Tag Archive: Psychology


A Drug No Longer Needed

I used to have to take a capsule called Lansoprazole every day for acid reflux, but I’ve realised over the last few weeks that I don’t have to now. I take one really occasionally now. I think it must have something to do with the fact that I have lost some weight, for me. I noticed this once before, a few years ago. Michael Mish had introduced me to prill beads, that you put in a gallon jar of water and just leave them there and keep topping the water up. They alkalinise the water. I think I might have lost some weight during that period as well, I can’t remember. But I went to Wales for a week and, even without that water, I had no problem with acid reflux, and I put it down to the water quality at the time. I didn’t need it or medication in Bulgaria, either. I also thought it might be something to do with my vegan diet, which lasted about 6 years, but I’m not vegan now. So I think it must be the weight loss, I can’t think of any other explanation. My idiot GP when I was in London, who once gave me reason to think he wasn’t just an idiot, he was dishonest, told me I would need the medication for the rest of my life. It seems to me that state sanctioned drug pushers like to tell people things like that.

Michael Mish is a New Age musician.  My Church background had made me hear him with a little bit of reserve.  Prill beads aren’t New Age, I think they were developed for a space program or something. But it has reminded me of something I’ve been thinking for a while.  ‘My kind of Church’ often calls Eastern medicine and therapy techniques occult.  Things like acupuncture, for instance, which works on meridian lines in the body.  But while being suspicious of Eastern approaches to health to the point of hatred, ‘my kind of Church’ has swallowed the Greek medicine model wholesale and apparently without question, these days, anyway.  It didn’t use to be like that, to my memory, in the 70s.  When I was in Church then at least one preacher said that psychology wasn’t compatible with Christianity and preached against reliance on psychiatric drugs.  When I first saw books about psychology and started reading them because I wanted to try and find out why I was so messed up I felt incredibly nervous about it, if not guilty.  It was a very lonely and dark activity for me.  It never occurred to me, because of the preaching, to try and discuss anything I was reading with the Church leadership.  There have been times in recent years that I have felt the roles have been reversed, that I have thought that they were right then and not now, that I have grown into their position (if I really ever didn’t accept it) and they have grown out of it, or abandoned it, and in so doing have abandoned me and people like me. But I really think that the deep suspicion of Eastern and New Age medicine is, more often than not, cultural bias and blindness, insensitive, ignorant and a form of racism.

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The Halo Effect

I heard this term today on The Chase and decided to look it up, and I found this article on Wikipedia.  It’s quite extensive and I find it interesting.  It also talks about the reverse halo effect.  It’s a psychological phenomenon, it is claimed, in which a favourable or unfavourable judgment of the whole is based on one trait or aspect alone.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Halo_effect

Coffee With My Nurse

Every Thursday one of my nurses and I go out for coffee, it’s part of the social inclusion programme.  He’s a nice man, his name is Pete.  He helped me out practically when I first moved in here.  We talk about a lot of things, including religion.  This week religion came up because I said I hadn’t heard anything about Raif Badawi this week.  Raif is the writer and activist in Saudi Arabia who has been sentenced to 10 years in prison and 1,000 lashes for his blog on free speech and liberalism in which he criticised some of the clerics, which was taken as an insult to Islam.  (For a petition by Amnesty International seeking to get this stopped please see here).

Pete said it was terrible what was being done in the name of religion, and said the Church used to do the same thing with its witch trials, for example.  The subject of demon possession came up, and I told him about my experiences of being told either that I was demon possessed or that I was ‘heavily demonised’.

The time I was told I was demon possessed was when I was a 12 year old girl in 1973.  I had lost my frightening father to suicide the year before.  Two of the elders of the church I was going to told me that I was demon possessed because I stared too much.  I suppose I did stare.  I stared particularly at one of them, because he was my father’s age and musical like my father, and I wanted to be a part of their family, informally.  He was a father figure.  The other elder – no, deacon – his wife told me that the man I saw as a father figure just saw me as a silly little girl.  They must have thought I fancied him or something (he was 38, I was 12, he was married with 3 children).  When they first tried to pray for me they decided I didn’t want help and told me I wasn’t to go back until I wanted help.  I think they also told me I couldn’t have communion.  The second time they prayed for me the deacon was bothered that I had practised a prayer instead of just praying on the spot, but the man I saw as a father figure said he felt good about it.  Apparently they saw a mouse which I didn’t see, and they told me the demons had gone into the mouse.  All I knew was that I wasn’t allowed to get close to the people I wanted, and I was hurt and upset, and frightened.  That fear left me briefly about 20 years ago, but it quickly came back when I was disrespected at the church I was going to in London.

At the church I went to in London, St Barnabas, Woodside Park in North Finchley, soon after my first experience in a mental hospital, I was so traumatised I was shouting when I was afraid.  I asked the vicar, who at that time was John Coles, what he would tell God when He asked him why he called the police on me, and John said he would say that he was dealing with someone who was ‘heavily demonised’.

I told Pete about both of these experiences and he said about the first one that I was obviously traumatised and they should have been dealing with trauma, not performing an exorcism.  He said it was child abuse, which I agree with.  David Shearman once told me he had been angry when he found out about it.  Unfortunately his anger did not relieve my pain and fear.  I lived for years worrying about demons, and looking into the mirror and seeing something evil in my eyes.  I can’t remember what Pete said about the second time, in London, that I had this forced on me.  But he said it all sounded medieval.  He also said that he thought people were like a piano, with all the notes available, and you just decide what you are going to play.

My worry is, have I misrepresented the Church?  They meant well, didn’t they?  Although I find that hard to believe, given how much anger was expressed.

I looked up the two people involved when I was 12.  One of them died in 2012 (the man whose family I wanted to be part of), and the other is an elder in a Christian Fellowship somewhere.  I didn’t recognise him but I recognised his wife, easily.

Bad Experiences

I was 11 when my father died at his own hands.  I don’t really know if it was suicide, it might have been a call for help and attention that backfired.  I know it left me without a strong hand at home.  The family fell to pieces.  I stopped going to school because I thought, ‘I don’t want to go so I’m not going’, and no one challenged that strongly enough.  My mother didn’t have enough authority to get me to go, and I was being bullied at school, so I lay in bed reading mainly Christian paperbacks.

My first experience of a Pentecostal church came when I was about 12 or 13.  A van with a megaphone came round my street advertising a crusade, and I decided to go.  It was an odd experience, with people saying loud ‘hallelujahs’ and ‘praise the Lords’ while a person on the platform was speaking.  I thought it was rude.

Eventually a man came to my attention who was the same age as my father and was also musical, as my father had been, and I used to watch him as he played a Hawaiian guitar.  I used to want to be a part of his family.  I let it be known that I liked him, and eventually one of the leaders or the leader’s wife told me that he thought I was just a silly little girl, as if I was sexually motivated (bearing in mind he was 38 and I was 12 or 13).

Very soon after this they decided I was demon possessed because I stared too much.  One week they told me I wasn’t welcome unless I wanted help, and that I was to go away and only come back when I wanted help.  I went back the next week, and they prayed for me to cast demons out,  It wasn’t pleasant, they found fault with me for praying a prayer that I had practised.  The man I liked was one of the people praying for me, another male leader was another,  They told me the demons had gone into a mouse they had seen but I hadn’t.  They left me afraid and traumatised.  I used to look into my own eyes in the mirror and think that I could see something evil in them.  I kept praying that God wouldn’t let me become demon possessed again, because I believed the things they had said to me.  I just needed a father figure, and I was completely misunderstood.

I’ve never really recovered from that time, the pain has never really gone away.  There was a woman at Talbot Street, where I ended up going shortly after David Shearman came to the church I’ve been talking about, who said I had caused problems in Andrew and David Shearman’s marriages.  When I told David that he said she wasn’t doing God’s work.  I don’t remember that he denied what she had said though.

In London the teaching I received about demons was that they attach when people are vulnerable, as in infancy or at a time of trauma, and that a simple prayer of deliverance was what was needed to remedy the situation, and also prayer for healing and filling with the Holy Spirit in place of the demons.  I believed this teaching.  Some people would say that what some people call demons is actually psychological or psychiatric.  People talk about coming to terms with their demons, not recognising a need or possibility of deliverance, and not talking about real demons in the first place.  The Pentecostal and Charismatic traditions believe and recognise that demonisation and deliverance are real, and these have been my background since I was 12 years old, the background I am now estranged from.  Over the last 20 years I have been accused of witchcraft by other Christians on many occasions.  That’s where I will leave this entry.  It’s all very painful and sore.

Knots by R D Laing

I bought this book recently from the internet, I think Amazon.  It was delivered this morning.  I was first introduced to it by one of my English teachers at 6th form.  She read something that went:

I know
He knows I know
I know he knows I know

and it is full of things of the same ilk that I just get lost in.  I tried to be with it and stay with it but in the end I just ended up believing he wanted us to laugh at the convolution of it all.  People say that laughter is the best therapy, and if he just wanted to wear us out with all the permutations to make us laugh at ourselves and with each other – I thought it was a bit like reading Zen koans.  One of the poems says that what they want from each other is generosity, not one thinking the other is greedy while the other in turn thinks the first is mean.  I think laughter opens the door to generosity, especially the laughter that can arise when you realise you are beaten by the representation of what is going on in the relationship.  That is, unless he is much more intelligent than I am and there are others who manage to keep up where I can’t.  Sometimes I experience a little breakthrough in understanding what he is portraying, and there are places of identification, especially identification from the past of how I used to think and feel in relationships.  I was surprised to see something I went through a few years ago represented, where I thought, basically, that I wasn’t entitled to anything so I was stealing everything I had, or getting it by trickery.  Part of that was the belief that all money is dirty by association somewhere along the line.  Another was being afraid that if someone loved and respected me they were wrong, because I was awful, and the only people I could respect or trust were those who didn’t seem to respect me.

Anyway, I haven’t finished it.  I’ve got about half way through.  There was one poem in particular which really made me throw my hands up in despair of being able to understand it.  It was written in about 6 parts.  Maybe it was meant for performance.  It seems it might be the only way to keep up with it.  I have no idea how much was him having a romping good laugh and how much was a serious unfolding.  I feel sure its main purpose must be to make us loosen up.

Am I Just Gullible?

What I don’t like about Szasz is his position that we are all entitled to take drugs.  It seems to me that this is a position that people would have good reasons for opposing, and I myself feel that his argument against institutional psychiatry, which I agree with, is undermined by his position on so-called recreational drug use.  We all know about ‘bad trips’ and I don’t know if bad trips would be eradicated if the supply were officially controlled and therefore ‘pure’.  I suppose no one else knows either, and that because of the effects of ‘bad trips’ it isn’t something that could be tested out on scientific research volunteers or paid people, the risks might be too great.  I do not feel as supported by his argument against institutional psychiatry as I would like to feel because of this.  I myself do not have a history of drug use, and cannot say that I know that people with such a history are not helped by psychiatric drugs.  I wish he did not take this position on recreational drugs.

I’ve also never really read or understood any Foucault, I just know he is a big name in French literature, philosophy and politics, and I’m only using those three classifications to make sure all my bases are covered, because to me he is just a name.  I have got a book of Essential Foucault from the library, though, which I intend to read soon, with my other reading.

Also I get confused at the moment because I am feeling more or less OK and that the only thing which is negative about my present existence is that I am having an injection every two weeks.  I do realise that people could say that I am feeling OK because of the injection and not in spite of it, but my feeling of OK is very limited, because I am a lot more inhibited than I was off medication, and hopeful that people in the hospital will see that I am really OK and don’t need to be on drugs.  I can more or less cope socially and feel that I could before as well, even if things could have been interpreted as being more painful.  There is an argument for saying that other things that break down are sent for repair and things added to them to make them work right, so why not me as a person?  But inwardly I am constantly so much hoping that I will be taken off medication, and I resent the abuses I experienced on other wards that led to the decision to restart medication.  Abuses like being told my problem with door slamming was all because of my mental illness, for instance.

I phoned Richard at Macmillan Close yesterday because I was sad it hadn’t worked out and wanted to tell him so and that I thought he had been really kind to me.  I’m sure it was an easier conversation by phone than it might have been face to face.

There are so many things that confuse me in the Bible.  I was just thinking that Paul says to submit to authority and to obey every law instituted among men for the Lord’s sake.  But Peter and the apostles were told not to preach anymore in the Name of Jesus and Peter told them they should obey the Lord and not men, and preached anyway and got flogged, and imprisoned, and an angel let him out in the dead of night.  I suppose again it is just a matter of confidence or of no confidence whichever of these church leaders give to any one of their people at any time, or opinion as to which they preach to a congregation.  Yet they say obey your leaders as if they really have a divine right.  You can only go so far in obeying your leaders.  Surely honesty recognises that their own denomination probably exists because they or someone before them did not obey a leader?

Mish-Mash Musings 2

In my last post I wrote about how the Church, during the Inquisition, used to ‘relax’ people into the hands of the state so they could be burnt, and wrote about the parallel drawn by Thomas Szasz between this and the mental health movement.  He said that in a religious age ‘heretics’ were ‘relaxed’ into the hands of the state, but in the so-called enlightened age the parallel is that society turns to the mental health movement for the upholding of the dominant culture.  However, the Church is part of the society which does this, and does it itself.  So for the mental patient who is also a Christian, there is no ‘comfort’ for them in religion.  The mental health system is part of the new way of dealing with ‘heretics’ for the church.  The church believes in this, or says it does, and largely it accords the mental health system the same authority as the rest of society does, except for some people.  It might decide that some people are really not mentally ill and try to help them, but on the whole it validates the mental health system and its ideas.  So someone like me can become very isolated since the Church refers me back to the mental health services.  Admittedly I have not been to every existing church, but the ones that have been part of my life to date have all said the same thing, that they believe I am mentally ill, so accepting the categorisation in the first place.  Many other religious bodies do the same thing.  Scientology does not.  I have only recently discovered that Thomas Szasz had links with Scientology.  For some people this will put them off him, but there are others who hold the some of same views who do not have those links, the writers and editors of This Is Madness, for instance, and Foucault, and R D Laing.  R D Laing was ridiculed for turning to Buddhism, apparently.  I was told this by one of the nurses on Rowan 2, I think, and they said how ironic it was that the psychiatric system is itself now looking towards things like mindfulness as a way of raising people’s consciousness.  They wouldn’t call it raising people’s consciousness, but essentially that is what it is.

I’m not on Rowan 2 at the moment, I was transferred to Newark on Friday night. It is a place like Macmillan Close, complete with door slamming!  I’m not sure how I feel and I hope it is not a matter of my choice, because there are pros and cons with both.  I was told at 6.30 pm on Friday evening that the transfer was going to be made and that I had no right to refuse.  Steve, who was on duty, told me it was only temporary and that I am expected to go back some time this week, citing my housing situation and residence in Nottingham a a reason for me going back.  However, the staff in Newark are under the impression that I am here long term and that housing can be dealt with from here.  I’m confused and feel very disorientated.  I said I didn’t want to come because I don’t know Newark, and that seems to me a good reason at the moment.  I have been homeless 2 years now, Friday was the anniversary, and it can’t be good for me to keep being so uprooted.

Mish-Mash Musings

I’m not sure why I have called this Mish-Mash Musings except that I know where I am going to start but not where I am going to finish, which I suppose is OK if I’m not writing an essay but a blog entry, and not hoping to make Freshly Pressed (though I would love to).  I feel like trashing this already and starting again, but I never trash anything I write, so I’m afraid it rests.

The place I am going to start is with an incident I read about in a book called ‘The Manufacture of Madness’ By Thomas Szasz.  The book compares the mental health movement (his term, not mine) with the Inquisition.  It says that the two things are the same, in that first they decided what one was (heretic, witch, mentally ill person) then they went looking for them and treating them as their law allows/requires/demands.  With heretics and witches under the Inquisition he talks about the church ‘relaxing’ heretics out of its own hands into the hands of the law and legal process – a bit like the Jews did with Jesus, because they had no law to put a man to death (see also John 16:2, “Anyone who kills you will think he is offering a service to God”).

In psychiatry, if the psychiatrist says you are mentally ill and you say otherwise, it is said that you lack insight.  I know this and Thomas Szasz also says so.  He has us down as the people that are called paranoid schizophrenics.  This has definitely been my experience.  Under the Inquisition unrepentant heretics were burned alive, while those who changed their minds were strangled and then burned.  The incident a read about the other day talked about a man who, faced with the fire, said that he would convert himself to the faith of Jesus Christ, and that this was apparently a time of great rejoicing for the inquisitors, where the hugged him and welcomed him back into the arms of the church, then immediately afterwards they had him strangled and burnt.  Thomas Szasz draws the same parallel with psychiatry.  I’m not sure if Thomas Szasz wanted to see an end to all psychiatry or only the enforced kind, but he did say in this book that the inquisitors didn’t want too many heretics to be burnt whereas they shouldn’t have been burning any at all.  The Inquisition was torture, and Thomas Szasz says that so is psychiatry.  That has certainly been my experience.  He talks about having the idea of mental illness accepted by the popular mind, just as heresy used to be so feared and so treated/punished.  Both the Inquisition and psychiatry had two purposes, one for the protection of society and the other for the ‘good’ of the accused/patient.  By putting the word ‘good’ in inverted commas I am staying true to the message and spirit of the book, as well as owing the inverted commas as my own.

I have been reading quite a bit about Transactional Analysis as well.  I’ve read (again) Games People Play by Eric Berne MD, the founder of TA, and I’ve Just started reading I’m OK, You’re OK by Thomas A Harris MD.  Dr Harris points out in the opening pages of his book that not only do the words Parent, Adult, Child have different meanings from usual in this context, but so does the word OK, so I’m looking forward to reading this book to the end.  I didn’t read it when it first became popular because a Church I was in said the message was untrue to Christianity which says we all need redemption because we are not OK.  There is also a chapter in the book about this approach to human relationships in the context of morality, which is a chapter I am looking forward to reading.  Dr Harris advises against just dipping in or reading the end first as understanding is established and built on from beginning to end.

Another Shouting Match

Tonight, for as I write it was tonight, just 1/2 an hour ago since it started, thought by the time I finish writing it will be last night, I’ve just been involved in a confrontation with staff and a patient.  This is what happened.

It is now a minute past midnight, so it happened last night now.  One of the rowdiest people on the ward has just started singing.  I don’t appreciate it.  It is Kerry.  I feel weak and undermined for not daring to tell her to stop, and no one else will.

I tried to have an early night, and for ages I wasn’t able to sleep.  Too hot and restless.  Eventually, around 10pm, I put some meditation music on, and I fell asleep to that.  Soon after it finished People started shouting in their rooms, to themselves, but loudly and angrily.  I don’t think it was anything to do with my music.  There were two of them.  I don’t think this time Kerry was one of them.  I was annoyed because I had been woken up, and I have been absorbing this most of the time for about a week.  Absorbing it has affected me and my level of well-being.  I have felt tired and very upset and lifeless.  The shouting, and the door-slamming, have been horrific.

I shouted back, told them to stop, I was trying to sleep.  I said they were making everyone feel so good, and finally I said one of them was mad.  That is the kind of thing I have had from the staff.  I am vulnerable and impressionable and exhausted.

Some of the staff came round and started having a go at me, saying I should have compassion, people were ill, and people were trying to sleep.  I said I was trying to sleep but I got woken up.  When they adopt a tone and attitude to me the best I can do for myself is shout back, and I found myself out of control in the same way the other women were, but from me it was not tolerated.  Alex said I was unbelievable and it wasn’t worth talking to me.  That’s when I lost control.  I said they were unbelievable, that if this could happen in here it can also happen in the community, but because I have said it is happening in the community I’ve been told it is all in my head and I have had what was my home taken from me because I am in hospital.  They kept telling me I was shouting, but they were confrontational or dismissive and not letting me finish sentences and walking away in contempt.  M involved herself again, saying she was going to call the police and I was waking everyone up and I should be in prison, and she got the ‘darling’ treatment, whereas I was vilified.  I had Alex saying I had a high level of understanding.  She had been telling me there are some ill people on the ward, and I had asked her why she was telling me that as if I was not a psychiatric patient.  She said it was because I had a high level of understanding.  I said just because I have a high level of understanding doesn’t mean I can go on absorbing the rubbish while they normally sit in their office and do nothing about it, other people shouting and screaming and slamming doors.  I’ve started yelling at people to stop because the nurses don’t normally do anything about them, the same as they have left me to shout myself hoarse and upset.  She kept going on about finding it almost impossible to work with me, but there are things she doesn’t want to hear, because I start talking and she talks over me.  Kevin did it as well.  One of them said they were warning me.  How come even when I am upset at being woken up and trying to deal with it in the only way I felt I could, rightly or wrongly, wrongly obviously, I’ve got it from the way I have been dealt with, I am the only one of all the people who are upset who gets short shrift?  Keven said he couldn’t tell what I was saying because I was shouting,but I can tell what people are saying when they shout, and when I lowered my voice he started talking over me, so I raised it again to be heard, then he told me I was shouting.  When I said about doors being slammed hard Alex said the doors don’t shut quietly, as if we hadn’t already had a conversation where I had complained about Kerry and Alex had acknowledged that a lot of other people had complained.  My door closes quietly.  Here on Rowan 2, Highbury Hospital, Nottingham, I am being victimised and am on the wrong side of favouritism.  It doesn’t work for me.

I’m not going to commit suicide.  But some people would.  I don’t want to be driven like this just because people judge (perhaps) that there is no risk of suicide.  If I get distressed to the point of being beside myself and enraged I don’t want these confrontations from the people who have been responsible for it, trying to make out I am a special case and have more understanding than the average psychiatric patient.  Alex says she has often said she doesn’t think I should be here.

Who Do You Think YOU Are?

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 . . . .

Pastiche

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.

Kicked in the stomach

Today has been a day from hell.  Kerry had a go at me again, staff didn’t help, it escalated, they wanted ME to go to my room, at lunchtime, 30 minutes before I was due to see my psychologist, they brought medication, after 6 women, at least one of which had been nagging me in the dining room to calm down, had been standing around in the corridor near my room.  I said I didn’t want medication, that I wanted to speak to my psychologist with a clear head, and they said if I was shouting I wasn’t going to see him, so I accepted oral medication so that, if unchallenged, I could pretend to swallow it then spit it out.  I decided to hang around the communal area so that he couldn’t be sent away in my absence.

Kerry kicked me in the stomach this afternoon.  I have been told by one of the young students that even if I report it, because it is an acute psychiatric ward, I might not be separated from the threat.  I hope she is wrong.  The staff mismanagement of this has caused this situation.  Yet I feel it is my fault.  I had my door locked on Saturday, for the first time since being there, then told myself my suspicions were racism and my objection to her trolling outside my window was the same.  I told myself she had been risk-assessed and that she would not be on the ward if she was a threat to other patients.  I am tired this evening and have kept bursting into tears.  I feel even if I were to press charges successfully it would be a sign of failure on my part.  As a Christian.  There are no adequate words for my distress and desolation and fear at the moment.

Update 28.07 2013

Last night I didn’t sleep much, I was too hot.  Then this morning the team on night duty (Mandy, Sylvia, Reward and Aka) started bashing and banging at about 5.30 am – Sunday morning and all.  Out in the real world they might have been reported for disturbing the peace before 7 am.  And they shout down corridors all day, they don’t go up to people and speak to them.  Everything sounds loud and singsongy.  I was in the shower this morning and when it came to washing my hair I felt sick and giddy.  This is common for me here.  Apart from anything else I am having to judge how much water I can use if I want to do the job properly.  I went out this morning and felt ill, too ill to walk.  I had been heading for church, but I could hardly keep my eyes open.  I thought in terms of I might not be ill, it might be the Holy Spirit making me feel that way.  I wanted to get to church and collapse.  I was convinced in the end that it was God but decided to go back to the hospital anyway and try to sleep.  I was afraid in case I tried to get help at church but they were unable or unwilling to accommodate what was happening to me.  I thought they might call an ambulance or something.  I came out again this evening heading for church, but I’ve stopped off at a hotel for a drink and to use the internet and write my blog.  I feel really bad about that, unforgivably so.  It’s lack of faith and trust  I’ve put writing my blog before going to church.  Going to church feels like the right thing to do, but in spite of what I want to happen and what I want to be communicated by me going there, I have little confidence that it is going to help and I was afraid, earlier, that keeping on going and not responding to appeals might cause tensions that might explode on me.  John Pettifor was speaking this morning, and something is happening with the interns tonight.  People talk about an open heaven.  If feeling positive about how it would be if I went and bad about not going is an open heaven, I suppose that might be what I’ve had today, and I’ve gone against it.

I just had ‘tea’ at the hospital.  Kiran was serving.  As soon as I sat down and started talking to someone else she adjusted her voice upwards in relation to mine, then she started talking to people like children and babies.  It always upsets me when she or anyone else does that, because to me they are not part of the equation in a conversation with someone else sitting at the table with me once they have served the meal.  I explained to the person I was talking to how it made me feel angry and hysterical when Kiran does that, and how it was made even worse because if I confronted her with it she would deny she was doing it, even though it seems obvious to me that she must know.  I asked another patient how she found her and she said OK, but when I told her what she does with me she said she does it with her as well.  If it is deliberate and she knows I don’t like it why doesn’t she stop?  If it is a problem she has and she can’t help herself, apparently, why can’t she get it sorted out when she knows it upsets me, at least?  I came out feeling as if my head had been kicked in.  I sneezed in my room and someone copied me.  I sneezed twice, they followed up with exactly the same thing.  This place is making me desperate.  Then I blame myself for being unkind in my reactions, or failing to have a sense of humour.  I tell myself it proves I am really selfish for it to bother me so much, and that I see myself as superior to other patients.

I’ve noticed that staff sometimes touch their ears, as if adjusting their hearing or something.  Chantelle used to do that a lot, she would do it at a distance, and she would stare into my face every time something strong and confident came out of my mouth.  If she was behind me a little way off she would put herself in my face to do it.  I find this outrageous and am afraid of people who don’t seem to think it isn’t and do it, who are also calling me mentally ill.  I can’t cope here anymore, I am desperate.  I really can’t cope.

A Slightly Different Update 27.07.2013

I thought, about an hour ago, that my biggest anxiety is not having a home, not knowing where it is going to be, and not knowing how it is going to work.  I thought that, whether it is accurate or not.  I’m 22 months homeless now, and maybe immediate things should be more a cause of concern.  But no one is officially acknowledging any of the things I have said about previous experiences.  I just felt like jumping up and running to Tommy Boyd, but I don’t have enough money to pay the fare.  I wouldn’t have anyway, today.

Relationships and comfort zones with other patients are cooling, and at the same time I’m becoming a lot more fudged in my relationships with staff.  I have made some of them special to me, more honestly, some of them have made themselves special to me by their kindness.  All this stuff about boundaries I was asked to learn by the church, to be used against me, so it seems, seems to be going by the board at the moment.  But that may be only because I feel inhibited about being angry, most of the time, unless I flip and start shouting in my room.  If I say I am having a problem with anyone on the ward the official position and statement seems to be ‘I don’t think so’, or ‘I don’t think s/he is’.  It is never opened up or examined.  So it continues and I can’t talk about it.  I’m still being voice and expression-matched, and I find that so upsetting.  How can doing me back at me be good communication?  I thought that communication was about two or more different and distinct individuals interacting and revealing themselves, being themselves.  Have I lost the plot somewhere?  Have I missed something, a shift in what communication is?  I think copying is about power.

I started out saying that these people, the staff, knew what was happening as well as I did and that it was up to them to say so/stop it, with open commitment, whatever they got from me by way of anger and hysteria.  Now I feel I am softening and thinking maybe now we can talk about it.  But the fact is that in the meantime they have bullied me with mimicry and interventions and put me on medication, all the time knowing that what I have said is true.  It doesn’t augur well for anyone else, does it, if one person has to become reasonable to stop the assault and get the help they need.

I keep approaching this in a general way and not posting a lot of stuff i would like to have posted.  I have thought I should list people by name and their offenses, as I see them.  But I have also thought in the last 24 hours as I have before, that the best way not to be like someone is not to be like them.  But that is just in personal terms.  The relationship I have with the staff is not a cosy, life-affirming personal relationship and never will be.  I don’t think I know the best thing to be or do in this situation anymore, and its effect seems to be that I am developing a distaste for and aversion towards my blog, and an aversion to naming and shaming.  But what is the alternative?  For me personally, it doesn’t make things comfortable by any means, some people are reacting quite badly, but at least I won’t be having painful conversations with people who use their positions to abuse or disengage, from whom I later have to get food and medication and be let off the ward.

I overheard Alex say last night ‘he won’t get anything out of me’.  No idea what it was about.

I’m beginning to think of the hospital as a community run by the nurses, and interactions in public as group therapy.  It’s wild, it’s weird, it’s making my ears ring thinking about it.

Update 22.07.2013

Last night nurses were up and down the corridor all night switching lights on and off.  I heard them with other people but not me.  They didn’t turn mine on.  This morning shortly before 7 Sharon positioned herself outside my door and spoke in a jeering voice.  Last night Sandra, a nurse I haven’t mentioned yet, kept starting her speech on a note I had used just before finishing mine.  She often starts on the last note and last week one day she kept using the last words of my utterances.  I have thought of this in terms of NLP, neuro-linguistic programming.  As I came out this evening and asked Terry to open the door for me I am sure that Alex, a female nurse, spoke straight after me in my rhythm deliberately.  Just before I was restarted on medication she was mimicking me at least one night but denied it when confronted with it.  She was present when I was told I was going to be restarted and I talked about risk and she said the risks I was afraid of were unlikely.  I said that didn’t mean anything and that they were possible and that she should stop hiding from it by using those terms and say every time she told someone they were going to be forced to take medication that serious side effects are a possibility.  Does that make me a bully?  I fear it might.  Am I a bully writing like this on my blog?  A few weeks ago the ward manager told me that if I didn’t remove names from my blog then they had been advised by their legal time that they could do it themselves.  I heard something on the radio yesterday about a right to confront service and trades people who deal badly with you.  I think it was set in 2025 though and am not sure if that law exists at the moment.  I’m sure it must.  This is a safe way to do it without involving verbal and physical confrontation.

All I want to do at the moment is cry.  My eyes are black with held back emotion and the repeated shock of being vocally tagged and mimicked and having no way to deal with it.  I have begun to think my problem with it is my fault because I should know better how to deal with it without getting precious about it, but it isn’t something i should have to deal with anyway.  The people I am happy to trust are the people who have not done this to me, or who used to and have stopped.  That makes about 4 people, off the top of my head.  It is something I experience as so aggressive and violent that my facial muscles feel as if they are spastic as this is imprinted on my fragile psyche.

Last week I said to someone that it is inhuman to keep me in hospital as long as I have been kept in knowing I have no home and no visitors, and that I have felt they have taken advantage of my situation.  There is at least one other person that I know feels as emotionally wretched as I do.  I asked my psychologist if we were allowed to touch each other today, if I could be hugged if I felt I needed it and he said no, it might be OK with a woman.  I asked what if i were lesbian, or just didn’t care?  I then pointed out that I have no relationships that are supportive in this way, that the only really contact I have is hospital care.  We talked about something quite difficult today.  I didn’t go out this morning.  The hospital is my home, and home is a place I want to spend time.  I didn’t know how to approach today at all, whether to go out or stay in.  It was like wading through mud.  I got fed up with myself because I felt it was me that was making it that way, that I was making it heavy weather, but what else could I have made it?

We had no water in our basins from Friday afternoon to this afternoon.  Someone said something about E-Coli.  It’s been a difficult weekend in that respect.  We had showers, but the hassle involved in trying to wash my hair would have been too great.  When I told Gareth, my psychologist, about the shower and what I have to do to wash my hair he seemed appalled.  He said that a bath or a shower is a soothing thing and that that was what we needed, and that I shouldn’t trivialise my dissatisfaction about it.

I find the mimicry and the intimidation/invalidation that goes with it should i try to say anything about it drives every thought and ability to communicate out of my head.  I had things I wanted to say but I have forgotten so many of them.  And when I write like this, as I am in this paragraph, I feel as if I am just being moany and pathetic.

I had a review with Dr Bradshaw, my psychiatrist, last week.  She is talking about trying to find me accommodation and starting me on a community treatment order.  The psychiatrist in the community is a Dr Cheetham.  She is on maternity leave at the moment.  I understand that when she spoke to me last year she recommended that I not be treated against my wishes.

It has been so hot here, as across the country.  I feel so miserable.  I don’t know how much of my tiredness is down to medication.  I have slept almost all the way through dinner time two days running.  Last night I didn’t sleep well.  Last night one of the patients had their name called as if it were a dog’s name, and she immediately got up and responded.  I believe I know that feeling, it is so visceral the safest thing you can do with it is stuff it down.  It was literally like hearing a dog being called.  She hadn’t come the first time.

Update 15.07.2013

Last Friday the decision to restart medication was communicated to me, almost 3 weeks after the SOAD interview.  Myself I think this is appalling and I have never experienced it before, and when I have mentioned it to staff in other areas they have said they found the delay a bit strange.

I am still quite disorientated, attaching too much emotional importance to some relationships, strictly speaking and according to current official guidelines on boundaries.  Now I’ve said that I am questioning it, but certainly I don’t think much about the future, occasionally my anger erupts, a lot of the time a lot is being fudged for me.  I feel as if I am being tamed the same way as an animal might be tamed, with punishments and rewards.  Not having much privacy, if any, for writing my blog I’m not doing a very adequate job.  I’m sitting in a Wetherspoons pub at the moment.  Not many people in this section.  I came to download something from the internet.  I’ve just remembered I did make quite a few notes last week which I intended to be for a blog entry.  I haven’t got round to using them yet and I don’t want to use them at the moment.

I spoke to my psychologist this morning.  He was talking about boundaries to protect vulnerable patients.  I know technically he is right.  I just saw something else on WordPress about game approaches to mental health.  I’m not sure if this fits here.  I feel upset and disorientated in this pub.  Jim, my key nurse, is on night shift tonight.

I have been trying to deal with a personal offense between myself and a member of staff.  I have been trying to approach it as a personal thing, not a professional thing,, but so many other people are somehow involved without me having given it to them I feel disorientated and confused.  I am desperate, I want to scream, and I feel as if it is my fault, that I am failing.  And the truth is I am, but also i am getting confused with all the people either inputting or piggybacking or sometimes, I feel, blocking, and I keep finding fault with myself and knowing, when I am alone, that I’m not handling it right.  I’m not feeling great in here, I’m not seeing things straight.  It matters to me, but I feel as if I am trying too hard to do something and that can’t be right or good.  Underneath I am raging because I feel as if I have been manipulated and bullied into this position.  I’m really upset, really tired, quite afraid, and I’m not sure what is happening.  I’ve been suppressing laughter for quite a while out of respect and sensitivity to this situation.  What I am afraid of in this instance is that we are not going to get satisfactory closure.   I’ve seen this person cry.  I’ve seen a few people cry.  Staff.  It seems to matter to me so much I am worried about why.  But in my mind I am contradicting myself even as I am typing.  There is a lot of psychological violence I am experiencing from some staff.  This is not a personal relationship, so how can I handle this powder keg?  We both seem to be trying.  I have thought this person’s tears were about this issue between us but I have realised I might be wrong, and my greatest fear is that if I raise this I might not get any answers.  That matters to me.

I have been trying, sometimes, to respect the office, in general, if I can cope with the person filling it.  But I have realised that, a lot of the time if not all the time, I believe it is the office itself which is evil.  I have been taught to respect the office when dealing with authority and officials.  I have had disturbed sleep for the past three nights.  I am much more distraught than I am showing.  I feel as if I am at home or in church, not a place I hate and despise.  There is so much laughter underneath, and tears.  My sense of humour keeps having a go at me, but often I am afraid to show it, or ashamed.  That will do for now.

PS on the practical side, as well as the delayed SOAD decision and broken sleep caused by noise on the ward, mainly, I think, staff talking and even shouting last night, and slamming doors, on Friday and Saturday morning we had no water on the ward.  I managed to brush my teeth Friday morning but there wasn’t even enough for that on Saturday.  I mentioned it when my psychologist asked me what I do for self-care and he asked if we had been given any warning and i said not that I had been aware.  Also in the shower we get four one minute jets of water for everything we want to do, and they are not awfully powerful.  If I want to wash my hair I have to load my sponge up from the basin and basically give myself a wash down and use the shower for my hair.  Even then I still find I need to put my head under the basin tap two or three times even if I use the shower only to wash my hair.  I think this is a contributory factor to my low mood.  I think a shower should be a pleasurable experience, but at the very least it should be sufficient for everything you need to do in it.  It feels like very basic survival.  I’m in a hotel restaurant now, just had a coke.  I feel like a very miserable and repressed wet blanket.  My mood here has been better in the past.  My psychologist said I seemed vulnerable this morning.  I can’t remember if he said emotionally vulnerable or what.  This morning I was not totally unhappy to be feeling vulnerable.

Going back to the relationships issue, I am getting very confused.  I have started thinking about the role of community in handling what I had wanted to deal with myself.  I’m getting confused because I feel as if the level of expectation of me from myself and others is inconsistent with the fact that I have a diagnosis of schizophrenia and am not expected to be fully functioning anyway.  Something happened last night – I said something, i can’t remember what or who to, then I made a joke of it saying I was speaking to an hallucination, and didn’t the person know I had hallucinations.  I don’t, it was a joke of sorts, but I became afraid it might be taken seriously as consistent with my diagnosis and documented.  What seems strange though was that the shift manager laughed when I said it (oh yes he did).  That seems to me to have been inappropriate.

I feel I have done violence to myself this week by requiring of myself, maybe feeling it was required of me as well, that I stay quite serious.  On Friday I became very upset after an encounter straight after I had been injected with a test dose of the drug they want to use (I have been given no information about it).  I remained upset for hours and no one came to help me until the end of that time, and I found her approach intimidating.  I thought that to leave me in that state, especially at that time, was mental cruelty.  They always have left me.

In Brief

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Today at Macmillan Close

We just moved back (three of us) to our own house on the close after we had to move out two weeks ago for decorators.  Can’t see much difference myself.  It smells of paint and one of my windows has been repaired.

Last week I wrote Dr Leaske, my psychiatrist, a long letter explaining that I thought my diagnosis should be more around trauma and grief and menopause.  I was hoping he wouldn’t renew the section 3 (I thought he wouldn’t anyway) but he did, and he wasn’t at all impressed when I said that I wasn’t violent and that the things from the community were just malicious slander.  He said he had to take them into account.  So white van man with a nasty streak is allowed to dictate the decisions made about my life.  Dr Leaske talked about building up trust, but really it all seems to be required one way.  Even when I gave my word that I would continue to take the poison if he didn’t put me on another section he wouldn’t accept it.

After we moved this morning I had an appointment with my key nurse.  All the time she was talking and reading me my rights, all I wanted to do was cry.  I believe that would be more healing than any drugs they gave me. She didn’t seem to pick up on that though.  Some nurses vent around me, reacting in not their normal voices when I open my mouth and sound relaxed.  One man actually shouts out, like ‘oh’, effectively.  I find that shocking and frightening.  Also abusive.  It is like psychological rape.  I know I’ve said all this before but this saga continues and elicits the same feelings.  It’s control and domination, and its unprofessional, I think.

I feel what they are doing to me despises me as a human and a woman in grief and menopause.  In spite of the fact that he (my psychiatrist) reduced my medication and agreed to let me come off it and see how I got on, they are still defining me and controlling me as before.  I feel normal and happy and positive, under the grief, if they would just leave me alone.  He wants me to see a psychologist/psychotherapist.  We are at loggerheads but I feel as if I am having to come round to seeing some things his way in spite of that.  I don’t want to deal with my situation under the auspices of the mental health system.

Symptoms of Schizophrenia

Someone on Facebook gave me the link to this useful list.  I decided to tack on the end that PTSD is said to “mimic” schizophrenia.  I would say all of these ‘early warning signs’ could equally be a part of post traumatic experience.

“Schizophrenia is a challenging disorder that makes it difficult to distinguish between what is real and unreal, think clearly, manage emotions, relate to others, and function normally.” “The most common early warning signs of schizophrenia include:
Social withdrawal
Hostility or suspiciousness
Deterioration of personal hygiene
Flat, expressionless gaze
Inability to cry or express joy
Inappropriate laughter or crying
Depression
Oversleeping or insomnia
Odd or irrational statements
Forgetful; unable to concentrate
Extreme reaction to criticism
Strange use of words or way of speaking

http://www.helpguide.org/mental/schizophrenia_symptom.htm#conditions

Conditions that can look like schizophrenia

  • Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) — PTSD is an anxiety disorder that can develop after exposure to a traumatic event, such as military combat, an accident, or a violent assault. People with PTSD experience symptoms that are similar to schizophrenia. The images, sounds, and smells of PTSD flashbacks can look like psychotic hallucinations. The PTSD symptoms of emotional numbness and avoidance can look like the negative symptoms of schizophrenia.

Sketches From the Bus

This man sat next to me on the bus the other day and I felt him breathing and it calmed me down. It was a good feeling,  I just remembered it because I am playing Neil Diamond on Napster, Sweet Caroline, where he says how can I hurt when I’m holding you.  Warm, touching warm.  My breathing came into time with his and I wished it was something that was a part of my life regularly.

Another man sat near me on the bus in a different day and my reaction was completely different.  Because he looked like David Pawson, who is or was a lot into male authority.  I’ve seen a couple of people who reminded me of him.  I wondered if I am missing something, not having a personal male authority.  The male authority is supposed to be loving and caring and enabling rather than dominating and restrictive.  Sometimes I wish I had one,  But I felt this man’s presence and decided I didn’t like it and when he got off the bus he looked me hard in the eye, which is what I get a lot here, and I said some men think every woman s theirs to look in the eye and it isn’t true, it is abusive. But I might have been the one who was being abusive, I thought afterwards, and the poor man might not have had all these ideas like David Pawson, whose model is partly the protection of the woman anyway.  Right doctrine is concerned with right behaviour, and I know that, at the moment, my hormones make me weaker than most men and in need of protection.  Obviously it can go wrong if it gets overprotective and restrictive.  A woman’s wishes matter.

A Taste of Freedom

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

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

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

Some Homework For New Readers

Put ‘Monarch Mind Control’ into my blog’s search and watch the Youtube video.

Yesterday, Today . . . Forever???

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

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

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

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

This Moment IS

The staff on the ward have found my blog, without me giving them the address but saying angrily a few times that I was going to blog.  The ward manager collared me twice, once quite softly and the second time in a way which made me feel they wanted to take my computer and my leave away.  The second time she approached me with 2 other female staff members and in public.  She said she wanted to talk about my use of my computer on the ward.  I said it was music and that I have no internet connection on the ward.  She asked me quite crossly where I wrote my blog and how I wrote it and I pointed out that I have 5 1/2 hours total off the ward and I go where I can get a connection and that I have the same freedoms as everyone else in that time.  They said they did not like having their names associated with certain things.  I said that I have things associated with my name which I don’t like also, and that they were free to write or comment.  It was probably in that context that she said that it was a matter of confidentiality, but I took it to mean that she was saying I was breaking a duty of confidentiality which I was quick to point out that I do not have but that they do.  They talked about seeking advice.  I said OK.  I hope if and when they do the outcome will make a big difference in society and for people who are held against their wishes and with other forms of abuse, harassment and bullying thrown in.

This is good.

They saw me coming towards the office/ward exit this afternoon and it seemed to me they deliberately closed the office door and I stood outside knocking with them ignoring me.  This happens often.  The staff last night were calling people rude.  I’m not sure who they meant.  At the time it seemed it was obvious they meant me.

2 nights ago a woman had 2 separate instances of being forcibly medicated.  Hefty men called and involved, on an all-female ward.  If anyone knows how that is appropriate I would appreciate the feedback through comments.  She said they had hurt her hand and it was all swollen and red.  I know I have been there, in London.  It took 6 months for my hand to stop hurting, and the man doing it at the time, when I said he was hurting me, said ‘well, you will learn your lesson, then, won’t you?’  I was never contemptuous of my own life until I felt betrayed by the church and came under the psychiatric services.

We appear to have a large degree of revolt and anarchy on the ward at the moment.  Everyone is angry and the staff are, to my mind, often unprofessional.  Everyone knows what is happening but the staff say nothing, and I think most of us patients know they know more than they are allowing us to be party to and that, if we were allowed to be party to the staff’s knowledge of what everyone knows, a lot of things might be called into question.  Just a thought.

This blog is exactly what it says in the title, that and nothing else – the thoughts and observations of a certified nut.  Why would anyone want to seek advice over that?

Did I say that I had had a bad week as a vegan last week?  I was tempted again earlier this week but I talked myself through it.  I went through the ‘so I’ll feel guilty’ bit and realised afresh that it is about the suffering or death or utilisation of an animal in a way which is not ideal.  I decided we are different from most of the animal world in that we have a conscience and can think, philosophise and moralise about our behaviour.  I had tears in my eyes as I thought it through.  I was happy about that.  It is about the animal and about me, living according to my light.

Jesus is wonderful and I love Him.  He ate fish.  I’m not sure how to harmonise that.  It is said that the prophets were vegetarian and that the Essenes were also.  And I believe it is right not to use animals.  So I can’t deal with the Jesus and fish thing – not at all, in that context.  I think I was taught at Bible College that John the Baptist was an Essene.  So while they might have said ‘but Jesus ate fish so it isn’t wrong’, why would John the Baptist have lived by a higher morality?  We were told that when it says JTB ate locusts, it actually means the locust bean, and not the insect.

I??? Think???

Ever tried to write without any kind of privacy in a world where everyone always seems to react to you?

I’m back in hospital in Nottingham.  Section 2.  I’ve been thinking it is more like a boot camp than a place where people can heal, and people are the best managers of their own healing, I think.

Not much time.  I get 2 hours out twice a day.  Having tried to work my way through the anger of impatient and clever-clogs librarians and twitterers, I have 13 minutes left of my original 30.

People want me to come into line, but if I come into line with what I have, they would reject me, orsomething which to me would be meaningless.  So why can’t people just respect my privacy and my right to be who I am in the first place without using their job to do whatever it is they are trying to do which is, in my opinion, in breach of that?

What else was I going to say?  I started off with so much rthat shoulod have filled so much time, now I can’t think how to fill the time I have left.

I was on the bus just now.  Saw a man who looked like Gordon Ramsey.  I wondered if he knew or had been told or if that was what he was trying for.  Then I had a thought I might have had before.  If someone is trying to look like someone else, they might not be happy with who they are.  So saying to someone ‘do you kinow you look like . . . ?’ is not a very helpful thing, even and especially if that is what they are trying to do.  I decided I would not say to people again, with a pleasurable smile on my face ‘you look like . . .’, because even if that gave them satisfaction, it would be satisfaction in the wrong thing, and it wouldn’t last long, because they are not that person.

I decided any pleasurable comment about a person should be about who they are, not who they remind you of.  Also they might be sick of being told they look like someone else and feel about this the same way that I am writing now.  That they want to be a pleasure, or affirmed, for who they are, and not who they remind you of.  At root that is what everyone wants, whether they know it or not.

4 minutes left.  Time to tag and run.

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.

 

I tried to post this comment on AOL in response to the article found here.  I don’t know why it has not appeared, but I am posting it here to both register it and preserve it.

“Children exposed to abuse and domestic violence react the same as soldiers. I suppose there is nothing unusual or revelatory in that. My question is why is it only these two groups which are compared with each other? I would imagine that anyone faced with or experiencing threat to themselves or others close to them react the same way, and that those reactions become entrenched in their behaviour and responses if their situation is not addressed and they are taught that, generally, they are safe, if that is a true thing to teach them.

Is this just another study to show how ‘necessary’ the mental health services are? I have not felt so powerless since I was a child in a violent home as I have over the last 20 years, since my contact with the mental health services began and I was inextricably involved with and locked in to their abuse and intimidation and dishonesty.

Since it has been raised in this article I will assume it is not off-topic. It is not OK to take non-consenting adults, or children, that have not been informed of the cause for concern or involved in conversation about those concerns, and lock them up and drug them like animals with which we cannot communicate. I propose that if the individual does not feel served, ultimately the community is not served. And in this situation, if the individual does not FEEL served, they are NOT served, nor is their family, whatever power games and denials are involved.”

It says I do on the website.

However, payment implies contract, and obligations of the provider to stick to the expressed terms of the contract.

Whereas the BBC makes programmes unavailable at will which are normally available, regularly pulls recordings earlier than even the 24 hour period they are advertised for, as with the BBC News At One or indeed any of those slots – if, sometimes, they are put up at all.  Or programmes I particularly want to watch broadcast at times I was particularly interested in carry the ‘this content doesn’t appear to be working’ sign.  Recently a lot of programmes where the next week’s episode was already being broadcast were unavailable for watching or download, even early in the broadcast, even though they should have been available for 1-3 hours longer.

And many of the ‘technical’ issues they will plead are technical issues not of machinery, I believe, but of law, or of letting their ‘stalked ones’ know who is the boss.

Well, if we are expected to part with our money to use this service, we are the boss.  If, however, the rules are changeable at will, it seems to me that is a breach of the contract we thought we were entering into.

I wanted to watch tonight’s ‘Newsnight’, because of a post I began to draft last night which I lost most of when I lost my connection to the internet, so I have to try to reconstruct it.  I lost my connection 25 minutes before I had finished the post, and never realised, because I was able to continue typing and even input category ticks.  I tried to save the draft when the most used tags menu wouldn’t fall, and that was when I was told the page was not available, and saw I had put too much pressure on my connection cable.

I said something in it about one of Jeremy Paxman’s comments last week and how I was grateful for it, and mentioned the names of some of the Lords I noticed on today’s session and jokingly wondered when we would see a Lord de Misrule.  Lo and behold, content is not working, at time of writing.  As on many occasions before.

So I don’t think that, in law, I should owe the BBC any money, because they regularly and at will break the terms of the contract for provision of the iPlayer and its use.  So as it is, I think the iPlayer should be seen as a facility that does not require you to have a TV licence.  And obviously the way they are using it might not only be in breach of Consumer Rights but also of employment contracts, if the broadcast presenters expect the material to be available and are somehow being bullied into accepting its unavailability to the public.

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

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

Nasty runt in corner has just upped and gone.

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

I’m having an awful time at the moment, as far as being a vegan is concerned.

I keep wanting to give it up and go back to ‘normal’, happy, easily sociable and available eating.  The only reason I can’t and don’t is that I believe in my reasons for having become vegan in the first place.

So miserable!  I believe in my reasons, that I have no needs that require the death or utilisation of any other animal.  But recently I have wanted to rush straight back, with great joy, to being omnivorous.

I say ‘only one reason’, but that isn’t quite true.  Also my stalkers would never let it rest, and having made such a big thing about the rightness of veganism, I would be embarrassed.  I’d be confused myself, though, and I would also be doing an act of violence to myself to go back to being omnivorous.  People might get all chummy with me about having seen the light of omnivorism, and the error of my ways in trying to be vegan.  And sitting here writing this, right now, I can’t say for sure that I could never agree with that.  That would be saying that the life of an animal doesn’t matter so much that we can’t eat it, which is what I was brought up with, that we have God’s blessing to take an animal’s life for food.  I would like to believe that is true and feel I am just being proud and rebellious saying it isn’t.

I feel mesmerised, and also that I just can’t be bothered being a vegan anymore.  But as ever I don’t know what I feel and think as soon as I try to put it to print and think about it.  The same stuff is still happening.  I can’t tell the path from the scrub.

Internal tapes:

1.  Animals are for eating

2.  Christian Fundamentaslism is good or

3.  Christian fundamentalism is convenient because

4.  I want to eat what I can eat with fundamentalist, right-wing Christians

5.  I AM a fundamentalist, right-wing Christian.  If God says I can kill for ease and appetite, I CAN, and thank God for that!  If he says it I don’t have to think about it.  (what is this resentment I have against those who will not kill?  What is this need, what is this love, this strong emotion, I feel for and towards those who will not kill to eat?  It must be admiration, and more.  That the position of these people is where my heart is, the place I am challenged to recognise as right.  I would hate to convert someone from veganism/vegetarianism to being omnivorous.  I would hate to bring them down from their high place to such a place of shame.  And I would hate to have them validate my own).

6.  I AM a fundamentalist, right-wing Christian, in many ways, but also being a vegan, I could never fit in.  I would be teased all the time for being a vegan, and if I objected, it would be MY holiness called into question, and not theirs.  It could be fun and humorous, but there will also be those who go, in absolute conviction, for the fact that the Bible says that after the flood, God gave permission to eat meat, and re-asserted it later in the NT.

At the same time, in many arguers, there is a secret wanting to see it the same way as you do yourself.  It’s about liking and trusting and feeling safe, to some extent.  I was thinking last night that if someone says ‘thank you’ and a Christian says in response ‘it’s a blessing’, what the Christian is really saying is ‘I like you’.  It’s/you’re a blessing = I like you (or any other ordinary affirmation and expression of positive feeling/perception).

God IS, and we are dependent on Him.  But we are also dependent on air, for example.  We just breathe, it is automatic.  We don’t keep the air in mind and keep bringing it up AS need and essential.  If we did, it would demonstrate insecurity and that perhaps our supply was somehow threatened or contaminated.  In ordinary everyday life we don’t make constant references to the air to facilitate breathing or ANYTHING.  Or to our own bodies.  We don’t need to.

I Don’t Have To

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

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

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

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

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

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

King David – Camera Snap From a War Zone

David said, ‘Let a righteous man strike me, it is a kindness’.  Is this the truth, or is it, like his affair with Bathsheba and ordering her husband to be killed in battle, a sign of emotional sickness?

Poor little guy, one of many sons, the youngest and despised, sent out every day to look after the sheep on his own.  With nothing but his target skills and his harp and singing and his idealised idea, in his loneliness, of his relationship with God, to keep him going.

When his father Jesse was asked by Samuel to get all of his sons together because he wanted to anoint one of them to be king after Saul, neither Jesse nor the rest of his sons gave David a thought.  He was out there with the sheep.  Samuel got to the end of everyone who was in front of him, the story says, and God said ‘no’ to all of them, and he had to ask if there was another son.  When Jesse said yes, he said yes but, not oh yes of course.  Samuel had to insist on him being brought in.

Later Saul kept trying to kill him, and he and Jonathan agreed a code that Jonathan would use to tell David that he needed to flee, if he thought so.  And David fled.  He got to a city and pretended madness, he lied to cover his tracks and people were killed in the wake of that.  Yet he said he would not fear.  He was very afraid and in denial, whatever his affirmations and confessions.  He said he was convinced of his own righteousness and that God was with him and knew him in his righteousness.  It seems to me his suffering and isolation had pushed him over the edge.  He felt he had to be perfect or something to be loved and approved of, and so he asserted that he was, exulted in it, and told God he was a perfect and righteous man.

And my teachers have believed his reported self-assessment.

It seems to me this is faulty interpretation and exegesis and shows no understanding of human psychology.

They are as much in denial about him as he was about himself, and as the prophet might have been who said God had said David was a man after God’s own heart, who would fulfil all of God’s desires.  And yet God had to tell David, when he wanted to build him a temple, that he was not the man to do it, because he was a man of blood.  He went around killing people and cutting off foreskins for trophies.

The Bible, reportedly, shows people as they were.  It doesn’t say that everything that came from his life and pen and lips were God’s truth.  The Bible, if it is true, is the truth about the people in it, and what they say is from God is not necessarily from God at all, and it is undiscerning and maybe a bit afraid to look at every word the people who are called God’s servants say and think they are all right and perfect and can all be synthesised into being truth in themselves, just because they are in the Bible and came from people who have been made, historically and by the will and judgment of men, both at the time and since then, into heroes.

When the Bible says God was with him, does it just mean that people loved and protected him?  The Bible was written by men, and men said that God was with him – because they had a warrior mentality?

David said I am for peace but they are for war.  So why did God say he couldn’t build his temple because he was a man of blood?  He was holding David responsible.  Or Nathan’s prophetic spirit and internal workings were.  Later David prayed ‘deliver me from blood guiltiness, Oh my God’.  So what was Nathan’s bag?  He put a real heavy on him, and made him live without formal punishment, which was obviously a psychological need and would have been appropriate.  (thought: unless man of blood is just referring to the thing with Uriah, then of course I am just being arrogant and proud again deciding it was about his killing sprees, which in the eyes of Israel were worth eulogising – Saul has killed his thousands and David his tens of thousands.  That was why Saul wanted to kill him – he was jealous.  It says the hand of God was with David because he was killing so many people.  Whose judgment was that?  Was it REALLY God’s?)

When it says the glory of the Lord filled the place and the priest’s could not go about their work, does it mean there was a sudden emotional and psychological crisis felt by all that no one knew how to handle? So they fell on their faces and worshipped until – what – released them?

I’m sure this could be taken much further.  I love the fact that it can.  But then who is God?  Who are you?  Who am I?  And what is good?  And how can we free ourselves of this evil and hero protecting mentality to pursue what is right and good, and not what is safe and cosy and cronyistic and cliquey and maudlin?

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Read it here in Scottish or English.

I was watching yesterday’s news coverage of Osama Bin Laden’s death, and found myself thinking, ‘A man’s a man, for all that’, and I knew it was a quotation, but I wasn’t sure where from, so I looked it up.  I was thinking it not to belittle a man and say he is dispensable, but to exalt him as a creature of intrinsic worth and nobility.  I was thinking it for Osama Bin Laden.  I was disagreeing with David Cameron and other world leaders who have expressed satisfaction over his death.  By extension I was also thinking it for the rest of us, including those of us who have found justification in holding the bitterness and unforgiveness that can allow us to say of a fellow human being, ‘good, he is dead’, rather than expressing regret that his killing was a necessary part, so we are being told, of bringing justice.

I believe that kind of expression of that kind of feeling brutalises and degrades us and makes us less than the ‘man’ that our own nature demands we should be.  The Bible says, in one of the Psalms, that we are gods, and that the big God gave His Son to die for our sins, while we were still sinners.  Jesus quoted that Psalm and said the scripture cannot be broken.

I have heard it taught that Islam was formed as a religion in direct opposition to Christianity and Judaism.  I think I heard that from Colin Dye’s platform.  I think we have to ask why.  Christians used to hold killing crusades.  Christians sided with Hitler in the killing of Jews.  Shakespeare’s ‘The Merchant of Venice’ was one of my set texts at school.  It was about a Jewish money lender who lent money to a Christian on the terms that he forfeit a pound of his own flesh if he defaulted.  All the Christian’s ships were lost at sea.  A woman called Portia argued the Christian’s case in court, and he was reprieved because the forfeit did not mention the shedding of blood, and Shylock, the money lender, was mockingly and derisively invited to take the pound of flesh, but if in so doing he shed one drop of blood he would have a forfeit of his own.  I think it was his life, but I can’t remember.

The first line of Portia’s famous speech, ‘the quality of mercy is not strained’, is often quoted and held to be a thing of great beauty.  But earlier the Jewish money lender had a great and truly painful speech of his own, basically saying ‘I am a man like you’, and the one part I can definitely remember and that registers with me deeply on an emotional level is where he talks about being in the street and having people ‘spit upon my Jewish gabardine’.  And although the quality of mercy is not strained, it seems that, from his humiliation at the end, it was meant to achieve mercy for Antonio, the Christian, but to be a lesson, yet another painful life lesson, to Shylock, the despised Jewish money lender.  I would like to draw more points from this play but I am not familiar with it any more and would need to read it again.  Points about if Shylock had gained his money legally and honourably, why was he so despised by the people who borrowed from him?  Did they need to borrow, would they have needed to borrow if they had not been so greedy themselves?  So why despise their provider?  Shylock’s requirement of Antonio was probably meant only to express his own distaste at lending to a man who spat upon his Jewish gabardine, or represented people who did.  He never expected, in all probability, that he would be in a position to call for the forfeit.  It was probably meant as a verbal expression of hate for hate.  The fact he called for it is obviously inexcusable, but would have been an expression of his own sick feelings of hate and revenge brought on by the abuse and constant humiliation.  Antonio was a rich merchant.  Shylock was a rich money lender.  What was Shylock’s sin?  Without reading again, it must have been that he was Jewish.  Shylock the Jew did not kill Jesus any more than Antonio the Christian (by affiliation and Christian country ‘birthright’ or by life changing choice and conviction?) did.  But Shylock was hated.

I’m not sure what the point of that is in this post.  Maybe it is just a way for me to say ‘this is hurting me’, because I identify emotionally with Shylock in his feelings over the abuse he received, regardless of any consideration of business ethics and morality.  I started crying when I found and read the Robert Burns poem and found it so perfect and beautiful, and that feeling hasn’t left me while considering Shylock.

My church used to say ‘hate the sin but love the sinner’.  We are justifying hating both the sin and the sinner, and that degrades both us and the sinner.  We are justifying such hatred towards a man that we rejoice in his death.  He couldn’t have achieved anything without his followers, and even though their figurehead has died, passed through death, if they choose revenge rather than deciding to change track and work themselves for brotherhood and world peace, I cannot see how the death of Osama Bin Laden can be seen as an ‘important step forward’, or the similar words used by my own beloved and respected prime minister, David Cameron.  So I would want to appeal to both sides, in the name of God and in the name of love and humanity, to please cool it and stop the revenge and attacks and the seeking of ‘justice’.  I would want to ask that, as Christians, we love our radical Islamic enemies, enough to uncover enough humility of our own to consider what it is that has so filled them with hatred and be willing to apologise and actively pursue reparation and healing of relationships with them, to stop the self-righteous demands and invective, and to approach them with the love and honour and humility we should employ, according to the Bible, towards all men.  I’m not saying that I myself am good at that, but I hope the character of our leaders is made of such stuff that they might be different, and be so openly, and not try to ‘confound the enemy’ by presenting a different face publicly than the one they present privately.   Our enemies need to know and see that we are honest and open not only about our rights, but about theirs, and about our own failings, even historical, and willingness to make reparation.  I don’t believe it is true, for any human being, that violence is all they understand.  The Bible says that the desire of a man is constant love, and I think that goes for everyone, and we need to be braver in showing that.  Vulnerable love, not tough love.  Active and proactive vulnerable love and openness to others.  ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I understand’ and ‘yes, you’re right’ and ‘thank you, I hadn’t thought of that’, and even ‘I love you, are you OK, can I help you?’ love and pursuit of justice.

Love and concern for each other should flow from the top down and the bottom up and spread out and come in, and maybe then the right policies will be obvious and not take up so much time in our relationships, governmental and otherwise.  I want to see the leaders of my world loving one another.  Having therapy sessions and love-ins, most of the time, instead of arguments and policy formation.  If they can pass on the benefits of that to us and across international boundaries, it might change everything about our living and thinking and being in the world and with each other.

I believe all of this is part of our intrinsic worth and nobility which we abandon at our peril and that we need to rediscover, and part of what it means to be ‘A Man, for A’ That’.

In Jesus’ Name.

Amen.

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

Or, to all stalkers and computer hackers everywhere.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But . . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Edit note:  1.20 pm UK time.

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

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

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

I felt strong, right and enabled.

Then Peter Dobbie moved in for the kill.

He inflicted a gross enormity on my mind.

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

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

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

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

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

You savage, irresponsible, stupid bastard(s).

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

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

Etc.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Obviously, I would be the mad woman.

I just heard some of the talk going on in Parliament about nice despots.  That is the impression I got anyway. So I thought I had better say something in my defence before I am made to look a more complete idiot than I actually am.

Practically, despots are made, not born.  What has happened in this man’s life that kindness and respect, rather than censure and name-calling, just might put right?  Is an expression of love ever wrong or inappropriate?  After people fight me down over my anger, even if it is an appropriate feeling, I still end up loving them, even feeling I like them, but by that time so much has been said and done it is a much more embarrassing feeling for me.

But then there is the stalking of which I am constantly aware, so that obviously affects the way I relate to people.

Practically from my point of view, my softness on Gadaffi might be for two reasons.  I only say might, the only information I have is what is thrown at me, I don’t know him.

Reason 1.  I don’t know my history (even if I did I might want to approach it as a therapist, not a judge).

Reason 2. My life has been filled with despotic/insecure/silently-wounded authority figures that people have insisted I should love, respect, obey and be grateful for.  My father, my grandfather, some of my teachers, some of my Church leaders?, some of the police, some of my psychiatrists and other psychiatric staff, neighbours, landlords, employers, fellow employees, some media people.  Etc, etc.  To me, both verbal and physical abuse and assault have been involved, and slander and defamation, and I was still expected to live with it and told it was OK, that the law allowed it, or they didn’t mean it, or it was just the way they were, or to get over it because it was a long time ago, or no one cared to give me an answer anyway.  Much of this has affected my life in negative ways, some of them irrevocable.

So those feelings which I have been brainwashed and tortured into feeling, the rationalisations I have been forced to adopt, are transferred to world despots, and I feel sympathy for them.  Or a sense of duty towards them.  I suppose sympathy, if I feel in any way filial, or identify with them in their despotism and what might have shaped and railroaded them into that.

I can’t write anymore.  The woman in my personal torture-chamber upstairs is murdering my thoughts and emotions and leaving me feeling so desperate and like minced meat.  They are violent and invasive and disrespectful of my privacy and harassing. Am I a target of evangelism, or is it milk the Anglichanka, or what?  Here Anglichanka, me , Anglichanka, I’m a baby bird, feed me, I’m good.  Don’t know.  They are violent and very personally invasive.  And I can’t think straight.  They are grabbing at my life and emotions like children with toys, sticking needles in me and sucking out the nectar, and saying I have to go to them to get it back.  That is how it feels.  Enough already, they insinuate themselves into everything.

BBC World News Et Al

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes, there has been a major disaster in Japan, a place, for some reason, which is close to my heart, but I am too much of an ignoramus and too alone to have much to say or contribute.

But apart from that,  I know, even with what I am experiencing in my own locality, that most of what I am being exposed to is spiritual impersonation, much of it rapacious and debilitating and violent and viscerally accusing and manipulative and dishonest.  Just about everything you feel while exposed to it is a demonic imposition.  Even though I might not be able personally to possess that, I know it is true.  I’m failing to live in the knowledge, which is a bit new in it’s present formulation anyway, I don’t feel at all empowered by it, my neighbours keep yelling and banging, seeming to think somehow that might help them, or opposing me, or something (I feel differently at different times, and probably they do as well), but I still know it is true.

It is easy to know that when dealing with non-Christian sources.  When it involves Christian sources or sources which appear to believe they are Christian sources, it’s a bit more complicated.

I’ve been watching BBC World News.  That was when I realised in a way I never have before.  It is a spiritual impersonation and a form of spiritualistic, psychic phishing.  It is also a source of the most scathing and cynical accusation, based on stalking and psychological profiling dressed up as a news report.  The story is the vehicle for the persecution.  I know that is a grievous thing to say, but from what I have seen and heard I have no reason to think anything different.  I’m not saying ‘all hail the church and its organs’, even though I feel it to some degree when I write something like this.  I know that what I am saying is the truth and I don’t know what to do with it.  I know this sounds awful for a Christian to say, but my neighbours are spiritually leeching on me to such an extent communication isn’t something I can cope with very well.  When I am trying to write something like this, that I need to have believed and accepted and not separated from the essence of who I am, the interjections I get from my neighbours leave me feeling terrified and hysterically desperate, it is like spiritual theft and murder.

I know this sounds horrible, but the way the woman keeps yelling – .  OK, for one thing, God knows it is spiritual impersonation.  But she is like a begging leech, combining it at periods, like just now, right just now, with violent banging on my ceiling, and when I am not doing my best not to cry hysterically, begging them because I am taken in by the impersonation, she reminds me of the little core creatures that chased the people at the end of the sequel to Stepford Wives, desperately grasping and grabbing on to the people who were fleeing for freedom.

I think she impersonates a child as well.  I think it is a form of demonic accusation.  The Lord knows I know this, whatever they make me feel.

I think she is really insane.  I feel like I’m being clung to by a really unclean thing.  I don’t think I have ever felt anything quite like it.

Presence

As soon as you write, as soon as you speak, as soon as you watch or listen to something, you are already removed from your core reality.

I think that is our problem.  We are too noisy, too busy, too dazzled, too driven, too personally dispersed and fragmented, too opinionated, etc, etc, to make real connections.

I believe that’s the truth.

I’m thinking about economic and employment philosophy and why we are urged to live such a market place life, instead of nuclear and private.  I don’t know.  I’m an ignoramus.  I couldn’t tell you.  Even my question might be stupid.  Harking back to a localist paradise that never existed.  There has always been intermational trade and relationships.  We should want to open up to the world, shouldn’t we?

What An Idiot!

Written Saturday, 26th February.

“You idiot, what a stupid thing to do!”

Isn’t that much more human and kind and accessible and friendly than finding something offensive and constructing an argument about it to demonstrate that it is offensive and being dogmatic about its motivation?  At least in normal circumstances.  Even then, maybe we need to broaden our understanding of all the things that should carry the label, “normal”.

I just looked at someone I was offended with earlier, and while I believe I understand what they are doing and that it is offensive and I can make all the arguments as to why and how, I just thought, “honestly, what an idiot, what a stupid thing to do”, and the lack of a thesis or essay about it made it far less charged.

I thought about it for a few minutes afterwards.  I decided that, sometimes, being a Christian and therefore not free to call someone stupid or an idiot, in good conscience, can make you far less human and sympathetic in the way you approach people when they are idiots and do stupid things.

Then I thought again.  Where did this restriction come from, the idea that you can’t call someone an idiot?  Is it Christian?  While it is true that Jesus said if you call your brother a fool you will be in danger of hell fire, the Old Testament talks a lot about fools, especially in the Book of Proverbs, and there is a parable about the man who built bigger barns to store his grain and congratulated himself about having plenty stored up, that God said to him, “you fool, this night your soul will be required of you”.  Whatever we might think of that concept of God, even though the Bible says it was Jesus who told the story, perhaps the fact that it is in the Bible should indicate that Bible believing, evangelical Christians, if we don’t already do so, should hold a more liberal view about just calling people stupid when it might be more appropriate and productive than having to construct an argument.  Because some behaviour obviously is stupid, and sometimes the best way to deal with it, in the right kind of relationship where the person can accept and respond to it, is just to say so.

So I’m not sure how I got the idea that you can’t just tell someone they are being an idiot and their behaviour is stupid, in an affectionate, good natured way, and they could just exhale in relief and maybe slightly embarrassed recognition and change it.  maybe someone was censorious with me at some point for doing that, or maybe someone whose opinion I value would be against it.  If so, me, what an idiot, what a stupid thing to do, to take that on board, maybe, and the person who influenced me could well be an idiot, at least over that, also.  Having to construct arguments and theses all the time doesn’t half kill the flow of fondness in relationships, and all the positive change that comes out of that.

It’s just a thought, for normal circumstances.

I think this is a stupid post written by an idiot.

I wrote this on Saturday.  I was going to change the title, but I’ve forgotten what to.  The link I am inserting relates to the end of my post where I mention Newsnight and Simon Schama, who was the historian in the first post on this blog in May last year.

I’m not sure why I’m putting it out.  I feel a bit dissociative at the moment.  Apologies to Peter Dobby if I have got him completely wrong.  I know I’m not the only person who thinks that everyone else is evil when they are in a crisis they haven’t made themselves.  A bad thing isn’t made good because it is done with good motives – she says moralistically.  I don’t even know if that is right in this case, where I feel protectively stalked by the media.  If I say I feel protectively stalked, why am I not protecting them?  Maybe because I am a vengeful, selfish and cynical cow.  I don’t know why I’m not protecting them, and I feel wrong for not doing.  I should be so grateful, I feel, in some ways.  As for Peter, I saw his own distress, and I feel really bad about what I said in other posts and what I have include here.  I’m interpreting everything selfishly and cruelly.  If anyone is exposed by what I’ve said about him it is me and not him. I hope so.  I’m sorry, Peter.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00zfmwq/Newsnight_Revolution_2011/

My computer keeps being crashed.  Last night I lost the biggest chunk of text I have ever lost on WordPress.  It normally saves automatically.

As I was saying, Peter Dobby is a complete bastard, a cruel and unkind person who delights in the devastation he causes another to feel.  he can barely hide it.

I was also saying that, although these people might seem soft and casual, don’t be deceived.  They have a rapacious agenda they know about but do not acknowledge to us, they carry it out ruthlessly.  They seem soft and casual, but they are highly driven, hardsell people, and are inquisitors and torturers.  Deliberately.  It isn’t that some of them are hard and some of them are nice.  They have the same agenda.  It’s called the iron fist/velvet glove approach.

Jesus said don’t cast your pearls before swine, or they will turn again and rend you to pieces.  They act like velvet, don’t they?  Like a glass of Baileys.

Peter Dobby just said ‘plenty more to come in the programme’.  As he was saying it, or something just before it, he was looking down on the desk, looking at the desk like a kind human being looks at a friend, but when he lifted his face up to the camera, he put a blank, hardly there for anyone look on his face, completely untouchable and contemptuous and as if he had a bad smell under his nose.  We were meant to see both.  The ones of us that get attacked by them were meant to want to fly at him in retaliation, or beg him to stop or something, at which point he would get our story, and suddenly our minds would be wiped clean and we would be back in favour and no longer under threat and none of the tactics they had used would matter to us anymore, because breaking and giving them what they wanted would seem like the right and reasonable thing to do.  There is so much of the ending of 1984 in this.  The couple are separated from each other, passing each other in the street and hardly seeing each other, the torture and betrayal have been that deep and awful, and the final scene is something involving an imposed consciousness of ‘Big Brother’, a voice or a picture or something like that, and the man sits there in tears, realising, as I think it is the last sentence of the book that says this, that he loved Big Brother.  They had been caught by surreptitious and deceptive state surveillance and their relationship broken by torture.

The face Peter Dobby lifted to the camera, that is the programme. Or part of the programme, the psychologically violent one.  When they talk about the programme, they are using so many therapy type things and terms, and guided fantasy methods and word pictures (bodies and buildings, for instance) that I hear ‘programme’ as psychological programme, and I think that is what they mean.  I was going to say they all do it, but now I am confused.  I’m pretty sure they do.  I’m emotionally breaking at the moment, what they are doing is making me feel  disorientated and dislocated and really bad, especially the delight they appear to be taking in my humiliation.  It’s so bad, I even feel guilty about reworking a post, the blank, Frankenstein’s monster look he puts out with the provocation very few people are meant to see and understand makes me feel hysterical and incapable of communication.  So does my neighbours’ silence when I react to their invasiveness and provocation.  It seems to me their silence is as deliberate as everything else.

I’ve said before that they go for my throat.  I just watched, for the second time, this time just because it was on the television when I switched it on, Thursday night’s Newsnight, talking about the Libyan uprising.  One of the guests said it was as if something had been taken off of their throats and their voices now sounded clear to him.  The historian Simon Schama, who I have written about before, was there, and he picked up the significance of that and looked very guilty and shocked.  I believe he was thinking about me, perhaps, at least among others.  But the look of guilt was there.  They put the stalking into the community, play on your controlling feelings, for instance, guilt and shame, and using your neighbours as the people who hold you up against the wall as they beat you up, they lay into you. It’s occultism and salacious insolence.  It is so outrageous you want to hit back, if they’ve already worked you over and you understand what they have done and are still having to live with it, and at the same time they put their faces into yours, through the camera, and say ‘what are you going to do about it?’.  The way they eyeball the camera, eyeballing the person their speech is tailored to, and hold your eye while they shout the name of their colleague, which might or might not be your name, is abusive.  It IS deliberate and it IS abusive.  It’s intimidation, and it’s like staring down a dog.

Final PS – is narrowcasting legal?  Very narrow casting?  Based on information you have collected through electronic communications about a person, or collected by some other means?  Read the paragraphs in bold.  Internet Explorer.  If it isn’t legal, what are they playing at, and how much can I sue them for?

Dear BBC World News – I have a right to watch the tv, especially the news, without being deliberately and specifically targetted by you or anyone else for spiritual and psychological attack.  God is going to break you and everyone else who attacks me.  That is His promise.  He does not tell lies.  Not like you and whoever you feel empowered by.

When I was a kid we were shown public information films at school, about the dangers of getting into a car with someone we didn’t know.  I seem to remember, although I might be mixing it up with instructions on traffic lights, that red is for danger.  I’ve also learned to associate it with aggression over the years, and I think that is a commonly held perception.

I was just watching Lyse Doucet(t?), and she was standing there in red, almost saying, ‘touch me if you dare’. After what I have seen and heard from her before, I felt helped by this perception.  She talks almost like someone with brain damage, in her attempts to sound casual, but I thought what I saw at the end of her live report revealed a very driving woman, not casual at all.  My question is, why the act?  And the smile at the end of her report on Libya was almost triumphant and self-satisfied.

I thought today, when I saw one of the female reporters, there they are, using things specific to me, continually, not just stuff that is part of the common culture and available choices which are ‘completely coincidental’ in their constant recurrence (they might be!  It’s called making fashionable choices, perhaps, but funnily enough, every ‘unfashionable’ choice I have made over the years has been quickly copied by the industry, like the teaming of colours.  Maybe it is what Jung would have called a product of the oversoul [is that the right figure of speech?], where the same different thing pops up at the same time in 2 different and unrelated places – but I think not).  That was a long bracket, I’d better start again.  When I saw one of the female reporters (jobbing actors) today, putting a face almost blank of expression up at the camera and vocally acting out feelings which, if real, come from somewhere right behind your midriff, and given the fact that they use so much of my stuff, I thought that was probably a very good explanation of why, when I encounter blankness and worse from other people, emotionally I fold from the stomach, and nothing I do can help me retrieve myself.  Because even when they see me fold, the blankness or worse remains, when I hope for sympathy and identification.  Maybe they don’t see it.  If they do, I obviously don’t know how, in my case, they interpret it.  Perhaps they think I am copying the people on the television and think I am above myself, when actually I believe the exact opposite is the case.

Strange, lady whatever her name is, Kate something, I thought she was Natasha Kaplinsky, I thought that was her name on ‘Would I Lie To You?’ the one with hair like Worzel Gummidge – talk about scrambling stereotypes and perceptions, as Simon Schama said the other day on Thursday’s Newsnight) has just (it was ‘just’ when I typed it at about 12.50 pm, half an hour ago – I separated this paragraph from its order and context so the post would read more easily) mentioned a ‘delusional’ character in “Black Swan”, and now she is copying my laugh, and all of my deepest emotional expressions (remember they are jobbing actors) like she and so many others copy the way I often used to say in delighted gratitude and desire to hold onto the relationship with the person I was speaking to, ‘thank you very much . . . thank you’ – that is me, it is very upsetting to hear them all doing it back at me).  These people are egomaniacal thieves.  They do it to each other as well.  I don’t know, maybe some of these people really are as empty-headed as the day they were born.  Maybe the flashes of intelligence and apparent conscience have only been born in them since reading blogs by people like me.

I’ve had enough of this post now.  They’re still criminals.  Civil disobedience is one thing, but stalking a vulnerable person is something else.  Remind me to talk about Ruby Wax’s latest money spinner.  On ‘Something For The Weekend’.  I don’t like what I see and hear there, something is amiss – in my opinion, which is obviously nowhere near as perfect as these people’s.

PS  The paragraph that starts “I thought today, when I saw one of the female reporters . . .’ was the beginning of this post going out of control.  This has happened in other posts as well.  Something seems to happen when I start typing, they place a few trigger words from my personal life or writing or telephone calls or desperation talk at the still plugged in headphones on Saturday, and it seems as if it is being used as a marker or something, then they verbally run off in this way, in exactly the same way which is hysterically replicated in my post from that point on.  Today I switched the sound off after about 5 minutes and tried to retrieve as much self-control as possible, but with neighbours banging at me when I shout at the man on the telly that he is not going to shout at me like that and to get off my telly it’s a bit difficult, and it does affect my self-control in writing and speaking.  It seems the only thing that is allowed from women around here by way of distress is high voiced hysteria.  Which I obviously felt touched by, or it wouldn’t be haunting me, but there is nothing I can do for them, and I didn’t bang at her while she was doing it.  Would I have left her screaming in pain and anger and desperation, unable to breathe and feeling as if I was dying, as she did me?  I don’t know.

Something else, while I think of it.  I recently had a new hard drive disk put into my computer.  When I did, the messages from Internet Explorer went back to the way I remembered them ages ago.  Ordinary, technically-couched information about crashes and unavailability of websites.  But after a few days I noticed that the messages I was getting about unavailable websites went back to what I had become used to and afraid of and angered by and felt assaulted by on my old disk.  The message I have started getting again for unavailable websites reads something like this:

‘Internet Explorer is unable to connect you to this website.  It appears that the website continues to have a problem’. 

‘It appears that x continues to have a problem’  is something I have come to associate with charismatic and housechurch groups.  It is the acceptable way, especially among counsellor and prayer ministry types, of rubbishing a person and being angry and resentful towards them because you feel inadequate about the fact that, in spite of all your efforts and everything you have been taught to apply, they are stubbornly refusing to be helped (that is what is meant, even if it isn’t said).  I’m getting this language all the time in messages about unavailable sites, from Internet Explorer.  I’m wondering if other people are getting the same message when they can’t connect to a website?  Until I had my new disk installed and started getting the old, normal language messages, I thought everyone was getting what I just said, but for the first few days with my new disk I was not.  I think it had also gone back to saying a straightforward ‘reconnect’ instead of saying ‘try to reconnect’ which comes with the other rubbish and makes me feel, apart from stalked, inappropriately emotionally grabbed at.  First they are stalking me then putting out these therapy-talk, church-talk, emotional appeal messages instead of just saying ‘reconnect’.  No wonder people think I have a stonger relationship with my computer than with people.  To me it seems this is abusive at every level.  I constantly feel shock, fear and anger.  And also feeling harassed and all the guilt that goes with the way I handle it, I’m in no fit state to go out.  They play on the guilt and make it as prominent in my thinking as they can.  I was just thinking I had had a completely clear run on this paragraph, no browser crashes, but as soon as I went back a line or two and inserted something about guilt, connecting my mind and emotions in my communication, my browser crashed again.

I’ve just switched BBC World News back on, and Peter Dobby, immediately after hillary Clinton’s speech which was in progress as I switched on and my reason for switching on, said ‘she spacically’ instead of ‘she’s basically’.  2.50pm UK time.  I black guy has just come on with the sport, doing the same ‘I’m hardly in control of what I am saying’ verbal incontinence/half brain damaged impression, saying in a taunting tone, ‘it won’t be enough to’ something about the wicket (wicked, wiki, Wicca, wikileaks?  He didn’t say cricket anyway, which was what we should have got.  Causing shock to me releases some sort of wave of energy in the studio.  They have a breath reaction to every mental movementof mine.  They do it on purpose.  That’s what I mean, and his contemptuous face.  That’s what I mean by mixing violence and subliminality and stalking and psycholinguistics.  They are damaging more people than me.  They must face everything the law can throw at them for this, it isn’t sweet, it isn’t kind, it isn’t cute, it is evil.  Peter Dobby has just come back on and the first thing he did was say a word as if clearing his throat, contemptuously.  I don’t care, Tommy Boyd, how much you say media presentation has changed, this is extremely rude, unprofessional and abusive.  he just said a word to sound like masturbation, and he has followed it up with the word robust (as in bust) talking about Hillary Clinton.  Peter Dobby is a savage dog.  Something changed in a rhythm somewhere.  As soon as I started the sentence calling him a dog he stopped talking over the broadcast of William Hague, and exactly now he has just started again.  They are hacking my computer.  They are indecent.  I am a dalek.  I will exterminate.  Let me at him, the bastard.  They break me down like this on purpose, and if I hide it and pretend it hasn’t happened, they use it against me at a later date. This is desperate.  Help me, someone.  Not through the mental health system, but properly, through getting these people by law for what they are doing.  Peter Dobby has backed off now.  He’s done his damage, nowhe can just go silent and let me get on with losing it and being terrified of what he is doing and the way he is using what he knows to be my fears against me.  I know they are looking at this, I can imagine their reactions, they are indecent, and like being with instincts, I want to hit back.  Ben whatever his name is was just acting out in his speech action his words that people don’t have control. Bulgarian people talk like that a lot.  I think UK media people started copying that shortly after I came here.  My browser has just started multiple crashing again, before it did I said that Lyse Doucett had just spat the word ‘question’, which I have said before they often and deliberately say like ‘quistion’ to sound like ‘Christian’, I said it about Robert Elms the other day.

With an absolute poker face they get my attention with something intimate, then adopt an intimate tone saying something which sounds instructional as if they have a right to do that.  So when people say that people on the television and radio are talking to them, I believe that, unless they are lying, in many cases they are probably right, and it isn’t a delusion out of mental illness.

All this, in spite of the fact that I have asked them and given them permission to contact me through proper channels. They still insist on using these methods.  They are trying to maintain a speech rhythm, for some reason.  They are not communicating straight, and therefore they are not communicating honestly. They are sly, manipulative, crafty and criminal.  These are bad and evil people and what they are doing to us is criminal.  In fact, with all the verbal power plays I’ve seen and heard from everyone recently, I’d say they are paranoid and in complete chaos and out of control, and telling me to sit or lie down in the corner as if I am a dog.  Perhaps the most evil thing about them is that, as it will obviously suit them to do so, they will deny all knowledge of me and of everything I have said.  I haven’t published this yet.  Peter Dobby has just said a word to sound like ‘sly’.  And I haven’t put it out yet.  I can’t mend what he and his do to me emotionally, because they are supposed to be trustworthy and I’ve been conned and it’s destroyed my life, but I would be satisfied if I could get them legally.  He just said, ‘now it’s time for the finance news’ as if he was saying ‘I love you’, then there was a pregnant pause, and he came back with a slightly derisive sounding tone and said ‘we’ll get that in a minute’.  He just said ‘most’ like ‘must’.  I could let him do this to me for hours unless I stop him.  He’s savage.  He just talked about looking at something critically when I amended something at the top of my post to ‘read the paragraphs in bold’, and he did the verbal incontinence thing with a completely straight face.  I don’t want them doing this.  It’s torment.  Many of them are playing the verbal incontinence game.  I know they break me down on purpose, at important times, so no one will take any notice of anything serious and important and relevant that I have to say, after reading the results and consequences of what they do to me.  Give up, Peter Dobby.  I’m not going to give you or do what you want.  Unless all you want is the kick of knowing you are having an effect on me.  He’s just done the harshly emphasised ‘ah’ and ‘out’ thing they always do, along with the ‘back’ stuff’ and other things.  There is nothing wrong with me, Mr Dobby.  I don’t need what you are doing.  Respond to what you have been given.  Or are you and people like the government working together even though you give the impression, more often than not, of being deeply critical and at war with each other?  Is it really cosy behind the scenes and off the air?  When did the Cobra Committee come into existence?  I never noticed it until shortly after I thought that Sofia, the capital of Bulgaria, looks a bit like ‘Cobra’ in Cyrillics.  That was some time ago in the last 15 months.

My serious point: why does Hillary Clinto need to talk rhetorically about serious abuses, instead of just abuses?  Is she rabble rousing?  What is the difference between an abuse and a serious abuse, and what is the difference in the way they are treated.  Watch your answer, bearing in mind that out of little acorns, great oaks grow.  David Cameron sounded as if he just said mental, and smiled a secret smile (5.40 pm).  With the same affected little verbal incontinence.  Did he say that?  Something about the communication wasn’t straight.  He sounds very urgent.  Maybe it is as affected and illigitimate as the assumed intimacy.  What about human rights abuses at home, Ed and David?

They are so melifluous, as smooth as oil, these people, whatever they are talking about.  It seems to me they are being so smooth about Libya as to be dismissive of its importance and complexity.  But maybe it should be smooth and easy, talking about first steps.  I think David just deliberately shot an ‘um’.  They deliberately shoot a lot of words.  Including the istruction to ‘utter complete rubbish’ which was dressed to look like a derisive jibe.  He’s just adopted an exalted tone.

I think this is the kind of thing people like Peter Dobby are trying to make me believe they are ‘helping’ me with and to do.  I was just thinking about God and David Cameron just said ‘listen to the man and his experience’ and George Osborne started sniggering then strted looking a bit sheepish or miserable.  That is the sort of thing I was talking about when I talk about psychic targeting and spiritualism.  I just thought he might be picking up on the thoughts of my upstairs neighbour, who has just started moving around again.  At which point Peter Dobby broke in and cut it of, just after I had said I was thinking about God, and he said something emphatically about hearing something on ‘this channel’, and channelling is a psychic activity, as they know I know.  I think they are exploiting this information with the help of some very skilled writers, if not actually engaging in the spiritual activity.  But maybe that isn’t it.  Maybe I am just one of a whole group which is being targetted in this way.  Some are hurt and offended, some are flattered, and some don’t care or are unaware.

Nik Gowing is on.  He went straight for the sympathy muscle, which for me is the most direct way to guilt and feelings of responsibility.  I’ve got the sound down.  Nothing to react to.  As soon as I turned the sound down I felt as if I should go and apologise to my upstairs neighbour.  That’s how I know he went for my sympathy muscle.

Look at the state of this post!  I’ve had several ‘comments’ I haven’t published, in exactly the same state, and all of them, I think, are or are posturing as very detailed sex shop adverts.  I would not be surprised if I am deliberately driven to replicate that if I insist on continuing to write and make observations about what they are doing and saying while the sound is on.  I switched on yesterday and heard a female presenter talking about ‘weird behaviour’, talking about Gaddafi.  That is hardly dispassionate and is provocative.  It is crudely biassed, and they must know better than that.  Is their training that inadequate these days?  I’m not sure we can trust our country’s image and communications with these people.  Or impressionable minds.  An impressionable mind is one that is not set and formed.  The more knowledge you have, the less impressionable you are likely to be.  I’m not sure if what I think I know has any value at all, but I know that most people will not be at all aware of things like psycholinguistics and related subjects.  I know I only know a bit and if I knew more I might not have so much reason to feel as if I might be being ridiculous.  But I think it matters, adversely, when a presenter in a news agency talks about ‘weird behaviour’ in such a sensitive situation.  People who talk exactly like this are running our mental hospitals.  It is little wonder that people who are already broken down and feel abused and assaulted by the system and its keepers sometimes turn to violence.  People outside of the mental health system are no different.  Politicians call it declaring war, or something like that.  They don’t do it one on one.  They get armies of people taught to see the forces as an opportunity to learn a skill and see the world to do and die for them. They would have us believe, for us.  I’m not coming.  War party, me no wanna go.

I keep seeing politicians crying into the camera, early in my time here in Bulgaria, when the police stopped me twice in two days from coming home.  That is a very strong sympathy muscle action.  I know they must have wanted to do me some good and help in some way.  I feel I should always trust and honour politicians like that, because they will always be right, their hearts will always be right, and at the very least mine is wrong if I don’t obey authority.  Surely a politician in tears is someone to be trusted, even if they are breaking all the rules about open and legally accountable communication?  The fact that they seemed to think it was necessary to communicate in that way has perhaps made me more afraid and stupid here in Bulgaria than I have needed to be.  Unless there is a real danger for me, and maybe because of me, for my country, here.  If so, why have they backed off, why isn’t my Embassy being responsive to me?  Do I yield here, and post it as is, as I want to?  No, I don’t.  Because if I yield they command from 2000 miles away using illegitimate intimacy, or they drag the game out just a little bit more, robbing me of any feelings of having tried to do the right thing and of self-worth that I have left.  The Consul’s name is Jon O’Shaughnessy.  For over a week now I have received no response from him or his team about anything I have said to them.  They have humiliated both themselves and me.  I went to them absolutely openly and legally with everything they needed to know, and they started coaxing me without committing to making me feel safe at the other end from the mental health authorities and others.  I’m afraid to come home. When I say that they emphasise that I am free, in the same coded way, but I reesnt the mode of communication and I am basically afraid of coercive arrest with intimidation at the airport on criminal or mental health grounds, even though I have tried to pursue things through both the police and the IPCC systems without response, over months.  I wish Hillary Clinton woiuld get off my screen.  She’s using the same stuff.  She’s dumbshowing in the same way.  I think she has made it clear that she knows Jean Darnall, or at least of her.  I thought it meant that Jean has relationship and input into US gvernment, but perhaps it doesn’t.  Mrs Clinton came out on several occasions that were important in my life and communication, looking the image of Jean in everything about her.  Her face, her walk, and everything.

As for me being a criminal, the police here have told me that I am not a wanted person here in Bulgaria, otherwise they would know, they said.  I asked them when I had to report my passport missing.  I’ve had no communication from the police at all, for months.  I try to avoid situations where people have involved them before, some of those situations the police have apologised to me for.

I’ve just had a thought.  Lyse Doucett.  I looked at the name and gradually made a connection between it and the song that goes, ‘tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies’.  ‘Douce’ is the French for ‘sweet’.  Is this supposed to be helpful?  Who are they treating as if they need to be held down and forced to tell the truth?  Isn’t this just dishonorable and underhand, whoever does it?  If this is the basis of power relationships, it’s madness.  It’s madness.  They’ve gone off into morality play and fairy tale land.  These people responsible for our lives and well being.  They don’t know how to do it straight.  It’s lunacy.  And they call the rest of us lunatics, or whatever else injurious they can beat us and injure us with.  If they have not lost touch with reality and if they are not bombarding us with unreality, what is the situation?  Is this how they call on a higher morality in a world where people are not legally obliged to help people or slippery if they are, and where lying is not a crime?  I think this is abusive.  I think they are psychologically doping us, and maybe that isn’t the motive, but it is still the outcome.  The word is not the reality unless the reality it represents is upheld by law.  You can’t forsake the reality and criminalise people for intolerance or harassment or whatever, or call them mentally ill for holding to the reality, and hold on to the power of the words that uphold the reality you have forsaken and despise in practice.  Not unless you are crazy, deceitful or trying to impose an agenda using the definitions of the reality you want to invalidate, and along with the reality, everyone who values it.

6.04 pm  Lyse Doucett has just hit me with a very forceful mention of Jeremy Bowen, then she mentioned it a second time, softening it and softening and twinkiling into it, which always makes me feel guilty for having found fault with it in the first place, and as I am feeling exposed and guilty, they go straight into a politically sensitive interview.  They do this all the time.  It is a spititual block or a spiritual tap, it probably has different intended functions at different times.  I had a teacher at school called Bowen.  Surely I don’t need to say more.  They are moralising at me. They have no right.

I just heard David Cameron’s speech repeated, and I thought he didn’t even care.  not really.  he was talking about not letting regimes attack their own people with military force, but in our country even the police, at demonstrations, without military aid, kill and seriously injure people.

I watched Hillary Clinton again as well.  I got the impression she was deliberately acting out a ‘street’ persona.  Really.  I was so convinced I was horrified at what I believed to be reality.  Why would she be deceiving us in that way?

Ben whatever his name is is on.  I was just wondering why the news presenters deliberately and routinely, while they are talking, look over momentarily to the side, as if trying to stop something that comes into their minds from breaking their focus about what they want to say.  If they say it is just so they won’t worry about whether or not they have turned the gas off, I won’t believe them. Lyse Doucett just did that.  While I was wondering about it light dawned and joy showed on Ben Brown’s face, and he flashed his eyes over to the side, as if communicating it had been picked up, and then he twisted his mouth, almost like an occult control on mine.  That is how I interpreted it.  Straight after Peter Dobby came on talking about ‘focus’, then he questioned Jeremy Bowen and said ‘what did he say?’, and the lift in his voice towards the end struck me as full of false innocence.  It’s almost like a pub chat, over Libya.  That is disgusting.  Why are they pitching to the pub?  Why are they trying to make me feel, as long as I watch them and listen to them, that I am either in a brothel or a pub?  The squawking voices are all wrong.  The deliberate squawk, they all do it.  They are going for our ability to think straight and independently.  It grates, and it makes people stupid.  I heard a few years ago, that the process of thinking involves your vocal cords and your tongue.  I believe this, and I believe our thinking processes are under attack.  While I was writing this, Peter Dobby twisted a word, deliberately, and markedly and deliberately sped up his speaking.

Is Peter Dobby a witch?  Which came first, Dobby the house elf in Harry Potter, or Peter Dobby the news reader?  And why the doubling up?  I am sure the mental connection is being used to full effect.  Tanya Beckett has got her ‘you naughty girl’ voice on.

I just looked at my aol email account, before 6pm.  On the ‘today’ section, they are running an article about error messages on computers, and are showing the ‘fatal error’ message.  They’ve been doing this sort of thing to me for years.  Is it supposed to be funny, or menacing, or what?  Are any of those considerations more important than or as important as the question, ‘should they be doing it at all?’?  If they know enough to stalk me with that, they also know I am and have been afraid for my safety, there is nothing funny about this, it could, conceivably, be a message to someone other than me, and for me psychologically it is an incitement to violence in retaliation (or at least to fall apart with impotent anger), and it might be a literal incitement and instruction to violence to someone else.  It could beI struggled for the word ‘impotently’, I couldn’t remember it, and as I was getting hold of it, Tanya Beckett’s eyes sort of widened and she suddenly went into a jerk forward on a word followed by a jerk back.  She followed it up with a chavvy accent (reminds me of ChavvyVicky, the psychiatric nurse in Croydon with cats that became a problem at the same time I said something problematic.  She was a character or caller on the Clive Bull Show on LBC.  That was also meant to offend, I believe.  I don’t know what I believe, they are so psychologically violent in their presentation.  After Tanya Beckett’s Chavvy act, she started doing ‘look, I’m a squeaky girl’ modulations with her voice, and I was thinking, ‘what are you on with, then I remembered i was looking at an actress, and admired her ‘as an actress’, and she looked triumphant, but she is supposed to be dealing truthfully and straight with fact.  But the jerking backwards and forwards, at that time.  There is definitely something going on there, occultically.  Lady blonde porcelain has gone back into her dominatrix act, and when I let a sound out of my own mouth to challenge what is happening, the people upstairs bang on my ceiling, even if all I do is let out a sung note.  This is in Plovdiv.  All of these people, media, neighbours, are savage and evil.  yes they are.  it is criminal.  They like to tell you people who say things like this are mentally ill and dangerous.  They like to run stories about people who kill their neighbours or their social workers or their nurses or anyone because they believe they are evil.  This is evil.  You have no right to do this, and you have no right to do it to me.  First you provoke people, then you punish them for reacting.  I’ve called Lady porcelain before.  As soon as I can remember her name, as soon as I see or hear it again, I’m going to call it again.  YOU ARE MURDEROUS, MANIPULATIVE, HATEFUL, SO AMBITIOUS YOU DON’T CARE WHO YOU DESTROY AND ABUSE, AND YOU ARE THE EMBODIMENT OF EVIL, AND SUPPORT AND AFFIRM OR ALLOW FREE REIN TO PEOPLE LIKE YOU.  YOU ARE THE EMBODIMENT OF EVIL.  YOU KNOW WHAT YOU ARE DOING.  AND YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE PUBLIC’S PERCEPTION OF REALITY.  I just looked at Lyse.  She is obviously enjoying something very much.  I think they are deliberately tapping into my neighbours, and using us against each other.  I was taught at church there is no such ting as white witchcraft.  But this isn’t white.  This is obvious, psychologically violent, evil.  This is the blackest of black magic and satanism.  You have no right to be gunning for people like this.   They start coming down seconds after I start coming down.  It’s theft.

Hillary Clinton is continually having a go at me.  She is saying things about Gaddafi that I believe people say about me, about decency, isolating, taking money, etc.  The people upstairs keep getting off on my tv, and bang if I sing.  I just swtiched it off, and the man upstairs has gone for a pointed pee.  He has done that before.  I just shouted up to them, asking who is paying them.

If Hillary Clinton is having a go at me, or messing around with lumping people together linguistically and psychologically, she should be ashamed of herself.  I feel molested by what the man upstairs has just done.  Just as I do by his violent banging and their other invasiveness.  But if Hillary Clinton is messing with me, she should be ashamed of herself, if she loves her husband.  I was in hospital when he was in court.  I felt really sorry for him. I did my best to watch and listen to as much as I could, but in hospital it was difficult, people kept talking over it, they weren’t really interested.  But I was.  I really felt for him.  I’m afraid I can’t remember if I felt for the whole family or not.  I don’t know why I felt for him, or why I have felt for other national leaders in the past.  My first awareness of tragedy involving a national leader was when J F Kennedy was shot.  I was two days short of 3 years old.  If I don’t remember anything about it from earlier that day, I definitely remember watching and hearing about it on News at Ten on ITV.  People keep stealing my feelings from me now, about other people and about myself, but then I felt very grave and heavy about it.  I felt the same way for Richard Nixon as well.  I went to a prayer meeting at Talbot Street, I can’t have been more than 13, and everyone was thanking God, I seem to remember, that corruption had been exposed.  I feel like crying thinking about it, even now.  I wanted to pray for him, maybe for his family, but I didn’t.  I wanted to so much, but no one else was praying the same way.  I wanted to pray for Richard Nixon.  Almost like a child for a father.  I suppose I feel a bonding to him because of that even now.  I wonder if anything would have been different for him if I had prayed for him, out loud in the meeting?  I told one person, the person who drove me home afterwards.  I think I did, anyway.  Maybe I wasn’t specific about the situation.

In England, we have our own human rights atrocities. Gaddafi was saying today that his people love him, and some of them obviously do, they have made it clear.  But the people ‘interviewing’ him were talking to him as if he was a mental patient and they were rather contemptuous psychiatric staff.  If I had the strength of voice I would say, ‘not in my name’.  That is shameful.  How long have they been doing this to him?  How long, behind closed doors, after the embraces for the cameras?  Why should I listen to my own country’s propaganda any more than theirs? Would my country care about them, if it were not for the oil supply?  There are other countries they don’t care about, aren’t there? So if this isn’t about oil, what is it about?  I suppose it will be a committee decision, so there will be no clear answers and no definitive reason.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They are so violent, they make me feel violent.  I know I speak for many.  Some people, as we know, act it out.  The full extent of my acting out is yelling, which is always misguided, because people continue without regard, and really I’m the only person that gets hurt.  I’m on my own and, because people involved professionally refuse to communicate with me constantly feeling not quite secure.  At least these people have their families, the partner or the gang they go around in.

But I’m glad I said what I said yesterday.  Now, if it wasn’t the case before, what they do will be more obvious to some people than it was.

I was just thinking, they use strings of names and references from my life and adopt a tone of entitlement to do it, as if they are doing it in co-operation with the people concerned, and that is where many of my guilt feelings come from when I don’t respond.

Today there was a little string – Mardi Fish – a tennis player, but also we say mardy in Nottingham to talk about people grizzling and crying and being miserable, and that was immediately followed up by the names Adams and Baddeley, two male teachers from my secondary school in Nottingham.

With some of the details they sometimes use, it appears that they are working in co-operation with people from my school life, whoever they are.  This little string was in the sports report.

When all this started for me the church, or at least Kensington Temple, was talking a lot about witchcraft, and I thought they meant me.  Maybe they didn’t, but I thought they did.  That’s why I was so upset, partly.  At the same time there was a tennis player called Goran Ivanisovich.  Sounds like ‘even he’s a witch’.  I heard a radio presenter say that much later, and I had thought it myself when I first heard it, in hospital, and it freaked me.

By the way, I’m still talking about BBC World News.  The time now is 11.08, UK time, which is the time people will need if they want to check this out, if they can get access to the tapes.

I don’t want to play this game with them and I don’t want to validate it.  I have been desperate enough myself.  There are others who are made even more desperate by it, if that is possible.

I saw a rcorded TV programme recently, it might have been in the “How Television Has Ruined Your life’ series on the BBC.  Whatever it was, the presenter was saying that the media uses shock tactics to keep people watching, because people are psychologically wired to give their attention to what appears to be a threat to their safety.

Charlie Wolf, when he was on Talksport, used to say he was pleased if people hated him because that meant they would keep listening. That is still how they do it, on a really wide scale.  But mixed with stalking, and obviously it becomes sinister and lethal, sometimes literally lethal.  They set out to sound violent or otherwise objectionable.  For me I find there is an element of not quite being able to believe what I am hearing or seeing, and a landing place of satisfaction is carefully avoided, so you can’t quite disengage.  Sometimes they make you feel as if you should and that they think you should, but I think it is a double bluff trick.

Just now as I was thinking clearly to write this, the presenter said he just wanted to take us back, almost in a hypnotherapy tone.  I can remember when this approach was first adopted and perpetrated.  There was a deliberate decision made, a few years ago, to adopt the language and intonation of therapy.

He just used ‘tweet’ as in Twitter, which I find always coincides with any fluency of thinking close to speech that I feel.  He just talked down from it to a stop.  Another dissonance, another contradiction.  I find it offensive. maybe it’s just me.  And I am sure there must be some sort of spiritualism involved for this to be happening.

Maybe it is just the violence of the shouting.  Now the presenter of the World Business Report is doing it.  It sounds obviously put on.

The news presenter before him – I think his name is Adam – was saying something about ‘you don’t have to be called Aron to work here, but it helps’, and he said it in such a way I thought and am sure he was referring to the time that I told Tommy Boyd, in his car, that I thought what he had said was arrogant.  He said he had a lot to be arrogant about.  Maybe we have a different understanding of the word, because i think it is a negative trait and he appeared not to.

Aron is back with the sports report, 11.45 am UK time.  He has just mentioned James Pearce.  My form teacher at the school I just mentioned in connection with the other names was called Clive Pearce.  I remember him to have been a very nice and kind person.  Straight after James pearce was mentioned Aron started talking in accented sympathetic and sad tones about people now being in danger of not qualifying.  The weather girl just appeared to stutter with the word ‘mock’.

But they keep going.  They make you feel stupid for saying it, or they look so hurt they make you feel guilty.

David Edes is on.  he was stressing for the first time that i have heard, that his programme is about opinion as well as news.  I thought he was getting at me.  At the same time they showed a report with footage about Guantanamo Bay, and the blocks didn’t look too bad and a staff member was saying conditions are much better, but there were blocks we couldn’t see for security reasons.

There must be something wrong in my head, or in the presentation, or something, because I was thinking it didn’t look too bad and Julian Assange might be OK there.  If I’m that broken down that I’m thinking that I think there must be a lot wrong on a lot of levels.  David Edes is sounding strict and disciplinarian.  I’m not sure who his tone is aimed at or what it is meant to achieve.

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.

https://suebarnett.wordpress.com/2011/01/08/i-followed-a-search/

This is a link to a post I wrote a while ago, about something called Monarch Mind Control.  I refer you to it to help you understand the rest of this post.  Included in that post is a link to an interview on Youtube between two very high profile people in America, one of whom was a special agent in charge of a police department.

The issue of Monarch Mind Control has come up for me again after watching the House of Commons broadcast yesterday. 

I have said before that I have been accused of paedophilia, although I am not a paedophile.  Yesterday Theresa May was talking about changes and appeals processes, and even before she got up to speak I was thinking that what had gone before seemed to be adopting a popularist stance.  I noticed that Nick Clegg was close to tears, and I noticed that, as in so many times in the past, David Cameron came in focusing and shutting everything out and down as much as he was able, and when I see that I find it frightening.  That the Prime Minister needs to focus in that way, in Parliament, before his electorate.  I feel that saying this could be to my harm and embarrassment, because it occurs to me in writing that he might have my safety and welfare in mind, at least in part.

Speaking of popularism, listening to Theresa May I believed she was doing the same thing, going for a projected popularist view.  The reason I say ‘projected’ is that I believe most of us are far more human and compassionate in our approach to this issue, especially those of us who have the slightest hint of understanding of the psychology of abuse, which should be most of us.  She presented herself as speaking for all right minded people, but as far as I am concerned she was appealing to the vigilante element of society, and her approach to the subject was in line with that.  She said that the judges who insisted that the human rights and privacy of people tagged and hated in this way were paramount were out of touch with the rest of us.  I, obviously, disagree.  She also said that the final decision in the appeals process on this issue was not for the courts, but for the police who, she said, were best placed to make this decision as being in touch.  That frightened me and I started thinking in terms of a police state.  Clearly I am speaking with heavy sarcasm and irony when I say that of course the police have always been squeaky clean and whiter than white and perfect models of humanity who have never harmed anyone and never acted with prejudice and never perverted the course of justice and never set anyone up or bullied anyone or consented to their bullying.  These are obviously the best people to handle such a sensitive issue (sarcasm and irony maintained).  I believe I have an idea of how long they were holding this accusation against me before I even knew about it, and how long they stood by, in spite of my complaints of harassment, and let people get on with it. That also goes for my housing association and the mental health authorities.

The issue of Monarch Mind Control came up for me again because there was something I didn’t understand about the presentation.  Then I remembered the interview in the post I have provided the link for, where the woman being interviewed said that, as far as she knew, it went back as far as her father.

I know, I am painfully aware, that this could be complete coincidence, but the dress she was wearing was identical in style and colours to a coat my father bought me when I was little. I can’t remember how old I actually was, but he died when I was 11.  He overdosed on sleeping tablets.  I don’t know if it was his intention to die, he didn’t say in his note, and he had done the same thing before and survived.

But Theresa May’s dress was almost identical.  And she was standing there adopting an almost vigilante attitude towards sex offenders, dripping with hate, contempt and loathing, it seemed to me, and saying how devious they are (they say the same about people they call mentally ill, it is or was part of the training for mental health professionals to view mental health patients as devious), downplaying if not completely invalidating the role of the courts over this issue, saying that parliament makes the laws, not the courts (but I say the courts uphold the law and no one is exempt from the law, including parliamentarians, as we have seen, thankfully, but if they are able to invalidate the courts, and cut us off, as Europeans, from the European Court of Human Rights, which they are saying they want to do [whether or not that is just a decoy talking point without teeth to distract from more important issues we are not talking about I don’t know, it’s one of the things they’ve always managed to talk about for years], how are they going to be held accountable?).  These lovely parliamentarians, calling groups devious and inciting hatred against them, you would think they had never done a devious thing in their lives, except me thinks the lady doth protest too much.

If the coat and the dress are not a coincidence but deliberate, why? I’ve already contacted people and asked to talk and not been acknowledged, so why would they want to do something like that?  They teamed it all up, as well, with talk about mental health.  It doesn’t matter what they are trying to say, when someone has already asked for assistance they shouldn’t be using those methods.  And if it was deliberate and they have known all along, then presumably it has been handed down to them over the years, and the government or whoever it was that had this knowledge that has been used in this way stood by and watched my father, with all his personal pain and inadequacy and lack of access to this kind of mass communication tool, insist that this was happening to him and being treated as mentally ill and in the end killing himself.  My dad.  My daddy, as I called him at the time and still think of him.  11 years old.  A younger brother and sister as well.  Whatever kind of person he was, it was wrong for something like this to be done to him and to me and to our family.  It is just as wrong for it to continue.  That is what I believe.  The one question I am afraid of is, ‘am I right?’  Am I right to believe this is wrong?  It might be good, kind governmental wisdom, and it might be better for me to go with it.  That is how I feel.

They were laughing a lot yesterday, which seemed to me completely inappropriate when handling such a serious and painful issue, but which also made me feel as if the arms of love and acceptance were being opened and offered to me, and a place of refuge, safety and protection and reconciliation.

I’m vulnerable to this kind of approach, at this particular point, because I had a bad experience in hospital last week when I was taken ill with severe stress related symptoms.  I was later contacted by the British Embassy and asked to confirm that I was OK, and I recounted the experience and everything involved in the stress that brought it on and asked for a reply, but I didn’t get one.  That was on Friday.  I want to say the Consul’s name, but people talk about discretion, and say if you are indiscrete and other people involved with you know that, they will not trust you.  I don’t know if, in my situation, discretion should be demanded of me or not.  What about me and my ability to trust?  But I don’t think officials should be subjected to vigilantism any more than anyone else should.  But this has gone so far, and I can’t afford legal representation, but I’m afraid if I mention his name on this forum anyway it might disqualify me for future help, either from the embassy’s own complaints procedure or from the law.  I don’t know what to do, because they themselves are acting illegally, it seems to me, and certainly if I don’t say his name the opportunity to move in on me again might be used.  It’s not a personal thing, I like him, at least to some extent, it’s about my own security in this situation.  I don’t know how to protect myself other than by naming him, but if I do that also might go against me, maybe even more long term.  I don’t know how it works.

On Monday (St Valentine’s Day) my housing association contacted me.  My housing association has often decided not to answer my emails and to set things in motion without consulting with me to have me apprehended under the mental health act.  The people who turn up unannounced often look appalled and apprehensive about me, and also are often very aggressive and insistent in their approach, and have even been violent and scathing, without me even knowing the specifics of why they are there.  So I replied to this person, my housing officer, Andy Minett at Hexagon Housing Association in Sydenham, made my position clear, reminded him of how he had handled things in the past and had often seen fit not to answer my emails but to go behind my back and over my head and not help effectively with community bullying and harassment, and I asked him not to resort to force or coersion but to inform me of his intentions because I believe I have a legal right to be informed.  I aksed him to clarify a few things, and as yet neither he nor anyone else from the housing association has contacted me.  Also, while I think of it, I have copied my emails on to the mental health team at Speedwell in Deptford, and they also do not acknowledge my emails, and I am afraid they are standing by and trying to force a crisis.  I asked for a response to one of them, through my CPN, from my psychiatrist, and although the CPN, Susan Farmer, said she had passed the email on to him, I have never received a response.

In this situation, and with these two most recent emails unacknowledged, on Tuesday evening someone rang my doorbell from downstairs and said what sounded like an Italianisation of my name.  I immediately thought it was the police and I was frightened, and I told him I spoke English and didn’t understand him, which was over all the truth, although not the issue for me at the time.  He said ‘OK’, and went, and I haven’t heard anything since.  But I was frightened and still am.  He came unannounced and unexpected, I didn’t know who had sent him or why, and I don’t think it should have happened that way.  I think that is really wrong. I’m afraid they might come back with instructions to arrest me under the mental health act.  But whose unprofessionalism and negligence is creating my fear and stress in the first place?  I think I could and can say ‘whose secrecy?’ and not be wrong in this case.

I’m tired now.  I might add more later, but right now if there was somewhere else I intended to go with this or something else I intended to say, I can’t remember.

Intermediate edit note: I’m recording Premier, and at the beginning John Pantry played a song called ‘Everything Was Done So You Would Come’, and he back announced it with tears in his voice.  He then moved on immediately to pray a prayer which sounded to me, in this context, as if he was instructing decision makers on how to pray and how to feel and how to view what they have done.  I obviously might be wrong, but it isn’t my opinion that I am, and if I am right I still think they are wrong to be doing this.  I still maintain it is stalking.  And I still maintain it is deceiving most of their audience.

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