Tag Archive: stalking


I posted the following on Premier Christian Radio’s Facebook page about an hour ago, and it was removed.  I usually take copies of what I post and email them to myself, so I am able to post this to my blog.  I’ve added a couple of little bits but it is basically the same.

I have known and said for ages that Premier Radio, among other media organisations, including Church, like Kensington Temple, where I spent some time over 20 years ago, is stalking me, somehow. I have suspected computer hacking, among other things. They keep pressing my emotional buttons, putting snippets together from my life, appearing to appeal to me in some way, while never making committed contact or answering the emails that I have sent them. I’m not bombarding them, as they are me. Over the last few years I might have sent 5.

A little while ago I was searching Amazon for some books on the Sufi poet Rumi and came across a book written by someone called John Baldock. I took a closer look because I used to have a youth group leader at St Matthew’s Church in Bestwood, Nottingham by that name. He went to a theological college, that is the last I knew of him. it wasn’t him, it was someone else. But either last week or the week before on Inspirational Breakfast both St Matthew’s Church and John Baldock were mentioned in close proximity, and this is only one of many such incidents. It is making me sick, literally. I didn’t do anything with that book, I just looked at the information to see if it was him and it wasn’t. So how did Premier get this information?

Last week they were saying something about security and all working together in a way which made me think that lots of organisations are involved in an effort towards me, short of making proper legally recognised contact, as if THAT might cause a security breach? On my blog I used to write a lot about accidents and people being killed, which seemed to be coming thick and fast, that had some resonance in my life, in terms of similar or same names, places, lots of different references. I live in Nottingham now, I lived most of my life from 19 in London. Mark Aldridge at New Wine used to be assistant vicar to John Coles at St Barnabas Church. Mark was featured on a New Wine video a few months ago. On the local news on ITV the other day a newsreader called Sameena Ali Khan seemed to me to be close to tears as she reported a story of someone being killed and the name Aldridge was involved. I think there was another killing related close to that story in the same new programme and the names Wood something and Bar or Bart something came up. My last name is Barnett and there have been ‘Woods’ in my life, I thought of several but the only one I can remember now is Woodside Park, where St Barnabas Church is.

The thing I’ve always said is that I won’t validate this kind of stalking by media or Church or government organisations that won’t actually communicate with me normally. What they are doing is INCREDIBLY distressing and personally undermining, when I’m not drawing false comfort from it. I have a diagnosis of schizophrenia. I didn’t have it when I was first admitted to hospital in 1996, I don’t know when that diagnosis was settled on, I’ve had several. They say the fact I think this is happening to me is evidence of mental illness. I have said that over and over to many of the people doing this to me, and they cynically persist while pushing a mental health agenda. It is nothing short of torture, and cowardice, and I think if, for some reason, it isn’t recognised as criminal, it should be. Today, I feel really ill, weak and sick. I feel so isolated, my whole community is up in arms, I get really frightened. But the media keeps putting out this narrowcasting at me and I’m supposed to respond? It seems to me they are trying to cover something, get out of something, not have to deal with the consequences and ALL the implications of the situation by appealing to me as if I am suddenly an exception and someone special who can help them. They make ME feel as if I am perversely refusing to accept a responsibility which is being put to me and offered as grace, mercy and an honour.  My problem is that I believe we are responsible for what we know, and I feel as if that has been played on.  But today I thought that, if what I know is being thrust on me in an under the radar way which is not legally accountable, even though it makes me feel responsible, in truth I am not and must not try to be or think I should be.  I really believe it is for them to make committed contact with me.

There have been a couple of bombings close to my emotional and activity related home as well, including Manchester, recently, on 2 counts – it was the 45th anniversary of my father’s suicide, and I used to share a house with someone from Manchester who has figured in my situation as it is at the moment. Premier, and others, should not be doing this to me. It is a violation of my human rights and manipulative and an invalidation of me as a person. Will someone please listen to me? They should not be holding me in this situation, as they have now for 20 years or more. I really need help. I daren’t go to the police, they have treated me really badly in the past, I have a difficult relationship with them, and they also would uphold the mental health approach. And for obvious reasons I can’t push it with the mental health authorities, either, unless I want to find myself back on drugs or in hospital. And my immediate neighbours are making themselves impossible to live with since it started affecting them. My housing patch manager has been involved, the last email I had from her threatened me with a mental health assessment, in spite of the fact I have told her absolutely everything about the situation with my neighbours months ago. That was last Friday. I wrote back to her saying why I thought she shouldn’t and have asked her to clarify her intentions, and she has left me hanging ever since last Friday, not a word from anyone at the council. I have a psychologist appointment today that I don’t really want to go to, I feel as if I am going at gunpoint. I don’t want to go because I don’t think he will talk about any of this stuff. In spite of the book he wrote that made me think he might be helpful, he is really evasive and won’t touch it. He argues with me instead, tells me why he thinks it’s not happening. Makes his feelings about the way I sometimes react my problem, a relationship issue.

I don’t expect anyone to respect me for posting this.  I have sent emails to John.Pantry@premier.org.uk before, and to the station’s director, Peter Kerridge, years ago.  In the end I gave up, they never answered.  This one hasn’t been answered either.  If I were a faithful person I would wait for someone to contact me, trusting this has been passed on and is being dealt with.  Everyone knows, however, that I am not a faithful person.  I expect all my leaders and teachers to disapprove of what I am doing, and I also fear I might get myself killed or something, or that I will be put back in hospital, posting this.  My neighbour and his group are still confusing me, reacting to everything I’m doing all the time.  I feel like a dead body that the vultures are feeding on.

I have written before, years ago, about the times I urinated on the Church steps.  They keep brandishing it, as I say in my email, and stabbing at me with it.  It’s not only one or two, it’s all of them, but an example I can point you to is Rosie Wright this morning on Inspirational Breakfast, just before she started talking to people about the election result.  That’s what I think, anyway.  She said ‘we’ in a certain way, followed up by ‘been’.  I suppose her defence will be, if she feels she needs to give one, that it can’t be proved.  I found the way people were talking afterwards interesting, though.  It sounded not quite normal to me.  The copy of the email follows this long account of events leading up to the church steps event.

At the time this happened it was during the Toronto Blessing phenomenon in Church.  Often, when I was at my most vulnerable and open, the Church warden at St Barnabas in Finchley, John Knight, at the time, would rattle keys near me, which frightened me because I always thought it meant I had to get up because he wanted to lock up.  I don’t remember anyone ever having come to me to pray for me, though I think that is what they did with other people.  I was always thrown out into the street, blasted wide open and disorientated.  Sometimes I hung around outside the building, into the night, afraid to leave the vicinity, feeling as if part of me was stuck inside and I couldn’t go home without it.  When I did go home I was in a complete state all the way.

John Coles, the vicar at the time, did a series on Nehemiah once, a chapter a week.  I would turn up, unprepared, not having read the chapter (we weren’t expected to), and feel as if I was being dragged around all over the place.  So one day I decided to take control of and responsibility for my experience and read the chapter ahead of time so I might be more prepared.  He looked at me sitting in the congregation and said ‘the enemy reads ahead’.  I felt completely damned and didn’t know how to handle it.  To me, he had said it, that was that.  The same night I went forward and was lying on the steps to the platform and my legs started to shake vigorously and uncontrollably for several minutes.  No one came near me.  I went back the next week feeling wiped out.  Someone said shaking was a sign of judgment.  During the time that followed the service where the Holy Spirit was invited I was lying tired and exhausted on the floor and when i opened my eyes to get up I found that John Coles was lying at my feet.  I didn’t know what to do with it.  I got up and sat on a chair and talking with one of the other guys about my age at the time I just told him I felt sick.  Sometimes I wouldn’t get involved with the Holy Spirit paddling pool at the end, I would sit it out, because I thought I owed John and Anne something and had no right to try and get involved with the blessing time at the end.  I think they might have thought I was somehow resisting and disapproving, but I wasn’t, I was trying to show them honour and respect by not indulging myself in a ministry time while I thought things weren’t good between us.

I had previously asked John and his wife to forgive me for any hurt I had caused them, and as they had before, they said I hadn’t hurt them, but that there was no relationship.  So this time, instead of letting myself get all upset about it, I accepted it, deciding they couldn’t have a relationship with everyone, and I could just sit in the congregation and listen and try and be supportive in the best way I knew.  They weren’t happy with this either.  They seemed to be unhappy that I had accepted what they had said without contesting it.  If he looked at me in the congregation I would smile.  That was it.  he started trying to turn things around, get a different sort of response from me.  To get away from the pressure I started going to some other churches mid-week (I believed this was the right thing to do based on something I had read in the book the counsellors I had seen had asked me to read, saying you should shift your attention elsewhere), and they put pressure on me, too.  I had recently been introduced to the concept of boundaries by some counsellors I was told to see by a pastor connected to a Bible college I used to go to after I told him I kept feeling I needed to kneel to him but didn’t dare, and he picked a fight with me over it, saying on no account must I kneel to him.  He seemed to be teasing and taunting me at the end of services as he finished his sermons, saying ‘I’m going to the back now’ and things like that, and I was sitting there really upset, though I didn’t make a scene or anything.  He discussed it with other people involved in running the college and they decided I shouldn’t even be allowed into the building if that was what I wanted to do.  So I ended up with these counsellors, a man and wife, and she dropped out after a week or two, and the man saw me with another woman sitting in, and he used to pray really rigid prayers about what he wanted God to do for me and for Him to show me that this and that were not the answer.  I didn’t feel supported by the woman, I felt she was there as a witness and for his protection.  Anyway, He wanted me to read a book called Love Is A Choice, about establishing boundaries.  One of the things it said was that sometimes you needed to act from your mind rather than your emotions.  On that basis I used to go to churches wanting to listen to and think about what was being said without getting emotionally involved, and this attitude seemed to upset people, and they made me a recipient of what I felt to be negative attention and pressure.  I was called a witch a few times at Kensington Temple.  One man I tried to say a friendly hello to one day in the congregation took an attitude against me and was only happy when it was obvious I was really upset.  He smiled broadly then, with great satisfaction.  Killed me.  All this, and more, happened before I eventually ended up in a mental hospital for the first time.

Anyway, drawing these bits together: one day I was at St Barnabas for some reason talking to John Knight at the door and I asked if I could use the toilet (I used to have keys to the building before that, and was rudely asked for them back as I was trying to finish off a job).  I suppose I wasn’t servile and submissive enough, because he told me they would rather I went to the toilet in the tube station a little way up the road (this was after my first admission to a mental hospital).  On one of the nights, a week or two later, that I was scared to move away from the building I suddenly needed a loo, but there wasn’t one.  I thought about it, and apart from the fact that I had to go (it didn’t occur to me to go in the bushes or anything) I thought, ‘if they are going to call me a witch I might as well do something a witch might do and see what happens’.  I also thought it would be getting back at them for not having let me use the toilet previously when I had asked.  So I just used the steps up to one of the side doors.  Then sat there for the rest of the night, staring at it and thinking that I had thought it would dry, but it wasn’t doing.  I felt really weird.  Early in the morning I thought to myself that I ought to go home, that I had to go home, that something bad was going to happen if I didn’t.  But I didn’t go.  I hung around the tube station, feeling horrified at everything, and in the early afternoon I started to make my way to the vicarage up the road.  I bumped into Anne Coles.  I think I asked her if there was any chance I could go with John on his weekend mission trip to another church.  I really wanted to go, so I thought the only thing I could do was ask, or I might miss an opportunity.  Anyway, it wasn’t possible.  She said something about the fact that i had been hanging around all morning in the area (I suppose other people must have seen me and told her, but I hadn’t seen them.  She was carrying a big sack of carrots and said she wondered if she would be able to get it inside.  I instinctively went to help her and she swept the sack up and whisked it away from me.  I think she eyed me all the way to her front door then went inside.  I was really upset.  I felt completely desperate about everything.

So anyway, that is the story of the first time I urinated on the church steps.  The main reason was I needed to go.  The symbolism of it frightened me, that it had been in my mind and I had acted on it.  But in my opinion my leaders made it worse by being paranoid about it themselves.  They seemed to be totally freaked and wanted to take control but never said anything except that now he wanted me to sit right at the back in the corner of the church where the steps were.  I used to sit at the front, he said the keen ones sat at the front.  That was the only reference he ever made to it.  I believe symbolism only has the power we allow it.  I think the way they handled it, and have handled it over the years, made things worse.  It was 20 years ago, and they are still using it.  I can’t remember the reason I did it the second time, but I think they were controlling and I was symbolically trying to get control back.  Things are still so bad, I have felt so criminally and dishonestly treated by them over the years, that even after I wrote this email on Tuesday I thought to myself, ‘I would do it again’.

Just before these incidents I had been at Nottingham Christian Centre, as it used to be, after my first hospital admission.  I kept getting to church and feeling I should go and speak to David Shearman (one of his elders had told me to stay around, so I did for several weeks), and sitting down not daring to go near him and feeling really upset and guilty.  He would start calling me, so it seemed to me, and I would just sit there thinking it was me who was supposed to go to him without him asking.  This went on for weeks.  The first week he had passed where I was sitting and I had put my hand in his, like a child with a father.  He held it while he walked, then he just dropped it.  While he was preaching he looked at me and said ‘you tried to split a church’.  I didn’t say anything, it was in the middle of a sermon, it didn’t seem appropriate and he didn’t seem to want an answer, but I just looked at him and sat thinking, ‘no, I didn’t’.  He said something about ‘she doesn’t listen to anyone’.  At the end of the sermon he told people to close the doors, that it was a powerful thing to do, that there would be ‘no accursed thing’ in his church.  I had said to someone that I had been cursed at St Barnabas.  I thought he was calling me an accursed thing.  I went in one morning a few weeks later and I can’t remember why, but I burst into desperate tears in the middle of a congregational song, and the worship leader said ‘it’s raining!’  I had had this in hospital, and it really upset me here.  I think it was a week before that David Shearman had read the bit from Song of Solomon where it says ‘the winter is past the summer is come arise my love come to me’, or something like that.  I was sure he was saying it to me, but I had no idea what to do with it.  I wanted to go to him, but didn’t, and I felt bad that I didn’t.  Anyway, on the ‘it’s raining’ day David came charging past my seat like an upset bull, and I was sat forward with my head in my hands, terrified.  He had made a lot of references to Colin Dye at Kensington Temple that I thought were directed at me.  One night he read a passage where a prophet says to a king, or something like that, that although there is no food today, tomorrow there will be an abundance, but he would get none of it.  I thought that was aimed at me as well and I was frightened and angry, then he said, ‘put your hand up if you want the food’, and I refused, it felt humiliating.  I got to church one morning and was turned away, being told they had instructions not to let me in.  That was my teen years church home.  I was devastated.  On the day I cried I think they had called the authorities and had me admitted to hospital and this was the next week.  I went back to the hospital ward and the significance I felt was attached to what had just happened overwhelmed me and I kept screaming.  One of the nurses ordered me to stop screaming.  She didn’t ask me what was wrong, what had happened, and offered no comfort or support.  I felt homeless.  This was before I returned to London and was so out of control that I even thought about identifying with the accusations that I was supposed to be a witch.  I have been taught by at least one teacher that the essence of witchcraft is control.  I felt this was what they had been doing to me for years and I hit back.

—///—

Were it not for the fact that neither John Pantry nor Peter Kerridge ever reply to my emails I might have warned them that I was going to make this email public if they didn’t reply.  I did think about it but decided it would be a waste of time.

Dear John

 
The Manchester suicide bombing took place on 22nd May, the 45th anniversary of my father’s death which the coroner, without any statement of intent from my father, decided was suicide.  I believe you are aware of this and of other such coincidences as I have written about them on my blog, which I have reasons to believe you have been following, along with all my Facebook and Twitter activities and my email correspondences.  I am sure there must be other things, too.
 
You have been ‘narrowcasting’ to and/or about me now for years.  I have long said this is a human rights abuse, especially since you know that part of the reason for my mental health diagnosis is that I insist this is happening.  I have emailed you before, in tones you might not have liked, about this and you have always refused to answer my emails, and so has Peter Kerridge.
 
Now you seem to be putting out a barely covert appeal for me to come forward in some way.  It seems to me to have become more urgent since 22nd May.  I remember specifically hearing it in the last half hour of the show on 23rd.
 
I am finding this very disorientating.  I have said before that, because of your activities towards me, which I have believed to be illegal, and your pushing of the mental health agenda and the way you and others have used it in MY life, that the Church unrepentant on these things is not something I would feel either safe or honourable getting involved with again.  You might soften for me, but what about other people like me?  I have always said this.
 

It seems to me that the fact that you won’t just make contact with me openly, by email or something, means you still want to cover and justify your illegal harassment and, what seems to me, dishonest and cowardly pursuit of and agenda towards me.

 
These attacks are happening.  I’m not carrying them out.  It seems to me that if they are in any way connected with me, I am just an excuse.  You may or may not be able to begin to understand what effect that is having on my life.  Until now, it seems to me, it has not been that important to you, you seem to have dismissed or thought unimportant everything I have had to say about it.  But now you seem to be calling me forward for some reason.  I am wondering why, what you think can be done about it, how I can help, how you can help and support me . . . . I really need help and support at the moment, but don’t forget, I have experienced a lifetime of what the Church seems to believe to be an expression of love.  People telling me I was demon-possessed at age 13, without parental involvement, for one, because I stared too much.  This, and even things before it, have coloured my whole experience of my relationship with God and others.
 

I urinated on the Church steps.  You have been brandishing that one for ages, even though I tried to apologise for it.  That was 20 years ago, after my first admission to a psychiatric ward where I experienced lots of abuse and neglect and cruelty and was occasioned by the cruelty and rejection and attempts at control and manipulation I was experiencing in Church.  I was incredibly distressed and afraid, and completely disorientated.  You all like to flash this urinating thing around, but does it occur to you that the reason I did it in the first place was because my state of mind had been affected by all this?  It was awful, it was bloody, bloody awful.  I might have been immature in the way I was handling concepts that were new to me, about boundaries and things, and my own right to personal boundaries that even leaders had no right to transgress, but that did not call for me to be treated as I was and abandoned and categorised as mentally ill.  I was never even specifically confronted with this issue, everything was done by psychological suggestion.  Maybe somehow they thought I was supposed to fold in response to that and ‘confess all’, but I thought the accusation was supposed to come from them.  Impasse.

 
Why are you doing what you are doing towards me at the moment on the radio?  Why does no one make a proper approach?  Is it a security issue?  Is it for my protection and the protection of other innocent and law-abiding people?  It certainly affects my feeling, it often makes me feel afraid and guilty for not co-operating with this blatant but cloak-and-dagger approach.  It makes me feel like a bad citizen and a bad Christian.  In all, a bad person.  This is not a faith or religious issue, it is a legal issue, as much as anything else.
 
Sometimes I think the whole media circus over this is ridiculous.  I was thinking about it this morning and the verse, ‘the Lord will have them in derision’ came to mind.  You might not like the fact that I thought this in relation to you and you might think it inappropriate,  I’m not going to comment.  I do, however, think the present expression of Christianity to which I am exposing myself is acting illegally, it is just a radio station, and Christianity does not stand or fall with it.  I am sorry you are too afraid to take proper responsibility.
 

This is my initial response to your – overtures?  Please reply, or pass it on to someone you think should.

 
Susan Barnett

https://www.premierchristianradio.com/Shows/Weekday/Inspirational-Breakfast/Episodes/Inspirational-Breakfast767

Following my email to John Pantry yesterday, today’s Premier Christian Radio’s ‘Inspirational Breakfast’ is not available.  This has happened at times that seemed significant to me before, often, and sometimes most of the station’s shows have been not available for days at a time.

One of the verses in the Bible I sometimes feel shamed by is in Proverbs where it says:

Like a gold ring in a pig’s snout
Is a beautiful woman without discretion

I’m sure it is one of the verses I was brought up on in my teens in the Pentecostal Church in the 70s, just as significant women’s rights legislation was coming into being.  Maybe it is right that I should feel shamed by it.  Maybe being a beautiful, quiet, submissive woman with a sweet voice is the way to go.  Never speaking up in time, always seeing and having my own communication ruled by a larger perspective, more responsible, loving and peace-seeking.  Always allowing others the space they need to build their own barriers, make their own decisions unchallenged, un-nagged, unbetrayed.  I think this is seen, uniquely, as a feminine virtue, or sin if you fail, even now, in the kind of Church I have spent my life in since 12 years old, that I felt a bit bullied into not leaving because they had the truth.  And actually, I am sure they did.

After I sent my email yesterday lunchtime I was in a taxi on the way to the railway station and a police car passed in front of us horizontally on the road we were approaching, with quite a few other cars in between us.  I felt a bit awkward and looked away instinctively but before I did I am sure the driver looked into the taxi and looked at me and raised his hand to me in acknowledgement.  I don’t know why, I had asked John to reply or to pass it on to someone he thought should.  I can’t explain it, believing everything I have believed about what has been happening to me over the years.  Then coming home last night, at about 9.30 pm in the station, there was a young police officer in a helmet who I think was on a mobile phone or something.  As soon as I saw him he turned his back abruptly, though not aggressively or in anger, as far as I could tell.  It confused me as to what I was supposed to do about it, I wanted to approach him and talk to him.  A feeling of faith said it would have been the right thing to do.  But I didn’t, I continued walking.

The Manchester ‘suicide bombing’ was on the same date as the 45th anniversary of my father’s so-called suicide.  Any readers of my blog may remember that I have drawn attention to such coincidences before.  Another was the bomb a few years ago now, near an Osho ashram just after I started listening to Osho recordings on Napster and, it seemed to me and I’m sure it was, Kensington Temple started matching their rhythms which were, ordinarily, very different from their own.  My email to John Pantry yesterday was in response to the fact that, at least in the last half hour of the show on 23rd May, the day following the Manchester bombing, their extremely ‘narrowcast’ appeal to me seemed to be quite obvious.  Even though I think they have always ignored every other coincidence I have talked about over the years, this time they seemed quite urgent, and have done ever since.  I wrote some emails to him several years ago which he didn’t answer, I suppose because he found them angry and disrespectful, saying I thought what they were doing to me was dishonest and a human rights abuse and for that reason I didn’t really want to put myself back in a Church.  Yesterday I said that hadn’t really changed.

Except in my feelings, in my fears, in my beliefs about what I am forever forfeiting in terms of relationship by writing this kind of blog post, that isn’t true.  Quite a few times over the last few months John has used a prayer saying may we bow to God in true repentance and to each other in true forgiveness, and that has felt like a plea and an invitation to me, as if they are honouring me with it, and I am betraying them and my own heart, soul and spirit by perversely and unreasonably declining the invitation.  I often see myself at the moment as being, and as having been for many years, proud, and I think I will be seen that way.  I think I am doing tremendous damage to any hopes of reconciliation by writing this blog post, that I am wrong and consequently I am destroying all possibility that they will ever trust me.  I often have absolutely no confidence in the position I have taken or in the way I am and have been trying to work it out.

Also last night I went into a pub in town for a drink while I waited for my next bus which was half an hour off.  I approached the bar and one of the staff I had spoken to in the past was right in front of me and completely ignored me, so I didn’t say anything either.  Then another of the staff, a man who I think was off duty, said something about ‘parrot now’, and I was sure it was code for me to hear as ‘paranoid’, which made me feel shocked, offended and disempowered as it was nothing acknowledged and probably wouldn’t have been if I had said anything.  I sat upset and uncomfortable the whole time I was there. thinking about it.  At one point I thought, maybe they are right, maybe I am being paranoid, and I sort of smiled, at which point the girl behind the bar looked at me in a way which made me think she was thinking, ‘there you are, you see, it’s all in your mind, we are right’, without making the connection that they had actually put it out there in the first place.  You can’t do anything in that kind of situation.  And the more I thought about it the worse it seemed to me.  I was being picked on like this in a pub which calls itself a ‘safe space’ for vulnerable people, has street pastors operating.  What can you do, what can you say?  A ‘safe space’, but won’t leave you alone and respect your privacy if, somehow, you seem not to conform or make an effort to connect in the way they seem to want you to if they set out to ignore you and perceive the responsibility as being on you?  At the end of the day, for most customers, it’s just a pub!!!!  NOT an exclusive club with membership rules and requirements on either party.  You don’t have relationship commitments in a city pub -or has all that changed?  Anyway . . . . Not the point of this post – originally.

PS OK, ignore the original basis of this post.  In the last 1½ hours, somewhere between noon and now, Inspirational Breakfast has become available.  But usually it is made available by about 9.15 am, so everything I have said remains relevant.  I’m not hedging it about with ‘I believes’ and ‘in my opinions’: I only do that to keep the psychiatric team off of me.  I’m sure they still read my blog.  The only thing they ever commit to is labelling and coercive treatment.  If I’m wrong, I’m wrong.  It’s not a crime, it’s not a sign of mental illness, and I’m not drawing up a contract or deposition.  Shame on the system that has, for years, had me afraid to be definite without allowing a possibility that I might be wrong.  I have not seen them allowing for a possibility that they might be wrong with me or anyone else.  Funny, that, isn’t it?  Psychiatry, and other powers and authorities, can’t be wrong.

THIS Is MADNESS. . . .!

This is madness! What is people’s argument, that the whole world is illegal and I just have to pay my money and take my choice? My neighbours are harassing me, the media is harassing me, the police haven’t been there for me, the mental health authorities refuse to acknowledge there is a problem that is not in my head. The problem in my head seems to be that I believe people should observe legal boundaries and respect people’s rights in the way they relate to them. People say they are bound by professional roles and obligations, so really they are not available and not prepared to acknowledge the facts staring them in the face. Their livelihoods might be on the line. While in the meantime they use all sorts of bullying and subterfuge and subliminals, etc, etc, to get YOU to open up, but then, what will they DO with it? They say they are there to help, they SAY, and I’m sure some of them mean it, but how far will they actually go? And how blind and brainwashed are they? My neighbours keep reacting, are they hacking my computer? I don’t know, they react WHENEVER I begin to think creatively or independently and my feelings start to separate. There is a woman who keeps pelting out the most contemptuous hallelujahs. I don’t know how big the group is next door or who they are really, but it feels like teamwork. There is a man who keeps ranging from emotional to anger, occasional sounds that hit me as violent. They are up now, keeping vigil, even at this time of night, goading me and making me spew all the time. It’s like a psychic interrogation. I shout back at the constant harassment and disturbances, and when I do it’s usually the woman who puts me under the cosh of the most terrifying hallelujah you ever heard. Sometimes now I can keep my emotions under control and shut myself up, but I don’t always succeed. I know there ARE Christian groups that do this sort of thing to people, but I think this woman is hate filled. Maybe so are they. It’s total contempt, I’ve shouted at them loads of times that they are harassing me and they refuse to stop. It’s constant comments and last-wording it, through the wall, not observing legal boundaries or respecting my privacy. Every time I enter the lounge she pelts out a hallelujah, if I fart they comment, if I cough they comment, if I belch they comment, or laugh, it’s intimately invasive and degrading, when I put my media on she shouts hallelujah, then goes on to comment and hallelujah all the way through, often dependent on the rhythms she hears, I think, but also nearly always seeming to be psychically connected with my thoughts and feelings and any development of thought and perception. Killing it dead, every time. And I’m left feeling I’m the one in the wrong, because I have reacted with anger and verbal abuse to their harassment, in my absolute terror and unwillingness to condone or in any way affirm it or reward it. Every time something comes on the tv or radio about children, babies, child abuse, they are there, commenting and going insane, so I think they are trying to blackmail and manipulate me with accusations of paedophilia. Tonight I shouted that I am a paedophile and not ashamed, just to try and get them off my back. But it’s been going on for weeks now, if not months. I expect them to start again tomorrow. And when I tell the mental health authorities this sort of thing is happening they say it is an auditory hallucination that is following me around, so I’ve been scared to say anything, because they are in your face contemptuous, patronising and hypocritical with their aggressive so-called caring and insist on putting you back on ‘medication’ or putting you on a section 3 for forcible treatment in hospital if you won’t comply. My neighbours know this, it is one of the things I have shouted through the wall at them, several times, first of all in an attempt to get them to take responsibility and go to the authorities because their word will carry more weight than mine, and more recently to tell them that they are taking advantage of my position to maintain power over me. I have been told by psychiatrists, or nurses, or both, that at least I am truthful about not being willing to take medication, many people say they will, collect the prescription then don’t take it, they say. I’m beginning to think I am too truthful for my own good. I don’t want to play the game, I want to bust it open. I owe it to myself, at the very least, to be able to do that. I was thinking a little while ago, having shouted that I don’t want to give in to my neighbours’ manipulation (I should also have said bullying, and blackmail), maybe we all just manipulate and overpower each other for what we want, and you are a happier person if you can accept and acknowledge it. Hey, I’LL accept and acknowledge it, I can do that. I can be happy with that. At least, that was what I thought when I thought it. Lady hallelujah is still sending out little gas pellets at my head and confusing me. I settle on one thought and feeling and she drives me in a different direction. All the time. At every turn in thought and feeling. I’ve said it’s occult. It is certainly, at the very least, illegal, harassment and nuisance behaviour, and torture, a constant drip, drip, drip of the same word over and over again. I have likened it to dripping tap torture that used to be used in communism, according to at least one book I read by someone who has been there. I think it was Richard Wurmbrand, Tortured For Christ. I read it in my early to mid teens. Except it’s not a drip, most of the time it is searing and blood-soaked (please don’t anyone tell me it is the Blood of Jesus, or the martyrs, or anything like that), enraged, blood seeking. I have to commit to saying, this woman hates me. Even if yet another interjection has changed my thoughts and feelings about saying it.

Thank God for toilet breaks!  I can think, at least a bit, in the toilet.  I was thinking, people say that sometimes civil disobedience is called for, and wondering if that is what some of the people in the media who seem to want to help me think they are engaged in.  If so, I don’t understand why they don’t respond to the emails I have sent them, not in a committed way, not in writing.  I was brought up to believe in the rule of law, but if the administration of the law is corrupt and blind eye turning, how can someone in my situation trust to that alone?  So I’m wondering if people have been waiting for me to come to a position of accepting that before they are willing to acknowledge my emails in any other way than theatre.  I’ve not really felt able to justify it to myself, looking to the media, but maybe it IS time to engage in civil disobedience over this and accept the help of those who see themselves as being so engaged.  But my position has been that it is stalking and illegal, and if it wasn’t happening then people wouldn’t be being put in mental hospitals for saying it was happening to THEM.  For it to be done in the name of religion is appalling, people should have some refuge somewhere.  But isn’t it appalling for it to be done for ANY reason by ANY organisation, religious or secular? And isn’t it subterfuge and making pawns of people to seem to be offering help and support, knowing they have a diagnosis of mental illness for saying this is happening, but not committing themselves when you try to avail yourself of it?  OK.  Then there is all the abuse and dishonesty within the mental health system, where people know that, in some cases, this is happening to people, because it affects THEM and THEIR involvement as much as the person they are involved with.  The UN says that forced psychiatry is torture, but to be honest, delicate little flower me with my delicate ego, I’ve found it ALL torture.  The woman laughed when I typed that.  I am sure they are hacking my computer.  And they’ve kept murmuring ‘yes’ in places, as if encouraging me to continue.  The problem, as I have said, is not primarily in my reactions.  There should be no harassment to make me need to regulate my reactions.  I feel a fool for having the wrong attitude, but there is no right attitude with this.  I can hear them hedging and reacting to everything I am typing.  SHE is INCREDIBLY aggressive and devious, using all sorts of tones and inflections and twists in posture.  And I am really afraid, as everyone knows, of being seen as mentally ill in my communication, because of the consequences.  I feel as if people have been riding me and messing me about for weeks, at least.  OK, that’s it.  She’s still muttering, every time I try to come to a stop.  I feel totally controlled by her, emotionally and psychologically.  By both/all of them, I’m not sure how many are involved at any given time, but especially by her.  For tonight, it ends here.  I hope people will accept this as a truthful, factual and sane communication.

Time To Take A Break?

I was watching Sunday Brunch this morning and Romesh Ranganathan said something that made me think.  I feel I’d really like to take a break from writing at the moment, whether I can or will or not remains to be seen. It feels and has felt essential to my survival, but at the same time it feels like a violently stimulated, twitchy muscle that needs to relax and heal, then maybe I can, too. Just a thought.  It might come to nothing.  You know me  🙂

Last week I decided to take my issues with Kensington Temple, among others, to Kensington Temple’s website.  I posted some stuff, I’m afraid it reads a bit distressed and I’m not sure it’s very impressive, at least in the form it takes, or even in some of the ideas expressed.  But I still maintain what they are doing to me is stalking and harassment and therefore illegal.  I refer my readers to it, here is the link. http://www.kt.org/live   I recommend if you decide to read it while the service is on that you mute your speakers!

I wrote on there this morning because I said last week that I am right, and today they have decided to preach a sermon about saying ‘I am right’, calling it self-righteousness.  My point which I tried to make in what I wrote was that, if you insist you are legally right, that is NOT self-righteousness, and the point I make now is that saying it IS is just manipulation and a false accusation to try and silence you.  They also finished off their post, which I thought they wrote in my style (if I have one!), by saying Kristian Lythe will be talking tonight about breaking through prison doors or something like that.  He’s a shouter.  He frightens me.  A lot of things they are doing frighten and disappoint me.  They had obviously read my posts last Sunday night, I could tell by their faces, but Bruce Atkinson rejected what he felt (which to me looked good and honest and genuinely spiritual and an understanding of truth) and chose to work himself up into shouting, passing it off as God’s anointing and power.  I happen to think it is not OK.  I don’t want them maintaining a conversation with me, I want someone to take this to court.  I can’t, they have made me into someone who, legally, by definition of my so-called ‘illness’, has no credibility.

This is an edited version of something I first published on 23rd June 2010.  I’m calling out names and saying what happened, since one of those names came up for me early this morning in an email log I am writing to myself for future official use, hopefully.  In the meantime, when I add to that log people in the media use what I have added, or make their programmes unavailable (all this I have noticed at other times I have written).  When this post was first published I was a committed vegan and a convinced pacifist.  I look back on who I was then with admiration and at least a little regret that I am no longer the same person.

At least, that is what I have been taught.  I have been taught that the Bible is the sword of the Spirit.  Having been taught that, and having believed it for so many years, it is the book I feel most relaxed with, and that helps to bring some peace into my world.  If I don’t read it, my focus goes all over the place.  As a vegan and a pacifist, though, I have problems with some of its content that I used not to have.  And I can’t think of a safer person to be around, or someone more representative of Jesus’ teaching (and I want to be known as both of those things) than someone who will not kill for either appetite or personal, or even national, security.  If I will deliberately do harm for ANY reason, I might do harm for ANY reason.  And I won’t.  I want people to know that about me, and to know it is OK for them to be the same.  I am an aggressive non-killer (aggressive and violent are not the same).  I am frightened of the blindness of people who are not, and particularly of the ways they might express that towards me, feeling as vulnerable as I do.

I’m hearing a big suggestion, at the moment, that a decision has been made to attempt to home medicate me, since I haven’t been dealing well with things round here.  The suggestion is definitely there and deliberate, and is either true or a lie.  If I stick around long enough I will find out, if they don’t just back off.  Either way, no formal approach has been made to me to try and help in any other way.  I find it abusive at a cellular level.  (Hmm, cells.  That, with all the yelling and other weirdness, isn’t part of Colin’s code to break me down, is it?  It’s only just occurred to me.  I’m sure he wouldn’t like me saying it, but I read a book of his called ‘Prayer Explosion’ where he talked about praying in code.  He used the IRA bombings as an example, saying at one level he was praying about the bombings, and at another, not openly acknowledged but deliberate, level, he was praying about a problem in the church.  I stayed home one Christmas Day and read the book.  I felt racked.  I kept bursting into tears.  I thought it was a good experience.  I was happy to be doing it, I thought it was a worthwhile way to spend Christmas Day since I couldn’t or wouldn’t get my head around making myself vulnerable enough with the people I wanted to be with to try and break my isolation.  I spent other Christmas Days the same way, sometimes.  I loved the time with God (as I saw it, and am sure it sometimes was), but it never made much difference to what was going on.

What I said about reading the Bible, I said it because I just did, and it settled my mind.  But while I was thinking afterwards it occurred to me that, in Pentecostalism, which has been a huge part of my background since about 12-13, I often heard that I should read and carry my Bible, because it is my sword.  But it ISN’T my sword.  It isn’t MY sword.  It is the sword of the SPIRIT.  I think there is a problem with seeing it as MY sword, because that means, often, I will wield it in relationships.  If I see it as the sword of the Spirit, its first and maybe its only place of operation, as far as I am concerned, should be in my own life.

The image comes from Ephesians 6, where Paul writes that we should be equipped with the whole armour of God.  The whole passage is metaphorical, so there is no reason for believing that to take up the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God, means to walk around literally with a book called the Bible in your literal hand.  Revelation 1:16 says that the person who appeared to John had a two-edged sword coming out of his mouth.  I was going to say ‘Jesus’, not ‘the person’, because that is the way I have been taught it.   But I looked it up on www.biblegateway.com and the first version which came up was the NIV which says, in verse 13, that it was one who looked like ‘a son of man’, not ‘the Son of Man’.  The Son of Man is a phrase from Ezekiel which Jesus applied to Himself, but it is my impression that, originally, it wasn’t referring to Jesus, even prophetically.   In Ezekiel it was the way God addressed Ezekiel.   But Jesus used it for Himself.  I like this, and its apparent ambiguity in Revelation in the NIV.  I can’t comment on the accuracy of the translation.  From what I learned at Bible College about the original language form (or was that only Hebrew and not Greek?  I can’t remember, and this isn’t a scholarly piece or meant to be, so I’m not going to look it up, but if I do later I might edit this) it’s as good a translation as any other and holding both this and other translations opens up possibilities if you don’t insist on putting them in opposition.

Who IS this son of man?  Just because it says in Revelation things we normally associate with Jesus, the NIV doesn’t make it clear, in the immediate passage, that it IS Jesus, so maybe it should be seen as having a wider application on a metaphorical and spiritual level than just to the person of Jesus.  What does it mean to be a Christian?  What does it mean to be full of the Spirit, to have the Spirit of Christ?  To be baptised in the Spirit?  It isn’t just a mind thing.  The Holy Spirit is in us and all around us.  He is the connecting force.  If we are ‘baptised’, we are soaked through.  Impregnated with the character of the baptising agent.  That is what we are and what we always are.  The Spirit of Christ is the human spirit as much as it is God’s Spirit.  They are inseparable and interchangeable, even in the Bible.  Bruce picked up on this 2 weeks ago at the 5pm service, or the 7pm service, when I wrote my open letter to Colin Dye (I published it as a separate blog, because I thought it might get wiped).  It was the week they had the visiting speaker at the 2.30 service, someone Rogers.  It took me a long time to write that entry, and already at the 2.30 service they were showing signs of having seen it, even though I hadn’t published it at that point.  I hesitated over using the word ‘spirit’ and whether or not to capitalise it, and Bruce ran with it.   I hadn’t published it at that point, or if I had, I hadn’t told them or given them a copy.  And I haven’t given them the blog address either.  I only sent a copy to Colin and Gabriel, and they had just left for a conference before I even sent it.

(Please note, I am not teaching, I’m just writing a blog entry.  My impression is my impression now, without re-reading.  You would have to read it yourself to form your own impression.  I’m just thinking onto the keyboard, trying to find a better shape for my motivational beliefs than the one I have carried for so long.  So I refuse to be held to account by anyone else’s assertion [usually covertly made, just like the threats and vitriol.  Or is that a misinterpretation of intent?  If you weren’t creating a context for me to interpret it in it wouldn’t even be an issue] that I am putting out a false teaching.  It is just food for your own thought and research.  This is a blog, not a teaching platform, which for so many years I have said I do not want, because I believe it goes against Jesus’ teaching.  But maybe that too is my misunderstanding.  Jesus stood up and taught (or did He?  Didn’t He normally sit DOWN to teach?), and although He told His disciples not to be called teacher, he did tell them to teach.  But what is teaching?  My question is not ‘is it ONLY standing on a platform’, but ‘is it standing on a platform AT ALL?’.  If we shouldn’t be called ‘teacher’, how can a situation arise where someone IS called a teacher that we ‘should’ listen to?  Listen to?  Talking and listening are not the only things required for learning.  Jesus said teach them TO DO everything I have commanded you, and forcing an earbashing on someone isn’t the way learning takes place for a child, so why should it become so for adults?  Head knowledge isn’t training, and telling people who have sat at desks and completed written assignments that they ‘are trained’, and saying their practice should conform to that ‘training’, leads to pride and elitism if a person is given authority on that basis.  (I know what I mean!)  In my opinion, all teaching and learning should be organic, hands on and relational.  THAT would do away with the professional classes, wouldn’t it?  It would also do away with state control  (I can’t write anything at the moment without doubting it, and I doubt that already.  Also it is not a commitment to a belief or an ideal, just a conclusion that I am coming to, rightly or wrongly, in my own head in this blog entry).

My reservation is over things like medicine, and the fact that I know that will be one of other people’s main reservations.  Am I thankful for modern medicine?  I don’t know.  I am as dependent on it as other people, at least when it comes to taking paracetamol for a headache or to deal quickly with cramp, which is more likely, but that doesn’t mean I am or should be thankful.  If I had a better lifestyle, I wouldn’t need the medicine.  And I believe in God, specifically I believe in Jesus, and I have already experienced healing through prayer myself, so I know He heals.  I mean physically.  I know He heals in other ways than physically as well.  One day, when I was 19 and still in Nottingham, I was at home reading the Bible and God said to me ‘I am the only psychiatrist you will ever need’.  I have never ceased to believe that.  It was a ‘holy place’ moment.  I knew it was true.

I read a book once called ‘Roots and Shoots’.  It talked about the root determining the fruit, and it was about psychiatry and other therapies.  For Christians, the roots of psychiatry are bad because its agenda was explicitly to eradicate religious belief and ‘superstition’.  So any manifestation of those things is at best marginalised, in the psychiatric model, and at worst costs people their freedom and a right to protect the inviolate state of their own bodies.  I suppose I mentioned psychiatry because it was in a mental hospital where I got into the argument about the roots of modern medical practice having come from robbing graves when research on bodies was illegal.  It BEGAN with illegality and a lack of respect for the person research was being carried out on, and for their relatives.  It hasn’t changed very much.  MANY people say they feel as if they are treated like meat, but the media doesn’t give many of them airtime (unless something undeniably awful comes to light, then they will bandwagon with it, how can they not and save face?) and the politicians vilify their own who say so.  WHY?  Why would they do that?  What could be the motive?  Who is it that they do not want, ordinarily, to benefit from otherwise acceptable people saying such ‘awful’ things?  Could it be the people they call mentally ill?  Maybe their thinking hasn’t gone that far, I hope it hasn’t.  But if hospital staff are rude and treat people as an inconvenience and a nuisance, why is a politician , OF ALL PEOPLE, slammed for saying so?  That was my experience as well.  The nurses would have loads of time to hold rowdy discussions in their office, and very little for the patients.  There was even a photograph in the ward showcase of a drinking party with one of the nurses totally out of her face, and they were expressing concerns about MY (non-existent) alcohol problem!  I, particularly, did not want to see one of my nurses in that state, not even in a photograph.  It was up there, on a psychiatric ward, supposedly portraying ‘normal social behaviour’ among staff in their time off.  Proactive they were not, except for making sure people got up, washed (sometimes), ate and were medicated.  They bullied you so much, or allowed bullying without comment, during the day and at medication times, you knew that if you didn’t queue you would be in trouble.  If you refused your medication they threatened you, even though they knew as well as you did if you had managed to get hold of the information in spite of that stance, that you had a right to refuse and to wait to see the psychiatrist to have it reviewed.  I refused one night and they threatened me with an injection, and when I said that I had a right to refuse and that the right thing to do was to refer me back to the psychiatrist, they still insisted verbally and said it wasn’t true, and I spent the whole night in fear that they were going to burst into the room.  I remember I was really upset that night by the way they handled it, they really made a barney of it, as they so often did about things.  They never retracted their insistence, but also they didn’t force the medication.  But it was like a cold war, and it was a constant state of existence.  And then they would come on friendly and expect you to be as well.  Or in conversation they would sternly say that you had refused your medication, even while, until you saw the psychiatrist, they weren’t forcing you.  But you were never in peace.  They had to maintain power.  They wouldn’t even acknowledge your right to exercise that right and be treated like someone worthy of respect for doing so.  When asked for time they were always busy.  Maybe people wouldn’t have had to ask if they had spent time developing a relationship with patients anyway.  Most of the time they didn’t.  Even if they were in the same room, ‘observing’, they would normally be reading a newspaper.  Most of the time the system was so abusive, even if not everyone in it was, and you knew nothing would change even if you spoke to someone who seemed to be reasonable, it was quite rightly beneath the dignity of most people in there with a modicum of self-respect to go cap in hand asking for time.  Even if you did it often didn’t happen.  I remember I was buttonholed to sit down with my nurse and work out a care approach for myself on the ward.  That was the end of the care plan.  All the time I was there it was never implemented, at least not insofar as a written commitment from the staff to spend time talking was concerned.  You were told you could approach your named nurse, but if you did you were always told they were busy, and promises to get back to you rarely materialised.  If someone became insistent, they got the door shut in their face, or worse.  It happened to me and others.  And often, if an incident arose, the nursing staff withdrew and wouldn’t participate, and no debriefing was offered, no process of resolution, and it would be handed over to the next shift, and they also wouldn’t mention it, and if you tried to bring it up with them they were reluctant to talk about it, and instead of offering any kind of counselling or discussion which ended up in them giving ground or acknowledging that ground might need to be given, you felt either told off and disapproved of, or dismissed. Even with senior nursing staff.  The whole attitude to care was ‘you will do this or we can (normally expressed as ‘we will’) make you’.   A choice appeared to be being given, but really there was no choice.  That is bullying.  It’s the approach that was used almost invariably and routinely with me.  Even if I managed to voice my rights so they backed off, as happened with one man, he continued to bully me so much, even in the act of backing off, I ended up sobbing on a chair, unattended and ignored, for half an hour or more.  He wanted to give me extra medication for some reason, I can’t remember why, and in the end I was begging him not to force it on me, and he grabbed my hands hard and twisted them.  He was the same person who, when I first went in and decided to handle myself as their equal and not as someone in need of medical care, and to make requests as their equal (it was for a pen and paper or a phone to phone a solicitor, or something) he said ‘who does she think she is, the queen?’  I put in a complaint, and he denied it.  I believe the other staff would have backed him up in that denial if I had tried to pursue it any further.  But I was devastated.  I believed I was acting with appropriate self-respect and was trying to show my presence of mind in the only way I had available, and he mocked me for it.  And that made me angry, and he didn’t care, he just acted as if I wasn’t there.  I was saved from the second incident, the crying incident, by a fellow patient who gave me half a banana and talked to me, otherwise I couldn’t have stopped.  Another time a girl decided to throw some old newspapers away.  A male nurse asked her why she was throwing them away, and she said they were old, and he said ‘who told you you could throw them away?’  Her answer was right.  With full dignity she said ‘God’.  She wasn’t being strange or anything, just getting rid of some old newspapers that were cluttering the day room.  And I don’t think she was being sarcastic either, she was a religious person according to her own Asian tradition.  I can’t make you feel this as I felt it, but he came straight back at her (I can’t describe his attitude, except that it wasn’t professional) and he said ‘where’s God?  He’s not in here.’  It was also not a genuine, open question inviting conversation, and none followed.  I felt awful, partly because my own first admission involved a nurse asking me ‘what was happening?’ and when I smiled and said, ‘something to do with heaven, I think’, she dismissed it, saying I was very much on the earth.  Then someone behind me who sounded like Colin Dye (I wrote and asked him, but he never replied) said ‘hmm’, in agreement.  I was on my back on the floor, Toronto style.  I felt hurt, and because I thought it was Colin, still with my eyes closed, I tipped my head back with my throat exposed, and I was thinking ‘I love you’.  At which point the person, whoever it was, was obviously crying and got up and left the room.  He was sniffing back the tears.  I wrote and asked Colin, and I think I might have told him this, but he didn’t answer me, whether I told him everything or not.  This is while I was suspected of a sexual offense on an 8-10 year old boy, a suspicion I didn’t know existed and which took me years to work out, piecing things together.  I have since heard a piece of audio which confirms the existence and origin of the accusation, even down to the use of the mother’s name, my name, and the place where it was supposed to have happened.  And I think the person involved tried to code it to me in the audio that they were sorry, because they realised they were wrong.  But in those days I didn’t understand the code.  That’s if I was even listening.  The only reason I wouldn’t have been would have been if I had been in hospital, and I can’t remember.

For one thing, the Bible is not the only manifestation of the word of God.  There are some things the Bible doesn’t talk about, because they are present day and were not around when the Bible was written.  But we still need God to speak to us about them.

I believe the word of God found in the Bible releases the wisdom of God, and light and understanding, for present day situations.  My experience often is that if I just open the Bible and start to read, something in it will spark understanding of what I am dealing with in my life or open my mind to a different perception.  For instance, this afternoon I decided to read the Bible when I felt I was getting too bothered about the way one of my neighbours is acting towards me.  It opened first to Ezekiel, I think, then to Maccabees (I’m not sure if the spelling is right, I only read the Apocrypha for the first time last year, which was when I decided to buy my first copy of a Bible which included the Apocrypha.  I thought that, if I didn’t believe something, I should at least find out what it was I didn’t believe).  I went past those and ended up in the New Testament at the story of Zacchaeus, and reading that he was a little man trying to see Jesus made me feel a bit differently towards my verbally aggressive neighbour, at least for that moment.

The argument about the origins of our medical knowledge and grave robbing?  I lost it.  Really, it never happened.  At the time I was up in arms at the thoughtless hypocrisy of a medical system with that KIND of illegal foundation treating me as they were for fear that I might myself do something illegal, and so treating me with legal backing, at least, they always said that.  I meant it.  But the nurse I said it to, one P J Charters, turned away from me and gave a dismissive and annoyed laugh to the other staff and said, ‘this makes me really angry’.  But like Tommy would have said, ‘why?  why can’t you just have the conversation?’  Thinking about it, his attitude was an invalidation of me as a person, because that is a serious view which I hold, and it would have been right to deal with it, and with me, with respect.  It’s supposed to be about mental stuff, right?  If you can’t even have such a serious and situationally relevant opinion taken seriously enough to discuss it, how does that help a person’s recovery from illness or trauma?  This man is a contributor to formative writing within the profession.  He is also a Christian belonging to a major London church (Ichthus, Sydenham) which would be in relationship with the leaders of St Barnabas, North Finchley, where the sexual assault accusation came from, and I believe he spoke to at least one leader there and that he knows about it.  One day I was on the concourse between the wards in Guys Hospital, when the wards were there, and somehow we got into the beginning of a conversation, I can’t remember what about, and I ended up saying I was too scared.  Instead of saying ‘OK’, and leaving it, he looked at me and said, ‘are you going to let that stop you?’  While I was sitting there trying to find a way to deal with that, within myself, he just stood there staring at me, then turned away and left the building.  I can’t remember why, I felt he had provoked the situation, and I believe at that point he knew about the accusation, but he never tried to talk to me about it.  When I tried to disengage from his control, he forced it back on me, and once, when he was about to leave, I think I had been afraid to ask him all through his shift if I could talk to him about something and I asked if we could talk, and he said, firmly, ‘tomorrow’.  I was upset by that because I thought it was uncaring and unreasonable, and when tomorrow came, he didn’t look for me to talk about whatever it was, and I was too offended to go to him.  The reason I was upset when he firmly turned away was that I knew I had approached him with normal and appropriate self-possession, and a clear mind and he turned away from me and I felt that my normal, non-dependent presentation had been invalidated.  He was facing off with me.  It was the same day he walked away from me asking if I was going to let fear stop me, I think, that I followed him 5 minutes later to the train station (I was free to come and go), thinking he wouldn’t mind, especially in light of what he had just said to me, and he got off the train and walked back to the hospital, and as he did he shouted at me, ‘there are boundaries, and YOU aren’t allowed over them’.  Did he then have the sexual accusation in mind, the one he never even told me about?  I told him I didn’t want benefits because I wasn’t mentally ill, one day in my flat, and he wouldn’t discuss it, he just said he thought I was, and that he didn’t mind his taxes being spent on looking after me.  But I did, and even then, he offered me no explanation as to why he thought I was mentally ill, and this accusation must have had a bit to do with it.  One day, he turned up at my door, and I had been listening to the radio, knowing that something was going on, but not making written or phone contact at that time, and he asked me who I had been talking to.  I don’t think I had talked to anyone, and I didn’t want to say anything about what was happening on the radio because I knew how they treated that, but I was fairly up and I said, ‘I’ve been talking to the fairies’.  I had no suspicion as to why he would be asking the question and he didn’t give me a reason, but he already knew I believed things were being said on the radio which I hadn’t given them.  There are other people on the wards as well who feel the same way, or rather, know the same thing, but it is insisted to be mental illness.  I suppose he must have been aware himself that something was happening when he asked this question of me, and that he thought it had come from me.  The hospital ward and its staff were often all over the programme, ‘Casualty’, even at that time.  I joked with him once that the charge nurse on Casualty looked like him.  He said a lot of people say that.  I don’t know if lookalikes of all the other staff were on there as they are now.  But I think something like that was behind his question.  I started talking to him, on the doorstep, about the bible saying that brother will betray brother to death, and that that was how I felt about the way the mental health system was being used towards me, and he said he didn’t see it like that.  But he never put the accusations or gave the reasons behind his questions, and I was clueless.  He passed off the lookalike of him on Casualty as a coincidence.

I mean (OK, here we go, my neighbour’s been shouting again, and he’s freaked me.  Should I hold back, with that, and threats of depots (or worse) being made, and no one committing to me?  It’s all words and pleas and linguistic manipulation and theatre, but no one ever says, Sue Barnett, in Bulgaria, we ARE talking to you, we are as desperate as you(!?), please come and see us’, just what feels like threats and intimidation to get me to squeal, from all sides really, sometimes).  I feel as if I am committing the unforgivable sin here, while you mess around with threats and uncommitted pleas.

But as I was saying, I mean, he’s a Christian, right, PJ Charters?  One day he was running a workshop which I attended with one other person, another patient.  This person did most of the talking, it seemed to be the way that PJ wanted it.  He was talking about feeling as if his girlfriend was following him, and a song which kept being played.  Near the end I had a question of my own, and the question was, ‘where does forgiveness come into it?’  Where does forgiveness come into helping you deal with this kind of thing?  He’s a Christian.  He stared at me and didn’t answer.  If he knows anything about what is happening now, neither he nor anyone else has made an effort to communicate that fact, so presumably he is still not taking responsibility.

This is a happy version of me, taken today

1-me-smiling-at-myself-in-the-mirror

This is how I look at someone I feel relaxed with and loved and accepted by and who I also love and realise is amazing. In this case, myself in the mirror!

After the things I have seen and heard today, I am not surprised that some people with psychiatric diagnoses are driven to violence. I, for one, find no way to blame them.
Psychiatry is an abusive system, and so are the media outlets that are involved in targeting vulnerable people with psychological assault, be they secular or religious. If they have become bedfellows may they have joy of each other.
They will be the blind leading the blind, and God will hold them accountable for all the pain and misery they cause and the tyrannies they uphold. It is possible that they might never be brought to account in this life, but there is a life to come and a price to pay. As long as they continue in what they are doing, they themselves will be liable for that price.
I wonder how many other psychiatric patients they have persecuted in the same way, and thus driven them to the atrocities we hear about and the media loves to highlight as caused by ‘mental illness’.
I am in shock and totally grossed out and in despair at what I have just seen, people knowingly packaging stuff together that I have given them, faces wreathed in smiles.
In some ways it would be easy to smile with them. But if I do that, I will be betraying myself and many weaker people who are going through the same thing.
I said years ago that I stand with those who are unjustly called mentally ill, those who have suffered the abuse of both psychiatry and society, including the church, and I still do. We might be a disparate lot, but all of us know what it is to be stripped of our human rights.
I gave them stuff to empower them for people I thought were vulnerable to media stalking because of me, and they have used it against me, while still naming those people in their programmes, packaging names together in ways that makes the group and individuals identifiable to itself. They are fully responsible for their actions in doing that, and have no right to judge or punish me for my response or lack of response. What they are doing is criminal, there are no two ways about it.
The people they are naming are vulnerable because of and TO the naming, not because I let them be named. I have drawn attention to it before, and for my efforts been told my belief it is happening is a symptom of mental illness. It is obvious though, and it is not a symptom of mental illness. I refuse to accept either blame or responsibility for their savagery, and maintain my right to stay separate from those who stalk me, until they contact me in an accountable manner, be they Christian or not. They are breaking my heart and breaking my confidence, but they cannot break my knowledge that what they are doing to me and others is illegal.

Blog Post I Promised My Facebook Friends

THIS IS QUITE A LONG BLOG POST.  I HOPE SOME OF YOU WILL PERSEVERE WITH IT.  THANKS IN ADVANCE.  I VALUE MY READERS.  I VALUE MY ‘STALKERS’ TOO.  IN FACT I WANT TO SAY THANK YOU SO MUCH TO ALL OF YOU.

 

I’ve just been out to Waitrose, and had some lunch, so I’m not in quite the same emotional space I was in when I posted on Facebook this morning.

Last Thursday I posted on Facebook about This Morning.  I said how it started with a house in Lewisham falling down and Holly Willoughby saying Oh my God, and said that I used to live in Lewisham, and that that juxtaposition between OMG and things I identify as having something to do with me or others I know or have known is common.

I looked back at the programme this morning.  Last week it was full of significance for me, as I believed that references were being made to things I had written on Facebook.  But because things have moved on a bit since then, today I couldn’t really remember the connections I made then.

A few weeks ago, 22nd May, to be exact, the anniversary of my father’s death by overdose, I posted a life event about my dad on Facebook.  I had been aware of things on the media that I believed to have been connected with me before this date.

This year, 22nd May was a Sunday.  Dr R T Kendall of Kensington Temple these days, formerly of Westminster Chapel, with both of which I had had a difficult relationship leading up to my first admission onto a psychiatric ward, preached a sermon titled ‘The Party’s Over’.  Retrospectively, he had probably prepared that sermon, and named it, at least a few days before he preached.  But I thought that it was sympathetically connected with my life event post.  Maybe it was, maybe he knew about the post before it was posted this year.  I’ve had it for at least one anniversary before.

Anyway, he was mentioned people in the media, in general, but naming categories.  He also talked about Daniel and Nebuchadnezzar, I think, about vessels having been taken from the temple and used for common purposes, and that that angered God.  One of the things he said was something about the wearing of purple, a royal and priestly colour.  I can’t remember much more than that, but the sermon can be found here.

I felt emotionally involved with this sermon at first because, right at the beginning, he looked straight into the camera and said ‘identify with Daniel’.  I thought he was talking to me, supportively, because in my post I had said that many times in my life I had identified with my father.  I’ve watched that sermon twice now, and I have noticed that that beginning has been cut off.

I’ve said before that I think I’m being stalked.  The people involved might not like my use of that term, but that is what it is.

Anyway, the next day, 23rd May, on This Morning, people were looking around nervously.  I can’t remember anything very much, but I can remember that, at the end of the programme, Rylan Clark-Neal said that they were compromised. Holly Willoughby coughed, it seemed to me significantly.  I didn’t think it was worth mentioning, because it all seemed too obvious and easily explained.  The same day, talking about wearing purple, I watched the BBC1 East Midlands news at 6.30pm, and they were all wearing purple, and one of the newsreaders said that she didn’t know why, but they had all been told to wear purple that day.  It seemed to me obviously connected.

At first, I felt personally attacked by this, and it made me feel angry and alarmed.  Later I thought, it’s just a fight between secular and religious media, and nothing to do with me except for my own identification and recognition  (Neither side wanted me involved.  Neither side really cared about me, if they did they would tell me so through normal, committed communication like an email or a phone call.  And they didn’t, and don’t). I thought that Kensington Temple was being paranoid and alarmist over what might be seen as a quite ordinary referential challenge.  It was just a media scrap, if they didn’t like it, they didn’t have to watch, they could just get on with the job without taking notice of their detractors.  But I wrote to them, through their website, and among other things, asked if Dr Kendall wanted to see me.  They didn’t even answer.  I found that rude, and it made me anxious.  So many times I make contact and get no answer.  These days I am reasonable and try to be friendly, and they don’t even answer that, except in pointed and contextualised references in their sermons and radio programmes.

Anyway, briefly back to This Morning of 9th June.  When I watched it again today I felt much of what they were doing was making metaphors.  Recently Holly makes me laugh, I find her quite amusing, but I feel also she is quite vicious.  The Old Testament says, ‘don’t be afraid of their faces’.  I have felt intimidated by her apparent sweetness, but she says some horrible things behind that.  I have expressed anxiety about writing openly about what I think for fear of being put back on medication, and in this programme she was talking about someone and hospital, and it came up twice, and both times she made a face and said ‘Oh no’, and I felt it was cruel mockery aimed at me.

(My, this is draining!  For one thing, the WordPress writing frame keeps slipping upwards so it looks as if my post has disappeared.  I keep imagining it might be someone hacking while I am writing and trying to disrupt me.  In truth it is probably a software issue.  I hope so anyway.)

I was just looking for something in Monday 13th’s episode of This Morning.  I started watching from the beginning, and when I got to about 33 minutes 40 seconds in, where they are talking about rain with someone who predicts weather (I thought he was a gardener, but he seems to be more than that) Holly quite deliberately shouted ‘woohoo’, and I thought she had got it out of the post on Facebook which I posted on Saturday, in fact I’m quite sure she did.  But that wasn’t what I was looking for.  What I was looking for came up a few minutes later, after 37 minutes 40 seconds in . . .

I had an experience with someone who came to repair my boiler a few weeks ago.  At the end of repairing my boiler we had a conversation in the kitchen over coffee and a biscuit (one of my own home made ones), and everything he said, every place name, had significance for me.  I can only remember two of them, but I just kept nodding along at him thinking ‘Oh yes, there’ and Oh yes, there’.  The two I remember are Middlesbrough and Toronto, both places where Church ministers from my past came from.  But it wasn’t just two places, it was many.  Anyway, I was watching Monday 13th’s episode of This Morning and I had the strong impression that Holly just had one of those moments.  The man she and Phillip Schofield were talking to said something like ‘I’m OK, I’ve got form’.  I heard that and it felt like a revelation, and I stared at Holly and I thought she reacted.  I just watched it again and it doesn’t seem so marked now right at that point, but at the end of the interview Holly’s eyes are like saucers.  I think she might have said something similar behind the scenes.  Or someone did.  Perhaps.  I’ve even thought things like that myself when I’ve watched KT live, that I’m OK, I don’t have to give in.  It’s a great bit of power tripping.

Tea break.

When I was in Bulgaria between 2009 and 2011, I started hearing a woman’s voice from the flat upstairs, so it seemed, shouting hallelujah.  It drove me wild.  It was almost incessant, and I would rant and rave using Google Translate, which isn’t very reliable.  It or my reaction or both made me very ill.  I used to have chest pains and vomiting.  It happened in a few places, always directly where I was living, never followed me away from the building.  Which is partly why I wonder if it really was an hallucination, as my psychiatrists insisted.  It came to the attention of the psychiatrists because I started hearing the same thing when I was in emergency accommodation in Nottingham, and I called the police several times.  Once I turned them away because I thought they were rude to me. Eventually, the police called the mental health team, and one of the officers who turned up with the team was the one who was rude to me.  He was quite controlling on the scene.

Anyway, about 2 or 3 months ago, not having experienced it for quite some time, I started to hear a woman’s voice saying hallelujah again, and it seemed to be coming from next door.  It only lasted for two weeks.  This time I didn’t rant and rave.  I also didn’t believe it was an hallucination.  I believed it was some sort of spiritual manifestation, the source of which I was uncertain.  I was alternately angry at it, scared of it, desperate, grateful.  I prayed that it would stop.  After it did, I felt as if I had lost something, it was like grief.  Just towards the end of it I tuned in to Kensington Temple’s live service one afternoon when Bruce Atkinson was speaking.  He was talking about the woman who came to Jesus for her daughter to be healed.  She wasn’t Jewish, and Jesus told her He had only been sent to Israel, and it wasn’t right to give the children’s bread to dogs.  I kept hearing things I identified with from my experience at KT, and I was inwardly holding on, asking God to help me, as well as arguing with what I was seeing and thinking it wasn’t that impressive, as Bruce kept talking and staring into the camera, as if something kept drawing him to it.  They put a version of that sermon on the website, but it wasn’t that version.  In the version on the website Bruce seems to be trying to avoid looking at the camera.  I think it was the next week that Colin Dye came on, and at the beginning of the recording he looked into the camera and gave a little smile, and started talking about quantum physics, and how he didn’t understand it, but came back to art.  I thought he was talking about ME coming back to art in posting William Blake’s ‘The Sick Rose’ on my blog.  I don’t know, they seem to have used things from my blog before.

At some point after this, I think, he said that ‘they are going to start using dogs with her, I wonder how she will deal with that’ or some such words.  Shortly after this Phillip and Holly, having experienced something strange, I think, in the studio (can’t sound too definite, they might put me away again.  Even for this they might put me back on medication.  I’m taking a big risk), started to feature Clover, their guide dog in training, a lot.  I had been watching live, I think, then I started watching on ITV +1, an hour behind.  One day, Phillip started commanding the dog to sit.  He did this right at the beginning and exactly an hour into the programme.  He looked frightened, to me.  Once when he did this one of the light bulbs blew.  I know this can be what some people call a psychic occurrence.  I had a music teacher who became a bishop, and I read an article about him which said he walked into a room and things happened with the electricity.  Phillip, whether he made the connection or not, just said that bulbs blew all the time.  I made the connection, though.  I might have been wrong myself, but it was some coincidence, if I was.  One day, he looked into the camera and stuttered over the word ‘superfood’, orsomething else beginning with the first syllable of my name.  I thought it was a deliberate stutter and that he was trying to say ‘Sue’.  I’ve thought about it since, and decided he could have had anything in mind.  He might have been thinking ‘supernatural’, for instance.  Or it might just have been a nervous, meaningless stutter.  I’ve not heard him stutter before though.  (To my nurses, there is a history behind these assumptions I don’t want to go into, this post is going to be long enough without that.  I’m wondering if I’m ever going to get to the end of it).

I saw they were distressed, and thought they were trying to help me.  So I tweeted Phillip one day and said I felt for them and was touched by the fact they were trying to help me, or words to that effect, and that I thought the reason for their distress was that they were doing something occultic with the Clover, and asked who she represented when he commanded her like that.  He said a few times he didn’t know what I was going on about and that I was talking nonsense, and ended up saying, ‘I’m sure you are really sweet, but you are now blocked’.  And that was that.  I think what he was doing with Clover, occultic or not, was because he was afraid of something else.  I was angry about something I had seen on the show and something they were promoting as normal which I believe shouldn’t be, and I think my anger had what might be called by some a psychic energy which was holding them in a bad place.  I wouldn’t let go for some days and was pleased at every sign that they seemed to be losing it.  I have wanted to apologise for that several times.  I thought the right way would have been to keep watching and complain to Ofcom if I didn’t like something I saw.  Within a day or 2 of me thinking that, Phillip came on laughing and said they gave Ofcom plenty of business.  I don’t think it was a simple coincidence.  Anyway, dogs abounded after that.  Andrea McLean on Loose Women, which I also watch, reacted to a bark a few weeks ago by saying something like, ‘that’s right, take it out, we don’t want any accidents’.  It wasn’t a real dog, obviously, it was a miked up bark, staged.  It felt psychologically violent.

On This Morning they were celebrating Clover’s first birthday on Monday, and had a load of dogs in.  I happened to turn on, on ITV +1, at just the time when they appeared for the 2nd time.  The first time was just after Piers Morgan and someone else had been on with Holly and Phillip talking about Orlando, but I hadn’t seen that.   I just saw the dogs let loose, and lost the plot.  I didn’t take anything else in after that.

The Monday before they had featured Mersea, where John Pantry lives, who works at Premier Radio and used to be one of my Facebook friends.  Fairly soon after they showed someone called the same name that came up for me while listening to another radio presenter quite a few years ago.  I can’t remember what motivated me, but after I saw the dogs this Monday, I wrote an email to both John Pantry and Colin Dye, telling them about this.  I thought something might need to be done about it, and that they needed to watch the recording, before it was taken down.  In the end, it was there until midnight.  In the meantime, I was uncertain as to whether or not John and Colin would receive the email in time, so I sent it to the live studio as well.  Then I regretted it, and sent a copy of the email and its forwarding to someone else I had emailed over the weekend, because I thought he was in touch with the person I had mentioned in the email and I wanted to warn and protect that person.  Later I thought that, really, my trust was a dubious honour, and possibly overpowering for this person (I also thought that, in the state I was in, I was making far too much of what I had seen and heard, and he thought I was nuts and he wasn’t interested.  I thought Premier and Kensington Temple would have the same opinion.  Maybe they do).  He didn’t email me back.  I don’t know why he did this, but he told Phillip and Holly, because I had mentioned them in the email.  On Tuesday Holly was cavorting all over the screen with veiled references to this email, and she also mentioned someone who had lost a couple of stones and her friends asked her if she was putting it back on, then she did this really violent jerk with her arm, and I felt terrified.  I have mentioned on Facebook that I have lost weight, and I thought she was cursing me.  I thought she was a witch in full flight.  At the end of the recording, totally distracted and barely able to focus, I tried to reorientate myself by posting a link to a radio play, then I went to bed, still frightened, then after I got into bed, I started to laugh.  I felt loved up.   I felt amazing.  Holly had been smiling all the time she was doing this.  That was when I started to find her funny.  I thought last Thursday that the way she opened her eyes wide and batted her eyelids was false and I hated it and I hated her, but I found if I did the same it cleared my perceptions and negative feelings.  I can’t remember if that was before or after Tuesday.  Anyway, the loved up and laughing bit, I felt it was inappropriate given the nature of what I had communicated in my email.  I tried to put a stop to it.  Then yesterday, on Loose Women, Ruth Langsford, who is also a This Morning presenter, said that she was ‘ashamed’ of something, and coughed significantly.  I hadn’t said that I felt ashamed in the email to Premier Radio and Colin Dye at Kensington Temple, but I had to this other person.

In the email I had said that I thought they were after me and the Church, and that all was fair in love and war.  On Tuesday, Dara O’Briain was on with Hugh Dennis, on This Morning again, and they were both grinning from ear to ear, and one of them said, ‘she thinks it’s fair’.  One of them said something about open heart surgery.  For me, that was a bit what it was like, I suppose.

I’ve been thinking, though.  When I said all’s fair in love and war, I didn’t mean things like stalking someone’s social media account to reflect back to them, especially when that person isn’t in the public eye.  I have thought I was willing to tolerate it (Stockholm Syndrome?), but what about other individuals who are also not public people who are experiencing the same thing?  I keep thinking it’s not about me, and being relieved every time I think it.  However, I think I am wrong.  They even mentioned a road that has the same beginning of its name as mine yesterday, and put quite an emphasis on it.  I have 2 neighbours, one partially sighted and the other who goes around bare chested.  References to them were put together in Sunday Brunch this week (Channel 4), as was a reference to my email that I sent on Saturday, and a comment about someone having the heart of a dog, and emotional looks.  I sent the presenters a chat message saying they had spoken to the man I emailed and goodness knows who else, and asked them what they wanted and where we were going.  According to my Facebook account, they haven’t even looked at it yet.  It has been going on with them for some time.  On Pentecost Sunday they featured meditation and a linguist talking about languages and making them up.  OK, if they want to, they can fight like that, it’s not illegal.  But they had Michaela Strachan on recently, someone who is a friend of this presenter I listened to years ago and met a few times.  The first time was good, the rest he pretended not to remember me.  Yet he sat and talked with me in his car for half an hour and drove me to the station.  His wife remembered me, though.  I was telling my nurse Pete yesterday, that the last time I went she tore me off a strip, took my phone number and said her husband would be in touch if he was interested.  I’ve decided not to go back as they obviously don’t want to know.  Although I would like to believe differently, I see the constant songs and references that I associate with him and his calling me as being chain yanking.  And as lovely as I think he is, I think he deliberately used to torture me psychologically.  I think he had ‘psychic’ insight into me as well, particulars at particular times.  I used to feel we had telepathic communication, he would often come on his programme saying something I felt we had shared telepathically earlier in the week.  He used to talk about his dog.  I used to think it was a backwards way of saying ‘my God’, and I was offended.  I also thought he was referring to me, as often when I tuned in he would start talking about walking his dog, immediately.  So the dog reference is not a new one.  One day I lay in bed listening to him with my back to the radio, because I felt closer to him and more able to listen that way.  He said, ‘my dog has started turning its back on us, it feels closer to us that way’.  I think something I said once is being used as emotional blackmail.  I think Ruth Langsford referred to it yesterday on Loose Women when she was ostensibly talking about her son Jack, and talking about apologising.  I already have, and meant it.  I wish I wanted to again.  I have recently been willing to open up to the possibility of meeting him again.  In my mind, there is a war between him and the Church.  But until recently I had decided I had moved on from him, that he had deliberately abused me, and that I was wrong to look to him in the first place.  But the fact is, I took a resting place with him when there was absolutely no way I could hold myself together in Church and didn’t feel safe going.  It wasn’t rebellion, it was respite.  That’s how it felt, anyway.  Once I was afraid even to speak, and there was no way I could have written like this, or tweeted, or gone on Facebook.  I doggedly (sorry, no pun intended, I can’t think of the other word) took the tools and attitudes he offered and rebuilt my ability to communicate.  I feel, rightly or wrongly, that I owe him.  Defiantly, was the word I was looking for.

In the meantime, I haven’t heard from Kensington Temple following this email, or from John Pantry or anyone else at Premier.  In the email I said to John that I had got the impression that he wanted to be involved.  On his show the next day he said ‘you can be involved’, then started talking about bipolar, I think it was, putting together a reference to what I had said with a reference to ‘mental illness’.  I feel if I go back to Church, it’s something I am going to have brought against me every time I’m perceived to be out of line.  I think Premier is withholding programme recordings as well.  I unfriended John last Friday because he was answering things I put on his timeline then, when I answered, he cleared them off.  I felt hurt by this so unfriended him, I thought it was against me.  I have since thought he might just be one of those people who likes to keep a tidy timeline and does the same thing with a lot of people.  But anyway, Monday’s Inspirational Breakfast is not available.  The other week they had almost a total lockdown on programme availability, they have since restored some, but not all.  I emailed a show the other week, and I later looked for the recording so I could listen back (the man read my email out and commented on it), but it isn’t available.  I asked both John Pantry and Rick Easter, both Premier presenters who were Facebook friends until I unfriended them, if they knew what was happening with the programme recordings and why they were not available, and John cleared the question off his timeline without answering, not even to say he didn’t know, and Rick just ignored the question.  I don’t know who they are hiding from.  There is definitely something going on.

I have said for years that I don’t want to be in a Church that calls the police on people and accepts psychiatric labels against people’s wishes.  I have heard a lot about good disagreement lately on Premier, and other stuff like that.  Teaching children to manage their emotions and emphasising that you are there for them and will handle it together, instead of focusing so much on the idea of discipline.  Hearing that kind of thing, it’s making me feel that it is I who am being a terrorist in my refusal to go to a church where the police might be called, that I am the one who is using emotional and spiritual blackmail.  I feel all my years lost in my life and in the Church are all my own fault.  At one time I was so confused by the fact that all the wards had Biblical names, I thought my answers were all to be found in hospital.  That’s where I would recover my power of self-determination (watch this come up in a sermon).  And yet, I know the Church has been – stalking me, I call it, I don’t know what they call it – for years.

It’s just occurred to me, I don’t know how the programmes that have featured references to my road name and allusions to my neighbours have got the information,  I haven’t said anything about either in my blog.  The blind allusion has come up several times, I’ve only this week noticed the one about bare-chestedness.  I don’t think, again, that it is simple coincidence.

I think yesterday morning, on Inspirational Breakfast, John said something about not being too cruel, she is vulnerable.  I thought that was for me.  But my goodness, I wish they would realise that their refusal to answer my emails properly makes me feel most vulnerable of all.  It messes with my head and perceptions big time.

When I was in hospital last time I got involved with the chaplaincy service.  One day I spoke to the alternative religion person who said to me that sometimes coincidences come so thick and fast and from so many directions, there has to be a big intelligence behind it and it can’t be by human organisation.  I took that and believed it.  But now I’ve married it to a renewed belief that I am also, as I have maintained before, being stalked.

The fact that I have done something wrong does not make it OK to abuse me.  Once I believed it was OK, the stalking, the being called a dog, the psychological abuse (but Oh, how grateful I sometimes thought I was).  But now, I usually have more self-respect.  If that makes me appear cynical and unfeeling to the people who have received my emails recently, I am sorry.  I know desperation can make people do some terrible things, and I hesitate to say that those I say are stalking me are the cynical ones, but it does feel that way sometimes.  Yesterday I wanted to contact Colin Dye and say, ‘I thought they loved me, but they don’t, do they?’  I wouldn’t dare though.  I can’t bear more words coming through my computer and no response to my emails.  But I will bear it.  The alternative is a vacuum.  To some that might be peace.  It is to me sometimes, but most of the time I think I can’t live like that.

Well, it is 7.30 pm and today’s This Morning is not available yet.  That is very unusual.  It is normally there by 4 pm.  (edit note: eventually it appeared around 10 am the day after I wrote this post).

Update 09.06.2016

These days I can be found a lot of the time at https://www.facebook.com/sue.barnett.547.  I hope you will come and connect with me there.  I will continue to post on here occasionally.  This is a pinned post, so please scroll down a couple for my latest entries.

And if my nurses are reading this, please respect the fact that this is my SPACE.  As one of my lecturers once said to me, I can say what I like.  None of it should find its way into a clinical decision or into my notes, as it has done before.  If you MUST stalk me, please keep a respectful distance between this and our offline relationship.  I reserve the right to say what I like on the internet, whether you think you should respect that or not.  I have had this conversation with one of you, and you said you would have to look into the legalities of it.  I think the legalities are, if you don’t like what you read on my blog, stop reading.  If they aren’t, they should be.  I’m sick of censoring myself out of fear of consequences.

Looking Back

I am often embarrassed  by seeing the posts that get the most traffic on my blog.  I feel embarrassed by my communication style and by the content, especially when I have said that I and my close contacts are being stalked.  It was real enough at the time, but looking back it feels unreal because now I am not feeling as I did then.  What I can’t say for sure is that all of this embarrassment is justified.  It is possible that I was being stalked.  Certainly I was angry and afraid at the times I wrote that way, as well as feeling guilt over the fact, as I saw it, that I was failing in relationships.  I feel as if I was wrong because it was so long ago and nothing seems to be happening now.  I still hear the odd thing, but nothing major.

I want people to read my blog because I want them to get hold of the antipsychiatry that I wish to communicate, but I feel as if most of my blog is embarrassing rubbish, so it isn’t very easy for me to drive traffic by way of my blog.

I’ve still got lots of library books out about antipsychiatry.  I know I have been in agreement with them but my position gets weakened by the fact that I continue to be detained and that things seem relatively tolerable at the moment.  I’m not aware of any major feelings of being stalked, and I’ve got a place to eat and sleep and shelter.  As much as I would like to go on reading these books it seems pointless and that I am fruitlessly in strong agreement with them, when nothing I say or do makes any difference to the way I am viewed and treated.  It’s a waste of time and mental energy to keep reading, though I can see where they go and I agree with them.  I’m a patient, it doesn’t matter what I think about these things.  The psychiatric staff where I am believe they are the people with the right view and way of doing things.

So being constantly confronted on my dashboard with post titles that make me cringe with embarrassment is taking its toll on me when it comes to confidence that my blog can communicate anything worthwhile and understandable to a new reader.  I don’t know why people look for these posts as opposed to some of my more rational ones, but they keep going for posts the content of which makes me cringe.  So I have a difficult relationship with my blog at the moment.

Can’t Be Bothered

I can’t be bothered keeping up with everything, everything is too much of an effort.  I’m not helping myself, possibly, assuming that no one would want to be my friend.  I’m realising, I think and hope, that I have had plenty of opportunities to make friends away from the hospital with people who stop and talk to me, but I am afraid for when it goes further and gets complicated, not to mention even the first risks, because I feel as if I am unsure what being and having a friend is these days.  I’m not watching TV so it almost feels as if the things I have believed to be happening aren’t anymore because I’m not watching to see it.  Enough.

Sharon

I think Sharon must like bad publicity, because she certainly seems to be going out of her way to get it.

She keeps whistling at me.  She also keeps saying ‘babe’ around me.  Yesterday morning when I went into the clinic room because it was depot day, she stood outside for at least 5 minutes like an armed guard.  I felt harassed and demeaned.  She has pushed medication from the beginning.  I saw a film some years ago where a boy went into the headmaster’s study to be physically punished.  When he came out a female member of staff was waiting for him and started to make strong physical advances towards him.  That was what I thought of when I came out of the clinic room in regard to what Sharon was doing.  I went and sat down in the public area in front of the office and she came and sat there as well, and every time I spoke she whistled, or started speaking at the same time or something similar.  She did it twice today as well, once when I went out in the afternoon and I made a face at her in response, and once this evening when I was in my room and someone kept yelling and banging something really loudly and I shouted shut up.  She whistled at me then as well.

When I first met her we were sitting around chatting and she seemed to be misunderstanding everything I was saying about time seeming to go faster when you are older because when you are young you don’t have the perspective of age and things seem to last a long time.  She put it down to impatience if things seemed to go slowly.  Then someone called her away and when she came back she seemed to me to blank me.  I have got used to that happening over the years.  The next day I was making noises like in the Goons and I engaged her in conversation about it and Spike Milligan and she asked me if I was on medication.  I said no I was medication-free and I intended to stay that way.  She coughed very uncomfortably.  I believe I was relatively happy and normally confident at that time.  I felt strong, now I feel weak and vulnerable, more than I did then.  I talked about quantum physics and the fact that it says that everything which is observed is altered by the fact of being observed.  I heard a programme on the radio a little later saying the same thing and that the thing observed seems to know when the microscope or whatever is switched off.  She said it was a load of rubbish and that she knew better than quantum physics.  I was offended because those kinds of snippets are things that I happily and cheerfully incorporate into my view of life and my anti-psychiatry/anti-drugs position and to me it is coherent.  I just accept what they say and she was disrespecting something she didn’t understand.  That attitude frightened and angered me.  I told her with a little strength but not offensively or over-angrily, I believed, to eff off and she started finding fault with me for saying that, but it was just in a throw away fashion it might have been in a not overheated discussion between friends.  Also I had said something about brainwashing, and she said she wasn’t into that.  When she told me off for saying eff-off I said what about all the things they say to us, including the diagnoses, that we are supposed to receive meekly.

A little later the same day, or the next, I was sitting watching television with N and she came up and picked up a newspaper and sat down.  Someone came on the tv I knew from listening to the radio and she said she had been in something or other I had not heard of and I was off and snooty with her and said I didn’t know what she was talking about, which I didn’t.  But I tried to make it clear I didn’t want a relationship or conversation with her.  She answered me starting with the last note of what I had said, saying I didn’t want to have an argument with her, and I said if she wasn’t into brainwashing why was she using the same note to start that I had finished with, after making her silent observation for a few seconds.  It sounded menacing and I felt harassed.  N started shouting at me and as is the fashion no one cared what it was about, the argument, they just told us both to be quiet, like children who can’t communicate, or dogs that need separating.  Sharon sat there while I was there and I got up and went to my room because I believed if I did she would get up and walk away.  She did.  I think I had made it clear after the previous conversation with her where she claimed to know more than the quantum physicists but also was disrespecting my position of valuing their insights and being able to incorporate them into my view of and approach to life that I didn’t want to talk to her.  I told her, when she asked me how I was, that I would feel a lot better if i was being looked after by people who respected people who knew more than them.  This is where the mimicry started in earnest from other staff, I think, and the picking up for something unrelated where I have left off.

I remember Alan McMurtrie, my old English tutor, told a story about the praying mantis and that the female was observed to eat its mate after sex.  But when the observation was moved further away and wasn’t an intrusion, the female stopped doing this.  It’s similar to the quantum physics observation in some ways.

Update 18.08.2013 It’s as if they think they are the ones who should shine.  It seems to be more about them being wonderful people and nurses than about me as a person, what they call patient.  Sharon is calling everyone ‘my swede-art’.

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.

Jumble

WordPress has changed its presentation quite radically in its new presentation of Freshly Pressed.  I prefer the old ‘at a glance’ approach.  If I say something it is almost a guarantee that what I want isn’t going to happen in changing back.

I was thinking today that perhaps the reason for my dark thoughts and interpretations and presentations of my situation is the colour and design of my blog, and it might be time to get a new theme. Is the difference between bright and happy and dark and brooding the difference between child material and adult material?  I’ve been thinking I’ve been writing like a teenager with angst, writing dark things like someone trying to trip lightly.  Maybe the style I attempt is too light for the things I write about.

I watched an old play radio video today that I downloaded from Youtube.  4 hours of Tommy Boyd, but the lighting on his face was awful. It made it look as if he had white patches all over his face.  I am sure they could have done better than that, so why they didn’t I have no idea.

The door slamming isn’t stopping.  It is really making me feel ill.  I am lying pinned in terror and feelings of sickness to my bed.  It isn’t just the door slamming, it is the strangeness and contempt. Julie still refuses to talk to me.  I’d like to go and get a cup of tea but I am up here in almost constant shock and feelings of weakness and dread.  My own reactions have contributed to that as much as anything else.

I’m really confused, I don’t know what to do for the best.  The things I need to do I am not sure if I can do them adequately, like write new emails of complaint to Nottingham City Homes and the IPCC (Independent Police Complaints Commission).

Who am I writing for when I write my blog?  I don’t know any of my respondents. Who comprises my intended readership?  I am largely aware of my stalkers and their responses/criticisms.  A lot of the time I am trying not to sound stupid to them, or I will be made to feel stupid.

I’m thinking about my pastors and their almost caveman-like approach to me, as one of their lost goods and chattels. There is something about David in the Bible who, when enemies took the camp;s possessions, ‘pursued and overtook’ until he recovered everything.  It appears that my pastors’ interpretation of this justifies stalking in their minds.  I don’t think I am imagining it.  Actually, at the moment I do, or I would not need to say that.

I’m sick of church and the thought of it.  When I remember the treatment I got there, especially in the 90s, and the fact that no apology has been given into my hands, I don’t want to go back.  I just want to sleep.  I just want some peace and respect and security.  I want some love.  I never knew a father’s embrace, a peaceful, contented, quiet and still thing.  I don’t think I will find it with any Pentecostal men, I don’t think they would sully themselves or their consciences to give that kind of support and therapy.  But now I feel as if I am being childish and that at my age, even given my background, I shouldn’t need that.  But David kisses his daughter and lets her kiss him, his 40 year old daughter who shares my birthday (I never knew that until a week ago, but David has known it for years and not told me.  I wasn’t close to the family so didn’t ask, but he could have told me when he had my birthday during the radio programme days.  But he didn’t.  It would have been a nice, friendly thing to do.).  I feel I am betraying myself and them by putting this in my blog.  And I feel I am being ungrateful by interpreting a hand up as stalking and putting unwelcome requirements on me.

The last sermons posted on the Christian Centre site are 25th November, the day after my birthday and a failed attempt to go and see Tommy Boyd.  I think they are reading my blog and my communications to Tommy, with or without his permission and co-operation, and they are holding back sermons for weeks.  If they are stalking me I shouldn’t go back, but I have been wanting to for weeks.  I feel really sick.  I can’t get my head together for anything.   Going back feels like the right thing to do but stalking is harmful and against the law, whoever is doing it and whoever they team with.

I’m reminded of a line from a Philip Larkin poem, ‘My mind’s not right’.  I offered that as the key line in a poem in 6th form and it was accepted and affirmed.  That reminds me of when David affirmed my selection of the verse that says Saul was jealous of David, because the Lord was with him and not with Saul.  I’m not sure if thinking in terms of key lines and thoughts and verses is altogether helpful now, and I could wish those things had not been asked, let alone my answers accepted.

PS The man in the ‘cinematic baguette’ post that was freshly pressed soon after I published this does not look far away from Gordon Brown who reminds me of David Shearman.  I’m not sure what WordPress’s purpose was in that.

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.

Striking Poses

Here’s one: because I am getting on in years I am entitled to some of the luxuries of life, and to establish the lifestyle I have always wanted.

Yesterday coming home – sorry, back to the hospital; I must be getting institutionalised – I thought that was a lie put out by pension and financial investment providers.  We aren’t entitled to anything just because we are getting older and feel we have always been entitled to it.  Not even respect and facilitation of the lifestyle we would choose for ourselves.

Is that true?  Is that really true?  Because at the moment it feels such a desolate thing to say and believe.

To bring it back to my situation, I am being told that they want to transfer me under my present section to shared housing which comes under another hospital.  I have chosen, by default or otherwise, to live on my own. Knowing the kind of harassment I have had towards me in places I have lived, I am afraid of it springing up in my actual living space and turning really nasty, maybe even dangerous.  We, I and my proposed housemates, are not people who could expect to be taken seriously if we said what was happening, because I, at least, am not being taken seriously by the psychiatrist now.  I am getting tired.  I would like some peace and protection and safety on my own terms.

But I’m not entitled to it just because I am aging.  Or am I?  Have older people, like myself (I will be 52 next week) been demeaned a little bit too far?  There we are, I am striking a pose again.  I am tired, I am grief-stricken, I am menopausal.  Is a safe and peaceful living space, and a little respect and self-determination, too much to want and aim for?  What is this third age?  Is it a new age of helplessness?

Today’s Dinner and Matters of the Heart

I was thinking today about a couple of people we have on the ward.  One lady cannot speak intelligibly after an accident and/or damage/operation on her brain.  Another is said to be deaf.   For both of them I think this is the wrong place for them to be.  It is frustrating for them and all of us.  The lady who can’t speak has learned to speak a few words, strengthening my belief that rehabilitation of her speech is possible.  I am not aware that she is getting any support or therapy towards that end.  If my awareness is accurate it is obvious that, having not been a party to any decision on things at that level if any has been taken, I don’t know why.

The lady who can’t speak started ranting at me when she reached over me and put her sleeve in my dinner at the hatch. For all I know she might have been saying ‘sorry’, but all I knew was that she was shouting and wouldn’t stop, right next to me, with staff standing by and not intervening.  I told her to stop talking at me like that because she knew I couldn’t understand her.  I thought I heard one of the domestic staff say ‘bitch’, and I said ‘I’m not a bitch, I’m sick of abuse’, and staff standing by and doing nothing.  What are they doing, standing by and watching it unfold before deciding whether or not to stop it?  Luke said he didn’t think anyone would be calling me bitch, and he should know, in that situation, he was standing right next to the domestic that I thought had said it.  I’ve heard other things like that as well, so I’m not discounting my own understanding – angry at me and despising me for standing up for myself when they don’t stop the woman ranting at me.  Why?  I came away feeling and believing that Luke was just playing the role of the nice guy, even if he didn’t do anything to help.  They started giggling and laughing behind me, among themselves.  They rebuild themselves and help themselves relax while ignoring us.

I asked another patient if she watched ‘Doctors’ at 1.30pm weekdays on BBC1.  I told her that yesterday there were definitely 2 of the ‘staff’ characters recognisable from here and that they had done exactly the same thing with staff in London, and that they were blaming me when I had already told them from the beginning that this was happening.  For trying to act responsibly I have been told that it is evidence of ‘(my) mental illness’ and medicated into exhaustion, while having other people pull shocked disapproving faces at me and calling me bitch – or using the word against someone else and me mistaking it for being aimed at me.  Both are equally unacceptable.

Someone else was saying, before that, that she had been sent the same sort of food for weeks running, and I sympathised with her, saying they shouldn’t employ someone in a place like this who doesn’t know how to cater properly for different diets, because this is not a hotel.

The girl I said was being bullied in one of my last posts has become dependent on everyone rather than being the strong, forthright person she seemed to be when she first came in.  We all pipe sweet pipings in the end.

I moved rooms a few weeks ago.  My old one had a fan or something really loud right outside, and the cigarette break.  I’ve moved to the quiet side.  There is a man in one of the buildings who kept crying out ‘oh’, loudly and pathetically.  People kept trying to stop him.  One day there were two of them, one of them ended up crying out ‘help us’. I’ve had that on my mind ever since but for some reason I’ve only just got round to writing about it.  A woman in the ward told him to ‘shut up’, women from here were imitating him and ended up shouting ‘we love you’.  I shouted to him to shut up at least once.  When I was upset a man shouted at me to shut up.  This place is awful.

All Over the Place

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

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

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

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

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

Tattle-Tale Post Review

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

Desperate enough that this should be seen.  I know reading a blog does not hold you legally accountable, but in a situation like this, any authority which hides behind that is corrupt and indecent, though I have heard politicians in my own country’s parliament use that for derision of a fellow member.  I, on the other hand, am completely powerless and illegally diminished.  Please do not plead that legal get out clause with me.

I just let my neighbours have this, as reliably as I could using Google Translate.  This is where I have always stood, and repeatedly said so, and written so, though what I have written has been legally ignored with the dishonest excuse I have already mentioned.  I always know now that, at least here in Bulgaria, there is a whole mafia, physically dangerous or seemingly benign, that is watching what I write as I write it.  My upstairs neighbours love making me aware that they are a part of it.  I also said to them, at the end of what I am going to quote, that the fact the were up there now doing what they are doing, and not with the police, is a crime.  I also said that they are so indecent and sadistic using my little Bulgarian knowledge against me for interventions and emotional and thought control, they have no right to exist.  That is strong and maybe they are doing it unconsciously, but I don’t think so.  I have told them before I have little Bulgarian and they use that against me, so they are conscious.  If they think it doesn’t matter that is something else, they are selfish and stupid.

I know that authorities, legal and political authorities and church authorities, in both countries, know my exact address.  I also know a lot of what you know you know from my blog, or from what used to be seen quite clearly as illegal hacking, but is now being presented to me, in my case, as a grey area, and communication to the police which their website says will receive an answer in a number of days not being replied to at all.  This is gross.  This is corrupt.  The only victims of stalking you are interested in are the ones already in the public eye either through celebrity or through tragedy which has allowed you to make their names household words.  It is completely corrupt.  The rest of us can lose our homes and anything else, and be slandered and misrepresented and violently harassed, and rot in a mental hospital if we squeak when you don’t lift a criminal and corrupt finger to deal with your fellow criminals with whom I have to share close breathing space.  If I say I’m being stalked, you say that belief is a sign of metal illness, but if someone with the public eye and ear says it, you have to jump to it, while covering your own stalking, and run your exposes on the people who have failed to cover their tracks.

This is the word of the Lord.  Thanks be to God.  (Truth, in other words.  The bible says, ‘thy word is truth’.  So I suppose all truth is God’s word.  [she has just brayed ‘yes.  I’m not moaning, but this is exactly the kind of mentally and emotionally and spiritually violent abortion I am talking about.n  nThis woman is a gloating, free, sadistic, mentally and spiritually abusive criminal.  And you are deliberately nurturing and protecting her.  This makes me hysterical with pain and she plays on that as well.  My whole mind knows she is smacking her vampire chops on my blood.  You know it too.  One of them keeps tapping at all of my sentences and attempts to connect at this point.  This is their usual behaviour.  My stats say I have under 10 readers most days and no one is ever seen to comment.  I know there is other stuff going on, you all communicate it.  There is something illegal and abusively manipulative going on with my stats here, whatever the source of that manipulation.  Either that or there is a real and indecent and self-protecting indifference, maybe even under instruction from unspiritual and illegal church authorities.  If I slag off my church authorities or any other, right or wrong, these bastards above me love it.  It is like gloatingly, cruelly, maliciously and sadistically saying ‘you’re not supposed to criticise your authorities’].  I hear the cruelty.  I hear the dripping blood from her mouth.  This hallelujah and dobre sayer, these violent people, physical and mentally – are they being accepted by church authorities as Christian?  You should tell me, one way or the other.  In Bulgaria they say over 90% of the population is Christian.  I don’t know if they are accepting the self-definition and possibly deliberately misleading assertions of criminals like these who remain free to violate and abuse, or not.  It is something I do need to know.)

(Edit note)  I would have put this at the end, but when I tried I couldn’t create a new paragraph.  I found this interview with a non-consensual CIA behaviour modification program survivor.  I found it under the brainwashing tag, at the moment it is the featured post on that board.  As I said in my comment to the blogger, the final sentence of the interview hit me with the power of a whole world, emotionally.  The survivor said, ‘there are no good guys to root for anymore’.  That could be turned round and people could say ‘but that is obviously not true and in this technological age some surveillance methods are necessary which people might say are an invasion of privacy and while tragic mistakes happen we try to avoid them, obviously, and put them right as soon as we know’.  I have to say, if you really believe that is a right and justified position, why are you trying to hide your communication and activity towards me?  National security?  I have no personal security anymore, so it can’t be that.  So I suppose that might make me a traitor, and if that is true, then I am obviously sorry and I feel it deeply.  But coping with believing that, in that case, all my beliefs about the wrongness of your surveillance programmes is wrong itself, leaves me vulnerable and disorientated.  That and you keeping me as a fugitive with nothing but your sunny smile and your benefits, your illegal and evasively irresponsible sticking plaster on this atrocious haemmorhage, but which makes you feel you are at least doing something and me feel could be turned round on me as my criminality at any moment that suited you, or that at least I should be obedient and grateful and co-operative.  This vampire woman is going for the emotional blood of my throat.  She is making me want to beg, and when you don’t answer, that is part of their triumph.  If they are not going to be punished for this, that is evil.  They are treating me like a seance spirit they have a right to tap at and call up.  And sometimes, usually, it is more violent than just tapping.  And she keeps the psychologically and emotionally contradictory vocalisations coming, and you all look pretty and misty and tearful into your cameras.  That is indecent.  She is vomiting ugliness all over me.  I’m covered in blood, and it isn’t holy, and I haven’t shed it.

I had a pastor once, or I read it somewhere, who said don’t believe the devil even if he speaks the truth.  Recently I’ve wondered why not, as that enables people to ignore people they don’t like, and that can be cruel and cutting.  I would modify it to don’t assume the devil has a right to hold you accountable, even if he speaks the truth.  And don’t let anyone working on his behalf believe they have that right either. They are using their loud tv now.  We all know how it works, it has been happening and witnessed long enough.  WE ALL KNOW HOW IT WORKS.  STOP PUTTING US AWAY FOR SAYING SO IF YOU FEEL THREATENED.  STOP DOING EVERYTHING TO US SHORT OF MURDER.  STOP TELLING US WE ARE FREE AND PUTTING US IN MENTAL HOSPITALS FOR TALKING ABOUT OCCULTISM AND STALKING WHILE YOU YOURSELVES KNOW AND ARE DOING IT, EVEN IF YOU WANT TO INTELLECTUALISE IT AND BACK IT UP WITH SCIENTIFIC SMART(IE)S AND DON’T WANT TO FACE THE FACT THAT THAT IS WHAT IT IS THAT YOU ARE DOING.(end of edit note)

Oh, there were several time gaps between the conveying of the following paragraphs because of several things, not least Google Translates volume limitation.  They were active throughout.  The first thing they do when they hear me go to bed is bang on my ceiling, after a few minutes, and sometimes wake me up intermittently the same way.  Whatever time of the day or night.  And they still bang and comment whern I go to the toilet.  I daren’t go, they are so emotionally manipulative I think it is me that is wrong and it is my fault.  The way she is braying at the moment is making me feel she is bloody with her own blood and that it is my fault.

you are violent criminal stalkers and I do not welcome the knowledge that you are stalking everything I read and watch and listen to and write on the internet at the moment that I am doing it.  You are more like abortionists than midwives.  What results is mutilated and what should have been is never seen or conceived in my own mind, such is the trauma or the enormity of your position that such stalking could possibly be right.  I would like to know what Christian leaders you are getting your advice from, because they also know I hold this position.  Even while I am writing this, I can hear your comments and reactions, and that also changes what might have been said.  You are interfering with my mind.  I am sure you must realise, but are too proud and selfish to say so, that this is wrong and complete inhumanity and fascism.  This is Google translate.  I hope you will understand.  With you in this situation it is all I am willing to use. Brainwashing cult.
Stop deliberately dropping whatever you deliberately drop on my ceiling.  It sounds as if it could be rosary beads, usually.  You are violently and dangerously superstitious, and abusing the graces of Christian symbolism.  Stop all of your emotional manipulation and alteration techniques, all of which I am familiar with.  Stalking my typing keeps you on top of being able to do that, and I can’t say anything of my own or the way I want to say it.  Therefore I will give you nothing.  You only have what has been violently stolen by others and given to you, or what you have violently stolen yourselves.  First you drop what you drop, then make me hear you moderating and modulating the emotional tone of what I and everyone else around here hears coming from you, while I know the reason you need to do that in the first place, you violent stalking criminals, is that you are second by second criminally accessing my computer and all that happens on it.  This is first degree metal abuse and torture.  If Jesus had a grave, he would turn in it. 

 I don’t care what you are dropping, you are doing it deliberately and for harassment aqnd you have no right.  Stop your torture tapping even as I write.  I assume you know you are stopping my ability to deal with illegtal eviction procedings in my only British home?  It is in my emails.  That is part of your emotional arsenal and spiritual abuse.  You are disgusting and indecent, all of you involved in this.  I have 10 days before I become homeless in the UK.  I am sure you must know this.  whether you do or not, there is no excuse for your activity.  You can abort my mental connections and emotional appropriateness but you cannot silence my words.  But I cannot deal face to face with dishonest and violent people who have power over my life with those connections cut.  You are trying to make me dependent, weak and powerless, whatever it costs me, and however criminal you yourselves have to be.  If you are Chistians I suppose you want to chalk up a triumph for your brand of Christianity and take the credit for any rescue.  That is warped. 

This is what I wrote before the two unscripted emotional safety outburst you just heard.  You savage, harassing woman, you do not have my permission to vocalise or communicate to me in any other such way that you are aligning yourself, in your sweet little mind only and with no benefit to me in changes in your actions and output, in agreement.  Such communication is a violent verbal assault and insult.  And don’t clatter your dishes at what you know I have written and am going to say.  I think this will make a good blog entry for today.  I’ve copied it all to email, as you know.  

Them Upstairs (Again) New Place

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Look at this.

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.

My Neighbours

They shout and bang all day, in teams and relays, I woke up relaxed out of a good dream early the other morning, before 6am, and coughed easily as I came round, and she immediately roused her sleeping partner and suddenly they were tapping at me.  I think it was, anyway, repetitive tapping, that seems to be the torture of choice at the moment, but it might have been a violent thud, but I can’t remember this time.  The couple of times I have tried to sleep in the silent period in the afternoon, between 2 and 4 pm, they have tapped over my bedroom every time sleep has come anywhere near me.  The first time he came running across my ceiling, about 3.30 pm, and shouted out violently, terrifyingly, outside,  leaving me feeling as if I had been clubbed about the head, and where before I was gaining clarity of thought, thoughts were coming and going and not going anywhere, not being resolved, thoughts were not thinkable.  It is the level of anger and hatred, as well as contempt for the law, from a man to a woman, that really does for me.  They are playing door opening and closing games as I go in and out, which I have interpreted as symbolically closing the door on me. They follow me around, cracking and banging over my space wherever I am in the apartment.  Today I thought, if these are shepherds and sheepdogs, they are the devils shepherds and sheepdogs.  She keeps saying hallelujah, so I’m really confused.  Is this how Orthodox Christianity works, or some other form of Christianity, or is she just using hallelujah to make the experience more torturous and disorientating?

I started writing this to say, in spite of all this, if and when I lose it, I still end up feeling as if I am the one who is supposed to say I am sorry.  When I write like this I believe that isn’t right, but it doesn’t stop me ending up feeling as if it is.  And every night I’m afraid to go to bed, because they wake me up tapping, every night.  Or stop me as I am going into sleep in the first place, in exactly the same way.  It is deliberate tapping.  I’m a sleep-deprived and frightened and furious wreck.  I know they are going to do it, because they always do.  Sleep is not allowed for me.  I’m so upset, and so tired, but I daren’t go to bed.  I’m so desperate.  They did it this afternoon as well.  And if I say anything they get worse and take worse advantage.

I called the police on Thursday, the afternoon he shouted violently, and the person on the other end said ‘I beg your pardon’ twice, in a way which felt pointed (my browser crashed here), and three male officers turned up at my door, one of whom spoke English, and while I was talking to him, every time I relaxed and my voice took on strength, one of the other two went running away with it, gabbling loudly over the top of me.  When I looked through my eyehole, before I opened the door, I saw they were standing there laughing, but as soon as they realised I was taking a good look, they stopped.  I felt humiliated on my own door step.  I said something about the gabbling over the top of me and how I was used to it here, but that from the police it was inappropriate, and the English speaker tried to reassure me it was nothing, but in the end I mimicked him back when he did it again, but obviously timidly and I wish I hadn’t, but he stopped.  If I had been confrontational and strong in my annoyance and anger, would they have made it an excuse to arrest me, as has happened or been threatened sometimes in England?

Anyway, they said I had to go to the station and make a report, which at the time was something I was willing to do, but I’ve decided to approach a solicitor instead with the whole situation and ask what a couple of clauses in my contract mean in terms of being able to expect support from my landlord.  I’ve already emailed my landlord, and they have said there is nothing they can do.  If that is true I need to try and help myself, but if it isn’t, I can do without the hassle.

PS I think I am also being mobbed on the Christianity tag in particular, by people writing ‘relevant’ things and taking some aspect of my bolg’s presentation and title.  When I last looked this post was flanked by two others, one saying ‘no man is an island’, and the other talking about taking every thought captive (right next to mine, ‘thoughts and observations of a certified nut!’?), talking about the ‘queen of science’, and I went out angrily this evening, to do some essential food shopping, saying I was going out ‘like the royalty I am’.  Coincidence?  The other day there was something by someone whose blog is something like ‘thoughts and observations of a dependent workman’, and I constantly feel as if people are calling me the lone ranger or something.  It is really undermining.  While I have been writing this PS the woman upstairs has started talking, and I have had a battery of browser crashes, especially right at the beginning.  I’m still wondering if they are hacking my computer upstairs.

PPS 1.47pm Bulgarian time. I was just thinking and feeling about Jason.  At least I think I was, because her voice intruded on it, that godawful voice, or is it just my godawful embarrassment about my godawful contribution to the situation?  But it is since she imposed her voice over mine, several times, and in the context of them banging into the most intimate sounds of my voice and places of my rest and sleep that this kind of thing happens over and over, my most intimate thoughts and feelings and deepest places of my being, open to or because of the things or people I am thinking about, are invaded by this voice.  This actual voice, not a memory or imagination or hallucination.  I have raged in the past when this kind of thing has happened.  Today I held back and decided not to.  It has taken me half an hour to decide that putting this fact on my blog is OK and not inappropriate.  As soon as I hit the ‘update’ button on this my computer crashed.

Edit note:  1.20 pm UK time.

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

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

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

I felt strong, right and enabled.

Then Peter Dobbie moved in for the kill.

He inflicted a gross enormity on my mind.

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

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

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

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

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

You savage, irresponsible, stupid bastard(s).

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

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

Etc.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Check It Out

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This post started out as a one liner.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who is this little savage, stripping people bare with her blasphemous imitation of speaking in tongues, stripping off the flesh then sounding pleased?  Coming on all offensive and aggressive, then going out tweeting purity?  She’s a bastard (biblical sense, if she is even that).

What point is she trying to make?

Why does she need to make it?

What are they trying to achieve by it?

Spiritual rape and armed robbery, it can only be.

They talk about ‘Twitter’ every time my mind and speech come strongly together, which probably means I have invalidated their deception and control at a deeper level and feel released from observing civil rules with stalkers and criminals.

This listen to mummy/daddy act they do.  It’s rubbish.  Mummy and daddy have told you the news.  Yeah, right!

9.30pm UK time.  the man who comes on treating really serious things as if they are a Talksport phone in has just come on, with the latest headlines before Hardtalk, and he said ‘turd’ for ‘third’, and talked about Vladimir or Vladivostok which consequently, deliberately or not, sounded like ‘bloody’.

BBC World News.  Making up emails or reading out plants.

10pm Jamie Robertson just said ‘spike’ as if he was spitting the word ‘spite’.  I get really upset at this.  I keep finding myself with the same expression on my face and attitude of mind (I suppose) and body as the News of the World guy who was done for phone hacking/bugging.

I was just watching BBC World News again.  It is the only British based news channel I can get on my television.  It’s about 9.30 am UK time.  (edit note: I think I’ve got it.  These people need a catastrophe to make full use of what they are doing and the way they stalk me.  If it isn’t a catastrophe what they do jars with the mind much more.  They absolutely love it.  They have faced this kind of thing so many times, much of the concern and grief must be acted.  Like charity fatigue, it must be, surely.  They are no different from the rest of us.  Just criminals.  Da Boga.  Rasbiram. 2.17 pm UK the woman sounds angry, and she is lashing language in a reversal, psychologically, and because I know it’s happening and the malice and criminality behind it, I find it intimidating and terrifying.  That is how I am supposed to find it.  It is open contempt.  She just slipped Premier in.  Look at her.  Butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.  As my grandmother used to say.  And she knew.  And I think now that she knew because it was happening when she was alive. Nice one.  ‘Let’s kit’ followed by a disciplinarian ‘who is in control of . . .?’  And I think they are deliberately coming on acting drugged and half asleep.  On the basis that they are opposing the strongest people they stalk in the most appropriate way to hurt them, making them look out of it and mental or hypnotised and psychologically clubbed, as they are, and traumatised, because they know that you become what you look at, so they put it out, these most of them acting trained people, as a blanket policy for everything they do.  They have just hit a surface, like batting a fly away.  The programme was ‘Impact’.  She went out on ‘engineers’, slipped in like a date rape drug.  John Coles and John Knight at St Barnabas Church in Finchley are engineers, and that is where this most painful part of my life started.  And my bastard, sabotaging neighbours, trying to silence me but not going to the police.  They must be criminals in other ways, as well as over this.  They just banged at the end of that sentence.  She shouts something that sounds like shut up as soon as my tv goes on, and interjects at points, taking control, because at the moment she can because I think she can.  I’ve just said I’m going to the police, but they let me down in my last place, and they have let me down for years, in the UK.  It’s the right thing to do, it’s what I should do, but they don’t do what they should do, and they intimidate me and make it obvious that they despise me, if I get the wrong ones, and I always seem to.  It can’t just be me.  Peter Dobbie who has just come on, his voice moved and warmed to my feeling of self-doubt while I was writing this.  They talk in a place just out of the reach of letting you feel.  It is policy.  I think I heard it, but am not sure, in Bob Geldof on the Robert Elms Show, and he looked very sheepish and caught out the next day on The One Show.  I have both recorded.  This next man just sped up his speech in a tongue lashing way to talk about ‘shutting down’, and they keep shouting.  I’m not the only one who shouldn’t have to put up with that.  For me it feels like an accusation because I shout and become hysterical.  Everybody who communicates anything also knows this is true, but they leave me in it.  That is treacherous and devilish.  For me and everyone else they do it to.  And we are many.  They are shouting over, projecting.  It’s spiritual interference and molestation, and my neighbours are feeding on it, and on me, like vultures.  Not like disciples of Christ feeding on His body and blood.  This is different.  End of edit note.)

I am so much under siege, it is the rubbish, and not the story, that I tune into.  I’m terrified of it so sensitised to it.  What I am really terrified of is the way I am being treated where I am, my reactions to it and the total contempt and hatred they are met with.  I think that is called rejection, in this case aggravated rejection. The so-called Christians upstairs are doing psychological interrogation and appear to be insisting that I go to them on their terms.  Every time I concentrate on something she shouts hallelujah, really aggressively from deep down, not just in her voice, or someone bangs.  They go between all those things and whining, if I say anything, she will get on top of it with the exact opposite of what she hears in my voice. If my voice is strong she sweets and tweets, and if I sweet and tweet she comes back with something that sounds really awful.  I think we are at war!  I coughed today.  I feel really inhibited about coughing, because they always put a sound on top of it, strike a surface or comment or something.  So first I coughed with deliberate insistence, then I coughed the cough I wanted to cough.  They immediately struck a surface, and I went wild.  I have said they are using spiritualism, I have said they are thugs, I have called them interrogators and Satanists, I know and they know they are using interrogation and torture techniques and violence.  I have repeatedly said if they have a problem they should go to the police instead of doing what they are doing, and that the fact that they don’t makes them criminals, especially since they continue in what they are doing and have not apologised.  She speaks a bit of English, I don’t know how much.   Enough to confront me with a ‘how dare you, behave yourself’ look and say ‘what’s the matter?  Shut up!’  I don’t know if she has more than that.  She put on a head-cocking show outside my apartment the other day.  I think now she did it on purpose and that she deliberately pretended she didn’t know I was there.  But I saw her husband/boyfriend, and he was acting like a very naughty thug, who knew what he had been doing and that he had been doing it deliberately and was a bit embarrassed that I had actually seen him.

But anyway, I’ve started writing to complain about BBC World News again.  As I said, it was about 9.30 am when I started this post (hello, nice to make contact, I love writing, the sun is shining and it makes me feel really happy).  If I knew her name I would use it, she is Indian or somewhere around there, she has long hair (can I say it as it is?) and an expression that looks as if she has tasted something horrible, like a lemon or something.  Maybe that is because of me.  When I first put the tv on (it was on for about 20 minutes)  they did their usual strong ‘OFF’ bit, followed it up with something that sounded like ‘schitz’, which I immediately took as a kind invitation then felt annoyed and said to myself, maybe out loud, I can’t remember, ‘I might if you get my name right’.  But I continued to listen and as I did I found myself allowing the changes in my perception and that the thing they said was the thing they meant and not the interpretation I put on it, and I felt ashamed of having refused the label, because the label got my attention and accepting it and the change in my perception, I felt, went together.  Wanting and accepting the change in perception depended on me accepting the label, at least at that time in that context, and maybe always.  I wasn’t watching at the time, I was making breakfast, which here is late, we are two hours ahead.  So I wasn’t overwhelmed with sensory information.

I came to sit down and saw who it was, and continued to watch and think whatever I wanted to think, partly that her accent modulated between levels of  ‘poshness’, thinking that was an annoying thing they had got from – well, I don’t know, now I think of it.  But her voice changed a little, and she said something I’ve forgotten now but picked up from a Bulgarian estate agent’s website.  Since they use a lot of this in definite clusters it seems obvious to me this was deliberate again, I had no hesitation in recognising it as so.  I’ve remembered.  It was ‘and yet’.  It sticks out to me because it is a slightly poor translation.  When it is used on the website it usually means something like ‘also’.  When she said it she rasped and cleared her throat in what seemed to me to be a pointed and significant way, and it seems obvious to me it was a coded recognition that I was watching, either because they have been physically informed by some kind of commercial network employee, or through some sort of psychic sensing.

But I thought something about it today which I haven’t thought before, and even as I approach the thought it seems ridiculous and an embarrassing thing even to have thought.  Just crazy paranoia.  But I’ve often felt a bit sorry for them because I’ve thought perhaps they don’t know anything about me and are just reading what they have been given to read, but this time I thought she was telling someone that I was watching and asking for ‘appropriate’ material.

She did what they always do: ‘here’s one, here’s one, here’s one, here’s one’  with bits of my information, then she went out on an aggressive, psychologically violent and aggressive and provocative rush of words, leaving me feeling as if she was shouting at me or telling me off right into my face and wanting to shout back.  I did, after being afraid and trying to resist it for a few seconds.  But if I’m going to feel better, and maybe if I’m going to be able to stop them, if there is a level of psychic stuff involved, I’ve got to stop telling myself not to do it and just let it go, straightaway, and not be afraid.  That is how I feel.  I think they are relying on me being afraid and inhibited.  It might not be psychic at all on any level, it might just be abuse.

I was thinking as well, yesterday, that Peter Dobbie comes on and he is very insistent and serious in an almost fatherly way about ‘correcting’ the things I have said that are ‘wrong’ or that I have ‘misunderstood’.  Like a teacher.  So that seems to be an acknowledgment.  That is obvious.  Why?  And he shouldn’t be doing it.  I really don’t think he should.  And who is he doing it for?  Me, or other viewers?  Is it a public image control thing, for the channel?

Got to go to the post office today.  I’ve got some mail waiting for me.  I’ve got some things I’m waiting for, so I hope it is them.

I hate failing and being humiliated, anywhere.  I asked myself today why I am hanging on here so much, since I knew I hadn’t come to stay forever and that it is only rented.  I realised it is because I have no faith for the future, that if I go out of here on a low and with things really bad, it is going to follow me as it always has.  Not because it is me, but because people are pursuing me with it.  Robb Thompson, wily old codger, says if things are always bad for you in relationships, guess what the common factor is – you.  I’ve never been able to swallow that.  I’ve tried, but I’ve had to go into a ‘yes, he’s right’ mode to do so.  It is actually a quite insolent and contemptuous thing to confront someone with, I think.  People learn from experience.  In my case I’ve decided if things are always bad for me in relationships, someone got there before me and queered my patch.  Guess what the common factor is?  The slander and persecution of my stalkers.  I might be wrong.  I might just be in the wrong place, but I don’t think so entirely.

OK that’s enough.  I’m going to go about my life today.  I don’t know what is going on upstairs, but every time I pause to think about how I want to say something or how I want to change it, as soon as I go to try, they speak.  It’s freaky.  I’m not sure what is causing it, but it is invasive, and when I apply myself to it I feel guilty about resenting it because I think the whole thing might just be a manifestation of my bad conscience about what is happening between us.  I don’t know if they have any authority from anyone actually behind them in this, I wonder if it is church, I wonder if it is mafia, I wonder if it is all sorts of things, or if they are just using things they have picked up from the media about how to keep me in check.  Even with the Japanese crisis the media are still contriving to present it to make me believe reports to the police and mental health authorities are being submitted about me and I’d be best to watch my step.  But it feels as if they are not saying it to me but about me, that is what is most frightening.

I know who some of the people are who read this, and I think they are very unkind, cynical and irresponsible, knowing this, not to communicate with me properly and directly.  They see me fearing this and asking these questions and saying these things, and no concrete communication is made, just things that leave me feeling guilty and sheepish and disempowered because they are not actually given to me.  In fact some of them, even in parliament, play the same game.

I know they use code.  I had Something For The Weekend on last night and there was a clip about a counter-terrorism thing and I thought maybe the reason they get so upset is that it is code designed for counter-terrorism purposes.  But then I think, ‘so what if it is?  I’m not close enough to be in a position to say anything that will be harmful’.  So why is it that every time I talk about someone, they come on looking guilty and caught out and defensive, or angry?  Is it unrelated or related?  Is it something to do with me, or is it just trickery, media and parliamentary?  And church, I suppose.  Should I have refrained from writing this when I was confronted on a very strong feeling level by an image of David Cameron in distress just as I was about to write about code? 

I know the answer, the answer has to be ‘yes’.  This is my rationale:  my computer is being hacked;  David would have known I was about to write about code but stopped; because I had stopped (and they even seem to know the things that go on in my head, so he would have known about the image as well and been moved by the fact that I allowed it to stop me) he would have sought me out directly to help me; because I didn’t stop, he won’t directly offer his help; if I hadn’t written, he still might not have offered his help, and I would still be stuck on my own with the burden of what I am thinking; he has tried so hard to make it clear in the past (this is part of my rationale) that he wants to help me, I feel so guilty, and because I am bound in my situation by this awful couple who physically invade my every thought, we could not possibly connect.  Their silences after the invasions make me anxious, and that leads to a schizo moment where I am deeply convicted that everything I have just said is completely wrong.  Are they praying, are they holding a seance, do they, or what the hell is going on here?  This woman goes between sweet and acid just to keep control, and I can’t take it, it is making me really hysterical.  I think she is impersonating my as well.  I’ve had that a lot here.  I’ve just realised that is probably why I feel hysterical, and that it might be empowering the manifestations, and I’m not sure what is empowering what, as far as the psychological interrogation is concerned.  There are moments when I feel really happy about it and really bad for not accepting their love and friendship.  But if I think about it, that has to be a media driven feeling, even a fellow blogger driven feeling, from what I have seen on the Christianity board.  I wonder if the terror they inspire with the foul nature of their interrogation is what drives and empowers the ‘manifestations’.  Every time I get strength, they speak or bang or adjust their position.  It is like being sat on by gigantic toads.  It’s all I ever see these people do when I am out as well.  They never give themselves, it is always observe, mimic, adjust, observe, mimic, adjust.  I’m sure I should find it funny and endearing, but it feels like some sort of demonic dance.  And Oh God it is frightening.  And the interjections, the sweet, clear as a bell interjections.  She makes me feel it is me that is wrong.  But I’m not harassing, I’m reacting.  I feel really groggy and tired and sick.  I was so afraid earlier at something that happened I was afraid to go out, they sound as if they could hurt me.  I’ve felt like this for ages, both stripped and embarrassed under their gaze, and afraid and angry.  I think she has lots of people in with her and they are keeping silent, and acting as if in a seance, or a prayer meeting resisting me, the devil.  Otherwise why the banging?  A single, intermittent sharp rap?  I first came across that in hospital, from a male nurse with a mug.  I just coughed, and the woman talking to Peter Dobbie acted as if she was trying verbally to seduce my neighbours.  CliveNyrie was on a bit ago, and he went through all the stuff I’ve basically aid about him being an actor.  He did the lot, slightly spaced reporter, raga, distinuished actor, he went through them all.  At every break the woman upstairs shouts afresh, almost subliminally, but just enough for me to hear.  it is spiritualism with violence.  I know Bulgarian authorities are reading this.  Please help me.  These are criminals.  If I leave they will do it to someone else.  Me leaving should not be your answer. Please get this Christianese shouting spiritualist and her violent friends off of me.  That is the right and lawful thing for you to do.

Peter Dobbie is affecting a facial twitch when he starts, I saw him deliberately put it on, in his session that just ended at 3.30 pm.  After that he and his fellow staff were channeling me, I watched it all, I saw it all, my thoughts, my emotions.  At the end he seemed as if he was in tears, like me, after my last paragraph, or close to, like me, then he paused, talked about cut off, and there were no tears in his voice.  Every time I get my own emotions she cries out or strikes a surface up there, and people across the way shout out as well.  I feel as if the whole community is ganged up on me, and I have no idea how many of these satanic animals are ganged up in the flat above me.  And I daren’t go and see.  They are pelting me with sound, both vocal and banging, from every corner of their apartment.  This has to be wtichcraft, and if it is Christians praying against my wishes in a way which is obviously harassment, I have been taught in church that that is also witchcraft.  So these Christain bastards who set out to manipulate me and make me feel guilty, are they now going to be true to their own teaching, or keep insisting I should be grateful for what is happening here?  As for Peter Dobbie, it seems to me I have given him this power with me, and I would like to take it back.  I’ve had some emails from Derek Acorah’s thing recently, after years of occasional emails to him which have never been answered and I have never received anything else from them, suddenly they are emailing me.  I’m just saying it as a fact.  I can’t put emotions in it.  what they are doing upstairs is taking that ability from me.  I would like to be angry and I think I am.  And the people upstairs, I find their behaviour disgusting.  When I let myself connect with that disgust I feel as if I begin to come back to myself.  At least, I did just now.  They started moving around a lot and moving chairs, while I was writing about Derek Acorah.  I don’t want to have to connect with these people as people that I love.  Their behaviour is appalling, violent, tormenting.  If these people are Christians and right in what they are doing . . . I feel as if they are.  Every time I come to a stopping place they bang.  The weather forecast has just come on and someone rapped again, and this is the pattern.  It will happen again in a few minutes as well, when the next change happens.

Tim Willcox just came on with an ‘I’m the man’ stance, and shed it as he went into his (all the right words escape me) script.  Then he talked about an ‘injection’ of something into something, and he turned away on the word ‘injection, and turned back again.  ‘Who is in control?’  The law says I should be.  These people are psychologically abusive and criminal stalkers, whatever their motivation and however they feel about it.  And however I do.  They are whipping with their speech patterns in the same way that Bulgarian folk singing women do.  And I feel certain they are courting my neighbours.  I break away and they (BBC World News) seem to try to reconnect.  Tim Willcox is a smooth savage.  They all are.  Their image with me is not what they care about, and they attack all the time.  I could kill him, he is that violent.

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.

BBC World News again.

I’ve had a really rough day today.  Every day is rough, my neighbours never let up, but today was worse.

I said a lot of things through Google Translate, which I think is sometimes not that accurate anyway.  I also started to draft a post which I didn’t finish because my poor broken open, fragile mind and psyche had another shotgun hallelujah screeched into it by mad motormouth neighbour-mother. I even told her today that in my opinion she needed either to go to the police or get psychiatric treatment, and that I didn’t believe in psychiatry, just to emphasise how extreme her behaviour is and how much I felt she needed to take some action.  She often acts as if she is out of her mind.  And I don’t say that kind of thing, so something has broken down in me somewhere.

After saying that if they pray and also harass their prayers are also illegal, I switched BBC World News on and it was a special news report on prisoners of an uprising.  I don’t know if it was Libya or not, to show how little I was able to concentrate.  I remember one of the reporters said people were screaming and that it was one of the worst things he had ever seen, and that he had seen some pretty bad things.  I thought how often I react to reporters as if they are freshers with no relationship with people they interview and no understanding between themselves and the interviewee, even if they fight on screen like cat and dog.  I noticed the ears of one of the guys, they seemed to be translucent and letting through a red light from behind.  I’ve never seen ears like that.

But I was fagged out and tired.  I had just fought a battle with my neighbours for my legal right to not be harassed and felt I had made a positive step forward in asserting my right to live here in peace.  But I was tired and questioning myself and, while the television was on, I was working through the questions and how much of what I had said (ranted, thrown across the line) I had meant and was right and needed to be said, and I wasn’t really listening, it was just there, a relaxing, comforting hum in the background while I sorted my mind and feelings out.  I was calming down and feeling more settled and relaxed and happy with things (some people would say I shouldn’t have been, but that isn’t the point of this post) when Jamie’s tone started to take on significance and he emphasised ‘slow down’ or ‘slowing down’, and I looked up into his eyes feeling my attention had been forced onto him and away from my own thoughts and he had lifted up one of his fingers and was doing a hypnosis type movement with it, in front of the eyes, and because I was watching and because of everything else that has already gone, I thought he was doing it at me.  He was doing it at the camera anyway, obviously deliberately, I believe, with me watching, and I felt affected by it.  Whether it was real in intention or just a humorous or mocking caricature, it made me angry because it was deliberate, and I hadn’t wanted my attention forced onto him in that way, I needed the space I had to resolve my own thoughts in the situation I am in, 2000 miles away sitting on my sofa in a pain-filled violent harassment situation.  He was deliberately calling attention and short-circuited the process.

He said some other stuff, about someone not being welcome in the situation anymore, and because of the violent call on my attention I felt confused because I was still with my situation here and had been forcibly removed in my mind from it against my will and criminally, I believe, so I thought he was talking about here.  He put his hands up and opened them out like a book, which is another part of the gesture cluster, and I was just getting angrier, then he smiled as if he recognised a presence (whether it was an act or not I don’t know, it seemed real), held the camera with his eye then jerked away and hit the desk with his papers, which I always find really crude and violent as a form of command or territory marking, and called on his interviewee.  What is that about?  I thought it was a psychic thing.  He was using material from my Google Translate session and from my unpublished post.  I don’t understand the gesturing now, I thought it was a psychic thing, but maybe it is just bad handling of a transition into an interview, saying my stuff which he shouldn’t be accessing and defiantly holding the camera in a face off.  It’s still criminal.  It’s still a crime, using what I haven’t even published yet or never would have.  I’m not sure where he was getting the Google Translate stuff from, but the draft post must have been through WordPress or straight off of my computer.

I was so angry and outraged and afraid and offended and disturbed, I started to hear voices.  Ghosting voices, behind me, like the woman shouting hallelujah, but they seemed to be more in my ears.  I don’t know, it was just frightening and disturbing and horrible.  After a few minutes I shouted at her to shut up because it was 12.30 am here and there shouldn’t be any noise after 10 pm.  Then I thought, ‘is it her, it might not be’.  I thought about what was happening, how it seemed to be whispers insistent and crowding around my ear, and decided it was an occult manifestation brought on by the psychologically and spiritually violent and illegal thing which had just been done to me.  It just occurs to me now, as well, that it was my sister’s birthday yesterday, 9th March, and just like Jools Holland held a concert in my birth city on my birthday, Derek Acorah did a show on my sister’s birthday, so there might have been an occult connection there as well, as well as all the straight forward illegal stalking ones.  My sister has been harassed by satanists, who have told her so, if I remember it right.

But he just stayed there, Jamie, staring down the camera, just going on and on, and I was thinking ‘no, this isn’t OK, this is illegal and spiritualist stalking and you have just broken into my mind and life and home by your use of my material’, he laughingly talked about a ‘grievous and irreparable breakdown’, which was relevant to my post subject which is still in draft form, and went out on another laughed ‘grievously’, and apart from anything else I felt mocked and teased about something which, to me, is really serious.

The sports report came on and at one point there was a picture of a group of sportsmen screaming a psychologically disarming warrior type screech, and the presenter came straight backed insistently facing off into the camera instructing someone, on the wave of that yell, to ‘remember when’.  That isn’t good.  That is bad.  I can’t find the terminology for it at the moment, I don’t think I’m imagining it this time, I’ve just been assaulted by another yell from my neighbour as soon as I started to write this, at 2.30 in the morning.  But it isn’t good, what happened in the sports report, and as part of the psychological stalking pattern which is part of and enabled by access to facts and people, I know it’s criminal, whether people will acknowledge that to me or not.  Or do anything about it or not.  And they should.  They are commanding me as if they have a right, more or less saying, ‘you did this and you did that and we have a right to resist you’, but it appears to release something in the studio which is what I think they are after.  It is obviously something they like.  But they savage me to get it.  And all the banging and tapping, obviously and surreptitiously, is grossly offensive and distracting and psychologically violent, for those targeted and whose attention is held as it is visited on them, territory marking.

They were using Tiger Woods as well.  I feel really sorry for him, we all saw how they treated him and I recognise in him the same signs of having been deliberately broken down and crushed, as a person with an open faith/religious position involving a strong moral stance, and left wanting to beg and plead with those who have crushed him as if he needs their permission, as if they glory in making him feel his salvation and redemption, as well as their ‘well, we sympathise but it serves you right’ attitude, are in their hands, that I do in myself.  When I see that it upsets me and makes me really angry.  I want to cry for him and pull them off.  There is something in me, I want to physically attack them and force them away from him when I see them letting him express that extremity of pain and and brokenness and apparently be offering no sympathy or support.  They have no right to humiliate people like that.  Who are these fans that he owed the contents of his entrails to?  If he doesn’t know them, they don’t exist, they were made up for him to make him grovel.  If he does know them and they think it was any of their business, they are probably wrong, in my opinion.  I don’t think it should have been public fare at all, it should have been contained and I can’t see why there had to be a public apology.  The only people he owed anything to were his wife and their relatives.  But then maybe I’m just misjudging the media again.  As a if not the top golfer at the time, if it hadn’t been formalised publicly it would have leaked, which might have been worse).

I’ve thought several times about the sentence from ‘Field of Dreams’, about a baseball player called Babe Ruth, I think, where it says, ‘if we build it, he will come’.  I think he was dead and they wanted his spirit in the place they built for him.  That is what they are doing with – me?  Someone said just because you are in it it doesn’t mean it is about you.  There are lots of people I know ‘in it’.  Is it about us all or is it just general harassment?  Why are we all in it? But more to the point for me, why am I and my family in it, who have no public platform or role?  Many of the lookalikes and namesakes I see – have a working role in a place I have been associated with.  But some are just ordinary people I have met, very quickly after I have met them, placed in a cluster which makes it obvious to me, if to no one else.

I’m wondering if they’re holding a prayer vigil or something, in the apartment upstairs.  I just heard a tapping as I was working with the last paragraph, at ‘that’ point in my engagement and concentration, and I stopped and listened and inwardly examined and challenged it, and the woman coughed in a way which is obviously not my imagination.  I don’t want it, if that is what it is (I swear someone just cried out hallelujah).  They won’t go to the police.  It’s harassment (another cough).  I don’t even get my own head space and work space in the middle of the night, if they have decided to hold some sort of vigil.  (Pause to think and challenge and reject my feeling of responsibility to go and knock on their door and see what is wrong and if and how I can help, countered by another cough).  It makes me feel as if I am being horrible and unmerciful, but they have set this in motion themselves, I don’t think we understand each other, as far as I am concerned everything they are doing is illegal (I type in response to her nasty chav noise) and if they won’t go to the police instead of harassing and invigilating I can’t see what can be done even if – no forget it, I am not responsible. They only want to make me feel that way.  If they wanted help they would initiate finding it themselves.  It appears they obviously have not and therefore probably do not.  So on that horrible derisive sound which makes me feel my whole night is going to be punctuated by these outbursts, I’m going to see what I can achieve by way of sleep in bed.  At least these days I have decided I’m not just going to stay hysterically glued to my sofa and fall asleep on that, I do actually go to bed in my bedroom, which I think is better.  They are making me feel like a really bad person for standing up for myself and not doing their work for them.  Yeah, whatever.  I should show some concern.  It feels like the most appropriate thing to do.  It also feels like the most inappropriate thing to do, at this time of night.  I should shout ‘I’m sorry’ or something.

I’m sorry, I’m not going to, I’m going to bed.  If the news people’s (again) suggestion that the situation is too broken down and I’m not welcome anymore and they are going to get me out is true (they do this all the time) so be it.  I’m really upset by it and feel very insecure but/and I’m going to bed.  Schnor-di-schnor.  Goodnight 🙂  (Woah, very resistant sounding bang, followed up by a muffled ‘hallelujah’ when I started writing this comment.  Their hallelujahs are an illegal and criminal, at this time of nght, expression of witchcraft – not to mention communist-style torture – or have I done that already?

Different streams first.  I’m downloading the programme. 

I wanted to hear what was happening really early on and tried to break in the middle of an advert or song, so I tuned into the live stream for a second.  I heard a woman speaking, it sounded like Lizzie Crowe.  The downloaded stream is different and the woman’s voice isn’t there.  On the downloaded stream John says Lizzie is having a day off because she works on Saturday.

I’m wondering how long this has been happening and how many other stations do the same thing.  Maybe that is why I don’t get many detailed responses to what I write, because the downloaded stream is different from what you get when you tune in and I sound either as if I am lying or am hallucinating. 

I tried to upload an mp3 the other day.  I got a message saying that kind of file is restricted for security reasons.  I have the space upgrade and it is one of the allowed file types.  I think for all of these people the industry, or their place in it, might be more important than the truth.  I think if I tried to tell anyone, including Saints Tommy Boyd and Michael Mish, they would pretend they didn’t know what I was talking about.  I left some comments on Michael’s youtube account (mmish2) on the video ‘monkey forest’ which I thought were obviously from me (we corresponded for a year and spoke on the phone a few times, and I felt he was the person who both restored my sanity and ability to stand up for myself, and who kept me sane.  I felt he was a really good and beautiful and wise and sensitive friend.  I still do), but he sent a note asking if he knew me from somewhere and has blocked me.  They would blank me and treat me like an idiot.  They have done it before, many people do.  Tommy emerges with a post when he wants to comment on one of mine and make an impression, if he is the writer.  Last night the comments were still there on Michael’s account.  He might remove them now.  He might change his account name.  I hope he doesn’t, and if he loves me I hope he forgives me and re-establishes the relationship he said was over.  Premier, at least for one, appears to be dealing in deception of a kind I wouldn’t have thought anyone would and didn’t know anyone did, and definitely not Christians.  

I have no friends.  It is an illusion, and I know now how abusive it has been, and how murderous.  I have people I love, but they are not friends.  They aren’t even brave or honest and are possibly illegal though they posture as respectable.  John Pantry is nasty and needling, as well as criminal, and so are the people who hit me with flurries of computer and application crashes at significant times, like now.  I’m now recording both streams.  They know I’m into the performing arts and are trying to pass it off and make me value it as a creative response to a crisis, or at least make me believe that other people will value it on those terms.  I believe that is another particularly devious and abusive aspect of their deception.  The men were laughing and jeering.  My recorder crashed or was crashed and I have lost my live stream recording, and I got confused and also wiped my download.  John is savage.  He tracks what I’m writing as I write it and talks with jeering, exalted ‘serves you right tones’ when something I am doing goes wrong.

They are into impersonation as much as the secularists and impersonate mental health and police authorities and adopt how dare you tones, look at what you’ve done tones.  Because of what they have already done to me and allowed to be done to me, maybe, and in some cases definitely, even instructed people to do to me, I feel hysterical and as if they are grabbing and attacking me physically, from a distance, one that allows them to mock and make me believe they are getting away with it and that no one cares or will hold them to account, because that is what has been involved in my ‘management’ and ‘treatment’ so far, for over a decade, while the mental health authorities have been involved and utilised.

They are trying to make me believe no one will believe me or care or think it is significant even if they do.  They are trying to make sure that even if they have to pay for what they have done and are doing, I myself will remain damaged in my mind and emotions for the rest of my life for opposing them, God’s anointed.  That is what this kind of leader from their kinds of churches do and major on, it is how they teach.  I’ve spent most of my life, about 40 years, exposed to this, closely and with very few breaks.  It is vicious, malicious, cruel and deceitful.  It is actually murderous.  They know I understand the word ‘fantastic’ and am into etymology, and they are teasing me with it in its literal sense, that it is beyond belief.  It is spiritual molestation equivalent in tone to a verbal guided fantasy of sexual molestation, and they are dangling in front of me the teaching I have most deeply and readily embraced and basically saying ‘hurt us and you lose this’.  I’m talking about their teaching, but I hear my own, very strong, sexually referential undertones just as obviously as everyone else will, and they have blocked and accused me at that level for years.

At the beginning John prayed a prayer about the trust of children (I wrote this paragraph first, I now realise how deep and monstrous is their betrayal and abuse of trust).  But little children don’t trust.  They don’t have that awareness when they are first born.  When they do come to awareness, they often still don’t trust.  They just take things for granted as they are.  You could say an abused child trusts, but they don’t really, they just don’t know anything different.  I was an abused child, and frightened and miserable, but I didn’t know it could be different.  Even if I experienced short periods of difference with other families, I didn’t know it could be different for me.

I think trust is often in spite of and is more an adult thing.

These people will pay for every life they sabotage.  I pray God will hurt them for what they have done and are doing, as criminals, especially those who hold office and responsibility, always should be hurt and have to pay for what they have done to their victims.  They say I can be free and healed.  I believe that.  But they have no right, as abusers and criminals, to offer me that.  That is abusive and torturous in itself.  I want them to suffer the consequences the law says they should.

I started to pray when I couldn’t bear what I was listening to anymore.  At that point John said ‘put that sherry down, it’s too early’.  I took it as aimed at me, and was frightened and upset.  It was aimed at someone, and was symbolic in use.  They don’t talk straight and accountably.  Most of their audience is a victim of deception, and some of us helpless victims of their assumed stupidity and abuse because the other part of their audience wouldn’t believe that of them.  They help the violent and abusive against me.  Psychologically they help people to extort from me, their own violent members into whose hands I have fallen or been deliberately delivered.  I’m fed up of wide boy pastors and people coming on clean cut while they criminally work me over and take everything they can.

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.

You’re An Embarrassment

You news people, you irresponsible, provocative bastards, you are an embarrassment to the public that relies on you.  Especially the vulnerable ones like me that you torture with your smug craftiness and lying hypocrisy until we feel we have to say the things you know but refuse to take responsibility for.  I wish I knew your name, you have a face that looks like an arse that needs smacking.  Ben Brown.  You people have been outraging people with your untruthfulness and linguistic trickery all day.

And since you are BBC World News, and without Unlock VPN we can’t get tv news from home, why don’t we hear more from home news?  And why can’t people in the UK watch what we do get?  So they can’t see the unbalanced, sickly crap?

And someone is deliberately crashing my computer, and that is an act of violence, and so was your smirking little sports girl, smirking over number ones and number twos.  That is completely molestation, and everything you do is incitement.  Why are you closing your poor little eyes, Mr News Presenter, as if you can’t cope with the world or anyone who wants to access you, and probably especially me, with the pointedness of your insults.  How dare you set your faces against anyone in your audience.  I’m not the person you are speaking to when you call a fellow reporter by name, so stop eyeballing the camera and shouting someone else’s name at the people watching you.  I’m not a dog.  You treat me like one.  You’re the dogs.  You are the dangerous, dishonest and violent ones.  You.  You’re scum.  You are filthy dogs and scum, both men and women.  Decent people hate you.  Decent people like me.  Ban Ki Moon talks about journalists being threatened with guns and knives.  I’m not surprised.  You play the innocents but you are anything but, with your illegitimate, illegal mind games.  you’re shooting words, one of them ‘witch’, and you’ve been talking about a sportsman smashing a tv set, and you smirk into the camera as you pelt me with your verbal needles and violence and incitement.  But you did all the last bit, about 2 minutes of it, off camera, and came back on looking all innocence.  Go to hell, all of you.  I join my voice with that of Gadaffi, even if I can’t spell his name.   You, the news, the politicians, have exploited him as much as you have me.  Then you try to make out you don’t understand why he is acting like a madman, if he is, it is only a western prejudice and convenience to say so.  What about the west and its war crimes, Mr Cameron?  Locking people up as mental patients without telling them why they are really there?  What about western media and its straightforward, criminal and smutty stalking?  You bastards, you are liars and hypocrites.  If you’re so keen on democracy, why can’t you allow others to choose a different form of government, without sabotaging and brainwashing them to think our way is better.  In practice, you people are the first to say it is not, because you reserve the right to be called the experts and to say the general populace does not understand.  And although we don’t have the death penalty here or openly recognise torture, you farm them out to other countries, and even practice them yourselves.  You have broken my heart today and every day you do this kind of thing.  You are so obviously, savagely, criminally, contemptuously dishonest, and you don’t care.  You spit in our faces.  You are liars, you are dogs, and I hate you.  Right now I could not hate you more.  What you’ve done and have been doing is monstrous, and so is what you have allowed.  This is just opportunistic attention shifting and another attempt to unite us against someone else you choose to call alien.  Why can’t you be decent?  Why can’t you make us a nation to be proud of?  Why do you lie and betray us?  Why do you make us want to turn our faces from you in shame?  Why do you let violent men rule over women who don’t even understand their language, so you can get on and do all this, and add your own forms of violence?  The world’s leaders, including those of the Middle East, should rise as one and condemn you.  I think most of us probably know you’re feeding us something disgusting.  Maybe in the UK news people are more voluble about saying so.  I am ashamed of you today, and I wish I didn’t know you.  I really mean that.  To me Gadaffi looks more bewildered than anything.  The photos you are putting out of him, he looks a lot like David Shearman.  You’ve done a lot of this.  i hate you for this, and your news and approach is not in my name.  I’m crying and I want to scream.  I have no one to grieve with over this, just as I had no one to grieve with when they killed Saddam Hussein, and before that when you first went to war with Afghanistan and Iraq.  I wish so much that I did, and I wish it could be you.  And your shouting weather woman who shouts so provocatively then talks about things being quiet, she and the others who do what she does, newsreaders and all, are hateful devils full of contempt.  I think Peter Dobby just said we can get the BBC World news in America, and I think that isn’t true.  And he just said took in the Bulgarian way, for here, that they often do.  Why don’t you just take a knife and carve bits out of my heart with it?  It’s violent and indecent.

It’s 9.26 pm UK time, 11.26 here, and suddenly everything is sweetness and light, Royal family and classical music, and Libya doesn’t exist anymore.  It is completely disorientating.  What is going on here?  This is violent brainwashing, and disorientation. I’m not sure what Ghita, another presenter, has to do with the weather forecast.  This is witchcraft.

Bloodhounds, newshounds, bassett hounds . . . can’t think of anymore at the moment.

Newshounds.  A term of affection and pride, I thought.  But a hound is a dog.  You can’t call people dogs.  You’ll get your face slapped.

However . . . actors use props.  Sometimes hidden like lucky charms.  I sometimes wonder where exactly the knife is hidden or who might be holding it and brandishing it in the background.  Yes, I do mean a real knife.  Brandished in real maniacal anger and hatred.  I’m really fed up of hearing these throat-rasping, savage, mocking idiots.

Even yesterday,  listening to BBC Radio London, I felt convinced, in fact it seemed obvious, that our media is in the hands of some sort of mafia organisation.  I suppose I should feel sorry for the people who go into it blindly.  For some of them, little more than children themselves, the things they do are so awful, I could almost feel they must be under some kind of threat.  Maybe blackmail or something, I don’t know.  Or maybe they are just that savage and ambitious.

I watched ‘Let’s Dance For Comic Relief’ just now, which was broadcast last Saturday evening on BBC1.  I’m afraid I don’t have the stomach to talk about it.  I watched it to see Ed Byrne, I think he’s great, really nice.  Or maybe I just have a teenagerish crush on him.

All these people playing the northern dominatrix, you know, they’re not really northerners or, if they are, they are deliberately portraying an offensive and demeaning caricature.  And look at Katie Price.  And JLS.  And everyone who acts the part of the airhead brigade.  It’s a complete betrayal.  Watch all these so-called ‘airheads’, wherever they pop up – football included.  These are hard-headed business people handling millions and billions.  There is no way they are like that.  Sometimes you see the truth break through, if you care to watch closely enough.  So why are they feeding us a constant diet of such trash?  There is no gift involved in this, no talent, just a complete, bullying deception which sometimes appears cute and funny but in reality, for the truly vulnerable and desperate, which I am trying to move away from being, it is anything but.  When I was a kid people used to say the devil looks after his own and talk about honour among thieves.  Both of those sayings are true, but only to a point.  These people know that.  And many of them have each other over a barrel, and some of us as well, if not all of us.  I’ve had enough of seeing my money go to support such people.

PS  What’s the name of that place?  Flossimouth?  I think so.  Listen to them.

I heard them say a few months ago that they had to maintain the moral high ground.  I suppose that is where the combination of dominatrix and honeymouth comes in.  They only sound harsh when they want you to hear them swearing at you or calling you a name.  And listen to the way they say ‘country’, the sexual intonation of it, and the way they talk about the toss.  That’s partly what I meant about BBC Radio london – it’s more like being in the Playboy club (where I have never been) than listening to something legitimate.  The  people on BBC World news are the same, including the  Asian woman who is doing the sports now, 7.49 am UK time.  She’s now talking strictly about throwing people out if they are responsible for anymore crowd trouble.  Forget, forget.  Sit ins sounding like the person they are sitting in for (Robert Elm’s sit in yesterday.  I was sure it was him pretending to be someone else).  Something bad is happening here.  Someone please help me and stop them, I can’t take it anymore.  They are demonic, and deliberately so.  And someone crashes my computer when I really begin to run with something.  I obviously know too much.  That’s good.  I’ve got the big dogs worried.  That is really exceelent news and very flattering.  I hope they come to know the Lord Jesus.  They are openly, for those who know, playing with a mix of lies and occultism.  I can feel its effect all the time.

On the news they have basically built themselves a new age grotto.  All the vibrant gem colours, the crystal balls (literally) for the weather, and watch the shoulder drops.  They started doing that after I watched a video of Michael Mish’s, with a young girl, in her teens, if that, doing the same thing.  I think they are using other coding as well.  the man John, that Nana was just talking to, was talking about Tripoli and it sounded as if he was using it for trickery.  And they are being as provocative as possible.  They are being sexually invasive with a mixture of words and tone and imediately following it up with a harsh and violent and contemptuous sounding bit of speech.  It’s so provocative, I feel as if I have two options.  I can speak the violence they deliberately try to provoke me into speaking, or they can just keep sticking their violent knives into my mind and I feel as if I can’t think or speak at all.  They delieberately make you angry, then they mock you with it.  mocking people they have already destroyed.  These are violent and real savages.  I have every sympathy with the leaders who are currentlysaying that the media are making their people drunk and that it is the BBC’s fault.  nana, before going to someone called Chris, just said ‘let’s git’, as in the constant reference to schizophrenia, and they keep saying, deliberately, on the news programmes, things in the same tone as the dominatrix figures in Strictly Come Dancing and The Weakest Link, and at the same time staring like an innocent doe into the camera.  Take these people down, God, get them off our screens.  They are raging bulls and bloodthirsty wolves.  Even if they have the ability to make me doubt my own perception of that.

Dear Nana and co, the ‘Our World’ and ‘our website’, which you want us to think is yours, the BBC’s, it is ours, and you are abusing it and us.  It’s ours.  One way or another, we pay you.  We don’t pay you to abuse us and perpetrate lies and abuse in our name.  You have access to it by our grace, not the other way round.

The weather girl just talked about unsettled weather as if she was a psychiatric nurse.  It isn’t just my mind.  it is my belief that the economy doesn’t suffer because of the weather, but because of the way the people who report it use it to attach negative messages to it.  If people don’t shop because of the weather, it’s because of the way they instruct us to think about it.  And it’s deliberate.  Go get ’em, kids.  They are openly and unashamedly gloating in their power.  Not just the weather reporters.  While I write, they adopt that tone.  and the person who comes on next switches to wrong foot you.  And it is my honest belief that these purer than pure looking and sounding bastards and bitches deliberately use innocent sounding replacements for swearing they either want us to hear or that they want to say but their job doesn’t allow them.  They are poisonous, and keith Green was right.  They would kill me if they could, and one day they might.  They have already gone quite close in what they have done to me over at least the last 15 years.  And believe me, I’d like to do the same to them.  I’d like to break them bone from bone.  Their false innocence is the most hateful defiance imaginable.  So go ahead, punks, if you want to arrest me and drug me for daring to say so, do so.

I don’t know why I watch it.  It’s an abusive construct.  It’s a complete con.  She just talked about Irish going bad then said bankers to sound like wankers.  I know what I’m talking about and so do some of my readers, I don’t need to be specific.  But Colin Dye’s wife is irish, whatever that has to do with it.  She also just affected, whether it was real or not, as if she was instructing someone to take me out.  It’s punitive.  They always do this.  It’s obviously to make me regret that I ever started writing, and to keep violently provoking me into needing to say something else when I want to stop, as long as I’m watching it and logging it.  These are our equivalent of Victorian ladies and gentlemen who used to visit asylums and laugh at the inmates, but they try to kid us that these days we are kinder and more humane.  Look at them.. hey are like nasty animals, control, control, control, and kill.  They are all doing it and they all know and they are doing it on purpose, and they are doing it to cover criminality and to deceive.  Listen to all the tongue, lashings.  It is criminal insolence.  I might be sick, but it is the criminals taunting and provoking that need taking out, not me.  They know it.  their tears are the tears of desperate guilt, and I am pitiless.  Then they eyeball the camera as if to engage you, then whip their eyes away.  That little cunt doing the news is a nasty little slut.  i think she knows she looks like Chrysta.  Savage little dominatrix.  They are deliberately inciting to violence and hatred, by all their behaviour.  it’s as if they are saying, ‘we’ve won, you’re finished, what are you going to do about it?’  In terms of child bearing, I am finished, and they are cruel.  The church always taught me that witches feel and hate prayer.  I know and can see and hear that this is obviously true.  Liars, liars, liars and criminals, violent, hateful, degraded and degrading criminals.  They are making me desperately hysterical.  That’s exactly what they want.  If they say anything else, it’s a lie.

They are only acting all sweetness and light.  Their kingdom is coming down, both personally and corporately.  I would like to see their masks torn off completely with the dead men’s bones behind them, before they drag me out anywhere and tear me to pieces with their guile.  God, let it happen, and let it happen quickly.  They keep taunting me with the possible loss of my freedom.  I can’t bear it.  These dogs have no right to this.  They never have had and never will have.  Nana is doing her ‘look at me, I’m a lovely, reasonable person’ act, to fool whoever she can, and to enable whoever she needs to, and disable others, like me.  They know I want to do them violence.  That’s what they aim for, that is their goal.  There is no better way to silence someone like me than to make them feel things they are frightened of because of the possible consequences of expressing them.  On Radio London yesterday they were talking about debt counselling, on the Danny Baker show, i think, or the one after it.  one of the guest said that people with mental health problems should never be forced to do anything.  Someone in the studio banged down loudly on a desk.  I believed it was to try to suppress the statement, because they have been pressuring me for ages and not being direct and open and legally committed in their approaches.  I believe they love it when i rant like this.  It makes me feel ashamed, insecure and humiliated.  Nana will keep beatific Miss Purity on as long as she can, but sometimes it slips.  Look into my eyes can’t you see they’re open wide, would I lie to you baby?  Well, yes, actually, otherwise you wouldn’t need the almost pantomime appearance.  I don’t want to be exposed to this crap, this act, this deception.  When I turn the news on, I want to listen to real news, not surreptitious targetting and attacks.  there’s something about purple.  They all wear pink and purple.  They are their colours of power (my browser got crashed again here).  I read an article online by Dr mercola who talked about the power of purple.  I know this fits in somewhere, but I don’t know how or where, if he gave it to them or if they stole it.  it could be either, they hack my computer.  Nana is insolent, she is facing off, look at her.  Jobbing actors and actresses, just like Norman Wsidom’s friend said on BBC London news, and the girl didn’t like it.  I like purple, I feel good in it.  Did do before they started using it, like everything else they know about me.  They play hide and seek.  They disappear at significant points.  Now you see me, now you don’t.  It’s all psychological trickery and taunting, like hanging, drawing and quartering.  Come on, Sue, open, open, open, open. Forget it,you vapid acting little darlin’, I’m done.  That is all you’re getting this morning.

3.11 pm UK time.  The man on the right of the 4 way split screen looks like Jacques Jacobs from Winning in Life and he just said swear for square, talking about Libya, and now he has gone from sounding like a munchkin on helium to a posh purr, and now he has stopped.  They make me look petty if I say anything.  I suppose the producer must have just called a break, because he said they were coming back.  It might have been scheduled or not, but you can’t believe anything they say anyway, they even alter their taps to erase the evidence. I know that from before. I’ve said that in the past as well.  I don’t think they should be forgiven for that.  Purring patronisation and indoctrination into western atheistic humanism.  They aren’t reporting, they are promoting an agenda, and most of their emails, which they mock me with when I start to write, are made up.  They love it when I scream hysterically and do everything they can to continue to sound pure in spite.

Dear Clyde Sandry

You can go off people, you know!

I’ve just listened to most of your sermon this Sunday, and you are using words you have somehow got from my recent communications with other people and off the back of them you are shouting at me.  “Dearth”, for instance, is one of those words, which I used in an email to someone whose spirituality would be abhorrent to you.

If I had really understood before what I believe I understand now, I could have resisted you awful, monstrous impressions of Christians years ago.

You are using my love against me, and are trying to force me for some reason to take a path, even though you have used the law against me, that does not resolve my situation through the proper application of the law which has become necessary through your own actions with regard to me.

David Shearman, since my mid teens, has treated me as a thing loathed and despised.  I knew no better than to keep trying to win his love and approval, hoping one day I would be impressive enough for him.  I used to think, at least 90%, that if I came to church driving a nice car and looking in control of my life, I might have a bit of a chance of something.

If these people have somehow been persuaded to pass my emails on to you and to treat me as you have historically treated me yourselves, then all of you, normally having no time for each other’s spirituality, have come together to force/control/exclude/invalidate me, and that, if it is true in any detail, is disgusting of all of you.

You know how much I long for a kind and loving touch.  You must do, you seem to have access to my communications.  I want to tell you, in your 1950’s attire and mimicking what you have heard of me on the phone in years gone by before you even start to speak (William Lee does the same thing), you are monstrous dogs and I hope I somehow manage to recover what is left of my life and to live without you.

You are complete moral cowards.  You throw reminders of my childhood at me that you seem to have gathered from my family somehow (how did you persuade them?), all the time knowing I just want to be contacted and spoken to normally and told what you want, but you either will not or dare not take that route, and keep piling the pressure on me until my health and confidence are breaking down.

Although I feel inclined to beg, given the material you have been using, I wish to completely disassociate myself from all the methods you are using to put pressure on me and force a response.  I can’t see why you need to hide in this way.

My only access to you is through legal means.  Yours is riddled with illegality.

If David Shearman’s sermon last Sunday was preached last Sunday, why does he say in it that he has been speaking to his father, who died two years ago?

I can’t fight you, you are too strong for me, both in number and in your ability to use years of love, hope and pain against me, in your apparent ability to persuade people to help you and believe they are being helped by you in putting me under your illegal authority (unless you are getting everything from hacking my computer), and in your stupid, bullish bullying.  If this is how you treat vulnerable and legally disenfranchised people when you are desperate (and it is, I know from past experience), I don’t want anything to do with you ever again, I want you to take your hands off me and everything to do with me, shut up and tell people what you have been doing to me and the fears you have been playing on.

You are gross and I hate you.  I don’t care who is impressed with you, I have been up close since my teens and I know better.   I want you to leave me alone and I want nothing else to do with you.  You are perverse in your harassment, and dishonest.  If you want me to change my mind on that then you have a bit of repenting and apologising to do, to me, with other people’s knowledge.

Although inwardly I am crying, and afraid to take such a stand towards people who have claimed to represent Jesus to me for so long and have claimed a right to acknowledgment of that fact, I will not change my mind and I will not come to you, crying or otherwise.  You are being deliberately provocative because you are too proud to be honest about your sin to a much younger woman that you have harmed.

All on my own, with my own squeaky little mouse voice, knowing how much you can still hurt and rape and provoke, deliberately, if I continue to listen to you (in the sense of hear your words over the internet), I say something I am not supposed to say and something which is completely against my nature to say to you, and that is, “go to hell, all of you”.  Your words are a complete molestation, posturing as intimate and discrete, there is nothing discrete about them, they are plain, criminal cowardice.  I hate what you are doing, you are making me ill.

If you want my help you can ask for it, otherwise I will never go back on anything I have said here, and if I do, I will be wrong.

Pamela Stevenson On The One Show

Available until 7.30 pm tonight.  Get it quickly.  She is or has been a practising psychologist, and she has also been involved in what has been happening to me.  That makes it criminal as an artist an certainly as a psychologist.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00y4y8l/The_One_Show_27_01_2011/

I haven’t said anything for ages.  I’ve known since the last series of ‘Strictly Come Dancing’.  There is another psycholgist called Doctor Pam Spur (it might have 2 ‘r’s) who stood in for Tommy Boyd a couple of times, and she was talking about stuff like ‘walking the dog’ in the afternoon show, which could be taken as a sexual reference.  At the time the producer or whoever it was working with her was furious, I think he could see it wasn’t right for her to be doing that, on whatever level he understood it.  It was for BBC Southern Counties Radio.

Call me stupid if you like, but the reason I haven’t said anything about Pamela Stevenson is because I didn’t want to hurt her husband, Billy Connelly.  I’m a complete sucker for other people’s pain and it can keep me silent for ages.  I’ve seen his act on the tv a few times, I’ve heard him talk about his background, and there seems to be something really fragile about him.  I thought if I said anything about his wife it would hurt him, so I kept quiet.

She has been using Jean Darnall’s personality for ages, even while she was dancing.  There was a girl called Stevenson at a school I used to go to (I won’t identify her any further than that), and Pamela wears her hair in exactly the same way.  This girl was close friends with a teacher friend of mine who died a few years ago with a brain haemmorhage, and who has also been used by the media.  All of us were connected with the same drama group.

One of my concerns in this programme is that Pamela talks about authority going back to the GP in relation to the mental health system, and she said they were not trained to be able to make a diagnosis of mental illness.  But I believe that she herself has been involved with the stalking, and yet there she is wanting to make the right to diagnose mental illness an exclusive and specialised thing.  But she has abused her position.  But if ordinary practitioners are told that they are unable to work with this kind of thing adequately, if someone approaches them and says this is happening to them they are probably referred back to the mental health system and the GP has probably been told not to get involved.  That isolates the patient, if everyone else is being told to leave it to the professionals.

I apologise, I was tired ages ago of trusting that, if i tried to be discreet, someone would respect that and try and step in to help.  So now I am condemned, even if by no one other than myself, for my lack of discretion.  I like Billy Connelly – oh what rubbish, I’ve only ever seen him on the telly!

I wish you well and speedy success.  Would they want to kill me if I went and lived in an isolated area?  Sorry, I know that sounds stupid, but they have already called me a prostitute and things to people I loved.  I’m just wondering how far they might go.

I’m looking at an isolated house near Sofia at the moment.  It looks gorgeous and lovely, but although I came looking for space, I’m now more than a little afraid.

So I wish you speedy success and hope you’ll keep an eye out for me.  And apologies, if you are really serious about this, for saying things I didn’t understand.

The Thinker

Me.  Sorry about that.  It’s only me, not the famous statue!  More of my boring drivel, I’m afraid.

I think . . . Esther Hyam on Premier (not sure of spelling) is mimicking Christine who held me as I cried when Loxley told me I was no longer welcome at church.

I think . . . Gypsy William Lee at Kensington Temple, dropping his aitches everywhere and saying ‘rejoice in your ‘art’ was giving instructions to Christian artists and media people everywhere, including those leading worship (why don’t they mention William Lee anymore?  At a significant point all their boasting about him going on and on and on every day and the revival going on and on . . . just stopped.  I don’t remember an explanation).

I think . . . When the solicitor Rachel Gawith (who has a criminal conviction in Bulgaria on her own admission on her website and an awful attitude to Bulgarian authorities and the legal system – check out the travel bug and the rental bug websites) and her friends dealt so badly and illegally with me (they didn’t even give me a contract or offer one when I asked) and threatened me with Bulgarian police intimidation saying they were not nice and blackmailed me with the information they had been pushing me for and, in  spite of my explanation of the situation and me telling her that I had already been to the police about it who had done nothing (and still have not after much pursuit through an IPCC complaint from me) she told me she was going to report me to the British police because I was obviously in serious trouble with them – all this went through emails and Skype and I am sure everyone I believe is stalking me knows all about this . . . I think that when, at that time, someone in church or on Premier Radio prayed that God would protect Rachel, they intended that she should be at least one of the people that came to mind for me.

I think . . . that when someone submitted a prayer request to Premier breakfast this morning about someone who needed to make a move in the next day or two, John, from the way he kept coughing and clearing his throat, had me in mind about this situation because I think you have a year to start dealing with something like this before it is too late legally, and they ejected me from the house on 18th/19th Jaunary last year.

I think . . . their stalking has served to deprive me of any feeling that I could cope with trying to seek justice and that they never intended that I should feel able to without them.

When I first heard someone say on Premier this morning that someone was being subjected to a ‘savage spiritual attack’ I felt that was what they have been doing to me.

I think . . . I am now never going to be able to recover from anything that has happened to me this year, and they won’t care.  They wanted to make me dependent on them so aimed at knocking out any feeling that it might be possible to seek legal help successfully. I might be wrong.

I think . . . John Pantry is deliberately using my style when he speaks prayer words for his emailers.

I think . . . people have been deliberately purring at me in my personality then purring things like ‘if you have a roof over your head, be grateful’, making me feel I should be grateful for a place where I am subjected to such serious harassment day after day that I can’t cope with anything.

I think . . . that yesterday Colin Dye in the 11 am service after the 9 am which they chose not to stream yesterday, obviously used his little story about the lonely female amoeba to talk about me.  Check it out at http://www.KT.org/media.  It wil be up there soon if it isn’t now.

I think . . . this kind of communication is not aimed at me to try and win me, but aimed at people he wants to despise me.  I think this kind of thing and the violence they use in their communication, both obvious and not so obvious, are designed to help them keep control and keep the power flowing.  When it is happening, and they are using things about me as access points, I look back and see it was at about that time that I began to feel a need to vent myself.  I think, having experienced this, that this might be exactly the kind of thing that Susan Boyle, a composite personality of me and my next door neighbour, might have been experiencing in all the things I have seen being reported about her meltdowns.  I’ve said this kind of thing before to my mental health team and I can only assume that, if they have any kind of education about anything, the reason they refused to understand what I was saying was because they just didn’t want to know or to acknowledge everything else they have known and understood for years.

I think . . . Premier has abandoned its remit to the church in favour of courting other celebrities and personalities who are not even Christian.  In their dishonesty and criminality and pretence they have lost the plot and are betraying their listeners and also the non-Christian celebrities they promote and pursue.  (Erm . . . is this supposed to be a reflection of me, or what?)

I think . . . they get into their Dagenham style performance character and you are never supposed to see them out of character.  Esther began to slip this morning, and John helped her back into character by addressing her with a character-appropriate name.  He was ostensibly talking to someone else, but the time and the tone and Esther’s immediate recovery of her performance character led me to believe there was more to it than that.  (this is supposed to be ministry, not theatre and performance?  they are presenting as . . . I don’t know what they are presenting as, but I think the uninformed listener, viewer and participant is supposed to believe it is not a performance, and that is a lie).

I wish . . . I had never got involved with any of this.

I hope . . . I still can.

I believe and hope and think that I know . . . that is crazy thinking.  Its about arts and media.  It’s an arts and media coterie fight for them.  Authenticity and truth and personal trustworthiness and true spirituality come after that and might somehow be things they manage to affect and pull off. 

(I think . . . these churches and this radio station stopped being a spiritual ministry ages ago, going instead for theatrical representations and namedropping, as they did this morning.  I heard them agree with each other to do that a few years ago.)  How did this paragraph get here and where did it start off?

I think . . . that will do for now.

Display it, move it down and take it off, replace it when challenged so I look like an idiot, then take it off again.  No explanation.  Katie and the Forbidden Male Principle Post, published an hour and a half ago, is now nowhere to be found on this board.  Ignore, reposition, delete, treat as if dead or non-existent, except for electronic and psychological stalking – to a victim of serious church stalking and corruption, so serious it has landed her in a mental hospital.  It is satanic and demonic contempt of human life.  These people who run this board are not acting like responsible Christians, even if that is what they claim to be.

Should we accept his apostleship?  If ex-Communist officials are rejected in Bulgaria for diplomacy?  I don’t know what to make of this anymore.  Is an ex-killer a suitable leader and teacher in any context, no matter how much they seem to have changed?  Won’t the past warp their leadership and anything built on it?  What would have happened to the forgiven insurrectionist on the cross if he had lived?  Would forgiveness have meant he could function in society as if he had never killed?  I accept Paul, he is part of my fabric. Should it be uneasy though?  I believe, so I say, in redemption, even of killers, but emotionally it is hard at the moment.  I’ve never lived in a country before where ex-killers of Christians are walking free and in government.  It feels horrible, to me.  Paul.  Ex-killer of Christians.  Foundational Christian teacher.  Teacher of those he once persecuted.  If this were a case of child abuse, it wouldn’t be allowed.  OMG, I’m in trouble with this one.  Did Christianity and the church lose the plot, recognising and building on Paul, or what?  And if the mainstream, Gnostic-rejecting (so it still claims) can use the methods it now does, why does it claim still that Gnosticism is heresy?  And stalking and murder are closely related crimes in effect. . .

Coded Communication

The reason I disagree with this, from people with power and authority towards people who have been through the mental health system, is that my experience of the mental health system is that they insist it doesn’t happen, and if you say it does it is evidence of mental illness.

My experience of the people who use this form of communication is that they do so in order to be able to insist that you respond on their terms and they get involved on their own terms, otherwise they won’t even acknowledge the communication.  They will stand by and look on silently and impassively as they order you to be taken away.

Their assumed right to do this also assumes that they know everything they need to know to make a decision about a person.  Erm . . . that would make them God, then?

I’m in a dilemma over this.  I’m sure that most of them believe that what they are doing is right.  But I would like to e able to say that the reason I feel so strongly against it is that I have fallen prey of evil people who have perverted its use, but those people would not accept that description and assessment of themselves, and neither would most ‘decent, upstanding people’ accept it of them.

I do feel love, I do feel loyalty, I believe very much in obedience to authority.  I think I do, anyway.  So when I don’t respond to this, I believe it says something bad about me, and I think that is how they see it too.

Am I a person being abused, or am I just a rebel who needs to learn to respect those in authority? If I go to the people I rebel against in tears, will they heal me?  I certainly seem to be making life very hard for myself.  That is the position they take.

The problem is, for me and other survivors of the mental health system, the government validates and upholds the system which says believing we are being communicated with in this way is evidence of mental illness.

So what is the definition of mental illness? Is it, for someone like me, that I want to do what I want to do on my own terms, not on the terms of those who use their form of communication to be able to opt out of committment to a response from the person which is other than they want?  To me, it looks that way.

I thought that living in a democracy meant you could do anything you want to, within the law, on your own terms unless, discounting assault, someone with authority stops you with good reason and in an acceptable way, which, to me in a situation like this, would be with the personal commitment of being explicit about what you are saying, about who you are saying it to, and about what you want, so that everyone watching and listening, including the person themselves, knows what you have said and who you have said it to.

I feel I could just go walking up to these people, at the moment, and find myself embraced and accepted.  That makes me feel that I should drop my insistence that people in authority should not communicate with those without power and authority in code, whatever the communication.  I think they would say it is about testing the heart.  When I started writing this I was ready to maintain that it is an attempt to control a person inappropriately rather than to control a situation and recognise the person’s rights to their own terms of action and understanding. I wonder what kind of Britain it is that would be put at risk by recognising these rights and not acting against them.

I believe that no one in authority who upholds the mental health system has a right to use this form of communication with someone who knows that if there response is considered unacceptable they could well end up back in hospital.  I also wish to maintain that they have no right to take an individual out of that group and try and make them feel secure enough to leave the others behind. if they can do it for one, they can do it for all.  I believe the way to do that for this kind of situation is to make it clear that the mental health practitioners are wrong in their assertions and actions towards people who believe they are being communicated with using any kind of code.

Coded communication I am aware of and that I know others are aware of embraces things like parable, metaphor, storytelling, drama – seeds planted that go for the heart and conscience and which bypass the process of logic.  I heard on Premier Radio that it was C S Lewis who said that was the function of his stories, and Premier Radio accepted the validity and desirability of that without question.

My own life experience, and that of many others, I have to assume,  is that that is not something we have been brought up with with any awareness or security or understanding. That being the case, it is wrong to invalidate us and superimpose it on us at will.

I think that, in most situations, employing means to move the will through the heart bypassing the mind is assuming far too much power.  It assumes too much personal purity and knowledge.

I’m Sue Barnett.  I’m trying to survive the mental health system threat, and until people insisted on knowing everything about me, I was a survivor of sexual and other forms of abuse.  I was satisfied that, as a Christian, the new had come and the old had gone, and that there were some things I didn’t need to talk about.   Because other people were not, and were not prepared to say that to me or to tell me what it was they were concerned about, I have been made a victim of the mental health system and of everyone who is happy to have that fear as a form of control over me because it makes their job easier.  I have been made a victim by people in authority who have used this extreme form of force and invalidation to compensate for their own cowardice, anger and unwillingness to be open without taking control.

The truth is, however I feel, the life I could have known will now never exist.  For them, knowing that I have been a victim of sexual abuse makes them believe they need to take another look and try to restore the relationship, maybe try to help me and so expiate their guilty feelings.  Some want to work even harder to cover what they have done, and so present as believing they need to be even more insistent on the form of communication they are using which will not cover the person who responds to it in the eyes of the mental health system, if the communicators don’t find the response acceptable.  They can invest it with whatever tone or expression of love, authority, disapproval, anger, cajoling, humour, twitting, triumph, positive disengagement they want to, the form of communication is still as compromising to its recipient.

If they want me to go home, the right way to communicate that is to tell me so openly and formally, either giving reasons or saying that they can’t, and to tell me what kind of provision will be made for me if I do what they ask me and what else they want to happen and don’t want to happen, in terms of – well, not knowing whether or not they want to arrest me is one of my greatest anxieties.  Will anyone meet me at the airport and, if so, who and for what purpose?  How will I know them, and that they are who they say they are and want what they say they want?

With good reason I am afraid of force and of violence and of being taken into any kind of detention when no one has told me to expect it.  Making people live with that has to be wrong, in most cases, if not all.  They tell us that if we treat them with respect we will be respected.  Hm. A very easy equation to make, and also one which they don’t impose that often on themselves in any kind of requirement to be the first to show respect in a relationship which has broken down.

Christmas is here.  I feel as if I have deprived myself.  But I believe that other people have been watching my actions with cynicism they have attributed to me.  They seem to think I have done some hard and necessary things just because it is Christmas and I want to have a good one, so they are treating my actions and communications with cynicism and not even acknowledging them.  To me, that makes them the problem, because I don’t work that way.  I would not seek resolution of serious issues involving other people with an eye to having it out of the way by Christmas.  I recently contacted the police complaints department for an update on a complaint they have allowed to lapse for several months without communication.  That was a week ago.  In spite of the seriousness and distressing nature of what is involved, I have still received no reply, and I really believe, given the way they have handled all other communication I have made on this matter, that they have decided I can wait until after Christmas because if I thought I should be able to get it out of the way before then they are going to teach me I can’t do things at my own convenience.  I didn’t even think of Christmas.  I did what I knew I had to do at the time.  If this is the approach they are taking towards me, it is their cynicism, not mine, and is completely contemptuous.  There might be another reason but, if there is, they are not exactly showing any human concern.  I haven’t even had an acknowledgement of the email I sent them, let alone an update.  This must be wrong, especially when I first started trying to deal with it back in March 2009 and they have failed to deliver in terms of the way they said they were going to handle it, even after many attempts to get a clarification.  I’m wondering why I am being held hostage in this way and why I, as the person who made the report and has later complained about the way it has been handled from start to finish in the way they have treated me, am being made to feel as if I don’t matter.  It appears to me that they MUST be trying to hide something.  If they are waiting for me to be prepared to deal with it in the way they think I should be, that is awfully patronising and shows incompetence rather than anything else.  I’ve made the report.  I’ve made the complaint.  I am being ignored on one hand and being put under pressure on the other while they wait for – what?  Perfection in the way I go about things and the way I express my feelings over the situation before they will allow any resolution or progress or closure?  These people, whose officers have been exposed for rape and other misdemeanours?  They think they have a right to hold me, someone who went to them voluntarily, hostage?

You daren’t say too much against these people.  They have ways of making you pay.  Violence, neglect, incarceration under the mental health act, leaving you to deal with abuse and vigilantism in the neighbourhood.  Would they take out a contract on my life?  Would they physically have me killed?  I really don’t know.

Edit note: 11.36 am Bulgarian time:

This post didn’t appear under it’s assigned categories and tags for several minutes.  I thought it wasn’t going to, so I contacted WordPress to ask why.

When I finished (perhaps this is what is commonly called ‘paranoia’, but I don’t think so, though I am in the city centre, more or less), a police car came past with its siren wailing.  It stopped and started and stopped and started, sort, long, it felt deliberately timed and mocking, angry, harassing and threatening.

Now I’m angry.  MY anger is not acceptable, so I am also afraid.  In the light of everything that has happened this year – should I just laugh at myself and stop being so precious and pretentious?  It looks as if I am being targeted for deliberate harassment.  If the action is deliberate, harassment might not be their motivation, it is just the quickest interpretation people arrive at. But whatever the motivation, if it IS deliberate, it is experienced as harassment and contempt and provocation, and knowing that might be what they want, I am angry, and sick with fear because of that possibility.  Because when that happens, it is normal, and right, to want to confront the human beings responsible.  But if I did I would come off worst.  That is how people become mentally ill.  Not being allowed to confront what is wrong with what is right, and having to pretend compliance where it is absolutely wrong, in the face of authorities and powerful organisations and individuals who pretend they are not doing what they most obviously and certainly seem to be doing.  I’m afraid, because they might be using this kind of activity towards me to get me to reveal my identity and whereabouts.  Even though my landlord, I think, has to give them that information anyway.  I’m afraid because, when I think I am wrong, I feel it deeply, and they make me feel that way all the time.  I’m afraid because my normal mode is love and respect, and they seem to enjoy invalidating that, or misappropriating it.  I feel stupid.  I think that is what they want me to feel.  Back off and watch a woman being abused and wait until she cries for help, realising how right they really are and acknowledging how wrong she really is.

Um . . .

Is It True?

Is it true that foreigners come to Bulgaria and buy property which then stands empty?  Is it true that there are not many foreigners here who come and stay?

As a single woman I just get the impression that they don’t even like us all that much, if at all, they just want our money. That must be the impression many people get, or they wouldn’t give up and sell up at a loss.

Whose idea was it to tell British people that Bulgaria is a good investment?  If it wasn’t for the fact that so many people give up, I would have every reason to think it is just me.

Why do people give up?  Anyone out there, please say, if you know from experience.

The bloody security guards in Billa try and treat me as if they are fucking arresting me, for God’s sake!  Give some men a uniform . . .  They don’t even have the decency to leave a woman alone.  It’s monstrous, imposing their person on me like that.  It’s just disgusting.  What do they want from me, a cuddle or something?  I just go to do my damn shopping, not to be ritually humiliated by all and sundry.

This country deserves to stay poor.  It isn’t just corruption.  Or if it is, it’s everywhere and expressive in every way.

Maybe that is a good argument for not making people take jobs they don’t want serving people they despise and want to rip off.  It’s bad for business.  Let the people who want to work work and let the rest stay on benefits.  Ultimately it will be more profitable.  IMHO.

Do you know that if you are in the UK, you aren’t allowed to watch it?  It is available for live streaming on the internet and on cable channels abroad, but if you are detected on the internet to be in the UK, you can’t watch it.  You are physically barred and a message comes up saying you’re not allowed to watch.  This is a British broadcast of World News, it says.  But in the UK you can’t watch it.  I hope people are going to ask why, I think they should.

I have UK connection through an unlock VPN provider.  That’s how I know.  I use it to watch and download UK tv.  It’s legal.  I hope it stays that way.

David Edes is on BBC World News, weekday mornings.

I’m trying to write in spite of the fact that my hysteria would have me not do so and in spite of the fact that my hysteria blocks my access to the way I want to write and even makes me write in a way I don’t want to.

I’m hysterical because the way they target me psychologically and linguistically leaves me feeling I have been touched in my private parts.  It was a man, dark skinned guy doing the sport, and all the time he was doing it he was eyeballing ‘the camera’, with a sort of stupid, vacant look on his face, but also quite intent.

He started off saying ‘we’, in that significant way they do, and later in his presentation he came back to saying something like I heard a week or so ago, ‘now, I want to talk to you about this‘.  It was said in the tone you would adopt if you were telling someone off, that was the scenario they set up.  It was as if they were talking to a naughty dog.  It was demeaning, dehumanising and very distressing.  But they keep going, as if they haven’t done anything wrong.  Maybe it was one man coming to the aid of another, because David Edes was visibly upset.  But if they do it by treating a woman that way then these men are completely indecent and evil and not fit to be unleashed on anyone.  I wouldn’t want to be married to them, and if I had children I wouldn’t want these men anywhere near them.

And there they were, molesting secretively and moving on as if they had done nothing wrong.  And I’m sitting there watching and becoming more and more physically distressed because it was tantamount to an indecent touch.  Although I feel it, I continue to watch, trying to come to terms with what they have just done, and also open and interested to see where they go next.  But watching them and listening to them, I do myself a disservice.

But this sort of thing happens any time I begin to recover.  This machine is disgusting, degrading and murderous.  They have gathered all the information about me that they can and use it to try and present themselves as people who want to help me and who understand, but when you begin to think independently of them and repossess your own life, they attack you in this way.  If they are not allowed to be the helpers and the benefactors, they will just as happily turn round and assault you in this way.

It makes me feel as if I am wrong and that, as a woman, I should respond to these men on their terms and that it is unreasonable of me not to do so.  It makes me feel they have a right to molest me in this way if they don’t get what they want.  These career people shaping the way we see the world are acting like the scum of the earth.

I feel like a bad woman, because I object to be treated this way.  I believe this is how they want me to feel, or they would not adopt that tone.

Or maybe they don’t care how I feel, they just want their own embarrassment to stop.  So they go for me in that way and feel helped, but I feel so worked over I’m too distressed even to leave my home.  A sexual touch opens people up. It’s like linguistic hit and run rape.  And knowing all my electronic communication, even before it is released, is being watched by govenrment, media and church people makes it even worse.  They are there watching, and do nothing.  Then they turn and try toi make you think they are the people supporting your life because they don’t stop your benefits.  But you never know when they are going to, and if I was properly compensated for what they have done to me I might never need to make a decision ever again that was money based, I believe I am entitled to that much compensation.  I could live the life of Reilly, and that would be wonderful

Is this kind of thing what David Shearman was referring to when he said ages ago that it is molestation?  If so, I agree with him on that.

Yesterday the BBC New Channel put together an account of a teenage asylum seeker who said she had a torch shone into her face once an hour during the night to make sure she hadn’t harmed herself (common sense says there are times to leave people alone to sleep, and this happened to me in hospital as well.  And if a person is ill, they need sleep?  No further comment), with a sign saying ‘Welcome to Crane’, an asylum seekers’ unit and also the name of the secondary school I went to and where I was repeatedly molested by a male teacher who has now died, and this story was immediately followed up by a story about a teacher charged with sexual molestation of a pupil in school.

I think the people upstairs must be watching television or listening to the radio or something.  I believe the media here is stalking me as well, and as I typed that bit, which is obviously a part of me that I need to possess if I’m to have any chance of recovering my life, the man started to shout out.  maybe the same man that pitched up and shouted aggressively outside my flat on my first or second day here.  This happens repeatedly.  I have nothing to relate to anyone with, the onslaught of violence, aggression and molestation is so continuous.  It’s as if they are saying, ‘don’t touch that, that’s mine’, every time I begin to engage with my own life and experiences.  It’s not theirs, it’s not yours, it’s mine.  It is mine.  It’s my life and history my mind is beginning to engage with every time someone touches me in this way.

All of you, whoever you are engaged in doing this, UK and anywhere else, you are indecent, murderous bastards, and I hope you are made to pay.  You are going to pay.  There are other voices than mine in agreement, and I hope they read this and act.  And I hope the media stops using my life to shape its material, whether news or entertainment or lifestyle or whatever.  Because these people are the criminals and the space invaders, not me.  Are they too stupid, so morally and ethically far gone, they can’t even see that?

OMG!!!

First published 9th December 2010, after a post on veganism.

Edit:  This is a Sticky Post – Stuck to the front page for future reference.  It didn’t appear in any of the tag categories I selected, I assume because it has too many tags, although plenty of others that HAVE appeared have more than the 10 suggested in WordPress Help.

I brainstormed on the tags.  One reason I have stuck this on the front page, so you can search the categories any time, and so can I.  And what I say in this is relevant much of the time.   If you look at my tags in this you get an idea of how I think and feel about what is happening and how I think it should be perceived, understood and treated.

Spread the word, please, if you are with me.  Maybe if I break up the tags into easier to handle chunks I can get the post into all the categories I want, if I reproduce it or something.

Just listen to the sickly sweetness on Premier right now.  You have an hour.  I wouldn’t mind if it wasn’t criminally fuelled sarcasm, teasing and stalking.  They are not sincere people, even if they sound it.

Listen, you will hear them using my blog.  Even this.

They are taunting people, maybe me, with ‘Ah, you think YOU are always right, do you?’ But whether I am or not, I’m not using criminal means to enforce my opinion.  They are.  These Christians.  If you can’t win and you want to cry, mock and laugh, they say.  These carers for souls and God’s vision for humanity as a whole.  Unfit for purpose.

What’s it like, playing God? Esther says.  You’re asking the wrong person, Esther.  I wouldn’t know.  You would though, if you think He authorises the use of criminality and everything else in my tags to destroy a person.  Croaking and squeaking, most of it is deliberate and to hurt and offend FOR NO GOOD REASON EXCEPT TO WIN FOR YOUR ORGANISATION and you have no right to my sympathy.  I am not you, I am weak, you are abusing your position.

And you keep teasing, making out you’re going to comment or pass an opinion on what I say, but talk about something else.  I can hear the mockery in your voices, past experience of you all helps.

I love it when John Pantry gets hsi knickers in a twist about something being blatant.  If he’s talking about me, he’s projecting.  he is seeing things that were not intended at the time of writing, but I am awfully glad they are there.  But they weren’t intentional, so it is all, for him, a product of his mind, guilty and sneaky as it is.

Thank you for seeming sweet, guys, even if you are not.  We all need our illusions, especially at this time in the morning.  Pity mine don’t hold.

Got it – they are taking the message to their own consciences and forcing them outwards. That’s what this kind of Christianity does, all the time.  Look at the blogs, see how often they talk about they rather than I or we.  They think it is a sign of good authority to stand out in the street complaining loudly or pointing the finger, literally, in someone else’s face, a member of their congregation.  I’ve seen and heard it all, and deliberately recoil from and distance myself from it.  Buzz, buzz.

I’m being censored.  This doesn’t appear in any of my tag categories, 50 minutes on, and the Premier news just had something said with firm sternness about needing medical help.  It’s not new.  Maybe that is why Premier felt able to mock so freely and why it was so effective.  They caught me on my blind side.  I assumed it was going out and being shown in the categories.

Rick Easter, I have no responsibility.  I’ve already tried to meet it many times over, and you continue to taunt and terrorise based on the consequences.  You are angry, degrading people.

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