do anything, they just complain.  They don’t, as far as I know, go to the police, but they know I want them to.

He turned away, at which point I dropped my guard a little or was a little less attentive, and when he turned back he walked strongly, like big cat, up on the camera.  I had someone do that to me before, years ago.  It seemed to be about inhibiting and taking control.

When I think, she speaks.  It is as if she is a medium or something, and deliberately voicing vibrations.  That is the only thing that fits for me.  Unless she is deliberately putting out menacing sounds into the air and into my ears.  She sounds as if she is droning.  She has all sorts of tones and registers she employs, which might not mean anything in itself.  When I try to break it in writing, my browser crashes.  Also, I have to sign in to WordPress manually all the time at the moment, in spite of the fact that I tick the remember me box and don’t normally have to bother.  It’s like swatting flies and dealing with constant playground squabbles.  They demand my attention, literally, and I fail to give it to more urgent things.  While I am dealing with stuff on my doorstep, sometimes I even forget the more urgent things.

I’m not a witch, though the abuse and betrayal from the church make it hard for me to feel sorry for what I did that made them call me one.  But I think they were calling me one before that anyway.  I’m a person who feels constantly embarrassed, and afraid to go out, for fear of possible violence or because I feel worked over from what has been happening while I have been at home. 

I have nowhere to go with this.  How can I go to the police and say that I am being harassed by people using spiritualism?  The people involved would probably lie anyway, even if the police took it seriously.

I don’t want to go to the church, because my idea at first was to take my stand with other unwilling psychiatric patients, and the church encourages people to think of people with problems or who they don’t know how to help or who they don’t like, perhaps, in psychiatric terms, and church leaders force the issue, from the platform, in a way which is torturous at times, and deliberately so, which is something I know from my own experience.  No, psychiatry is not for me, neither are church leaders and ministers who insist on making me see things that way, and making other people see me that way.  That is where I stand.  My mind is being so messed with I’m losing my certainty over whether it is the only place I can stand.  The banging violence and the verbal violence and hatred.  It doesn’t have to be in the words, it is all in the tone.  Hallelujah hasn’t worked, all day, and resulted in peace, so she has gone back to  occultic control and hatred.  Every day the same.  I think they hold a seance over me.  From their actions, they might just as well be doing that, even if they aren’t.

My church leaders know that is why I don’t go back to church, as well as the fact that I don’t want to validate their stalking,  They use my blog all the time, weave with it and mock me with it and appeal with it, anything but make a proper and open approach.  But they still use my stuff, and anything else they can pick up from whatever stalking methods they use.  I’ve apologised for what I can apologise for, to my church leaders, and I keep saying my church leaders, because I want to be there, it is what I have known most of my life, but I am serious about the psychiatry thing.  So what I am saying is, there doesn’t seem to be anyone I can turn to.

They have used my music – Osho, Michael Mish – they like the rhythms, they tried to replicate them in their services, in a very obvious way.  I’m not sure how much they got off my computer and how much they heard from the local black church a very few doors away.  To know the names of the artists I would have thought they lifted it directly from my computer.  They have known about telephone and email communication as well, quoting it.  I sent something to Michael Mish in an email once and Kensington Temple commented on it, and gave the impression that Michael had said it was toxic, or something like that.  It was part of the Apostles’ Creed, or Nicene Creed, I wanted to know what he thought.  I assumed at the time that they must have been bugging his phone or computer, if he used Skype.  I get confused sometimes because John Pantry, at least, likes to present him as being under the covering of the church, and he also does that with Tommy Boyd.  Me, I’m just a standalone which probably no one is interested in.

I went out in my garden once, one Sunday morning or afternoon, once I had got round to feeling able to deal with someone in order to get it cleared and turf laid, and discovered that the local black church, The House Of Bread, was singing all the songs that I played on my CDs and sang to in my flat.  I didn’t know until then.  I thought that must be why there was so much of a problem between me and my neighbours.  I had never really been out to hear it before, but all my neighbours were telling their children to go indoors.  I was out on my lawn, with my door open, playing some of my own music from the lounge, but to hear what was coming from the church the music must have been turned off or something, or maybe that day I was reading a book.

I need to go shopping.  I feel like an occult prisoner.  I can’t get myself out of the door, feeling able to cope with it.  If I focus, my neighbours start their stuff.

I had a ring at my door about 20 minutes ago.  I felt nervous and defiant for a second and almost didn’t answer.  Then I thought it might be the postman, so I picked up my intercom phone and answered.  I said ‘hello’, 3 times, and there was no response.  Realistically I suspect it was my harassing neighbours, who shout and hallelujah and screw their voices round to ghostly and tap over my apartment, and worse, when I challenge them.

I was also afraid it might be the police, who might have come on the strength of what they have been told about my recent responses to the harassment, which have been desperate and unpleasant.  Every time I try mentally to break the feeling of my neighbours’ control and think for myself, she goes ‘hallelujah’ today, in a way which goes straight to my stomach.  As I said yesterday, people on UK news programmes are imitating them and me, and I think they are latching on to each other for control.  I’ve wonderd where they have got some of their information from, on BBC World News, and have thought perhaps my neighbours are recording it and passing it on.  It’s a good impression with some of the content. But my neighbours keep doing this spiritualistic stuff which is harassment, and are they also passing stuff on to the media, who got them started in the first place?  I know they did, because of what they were saying and dumb-showing.

Anyway, within 5 minutes of my doorbell ringing, I had an email land in my spam folder, claiming to be an invitation from an organisation called ‘Someone2Do’.  Police do people, right?  Who is responsible for this?  I get a lot of situationally and relationally relevant emails like this and have for years.

I get really afraid and desperate.  Am I the only person who can understand why and doesn’t think it is abnormal that I should or a sign of mental illness?  People have been insisting for years that it is a sign of mental illness.  i think it is a sign of some sort of gang or mafia type stalking, if not government.  You say this kind of thing and media people always treat it as a joke and the person who thinks it as crazy.  But a lot of people know it is anything but, so what do these people have to hide that they consistently treat it and us with anger and intimidation and contempt and ridicule?  The woman on now has just said ‘our team’ like RT, as in R T Kendall.  Sophie someone, one of the many Sofie’s who has come out since I have been in Bulgaria (Sofia is the capital of Bulgaria).

Edit note:  While I was writing this someone started with a drill upstairs.  I’m wondering now if it was him come to explain that he was doing some work.  But no one answered my door when I answered the bell.  It isn’t OK.

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