Tag Archive: St Barnabas Church


Nightmares

I had a nightmare last night about John Coles and John Knight.  John Coles was the vicar at St Barnabas, Woodside Park, North Finchley and John Knight was one of his wardens.  John Coles is now someone in St Paul’s Cathedral.  I had a very unhappy time at St Barnabas.  Near the end it came out that John and Anne Coles thought I had tried to harm their marriage.  They never moved from that, they made me very distressed and unhappy.  I wrote them some ill-advised letters, and we were all unhappy, but they refused to acknowledge that there was any problem at first.  I kept saying I was sorry I had hurt them, they kept saying I hadn’t hurt them, so in the end I decided enough was enough and that if they were saying I hadn’t hurt them I no longer had any responsibility for trying to make amends, but when Anne told me that I had tried to harm their marriage I suppose that made it obvious that they thought I had hurt them.  When people prayed for me John Knight used to pull them away.  They set about isolating me.  They said some really hurtful and harmful things to me and I was beside myself with pain and anger.  In the end they told me I couldn’t take communion anymore, because they said I wasn’t walking in love.  I went forward and John Coles just walked past me without even offering a blessing.  There is nothing to say anymore.  I wish there was.  At the very end they even wanted to control where I was allowed to sit, first telling me I had to sit at the back on the right, then telling me I had to sit at the back on the left, and calling the police on me because I refused to sit in the seat they showed me to and moved forward a bit.  They told me I had a choice, to sit in the seat they led me to, to leave, or have them call the police.  I started calling out to John Coles saying it was harassment, and they called the police.  The police took me out and wouldn’t let me go back in.

I’m self conscious about writing this because some of the nurses at Broomhill House read my blog.  If I name names people in other places have got heavy on me, talking about a care plan in relation to my blog.  No photos or recordings are allowed here.  Another waking nightmare is that I’m going to be here for ages and I won’t be rehoused.  Another is that anything they offer me will be really small and not have a garden.  I had a garden in London and was just beginning to enjoy it, in latter days.

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It’s Not My Fault

Actually, that’s not how I think.  I have what I believe to be a really unhelpful habit of looking back and blaming myself for so many things.  The way I think, it sometimes seems as if I must hate my younger self.  I feel as if I can see that I was totally wrong.  There are people who would rejoice in that, people who have already told me it is all my fault and take no responsibility for the inhumanity of their own words and actions towards me.  Some church people have been so strict and confrontational with me you wouldn’t know it was church people you were dealing with.  Those people, according to what has been said to me, still don’t want anything to do with me and are insistent that I stay away from them.  The Shearmans, the Coleses, are only two examples.  At the Christian Centre, Nottingham, one of the pastoral staff told me I was welcome to come to church but that I had frightened the Shearmans with silent calls about 16-17 years ago and I was to stay away from them. First of all they and their staff had frightened and angered me, and I was just being frightened, angry and confused OCD with my first ever mobile phone.  I’m sorry that I frightened them but they and their staff had also frightened and offended me.  They were targeting me from the platform.  I know this because one day one of them approached me and told me to leave because I wasn’t doing what I was being told to do.  As I remember it it was only coming from the platform, they weren’t talking to me otherwise.  And I think what the Coleses and their staff did to me was really nasty.  I was angry without any sign of violence, and it seems they have such an exalted idea of their position that they thought it was OK to pronounce sickness over me.  That was Moira Knight, one of their trusted few, in John Coles’s presence.  He didn’t say she was wrong.  I couldn’t believe what she had said to me, and it exploded in my mind how far they were prepared to go to resist me and keep me under.  It was a very effective double bind, which R D Laing said was operational in a lot of people called schizophrenic.

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