Tag Archive: Suicide


Coffee With My Nurse

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Robin Williams 2

It isn’t possible to know what was in Robin Williams’ mind when he committed  suicide, as there has been no mention of a suicide note.

We are all in the dark.

It emerged today through his widow that he was in the early stages of Parkinson’s Disease.

That might have been a factor in his suicide, it might even have been the deciding factor.

He might have done it for himself, he might have done it for those who would have had to care for him,

His mind might not have been clear at all in determining his final act.

Some of us are left wondering who he was, and feeling a bit betrayed.

Maybe there is something in the assertion that suicide is selfish.

(My father committed suicide.  I was 11.  I have missed him and made excuses for him to myself for years  I have felt a responsibility to understand and love him.  I have to see myself and my experience as separate, the burden of responsibility and identification is too great.)

Whatever may emerge, we don’t know why he killed himself, not really.

We can only guess and maybe come to a conclusion that is most comfortable for us, that we feel we can understand.

I feel sorry that he has gone this way.

He was obviously in great pain.

Why this need to make a god and a benchmark of a frail and aging man?

Robin Williams RIP

Today I like so many others mourn the death of Robin Williams.  It came as a complete and unbelievable shock to me in the midnight news last night.  Robin Williams, the world has been a better place because you were in it. Your depression got the better of you, but you were an inspirational man.

Like so many people I laughed at Mrs Doubtfire, the man who was so desperate to be with his children that he pretended to be a woman to become their nanny.  It was light and entertaining but with a serious message to the children that sometimes mummies and daddies split up but still love the children.

Dead Poets Society, Awakenings and What Dreams May Come are some of my favourite films.  Serious films with serious and heartbreaking material.  I don’t remember as much of them as I would like to, a lot has happened since I saw them.

What Dreams May Come made quite an impact on me, as Robin Williams, the man killed in a car crash, is guided through the afterlife and told that everything he sees around him is the product of his own mind.  He goes on a rescue mission to hell to save his wife who died later through suicide, and he is reminded that all the turbulence he is experiencing is also the product of his own mind.  It is a very painful film, showing the pain of interplay between the wife’s surviving world after the crash and his attempts to comfort her from the other side.  There is a scene where he embraces her from behind and she screams.

Awakenings is a fictionalised drama based on the true account by Oliver Sacks about some victims of encephalitis who have been catatonic for years and then a new drug wakes them up to a new life.

In Dead Poets Society Robin Williams played the part of an English teacher who sought to inspire his pupils through poetry.  He tried to draw out their individuality and self-expression.  He was later fired after being blamed for the suicide of a boy who played Puck from A Midsummer Night’s Dream against his parents wishes.  The boy had wanted to be an actor but his father had wanted him to go to Harvard.  It was a traditional school where Keating (Robin Williams) used to go himself and he was challenging the system.

I liked Robin Williams because he could play roles where he was both moved and moving.  I found all three of these films completely absorbing.

Death is always hard.  Suicide is harder.  I asked some people this morning if they had heard about the death and most of them had.  I asked a couple of the domestics if they had heard and they ended up saying it was selfish.  I was horrified by the judgmentalism, especially from staff working in a place like this, it made me feel sick.  Robin Williams was loved, and for good reason.  One of them said it wasn’t as if he didn’t have a pot to piss in.  Depression can affect anyone, regardless of their status.  I was disgusted by this.

I have been heartened today to see and hear the tributes to him.  I feel as if I am going to be affected by this news for the rest of my life.  One person I didn’t expect to be going anywhere soon was Robin Williams.

I’m a Christian.  I have been taught to believe that Christians go to heaven and non-Christians go to hell.  I don’t know where Robin Williams stood with things, but I hope God will be merciful.  I hope he will rest in peace.

This article in The New Scientist details attempts which have been successful over several periods, including a 7-year period, to treat the classic symptoms of schizophrenia using talking therapies and computerised methods without medication, and says that people who are medication-free rebuild their lives more successfully.  It questions the dopamine theory as well.

At the end of this article is a link to another called Antipsychotic drugs are schizophrenia’s hidden gulag, which says that it is a human rights emergency that people diagnosed with schizophrenia are expected to take antipsychotics for the rest of their lives.

I am pleased that these articles are in a publication like The New Scientist and that they detail instances of successful treatment without drugs.  The groundswell against the present treatment of people diagnosed as schizophrenic needs to grow, and that is one reason I write this blog.

These articles were posted by the Facebook group, Speak Out Against Psychiatry.  This is an informative, supportive and active group which campaigns against psychiatry and its abuses.  Please apply for membership.

The Ledge

I’m not suicidal, but I understand these feelings. About broken trust and nothing left except the oppression of nothing left to rebuild with.

theoutsiderguy

Image

 

It creeps onto you,
It grows like a vine,
Clouding your chest,
Procreating seeds,
That disperse themselves
Onto anything that can
Give you a justification,
of how and why?
Your trust is like
A vase, that falls
from all of their clumsy limbs
and shatters it,
Leaving you those fragments, to reubuild it,
With a few pieces missing every time.
But this time, there’s nothing left to rebuild.
The glue is gone, the Vase is gone.
The pain still stays,
The hate still greys .
The shock recovers,
and the deception becomes clear.
But your chest is still cloudy.
Your thoughts are still muddy.
The vase is still broken,
Your mind is still shaken.
What is left to be done.
You know the answer.

The Ledge is cold,
But does it matter?
All you think about,
Is the vase that shattered.
The ledge is cold,
But is it as…

View original post 63 more words

Managers’ Hearing 19.11.2013

One of the things Dr Moldavsky said was that past behaviour is a guide to future behaviour, and he was talking about the fact that I had taken an overdose of paracetamol over 10 years ago.  He thinks I might do the same again, so he says, if I am off medication.  I was four years off medication recently and didn’t even consider suicide, and I decided years ago that I wasn’t going to overdose or anything else like that again.  I said that in the meeting.  It seems as if I am dealing with a determinist in Dr Moldavsky.  I doubt him, I don’t think his presentation was altogether honest.  It certainly was full of put downs.  He said I was trying to hide things and was guarded.  I have the right to decide how much I can psychologically and emotionally cope with saying to whom, and I do not choose to say the same things over again to a psychiatric team just to have them dismissed as delusion.  I have said it is like forced marriage.  It is life rape and I want it to end.

Amazing You-Tube testimonial by former drug rep Gwen Olsen.

I can’t watch this at the moment, but what caught my attention was something in the comments about a niece who killed herself because hope and human rights to freedom are withdrawn from psychiatric patients.  That’s what it looks like anyway.  I’ll leave you to watch it.  They might mean well, but in the opinion of many of the unwilling recipients of their well-meaning, they do bad.  It’s as bad as a forced marriage.  In Britain it either has been or is about to be made illegal to force someone to marry, but I and others like me are forced to have a relationship with these psychiatrists and their teams and we have no way out.

Another Shouting Match

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

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

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

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

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

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

This Morning

So, what happened this morning?  R in the wheelchair told me it was either Sue or Sharon who said she had legs, she should use them.  When she told me that they were both sitting opposite me and she just said the one sitting opposite, so that is as close as I have it for now.  They started whispering together and laughing.  It came up about Sue swearing at me and telling me no one liked me again, and she said I had no proof.  They told me I was boring and my blog, which they say they haven’t read, is boring.  They told me I don’t know how to use my brain and that I am paranoid.  Sue said I was paranoid when I was saying about her swearing etc.

OK, I don’t have proof, but she and I both know, and I know she is lying.  She lies even to say she isn’t lying.  What sort of person says that another has no proof when they are expressing that kind of concern and offense?  I believe I should not need proof.  They have almost absolute power over me and I think that I should not need proof in the same way that a person reporting a past sexual offense against themselves does not need it.  We are that vulnerable.  I hope it turns out that I do not need proof.

They were all shouting at me this morning and laughing at me and letting other people, patients, shout at me.  They kept taking their side and using them to have a go at me.  I tried to talk to the doctor about what was happening and they wanted to hang around outside the door and watch, as if I was dangerous, so I said I would talk to someone else.  Jesus said the same thing – why have you come at me like this?

I couldn’t eat lunch, it was too spicy.

Whatever these people want, I will not work with them.  They are Nazis.  I will not have it said that they are working with me by my consent.  I’m not sure what they think they are trying to achieve, if it is not just trying to disempower and humiliate me.  Helen was there again, Steve who was responsible, so I was told, for the decision to not even help me with my bed.  Steve stayed laughing in the background, the women worked me over.

It started because I was told I needed to be out of my room so they could do a cleaning audit, and I let them bully me out.  I wasn’t dressed, I hadn’t showered.  When I pointed that out Sue gave me an empty stare and said ‘tough’.  I’d had a bad night because a woman on my corridor kept slamming the door again, I think it was Kerry, but I’m not sure.  It also could have been staff.  When I wanted to go back in my room Sue was sitting there and she said ‘she won’t come out again’, then we got into an argument about my right to stay in my room, and the fact that they can’t manhandle us out if we are not a danger to ourselves or anyone else.  As I said last night, they know it is the only place I have and they are taking full advantage of that. They were saying the other patients were all out and I said they didn’t have to be because the law protects us.  They were goading me, with complete disrespect.  They stripped me naked and insisted I stay among them in my distress, with them tossing me around on their horns.  I’ve had the hospital as my only home for nearly 16 months.  It has always been untenable.  I told them I would probably be gone within a month because accommodation and discharge is being talked about, and one of them threw up their hands and said hurray, or something to that effect.  Two of the other patients started on me, one said I should be in prison or in a hostel and that they were going to phone the police.  She got on the phone and asked for Scotland Yard.  I told her I would happily be in a hostel but they wouldn’t let me go.  I’ve got to wait until after 4th September when my Care Co-ordinator gets back from leave, unless I can find out from my advocate that there is a quicker way of doing it.

I had a dream last night that I was looking after Brian May’s house for him while he was away.  I also dreamt about the whole of the original Queen cast, but their hair was up in frizzy bunches on each side of their heads, while they were singing.

Oh, apart from putting me in the wrong all the time they asked me if I wasn’t sick of the sound of my voice.

Of course my constant fear about my blog is that it isn’t making the difference I want it to make, that in spite of all the clicks people don’t read it and they do think it is boring.  All I can say is that I am a real person coping,or trying to, with a terrible situation.  And I think I have something to say which should be taken seriously and should make the difference I keep saying I want it to make for myself and for others.

Bad Afternoon on Rowan 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Update 22.07.2013

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pro Choice

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

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

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

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

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.

So Anyway, last Wednesday . . .

My advocate and I went into the review meeting with Dr Jaffur and Alison, the ward manager.  When we came out we both agreed that the two staff had not been open to changing their intentions with regard to forced medication.  My advocate suggested that I could be moved to another ward and Alison said she I didn’t have a good relationship with any of the staff and that she thought I would always feel harassed.  I suppose the facts and what I think about that don’t matter.  Their position as stated was that they just wanted me better, and that if the medication was not taken orally they would inject.  When I asked when the medication was going to start, after the review meeting, Alison said in a really confrontational way ‘it starts right now’.  I found it so confrontational that I asked her if she was trying to get me into a state where several people could hold me down and inject me.

So I have capitulated and am taking the medication orally, in spite of the fact that my previous reasons for not wanting to take it remain.  Being forced to take medication against your wishes is bullying, which the trust says it does not tolerate.

Last week the possibility of forced injection was being held over me as a threat (threat is the right word).  I asked the nurse last night what would happen if I were to refuse medication now, if I would be injected, and he said no, an injection was no longer there as an option.  But if I refuse again now I am afraid (fear is something else the trust literature says the trust does not tolerate) that they would go straight to injection and keep it that way, and withdraw the oral option.

In the meantime, I am exhausted, worrying about relationships on the ward, as if they are the most important thing in my life; worrying about my financial situation, especially with regard to my belongings in storage and the fact that my benefits are due to go down now I have been so long in hospital.  Occasionally I recall that what I reported around my home has not yet received any signs of being taken seriously and would therefore be likely to recur in any future tenancies.

Alison says she sees no sign of any harassment.  Maybe that is because she isn’t out of her office and among us when that is happening.  Or maybe it is deliberate blind eyes and deaf ears.  I have told them everything and there is nothing else to tell.  If anyone is being disingenuous in this, it is not me.  I have noticed that several of the staff use false personalities.  Knowing that makes me not even want to try to relate to them.  Also, if it is true that I don’t have a good relationship with any of the staff, as Alison said, it might be possible that that is because I see them as upholding and enabling a totalitarian and abusive mental health system.  They know my beliefs about this, so it shouldn’t be put down to a failing in methat I don’t have a good relationship with any of the staff, if that is true.  Also, some of them are there just for the money and don’t want to work.  They are happy if we are not visible because we feel so threatened and disrespected by them.  They just mess around until it is time for them to go home.

I’ve just finished the 1st chapter of ‘The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner.  In places I have found it hilarious and I anticipate a good read.  The protagonist is from Nottingham, in a Borstal, at this point.  I don’t know anything about the book or where he ends up in his thinking.  He talked (he is the narrative voice) about having seen the knife held by those in authority over him when they put him in a Borstal.  Being of a basically law-abiding temperament I want him to have changed his thinking and position about a lot of things he is sure about, including his belief that the authorities are his enemies and always will be, by the end of the book.  In the meantime, I am loving it.

My laptop needs mending.  Hard drive disk inaccessible.  Have just submitted a form.  I’m typing in the library.

This Moment IS

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

This is good.

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

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

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

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

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

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

These places are awful.  They see the expression of fear or anger or like emotions as things demanding to be medicated, not as an opening to a meaningful conversation with another human being.  Very roudy lady on the ward at the moment.  Threw a few things around, was screaming last night.  She has my sympathy,  The quality of some screams make you want to go to the person and help them.  She came in trying to be friendly, placatory, I suppose, but before long she was screaming.

I was thinking that they lock us up in these places in an enforced codependency.  They want us to be like them, and insofar as we are not, and the authorities can be made to look as if they permit us to be treated this way, they lock us up until we are a bit more like them, or whoever else it was that wanted to get us sectioned.  I can’t even spell this word, but it is a form of eugenics.  Tommy Boyd had some conversations on the radio about this subject.

I was thinking today that, if Tommy had confidence in me way back then and he is, as he has said, anti all the labelling of ordinary human behaviour and emotions as mental illness – if he had confidence in me and I didn’t respond as he had hoped, it might be right that I recognise that I have contributed to suffering and suicide over all the time I have been listening to him, which might have been prevented.  If these places are, as I keep saying, the UK’s concentration camps.

I have mixed feelings, always, about this.  Today there was a story about someone being force-fed because she did not have the capacity to make a decision herself. These are the kinds of stories which make me stop and think that maybe the psychiatric profession as we know it is necessary, even for those of us who are unwilling, because our fear of something so emotive and identity-challenging as being called mentally ill blinds us to the necessity of the treatment plans enforced.

If that is right then bang goes my assertion that medicine without consent is not medicine, ad that these places should only be fore people who are there voluntarily and no coersion should ever be used.

Maybe this is and should be a different issue from the incessant inconsistencies of application of policy and procedure within the institution, and the cruelty, contempt and violence, psychological and otherwise.

I don’t know.  There have been plenty of times that I have wanted to scream in distress and anger but have not dared for fear of the ‘consequences’.  I put that word in inverted commas, because so often I have heard parents say that children need to be taught that undesired behaviour has consequences, by which they mean a forfeit or a pnishment, sometimes physical.  If the consequences of behaviour are not inherent in the behaviour anything negative a person says is necessary for the offender to feel is not direct from the behaviour and therefore has nothing to do with it.

I’m tired.  I know there is more I want to write but I can’t think at the moment.

I talked to someone at a day centre in Chichester once, asking her if she knew of Tommy Boyd.  She said she didn’t like him and had heard him say that all psychiatric patients should be locked up.  I have a problem with this because I don’t know what to think of it.  I didn’t hear him say it.  And he has often said he sometimes says things to be provocative.  I didn’t hear him say it.  And he has had access to some of the essays I wrote for my English degree.

I keep being angry and ashamed, at the moment, of the ‘fact’ that I have been so arrogant and conceited towards Tommy, thinking he was taking from me rather than that he was representing to me what I had already learned, and also things of his own.  My heart twists when I think how hard he was trying to communicate with me and needing my co-operation.  Then I remember that the reason I have wanted to go it alone, as it were, was that I didn’t want this issue to be decided on gifts and abilities or social standing or connections. I didn’t want to be heard in the psychiatric situation because of who or what was on my side.  I wanted to be considered level and equal with the least gifted and the least desirable, because to fight this issue any other way is just another form of eugenics, in someone’s favour rather than against them.  From the start I have said and meant that I don’t want to be a hero (how can I be, there are areas of my life which are too awful to permit that, though I hear that the great Gandhi used to beat his wife).  I don’t want a statue erected to my part in the downfall of UK’s concentration camps.  I don’t want a foundation in my name, or my name in history for anything to do with any of this, should this great and necessary work be successful.  Because that perpetrates a mentality which says in the face of such awfulness ‘we need another (whoever)’ ‘there is nothing we can do, we don’t know enough about it, no one will listen to us, we know but we can’t do anything’.

I’m not special.  I love it when I feel I am, I feel happy and energised.  But I know that no awfulness anywhere is going to be stopped by maintaining the belief that we need to depend on the emergence of a special person.  If anyone is special, it is the people who are making me feel special.  I hope I wouldn’t be just a stepping stone along the way.  I want to be in the truck that swings the demolision ball for the whole system of coersive medicine.  I’m a Christian.  One special person, to me, did something decisive 2 millenia ago, and the Bible says that he took the keys of death and hell at that moment, and told the rest of us to do the work.

I was thinking about George Orwell’s book 1984 as well.  Where, at the end, after the ultimate betrayal of each other (so the book presents it) in wishing their own greatest nightmares on each other when faced with them physically, they pass each other without acknowledgment, the male protagonist hears the voice of ‘Big Brother’, still surrounded by his images on hoardings and everywhere, and weeps as he realises that he loves Big Brother, and that is where it ends.

I’ve always felt that to be awful and tragic, brainwashing.  That is how Orwell wanted it to be seen, isn’t it?  A very pessimistic outlook on falling into the loving arms of Big Brother and returning the love.  I was taught about the unreliable narrator.  Surely the most unreliable narrator can be the writer him or her self.

I have been ‘loving’ my Big Brother recently, who is all around me and inescapable.  Is it the government, or the media, or a combination?  If it is a combination, what happens when they fall out of love?  If they love me now, what happens when they stop loving me?  The book ended on this broken man’s realisation that he loved Big Brother. It didn’t take us any further than that, though there would have been a further to go in his life.  Is the purpose of the book just to show and present a picture of the effects of torture and brainwashing and leave it there and let the rest of us pick it up and deal with it?

Does Big Brother love me?  Who does Big Brother love?  The political Big Brother is not the same from age to age, with the same agenda.

If we are, in the positive sense, Big Brother to each other, who or what is keeping us apart?

Biggest boo-boo

On eve of the 40th anniversary of my father’s suicide I was being mimicked and I had had enough, so I said ‘tomorrow is the 4oth anniversary of my father’s death’.  One of the patients who has been harassing me for ages said shut up, we’ve all got problems, we don’t want to know and the nurse on duty let her get away with it and whe I challenged it said ‘I didn’t know your father’.  OK, she didn’t know my father, but she had a therapeutic duty towards me in which she failed, and had been rude to me before.  I went angrily to my room saying if that was the way they treated such an important anniversary in my life I didn’t care if they were suffering in any way because of their connection to me. A few minutes later another nurse came in and I asked her what she wanted and she said they didn’t normally let people eat in their bedrooms.

The same nurse who told me she hadn’t known my father last night shouted at me for coming out of my room coughing, when I was coming out for medication to help relieve it.  She was really stern.  I got down near the treatment room and the other nurse on dty asked me what I wanted, but I was so far away that when I told her she motioned to me to shush, again very sternly, as if I was a naughty child or deliquent.  I asked her why she had asked me if she hadn’t wanted me to answer.  She has had that attitude to me before, the day before my mental health act assessment for a section 3. She went to the other nurse andshe was giggling. Before she went to her I said they were trying to make imbeciles of us all.

I went back to my room upset and angry, and Linda came in with a tablet, saying I seemed agitated and that there were other patients on the ward.  I refused to take the tablet and she said if I didn’t calm down they would IM me (inject).  She had a nurse called Errol in to back her up.  This is an all female ward. I have said befre I can’t see the necessity of men on an all female ward, and to have had him used that way felt threatening.

On 18th May, just after Dr Fahy had told me she was considering having me assessed for a section 3, he was staring at me while I was eating.  I moved saying I didn’t want to be stared at while I was eating, that it ws rude, and he said ‘they are my eyes, I’ll do what I want with them.  He followed it up with ‘get your dinner down you’ and ‘stop havinfg a tantrum’  When I got really upset with him and pointed my finger he told me not to point my finger, it was rude.  He tried to make me go to another room to eat.

A few days ago he was carrying his alarm thing right near to his penis.  I’ve noticed this with other male staff.  Errol is black, his alarm thing there looked like a statment of dominant black male sexuality, that was how I interpreted it at the time.  I know about the idea that black men targeted white women for rape.  I am reading a book, or at least have started, called ‘The Other Side of Silence’, about the abuse of wmen, and the ritual rejection of some women where the men would bare their backsides at them and shake their veined penises at their rejects.  That is why I think this might be a significant thing for me to record.

It was about 2am when this thing happened last night.  I was so upset I couldn’t sleep again until 5am.  I was so angry, wondering why they escalated it as they did to threats if njections, instead of apologising for the sternness and taking responsibility for the way t had made me feel.  Linda is covered in tattoos.  I still wonder what kind of personality does that to herself.  It isn’t one I want over me.  Before, when I talked about me, a 50 year old menopausal woman being cheeked by girls barely in their twenties, she told me I was rude and all their staff were . . . she didn’t finish.  After I rallied from that I said that that wasn’t rude, it was complaint material which she had tried to put down. Now she keeps calling me love, my love, my lovely, darling, as I do other patients out of what is probably at least sometimes misguided and unwelcome identification and sympathy with them.

Sometimes I feel I am telling tales out of school.  But there are people who don’t know what to do with this and who feel more destroyed by it than I did, and might take their lives at such provocation.  That is partly why I am writing this.  This stuff happens everywhere.  I think I might be one of the few writing representatives.

Awful 2 vegan days. Last night I ate a McD chicken sandwich and a Twix McFlurry and thoroughly enjoyed them both.  Later had an egg and cress sandwich in Tesco.  Day befre had 2 Fish filet sandwiches from McD’s. Thoroughly enjoyed those as well. My reasons for being vegan are moral and spiritual.  That is what makes my lapse so inexcusable and awful.  But right now I could easily throw the whole thing in.  It would seem so much easier to stop depriving myself of good food in a place I can’t cook for myself.

Memo to self

To achieve anything of importance you need your own private space.

With what is happening around me when I try to use a computer in a public space, or even stand and look out at the fountain I walked beside after my degree ceremony and reconstruct memories and remember who was with me, I can’t even remember what it was I considered so urgent that I needed an extra hour on the internet before I did anything else.

Officials have been so unethical and unprofessional in their handling of my situation and the way they try to access it that they have left me vulnerable in every way.

I’m going to get a tee shirt made up saying ‘Am I the only person who is not allowed to cry and scream in anguish without being arrested or put in a mental hospital?’

If anyone else wants to use it, feel free.  Your design will be unique to yourself (or your company, if you will go that low).  If anyone wants it for company purposes I might hope that they would approach me so I can share their profits.

Basically the police seem to be standing back and letting things get out of hand until I crack and start giving it back to my aggressors, at which point the police move in to take advantage of the situation to establish a contact with me which, because I do not accept where they want to go or yield, ends up in me being arrested.  They stand back while trouble develops then take advantage, rather than making an honest approach to what they want from, for or with me.  I still have bruises on my wrist from Monday night before the clearing of St Paul’s, which is 9 days ago, and no handcuffs were used.  There was no need for force, apart from making my opinion of what they were doing to me known verbally, I offered no physical resistance.  They acted in anger and malice.  Also dishonesty, I think.  They told me not to go back to my tent, supposedly by that time knowing that clearance was scheduled, so even if I hadn’t been arrested I would have been in breach of their instructions if I had gone back to my tent for any reason, even though it was the only place I had to sleep and had no money for anywhere else and they probably knew I would need to get my things.  As it is I seem to have lost everything I had in there.  The City of London police told me anything unclaimed had been taken to Heathrow and I should contact the Metropolitan Police about how to get it, but a CAB staff member phoned them for me yesterday and they say they know nothing.

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

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

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

Look at this.

I’m Sorry But . . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Punch Drunk

I’m hurt, I’m punch drunk.  Every day, people shouting, banging, barking and vomiting noise.  I always feel bad about leaving a bad situation, because my church leaders have historically said that if you can’t be a Christian where you are, you can’t be a Christian anywhere.  I’m not sure how that works when you feel as if you are being torn apart and having your throat savaged by packs of human dogs.  What does it mean then, to be a Christian where you are in that situation?  People have said to me before, in different situations, that I don’t have to stay, but in light of the previous statement that has felt like a taunt, or at least a contradiction.

I’m in a hotel.  There are men shouting like savages on a football pitch, angrily, defiantly, power-grabbingly.  This is Plovdiv.  As far as I am concerned, these people are angry and still murderous.  I feel sick.  I really can’t cope any more.  It’s satanic, it’s disgusting, and for all the support I have in my community, both here and in London, I might as well be homeless.  I’m not, but I might as well be, because the police don’t care.  I feel really sick.  These people, men and women, puncture the air with shouts and banging, even at illegal times, and if you challenge them they are all smooth, sometimes, as if they are happy to accommodate my requirement that they revert to acting legally, or as if they are not wrong in the first place.  I feel sick with fear and desperation, and as for the church . . . visit www.christiancentre.org and listen to the Sunday morning, Easter morning sermon, Laurence James-Davis, listen to him shouting, catch the moment of guilty registering in his voice a little later on apparently, to me, knowing he is all noise and no substance, that his shouting is not appropriate, but still he continues.  That is what these people are like here.  Is this the kind of Christianity they have swallowed and are acting out against me?  Dominionism.  Make some noise.  I read in a Christian book, David Wilkerson, I think, that empty cans make the most noise.  These people’s noise, and the way it savages my consciousness, deliberately, sometimes, I am absolutely sure, is literally sickening.

I bought some new clothes last week.  A pack of dogs – sorry, men – passed me and called me a slut.

I went to the police with the violent harassment thing with my neighbours, and they said something about immoral woman and prostitute and told me to leave the station, suggesting by their attitude that they might treat me roughly if I didn’t comply.  Every time I think and get quiet to express myself, these men shout into the air.  This is the most externalised spiritual battle I have ever been part of.  They bark into the air, going straight for my throat, and seem to think it is reasonable.  If you challenge them they laugh or treat you like an idiot.

I can’t cope.  I feel emotionally and mentally raped.  I really can’t cope.  I have no safe place to go.  Even the church is full of defiant and evasive liars shouting from the platforms.  Colin Dye talked about Judas on Sunday (or was it the Chinese guy at 2.30?) and talked about his betrayal and suicide, as if the two belonged together.  That is old pentecostal teaching, and I have swallowed it.  I believe it is right and reasonable, and that to see suicide in any other light is dishonest.  I think if you dissect it finely enough and examine it under a strong enough microscope you can’t honestly come to any other conclusion.

So is there no level of pain or abandonment or isolation that can justify feelings of wanting to die?  Are all such feelings evidence that, somehow, at some level, you are or have been treacherous in some way?  Even if you have been, if you have sadistic, dishonest rub your nose in it people dealing with you, how are you supposed to feel?  They give you no way back to life.  They themselves are wrong, but they insist you take your place in life again on their terms.

These men and their shouting is making me feel violent and desperate.  They are real madhouse material.  I think they are stupid and dangerous and should be taken off the streets.  I think it shows that I feel somehow responsible for them, that I feel this way.  But they are gross and I’m a woman.  The way their behaviour collides with my mind and feelings is completely terrifying me, in my situation as it is.  They are grossly defiant.  Every utterance of theirs is an insistence that it is OK.  There is nothing in their minds that is recognisable to me as being in any way decent.

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.

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

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

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

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

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

Edit note:  1.20 pm UK time.

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

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

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

I felt strong, right and enabled.

Then Peter Dobbie moved in for the kill.

He inflicted a gross enormity on my mind.

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

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

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

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

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

You savage, irresponsible, stupid bastard(s).

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

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

Etc.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Obviously, I would be the mad woman.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do you remember, did you watch, the western, years ago, where someone took revenge on a man by slowly spit roasting him?  Later they came back to him, or someone else did, and the man was all but dead, and he said ‘kill me, please kill me’?  He was handed a gun, and he shot himself in the head.

I was looking at Owen Thomas again this evening, he seems to have been presenting the news all weekend.  I heard what was coming out of his mouth, this man with the presentation of an angel, and it was completely obscene.

There was a man with a BBC tee shirt living next to me.  People used to use my music a lot.  One of the songs I played was a Larry Norman song which had the line ‘with the face of an angel and the heart of a beast’.  It seems to me they have taken sadistic pleasure in populating the media with people like that.

I want to die.  I’ve got nothing left to live for.  Everywhere I go I run into demon-possessed, subhuman, rapacious dogs and killers.  They have killed me.  They have murdered me.  Christians and non-Christians alike.  I wish I had never bothered with any of them.  Some friends these people have turned out to be.  Give me a year, then bugger off, then never make committed contact again.  Even block me twice on their Youtube account.  Leaving me to these harassing, raging, banging, howling dogs that the whole world seems to be peopled with.

And the more distress and pain I express, the more all of them, including Christians, sadistically pump out sweetness and light.  Leaving me feeling like a crying, huddled up wreck blubbering in a corner.

There is no God, they have killed Him.  I might as well die too.  These people, especially the most angelic looking and sounding, are aggressively satanic and hateful.  They have already killed me.  They will not be challenged.  Anyone who challenges them will be open to question themselves, and I can’t see that anyone is willing to be in that position.

I am being eaten alive by spiritual and psychological, open-throated, animal-like, savage cannibals.  I feel I have no existence worth holding on to.  That’s what the bible says: ‘their throats are open sepulchres’.

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.

Then that stupid woman upstairs, with her violent male (if it isn’t her) and all the neighbours knowing what is going on and doing nothing, maybe even part of it, shouted hallelujah.  Whatever the dynamic and explanation, she does it every time my mind comes in to land.  It makes me feel I am being unreasonable losing it in a situation like this, because I am just telling myself that if I didn’t get upset at what they are doing, I wouldn’t need to calm down, and this wouldn’t happen, and everything would be OK.  They impose a sound or vocalisation over everything I do here, whether it is turning on the television, or something on my computer, and if I go into thought it is something that continues, as I have just said.  They have been messing about over my shower and toilet for ages, and today I was having a shower and they started a commentary over me, and I shouted at them to go away, and one of them hammered on my ceiling.  They have been like this almost non-stop for 8 weeks.  If I cough in the middle of the night, she complains with savage contempt and anger in her voice.  And whatever she does, she has to bring herself back to an innocent little girl voice, and I’m still living with what they do.  Today I realised that, at least for a moment, I had turned my shocked and frightened animal reaction to her hallelujahs into a duck.  I just ducked it and smiled and thought, yeah, this is OK, I can do this, I don’t have to be ruled by it’.  Then about 5 or 10 minutes later she shouted it out again, only this time it was more aggressive, and I had an ‘I don’t believe this’ reaction.  She does it just about every day, every 10 or 15 minutes or so.

Now, hallelujah is for me a heart word.  Does that mean I owe this woman anything?  I’m not sure she is even a Christian, she just uses the word.  Jesus is also a heart word.  Someone in computing knows that, because Iwas in a computer shop the other day, and saw an advert for something called ‘Asus’ or Isus’ or something, and it said, ‘it touches the heart’.  To me that is a misappropriation of language.  That kind of misappropriation of language is responsible for a lot of distress and violent feelings in society which are sometimes converted into action and mental illness.  It is deliberate, and aggressive as advertising and brainwashing are, and even violent.  I think I have just realised, since it has been going on for so long with such clockwork regularity, it must be deliberate, the hallelujahs, and she is deliberately using brainwashing and torture techniques.  As soon as I said so, they banged violently on my ceiling again.  I’m a nice person.  I like people.  They can’t treat me like this, it is inhumanly cruel.

I don’t run and get out immediately.  I still have too much of the mental coping mechanism and muscle memory of not being able to run away from frightening and anger-inducing behaviour from both staff and patients on a locked ward.  Also i have no confidence in the authorities over this anyway once they discover I have a mental health diagnosis, they are more likely, judging from past experience, to have me put back in hospital, than todeal with the deliberate violence and harassment which has started in a brand new place with no provocation from me whatsoever.   As my home this should be my refuge.  They have turned it into a place of torture.  I want to dissolve in tears all the time, I want to fall into the arms of those who are harassing me with violence and think maybe I’m imagining the harassment and violence and all I need to do is dissolve and go to them and say i’m sorry and everything will be OK.  Thinking like that is the nearest I ever get to seeing normality on the horizon.  I daren’t go to the police, even though it seems I obviously have to, if they are going to react to me with the disdain that people here react to Roma and people they call gypsys, like someone did me the other day, because I feel volatile and that also wouldn’t be tolerated, and having been abused for so long I’m a bit of a mess, and people don’t sympathise with you for that here, they treat you with disgust, even more than they do in the UK.  They judge you.  If you are a mess it is your fault.  I suppose that is an easy mistake to make, with so many abusive media and government people looking so smart and the picture of innocence.

Anyway, I was going to say, I’m watching Animal Planet, and a man was handling an animal with his legs, and it reminded me of when I saw a man in the West End, lying on the street as if asleep, and the police came to move him on, and when he didn’t move, one of them shoved him with his foot.  This isn’t an isolated incident, and I’ve had equivalent things done to me, but people like the squeeky clean church brigade advise people that, if they have committed any crimes, they should go to these people, these thugs, and confess their crime.  Yes, thugs, whatever the consequences.  I know too much about them.  And certainly I don’t feel able to go to them with crimes of harassment and violence which are being committed against me, with the sweet little girl trusting adoring attitude, or just togetherness, which appears to be required here.

I was angry the other day about the language used about sports teams and people.  how much they talk about punishment and humiliation and being humbled and similar things.  They must feel this, and it must affect their behaviour.  A day or two ago I saw a sportsman on BBC World News, delivering the most grovelling and abject apology and saying how they had been given chances and how they had offended everyone, etc, etc, and if this is what they are being made to feel is required of them, as people, the hypocrisy of those who require it of them makes me feel sick, and I’m glad I don’t contribute financially to that world.

Anti-Psychiatry

I’m really embarrassed that, as someone who has never really believed in psychiatry, and as someone who lost her father to death by overdose at the age of 11, I have got to the age of 50 and never pursued the anti-psychiatry movement with any degree of commitment.

Although I am against the psychiatric view of people and their problems, I know that I am nervous of psychiatric patients and ex-psychiatric patients and don’t really want to spend time with them.

One of the reasons for this is that I think we are all too desperate, and in our own minds too undermined.  Most of the time we are grasping desperately, even at each other.

Another reason is that I think we develop a self-protective dishonesty, even if we didn’t have it before.  I’m not going in there in this post.

Another reason is that, in a structured group, the people running it, in my experience, are usually people who validate the psychiatric approach, or at least won’t speak against it.  For an angry and volatile anti-psychiatrist, like myself, that is not a good place to be.

Today I feel that my life has failed to mean anything, because I have failed to follow this in a committed way, when following it and investigating it properly was my obvious duty, as my father’s daughter.

I put ‘anti psychiatry’ into Google as a search term.  I’ve just started reading the first of the results that came up, the website www.antipsychiatry.org.  It looks as if it has some very well-written articles.

There is a whole school of thought behind this, from the 60s at least.  R D Laing I’ve known about for some time.  I didn’t know Foucault was one of them.

This might sound really selfish, but I feel really upset.  My life could have made so much more sense and been so much richer, if I had only known this before.  To me the obvious reason that I feel this way is that I feel I have something in common with these academics and might have grown up with them and in contact with them.  Obviously that doesn’t necessarily follow.  The feeling I have is, ‘oh no, not you.  I didn’t know you were into that.  Why didn’t you tell me?’, as if they knew me to tell me and I have always been a part of this community and I’ve got lost.  Or something.  I don’t know much about them anyway, I only know their names.  I don’t know why they seem to mean that much to me.  I never studied them adequately when they were part of my education, and they probably just represent this (supposedly) wonderful thing, education, to me, and the youthful ideal of education is what is invoked for me when I read or hear their names. 

What I am thinking, whether I like it or not, is that if I knew something about their lives, I might not be so keen to identify with them in their anti-psychiatric views and see them as the best proponents.  I don’t know anything about their lives.  Even if I did and didn’t like what I knew, that wouldn’t necessarily invalidate what they have to say.  People don’t like my life.  That might make me an embarrassment to my beliefs, or not, but in itself it doesn’t invalidate them.  Right beliefs are right beliefs, whoever holds them.  Like the belief that two and two make four doesn’t become untrue because of the life of the person who holds it.  And I have been taught two things about the universe, that it is both mathematical and moral.

Lady ‘hallelujah every time I cough or anything’ harassment upstairs has been on for the last half hour or so, latching onto my cough and my audio.  She’s doing my brain and my feelings in.  She’s savage.  I don’t know what I mean or what I’m talking about as long as this is going on.  I feel that maybe I never will again.  She is the nearest I have been to a demon and this is the nearest I have been to living with possession.  They frighten me so much.  It is so indecent and spiritually and psychologically violent, I feel beaten about the head just about all the time.  They combine violence and rejection and indecent invasion with a santa madre scenario.  Both at the same time I want to break down in totally reduced and beaten tears, and hit back.  They have been playing a locking and shutting doors game every time they hear me in the corridor recently.  She says ‘hallelujah’ when I cough.  What is wrong with this stupid moron?  Is she frightened of me or something?  Why can’t I cough and fart, etc, in peace, without this indecent and terrifying and desperation-inducing invasiveness?  I really can’t take it much more, and I wish some of these people who want me to think of them as friends (whether they are or not) would listen to me and help me and get me away from them.

I’m wondering if the idea is to make as much invasive and control-taking sound as they can, coming up to 10pm when everything is supposed to go silent, and then just shut up?

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.

People say and do atrocious things, regularly, deliberately, knowingly, routinely, knowing they are wrong, then they do it again, because that’s what they do, but suddenly they don’t want it to have the effect that it does and they apologise, for someone’s hearing, if not for the hearing of the people they have offended.  Names and pack drill, I have the Robert Elms programme yesterday, and every day, in mind, at least on this occasion.  The cheek by jowl set up.  But it could be the rest of the media, or church, or politics.  All of those industries.  That is all they are.

The thing is, they have no intention of stopping permanently.  That is how their industry works, the most injurious, demeaning, subliminal, verbal assaults.  So sorry, but what does sorry mean?  Nothing, except that, this time, we want something and can’t afford to offend you, or someone else hearing what we are doing.  I feel sorry for him.  I think he probably means well.

I love you guys, but sorry means nothing if you don’t intend to change.  Stop what you do, as an act of policy stop it, please, or stop saying sorry when you do it and it happens not to fit what you want to achieve on that particular occasion or someone exposes it.

I hope we understand each other. Any quistions (sic), do let me know.

I’m Sue Barnett.  Now let squet (skit) the weather.

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’ve got CNN on, it’s been on since 11 pm my time, it’s now 1.05 am.
I have said before that they are a criminal organisation, and I stand by that. I haven’t put them on for ages since I said that, but today I thought I’d give it a chance, that they couldn’t possibly be that bad or that vindictive that they would try to do me any harm or insult me so viscerally at a distance which is safe for them that it affects me psychologically.
I was wrong..
They have been doing what they always do, use a personal identifier specific to me, talk emotion and therapy type talk, then talk about communication (twitter is one of the words they use for psychic purposes, just like My Space was right back when this first started for me and other things have been since. I start to fall asleep and they talk in forceful and overloaded concerned and understanding tones about sleeplessness, they cut audio just as it is reaching a zenith and this grey man who looks like a colourless JW crossed with a mafia godfather (as do they all tonight) comes in with ‘yes’ in a deliberately flat tone.

They talk about going beyond borders.

When it first started for me tonight they did some of this then put some children on saying ‘I learn’, one of them saying ‘I learn respect’, and it seemed to me the whole sack of rubbish and psychological and criminal violence was aimed at me.

They did this thing with the sleep bit several times. I fell asleep for a little while, then I woke up to a bit more of it, which they immediately followed up with something about a nutcracker (honest, I swear!)

Looking at them I’d say they all carry guns and have maybe even used them.

It is criminal, sinister, satanism and witchcraft.. It is completely evil and demeaning. It is Satanism and witchcraft, whatever they try to pass it off as. And it is criminal.

Satanism. Witchcraft. Two words I’ve come to feel embarrassed about using. That is how they work, you call it as it is and say what they are doing, then they set about making you embarrassed to use those terms. Our society needs to be exorcised of this evil Really this is how I have come to think listening toi Tommy Boyd.. This is silly, that is silly, silly language, silly words, silly attitudes, while all the time I am dismissing words which actually describe and fit what they are doing. It’s like a doctor being made to feel silly about calling cancer cancer, and treating it that way.

I’m tired, yes. I’m having a bad day, yes. These people are a big part of the reason why. Without their criminal and occult and hateful pursuit and psychological and spiritual violence my life would be much easier. I wouldn’t have first time contacts sneering at me and saying something is all over the media and calling me a prostitute. I wouldn’t have people I want to get on with taking a second or two to look down and connect with their guru or whatever it is they do before responding to me in any way when I eat in their restaurant.

I went to try and buy a watch today. I got back to my emails and found in my spam folder one email saying something about are these watches reliable and another saying something else about watches. I got an email yesterday from an estate agent I’m trying to deal with and the coding on it was all bad, and in my WordPress spam folder I got a comment formatted to look exactly like it. And CNN is linking the name of the Quest fellow with the word ‘profit’ to sound like ‘prophet’, I believe.

And there they are, all coming on black and white and blank, milking the Egypt thing as they have been for days, and people are responding to them almost in tears, and I don’t think it has much to do with the news story., but with the dark undertones of what they are doing.

I’m not sure of his name, John something, he speaks with an Australian accent.

I mean this, honestly, it’s like watching children’s tv, Playschool or something. The over dramatised concern on their faces. You can see them arranging themselves that way when they come on camera. They can’t just report what is happening, they have to act out an attitude about it, all the while using all the stuff I’ve talked about and more.

It is menacing, it is frightening, and for me it is meant to be. This is deep, dark, satanic, dehumanising stuff they are playing with. It is not just in my head. You say this kind of thing and your psychiatrist has you put away. That is my fear today. I feel that beaten up and hateful and angry myself, I feel dark myself.

I just tried to put a deposit on an apartment in Varna, and was told that the owner decided he wants to use it for a couple of weeks, but that the agency can’t help me any more anyway. This from a woman who was doing exactly the same thing when she was showing me around apartments as these people are doing, and yesterday sent me an email saying an apartment I had asked about didn’t have a washing machine and signing off ‘Bet Regards’ and never mentioning that they didn’t want to help me anyway. I phoned another woman at a different office who used my middle name without me having given it to her, as soon as I told her what my name is. I heard a note of recognition in her voice, but she didn’t say anything, other than using my middle name. And I suppose I will be the one seen as devious for not having come straight out at that point and acknowledged a problem. Why can’t people just be up front with the information and lies illegally communicated to them? Why do they have to try and winkle me out and see what my response is when no one has a right to be doing any of this anyway?

CNN has got its own Nick Robinson (or is theirs Robertson?), just like the BBC. It’s got a Fluella Benjamin lookalike and actalike (which is why I talked about Playschool). They have a Larry King (Larry the Lamb, King of the beasts is a lion, Jesus is the lion and the lamb, or is that pushing it too far?) I said ages ago that the names of the newsreaders and reporters on CNN read like characters out of a morality play. Maybe it’s OK, if the sound and implications of the name are a major part of what makes them the right peope for the job. Maybe it is seen as part of the war on terrorism. But it hits vulnerable people psychologically, as well as terrorists. And mix it with stalking and occultism, and you make people like me very desperate.

The most helpful thing I ever witnessed in regard to all this was the making of a Sainsbury’s advert in my local Sainsbury’s. I walked into it by accident in one of the aisles and hung around to watch. There was the main woman, all kind of shopping focussed in an empty headed way, enthusing about shopping at Sainsbury’s and how wonderful it was, but then I realised that the people around her who looked like normal shoppers were not, they too were part of the set. She kept nodding her head, getting into a ditsy character. I stayed and watched it break down and saw everyone go home. Mrs Ditsy turned into a very posh, maybe tired, theatrical ‘luvvy’. In other words, an actress. Of course she was an actress, but it annoyed me that Sainsbury’s shoppers were stereotyped and portrayed and communicated with on the level the advert demanded.

Now it’s bad enough it being a Sainsbury’s advert. But when the news reporters do it? What’s that about? I think it’s wrong. It’s a lie. It’s not reporting the news, it’s using the news and manipulating how it is perceived.

I’m glad I saw the Sainsbury’s thing. I know for certain I am not wrong now. So, the age old question, why doesn’t someone do something about this? If I can see it, so can they. The making of the news is an ‘in group’ thing. They are using, utilising, Egypt as they do everything else. This is an evil and manipulative practice that has to stop. I can understand why the government shut down the internet and other communications and, whether they were the right people to do that or not in this situation, there are situations where the right people will do it and it will be the right thing for the right reasons, even if this is not one of those situations.

And it’s strange, you know. I will sound like something out of the ark here, but they do still face on for the camera and make love to it. It’s just a technique. It makes it feel intimate for the audience. But it’s just showmanship. And some of it appears to be with criminal intent.

I’m Sue Barnett, I have (just) an English degree, have studied drama, am a Christian and know a bit about psychology and linguistics and music and cadences.  I should not still feel the need to say something like this to defend myself, but at the moment I’m a dog being eaten by other dogs and that normally gets me put in hospital.  They might still put me there whether I spell it out like this or not.  If they want to nothing stops them.  That is why I don’t want to come back until I know it’s not gong to happen.

End 2.31 am

4.44 am edit.  CNN, talking about morality plays, also has someone called Wolf.  He was on with the Fluella Benjamin lookalike after I posted.  I’m sure she said ‘Nile tv’ to sound like ‘Evtimi’, which is a name in Bulgaria and something I know as a street name.  That is the name of my street now, in fact.  Then she shouted ‘Wolf’ as if she was calling up a dead spirit or takng command of someone.

I also saw they have their own Ian Lee.  Iain Lee on Talksport openly says that he admires Tommy Boyd, or used to. They both worked on Talksport.  It is obviously psychological stalking of someone, at the very least.  I know, as I have often said, that details of me and my family and other connections areused extensively.  Maybe one day I’ll find out why.  For the moment it has to be enough to believe it must be criminal and illegal, whatever the reason.

Behind the Veil

Are women wanting peace, privacy and protection.

Gosh, this is hurtful!

When I was in London and on the bus, I would sometimes look at Muslim women and think they were so lucky, being able to cover themselves like that.  I thought that, with some of the men they had to encounter on an every day basis, being able to cover themselves must be a blessing and feel like a protection.

I feel like that today after having been out on Bulgarian streets.  I was at the bus station in Sunny Beach yesterday afternoon, and this group of young lads appeared at the stop opposite mine and one of them said, or rather, put out into the atmosphere, ‘Christian!’, then the whole group started playing around with it.   Mimicking and stuff.  Maybe I need to start confronting this instead of sitting there in silence or just staring at them and hoping they will have enough shame and decency to stop or apologise or something.

I don’t know what they were saying, it felt awkward.  I don’t know what they were saying, but there was a lady near them about 4 people away, and she was almost in tears.

And I think the bus drivers are as bad.  That is my interpretation of the scene without the language.  On the bus to Plovdiv yesterday I lost it with a couple of women next to me who, every time they ran out of steam for whatever it was they wanted in their conversatiom, would laugh and say ‘Jesus’, and it always coincided with when I was beginning to be alone with my own thoughts.  In the end I vented, after which I felt stupid and embarrassed and wanted to apologise but didn’t.

I said something like ‘will you stop saying ‘Jesus’ every time your conversation begins to run dry?  He happens to matter to some of us.  You need him for a pretty conversation, and I need him to make sure someone doesn’t kill me’.  A few seconds later I  really let rip with scathing, painful, sardonic, mocking anger and mimicked their attitude saying, ‘let’s all play with the man we killed’.  Self-righteous bitch, I know.  Everyone reacted, sounding uncomfortable and upset as if they had understood.  A man near the front adopted a bitching tone, and I let fly back with it, sounding deeply emotionally disturbed, and said, ‘You know nothing.  You know nothing about me.  You don’t even know me, so shut up’.  At that point things settled and some of the people around me seemed to become more relaxed.  So did I.  I even fell asleep briefly a couple of times.

These women were also going on about diabolos and anglichanka.  so was the bus driver, but not in a tone which carried any significance.  I didn’t hear the bus driver say anything about diabolos.

But near the end of the journey it seemed as if people started to loosen up within themselves.  Looking back it was probably because it was the end of the journey.  People started to chat, there was emotion in their voices, they didn’t sound dead.  To me it sounded good and nice.

But at that point it sounded as if the bus driver and his mate got uncomfortable and started objecting.  They had said something at one point about anglichanka in loaded tones and put the radio on.  I’m not sure if they are trying to cater for me or what.  I try to interpret it kindly.  But they got uncomfortable and started booming.  And then they started yattering and I felt as if it was some sort of communist/socialist ‘this is how it is, we all know that, ignore anyone who says different, they are stupid – like her, no names no pack drill but she knows who she is.  We are the drivers and we are in control and this is what we say’.

The relaxation seemed to disappear and it went silent, and when someone did speak it was in the same dead voice as before.

OK, no further with this recollection.  But this is why I wish I could wear a veil.  I think a few decades ago it was acceptable in England for women to wear veils. Sometimes in some places when women are out on their own, they need the protection of anonymity and if wearing a veil was widely acceptable as an option they could hide from predators of every description easily.

I think in Islam it is not only a religious symbol but also a protection for women.  In that respect I think it is good and necessary.  The fact that some people abuse it should not lead to it being forbidden for those who do not.

Full face covering.  Yes.  Sometimes a woman feels it is a must.  Any woman.  Not just Muslim women.  Can we have it back please?

I’m a Christian, and I’d like to wear a veil.  At least sometimes.  To cover my own shame.  My own shame, brought on by my own actions and words and kept alive by lack of reconciliation and resolution, at the very least on a legal level.  And I personally say this to the shame of the people who are in hot pursuit of me and are, for some reason, afraid, ashamed and embarrassed to use the powers of the law at their disposal and have blocked me when I’ve tried to, not against them, but against myself.  As taught and instructed by the church.  And even by politicians and the media.  They sometimes talk about amnesties and turning yourself in.  Is that and the process that follows only available to people without a mental health diagnosis?  Or are the authorities in my borough, the borough of Lewisham, corrupt?

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.

They work me over so much that I can’t handle the things in my life that I need to handle.  I’m sorry, but they are complete bastards, and that includes Tommy Boyd.

I just listened to Robert Elms on BBC Radio London.  For some reason I got it in my head that I liked him, because I used to read his column in one of the free secretarial handouts on the underground – 9 to 5, or Ms London, or something. He looks nice, doesn’t he?  I really need to learn and become fully convinced, that that is just a selling image, his public image, his persona.

I heard it suggested recently, anout a month or two ago, that John Pantry was giving them training on how to handle things in the studio, psychic/spiritual manifestations, whatever you want to call them, and personal feelings, perhaps.  They are just working a formula and being as personally provocative as they can be.  Seductive lure, provocation, intimidation and monstrous, targeted disrespect combined.

Tommy has a post up on his blog, mrtommyboyd.wordpress.com (link at the bottom of my page), called ‘who killed Jo Yeates?…’ in which he states he has known 3 people who were murdered.  I can’t take it anymore, I’ve got to go public.

I read it, and understood that exactly the same things had happened to him as are now happening to me, except that his were, as I said to him in my reply to his post which I never expected to be used because he never posts my replies, direct hits while mine were only hits by psychological and mental association, albeit a constant stream of them.  He never posts my replies or acknowledges them directly in any way.  He is either afraid or cruel.

Straight after Robert Elms a news reader came on, doing her best ‘I’m not bovvered’, chavvy estuary act.  That is how Tommy’s wife Jayne spoke to me when I went to their house once.  The first time I went they both told me I was very brave, and I sat in one of their cars with Tommy for about half an hour.  Looking back, he seemed fairly desperate for a response, he asked me if the answer was yes or no, and I said no because he touched my knee with his and I thought it was sexual.  I felt comfortable with him on the drive back to the train station, so comfortable I didn’t even need to break the silence except to ask a couple of questions that occured to me.

People will try to make me think, as i do, that this is wrong, but if I generalise they will just ignore it.  They might ignore this as well.  You can safely do that with someone who is labelled as mentally ill.  If in their own outraged state they lose control of their emotions and feelings because of the policy to ignore and refuse to engage with all legally recognised forms of communication, they will get put back in a mental hospital.

As far as Tommy is concerned, I am hurting myself here, and it might be irretrievable. Shortly after the time his wife did her estuary accent on me, telling me I had 15 minutes to leave the property or she would call the police, but when I gave up after 10 minutes because I didn’t want the confrontation the police were already coming to the property as I walked away, so she had probably already called them before she spoke to me (to me that is lying and deeply offensive, especially when you know someone has a mental health diagnosis.  Lying should be illegal, it is a contemptuous act of violence towards vulnerable people), Tommy came on his programme saying that ‘Estuary is the way forward’.  Either people picked it up and ran with it to hurt him or something, or he was deliberately giving instructions as to how to best get under my skin.  The weather forecasts seem to have been shaped in the same way as well, human traits and emotions being attributed to the weather, and it seems to be a way of making the weather the bearer of the speaker’s own feelings.

The last Doctor Who I watched, Doctor Who looked and acted a lot like Tommy and he is, as he used to say, ‘all over the place’, and the girl looked a lot like Allison Ferns, who used to co-host a radio programme with him.  But they were also using me a lot, the massive crack in my bedroom wall in Bulgaria, the layout of my street in London, and other things.

So today, having been totally offended by listening to the way Robert Elms was working things, I then had to have my senses offended by – let’s call her a woman – who came on talking heavy Estuary, as they all do, are they acting or is it the employers’ policy to choose only women who speak that way? – and she read the news, and here I am isolated, on my own, no family or flatmates, people above me tapping every morning so suffering from the psychological violence of that, having this offensive accent coming at me because of all its associations for me that I have written about above, so that in itself is also an act of grossly indecent psychological violence, and I might want to lose it.  I might want to start screaming and shouting in anger and outrage and desperation, at which point they slip in a news article about landlords being given powers to deal with ‘neighbours from hell’.

These people, these broadcasters, they are the people from hell.  They are criminals.  Some of the police are also criminals, before they descend on me.  They don’t care, they are debased and debasing animals. 

I wrote something in one of my posts that, just because I might even make a gesture under extreme provocation and when everything else has been ignored, it doesn’t make me dangerous.  Something was registering on my dashboard yesterday as a search that had brought someone to my blog, the search terms were ‘under extreme provocation, everything is dangerous’.  I was going to write something but decided not to, but instead to do my own search which was ‘Nothing is dangerous under extreme provocation except the person doing the provoking’.  This is particularly true when they are also calling that person crazy or letting the system call them crazy.  A person can only take so much.  They know this and they use it.  That is evil.  That is disgusting and that is evil.  The person can hit back and be legally penalised, or they can be ritually subjected to this harassment and humiliation over and over until they think they need to conform and see sense, or commit suicide.  If they committed suicide, all of these people would be glad about it.  The church would say that’s what happens when people are rebellious and that the suicide itself is the final act of rebellion.  I don’t care what they say in public these days, the fact they are doing what they are doing to me says they really don’t care at all.

At the time that it appeared to me that people in the secular news were getting help (they mentioned something to that effect) Premier themselves, John Pantry or someone on his programme, said John was or had been away because he was training other broadcasters.  This was either true or, in the circumstances, a very sick and vile joke.  I can’t access the words I need because I have swallowed so much false sweetness from these people.

They are arguing with each other using stuff about me.  They are using different language to make observations about me, I think.  Like this morning someone said that the toilet was 3 floors down.  I answered a competition run by Cindy Kent at the beginning of their broadcasting, and the phone box was 3 floors down.  It also didin’t ring when someone called.  So I had to wait and hear the area before I ran down to check the phone, the stairs weren’t lit, the light bulbs had gone, and Cindy said, ‘well, if we have to wait, you can wait’.  I knew she knew who I was.  I knew she had got something from churches I had been involved with.

I am really angry.  I have to listen to this.  This stuff the hospital says doesn’t happen.  I have to listen to them doing stuff on me, covertly, or using language and intonation that makes me hear it that way, and listen to the presenters being under pressure when dealing with some of the things caller say, whether the callers are straight or not.  I think sometimes they are, but it sounds as if sometimes they are not.  I have to listen to the war of words and the war of adverts, all the time feeling as if I am being held hostage by the whole charade.  They shouldn’t be using a media platform like this, any of them.  If a church media platform believes it needs to do something like this and grab at me until I feel hysterical and go out with a verbal gunshot, what is wrong with them that they can’t deal with things in the prescribed, legal way?  They are abusing their platform and abusing their listeners, some of us far more than others, some of us conscious of it and others not.  It’s torture.  It’s illegal.  Every time I switch on I see and hear them using my identity, and have a war theatre constantly thrown in my face.

Everybody knows.  Every one of you scummy fuckers that’s involved, you know!  You pipe and peep and roar and snipe and won’t talk to me directly, and you know why I don’t talk to you, because you would manipulate me into validating what you are doing, and it’s wrong.  Goddamnit, you all damn well know!!!  You know what you are doing and what others are doing.  Why don’t you do something???  Why don’t you commit yourselves legally?  Every politician I’ve ever mentioned, every church leader, every broadcaster, every organisation.  Do you know what?  You stink!  And so do I, but it’s your diarrhoea that’s been thrown at me.  You are horrible, hateful cowards hiding your atrocities behind a call to reason and compromise.  You are hateful.  You couldn’t do any of this otherwise, and you couldn’t let it be done.  Every one of you, you are calling on me to change or respond before you stop your illegalities and blind eye turning.

If there is a God (you would turn my certainty against me), you people need dealing with.  I know what you are doing to me, and on that basis I can safely say that you must have a fair few suicides on your consciences, if conscience is a term you have any time for.  I can’t speak to anyone, you work me over so much.  And you put it into my community so that, wherever I go, people are near rioting outside where I live.  That is without anything from me to provoke it.  David Cameron, stuff your doe eyes at your kids and your head held high walks while you look as if you want to crumble and do a runner. Fuck it, fuck it all.  Fucking do what you’re fucking paid for and fucking help me, you fucking rich, toffeenosed prat!!!  Stop cavorting in chambers with what you get off my fucking blog, either trying to seduce me out of hiding or just get away with what you are doing.  You might think you have better things to do, but I don’t.  You are using my own words to communicate with each other, if not with me.  That, in itself, means you owe me.  Because you know.  Because you are one of the people doing it.  Reference my No, No, No post and your use of it the very next time you were in chambers, as Mr Speaker likes to put it 5 minutes before you come on every Wednesday.  I should not have to appeal to you.  No one should expect me to, even if I myself don’t like the stance that I have taken.  I believe what you are doing to me must be criminal.  While you do nothing except try and look in control, you are at least an accessory to the crime.  Until you make proper contact with me you will continue to be that.  All of you involved in this are colluding to commit a massive, international crime against one person.

The Illuminati also has psychics among its members.  I’ve been thinking that might be responsible for the computer and browser shutdowns every time I strike a clear direction.  Like just now, as well.  But that was more obvious in my writing.  It could be Christians as well though.  Dave Rose commented on the content of an email I was writing to my vicar’s bishop before I had even sent it, and either he or Rick Easter passed judgment on an email I sent to Michael Mish, also before I sent it.  I told him I thought he should set up a community or something like that, and he said he had been thinking of it.  I was listening to a recording of Cindy kent at the time, and she mentioned something about setting up a community.  But I had intended to say that to Michael anyway, at least half an hour before I heard her say it.  I was not sure whether to say it or not after that.  I decided I should, that just because someone else had mentioned what I was thinking of for someone else, it was no reason why iIshould not say it.  Dave Rose or Rick Easter, whichever one of them it was, made an accusing remark about excellence.  To me this is obvious.  It is me it is happening to.  It’s not happening to the mental health people, but they at least pretend they believe they have the right to come in and insist it isn’t happening to me either.  I’ve decided they are dishonest.  No one is as innocent and honestly implacable as they make out to be.  They must think I was born yesterday.  All the silence except for the harassment and the shock and awe broadcasts.  That’s what is doing me in.  I AM ready to crumble and give in and see sense and accept that what they have done is right.  I am absolutely convinced that what I say they are doing, if I’m right, has been absolutely the right thing to do.  I hope that someone else will see that that is the problem (I can’t even say that with conviction) and take them to task.

There is a passage in the Old Testament I have been worried about for some time now, and my unease with it and my gut rejection of it as basic, primitive and misogynistic has grown.

I can’t remember where it is, but I hope church leader readers will know the part I’m talking about.  I think it might be Leviticus or one of the first 5 books.

It says if a woman is attacked or raped and she cries out for help it isn’t her fault, but if she doesn’t cry out for help it is.  Something like that.  I might be remembering it too black and white.  I can’t find it quickly because I can’t remember the wording.

I don’t think there is any provision for if she is being threatened in any other way and is afraid to shout for help.  If she is afraid to shout for help is it still her fault, and does the fact that she might also be afraid for her own life or someone else’s so doesn’t scream mean the man is not to blame for his actions?  If she feels too threatened or confused to scream or register objection outside of the situation, does that mean the man has not committed an offence?

Also, it seems to be allowing a provision that the woman might have ‘brought it on herself’ or that she deserves it in some way.  If there is that provision, people who think that of her or who want an excuse to not get involved would ignore her and judge her even if she did scream.

I might need to look it up to get a better understanding of the passage.  However, when it comes to the way people act and react and judge and reason I’ve got it right.

Edit note: I just found it and read it.  It’s Deuteronomy 22.  If it’s in a field only the man dies because there was no one to hear her scream.  If it’s in the city and she doesn’t scream, they both die because she should have screamed.  That is if she is married or engaged.  So according to the law the man should get it both ways.

Should I assume that rape and violent threat didn’t go together in those days as they do now?  Should I assume that, because of the death penalty, if the woman had screamed the man would have tried to escape?  Should I assume that these good, law-abiding people would always have obeyed the law to intervene and put a man like this to death?  The prophets are always telling them that they tolerate things they shouldn’t.  Would they have turned a blind eye like people do today?  Yes, they would, at least sometimes.  The existence of law has never been a guarantee that people are going to obey it and that wrongdoers will always be punished.  And the Bible recognises that there is lawbreaking among leaders as well, and that they also act corruptly and irresponsibly.

Sometimes Bible teachers teach this kind of passage as if the existence of the laws meant they were always kept without question.  That is bad teaching and poor understanding because it is just not true.

If she isn’t married or engaged, and a similar situation is discovered, the man has to pay the woman’s father for the offence and marry her.  They say in rape a woman’s feelings are mixed. This might seem like a monstrous rationalisation, but I wonder if this is a provision to help her deal with these feelings?  For the man it is a punishment for the offence and maybe an opportunity for expiation.  Hmm.  There is no mention of what should happen if the situation is not discovered.  I suppose it assumes consent from the woman.  At least if it isn’t discovered no one can do anything about it.  So it’s probably just a practical observation.

Joan of Arc

I don’t really know anything about Joan of Arc. except what I read in a George Bernard Shaw play.  She turned up to fight for France or something, and rescued the dauphin (French prince?)  The church condemned her because she heard voices and had her burnt or something, then later decided she was a saint and canonised her.  That’s how the church says sorry and tries to deal with its guilt.  Not much good to Joan, they killed her.  And they haven’t learned from the mistake and her canonisation means nothing, because these days in the same circumstances they put people in a mental hospital.  Grubby people.  Nasty, slimy and creepy.

I was just trying to make sense of why John Pantry this morning started with a reference to Joan of Arc (I think it’s her feast day or something) then followed it up with a subliminal ‘schitz’ reference.  I could tell from his voice he was going somewhere treacherous and that it would be best not to listen to him.  He seems to be trying to act in a woman’s identity.

I feel guilty because how I’ve been taught it is.  I’m writing because of how it actually is.  I think they’ve siezed my books and other personal things that I had in storage in a church.  I feel guilty about saying this because I think I should see it is having taken my things into safekeeping for me.  I was told they had got rid of them though.  No one told me they still had them.  I just thought it became obvious when I heard what they were saying.  I felt ill.  Since then it appears that both Christian and non-Christian media have had acess to my things, because I mentioned a piece of writing I had done that might make people think I was violent, and a day or two later Steve Allen on LBC was saying that it looked more like someone saying ‘every time I say something that is true someone comes at me with a belt’.  If this is true, it isn’t right, is it?  It’s hostage taking and kidnap, even though it feels so much like love I should be grateful for.

I also had a blank book among my things, a big thick one for writing in.  I still have the recording where I think that Anna Raeburn made reference to that.  I’m frightened because I feel as if it’s right and I shouldn’t be opposing it.  I’m very frightened.  If they have worked together on this no one will be for me.  No one that matters to me.  John blips so sweetly he has to be right, doesn’t he?  It makes me feel I’ve wrecked everything myself and I have no right to object, maybe even no right to live.

Is heavy shepherding right?  I’ve used the term.  It might be out of date and out of use now.

I’m listening about 6-8 minutes behind.  John just said quite forcefully that he was going to keep going on.  My stomach hurts, I’m upset and I feel sick.  I feel I am the one that is treacherous.  I really do.  I can’t defend myself against anything, even the face to face stalking I get so openly in Bulgaria.  I’ve never felt such despair and the need to give in to what I have so far maintained is obviously wrong.  I feel I am more wrong than the ‘obvious wrong’ which is actually right, that is being done to me, and I need the ‘wrongdoers’ to help and restore me.  Please someone tell me they are wrong and help me.

My connection to Premier has been terminated, and my post which was showing in the tag search is now no longer showing, even though my Colin Dye (2) post has more tags than this one.  Someone is constantly taking a decision to disempower me.

His name is Esteban.

(Copy with some tags I had to exclude.  First published 11.08 am Bulgarian time.)

I watched the recording last night of last week’s sermon by Kristian Lythe.  I had forgotten his name, I’ve not seen or heard of him for ages.  But Kristian mentioned him in his sermon, he had made a traffic lights illustration.  He was saying something about red lights, among other things.  I don’t know how much of the sermon I would need to talk about to have you understand.  It can be found at http://www.kt.org/media. (note: please don’t be distracted by the shouting and his insistence on having the word of the Lord or anything else you see and hear.  If any of it is true [how much of it can be?] it is still not the point).

I don’t know how they get hold of information like this about people in my life, but it particularly concerns me that they have sufficient information about this man, Dr Gallo, to use a lookalike of him. Maybe my concern and the way I am handling it are stupid, selfish, treacherous and ungrateful.  I was assuming that they had the information through having had direct communication with Dr Gallo, but that might not be true.   But if it is true, although personally and emotionally I would like to come out and patch things up, I really think there is cause for concern here.  They had told me to leave the church.  I haven’t been there for over a decade.

What are they doing with something like this, it is none of their business, and neither Dr Gallo nor anyone else has ever brought this connection up with me. I’ve known for ages they do the same things with close family and past friends and acquaintances.  As I have said before, I do feel love and I do feel loyalty, but this is stalking, in a way the psychiatric team has told me doesn’t happen, or at least, isn’t happening to me, and they have partly based their diagnosis on my insistence that it does and is.

My Christian response is my biggest felt response, but also I need to keep identification with others in the psychiatric patient community (excuse terminology, maybe I should talk more in terms of mathematical sets, for which being a part of one doesn’t necessarily imply relationship)  and recognise that this is stalking, it is a step, or more like several steps, too far in ruling a church and church discipline and discipleship, I need to employ the term ‘heavy shepherding’ because people recognise it, and recognise myself that this is what is happening in this situation.

They and other churches I’ve been involved with have been challenged many, many times by me about this, in emails, through my blog, and emails are not answered and no conversation entered into through my blog.  David Shearman’s church bounces my emails back to me, whether I have mentioned his name or not in the address or body of my email (I no longer send them and have assigned any responses to ones I do send to the spam folder) saying david.shearman@christian-centre.org is not a valid email address.  If this is supposed to be heart talk for please come home, then I am sorry, and it is probably my loss.  That email address used to be valid, I don’t know if it is only me that gets that kind of response, or used to until I stopped emailing.

I’m very, very sorry, but this is awful.  I feel awful for handling it this way.  I’m not even fully convinced that they are wrong to do this anymore, and that is one of the reasons I need feedback and help from people in whom I have expressed trust who might be more convinced than I am.  I am too emotionally caught up to fight, and the way my readers distance me, on the whole, makes that worse. These people know who they are, and some of them know I love them because I believe they are the sort of people who would want to help and not cause injury.

I might be mistaken in my assessment, in fact at the moment I would like to cause injury myself and have obviously felt that way for ages.  I don’t think in a situation like this that makes me nuts or dangerous, even if under extreme provocation and in distress I even employ gestures to demonstrate how I feel when everything else is ignored.  When I was a kid ‘I’ll kill you’ meant ‘you have gone too far’, not ‘you’d better take steps to separate yourself from me and protect yourself’.  It might be crass and it might not be used in the kindest of relationships, but that is still the way it is for plenty of people who are not considered to be in need of incarceration.  I had it said to me plenty of times.  I’ve never thought of considering that anyone who said it should be locked up.  But maybe I should, on hindsight.  It is emotional thuggery if nothing else.

Ps I have heard Christian leaders involved in this say ‘prove it’.  In something like this that is neither honorable nor Christian.  Robb Thompson was one of them.  He might have been talking about something else.

Tommy, I really do believe this is something that needs to be dealt with, not only for my sake, but for that of others as well.  You have taught me well on that and I’m grateful (even if I don’t always feel I like you very much).  It is as close as a church can get to kidnap.  I know even this gesture towards you rather than coming to you directly is enough to break trust.  I feel that and it feels irrevocable. Partly I feel I’m disempowering myself in any way I could relate to you, and I believe you also need me to be empowered in any relationship we might have, as I need it myself.  So maybe this is just useless empty gesture time again.  I am implicating you, but I’m implicating you to try to empower you, if you think that is something I’m capable of.

My uncle says Christmas is the same as any other day.  When things aren’t as you would like them to be, this is a perspective you need to keep hold of. Because of my church and family background, I believe Christmas is special.  I feel as if I am betraying myself and Christmas by writing this.  That if I made the right approaches to the right people, my Christmas could be redeemed.  But even if that were to happen once, this year, there are other Christmasses to come where I might not be so fortunate.  So the point is, you always need to make your own decisions and not run round looking for rescue remedies, even at Christmas.  The celebration of Christmas is an exterior thing.  But I still wish I was doing it and had done it in the past, and I still want my friends and family, and still feel ashamed that I haven’t invested in them and that, consequently, I will never know and experience, and neither will they, the kind of relationships we might have had.  Blah, blah, blah, whatever, whatever.  They threw my mother at me yesterday.  These media rapists.

This is a crisis time for many people, including people ‘with mental health problems’.  A lot of suicides occur at this time of year.

That isn’t because of the time of year.  It’s because of the way it is sold to us and the expectations and ideals we are taught to have of it.  It’s the way it is marketed by people who want to make money out of it and those who help them to advertise. Some people’s minds have already been so raped that it’s more than they can cope with, so they go into crisis, or commit suicide.  I think staying away from the television and radio might be the best thing for most of us at this time of year.  Truth and reality are within us, not on the tv and radio.  They are selling an illusion and a lie, and most of them know it.  It’s all about materialism and trade.  Hear me, please – that is ALL it is.

I just watched some Bulgarian television.

Within a few minutes they said something about Stara Zagora and pissed.  Just right for anglichanka ears.

I experience speech like music these days.  Especially if I don’t understand the language.  It’s quite nice and relaxing.  And if they pull a trick like that, it backfires on them, because I am not distracted by what comes afterwards, out of their mouths, because I can’t understand it anyway and it can’t dazzle or influence me.  So I can continue to watch and think my own thoughts and make my own observations, mistaken or otherwise.

Here are some thoughts and observations from this morning, mistaken or otherwise:

It was a live breakfast programme, a bit like the ones we have in the UK.  The setting is like an expensive city house.  There was a cookery slot.  The fare was economical.

My thought was that they are trying to tell Bulgarians that they are poor, when actually they are rich, in everything that matters, as long as they don’t develop a serious case of built up city-itis.  In this programme it looked a lot like the city-house surroundings were the important thing (and the unrealisable  aspiration of many, as it has been in Western Europe), and meagre fare was a price you had to pay to reach that ideal.  Or maybe villagers aren’t the target audience anyway, in which case I’m a poisonous cow.  No sorry, forget that, there is an ideal and a philosophy being pushed here, whatever the target audience is.  It is designed to be influential.  Otherwise why bother?

There is no security in this, only a continual grasping.

While people have land, they are rich beyond compare.  The people they call poor here, they are the ones who really are rich, and that is not a statement I am making for sentimental appeal.

The people they call poor, the village people, most of them have their own land around their houses.  That is wealth.   We hear about the landed gentry (or used to, have we moved on?)  But what about the landed poor?  The landed poor are richer, in real terms, than the housed rich.  They can grow what they like.  For meat eaters (which I am not) they can rear what they like.  They need never be hungry.  If those with more give to those with less, it evens out.  And also people can exchange things with each other, both goods and services, without money, and without price.  That endures when economies crash.

Without the language I’m a bit ignorant.  I don’t really know what ideology people are trying to sell and push for.

I know I’ve been in many hotels here which appear to have more staff than guests.  The Bible talks about ‘to-ing and fro-ing across the earth’.  Someone has sold us the lie that peace and contentment and security and being settled and established are boring.

I’m going to buy a house here, unless someone decides to stop me.  It’s going to be in a village.  It’s going to have land.  The wherewithal to create my own wealth.  I hope that, in the future, this country does not start bulldozing villages to make way for cities.  The villages are the foundation.  Good, real, organic life is in the villages.  Life, farming, community, shared skills and the opportunities to learn.  Kill the villages, get the youth of the villages wanting something else and despising what they have there so they want to move out, get the older people with life experience undervaluing themselves and their history and what they have to pass on, dismantle these communities, self-perpetuating, self-sustaining, with real wherewithal, make the economy dependent on something else, a selling idea, more manufacturing-based, more handing over money based, and it will eventually be disastrous for the economy.  Just as it has been for the west.

Back to the land.  It’s good.  It’s progressive, not regressive.  It’s not compensatory, it’s the healthy reality we should never have abandoned.  Test all things.  Hold fast to that which is good. 

The failure of a bad and illusory idea is not the failure of humanity.  It is not a shame for people to abandon a lie and embrace the truth.  That’s what the Bible calls repentance. The lie is ‘you can’t stop progress, you can’t turn back the clock’.  

Whether the lie is working for them materially or not, if it’s a lie, and it is working for them, materially is the only way it DOES work for them.  For the ones at the top, they are envied and despised and a cause of false shame to many who are struggling.  Maybe we can’t blame them, if they are working as honestly as they know how.  It’s what they have been sold too.

I heard a programme on Radio 4 this week, ‘In Our Time’, by Melvyn Bragg.  They were discussing the Industrial Revolution.  I hardly went to school in my teens, so if ideas were discussed (I don’t remember hearing them being discussed out of class time) it’s not something I would have felt able to be part of.  But I can remember standing in a dinner queue one day feeling really upset and isolated, because I was standing there believing with absolute conviction that the Industrial Revolution had been a bad thing, and I really wanted other people to see that and to be able to do something about it, but I thought I might be a bit of an oddity, and I didn’t know how to talk about it anyway, even if I thought there might be people who might agree with me.  I think I felt overwhelmed with differentness.

The fact is, I’m 50 now.  Most of my life is past, unless I live to be over 100.  That is a real grief to me.  What could have been and what could have been achieved?  My past feels like a blank, and my future unrealisable.  I already feel as if it is all over.  What could have been achieved should have been achieved by now.  Maybe I’m just being ageist against myself.

Edit note 10.36 am Bulgarian time.

I was apalled when I re-read this post at my own self-centredness and self-consciousness.  I was thinking about this last night, how people tell you you are self-centred or too self-consciousness, as if it is an accusation and they are pointing out a failing.  I was also thinking maybe they don’t mean it to come across that way, maybe they mean to teach.  I thought that if you want to teach with something like that, you need to dislocate the thinking.  I thought that usualy people put the emphasis in the wrong place, they talk about self-centredness instead of self-centredness, and self-consciousness instead of self-consciousness. The part that is stressed should be the part you are questioning.  It’s not the consciousness and the centredness that should be in question, but the focus of the consciousness and centredness.  If the person trying to address this in another emphsised the word ‘self’ in the communication, the other person might start asking, ‘why, what other kind of consciousness and centredness is there?’, and that is a question which enables teaching to take place.

I’m talking about redeeming my Christmas.  What about everyone else’s?

Anyway, I started this edit note because I used a tag today that was new to me, Rape of a Nation.  I looked to see if there was anything else tagged that way, and I found this film.  I feel and believe it is dealing with and showing some of the consequences of thigs I have meanderingly thought about and painfully tried to express out of my own ignorance and stupidity in my post.  So here’s the link.  If it doesn’t show as a link, in my browser you can right click on it and it says ‘go to link’.  My link buttons remain disabled.

It’s a short journalism film about how the diamond trade operates in the Congo.

http://www.mediastorm.com/publication/rape-of-a-nation

 

The one who played a song at me about cock-sucking.  Came out tonight, said ‘God’ loudly, and then did an iron fist/velvet glove act with his friend. 

This psychologically violent and rapacious dog (that’s what a non-Christian might say, I’m not supposed to say it, but a non-Christian could and probably would).  The answer is ‘NO’!!  If you read this and see him you can tell him so, from me.  I’m not sure what he is about, or his friend.  I’m getting frightened to talk about my feelings, because people have started making noises about mental health interventions again.  They always hit me early with that.  Today it was the house of Lords.  They were trying to play self-satisfied, melifluous intellectuals.  I started watching from the beginning, about an hour and a half into it.  Baroness whatever her face started the main business, saying ‘question’ like ‘quistion’.  I find that violent, and it affects the way I hear everything.  But I think they were struggling themselves with my post earlier today, the one about coded communication.  I’m hysterical because of the way the encounter with this guy has left me.  I want to prattle.  What is he/are they expressing?  Ignorant, but eager and innocent hunger, or something else?  It was a bit like a childish game to them. A God game.  Who is He going to speak to?  One plays the hard man and the other the soft.  Between them they take what they want.  My thoughts and feelings and the reactions of my body are my business and my responsibility, but I still left feeling I had been clubbed, people are hooking on to me, and my tongue is tingling.  The God fashion.  Nick someone else’s clothes right off their body if you don’t know how else to do it.  Oh My God!  Why can’t they leave women alone?  And the cocksucking bit.  it might make sense to them, and I think I can see the sense it makes, but it’s still wrong and horribly violent.  Just where do they get it from?  I’ve wondered if that is the way communists dealt with Christians before, as a form of persecution or something.  Knowing neither the language nor the history is not helping me.  I wonder if they are like the Russians, who deny their own bloody history, saying it never happened?  If they are, I’m not going to find out the truth from them.  They had the radio on.  When the headscarf guy laughed and said ‘he’s talking to you’, who was he talking about?  I thought he meant God.  Maybe he meant the man on the radio.  I don’t know, I left trying not to be pawed, and as I did they banged on something (that’s common too).  It’s horrific.  It’s mental rape.  I’m so tired.  I managed to get my shopping today.  This wasn’t how I expected to feel at the end of it.  I had several groups pass me in near silence today, then laugh loudly just as they passed.  That’s what made me start wondering about the communist bit.  Whatever it is to them, to me it feels like hatred.  Maybe I’m just expressing a conscience in trouble.  Maybe it’s witchcraft.  I’m just tired.  I’m too tired to analyse it.  I think writing confuses my feelings more than anything else I do.  Especially when I’m being stalked.  It gives people a hook.  I keep losing my page connection at significant points.  I don’t know if it’s a psychic thing or if I’m getting what they used to call ‘booted’ in the chatrooms I started out on.  That makes most sense to me, but sometimes it happens even when I’m not connected to the internet, also at significant points.  I shouldn’t write like this, it’s trash.  Is it me?  Is it just a personality and a relational problem?  No.  I watched the House of Lords today.  Something was going on.  It might be just me, FOR me, but for other people exactly the same kind of thing is just them?  I will never be able to socialise with most of these people, they are just too weird.  Maybe for ‘weird’ read hungry.  I need to sort my computer out, it keeps crashing after I installed a substandard device.  When I get my head clear, the people who walk past do the weird stuff.  And the cafe is messing with the radio, and playing ‘get God’ games.  I’m writing like this in a desperate attempt to try and recover myself.

Is this place really as evil as I think it is? 96% Christians?  That has to be a lie.  I don’t even know why they would want to be or give that impression, and if they think psychological violence is the way to do it, I wonder who their examples have been.

I picked up my new glasses today.  I hope I can read with them.  They don’t seem as strong as the ones I lost.

Day 2 – the shouting men are here again.  Hence my ‘organised stalking’ tag.

49 Or 50?

49 or 50?

(Or, as I heard a politician say today, neither fish nor foul!)

50 IS a special age.  If they say it isn’t, they’re lying.

I just thought I’d get this in now to be awkward – here in Bulgaria I am 50 years and 1 and a 1/2 hours old.  In the UK I am still 49.  Which counts and why?

When I realised I was 50, I smiled.  It was automatic.

Then I looked at where I am and felt suicidal (I’m not exaggerating).

I don’t know why or if I’m right (I’m probably not), but I believe 50 is God’s age.  That is, a special age to God.  It’s God’s reaching of majority.  5 is, my tradition tells me, the number of grace.

Whatever anyone might pray for me or try to bless me with in the future, no one can ever give me back the attaining of my 50th birthday.  That has gone.  Reconcile that for me someone, please.

I feel embarrassed making a big thing of this, because now I’m actually writing it doesn’t seem that important.  I also feel as if it is an insult to God to be so faithless for the future.

But I still felt that way, and it still is a big thing.

Check out WordPress’s Freshly Pressed.  Awesome.

PS Premier likes playing a song which I believe they are at least in part directing at me, and it’s a big part.  I can’t remember all the words I want, but it goes something like:

“I have come . . . down the road of my own mistakes . . . wasted years” etc.

For balance, I have to recognise that I am not their only intended audience, or at least I shouldn’t be.  They also play songs rejoicing and triumphing over enemies.

They say it is always your choice, and the bottom line is, that is true.  Sometimes the choice can cost you your life, and the church won’t be on your side.

It seems to me though to be a rather polarised approach to the human condition, including our spiritual condition. Blaming yourself for everything is no less the blame game than blaming other people.

I don’t know any more of this girl’s songs, but I hope that isn’t her settled position towards herself.  The Bible doesn’t mind saying that sometimes other people are to blame.

And the ‘blame game’ (I got that from Anne Coles).  Is it REALLY a game?  Isn’t it a necessary part of owning responsibility.

Blame isn’t a game, it really exists and needs to be dealt with in all healthy and growing relationships.  It is, or at least can be, a heartbreaking experience.  But surely nothing is more deadening to the soul and spirit than to live in a fuzzy, wooey, vibrating mulch where no one is allowed to recognise that blame exists, and also that it might not belong to them?

You can’t just say, ‘let’s not talk about it, let’s not play that game, let’s go and watch a film/go to a restaurant/go out witnessing.

Fuck me, you bloody can’t! (trans. I feel strongly about this and want to cry).

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