Tag Archive: police
https://www.gotquestions.org/Proverbs-26-4-5.html
I found the article above on these verses and I suppose it is fairly typical of the answers that would be given. When I was at Bible college Elmer Darnall said the best way to approach answering a problem or question is to preface your answer with ‘it seems to me’, I suppose so as not to be dogmatic and unreasonable. I try to follow that. When I say ‘it seems to me’ I am doing the exact opposite of assuming a position of authority.
I’ve had an awful day today, though, and I was lying upset and terrified in bed. Terrified of the prospect of possible further torture, as the UN calls forced psychiatry, at the hands of the mental health services, terrified of the way people in my community, including professionals, are treating me, many of them knowing I have a mental health diagnosis they can call on at any time, knowing that I fear that. That is torture in itself. I feel as if people are trying to brainwash me and I find my thinking in crisis.
I think people apply these verses as and when they see fit, for the most part, and that there is no fixed agreement on when to use one or the other. Play it by ear and intuition, I really think must be the way it is done. But tonight I thought the ‘it seems to me’ approach really needs to be backed up by a good body of wisdom and understanding – but again, whose wisdom? I was wondering about the wisdom at the time and in the tradition it was written, that might be the first port of call. But it seems to me that the original wisdom is not automatically the best wisdom for all time, though it must be interesting at least.
I was thinking about terrorism and suicide bombing and stuff and I thought of these verses and thought I had been a fool thinking I was being wise. That answering a fool according to his folly in a situation like that might mean opposing and frustrating and arresting and even, in some people’s opinion, imposing the death penalty. And if someone in the street has a gun then the police should shoot to kill, it must mean. That’s what I was thinking.
Then I thought about things I have heard about Gandhi and his policy of passive resistance and I thought it couldn’t be that simple. But how do you use passive resistance when dealing with suicide bombings and all that? Maybe I have an incomplete understanding of Gandhi’s position. And OK, back to me, do people like me need to have our computers hacked and lives stalked and harassed so we learn to think right, responsibly and wisely? I’ve been thinking all this hacking, it’s like the wild west with computers instead of guns. I believe at least one of my neighbours is hacking my computer because I believe I have heard many instances of reaction to what I have been writing or reading. This stuff that I and the UN call torture, is it necessary to bring people to their right minds? Am I being alternately answered and not answered according to my folly? Not answered by being ignored, answered by being subjected to all the stuff I’ve just talked about? If I am as wrong as some people seem to want to make out, have I lost my right to be taken seriously and treated equitably?
I wrote to the police on 18th August, following the Barcelona bombing. I’m still waiting for a reply. I put in a complaint to the IPCC a day or two ago about the fact they haven’t contacted me yet. People who have read some of my recent posts will understand why I might have done this and I’m not going into all that again, I couldn’t cope.
People approach me surreptitiously and skirt around stuff. Last Saturday I was in town and a community officer was walking towards me with what felt to me like an assumed nonchalance and I thought, ‘Oh yes? Let’s see where this is going’. I felt his attention towards me, even though he seemed to be trying not to appear to be addressing himself to me. As he got near where I was standing at the bus stop he drew up close and touched his radio then touched his ear, like a coded action. I just stood there, I didn’t react, just took it in, and when he got past me he cleared his throat, it seemed to me in annoyance or frustration. So I, without doing it in his face, went, ‘ahem to you, too’. He didn’t look round. The bus came almost immediately and as it turned the corner I saw him standing making notes.
Is this normal procedure in a case like mine? No direct approach, just signals you’re expected to follow or be broken by the ‘consequences’ of not doing?
Later I was in Tesco’s. A couple of men were behind me on the escalator and I felt they were after my attention. When I started trying to disengage myself from hearing them one of them said something about a ‘big fashion thing’ in a way that sounded to me like a ‘big fat thing’, and he quickly followed it up by making a strong reference to his wife Sue. At the bottom of the escalator I said, ‘oh yes, very interesting, who are you, then?’, and they looked sheepish and embarrassed and sidled off. This sort of thing has happened to me before. I said a while ago that when I was staying in a hotel I was out in the street one day and decided to stop walking, feeling driven, and just stand still, and after a couple of seconds a man I didn’t know drew up to me and without looking at me or stopping said, ‘hi, Sue’, then carried on walking without looking back. I think I recognise it when it is happening. If these people were police, was I wrong not to try and co-operate?
Something else, too. This thing some people seem to have about telling stories instead of making reasoned and reasonable approaches. It seems to me that if you think you need to tell a story to reach a person or know them, you are setting yourself up as some sort of authority whose terms are more important than the person you are using the story on. The story says, ‘it’s like this’, or the story teller tries to say that with the story, whereas the hearer might not agree, and it seems to me it is quite patronising to ‘try to get through’ to a person that way instead of dealing with actualities and entering into a communication based on equality and clarity. What happens of the person you want to see the point of your story interprets it completely differently and wishes you would just be up front because you are confusing them and making them feel guilty for ‘not getting it’ or not being prepared to get it? Does that mean the person has a bad heart? Maybe the story teller has a bad heart, if they won’t communicate accountably. A story teller examines the hearer, as much as anything else. That seems to me to be an arrogant and/or fear based position to take. Not quite ready to deal with things, not willing to be challenged and questioned.
Man, I need to sleep. Shouldn’t they make a formal and explicit approach? Or is it different when dealing with something like I’ve been talking about? It makes ME feel foolish and that I am making myself vulnerable to mental health interventions by being explicit when no one is making a response to anything I have said in a way that I have been prepared to recognise and validate.
Following my email to John Pantry yesterday, today’s Premier Christian Radio’s ‘Inspirational Breakfast’ is not available. This has happened at times that seemed significant to me before, often, and sometimes most of the station’s shows have been not available for days at a time.
One of the verses in the Bible I sometimes feel shamed by is in Proverbs where it says:
Like a gold ring in a pig’s snout
Is a beautiful woman without discretion
I’m sure it is one of the verses I was brought up on in my teens in the Pentecostal Church in the 70s, just as significant women’s rights legislation was coming into being. Maybe it is right that I should feel shamed by it. Maybe being a beautiful, quiet, submissive woman with a sweet voice is the way to go. Never speaking up in time, always seeing and having my own communication ruled by a larger perspective, more responsible, loving and peace-seeking. Always allowing others the space they need to build their own barriers, make their own decisions unchallenged, un-nagged, unbetrayed. I think this is seen, uniquely, as a feminine virtue, or sin if you fail, even now, in the kind of Church I have spent my life in since 12 years old, that I felt a bit bullied into not leaving because they had the truth. And actually, I am sure they did.
After I sent my email yesterday lunchtime I was in a taxi on the way to the railway station and a police car passed in front of us horizontally on the road we were approaching, with quite a few other cars in between us. I felt a bit awkward and looked away instinctively but before I did I am sure the driver looked into the taxi and looked at me and raised his hand to me in acknowledgement. I don’t know why, I had asked John to reply or to pass it on to someone he thought should. I can’t explain it, believing everything I have believed about what has been happening to me over the years. Then coming home last night, at about 9.30 pm in the station, there was a young police officer in a helmet who I think was on a mobile phone or something. As soon as I saw him he turned his back abruptly, though not aggressively or in anger, as far as I could tell. It confused me as to what I was supposed to do about it, I wanted to approach him and talk to him. A feeling of faith said it would have been the right thing to do. But I didn’t, I continued walking.
The Manchester ‘suicide bombing’ was on the same date as the 45th anniversary of my father’s so-called suicide. Any readers of my blog may remember that I have drawn attention to such coincidences before. Another was the bomb a few years ago now, near an Osho ashram just after I started listening to Osho recordings on Napster and, it seemed to me and I’m sure it was, Kensington Temple started matching their rhythms which were, ordinarily, very different from their own. My email to John Pantry yesterday was in response to the fact that, at least in the last half hour of the show on 23rd May, the day following the Manchester bombing, their extremely ‘narrowcast’ appeal to me seemed to be quite obvious. Even though I think they have always ignored every other coincidence I have talked about over the years, this time they seemed quite urgent, and have done ever since. I wrote some emails to him several years ago which he didn’t answer, I suppose because he found them angry and disrespectful, saying I thought what they were doing to me was dishonest and a human rights abuse and for that reason I didn’t really want to put myself back in a Church. Yesterday I said that hadn’t really changed.
Except in my feelings, in my fears, in my beliefs about what I am forever forfeiting in terms of relationship by writing this kind of blog post, that isn’t true. Quite a few times over the last few months John has used a prayer saying may we bow to God in true repentance and to each other in true forgiveness, and that has felt like a plea and an invitation to me, as if they are honouring me with it, and I am betraying them and my own heart, soul and spirit by perversely and unreasonably declining the invitation. I often see myself at the moment as being, and as having been for many years, proud, and I think I will be seen that way. I think I am doing tremendous damage to any hopes of reconciliation by writing this blog post, that I am wrong and consequently I am destroying all possibility that they will ever trust me. I often have absolutely no confidence in the position I have taken or in the way I am and have been trying to work it out.
Also last night I went into a pub in town for a drink while I waited for my next bus which was half an hour off. I approached the bar and one of the staff I had spoken to in the past was right in front of me and completely ignored me, so I didn’t say anything either. Then another of the staff, a man who I think was off duty, said something about ‘parrot now’, and I was sure it was code for me to hear as ‘paranoid’, which made me feel shocked, offended and disempowered as it was nothing acknowledged and probably wouldn’t have been if I had said anything. I sat upset and uncomfortable the whole time I was there. thinking about it. At one point I thought, maybe they are right, maybe I am being paranoid, and I sort of smiled, at which point the girl behind the bar looked at me in a way which made me think she was thinking, ‘there you are, you see, it’s all in your mind, we are right’, without making the connection that they had actually put it out there in the first place. You can’t do anything in that kind of situation. And the more I thought about it the worse it seemed to me. I was being picked on like this in a pub which calls itself a ‘safe space’ for vulnerable people, has street pastors operating. What can you do, what can you say? A ‘safe space’, but won’t leave you alone and respect your privacy if, somehow, you seem not to conform or make an effort to connect in the way they seem to want you to if they set out to ignore you and perceive the responsibility as being on you? At the end of the day, for most customers, it’s just a pub!!!! NOT an exclusive club with membership rules and requirements on either party. You don’t have relationship commitments in a city pub -or has all that changed? Anyway . . . . Not the point of this post – originally.
PS OK, ignore the original basis of this post. In the last 1½ hours, somewhere between noon and now, Inspirational Breakfast has become available. But usually it is made available by about 9.15 am, so everything I have said remains relevant. I’m not hedging it about with ‘I believes’ and ‘in my opinions’: I only do that to keep the psychiatric team off of me. I’m sure they still read my blog. The only thing they ever commit to is labelling and coercive treatment. If I’m wrong, I’m wrong. It’s not a crime, it’s not a sign of mental illness, and I’m not drawing up a contract or deposition. Shame on the system that has, for years, had me afraid to be definite without allowing a possibility that I might be wrong. I have not seen them allowing for a possibility that they might be wrong with me or anyone else. Funny, that, isn’t it? Psychiatry, and other powers and authorities, can’t be wrong.
Just a quick one, this, I don’t have time for more at the moment.
I was coming home from the supermarket at around 8:30 pm, and a little WPC was coming towards me, so I said a friendly hello, and she said hello. At least, I think that’s how it went. Then I said, ‘I wish I could trust you guys, I’m in awful trouble, but every time I try and tell you you put me in a mental hospital’. She said, ‘That’s not very good, is it?’. I said, ‘No, it’s not, I think it’s corruption.’, and she said, ‘well, you just keep smiling, and we won’t put you in a mental hospital.’.
Excuse me??????????????????????????
I said ‘thanks for your concern’, sarcastically, obviously, and she said, ‘that’s OK’, and I said ,’yeah, right’, and walked on, and she turned off. Unfortunately I didn’t get her name and number. I think if someone says something like that to them they deserve to be taken seriously, however they present.
22 months ago I was on Glyn y Mul Farm campsite for a week, in Aberdulais near Neath in Wales. It was only a week because it went badly wrong. I had hoped it was going to be OK, it seemed as if it might be. I was on my own. The first night I slept in the cabin where the staff work because I didn’t have a tent until it was delivered, then they lent me a tent which I used for a few days. The staff seemed friendly enough, except for the fact that one of them, Mark, every time he appeared, was effing and blinding in front of me. The old man touched me. I kept quiet about it at first, because I wasn’t sure if I should be offended or not. Also, there was a washroom which was open to the outside in that it had nothing up at the window to shield users from people walking past, and several times when I was using it the men found a reason to walk past.
Eventually I got my tent and one of the staff put it up for me. He was an eastern European, I can’t remember where from. But I found at bedtime that I couldn’t zip up the flap and it was frosty, and because I didn’t want to bother anyone with it late in the evening it stayed open all night and the frost got inside. I had a very cold night’s sleep.
When I emerged the next day I met Ian, the campsite owner, in the kitchen, and he asked me if everything was all right. I said no, I couldn’t zip my tent up, and also told him that Ted, the old man, had touched me. His response was that if I was saying that, I should leave as soon as possible. I didn’t realise he meant immediately until he snatched my tea out of my hand and started forcing me off the stool I was sat on. I had thought he might mean in a couple of days, to at least give me time to sort myself out. I had bought a fair bit of camping equipment a day or two before and I had no transport of my own. But he grabbed me by the arm and started forcing me out of the kitchen and into Ted, who was standing there, and he fell over. Ian started accusing me of pushing him down, I said I had been pushed into him, Ian said he had 3 people there who had seen nothing. He kept pushing and pulling at me, calling me a disgraceful woman and telling me not to go back there. He said I was now homeless and owned nothing. The things I had bought I had bought with money my uncle had lent me.
I went to the police (Ian is an ex-policeman) and they kept me ages. All the time I was giving a statement they were talking and jeering in the next room. I had gone to the wrong area and they found a hotel for me overnight and told me to go back to Neath the next day. I can’t remember, I don’t think I did, not to the police station anyway. I was too intimidated. Ian’s handling of me left a big bruise on the inside of my forearm which took 3 weeks to fade. I emailed them twice about my belongings but they didn’t reply. When I called it theft to the police they said that technically it wasn’t theft. Regardless of police technicalities, of course it was theft. They deprived me of all my belongings which I had had with me at the time – clothes, mobile phone, books, food, all my camping equipment – because I, a woman on my own and vulnerable, told an ex-policeman that one of his staff had touched me and I had expected proper treatment instead of what I got. That was a bent copper. Also it was an appalling way for a commercial enterprise to deal with any complaint, let alone one of this nature. They will have other women and children there, yet they dealt with me like this.
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.
I was told this morning that my key nurse has been changed. i said I was a bit disappointed that what I had said in anger had been so quickly acted on without talking to me about it. I was told it was an overall decision that couldn’t be gone into that much. I wonder if all the changes I have had over the last 17 years have been as a result of decisions of the same nature.
I found out because I asked to speak to my new key nurse not knowing she was my new key nurse. I wanted to tell her that while I didn’t want to be churlish about not seeing my psychiatrist today, if the only reason she wanted to see me was because I had requested a sleeping tablet to be prescribed for me I had rather leave it. I said that I was concerned that I had had no structured support since I was assaulted and no one had really asked how I was in connection with it. I said that I had even been left to myself to decide whether or not I wanted to involve the police, and that since I am meant to be mentally ill I might not be in the best state of mind to decide for myself, and that it had happened on their premises and the woman was in their care, not mine, and that I am also in their care. I said this is not a one off thing and that I have said things of this nature are happening to me in the community but what I have said has been put down to schizophrenia. I said I didn’t want to talk to my psychiatrist hoping and believing that she might soften and modify her position in light of what has happened and that the effort should not be having to come from me putting myself in that supplicatory position with an authority figure who might remain distressingly adamant. I said it should be being treated as an emergency, extraordinary event and that there should be some form of trauma counselling. I said there had been a witness, as it seemed that this was not known, I was being told that I had said it happened and they had seen the bruising, but it is far too casual. I’m hoping that on Saturday, when the police come, they will be wanting to take a swab or whatever it is called from my clothing to establish a shoe came into contact with my stomach. Dr Bradshaw was in the office a couple of days ago when I mentioned it, but her only concern appeared to be that she should see me about the sleeping tablet. On reflection, she might have been concerned but be trying to maintain confidentiality, but it seems to me to have been a little too opaque. But perhaps I should go back for the review, I don’t know.
I was shocked and didn’t believe it when my nurse told me there was no provision for trauma counselling as such. She said I was seeing my psychologist anyway and didn’t seem to pick up that this was a separate event and should have been treated as an emergency. It also didn’t seem to make an impression that I said the next time I am due to see him is on the 27th as he is on leave for 2 weeks. She said this is an acute ward and things like this happen, I said yes, but I’m a person, not theory.
I asked her as well, as an adult, that since in any other abusive situation I would be able to take myself out of it, how did it stand in law under a section 3 when I am being abused in an environment where I am supposed to be receiving care, what were my rights. She asked if I meant being moved to another ward and I said no, there is no guarantee that it won’t happen there as well. In fact as far as both staff and patients are concerned it has always happened wherever I have been. I think my experience as a patient in this setting is not unusual.
I can’t afford to keep going out for something to eat but I don’t like having meals there anymore, I feel harassed and intimidated. Kerry went to the hatch effing and shitting and no one pulled her up about it. If it had been me it would have been different. I’m feeling too much guilt about a supposed lack of gratitude on my part when all I really have here, apart from a duty not to be abusive without provocation, when It just comes out sometimes because I am upset and tired and stupid, is rights, a right to protection, a right to respect, which includes a right to be believed, in my opinion . . . .
What actually happened yesterday was that Kerry had been vocally trolling me all weekend. She said I was full of myself as well. One of her friends said I had deserved it when something happened, either that I was forcibly medicated or dragged out of the dining room by staff (I wonder if Kerry knows that I am virtually a Londoner?), and yesterday she was sat outside on the pavement near the doors smoking with Sa and Re, and I passed them to go out and said see you to Sa and Re but not to Kerry. She took exception to that andsaid something about carrying on like that and I told her what someone associated with my care had told me, that staff on the ward had listened to things I had said and tried to make changes, i told her I had been there 3 months and that many changes for the better had happened because I had fought for them for people like her, and she started doing a really horrible voice at me and I spat in her direction twice. I was nowhere near her and it had no hope of reaching and obviously wasn’t intended to. She got up and said I would run away then asked if I was spitting at her and I said yes, and waited as she approached, and she kicked me in the lower abdomen. Someone was passing that I asked to be a witness and she agreed and she got kicked in the ribs, but we both went back to the ward to report it. If this woman had not been passing I don’t know what I would have done. So that is the whole story.
I’ve called this ‘Pastiche’ because i wanted to mention a few things. I thought there were four but I can only remember three at the moment. I’ve already covered the first.
When all this started with the mental health system, after my first admission I came back to Nottingham and spent a while with my uncle and going to Church at Talbot Street. One day in London I bought a card intended for David Shearman’s birthday, a card with dolphins on. I can’t remember if I sent it or not. It was in Victoria Station in London, in the days before they had any public seating, and I was feeling beaten up and exhausted. I bought a bag of fruit and nuts and sat on the floor in front of a store, and I was approached by security guards who tried to move me on. I said I was tired and didn’t want to move. Eventually the police were called and it was quite nasty and when I got to the London Transport Police Station I was met by this oldish officer and I was really upset and I told him I hadn’t even been told my rights and he took me by the hair and told me I didn’t have any. I was sobbing loudly in the cell and when I was released the officer who let me out told me it would be all right.
The other thing I wanted to mention was a girl who was on the ward here, this time around, called Michelle. She hardly ever spoke at first and when she did start speaking she was quite aggressive, but in the first place i took to her because, as I told Terry, she reminded me of a woman who tried to get close to me when I was working as a volunteer at an HIV respite care centre. This woman did not have long to live and I left shortly before she was expected to die. After talking to Terry about it I felt horrified that I had basically walked out on a dying woman that had warmed to me enough to move from a little suspicion to coming to sit next to me, without speaking, if I came in and sat down. I can’t express the depth of horror and shame I felt as I saw it that way, just about three months ago.
I have my radio on sometimes in the evening and on two nights Michelle, who I didn’t know was the woman next door to me at the time, banged violently on the wall, and I was afraid because I didn’t know who it was. When I found out sometimes I would vent in my room if I thought she was disturbing me in any way, and I would vent at her. So I had gone from being friendly and saying hello even though I got nothing back to being verbally angry with her. Sometimes she barged into me in the kitchen and started shouting at me. She was verbally and physically aggressive to other patients as well, and one day I heard a nurse telling her about her behaviour and she didn’t want the police back. I can’t remember if this was the day she was being generally aggressive and she ended up coming to me and spitting on my hand. I was so locked up in myself at the time, so depressed, I didn’t feel anything in particular, I just looked and ignored it. I wasn’t offended, in fact I felt a bit relieved. I have thought about it over the past 24 hours and realised again, if not for the first time, that that meant I meant something to her, she was angry and she spat at me. Later on that day or the next I wanted to say to her ‘thank you for spitting at me, I deserved it, and if you feel you want to spit at me again any other time you have my permission, and I won’t retaliate’. I struggled with that all week, and I never said it, and then she disappeared. I feel i failed her. I keep thinking she must have gone to a more secure place or something and that if I had just dared to be vulnerable enough I could have helped her. I feel really upset about that, and it isn’t a distress I feel proud of. I failed her, and I resisted God.
Definitely for the first time in the last 24 hours I thought about the phrase ‘hatred is the flip side of love’. During that period my thinking has been, accurately or not, that that phrase is seen as negative but it could be seen positively and it would be more helpful if it were. She spat at me = she loved me, she trusted me. She kicked me in the stomach = she was angry and disappointed because she had a need or positive expectation that wasn’t met. I heard J John use ‘AHEN’ as an acronym for tracing anger back to its root. Behind anger is hurt, hurt comes out of an unmet expectation, and expectation comes out of need, in this progression. Part of me wants Kerry punished, the other part doesn’t. But I have little hope for the relationship. I am tired and cannot cope with her needs. It is possible that I am interpreting her craziness as a deliberate attack on me rather than an attempt to help herself, which it might be.
What I do find difficult about patient confidentiality is that it does separate people who would be friends, sometimes. You’re not sure what is what most of the time. It leads to a psychological isolation if you don’t or don’t want to trust or validate the staff approach or system. Can do, if you are someone like me in my position, anyway, but for the rest of us as well, I am sure.
Here is the fourth thing I was thinking of. There was something on radio 4 this afternoon on the afternoon play that reminded me a lot of Tommy Boyd on the radio. I was thinking last night that I wanted to be welcomed back into the fold and that I wanted Tommy to be the one who did it.
I am feeling very soft and vulnerable at the moment, but also angry, possibly, but i find myself wanting to get on with staff and even validating what they have done, and I’m just not sure. The Bible says let a righteous man strike me it is a kindness. What does that mean, is it right, or was it just a depressed king talking rubbish? Listening to Tommy Boyd led me to want different forms of child discipline than smacking, so how can it be right for me as an adult, the restraints, forced medication, etc. Joseph said to his brothers ‘you meant it for evil, but God meant it for good’, but this is supposed to be meant for good. I’m sorry, I’m so tired and I feel very tearful. Probably over-impressed with the depth of my perceptions in this post. Crying over what a precious and deep person I am. That’s better, that has made me smile. What has made me smile? The thought that Terry might read this. I stare at him sometimes and I think it makes him feel awkward, and I don’t like that. I told someone the other day that when I stare at him like that it is because I think he is beautiful at that moment and I am awestruck. Suck on that one, Tel! 🙂 Much obeisance. Much love.
I heard a story recently about a policeman who exposed his colleagues for mistreating someone in a cell, later being dragged into a van by other policemen, twice, and being kicked and beaten. I wonder how many so-called good cops are prepared to take that risk? I want to believe there are some.
I just thought, while having my almost 0% protein content lunch: If they can tell me that hostels here are bad, why can’t (or won’t) they ‘believe’ me when I say what has been happening to me in the community – why do they maintain that what was happening to me there, and the way the council and the police dealt with it, weren’t bad, but a product of ‘my mental illness’?
Are things only bad if judged so out of the minds and mouths of these dubious professionals? One of them even said to me that the police are a law to themselves. It is difficult for me to know with any certainty if there is anything to choose between these two bodies of professionals with regard to that.
At my appeal the other day they were saying that I wrote ‘derogatory’ remarks about the staff. Isn’t it hard not to?
Yesterday was really unsettled here and a nurse interrupted my time with another nurse to say they needed to be out there and seen. The tv room was the point of conflagration and congregation.
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.
On Wednesday it was reported on Radio 4 that around 100 police statements were altered following the Hillsborough disaster and the situation was made to look like the fault of the public rather than the police. Someone speaking on Radio 4 said that they did not normally believe conspiracy theories but that this time it was evident.
But that fact has taken all these years to be established and be reported.
To me it seems reasonable to believe that there are many other conspiracy theories which are equally true, including the conspiracy of the mental health system and its brutal approach to helping people to deal with their mental health problems, relationship problems, emotional problems.
I say therapy which is therapy is consenting, and nothing involuntary can fit that description or be ultimately therapeutic (unless it is shock therapy or reality therapy, but then is it really therapy, or just more repression/suppression and ‘learning your lesson’?).
Twenty-three years after Hillsborough this has come out, though the event is over and done with. For people enmeshed in the mental health system it is ongoing and some do not survive. People have been killed by inappropriate restraint methods and application, as well as by death at their own hands for others, preferring, I suppose, to die at their own hands rather than to keep going through the seemingly endless cycle of crisis and hospital admissions where the facts they know of their lives, better than the mental health service staff do, are often invalidated and contradicted by the insistence on a mental health diagnosis.
I have recently felt hopeless and helpless and that, if I were a different person, I might kill myself rather than continue to go through this cycle. I did deliberately overdose once, in 2003. I took almost 100 paracetamol and lay down to sleep, not caring whether I woke or not. I woke and stumbled into the kitchen and vomited. The church I was going to at the time didn’t know this, but it was just before I was confirmed. I ended up in hospital on a drip.
I have heard since Wednesday another programme on Radio 4 talking about the IPCC (Independent Police Complaints Commission) and the experience of some that it has failed to deliver for them. I have only approached them about one thing and I didn’t follow it through to the end. I tried, but the police service was not very co-operative and I ended up leaving it because of other more immediate pressures.
I spoke to one of the nurses recently and told her that the support I needed was legal support in the community when situations arose which I had not contributed to in the locality and which were a disturbance to me. I mentioned that the police are supposed to do something after the third report from one individual, and she said that what they did would not necessarily be what the individual wanted and that they would not necessarily interpret the situation as the individual did. She also said that the police are a law to themselves, a statement which could be interpreted her evasion of the issue, among other possibilities.
A few thoughts:
Coercive medicine is totalitarianism. In itself and perhaps an expression of political or ideological totalitarianism and dictatorship. In spite of all our fine words about freedom and a free society. In practice it is not true.
Maintenance of the status quo. I was thinking that policing approaches a person and a problem according to the way an area is generally defined and operates. So rather than deal with violence and harassment and hate crime in what they have decided already is a rough area, they will just take out the person complaining.
However, in my case, after phoning the beat officer several times as instructed on my first approach to an officer who seemed very kind and reasonable, a message was left on my phone offering an appointment that I missed because of the way the welcome to messages was set up. I got the impression from the company’s message that, before I could pick up my messages, I had to first input my name and other information vocally, and I didn’t want to do it at home and didn’t get round to it anywhere else, so I didn’t pick up the message offering me an appointment for the previous Sunday until I was in hospital, and after that nothing happened, I didn’t follow it up.
I was wondering if an individual has to be ‘part’ of something in the area to be taken seriously.
I’m in a different Caffe Nero today. I’m wondering if staff in these places always set out to dominate, or run riot, with loud twittering and miaowing. It is a great shame, they offer something which they sabotage and make unusable, at least for me. Maybe they deliberately try to provoke me for the name check. I think I have seen Coppelia use her face and eyes more naturally.
I always feel I have to be careful what I let myself be provoked into saying in hospital. I feel as if they will use anything to get people back on a section. I speak and the staff stop speaking in a straight line – some of them, anyway. It isn’t only the staff that are entitled to be safe at their place of work, we the users are also, but most of us feel that as soon as we become subject to them we are not safe. It feels like ‘no anger/negativity (from you) we’re bulies/too insecure’.
She keeps screaming hallelujah, day and night, several times a minute during the day, they are violent . . . talk about deja vu! I’ve written to the council.
Guess who is feeling responsible again?
Someone knocked on my door this afternoon. Twice. It was an official-sounding knock but no one spoke or announced themselves, so I don’t know who it was. I’ve decided not to do deja vu on the way I treat knocks at the door. If they don’t announce themselves as police I won’t automatically assume they are or act out of a knee jerk feeling that they are. I’ve decided not to answer the door if I’m not expecting anyone and I don’t know who it is. If they say they are the police I will answer, but I am still nervous. I never know what decisions they are going to make about me and I am scared.
They can hear my radio when I have it on, a small DAB radio. She hallelujahs at the end of every song, and every time a song mentions baby they are they conferring together saying ‘hmm, yes’. I’m trying not to panic, but in the circumstances it is hard. I’m more afraid of the authorities than I am of them.
I’ve got temporary council housing in Nottingham. I’ve been in it for 2 weeks, I don’t know if they are going to house me permanently and if it would mean a change of address if they do. I’ve been under pressure to collect my belongings for ages and have just learned that an estimate given by a removal man’s business friend in storage was very underestimated. I was violently ejected off a campsite in Wales by an ex-police owner. Almost 3 weeks later and the bruise on the inside of my arm is almost vanished. My uncle lent me money which I decided to use for breathing space rather than make a decision under pressure to enter into a contract. The campsite owner kept all my belongings and the camping equipment I had just bought, saying I didn’t own anything anymore. I think I left with just the clothes I had on. I had told him that one of his staff had touched me and been harassing me, and instead of dealing with it responsibly and professionally, he dealt with it that way. I’ve asked twice for a social worker and heard nothing. The council here knows what is happening, I have told them.
All told I feel sick with apprehension and embarrassment. I reported the campsite incident to the police in Swansea, under the misapprehension that Neath came under Swansea. All told I was there from around 4pm to around 11.30pm, and while I was in the interview room I was treated like a circus act and barracked and heckled from officers in nearby rooms, and they were laughing. They were getting all the dirt they could about me and letting me hear it, and when I joked about my wellies from Tescos being a bit too tight for me because my right leg was too fat with a couple of the female officers, one of the male offcers said ‘that’s more like it, a friendly joke, not assaulting a police officer’, as though he had a right and that was the whole story and as if he did not know the abuses I have been through myself in my life.
I’m frightened of the police and mental health services, and I have asked the council for support I haven’t received or had the request acknowledged, at least I have received no letter. My mobile phone was among the things the campsite owner kept hold of. I can’t afford another right now. I’m wondering if this situation is going to be used again to frighten me with mental health admissions. I’ve already had several assessments in the last few months where it was decided I didn’t need to be in hospital, but not having any money or security and having my stuff taken from me left right and centre and another bout of 24 hour harassment is freaking me out. Because before, in London, they said it was all in my mind and kept putting me under a section.
The woman I last spoke to at the council seemed to be trying to be understanding and sympathetic and human, but I have heard nothing and I don’t know what is happening or what decisions are being made and why. I have told them so much which historically has been used to section me. And people are reacting all over the place, as before. It seems as if everyone has an expectation that I should tell them everything. I’m thinking about the people’s courts under communism. It is really terrifying, not least because I don’t feel free to express how offensive I find it. If you confront people with their behaviour they can get really nasty. They like to pretend they are not doing anything.
I think I’ve got £15 until next Thursday. I made sure I topped up my bus pass for a week so I can get around. I’ve got a fair amount of food. I feel crazy with pain and fear and anger I daren’t express, and not knowing.
But my neighbours seem nice. I feel treacherous and stupid. I haven’t lived in Nottingham for ages, and I don’t know what is normal and what isn’t.
As I said in my letter to the council which, all being well, they should get tomorrow, I keep feeling as if it is me that is being perverse. I’m wondering if she has learning difficulties, but sometimes it feels like a complete wind up, and as always, her timing is impeccably uncanny. I’m not sure of the spiritual mechanics of it, but it is.
Sometimes they seem really nice, and one of the guys up there seems emotionally upset by it all.
I’ve told the council we need help and support. I said we, not just I. I haven’t heard a thing. It is a week ago. She said she ‘insisted’ that I stop reacting as I was breaching the terms of my contract. But after agreeing with her, I now feel and believe that the terms of the contract were not written to inhibit understandable human reactions from people who are in a situation like this one. But I did agree, saying also that if I agreed to stop then we needed support. . .
I’m frightened of the police. I feel I have to go through a charade with them to communicate and try to get help, and it feels humiliating, because I often feel they are being deliberately ride and obstructive when I try. I have so much anger built up, and I often hear them getting details on me and the fact that I have a history with the mental health services. I know that is meant to help them have some idea how to assist, but it usually doesn’t feel as if that is what it is for at the time. I always see it as a threat when they start talking in those terms, even though rationally I believe now that seeing it that way is a mistake.
But if their idea of helping me is to refer me to mental health services . . . that is what I am frightened of. Their own conditioning which they act on without question and resent it if I question it. I am frightened of the powers they have which I cannot resist.
I miss Max. I’m really upset. I liked him and felt as if I could trust him from the first time I heard him speak. I’ve not stopped thinking about him, but it is now over a month that I walked away feeling unable to cope. I didn’t mean to stay away at the time.
To achieve anything of importance you need your own private space.
With what is happening around me when I try to use a computer in a public space, or even stand and look out at the fountain I walked beside after my degree ceremony and reconstruct memories and remember who was with me, I can’t even remember what it was I considered so urgent that I needed an extra hour on the internet before I did anything else.
Officials have been so unethical and unprofessional in their handling of my situation and the way they try to access it that they have left me vulnerable in every way.
I’m going to get a tee shirt made up saying ‘Am I the only person who is not allowed to cry and scream in anguish without being arrested or put in a mental hospital?’
If anyone else wants to use it, feel free. Your design will be unique to yourself (or your company, if you will go that low). If anyone wants it for company purposes I might hope that they would approach me so I can share their profits.
Basically the police seem to be standing back and letting things get out of hand until I crack and start giving it back to my aggressors, at which point the police move in to take advantage of the situation to establish a contact with me which, because I do not accept where they want to go or yield, ends up in me being arrested. They stand back while trouble develops then take advantage, rather than making an honest approach to what they want from, for or with me. I still have bruises on my wrist from Monday night before the clearing of St Paul’s, which is 9 days ago, and no handcuffs were used. There was no need for force, apart from making my opinion of what they were doing to me known verbally, I offered no physical resistance. They acted in anger and malice. Also dishonesty, I think. They told me not to go back to my tent, supposedly by that time knowing that clearance was scheduled, so even if I hadn’t been arrested I would have been in breach of their instructions if I had gone back to my tent for any reason, even though it was the only place I had to sleep and had no money for anywhere else and they probably knew I would need to get my things. As it is I seem to have lost everything I had in there. The City of London police told me anything unclaimed had been taken to Heathrow and I should contact the Metropolitan Police about how to get it, but a CAB staff member phoned them for me yesterday and they say they know nothing.
On Sunday morning 5th February between 9 and 10 am I was in the O2 Shopping centre at Finchley Road, NW3. I have never been in there before or got off in the area for years. I had noticed an express hotel while passing on a bus and although they had no rooms, they were happy for me to buy tea and coffee through the night and buy breakfast.
I decided after standing at the bus stop for a little while that I would go in and see what was there, see if I could get a cup of coffee. I went into Starbucks at just after 9am. A young policeman came in directly behind me and as soon as I had finished asked for a fuckochino.
I’m sitting in Caffe Nero at the moment fighting for emotional possession of what should be mine to possess, where they have repeatedly looked at me as if I am a nuisance since I came in, and they are trying to do some sort of operatic thing behind the counter. I’m finding it distracting and an act of sabotage, at least in terms of emotional connection, so my writing is hurting me. I heard something recently which makes me feel that the police might have leaked a photograph of me to people and places like these, or maybe this is just the way they deal with people they really don’t like the look of and don’t want around. I say again, schizophrenia is imposed by ruling dishonest savages and is not inherent in the person. They advertise free internet here, but seem to be doing everything they can to distract me in my use of it. It is not supposed to be their creative space to the distraction of the customers. If I wanted opera I’d pay for it or find it on the internet. I certainly don’t want to be involved in an angry psychic improvisation in a way that totally grabs at and demands my attention, for whatever reason. It is 8.07 am at Canary Wharf. It seems there is a wave they grab at with singing every time I start to think and feel. I feel fear and distress and hurt and anger. Betrayal and discrimination.
But back to Starbucks in the O2 shopping centre at Finchley Road. And if I don’t manage to write all I know is in me to write, I might hopefully be able to come back to it later. These coffee bar people seem to think they are the new 5 star hotel staff or the aristocracy themselves, but that goes for all service staff everywhere, in my experience. Always imposing themselves, no discretion or sensitivity. They have the rights, they say in writing, and their power is always upheld. But we are paying and they are the paid. So if they distract or impose themselves it is an act of theft, as much as anything. I know my recent writing must have done the grapevine, and they are deliberately trying to distract me. That is harassment. I’ve never been in here before.
I asked the policeman if he had asked for a fuckochino, and his mate (3 or 4 others had joined him, including a woman. I only remember one but maybe there were two) said to him ‘did you ask for a fuckochino?’ and he said ‘yes, I did’, and they made a joke of it. I talked about verbal assault and harassment and went and sat down with my coffee. I sat in a corner as far away as I could manage in the hope that it would keep them away from me, and also there was an electrical socket to plug my laptop into, which was what I needed.
Anyway, they sat level with me, but on the other side of the room. They sat there effing and blinding loudly for ages and no one challenged them. They were talking about crazy, crazy cat and vegan frappacino, which is something I had quite a lot in Starbucks when the weather was warmer. They have told me their syrups are all vegan, so I have it made with soya milk and without cream.
Shortly after they started this a man came in with his young daughter. I think from memory she was around 10 years old. I had noticed her on the escalator earlier. She had lovely long red hair. They sat in front of me facing me, and I hoped they wouldn’t leave as I saw their presence as my safety and protection. But these officers must have gone on for about 20 minutes or more in this vein, and eventually one of them said something about the position being clear. They seemed to be watching my reaction and gathering from it that I was not going to get involved, but blog. Soon afer he said about the position being clear I said my position was that I didn’t like them sitting there harassing me and using that language, which anyone else might have been arrested for, and talking about crazy. Although they went quiet as I was speaking they didn’t acknowledge me, but I think they left in a sort of silence a minute or two later, no apologies to me or to anyone else.
Afterwards I sat there confused, feeling as if the attention was a positive thing and that it would be treacherous, unreasonable and perverse of me to find anything wrong with it and to try to expose it. I thought they were trying to centre with me, perhaps, and stripping themselves of all decency to make me feel secure and communicate that they wanted to talk to me and wanted me to trust them. What else, after all, is supposed to be communicated by their lovely smart uniforms and their clean, fresh appearance?
Then I thought what if it was someone else being treated like that? If I accepted it as positive for myself it would be saying it was OK to do to someone else. And at Heathrow I was arrested for swearing. Mine was in desperation and anger but theirs was a constant stream of non-stop, jocular, almost barrack room stuff. And there was a little girl and her father hearing it all. Recently they have been saying to me that there are children around when I have been angry with them, and I have said that I didn’t care. In the situation it was emotional blackmail. These officers did not care that this little girl was party to this behaviour. I’m not sure they thought about her at all. They could see her. When they have challenged me with the statement that there were children around, I couldn’t even see them.
I was thinking last night about something I have read quite often, that there are people with such low self-esteem that even negative attention is seen as something to be desired. That is me. In the presence of such a clean image, even if they are acting like that, I feel like such a low life that I deserve it, or that they are even engaging in an act of kindness to tell me that they are approachable.
But yesterday I thought (I have just looked at the girl behind the counter. She looks very angry and defiant of me. She knows as well as I what they are doing) would anyone want their mother or grandmother or wife or daughter or any other female to be treated that way? If I ‘OK-ed’ it for myself, would anyone else thank me for that?
I stopped to think just now and when inspiration began to come, when I started to level out with my own emotions and thoughts, one of the girls behind the counter said ‘here we go again’. It is a deliberate act of control and sabotage. They have just started singing again in the same harassing way. I was not going to write about them, but since they are taking from me the things I am wanting to write about, they have brought it on themselves. I’m not sure who they are doing it for. Every time I stop to feel an emotion they whine it out. That is a statement of fact, not hatred speaking.
I can’t go into it in depth in these conditions, I can’t access depth language and expression or thought or memory reconstruction, but I was feeling that I have lost my sense of where the boundary lines ought to be, that I felt guilty about not accepting their behaviour with gratitude in the first place, and that I still do. The officers were completely inappropriate in their behaviour, and it would have been equally inappropriate with or without the presence of the child, and whether it had been public or private.
So that is it. That is that incident from Sunday. There were about 4 or 5 others over the course of the weekend, but this one was completely unsolicited in a place I have never been in before. I’m almost afraid to make such a categorical statement, but I believe it cannot be OK. However extraordinary the situation, proper procedure and approach should always be adhered to.
I told the girl’s father that I loved her red hair and thought it was beautiful. I did think it was beautiful, and I wanted to say so, because there are so many instances of redheads being bullied and I read about one recently, and I wanted to affirm her. Afterwards I felt as if I might have been stupid. I tried to stop the father as he was leaving and apologise if my comment had been stupid, but although I think he heard me say ‘excuse me’ he didn’t stop. At the time I only saw them as being a protection for me. I didn’t think about them being equal victims of the situation at all.
A few minutes ago the girl behind the counter said loudly, angrily and challengingly ‘I’m spiritual’. She has loudly said ‘sorry’ a couple of times, but not to me, though it was meant for my hearing.
A few weeks ago I read and commented on a blog called ‘disable me’. I feel as if I am being conceited even to mention it and to say this is a deliberate attempt to disable and control. The way she is talking at the moment I have an image of someone parading themselves angrily on a platform and insisting on being acknowledged and looked at.
Finished 9.32 am
She has just said ‘baby’. And now she is singing Cum by ya, and has gone into mocking singing.
Edit 9.42 They are openly and derisively miaowing at me. It is savage.
Continued from ‘Police Stop and Search Slashed’ post.
Some time after 6am I found myself confronted by two police women asking me what I was doing there and, as I tried to explain, they talked me down and I thought they were rude, so I persisted in trying to explain until I got upset and they said I wasn’t being very nice. They said they were trying to help me, all I could see was that they wanted to move me on, and I felt as if I had been a specific target. I just thought they were really rude and unintelligent in the way they communicated and I was trying really hard to make them understand how I was feeling and how this was not a permanent or particularly chosen situation for me to be in, that I had tried to get a crisis loan and the systems had been down, and everything else I said in the post I referred to in my opening line. They were pointing at me and being really provocative and aggressive. Not violent, aggressive.
The next thing I knew they were calling backup, and 2 male officers arrived. The way they looked at me and treated me and teased me about the way I was behaving, I lost it.
There was a male member of airport staff with a white shirt sitting opposite me, he had been there for about half an hour. He had been speaking, it seemed to me, for my hearing, even though he must have been about 25 feet away. He was lounging backwards and eyeing me and his body language was challenge and domination. He continued to watch and listen intently, almost as if he was theatre audience or in a court room, while these police women were talking to me, and he was freaking me out. I told the police I wasn’t going to talk to them anymore while he was sitting there doing what he was doing and until he was removed. He was just eyeing me determinedly, but they refused to deal with him.
One of the male officers said loudly at some point, ‘all women are crazy’ and I wanted to make it stop and make it unsaid and take him to task but there seemed to be no way to do it. I didn’t know how to handle it. I was horrified and couldn’t believe he had said it. Eventually they were dragging me out of the airport and he was continuing to be provocative. I was objecting and he was saying ‘no one cares’, and it felt like a personal and emotional invalidation. I had recently heard on The News Quiz on Radio 4 that 700-900 officers in the Metropolitan police have criminal records, including GBH. Someone has told me since this incident that people with criminal records are not allowed to join the police and the records might have been gained while with the police, but I don’t know.
Anyway, I was wound up and swearing, and the same man said ‘if you swear once more I will put you under arrest’. So I said, not feeling able to back down at that point, ‘OK then, fuck off’. It was funny, he should have laughed and seen how inappropriate he was being himself. The woman officer at the station I told as i was leaving laughed when I recounted it, and that felt like a real relief. But instead he just said straight away, ‘right, you’re under arrest’. At some point he put handcuffs on me. My right wrist was black and purple for almost a week afterwards.
I said they were acting illegally, and that while I might be on the wrong side of the police, the police were on the wrong side of the law. I said they were illegal, he said contemptuously ‘we all know what you are. I asked him what and he wouldn’t answer. I kept pressing him for an answer and he wouldn’t say. I started shouting the odds again about the figures for police with criminal records, addressing the people around me, and he kept saying ‘no one cares’. I said that wasn’t true. I get one incident mixed up with another so I’m not sure how much I said on that occasion. So I won’t make it up as if I can.
Every time I spoke they were speaking into and over me, if that makes sense to people. I said they had killed my father, that he had committed suicide, but that I wasn’t going to commit suicide, I was going to blog. At the same time that I was saying I was only 11 years old when my father committed suicide, he was saying, ‘I bet he killed himself because of you’. I’ve heard that only one other time in my life, from a class mate straight after his death. I was outraged, like an animal in pain. He had no right to say that, but no matter how much I objected and kept trying to say they had no right to do what they were doing, they just kept mocking me and talking me down.
When they took me out of the van they gave a skewed account to the desk sergeant about what had happened and I said it was a misrepresentation. They were being strict and confrontational, I said I had an appointment with the housing people about getting emergency housing at 11am (it was between 7.30 and 8am) and the sergeant said ‘I think you are going to miss it’. I said ‘I bet you’re going to keep me here until it is too late for me to get a crisis loan today as well, aren’t you, so I will have no money tonight either, so what do you expect me to do and what good do you think you are doing?’
I felt I was being treated unfairly throughout and was angry and trying to be heard, but they were deliberately ignoring me. I’m not sure if I had mentioned the harassment and vigilantism at this point or not. But somehow it came about that the man who had been saying the things I have written started saying with seething anger, ‘she is going to come up to the desk and talk to you like a lady’. I said ‘I will start acting like a lady when you start acting like a decent man’.
They insisted I take my watch and therapeutic magnet off. I said I didn’t want the disorientation of not even knowing what time it was, but in the end I relinquished them, and my necklace which I won in a Crisis at Christmas raffle, because the way they grabbed my hands it felt as if they might break my fingers if I didn’t.
At 8.10am they put me in a bare cell with a bed shelf and mattress, a blanket and a toilet. There was no toilet paper. They said they would get me some breakfast but I got nothing until lunchtime, by which time I hadn’t eaten or drunk anything or been to the toilet for over 12 hours. I had not been offered a drink during this time.
They told me at the beginning of the morning that I could see a duty solicitor. I left without having seen one. They were reading something at the beginning while I was upset and shouting and they said ‘that’s a no, then’ to something I didn’t hear.
Soon, after not having slept all night, I started to fall asleep on the bench. As soon as I did I heard a male voice shout out, and they were banging. This happened several times, that one of them shouted out as soon as I began to fall asleep. I felt desperate. I later saw that there was a camera on the ceiling pointed straight at my bed. I wondered how closely they had it trained on me. Over the last 2 days I have thought seriously that they were deliberately using sleep deprivation and I believe I am right.
Their idea of a vegan lunch was chips and some vegetables, no protein. I gave up trying to eat it, I was so upset. I asked if i could have a cup of tea with my soya milk, but they said no, I couldn’t have anything which had come from outside the station, even though they had no soya milk and didn’t offer to get any for me.
Several times, at least through the afternoon, a male officer would walk up to my cell door, stop outside and cough hard and significantly, and walk away again. It frightened and angered me. I kept feeling screaming and hysteria rise into my throat which I had to control, because I knew expressing it would do no good. I kept wanting to speak to them like friends and ask for their help.
On the ceiling inside the door there was a sign that said there could be a monetary reward for anonymous information leading to crime. When I saw it I said something about bribery and corruption.
I have felt over the last couple of days that they had me there expecting me to ‘talk’. But they never asked me any questions.
Later in the afternoon I said something about a cup of tea and that I was a vegan and didn’t drink dairy milk. The officer was angry and rude and dismissive. He brought a cup of tea, even though I had said i didn’t want black tea, and I also didn’t want water, which was all they would offer me instead. So when he turned up with this I wondered what it was and asked him if it was black or if it had milk. He said it was powdered milk, and put it down on the floor rudely saying ‘it’s tea, do you want it or don’t you? You either want it or you don’t’. I ‘said’, ‘I’m a vegan and have been for 4 years. That is my life choice and you are being abusive and disrespectful’.
There were no books, nothing to write with, nothing was offered, and I was harassed constantly and not allowed to sleep. I was a wreck. After all that and everything they had put me through in the morning, I think at some point I asked them when the solicitor was coming and what we were waiting for, and the officer said we were waiting for a doctor, because they thought I needed a mental health assessment. I started shouting angrily and hysterically, saying after everything they had done to me and without having seen a solicitor, they wanted to subject me to a mental health assessment, and I said all they were really interested in seeing from me was naked fear.
When the doctor came I was taken to an office with an open door, and as we were talking the police started to interfere again in the same way as they had been doing before when I was speaking, but pretending it had nothing to do with me. I had asked for the door to be closed for privacy, but the doctor had refused and said it wasn’t necessary. When the interventions came I started to be afraid and panic, and they kept them coming until I was unable to control my fear. The doctor refused to recognise what was happening, and he ended the interview telling the police, after I had gone, that he thought I needed a mental health assessment.
I didn’t find this out until several hours later when I asked again what we were waiting for and when the solicitor was going to arrive. All day I was not told that I would not be seeing a solicitor. They said we were waiting for a mental health team because the doctor had believed I needed an assessment. Again I became angry and hysterical.
Before my father died we had a dog, which survived his death by a few years. When he was alive my dad used to take him out with a big stick. I think there was a nail in the stick at one point. I used to tease my dog with the stick and thought it was really funny when he went running under the settee screaming. I have realised in recent years he was terrified and been really upset at myself for what I did. He would come out all docile and upset and exhausted, qlmost as if he was crying and telling me he was upset. Loving and trusting me and telling me, his tormentor, that he was upset and frightened and taking comfort from me.
That is how I felt when they started talking about mental health teams. I thought they did it to make me scream, and they got that much, at least.
The mental health team decided I didn’t need to be in hospital and told me the offciers were going to try to find me somewhere to stay that night.
When the evening shift took over a woman came to my cell. She seemed nice and sympathetic, and when I told her what the offcier had said about my father killing himself because of me, she seemed genuinely shocked and said he shouldn’t have said that.
I can’t remember all the order of how the last part of the day happened, but she told me that, because I had been arrested, they had the power to take my DNA and fingerprints. I believed that saying she had the power was not the same as saying it was something they HAD to do, so I asked her if she was going to do it. She said a male officer was going to do it. She said he was a ‘good lad’, and I wondered what that counted for with people like the police. What would this ‘good lad’ do with people who were not me?
I didn’t believe there was any point trying to resist or persuade, and I don’t know how I let them do it. I knew throughout that it was unjust and an assault and although she kept trying to keep it light, I felt as if I was standing there having to pretend it was OK for them to rape me and believe the people doing it were ‘good’. I couldn’t lash out. They forced it through knowing as well as I did, I believe, that they had no right to be doing it and it wasn’t OK. It was all a pretence and they were demanding a pretence of me. I was not at liberty to say how repulsive and abusive it was, although we all knew it. I had to stand there and pretend that this enormity was a small and inconsequential thing, not an act of illegal subjugation and domination.
Afterwards, when I was standing at the desk, I saw a male officer behind a glass screen sitting in front of a computer. I wasn’t sure if he had been there all day, he was acting as if he was part of the next shift. I started watching him while he was watching his screen, and wondering what he was doing or reading or looking at. My attitude was open, and as I watched, I saw him begin to smile and his smile got bigger and happier. I thought he was reacting to me and I looked around and saw a camera immediately above the desk. I realised he was watching me and immediately switched him off and turned away from the camera. As I did his features darkened. His number was ID 24. A few minutes later he came out and said he was leaving and finishing his shift. But I realised he was observing me at the desk through the camera.
After he went the woman officer tried to contact the out of hours crisis loan office, but there wasn’t one in that area, and no loan could be arranged. Also they couldn’t arrange somewhere for me to spend the night. Before I left she started talking with her colleague who was going to run me to the bus station. She was talking in ways I felt I recognised, about ‘her 2 year old’ and that she was ‘vain’. She seemed to be commenting on my bodily reactions that she could see from behind. She talked about something being ‘back breaking’.
I had already talked to her about people talking in code. I believed she was talking about me. I thought she must be, she couldn’t possibly be calling her own child ‘vain’. I couldn’t, at that time, believe she would do that.
Her colleague ran me to the bus station in a van exactly the same as the one I had been brought to the station in, and I sat in the back, exactly the same as before. I felt it was a deliberate re-enactment, reversed, of what I had been through in the morning. I almost felt as if they were saying that, if I had responded differently, I could have received (more) help. I thought they had said I could hang around the bus station with everyone else, because there were people there all night. But when I sought to clarify this as I got out of the van she said she hadn’t said any such thing and that I could be picked up for doing so, that it would be best if I didn’t. But she knew I had no money and nowhere to go. I wondered if she had been trying to get a last second capitulation from me. I wanted to go back to the airport, it felt like the right thing to do and my right, but I was afraid and didn’t, I got on the tube. I was upset and disorientated.
They had held me for 14 hours in sensory deprivation conditions, constantly harassed and banged at and coughed at and deprived of sleep, deliberately, I believed, and subjected to mental cruelty and torture. In all that time I never saw the solicitor I had been told I would see.
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.
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)
Edited: written after midnight. Some of my tag categories do not reflect the changes today. Sometimes they do, but not today. Angry, me? Hurt at inconsistency, me?
1. Yesterday morning on the bus to Heathrow (nearest tube), somehow I remembered the Gilbert and Sullivan line, “If everyone’s a somebody, then no one’s anybody”.
Many creeds and philosophies, including Christianity, insist that we are all someone in the eyes of God. I don’t know the whole operetta or the context of these words or the writer’s intention, but there have been times when I have thought of the ‘madding crowd’ and taken these words as a contradiction of the ‘we are all equals’ position. I have thought ‘yes, that is true, and how sad, that so many people press to be somebody that true greatness/quality/dignity is suppressed/frowned on/not recognised and respected’. But this time I thought of the quotation and berated myself/felt ashamed for being such a snob. I thought ‘if everyone’s a somebody, then no one’s anybody – yes, exactly, and thank goodness for that. That is the point. Everybody IS somebody and no one is more special than anyone else, and that is a good thing’. I am sure there must be a balance. Recognising you are a somebody and pushing to be somebody are two different things. When you push to be somebody you often put other people down in your own need to shine. But when you know you are somebody and also that so is everyone else, you can let people be.
2. The other one was the Bible, Psalm 1
1Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.
2But his delight is in the law of the LORD; and in his law doth he meditate day and night.
3And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper.
4The ungodly are not so: but are like the chaff which the wind driveth away.
5Therefore the ungodly shall not stand in the judgment, nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous.
6For the LORD knoweth the way of the righteous: but the way of the ungodly shall perish.
Especially verses 1 and 2 I was thinking of.
I was watching the BBC News Channel and thought that retrospectively I understood why I had thought of those verses. There was a lot about the situation at St Paul’s Cathedral, and I thought they were playing the role of the fool or court jester of Shakespeare’s time, mocking and mimicking. Two of them were even wearing harlequin ties. I felt sorry for the staff of St Paul’s and for their confusion. I am sure they are intelligent people and know they are being mocked in the media, on reflection. At the time I felt sorry for them because I thought they were getting confused being exposed to the mockery and not realising what it was, but they must do.
I don’t know any of the people there, but I can’t understand why the Dean felt his position there was untenable given the circumstances, and why he felt he had to resign. I can’t really understand all the confusion they seem to be feeling and am personally sorry that he has resigned. Maybe he felt torn between the demonstrators and the people objecting to them being there.
There have been times I wanted to go and join the demonstrators myself. I have felt it would be an honour to be evicted from the property for what they are demonstrating over. I’ve also wondered how much I am being manipulated by the media into thinking that way. Apparently drink and drugs are involved now and I wouldn’t want to be associated with that.
All the news people going with the WWJD angle, as if it really matters to them, and the people being interviewed coming back with easy answers like he would be out talking to the crowds and wouldn’t call the police. Apparently it isn’t the church that is seeking the injunction anyway. The church should be this and the church should be that . . . but in a situation like this it is probably not so cut and dried.
I felt sorry for the Dean when he said he found it hard that the demonstrators seemed to think that he didn’t believe what they believed just because he didn’t express it the same way, and the man to his left started whispering into his girlfriend’s ear and messing around. I saw the way he looked at them afterwards. He seemed to feel frustrated. The man was not for listening and was all for distracting his girl.
I would like to be there with the demonstrators, though. The only way I could know if it is what I really want would be to go there.
I wanted to record yesterday’s Newsround today, and it keeps coming back ‘content doesn’t seem to be working, try again later’.
Back in the UK now. At Charing Cross last night there was rail staff and police staring at me, but making no approach. Lots of people looked at me with disgust. Inc staff on 2nd plane home. Threw up after 4 or 5 mouthfuls of a vegetable biryani. Had forgotten how HOT UK curries are. All hot and not much else. Threw up. Gave what was left to a beggar on the street. Plenty of people in UK like that kind of thing.
Sat with a(nother) homeless person on my way to Victoria. Shared my food with him. Rode a nightbus at his suggestion, thought it would be cheaper than getting a hotel room in London (4 times more expensive than Bulgaria), but by the end and the looks of disgust I was getting from dark, sophisticated painted girls I was wrecked. I got off the buss at the end with a long haried man dressed very dramatically wearing an upside down cross on his belly, a blonde girl who was dressed to fit and was with him, who didn’t say much and seemed to be drunk, another young guy, not so dramatic, who seemed to be with them, a city cype blonde girl, and an absolute lookalike of Bruce Atkinson, who said – well, it doesn’t matter. Afterwards I thought he might have been the same man who presented himself at the front during an appeal at KT and threw people into disarray.
Sport – she just said, ‘oh, it’s incredibly tight . . .’ aggressively contemptuous and mocking. They are the hit and run of my tag. They mark their pitch with verbal hits, and then run while I am still reeling. But Many programmes do the same thing. This lady is Gabby something.
I don’t have to do everything I feel like doing. I don’t have to scream if I want to. If I don’t scream my world won’t end, no one will suffer, in fact, I might be stronger and things might be better if I don’t scream. I don’t have to let people know they are making me feel like that, then I can get on with and be open to people who DON’T make me feel like that.
It isn’t dishonest, it is a choice, like any other.
If I feel violent, for whatever reason, although it is a strong feeling, I don’t have to express it. If I recognise that and don’t think it has to rule or can destroy me, or that angry, violent, controlling, demanding people can, if it remains unexpressed, it goes, and it was never mine in the first place. It was a feeling that I felt, for some reason. It isn’t me. Anyone can be driven to feeling violent, but it doesn’t have to be expressed. If I stop it, the feeling is gone within two or three seconds and I know it was nothing to do with me in the first place.
There are other things I can do with my day that are nicer for everyone. And the harassers and those who feel entitled and who treat me violently can do as they like.
Edit note: 10 minutes later. Men started shouting downstairs, it was OK, I didn’t feel threatened, and they didn’t sound threatening. They were part of the background noise, and I became unaware. As so often happens in this situation, the people above me banged in a way which felt targeted and violent and abusive. They have just banged again now. I could be just me misinterpreting it. But yesterday they were banging and calling into my media and every pause in the radio recording, so I feel I have to listen with my headphones on now to maintain some sort of self-control when it happens. Also they were turning heavy power tools on me, as they used to in my apartment in Plovdiv. After reacting hysterically I told the hotel staff and asked them if they had any workmen and they said they didn’t. But they also haven’t made any move to stop it after saying they would. Last night they said they would deal with it ‘tomorrow’, and I insisted on the phone (they phoned me) that they deal with it then, and they said they would, but didn’t. When I saw the same person later in the evening, about 10.30pm he said he had listened but hadn’t heard anything, and that there was no one there, and he put on a hard expression. He has said that before and I know it isn’t true. They make themselves sound, vocally, mot of the time, like nice and lovely people, above me.
I am in the Ricas Hotel in Sliven. I’m on the 5th floor. The people doing this, which is exactly like Plovdiv was, are directly above me on the 6th. Putting this on my blog is easier for me, in every way, than trying to deal with the hotel staff and the authorities, and hopefully might be more effective. I’m afraid to move. It has me in such a state that if I try and go somewhere else presenting like this it will just create something bad there as well. I hope someone will read this and help me.
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.
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.
I’m hurt, I’m punch drunk. Every day, people shouting, banging, barking and vomiting noise. I always feel bad about leaving a bad situation, because my church leaders have historically said that if you can’t be a Christian where you are, you can’t be a Christian anywhere. I’m not sure how that works when you feel as if you are being torn apart and having your throat savaged by packs of human dogs. What does it mean then, to be a Christian where you are in that situation? People have said to me before, in different situations, that I don’t have to stay, but in light of the previous statement that has felt like a taunt, or at least a contradiction.
I’m in a hotel. There are men shouting like savages on a football pitch, angrily, defiantly, power-grabbingly. This is Plovdiv. As far as I am concerned, these people are angry and still murderous. I feel sick. I really can’t cope any more. It’s satanic, it’s disgusting, and for all the support I have in my community, both here and in London, I might as well be homeless. I’m not, but I might as well be, because the police don’t care. I feel really sick. These people, men and women, puncture the air with shouts and banging, even at illegal times, and if you challenge them they are all smooth, sometimes, as if they are happy to accommodate my requirement that they revert to acting legally, or as if they are not wrong in the first place. I feel sick with fear and desperation, and as for the church . . . visit www.christiancentre.org and listen to the Sunday morning, Easter morning sermon, Laurence James-Davis, listen to him shouting, catch the moment of guilty registering in his voice a little later on apparently, to me, knowing he is all noise and no substance, that his shouting is not appropriate, but still he continues. That is what these people are like here. Is this the kind of Christianity they have swallowed and are acting out against me? Dominionism. Make some noise. I read in a Christian book, David Wilkerson, I think, that empty cans make the most noise. These people’s noise, and the way it savages my consciousness, deliberately, sometimes, I am absolutely sure, is literally sickening.
I bought some new clothes last week. A pack of dogs – sorry, men – passed me and called me a slut.
I went to the police with the violent harassment thing with my neighbours, and they said something about immoral woman and prostitute and told me to leave the station, suggesting by their attitude that they might treat me roughly if I didn’t comply. Every time I think and get quiet to express myself, these men shout into the air. This is the most externalised spiritual battle I have ever been part of. They bark into the air, going straight for my throat, and seem to think it is reasonable. If you challenge them they laugh or treat you like an idiot.
I can’t cope. I feel emotionally and mentally raped. I really can’t cope. I have no safe place to go. Even the church is full of defiant and evasive liars shouting from the platforms. Colin Dye talked about Judas on Sunday (or was it the Chinese guy at 2.30?) and talked about his betrayal and suicide, as if the two belonged together. That is old pentecostal teaching, and I have swallowed it. I believe it is right and reasonable, and that to see suicide in any other light is dishonest. I think if you dissect it finely enough and examine it under a strong enough microscope you can’t honestly come to any other conclusion.
So is there no level of pain or abandonment or isolation that can justify feelings of wanting to die? Are all such feelings evidence that, somehow, at some level, you are or have been treacherous in some way? Even if you have been, if you have sadistic, dishonest rub your nose in it people dealing with you, how are you supposed to feel? They give you no way back to life. They themselves are wrong, but they insist you take your place in life again on their terms.
These men and their shouting is making me feel violent and desperate. They are real madhouse material. I think they are stupid and dangerous and should be taken off the streets. I think it shows that I feel somehow responsible for them, that I feel this way. But they are gross and I’m a woman. The way their behaviour collides with my mind and feelings is completely terrifying me, in my situation as it is. They are grossly defiant. Every utterance of theirs is an insistence that it is OK. There is nothing in their minds that is recognisable to me as being in any way decent.
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.
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.
They shout and bang all day, in teams and relays, I woke up relaxed out of a good dream early the other morning, before 6am, and coughed easily as I came round, and she immediately roused her sleeping partner and suddenly they were tapping at me. I think it was, anyway, repetitive tapping, that seems to be the torture of choice at the moment, but it might have been a violent thud, but I can’t remember this time. The couple of times I have tried to sleep in the silent period in the afternoon, between 2 and 4 pm, they have tapped over my bedroom every time sleep has come anywhere near me. The first time he came running across my ceiling, about 3.30 pm, and shouted out violently, terrifyingly, outside, leaving me feeling as if I had been clubbed about the head, and where before I was gaining clarity of thought, thoughts were coming and going and not going anywhere, not being resolved, thoughts were not thinkable. It is the level of anger and hatred, as well as contempt for the law, from a man to a woman, that really does for me. They are playing door opening and closing games as I go in and out, which I have interpreted as symbolically closing the door on me. They follow me around, cracking and banging over my space wherever I am in the apartment. Today I thought, if these are shepherds and sheepdogs, they are the devils shepherds and sheepdogs. She keeps saying hallelujah, so I’m really confused. Is this how Orthodox Christianity works, or some other form of Christianity, or is she just using hallelujah to make the experience more torturous and disorientating?
I started writing this to say, in spite of all this, if and when I lose it, I still end up feeling as if I am the one who is supposed to say I am sorry. When I write like this I believe that isn’t right, but it doesn’t stop me ending up feeling as if it is. And every night I’m afraid to go to bed, because they wake me up tapping, every night. Or stop me as I am going into sleep in the first place, in exactly the same way. It is deliberate tapping. I’m a sleep-deprived and frightened and furious wreck. I know they are going to do it, because they always do. Sleep is not allowed for me. I’m so upset, and so tired, but I daren’t go to bed. I’m so desperate. They did it this afternoon as well. And if I say anything they get worse and take worse advantage.
I called the police on Thursday, the afternoon he shouted violently, and the person on the other end said ‘I beg your pardon’ twice, in a way which felt pointed (my browser crashed here), and three male officers turned up at my door, one of whom spoke English, and while I was talking to him, every time I relaxed and my voice took on strength, one of the other two went running away with it, gabbling loudly over the top of me. When I looked through my eyehole, before I opened the door, I saw they were standing there laughing, but as soon as they realised I was taking a good look, they stopped. I felt humiliated on my own door step. I said something about the gabbling over the top of me and how I was used to it here, but that from the police it was inappropriate, and the English speaker tried to reassure me it was nothing, but in the end I mimicked him back when he did it again, but obviously timidly and I wish I hadn’t, but he stopped. If I had been confrontational and strong in my annoyance and anger, would they have made it an excuse to arrest me, as has happened or been threatened sometimes in England?
Anyway, they said I had to go to the station and make a report, which at the time was something I was willing to do, but I’ve decided to approach a solicitor instead with the whole situation and ask what a couple of clauses in my contract mean in terms of being able to expect support from my landlord. I’ve already emailed my landlord, and they have said there is nothing they can do. If that is true I need to try and help myself, but if it isn’t, I can do without the hassle.
PS I think I am also being mobbed on the Christianity tag in particular, by people writing ‘relevant’ things and taking some aspect of my bolg’s presentation and title. When I last looked this post was flanked by two others, one saying ‘no man is an island’, and the other talking about taking every thought captive (right next to mine, ‘thoughts and observations of a certified nut!’?), talking about the ‘queen of science’, and I went out angrily this evening, to do some essential food shopping, saying I was going out ‘like the royalty I am’. Coincidence? The other day there was something by someone whose blog is something like ‘thoughts and observations of a dependent workman’, and I constantly feel as if people are calling me the lone ranger or something. It is really undermining. While I have been writing this PS the woman upstairs has started talking, and I have had a battery of browser crashes, especially right at the beginning. I’m still wondering if they are hacking my computer upstairs.
PPS 1.47pm Bulgarian time. I was just thinking and feeling about Jason. At least I think I was, because her voice intruded on it, that godawful voice, or is it just my godawful embarrassment about my godawful contribution to the situation? But it is since she imposed her voice over mine, several times, and in the context of them banging into the most intimate sounds of my voice and places of my rest and sleep that this kind of thing happens over and over, my most intimate thoughts and feelings and deepest places of my being, open to or because of the things or people I am thinking about, are invaded by this voice. This actual voice, not a memory or imagination or hallucination. I have raged in the past when this kind of thing has happened. Today I held back and decided not to. It has taken me half an hour to decide that putting this fact on my blog is OK and not inappropriate. As soon as I hit the ‘update’ button on this my computer crashed.
‘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.
Then that stupid woman upstairs, with her violent male (if it isn’t her) and all the neighbours knowing what is going on and doing nothing, maybe even part of it, shouted hallelujah. Whatever the dynamic and explanation, she does it every time my mind comes in to land. It makes me feel I am being unreasonable losing it in a situation like this, because I am just telling myself that if I didn’t get upset at what they are doing, I wouldn’t need to calm down, and this wouldn’t happen, and everything would be OK. They impose a sound or vocalisation over everything I do here, whether it is turning on the television, or something on my computer, and if I go into thought it is something that continues, as I have just said. They have been messing about over my shower and toilet for ages, and today I was having a shower and they started a commentary over me, and I shouted at them to go away, and one of them hammered on my ceiling. They have been like this almost non-stop for 8 weeks. If I cough in the middle of the night, she complains with savage contempt and anger in her voice. And whatever she does, she has to bring herself back to an innocent little girl voice, and I’m still living with what they do. Today I realised that, at least for a moment, I had turned my shocked and frightened animal reaction to her hallelujahs into a duck. I just ducked it and smiled and thought, yeah, this is OK, I can do this, I don’t have to be ruled by it’. Then about 5 or 10 minutes later she shouted it out again, only this time it was more aggressive, and I had an ‘I don’t believe this’ reaction. She does it just about every day, every 10 or 15 minutes or so.
Now, hallelujah is for me a heart word. Does that mean I owe this woman anything? I’m not sure she is even a Christian, she just uses the word. Jesus is also a heart word. Someone in computing knows that, because Iwas in a computer shop the other day, and saw an advert for something called ‘Asus’ or Isus’ or something, and it said, ‘it touches the heart’. To me that is a misappropriation of language. That kind of misappropriation of language is responsible for a lot of distress and violent feelings in society which are sometimes converted into action and mental illness. It is deliberate, and aggressive as advertising and brainwashing are, and even violent. I think I have just realised, since it has been going on for so long with such clockwork regularity, it must be deliberate, the hallelujahs, and she is deliberately using brainwashing and torture techniques. As soon as I said so, they banged violently on my ceiling again. I’m a nice person. I like people. They can’t treat me like this, it is inhumanly cruel.
I don’t run and get out immediately. I still have too much of the mental coping mechanism and muscle memory of not being able to run away from frightening and anger-inducing behaviour from both staff and patients on a locked ward. Also i have no confidence in the authorities over this anyway once they discover I have a mental health diagnosis, they are more likely, judging from past experience, to have me put back in hospital, than todeal with the deliberate violence and harassment which has started in a brand new place with no provocation from me whatsoever. As my home this should be my refuge. They have turned it into a place of torture. I want to dissolve in tears all the time, I want to fall into the arms of those who are harassing me with violence and think maybe I’m imagining the harassment and violence and all I need to do is dissolve and go to them and say i’m sorry and everything will be OK. Thinking like that is the nearest I ever get to seeing normality on the horizon. I daren’t go to the police, even though it seems I obviously have to, if they are going to react to me with the disdain that people here react to Roma and people they call gypsys, like someone did me the other day, because I feel volatile and that also wouldn’t be tolerated, and having been abused for so long I’m a bit of a mess, and people don’t sympathise with you for that here, they treat you with disgust, even more than they do in the UK. They judge you. If you are a mess it is your fault. I suppose that is an easy mistake to make, with so many abusive media and government people looking so smart and the picture of innocence.
Anyway, I was going to say, I’m watching Animal Planet, and a man was handling an animal with his legs, and it reminded me of when I saw a man in the West End, lying on the street as if asleep, and the police came to move him on, and when he didn’t move, one of them shoved him with his foot. This isn’t an isolated incident, and I’ve had equivalent things done to me, but people like the squeeky clean church brigade advise people that, if they have committed any crimes, they should go to these people, these thugs, and confess their crime. Yes, thugs, whatever the consequences. I know too much about them. And certainly I don’t feel able to go to them with crimes of harassment and violence which are being committed against me, with the sweet little girl trusting adoring attitude, or just togetherness, which appears to be required here.
I was angry the other day about the language used about sports teams and people. how much they talk about punishment and humiliation and being humbled and similar things. They must feel this, and it must affect their behaviour. A day or two ago I saw a sportsman on BBC World News, delivering the most grovelling and abject apology and saying how they had been given chances and how they had offended everyone, etc, etc, and if this is what they are being made to feel is required of them, as people, the hypocrisy of those who require it of them makes me feel sick, and I’m glad I don’t contribute financially to that world.
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.
I was just watching BBC World News again. It is the only British based news channel I can get on my television. It’s about 9.30 am UK time. (edit note: I think I’ve got it. These people need a catastrophe to make full use of what they are doing and the way they stalk me. If it isn’t a catastrophe what they do jars with the mind much more. They absolutely love it. They have faced this kind of thing so many times, much of the concern and grief must be acted. Like charity fatigue, it must be, surely. They are no different from the rest of us. Just criminals. Da Boga. Rasbiram. 2.17 pm UK the woman sounds angry, and she is lashing language in a reversal, psychologically, and because I know it’s happening and the malice and criminality behind it, I find it intimidating and terrifying. That is how I am supposed to find it. It is open contempt. She just slipped Premier in. Look at her. Butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. As my grandmother used to say. And she knew. And I think now that she knew because it was happening when she was alive. Nice one. ‘Let’s kit’ followed by a disciplinarian ‘who is in control of . . .?’ And I think they are deliberately coming on acting drugged and half asleep. On the basis that they are opposing the strongest people they stalk in the most appropriate way to hurt them, making them look out of it and mental or hypnotised and psychologically clubbed, as they are, and traumatised, because they know that you become what you look at, so they put it out, these most of them acting trained people, as a blanket policy for everything they do. They have just hit a surface, like batting a fly away. The programme was ‘Impact’. She went out on ‘engineers’, slipped in like a date rape drug. John Coles and John Knight at St Barnabas Church in Finchley are engineers, and that is where this most painful part of my life started. And my bastard, sabotaging neighbours, trying to silence me but not going to the police. They must be criminals in other ways, as well as over this. They just banged at the end of that sentence. She shouts something that sounds like shut up as soon as my tv goes on, and interjects at points, taking control, because at the moment she can because I think she can. I’ve just said I’m going to the police, but they let me down in my last place, and they have let me down for years, in the UK. It’s the right thing to do, it’s what I should do, but they don’t do what they should do, and they intimidate me and make it obvious that they despise me, if I get the wrong ones, and I always seem to. It can’t just be me. Peter Dobbie who has just come on, his voice moved and warmed to my feeling of self-doubt while I was writing this. They talk in a place just out of the reach of letting you feel. It is policy. I think I heard it, but am not sure, in Bob Geldof on the Robert Elms Show, and he looked very sheepish and caught out the next day on The One Show. I have both recorded. This next man just sped up his speech in a tongue lashing way to talk about ‘shutting down’, and they keep shouting. I’m not the only one who shouldn’t have to put up with that. For me it feels like an accusation because I shout and become hysterical. Everybody who communicates anything also knows this is true, but they leave me in it. That is treacherous and devilish. For me and everyone else they do it to. And we are many. They are shouting over, projecting. It’s spiritual interference and molestation, and my neighbours are feeding on it, and on me, like vultures. Not like disciples of Christ feeding on His body and blood. This is different. End of edit note.)
I am so much under siege, it is the rubbish, and not the story, that I tune into. I’m terrified of it so sensitised to it. What I am really terrified of is the way I am being treated where I am, my reactions to it and the total contempt and hatred they are met with. I think that is called rejection, in this case aggravated rejection. The so-called Christians upstairs are doing psychological interrogation and appear to be insisting that I go to them on their terms. Every time I concentrate on something she shouts hallelujah, really aggressively from deep down, not just in her voice, or someone bangs. They go between all those things and whining, if I say anything, she will get on top of it with the exact opposite of what she hears in my voice. If my voice is strong she sweets and tweets, and if I sweet and tweet she comes back with something that sounds really awful. I think we are at war! I coughed today. I feel really inhibited about coughing, because they always put a sound on top of it, strike a surface or comment or something. So first I coughed with deliberate insistence, then I coughed the cough I wanted to cough. They immediately struck a surface, and I went wild. I have said they are using spiritualism, I have said they are thugs, I have called them interrogators and Satanists, I know and they know they are using interrogation and torture techniques and violence. I have repeatedly said if they have a problem they should go to the police instead of doing what they are doing, and that the fact that they don’t makes them criminals, especially since they continue in what they are doing and have not apologised. She speaks a bit of English, I don’t know how much. Enough to confront me with a ‘how dare you, behave yourself’ look and say ‘what’s the matter? Shut up!’ I don’t know if she has more than that. She put on a head-cocking show outside my apartment the other day. I think now she did it on purpose and that she deliberately pretended she didn’t know I was there. But I saw her husband/boyfriend, and he was acting like a very naughty thug, who knew what he had been doing and that he had been doing it deliberately and was a bit embarrassed that I had actually seen him.
But anyway, I’ve started writing to complain about BBC World News again. As I said, it was about 9.30 am when I started this post (hello, nice to make contact, I love writing, the sun is shining and it makes me feel really happy). If I knew her name I would use it, she is Indian or somewhere around there, she has long hair (can I say it as it is?) and an expression that looks as if she has tasted something horrible, like a lemon or something. Maybe that is because of me. When I first put the tv on (it was on for about 20 minutes) they did their usual strong ‘OFF’ bit, followed it up with something that sounded like ‘schitz’, which I immediately took as a kind invitation then felt annoyed and said to myself, maybe out loud, I can’t remember, ‘I might if you get my name right’. But I continued to listen and as I did I found myself allowing the changes in my perception and that the thing they said was the thing they meant and not the interpretation I put on it, and I felt ashamed of having refused the label, because the label got my attention and accepting it and the change in my perception, I felt, went together. Wanting and accepting the change in perception depended on me accepting the label, at least at that time in that context, and maybe always. I wasn’t watching at the time, I was making breakfast, which here is late, we are two hours ahead. So I wasn’t overwhelmed with sensory information.
I came to sit down and saw who it was, and continued to watch and think whatever I wanted to think, partly that her accent modulated between levels of ‘poshness’, thinking that was an annoying thing they had got from – well, I don’t know, now I think of it. But her voice changed a little, and she said something I’ve forgotten now but picked up from a Bulgarian estate agent’s website. Since they use a lot of this in definite clusters it seems obvious to me this was deliberate again, I had no hesitation in recognising it as so. I’ve remembered. It was ‘and yet’. It sticks out to me because it is a slightly poor translation. When it is used on the website it usually means something like ‘also’. When she said it she rasped and cleared her throat in what seemed to me to be a pointed and significant way, and it seems obvious to me it was a coded recognition that I was watching, either because they have been physically informed by some kind of commercial network employee, or through some sort of psychic sensing.
But I thought something about it today which I haven’t thought before, and even as I approach the thought it seems ridiculous and an embarrassing thing even to have thought. Just crazy paranoia. But I’ve often felt a bit sorry for them because I’ve thought perhaps they don’t know anything about me and are just reading what they have been given to read, but this time I thought she was telling someone that I was watching and asking for ‘appropriate’ material.
She did what they always do: ‘here’s one, here’s one, here’s one, here’s one’ with bits of my information, then she went out on an aggressive, psychologically violent and aggressive and provocative rush of words, leaving me feeling as if she was shouting at me or telling me off right into my face and wanting to shout back. I did, after being afraid and trying to resist it for a few seconds. But if I’m going to feel better, and maybe if I’m going to be able to stop them, if there is a level of psychic stuff involved, I’ve got to stop telling myself not to do it and just let it go, straightaway, and not be afraid. That is how I feel. I think they are relying on me being afraid and inhibited. It might not be psychic at all on any level, it might just be abuse.
I was thinking as well, yesterday, that Peter Dobbie comes on and he is very insistent and serious in an almost fatherly way about ‘correcting’ the things I have said that are ‘wrong’ or that I have ‘misunderstood’. Like a teacher. So that seems to be an acknowledgment. That is obvious. Why? And he shouldn’t be doing it. I really don’t think he should. And who is he doing it for? Me, or other viewers? Is it a public image control thing, for the channel?
Got to go to the post office today. I’ve got some mail waiting for me. I’ve got some things I’m waiting for, so I hope it is them.
I hate failing and being humiliated, anywhere. I asked myself today why I am hanging on here so much, since I knew I hadn’t come to stay forever and that it is only rented. I realised it is because I have no faith for the future, that if I go out of here on a low and with things really bad, it is going to follow me as it always has. Not because it is me, but because people are pursuing me with it. Robb Thompson, wily old codger, says if things are always bad for you in relationships, guess what the common factor is – you. I’ve never been able to swallow that. I’ve tried, but I’ve had to go into a ‘yes, he’s right’ mode to do so. It is actually a quite insolent and contemptuous thing to confront someone with, I think. People learn from experience. In my case I’ve decided if things are always bad for me in relationships, someone got there before me and queered my patch. Guess what the common factor is? The slander and persecution of my stalkers. I might be wrong. I might just be in the wrong place, but I don’t think so entirely.
OK that’s enough. I’m going to go about my life today. I don’t know what is going on upstairs, but every time I pause to think about how I want to say something or how I want to change it, as soon as I go to try, they speak. It’s freaky. I’m not sure what is causing it, but it is invasive, and when I apply myself to it I feel guilty about resenting it because I think the whole thing might just be a manifestation of my bad conscience about what is happening between us. I don’t know if they have any authority from anyone actually behind them in this, I wonder if it is church, I wonder if it is mafia, I wonder if it is all sorts of things, or if they are just using things they have picked up from the media about how to keep me in check. Even with the Japanese crisis the media are still contriving to present it to make me believe reports to the police and mental health authorities are being submitted about me and I’d be best to watch my step. But it feels as if they are not saying it to me but about me, that is what is most frightening.
I know who some of the people are who read this, and I think they are very unkind, cynical and irresponsible, knowing this, not to communicate with me properly and directly. They see me fearing this and asking these questions and saying these things, and no concrete communication is made, just things that leave me feeling guilty and sheepish and disempowered because they are not actually given to me. In fact some of them, even in parliament, play the same game.
I know they use code. I had Something For The Weekend on last night and there was a clip about a counter-terrorism thing and I thought maybe the reason they get so upset is that it is code designed for counter-terrorism purposes. But then I think, ‘so what if it is? I’m not close enough to be in a position to say anything that will be harmful’. So why is it that every time I talk about someone, they come on looking guilty and caught out and defensive, or angry? Is it unrelated or related? Is it something to do with me, or is it just trickery, media and parliamentary? And church, I suppose. Should I have refrained from writing this when I was confronted on a very strong feeling level by an image of David Cameron in distress just as I was about to write about code?
I know the answer, the answer has to be ‘yes’. This is my rationale: my computer is being hacked; David would have known I was about to write about code but stopped; because I had stopped (and they even seem to know the things that go on in my head, so he would have known about the image as well and been moved by the fact that I allowed it to stop me) he would have sought me out directly to help me; because I didn’t stop, he won’t directly offer his help; if I hadn’t written, he still might not have offered his help, and I would still be stuck on my own with the burden of what I am thinking; he has tried so hard to make it clear in the past (this is part of my rationale) that he wants to help me, I feel so guilty, and because I am bound in my situation by this awful couple who physically invade my every thought, we could not possibly connect. Their silences after the invasions make me anxious, and that leads to a schizo moment where I am deeply convicted that everything I have just said is completely wrong. Are they praying, are they holding a seance, do they, or what the hell is going on here? This woman goes between sweet and acid just to keep control, and I can’t take it, it is making me really hysterical. I think she is impersonating my as well. I’ve had that a lot here. I’ve just realised that is probably why I feel hysterical, and that it might be empowering the manifestations, and I’m not sure what is empowering what, as far as the psychological interrogation is concerned. There are moments when I feel really happy about it and really bad for not accepting their love and friendship. But if I think about it, that has to be a media driven feeling, even a fellow blogger driven feeling, from what I have seen on the Christianity board. I wonder if the terror they inspire with the foul nature of their interrogation is what drives and empowers the ‘manifestations’. Every time I get strength, they speak or bang or adjust their position. It is like being sat on by gigantic toads. It’s all I ever see these people do when I am out as well. They never give themselves, it is always observe, mimic, adjust, observe, mimic, adjust. I’m sure I should find it funny and endearing, but it feels like some sort of demonic dance. And Oh God it is frightening. And the interjections, the sweet, clear as a bell interjections. She makes me feel it is me that is wrong. But I’m not harassing, I’m reacting. I feel really groggy and tired and sick. I was so afraid earlier at something that happened I was afraid to go out, they sound as if they could hurt me. I’ve felt like this for ages, both stripped and embarrassed under their gaze, and afraid and angry. I think she has lots of people in with her and they are keeping silent, and acting as if in a seance, or a prayer meeting resisting me, the devil. Otherwise why the banging? A single, intermittent sharp rap? I first came across that in hospital, from a male nurse with a mug. I just coughed, and the woman talking to Peter Dobbie acted as if she was trying verbally to seduce my neighbours. CliveNyrie was on a bit ago, and he went through all the stuff I’ve basically aid about him being an actor. He did the lot, slightly spaced reporter, raga, distinuished actor, he went through them all. At every break the woman upstairs shouts afresh, almost subliminally, but just enough for me to hear. it is spiritualism with violence. I know Bulgarian authorities are reading this. Please help me. These are criminals. If I leave they will do it to someone else. Me leaving should not be your answer. Please get this Christianese shouting spiritualist and her violent friends off of me. That is the right and lawful thing for you to do.
Peter Dobbie is affecting a facial twitch when he starts, I saw him deliberately put it on, in his session that just ended at 3.30 pm. After that he and his fellow staff were channeling me, I watched it all, I saw it all, my thoughts, my emotions. At the end he seemed as if he was in tears, like me, after my last paragraph, or close to, like me, then he paused, talked about cut off, and there were no tears in his voice. Every time I get my own emotions she cries out or strikes a surface up there, and people across the way shout out as well. I feel as if the whole community is ganged up on me, and I have no idea how many of these satanic animals are ganged up in the flat above me. And I daren’t go and see. They are pelting me with sound, both vocal and banging, from every corner of their apartment. This has to be wtichcraft, and if it is Christians praying against my wishes in a way which is obviously harassment, I have been taught in church that that is also witchcraft. So these Christain bastards who set out to manipulate me and make me feel guilty, are they now going to be true to their own teaching, or keep insisting I should be grateful for what is happening here? As for Peter Dobbie, it seems to me I have given him this power with me, and I would like to take it back. I’ve had some emails from Derek Acorah’s thing recently, after years of occasional emails to him which have never been answered and I have never received anything else from them, suddenly they are emailing me. I’m just saying it as a fact. I can’t put emotions in it. what they are doing upstairs is taking that ability from me. I would like to be angry and I think I am. And the people upstairs, I find their behaviour disgusting. When I let myself connect with that disgust I feel as if I begin to come back to myself. At least, I did just now. They started moving around a lot and moving chairs, while I was writing about Derek Acorah. I don’t want to have to connect with these people as people that I love. Their behaviour is appalling, violent, tormenting. If these people are Christians and right in what they are doing . . . I feel as if they are. Every time I come to a stopping place they bang. The weather forecast has just come on and someone rapped again, and this is the pattern. It will happen again in a few minutes as well, when the next change happens.
Tim Willcox just came on with an ‘I’m the man’ stance, and shed it as he went into his (all the right words escape me) script. Then he talked about an ‘injection’ of something into something, and he turned away on the word ‘injection, and turned back again. ‘Who is in control?’ The law says I should be. These people are psychologically abusive and criminal stalkers, whatever their motivation and however they feel about it. And however I do. They are whipping with their speech patterns in the same way that Bulgarian folk singing women do. And I feel certain they are courting my neighbours. I break away and they (BBC World News) seem to try to reconnect. Tim Willcox is a smooth savage. They all are. Their image with me is not what they care about, and they attack all the time. I could kill him, he is that violent.
Different streams first. I’m downloading the programme.
I wanted to hear what was happening really early on and tried to break in the middle of an advert or song, so I tuned into the live stream for a second. I heard a woman speaking, it sounded like Lizzie Crowe. The downloaded stream is different and the woman’s voice isn’t there. On the downloaded stream John says Lizzie is having a day off because she works on Saturday.
I’m wondering how long this has been happening and how many other stations do the same thing. Maybe that is why I don’t get many detailed responses to what I write, because the downloaded stream is different from what you get when you tune in and I sound either as if I am lying or am hallucinating.
I tried to upload an mp3 the other day. I got a message saying that kind of file is restricted for security reasons. I have the space upgrade and it is one of the allowed file types. I think for all of these people the industry, or their place in it, might be more important than the truth. I think if I tried to tell anyone, including Saints Tommy Boyd and Michael Mish, they would pretend they didn’t know what I was talking about. I left some comments on Michael’s youtube account (mmish2) on the video ‘monkey forest’ which I thought were obviously from me (we corresponded for a year and spoke on the phone a few times, and I felt he was the person who both restored my sanity and ability to stand up for myself, and who kept me sane. I felt he was a really good and beautiful and wise and sensitive friend. I still do), but he sent a note asking if he knew me from somewhere and has blocked me. They would blank me and treat me like an idiot. They have done it before, many people do. Tommy emerges with a post when he wants to comment on one of mine and make an impression, if he is the writer. Last night the comments were still there on Michael’s account. He might remove them now. He might change his account name. I hope he doesn’t, and if he loves me I hope he forgives me and re-establishes the relationship he said was over. Premier, at least for one, appears to be dealing in deception of a kind I wouldn’t have thought anyone would and didn’t know anyone did, and definitely not Christians.
I have no friends. It is an illusion, and I know now how abusive it has been, and how murderous. I have people I love, but they are not friends. They aren’t even brave or honest and are possibly illegal though they posture as respectable. John Pantry is nasty and needling, as well as criminal, and so are the people who hit me with flurries of computer and application crashes at significant times, like now. I’m now recording both streams. They know I’m into the performing arts and are trying to pass it off and make me value it as a creative response to a crisis, or at least make me believe that other people will value it on those terms. I believe that is another particularly devious and abusive aspect of their deception. The men were laughing and jeering. My recorder crashed or was crashed and I have lost my live stream recording, and I got confused and also wiped my download. John is savage. He tracks what I’m writing as I write it and talks with jeering, exalted ‘serves you right tones’ when something I am doing goes wrong.
They are into impersonation as much as the secularists and impersonate mental health and police authorities and adopt how dare you tones, look at what you’ve done tones. Because of what they have already done to me and allowed to be done to me, maybe, and in some cases definitely, even instructed people to do to me, I feel hysterical and as if they are grabbing and attacking me physically, from a distance, one that allows them to mock and make me believe they are getting away with it and that no one cares or will hold them to account, because that is what has been involved in my ‘management’ and ‘treatment’ so far, for over a decade, while the mental health authorities have been involved and utilised.
They are trying to make me believe no one will believe me or care or think it is significant even if they do. They are trying to make sure that even if they have to pay for what they have done and are doing, I myself will remain damaged in my mind and emotions for the rest of my life for opposing them, God’s anointed. That is what this kind of leader from their kinds of churches do and major on, it is how they teach. I’ve spent most of my life, about 40 years, exposed to this, closely and with very few breaks. It is vicious, malicious, cruel and deceitful. It is actually murderous. They know I understand the word ‘fantastic’ and am into etymology, and they are teasing me with it in its literal sense, that it is beyond belief. It is spiritual molestation equivalent in tone to a verbal guided fantasy of sexual molestation, and they are dangling in front of me the teaching I have most deeply and readily embraced and basically saying ‘hurt us and you lose this’. I’m talking about their teaching, but I hear my own, very strong, sexually referential undertones just as obviously as everyone else will, and they have blocked and accused me at that level for years.
At the beginning John prayed a prayer about the trust of children (I wrote this paragraph first, I now realise how deep and monstrous is their betrayal and abuse of trust). But little children don’t trust. They don’t have that awareness when they are first born. When they do come to awareness, they often still don’t trust. They just take things for granted as they are. You could say an abused child trusts, but they don’t really, they just don’t know anything different. I was an abused child, and frightened and miserable, but I didn’t know it could be different. Even if I experienced short periods of difference with other families, I didn’t know it could be different for me.
I think trust is often in spite of and is more an adult thing.
These people will pay for every life they sabotage. I pray God will hurt them for what they have done and are doing, as criminals, especially those who hold office and responsibility, always should be hurt and have to pay for what they have done to their victims. They say I can be free and healed. I believe that. But they have no right, as abusers and criminals, to offer me that. That is abusive and torturous in itself. I want them to suffer the consequences the law says they should.
I started to pray when I couldn’t bear what I was listening to anymore. At that point John said ‘put that sherry down, it’s too early’. I took it as aimed at me, and was frightened and upset. It was aimed at someone, and was symbolic in use. They don’t talk straight and accountably. Most of their audience is a victim of deception, and some of us helpless victims of their assumed stupidity and abuse because the other part of their audience wouldn’t believe that of them. They help the violent and abusive against me. Psychologically they help people to extort from me, their own violent members into whose hands I have fallen or been deliberately delivered. I’m fed up of wide boy pastors and people coming on clean cut while they criminally work me over and take everything they can.
BBC World News. 2.23 am UK time. Indian woman, Sharma or something. She’s been hitting me for about 15 minutes. She just went into an interview with Phil Mercer, who was part of Premier Radio at the beginning, saying ‘weelly’ for ‘really’, or something like that. More like ‘weech’ for ‘reach’.
It isn’t appropriate for me to care how anyone feels about the way I communicate about this. They shouldn’t be doing it. It is abusive and an assault. I believe it is also a crime. She came on talking like a Bulgarian (is that just coincidence as well?) I will care, and be hurt, they press all the right buttons. But it isn’t appropriate that I should care, though it is inevitable that I will be hurt. My neighbours are getting it in the neck, while I’m trying to go softly, softly with the people who are really hurting me and exploiting things.
There was a message in Bulgarian on my screen as well. I’ve never had that before. I’m wondering if it is from the cable company reminding me that payment is due, or something. Maybe I’ll be without tv and internet tomorrow.
I just changed my title to include superimposed. The Indian lady was suddenly close to tears. Is it appropriate that I should care???? She looks pleased. It’s the tears, it isn’t personal. I don’t know her, I only know what she is doing. And she does too. As she started to talk to Phil Mercer, and went into it with ‘weech’ for ‘reach’, her eyebrows twitched with recognised significance.
She’s fluffing her lines like Bulgarians fluff their speech sometimes. Sometimes it’s for power and sometimes it’s out of bewilderment. All the presenters are fluffing their lines in the same, uniform way at the moment.
Sometimes your speech gets scrambled. It doesn’t mean there is anything wrong, or does it? Is it just that your speech has been challenged at a deep level? I can’t remember when this started happening for me, I think it was here in Bulgaria. It might be a fear thing. I hear the anger, but I don’t understand its content, so I don’t know how to feel. So I suppose it is partly confusion.
I’m afraid, really afraid, that my neighbours might hurt me. They are getting as close as they can, hammering on my ceiling like that, so violently, so contemptuously, even when I’m asleep. And commenting every time I cough or any other sound is heard to escape from my body. Forgive me being so specific, but I need you to understand how this feels. I also wish that, instead of just reading, you would act responsibly. I know people read, it is in my statisitics, including the posts that are read and how many times. Yet most of the time you don’t coment or do anything, and if you did you might penalise me by going to mental health people instead of dealing with the perpetrators. The churches I have mentioned refer to the material on my blog all the time, and do nothing. So does everyone else, but the thing is, the church does, and not only does it stand back, it takes part in the stalking. Someone did it back to Bruce Atkinson two Sunday nights ago. I think from what I saw they began to get the message. But no one showed any reaction to the incident that I was aware of, until after I watched my recording a week later, last Sunday afternoon, then in the evening Nottingham Christian Centre was all of a flutter, so I suppose they were hacking my computer to know that I had seen it finally, or they found out from somewhere. I think I had seen it in time for the 2.30 pm service at Kensington Temple, because that is when I think I saw them react.
I told the estate agents I thought my neighbours were going to the media and taking money instead of going to the police, because of what I’m hearing from BBC World News, specifics about what is happening here and how I react. I told them what is happening in the media and what has been happening for years, including my time here. One of the presenters on the BBC World News was speaking really sweetly then escalated to loud and aggressive and driving, and as they did my neighbour from upstairs hammered on my ceiling, and when I shouted back he hammered again, and when I kept going he hammered again, and he won’t go to the police, although I’ve suggested he should, even if angrily, and the man on now, 5.38 pm UK time, is doing all the subtle word substitutions and talking about schitz. These are evil savages, both those in the studio co-operating, and it is obviously knowingly, and those doing the driving and the cut offs behind them.
I’m afraid my neighbours might try to hurt me. I’ve made it clear that I believe they are talking to the media and taking money. I feel stupid, but I also feel afraid to go out.
I can’t contact my landlord, and I know the police and the British Embassy don’t respond. I’ve done all that as well. And the media – soft, purring, presumptuous, alternated with violent and aggressive, swine.
BBC World News have been clawing at me all afternoon. Brainwashing with violence. There was a programme made up of emails, I think, which did a role call of many significant names in my life, with no exceptions I was aware of, they were all significant, and they ended with my own name. Weekend World. I can’t contact my landlord.
I am being psychologically attacked from every side. Every time I do something different in my apartment, the woman upstairs shouts and they bang. The whole situation, including with the media, is literally taking my oxygen and I can’t breathe and my chest hurts and I can’t cope.
On top of that, today I am watching Nik Gowing on ‘The Hub’ on BBC World News, and just as I began to get my breath, at exactly the moment, he banged on his desk. He does this a lot, but until this incident I hadn’t seen him do it today. His body language is very violent, so is his speech, and I believe it is deliberate, and has been as long as I have been aware of him, which is several months. They all do it, Peter Dobby is at it now, and they have a laugh in their voices as they do it.
You don’t have to take my word for it. If you don’t already watch them, I suggest you should start and see for yourselves. Not just today, but consistently. I hope you will. It might help me if they know other people are watching this with intelligence and awareness. I can’t take it. I shouldn’t have to. It’s deliberate, it’s evil, it’s mockery, and now they are coming on so jovial and stuff, you just want to hit them, don’t you? Yes you do, it’s natural. You don’t do it, either because you can’t or because you have self-control. But you want to. Because they are so violent and evil.
I want them dead. They are playing the ‘bait and switch’ game. I want them dead. That’s how they want me to feel. And they want me to say it, as I have, and they want my readers to think it is me that is dangerous, because I have a mental health diagnosis. At the very least they use that fear to keep me under control.
I’m afraid. They are really hurting me. I’m sure that is what they want. They are having a laugh, and I can’t breathe and my chest hurts.
When I first started typing this, Nik Gowing’s voice took on a note of appeal. It’s gone now. I wonder if he was aware that I was typing this post? Past experience tells me he probably was, and I hope he continues to expose himself, because he is really thuggish and evil.
Edit note 6.07 pm UK time:
Someone said a little while ago to keep up with the dissonances. I know it is deliberate. The apparent stuttering is also deliberate. Notice what the mistaken and half-finished words are, when it happens.
Tanya Beckett was on not long ago, doing the cat act, which has also been agreed. She looks a lot like Jeni Barnett who is now on BBC Radio London and used to be on LBC 97.3 FM. I’m sure Ms Beckett must know that. On LBC they also have, or used to have, other people named the same as me and my neighbours in London.
But just before I started this note Peter Dobby said ‘are’ the same way as they did on ‘Strictly Come Dancing’, with the same emphasis and hesitation, and in the same way that Tommy Boyd used to say it on his programme when he said, ‘I can make you say ‘ah’, and he was talking about an energy point or Chakra point or something like that, just below the navel. He (Peter Dobby) followed it up with, ‘no more protests’, as if he was giving an instruction or a rebuke, looking intently and almost querulously at the camera as if he is looking for someone and knowing, I believe, that what he has said is something associated with Tommy Boyd, and I believe he knows it is true for me. He then said the name ‘Christian’ almost as if he was spitting it out in hatred and disdain.
As I started the last paragraph he said a different sentence with the same emphasised pause, then he immediately went into a rushing river of words. They do this a lot as well, and I believe deliberately, and because I know that I find it more dislocating than other people might, but they probably experience the same thing to a lesser degree. I think they are affecting the charismatic/pentecostal activity of speaking in tongues, it’s a deliberate imitation.
They are also mixing my stuff together with sentences they insist on like, ‘the police have been told to go in and to use force’, and it’s making me think that that instruction has been given concerning me, because I have said in this blog, even today, that that has happened to me before. It is completely covert to people who do not know, and they keep a poker face throughout. It is very, very unkind and savage. It is partly why I am having so many painful stress symptoms, apart from the harassment or at the very least insensitivity to other people’s privacy that I’m getting from my neighbours. I’m obviously afraid – as you can see, I am feeling obliged to compromise my communication of what I believe I know. It’s psycholinguistic torture – brainwashing and control, if you like. I’m frightened. If the Bulgarian police do come, I hope they are sympathetic and will help me on my terms. I hope they haven’t been told to come in and use force. I haven’t checked my email over the last few hours, but the last time I looked I still hadn’t had any answers to the emails I sent to the British Embassy and my housing association, which they asked me for. They deliberately, I am sure, do everything they can to sound as if they are vomiting and gagging up, apart from everything else, and it is savage and insulting and deliberately provocative. They put their faces up at the cameras and their whole attitude is saying, ‘what are you going to do about it?’ They follow one pattern of speech for about 10 seconds, then switch to another completely opposite. They are the world’s rubbish and shouldn’t have any hand in the news or location work where there is unrest. I can’t stop them, I wish I could. I know it’s deliberate and so do others. And people like Premier Radio make it worse, because they retaliate, that was what got me in the first place, taking their retaliation to the secular media onto myself and thinking it was aimed at me. Was it? I’m not sure. But the secular media still has no excuse.
I’ve wondered about the way they are saying ‘Bahrain’, with the glottal stop. Because David Cameron let fly at Ed Miliband with a glottal stop in Prime Minister’s Question Time yesterday, and I’m thinking it might have been connected. Ed replied or retaliated with, ‘the man (or the one) who made the tree’ and the tone was religious. This happens a lot. I heard a female MP during their broadcast recently say that this government doesn’t talk straight, it talks in code. That wasn’t me, that was an MP. But I believe she is right.
I think media people vocally affect pain as well, and so do people in Parliament. To victims of their stalking who have real and legitimate pain, this is very offensive and provocative. The croaky, cracking voices and everything. It’s almost as if they feel it momentarily and deliberately seek to express it vocally because they like the fact that they feel it, it’s a feeling to be proud of. It hurts me so much because I have been taken in by it for so long, and I think that gives them pleasure to know I understand that and they want to increase the pain I feel. Their rushing, aggressive speech – OMG. I really believe they are deliberately trying to make violent, harsh and coarse speech and speech patterns the acceptable thing. Unless, as I said, I’m just privileged to have heard people like Michael Mish. But I don’t think it is just that. They also play with early cut-offs. I’ve just remembered that because they have just played an advert that does exactly that, and I’ve noticed it before, it always cuts off early. Cats are never cut off, any hint of refinement and culture is, if it seems genuine. They go soft and intimate then immediately go into almost yelling things like ‘very disturbing’, like the sports reporter just did (6.50 pm UK time). It’s psychological terrorism. And it’s deliberate and criminal, whether it is the media, the politicians or the church. It seems like a deliberately affected, constant ebb and flow of tone and content. It’s a wall of words, and is intended to be a wall, and impenetrable.
They have been talking for a while, with a tone of significance, hesitation and almost derisive humour, about objects controlled by thought as well. I repeat, all of this I am writing today are just a very few examples of what they do constantly.
Zeinab Bedawi is the same. In fact, I might as well stop naming people (which is easy now I have swtiched off their provocation). Zeinab Bedawi is the person on now, but they all do it. I don’t think it is just tiredness and the pressure of the job, I think it is a deliberate stream of anger, hatred, contempt and defiance, even when it seems humorous, and the hope and assumption seems to be that if they all do it no one can challenge them. For some of them at least it thinly veils fear.
Greg Dyke, the old director of the BBC until 2007, was on Newsnight last night. In view of my last few posts, at least, please check out his embarrassed and guilty body language.
I get embarrassed about the time I waste or have stolen from me trying to deal with this, because the defiance continues and I think they love it.
But in some ways the worst thing is the Bulgarians. For 14 months now, when I speak, every time my voice starts to become strong they start imposing their own voices. Even in this block, it’s like a deliberate vocal struggle. Apart from the man next door who banged sharply on my wall after only my 2nd day here, that’s what started it. They yell first thing in the morning, and yell again in intimidating anger last thing at night, and comment at every sound they hear from my apartment, apart from which they are silent most of the time. Do I yell back? Yes, of course I do, I’m human and I get desperate, especially when it is so invasive. That is when they descend into absolute silence, unless strength comes into my voice and then they ride it. I wasn’t here under official communism, I still wonder if it was one of the torture techniques used. Or if it is plain, gross stupidity and idiocy.
People like Colin Dye at Kensington Temple I detest, because he takes things like this and throws it back at me, with all the cut throat trickery he knows from his media experience.
I can’t stand it. It’s like keep going at her until she shouts, then go silent unless you hear ‘that voice’, then ride it. I feel really sick and I think they are going to try and arrest me under the mental health act.
Someone came this afternoon. I didn’t answer the door, I was afraid. I was typing as well. I wasn’t expecting anyone, so I wasn’t legally obliged to answer the door. They rang once and went away. I was convinced it was the police. Then I realised that I really didn’t have any idea who it was. And if it had been someone who only spoke Bulgarian, whoever they were, and they were angry and forceful. . . Most people would say that as a single woman in a situation like this it was probably best not to answer the door. As it is I’m frightened that one of my neighbours will come out one day and hurt me. But at the very least I am constantly embarrassed, and I was in pain as well.
I still believe everything I have said in the rest of this post. And my chest still hurts. And so does my stomach. And I feel sick and afraid. I know what I have had to deal with in the past, at least with my housing association. Maybe also with the British Embassy. I’m physically sick with the stress. I’m not mentally ill. Stress is not a mental illness, especially when dealing with something like this.
I went to Billa two days ago. One of the workers there, a blonde man, came up and positioned himself beside me and started talking and yelling aggressively. When I tried to complain to someone who was called who spoke English, and my voice developed strength and direction, the man started to shout over me again. Not at me, but over me, as if he was calling out against me. I’ve had that numerous times here. There appears to be no point trying to challenge it. I don’t think anyone wants to listen. I think they would rather lock me away and make me take drugs for schizophrenia, than deal with other people’s behaviour towards me. I’m frightened and I feel dishonest. People, including my politicians, have postured as trying to help me, subliminally, and now I think they are turning the tables on me. But because it has been coded and subliminal I can’t prove anything. I almost feel as if this time I’m going to die or really lose my mind or something. That something is going to be done to me which will destroy me. I can’t do hospital, the nurses shout and hammer on doors, and I’m a vegan, and my stomach hurts. I’m terrified and feel like passing out. If they come at me with drugs, after all this, I swear I’ll go mad. God help me, don’t let them hurt me. Not anymore, please. You are my only help. If someone comes at me without You, they come at me with no ability to help.
One of the nurses on the ward, Simon, if he started getting tearful and upset, he would make a big, loud and inaccessible joke of it and talk about ‘filling up’, instead of stopping to examine his feelings and why he was feeling them. I asked him about it once. He fobbed it off, communicated something to the others then a little while later deliberately reimposed it in his conversation. I’m scared to go back to that. I feel as if my back is breaking. Please don’t anyone make me go back to that. And they don’t even cater for a vegan diet, at all. But if they decide that’s what they want to do to me, they won’t care about that and will treat me as a nuisance. I saw it with someone else. They mocked her for what she called her ‘food allergies’, she had to buy food for herself, and if she felt ill and in pain, which was often, they bullied her, constantly and unashamedly complaining about her and telling her off.
At one point I seemed to be getting on well and normally with people on the ward, including one older lady, and Simon said quite openly, ‘we’ve got to get it back’, but he wasn’t talking to us, just for us, or me, to hear, so it seemed. One day he did what I had never seen him do, he came and sat silently in the day room, where there was just me and this woman. He sat at the table at the other end, apparently reading a newspaper, and he didn’t say hello or anything, and he sat there for ages, apparently listening to the conversation, but never contributing to it or doing or saying anything to be polite and acknowledge us. I found it intimidating and upsetting and offensive, and when our relationship broke down he didn’t do it anymore. He did it a couple of times at least. His presence was so imposing without him acknowledging us or what he was doing that it made the conversation strained.
I once wanted some music on in the day room, I didn’t normally because it was Christian and I didn’t want to impose it on everyone else. But I didn’t have my CD player, it had been taken for ‘electrical checking’ which was normal procedure, so I decided that, since everyone else played their music in there, I could play mine as well. The girl with the food allergies came in and said she wanted to play something else, and when I said I wanted to listen to mine she found fault with it and said it wasn’t even good quality Christian music (that it could at least have been good Gospel music, but it was Vineyard style, or Noel Richards, which is not so loud in style, it’s in many ways more laid back and less ‘in your face’ and aggressive) and she started finding fault with Christianity and shouting and arguing. A few minutes later she said to Simon that I was a control freak. Simon said ‘tell me about it!’ I had never played my music in the day room until then, and she just wanted me to take it off. But I didn’t see why I should have to. It might have been a kind thing to do, or not, but I didn’t want to have to back down all the time and there was nowhere else I could play it.
What I am saying is, I don’t want to go back to that, and to the staff engaging in that kind of prejudice against me. And as a vegan (which just means ‘strict vegetarian’, no animal products, there are plenty of other excellent options) I don’t want to be locked up in a hospital with no way to get what I need, which I would have to buy myself because they don’t cater for the diet, and it wouldn’t be cooked in meal form, because the cooker that used to be there was taken away for security reasons and they won’t do it for you. That is no existence for someone you insist is ill and needs to be treated on your terms and not their own.
Yes, I over-react to things sometimes. Yes, I make a mountain out of a molehill sometimes. But not always. And anyone else having to deal with the same pressures and treatment from officials they are dependent on might do exactly the same thing. We are like animals under observation and naughty children to be dealt with accordingly, and behind those doors, particularly, they are very open about that and make no effort to hide their attitudes towards us. That includes the psychiatrists themselves. They will glower and tease and contradict, and if I became hysterically angry one of them would get angry at me for shouting and say he was going to have me arrested.
I know there are people in the media who will love using this against me. That’s why my communication is messed up. Basically no one acknowledges anything I say until I am pushed into crisis, then they descend on me in force and lock me up. Not only what I say on this blog, but what I say in emails as well, even ones they have asked me for. While I know that other people acknowledge what is happening and recognise it, as soon as I feel I have reason to be afraid I am going to get a police visit under the mental health act I forget all that and feel very isolated and afraid. Suddenly my anger and certainty means nothing, because they can just invalidate it in the taking of my freedom. They present later as not having wanted to do that and having needed to do it for my own safety (or that of others) so it makes me feel my anger and certainty are the problem. The authorities certainly give the impression that they think so. They call it paranoia.
People like to make a big thing out of saying you shouldn’t call people evil. I don’t know if it hurts their feelings or not, but if it does that is all it does. If they call people psychotic and dangerous, without proof and having got their facts wrong (but if we say so they call us liars and devious), the consequences for us are far worse. So if we give it back, even believing it is true but embarrassed because we can just as easily, a few hours later, decide it isn’t true – if they can do what they do and we, I, do what I do, why should I be penalised for it, when no one really cares or acts on what I say anyway, while they can call me dangerous and psychotic and take away my freedom and abuse me behind closed doors? If that is going to happen again, it isn’t right and it never has been.
I don’t want to go back to a situation where I am bullied and neglected by a social landlord when I’m also getting it from the community. It freezes my thinking. At least here, if I believed I was safe from these people in the UK, I could think a little bit. Although I vent on here, my emotions and the pain in my mind are nowhere near as great as they are in London. Maybe that is why I feel more physical pain.
If it was the police earlier, I still don’t know what they wanted and who sent them. They might not have come to arrest me under the mental health act, and all of this fear and trauma might be unnecessary. It has been caused by lack of appropriate official communication. But maybe they think it is appropriate to keep me in the dark if they intend to arrest me, and just keep turning up and one day force entry. Maybe they are afraid I will abscond and they want to keep the upper hand and the element of surprise and uncertainty. That’s what they normally do. No one is talking to me, just banging and shouting and commenting, and officially I don’t know what is happening. I have been handled this way for years, and it contributes to the anger I bring to everything else. I’m constantly nervous and afraid, and I bottle it up for so long until I’ve had enough and vent in anger. People around me do it at me. I shouldn’t be singled out as the problem.
My fear of police violence here is offset by my own shame that I am not able to understand their language and culture. As always, I think all of this is my responsibility. However bad people are to me, I think it is my fault for not understanding. I feel that way with everyone. And I think that if only I would acknowledge my own wrong doing then everything would be all right for me and none of this would happen. That if I would recognise their official responsibilities and cut them some slack things would go better for me. But I’ve tried that and been ignored, repeatedly, and now it feels as if they are saying, ‘just this one step further’ and I feel guilty, and at the same time I have been accused of things I have never done. They have the ability to make me feel guilty for what I feel is my lack of response. They lift things off my computer. I really believe that.
Someone on The Daily Politics or Newsnight yesterday said that the Coalition is doing things with indecent haste, and I have heard people say that about them before. In this case the man said that what should normally take 6 months is being passed in 11 weeks. He put it down to the deficit crisis. But at the same time he called it ‘indecent haste’. I wonder what the shortcuts and evasions are that are involved in such a truncation. Indecent haste. I’ve had that for years. I do believe media people’s speech is deliberately aggressive and that that is why I am having trouble communicating. The aggression is behind the hospital doors as well. If I’m supposed to be ill I don’t want to be there, I want some peace and quiet and space to think, not drugs forced on me by people who do nothing to hide their fear and contempt, when all is said and done, and even before all is said and done. Someone please listen to me and honour that.
I’ve just updated this, it is 5.15 am on Friday morning. As soon as I pressed the update button there was a bang from upstairs, like a chair clattering or something. At this time in the morning that might be reasonable. But it is the constant coincidence of this kind of thing, given everything else, which really terrifies me and freaks me out. The psychiatrists call it ‘auditory hallucinations’. I think they used to call it that as well when they would see me weighing up in my mind what I was experiencing and hearing with them compared with what I heard in church and read in the Bible. Especially if the difference, and thinking the church was involved in what was happening to me, freaked me out, they would say that I seemed to be responding to ‘auditory hallucinations’. I think on the whole I have to become more secure and smile when I feel afraid, instead of giving in to the fear. I’m sure it would make life much easier, at least while I don’t have the TV or radio on.
I don’t feel able to comment on my feelings about these revelations, if they are true.
However, this is obviously a tit for tat move by whoever it was that made it. I am supposing that the leaks, authorised or not, must have come from someone inside the police force.
The obvious problem with this, it seems to me, is that this is an official body leaking details of allegations against an individual, before they have even been proved or the man found guilty.
I watched a video clip on Saturday of Mr Assange speaking via video link to a conference in Australia, and he said that ‘we believe in transparent power, not transparent individuals’.
I don’t like that either/or approach these days. It’s what is known as a false dichotomy, I think, or is at least along the same lines. It’s the ‘you have a choice between 2 options’ line, and it is always used to force a decision, I think, and closes down a person’s thinking. A little bit of wry, naughty humour coming in while I am writing, I think the best way to deal with this if you are faced with it might sometimes be to choose the option you know the person presenting the choice doesn’t want you to choose, if they are not open to reason. Then they have to deal with it, not you. If they are not open to reason, why would you want to go with them anyway? It’s manipulative and coercive, although the person presenting the option doesn’t always realise that, they think it is the way to do it, sometimes. It’s main concern, I think, is the maintenance of a method or way of doing things, or power of some description.
But there are three alleged offenses here, two of them obvious and one of them not. The two obvious ones are the leaks from both Wikileaks and the police. the one which isn’t obvious because not provable is the sexual offenses allegations.
Out of these three, if all of them are true, how many of them actually stand as crimes right now without further investigation?
If interception of communications and computer hacking are held to be crimes, Wikileaks has obviously committed a crime right there. But possibly the government can’t afford to be too strong on that one, because the government has a policy to use that. I think they have used it with me, a private individual, without my knowledge. Because they suspected me of something or thought I might be some sort of a threat? I don’t know. They have never told me and have refused to talk about it, referring me to mental health agencies whenever I have asked how I can find out if it is happening (Joan Ruddock’s senior case worker). I repeat, for saying I thought it might be happening and asking how I could find out, I was referred to mental health agencies and told they did not know how I could find out. If the government wants to continue to hide this kind of thing, it isn’t going to major on the hacking itself as being a crime. It will major on the security risks of the actual information leaked (which apparently, according to a news programme I watched yesterday, Mr Assange first presented to the government, who refused to talk to him, before he actually leaked the information. I suppose they knew he was a computer hacker at that point, and they made no effort to have him arrested for that, so I suppose they do not see that as a crime or, if they do, it is one they are also committing and it would therefore be too embarrassing for them to have him accused of the same thing. The leaks talk about Hillary Clinton, for example, getting passwords to the accounts of people in the UN).
I think computer hacking is a crime, whoever does it, and that both of these bodies, Wikileaks and the government, are guilty of the same crime, by their own admission and policy. But they have ruled that out of the equation. Instead, one could theorise, the pursuit of Mr Assange has been diverted to a pursuit over sexual allegations, in order to get him for everything else? If there is a real security breach, why have they not acted sooner on that nderstanding, and if he has committed a crime over that, in any way, why have they not arrested him for that, and not just for the sex allegations? Is it because English law does not consider he has committed a crime, and that is why extradition to Sweden, for questioning, in spite of his constant (so we are told) co-operation with the police over the sexual allegations, is being considered as a first step in enabling an illegal rendition to the USA where he might find himself either in Guantanamo or condemned to death? This is what is being presented. This whole process is being presented as illegal, by his lawyers. If it is illegal the UK should not be supporting it, because in doing so we become an accessory to a crime.
The sex allegations, even if they are true, are complicated by some factors, and might not be able to be proved as rape. If the accounts are true, it would appear there was obviously a relationship in the context of which it happened. I think it is not possible to make an assessment and come to a conclusion about his motivation, if it happened. It says she normally wanted him to wear a condom, and he didn’t, but when awake she allowed him to continue. Not knowing myself how long it was after this that the allegation of rape was made, I can’t guess at why she made it. But she allowed him to continue. Maybe on hindsight she realised it had been rape and felt differently. To my mind, if she was asleep when it happened, and it was in a way which she had made clear she didn’t want (unprotected) it seems obvious rape might be a reasonable thing to call it. But at the moment, according to what I have read, that is under debate as the question of whether what happened while she was asleep counts as rape ‘has not been tested by the justice system’. If it happened. If it did I think possibly it should be judged as rape. Swedish law says that sometimes it would be, but in this case it has been thrown out by judges and I don’t know why. But personally (not with legal knowledge) I also think his intention and understanding of the relationship at the time should be taken into account. But (if it happened) he knew she didn’t want unprotected sex (if I have read it right). So he would have to be judged mentally incapable, it seems to me, if the allegations were upheld and they were not treated as rape. I keep saying ‘if it happened’. That is my personal point of ignorance. I don’t know if he has acknowledged anything. Everything I am writing is based on an assumption that he has not agreed that any of this happened. That might be where my argument falls completely to pieces, but it might not.
Out of the three things involved, the sexual allegations, the leaks made by Wikileaks and the leaks made by the police, if we dismiss the issue of computer hacking about which there appears to be no legal clarity acknowledged, it seems to me there is only one indisputable crime, the leaks made by the police about the allegations made against Mr Assange. I find it so enormously monstrous I can hardly address it. This has to be the dirty tricks department at its worst.
It seems to me it compromises the trial. It seems to me it is a gross breach of Mr Assange’s human rights (and also those of the women who have brought the allegations), and it is gross professional misconduct. I don’t have to like any of what I am saying or think that I personally have a right to say it for it to be true. If it is true, whether or not I have a right to say it doesn’t alter that fact. It is an attempt to short-circuit the process of law, and probably in this case something even worse. Perhaps I can’t make a categorical statement because perhaps the law is not this clear. Not being a lawyer I don’t know. But I think this is a clear case of perverting the course of justice, from whoever was responsible within the Swedish police force for the decision to release this information.
As a victim of computer hacking, I can’t condone the methods used by Wikileaks. This may appear simplistic, who decides what the ‘right hands’ are and on what basis, and what can you do when those hands become the wrong hands? But that does not mean that the course of justice should be perverted in the way the organisation or its founder is dealt with. People speak against Anarchy. But this is Anarchy from the top down, against the people they govern. It is something I have experienced personally for over a decade, to my own knowledge. I’m a Christian. We need help. We are in trouble, and maybe we always have been. Maybe it only seems so bad to me, now, because this is when I am alive and experiencing it.
In the Book of Ezra, when the people are brought back to God, a call goes out, ‘to the word, and to the testimony’. I’m not sure – I’ve just become sure. I think this is applicable here because, however much the law is subject to change, what we do now needs to be based on the law as it is now, not as we would like it to be, and what happened in the past should be judged on the laws that were applicable then, not now, with regards to monitoring people’s communications. That is the position of the European Court of Human Rights Act. To me that seems just and the only way to maintain order and accountability in the way things are dealt with. I love my leaders (at least, they make me feel that way. They make me feel they love me too). It is hard for me to say I think they have run riot, but I do. The recovery we need is not only financial. I believe that, as a society, we are in serious trouble.
Final note: I realised while tagging this that I have forgotten to take the Freedom of Information Act into account. Everyone is emoting over this, including Hillary Clinton (you can be an emotional woman for the war but not against it?), but it seems possible to me, not having kept up with any of this, that the information contained in the leaks should have been available anyway under the Freedom of Information Act introduced by Tony Blair, but it wasn’t. I’m not sure how the Freedom of Information Act works in relation to the Official Secrets Act and whether some of the ‘spade a spade’ brigade would be right in calling the Freedom of Information Act a Mickey Mouse thing anyway. But if the information contained in the leaks should have been available and wasn’t, and if the government turned Mr Assange away anyway when he went to them with it, it is dishonest that these people, who definitely would have known he knew this before the leaks were made, should now be presenting theselvesas so much ‘up in arms’ about it. That is downright hypocrisy (sorry, I’m getting angry).
Tony Blair was quoted as saying he wishes he had never introduced the Freedom of Information Act and that it was one of the worst things he ever did. He is entitled to feel that and entitled to his opinion. But his feelings and opinion do not make the Wikileaks revelations wrong if, under that act, the information should have been available. We can’t say, “Tony wishes he had never done it, so we can call the Wikileaks leaks a risk to security and get cross about it”, if the informations should have been available anyway. Maybe it shouldn’t have been, ma ybe there are exceptions under the Official Secrets Act to the Freedom of Information Act’s applicability to this kind of information, but I don’t know and I haven’t heard it discussed. But if there is no exception there is no case against Wikileaks or Mr Assange for this unless it is computer hacking and invasion of privacy, and those are much lesser charges. And to be extradited for questioning, at least in this case of sex allegations, is being presented as illegal, and he is supposed to have co-operated freely all along anyway, so excuse me, can someone please tell me what this is all about???? He’s not Jesus and he might be completely unsavoury in so many ways, but why is this being done to this man???? (I’ll keep my swearing to myself on this occasion). And who else would they do it to if they got away with doing it to him? It’s called setting a precedent. We can’t let it happen. Wake up, everyone. Reality calls. Possibly a man’s life is at stake, illegally. Does anyone care?
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This matters to me so much partly because the last set of leaks from Wikileaks came at a time which felt personally significant for me, and so I feel implicated in whatever happens to Mr Assange. In his communications he has used some references which are very easy for me to apply personally, including one about saving the whales not being the issue, but the freedom of information involved in making the decision. For me that is very close to home, because one of Michael Mish’s musicals is called “The Boy Who Talked to Whales”, and for me the whale was, more than anything else, about the freedom of the human spirit. That was how I understood it. I am not saying that was Michael Mish’s intention. Michael is, among other things, an environmentalist. He could actually be offended (though I don’t think so) that what for him is a serious environmental issue is being reduced (or expanded) in that way, without regard for the issue itself.
There were other touch points in his address to the conference in Australia as well. So whether or not I have been manipulated into this by a form of stalking, I do feel responsible for what happens to him, because I have believed that, if he released the leaks at the time he did in order to help me, he did so understanding the risks he might be taking. Believing that to be a possibility I cannot be silent. I know that someone handling his communication reads my blog and I hope they will contact me.
Available until 7.30 pm tonight. Get it quickly. She is or has been a practising psychologist, and she has also been involved in what has been happening to me. That makes it criminal as an artist an certainly as a psychologist.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00y4y8l/The_One_Show_27_01_2011/
I haven’t said anything for ages. I’ve known since the last series of ‘Strictly Come Dancing’. There is another psycholgist called Doctor Pam Spur (it might have 2 ‘r’s) who stood in for Tommy Boyd a couple of times, and she was talking about stuff like ‘walking the dog’ in the afternoon show, which could be taken as a sexual reference. At the time the producer or whoever it was working with her was furious, I think he could see it wasn’t right for her to be doing that, on whatever level he understood it. It was for BBC Southern Counties Radio.
Call me stupid if you like, but the reason I haven’t said anything about Pamela Stevenson is because I didn’t want to hurt her husband, Billy Connelly. I’m a complete sucker for other people’s pain and it can keep me silent for ages. I’ve seen his act on the tv a few times, I’ve heard him talk about his background, and there seems to be something really fragile about him. I thought if I said anything about his wife it would hurt him, so I kept quiet.
She has been using Jean Darnall’s personality for ages, even while she was dancing. There was a girl called Stevenson at a school I used to go to (I won’t identify her any further than that), and Pamela wears her hair in exactly the same way. This girl was close friends with a teacher friend of mine who died a few years ago with a brain haemmorhage, and who has also been used by the media. All of us were connected with the same drama group.
One of my concerns in this programme is that Pamela talks about authority going back to the GP in relation to the mental health system, and she said they were not trained to be able to make a diagnosis of mental illness. But I believe that she herself has been involved with the stalking, and yet there she is wanting to make the right to diagnose mental illness an exclusive and specialised thing. But she has abused her position. But if ordinary practitioners are told that they are unable to work with this kind of thing adequately, if someone approaches them and says this is happening to them they are probably referred back to the mental health system and the GP has probably been told not to get involved. That isolates the patient, if everyone else is being told to leave it to the professionals.
I apologise, I was tired ages ago of trusting that, if i tried to be discreet, someone would respect that and try and step in to help. So now I am condemned, even if by no one other than myself, for my lack of discretion. I like Billy Connelly – oh what rubbish, I’ve only ever seen him on the telly!
OK, the thing is, right, I agree wiv Tony Smiff.
If the workers aren’t going to get a fair cut of the profits reflected in their wages so they can take full responsibility for their needs themselves, then companies should be made to pay by the government. That is just normal human common sense. A common sense of what is right.
This is my answer to Jeremy Paxman’s question about how do you determine what is morally right when they are already obeying the law, and Tony kept saying it, that the law needs to be changed.
The law is not written in stone. It evolves. It evolves either by force or by common consent. Common consent is better (we all know what is morally acceptable in this kind of situation), but if interested parties and rulers won’t give easily, pressure has to be put on them to make them give. That is my understanding of how every change in the law has come about. When the law is seen as not reflecting a widely accepted sense of morality, and when people suffer as a result, eventually that law must be changed. Come on, Jerry, me old mate, you know that, what are you trying to do? I think he was just being mischievously provocative, and great respect to Tony Smith for holding his ground in the terms he was able to do so.
I felt a real sense of exhileration when I saw the protests. I thought they had good energy and also a very powerful cross section of society represented. I thought I would love to be there and be involved, then I excused myself on the grounds that it might be used to put me back in hospital, then I thought excusing myself was cowardly and I should be there. Good for these people, more power to them. Power to their cause, at the very least. Hopefully they won’t need to protest in this way for too long before our leaders see sense. But I thought that what was shown on film was absolutely great.
Hey, what happened to our new freedom to protest peacefully? That woman they dragged out, the one who said it was disgraceful, did she actually do anything wrong? I don’t mind our leaders holding on to power, but they need to remember they are exercising that power for us, all of us, not just the people who head up the producing and finance machine. Bugger this, I’m going to argue like a woman because I am a woman, and you can call it emotional blackmail if you like, but how are things fair when the law allows such inequality that at one end people live the jetset lifestyle from the profits they make out of people who work for them and buy from them, one of whom, a few weeks ago, lost her daughter to swine flu because her age and health category were not catered for by the government to be vaccinated against it?
I fear this Baran guy represents a group which will ignore any conscience it has as long as it is allowed to.
Here is something I didn’t act on at the time, and perhaps that is now to my shame and makes my argument and stance a little less persuasive, but I can still remember how it felt emotionally at the time.
I have never been so well off financially as I have been over the last 14 years, since I started getting Income Support plus an additional allowance built in for severe disability, Disability Living Allowance and Housing Benefit for a flat which cost me about £350 per month, plus a Freedom Pass for travel on London Transport and many local bus networks nationally. I sat down a few years ago, when I wanted to work out my tithe, when I tithed to the Church, and worked out that the whole package was worth about £13,000. As I said, I have never been financially so well off. It is probably worth a little less now as my Freedom Pass has lapsed and I pay for my own travel expenses. I always felt guilty about having it anyway, as I did about all my benefits. Funny how they can slap a label on you and refuse to take it off which means you qualify for benefits, then make you feel like a shirker with some fancy footwork. This label and the power everyone is society can and does wield with it is one of the most distressing things in my life.
But one year early on, on and around budget day when they were talking about the plight of pensioners and insulting increases to their pensions, I wanted to approach the government (to which I remain thankful for this financial provision) and tell them that I didn’t need everything I was getting myself to live on and that, in view of the plight of pensioners at the time, I wanted to be able to give something back to the government for it to be given to the pensioners. I wanted to find out if there was a mechanism for those kinds of voluntary donations to be used for those not so well-provided for. I still don’t know if such a mechanism exists, and if it does I missed the opportunity to use it.
But my point is, that was me, on £13,000 a year, believing I was stuck for the rest of my life in rented accommodation in a basement flat that I wanted to make work because I and everyone around me had a right that it whould work, and I looked at someone less well off than me and wanted to give back a portion of my own benefits to help them. But these people who cream off millions and billions don’t even acknowledge they have that in their hearts and argue for the ‘right’ to maintain the legality of the present financial status quo.
I am sure that people make charitiable donations, but that can’t be the security of the people who need that charity. It has to be formal and legalised, something they are entitled to, not just something they should be grateful for. I don’t understand economics or, at least, I have never been taught. Would doing something like that lead to eventual fiancial ruin and insecurity for everyone? Or just redress the balance in a way which is obviously needed and, to the uninitiated into the mysteries of economics, like myself, looks like such an easy and obvious thing to do?
I wish you well and speedy success. Would they want to kill me if I went and lived in an isolated area? Sorry, I know that sounds stupid, but they have already called me a prostitute and things to people I loved. I’m just wondering how far they might go.
I’m looking at an isolated house near Sofia at the moment. It looks gorgeous and lovely, but although I came looking for space, I’m now more than a little afraid.
So I wish you speedy success and hope you’ll keep an eye out for me. And apologies, if you are really serious about this, for saying things I didn’t understand.
I’ve got men shouting over me and outside my door, banging and crashing and laughing. I’ve phoned reception twice and no one has answered, I got the fax machine.
Is there anything honest and truthful about this country?
I feel sick and my stomach hurts. I was beginning to fall asleep when they started. It’s always like that. Psychiatrists are not honest when they refuse to recognise it.
I can’t take much more.
I was thinking about it today, how I’ve said they are animals and everything. In order to do everything they did by way of murder under communism, they must be. They must be real savages without conscience, without morals, murderous pack instinct. I must face facts, and so must everyone else. Just because the political system has changed, it doesn’t mean the people have.
How do I always end up feeling that they are saying they love me and I just can’t see it? Is that right, am I just being stupid and stubborn and alienating people?
Why, when people know, is this being allowed to continue?
One of the searches that brought someone to my blog was ‘Monarch slave that’s been woken up’. I thought at first it was about the Queen, and today I decided to follow the search myself and see if it was real, because I doubted it.
I discovered it is about a mind control programme, Monarch Mind Control. I tried to watch one of the videos on YouTube that it returned, but my connection is bad and keeps cutting out. I got to the end of one interview between a woman called Brice Taylor and a man who is a former special agent and was in charge of the FBI in Los Angeles.
It also returned something about the Illuminati. I received what claimed to be Illuminati literature and invitations, which contained a statement that they have ways of dealing with people who oppose them. I intend to follow this search myself later and offer it now for your own information and research.
I find it hard looking at things like this, because I approach it with scepticism. If I myself am a victim, I am sceptical about myself, as well as angry with everyone else. That’s where my paralysis comes from and why my anger feels so toxic. I believe I never needed to be a victim. So it makes me sceptical about the claims of others who do not claim any responsibility in what happened to them or how they co-operated with it. I find myself doubting the veracity of the interviews and the level of credulity expressed and what looks to a well-taught Christian eye like an attempt to extricate yourself from blame and responsibility for your own actions. That is my Pentecostal upbringing that I believe and my former pastors continue to hold as paramount for understanding and action, unless I misinterpret them.
If I AM a victim, even if at the hands of agencies other than government agencies, there have been times when I really felt I had no choice but to do the things that were being suggested to me. The interviewee talks about drug programmes and psychiatric assessments for updating and reinforcement, and hypnotic techniques. It started with her father, she said, who ,when she was small , knelt in front of her and told her he had lost control of her because big things were happening and he was sorry, I think she said, because he couldn’t help her.
She was programmed to have a photographic memory. She talked about light and sound programming, food and sleep deprivation, I think electric shocks as well. She was used to have sex with people, including former presidents, sometimes if not always for purposes of blackmail. The link at the end of this post will take you to a lot of similar material.
Maybe I shouldn’t be sceptical. Maybe we didn’t have as much choice in it as I have been taught I always have, and therefore responsibility. Who can you go to if you don’t co-operate if you are under threat, constantly bombarded and can’t think, and everyone at least pretends they don’t believe you or that it is your own fault if it is true.? Jesus might be the answer. But he isn’t the answer on the terms of those who say he is and refuse to approach you to offer help if you don’t accept those terms. Even if you have offended them.
I need to do some more research. Even then I won’t know what to make of it wthout appropriate help. And some people, especially talk radio people (does anyone bother with them? I wish we wouldn’t) come down really heavily and scathingly on people who say things like this, dismissing it as conspiracy theories and making out it’s lunacy. I wonder about their honesty. It’s where the buzzwords come in. I’m never prepared for them and the blatancy of it is always shocking, it is all pervasive and dislocates your mind, it is that deliberate and violent. The buzzwords are deliberate. Even if that is the only thing I can say with certainty and accuracy. I don’t find them funny. There was something else in the search that says that Monarch Mind Control is used to programme people for social violence. I feel silly and that I should just lighten up and deal with situations as they arise and stop seeing connections where they don’t exist.
There is a passage in the Old Testament I have been worried about for some time now, and my unease with it and my gut rejection of it as basic, primitive and misogynistic has grown.
I can’t remember where it is, but I hope church leader readers will know the part I’m talking about. I think it might be Leviticus or one of the first 5 books.
It says if a woman is attacked or raped and she cries out for help it isn’t her fault, but if she doesn’t cry out for help it is. Something like that. I might be remembering it too black and white. I can’t find it quickly because I can’t remember the wording.
I don’t think there is any provision for if she is being threatened in any other way and is afraid to shout for help. If she is afraid to shout for help is it still her fault, and does the fact that she might also be afraid for her own life or someone else’s so doesn’t scream mean the man is not to blame for his actions? If she feels too threatened or confused to scream or register objection outside of the situation, does that mean the man has not committed an offence?
Also, it seems to be allowing a provision that the woman might have ‘brought it on herself’ or that she deserves it in some way. If there is that provision, people who think that of her or who want an excuse to not get involved would ignore her and judge her even if she did scream.
I might need to look it up to get a better understanding of the passage. However, when it comes to the way people act and react and judge and reason I’ve got it right.
Edit note: I just found it and read it. It’s Deuteronomy 22. If it’s in a field only the man dies because there was no one to hear her scream. If it’s in the city and she doesn’t scream, they both die because she should have screamed. That is if she is married or engaged. So according to the law the man should get it both ways.
Should I assume that rape and violent threat didn’t go together in those days as they do now? Should I assume that, because of the death penalty, if the woman had screamed the man would have tried to escape? Should I assume that these good, law-abiding people would always have obeyed the law to intervene and put a man like this to death? The prophets are always telling them that they tolerate things they shouldn’t. Would they have turned a blind eye like people do today? Yes, they would, at least sometimes. The existence of law has never been a guarantee that people are going to obey it and that wrongdoers will always be punished. And the Bible recognises that there is lawbreaking among leaders as well, and that they also act corruptly and irresponsibly.
Sometimes Bible teachers teach this kind of passage as if the existence of the laws meant they were always kept without question. That is bad teaching and poor understanding because it is just not true.
If she isn’t married or engaged, and a similar situation is discovered, the man has to pay the woman’s father for the offence and marry her. They say in rape a woman’s feelings are mixed. This might seem like a monstrous rationalisation, but I wonder if this is a provision to help her deal with these feelings? For the man it is a punishment for the offence and maybe an opportunity for expiation. Hmm. There is no mention of what should happen if the situation is not discovered. I suppose it assumes consent from the woman. At least if it isn’t discovered no one can do anything about it. So it’s probably just a practical observation.
Thoughts and Observations of a Certified Nut! 