Tag Archive: women


Redwood 2 Care Plan

Name Susan Barnett :                                                                                                                                                               Rio :

Mobile Phone care plan

Current Issue

Susan has been accessing a blog page via internet to which she has been breaching confidentiality by naming specific patients and staff.  Susan was informed of the seriousness of this incident, to which Susan expressed she will continue to utilise the blog. Due to this Susan (sic) phone has been placed in the safe and is accessible under supervision.  Due to the risk of her utilising the internet via her phone.

Aims and objectives:

– To be able to monitor Susan, whilst using her phone ensuring confidentiality isn’t breached.
– To help Susan appreciate the seriousness of confidentiality both, from staff and to staff.

Patients (sic) Objective:

– To have an understanding, and awareness of confidentiality.

Nursing Objective and treatment plan:

– To maintain safety of staff and patients
– To educate Susan of the importance of positive communication with her social world

– For Susan to use her phone supervised by staff.
– For Susan’s phone to be stored in the safe
– to be reviewed in weekly review on 25/06/12

Date to be reviewed: weekly in review

(young female staff nurse and young male student named as signatories)
Date: 22/06/12
Signed: (by me)

End of document.

I was called into an immediate confrontation in the staff office as soon as I walked through the door after the leave in which I wrote my last post.  What this document does not say is that, because they had found and read my blog (at least bits) without me having given them details of its name or whereabouts – and contrary to the insistence of someone, it cannot be found just by looking up details for Highbury Hospital; I tried that myself and gave up looking for anything from my blog after page 6 of the search, though it came up immediately in the first 2 or 3 results when I entered a qualifier – They also took all my leave away, so I was confined to the ward over the weekend until I was reviewed on the following Monday.  Before I signed it – I didn’t consider if I had an option given the pressure and apparent anger in the room, where they told me their complaint/concern was going higher – I made all the notes on it which I had raised in conversation, that as someone who is not a staff member I am not bound to recognise or abide by a duty of confidentiality, I have not entered into a willing contract with them – ever over the last 16 years.  I pointed out that my phone and blog were separate and that my phone was used only for calls which were supposed to be private.  I wrote I hadn’t named patients – I think I have been careful not to.  I also wrote at the bottom “I believe this is an illegal restriction, provocation intimidation (sic lack of ‘and’) and the staff will know that to be true”.

I had a reasonable weekend with 2 of the staff in particular, and I am not sure why the next decision was made, but on the Monday I was discharged from my section and made informal, thus having as much leave as I choose to take (which often works out to be less than I would have taken when I had a restricted allocation).  I also, from Monday, started refusing my medication, and until today I don’t think I have handled myself badly, but now I have been angry at a really outrageous and out of order (so I believe) staff member, and before that I was expressing distress to a female staff member who knows what he is like, and though he seemed to me to be imposing himself on my speech and conversation from the office without actual involvement, she received everything I said in silence until one imposition too many made me snap at him, saying he was out of order and my anger was not.  This, however, makes me feel afraid of what the consequences of that might be, and that is how many of them get away with so much bad behaviour and unprofessionalism.  There is sometimes a psychological subliminality to what they do, resulting in stronger feelings than if it was up front, in my opinion, which is lay.  IE the ordinary person who experiences it.

More to follow.

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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.

More Tales from the Redwoods

My mind is all jumbled today, it has been pretty packed with activities and observations.

The smoking square is right outside my bedroom and people raise their voices at my radio, even though it isn’t loud.  It makes concentration hard.  Blow it, it makes just listening hard.

I had a review today.  I asked them to decrease what they have been giving me for anxiety because I am walking around feeling the same as I used to when I was on sleeping medication every night in London.

They have left my leave as it is, 1 x 4 hours to break up and use as I want, plus 3 x 1/2 hour for local shops etc.

They also told me they wanted to increase my olansapine.  We got into a heated discussion about that.  They talked about ideas that I was being harassed, and I pointed out that they didn’t live with me and why were they so insistent on calling it ideas instead of accepting it as reality.  Dr Khan, the SHO who was conducting proceedings today although Dr Fahy was there, asked why I thought I was the only person being harassed and I said I didn’t, but he insisted that I had said that, and I said I hadn’t and insisted that I didn’t think that.  He asked why I thought I was so important that this could be happening to me, and I said he was being rude and asked him why he thought I was so unimportant that it couldn’t be.  He asked who I thought was doing it and I said how could I know if it was organised crime.  He asked me why I thought they were doing it which, as all illegitimate and out of bounds questions do, left me feeling hit in the head, and I said I didn’t know and that what mattered was that it was happening, not why.

Dr Fahy, or Dr Khan (I can’t remember now) said they were also worried about the level and degree of distress it was causing to me and people around me and she tried to fnish her sentence before I came back at that, which I insisted on doing, and I pointed out that the distress comes from other people before it comes from me, that if it were not started from others I would be happy. I didn’t get the opportunity I wanted to say that the degree of distress is because they always handle me like this and that they were giving me no hope or protection for the future.  But afterwards I wondered what they thought was the maximum degree of distress allowable in my circumstances.

I did my laundry this afternoon.  I went to the office to ask someone to unlock the door for me so I could get it out.  Jess was there with a big fluffy bear slipper or something.  They didn’t even look in my direction as I knocked, but she started touching the slipper or whatever it was in what, on a real animal, might have been its private parts.  On purpose, it looked like, and continued to not acknowledge me.  When she came to the door she had a really strange smile on her face.  I later remembered when Tommy Boyd had talked about licking the underparts of a badger, I think he said, to cure a headache.  That people used to do it and it worked.  He used to say that he wondered how people first got the idea.  Or was it a beaver?  The first time I heard him refer to the badger or beaver was the night after I had broken down in sobs, years ago, waiting for the phone to pick up the other end, or something, phoning someone else (I don’t have his private number), and the next day he played something which sounded like me sobbing the previous night and asked people to guess what it was.  Someone said it sounded like a woman crying, but he later declared it to be the sound of a badger or beaver.  I can’t remember if anyone got it.

He also played this game with Allison Ferns with the Queen song, ‘Don’t Stop Me Now’, where he kept stopping it as it was building up and Allison was getting frustrated.  I remembered that after catching some of the Steve Wright show this afternoon on Radio 2 and thinking that they were deliberately reproducing the action of dopamine or seratonin blockers, verbally, bringing it up to interest level then smashing it down so I, at least, was not able to maintain the interest and the thought that came from it.  It made me angry.  It was the first time I had thought of what they were doing in that way, as reproducing the action of dopamine and seratonin blockers.

While they are playing these coy, or not so coy, games, a programme is on Radio 4 tomorrow at 9pm called ‘All In the Mind’, which is going to look at the ‘fact’, so they say, that between five and seven people die every week under a mental health section.  This is not something to play with.  It isn’t fair.  I’ve taken every baseball game position possible to ask for help or if I can help, over the years, and I’m now wondering why.

AOL is featuring a story of the queen with a bloodshot eye, and a piece of film where Prince Philip first looks at the camera then looks into his binoculars.  I’m not sure if there is any actual connection with the fact that Tommy Boyd has one eye he can’t see much out of because he said he was bitten by a dolphin, I think.

Being a write bloody bitch is hard.

Mine is not to reason why
Mine is but to write or die

Or risk trying to explore these things in a real face to face

Or try to retrieve any chance of a relationship buried under my cowardice and shit.

One woman has been on this acute ward for about a year.  Another for two.  So they have said.

A lookalike of a new patient, who is in turn a lookalike of Dorothy Shearman, came on Come Dine With Me this afternoon.  Everyone reacted, silently.  We are afraid to be the first to say anything in case no one else joins us.

I really think the drugs companies and the psychiatrists are knowingly dependent on each other, to some extent, for their living and have no wish to rock the boat with real reality.  The obviousness of it is so filling my mind with words to speak of it that I can only reduce it down to ‘disgusting’.  Love covers everything except organised abuse and agreed cowardice.

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.

Excuse Me, Can We Talk?

When I was young, this is how I understood you approached a person for a relationship or conversation.

The current trend, which everyone seems to do to me all the time, is to grab your ear without engaging you in conversation, then fire little bits and snippets to try and ascertain if ‘you are the one’.

This is not a form of conversation starting and finding out I am open to, and when it happens I feel stunned and detained for another person’s purpose against my will and I feel powerless and abused, because all they want is to satisfy themselves that I am the one they have heard about.

Yet, someone is ill or injured on the street and people walk by.

Recently, appropriately or not, I want to collapse, just give up, let my legs stop   holding me up and fall to the ground.  Just stop trying, not even necessarily lose consciousness and that is what I anticipate might be the problem, because if I am not supported in that moment and if people leave me I might end up in the hands of the mental health services as has happened before, unless there is someone who will stay with me and insist that doesn’t happen.

So I can’t stop, I daren’t and everyone wants to use probes to find out if I am who they think I am and what they have heard is true, but they don’t care about me as a person and coming up to me and saying,’are you all right, can we talk?’

No one knows or cares, unless I say so, that I am in a violent situation and my stomach hurts and I feel sick and as if I have to deal with the situation myself because when I ask for help nothing is actually done to change the situation.  Therefore I feel as if I need to buy a cheap dinner service and ask the violent and harassing ones round for a meal, while I am actually living in fear day and night, then when I get away from the flat feeling embarrassed because I think I am being immature and over-reacting and it is all my fault and who do I think I am and I should know better.

And I write far more than I want to on posts like this because people keep grabbing my ears and life in that way and I get so angry I lose control of where I am going.  I’m a paying customer and it feels like harassment and extortion, not to mention personally invasive and disrespectful.  It makes me feel trapped by their assumptions, unable to back out of things then accepting responsibility for a choice which was eventually not made completely happily, and I feel, right now, as if I am under exam conditions, using an internet cafe, and panicking because I feel as if I am being expected to stop writing this and talk to the proprietor at his insistence and expectation.

I have no boundaries of protection that are respected.

This has been how it is for years, and I feel sick.

More slamming doors, incorporating my speech pattern into his speech, clearing his throat and employing a tone towards me as soon as I walk in.  I do not have my own voice.  These people are deliberately stealing and demanding my right to myself and what is mine to give, and I suppose I have to pay for having used the service as well.

He is angry, among other things, but he will never say so.

This is the only internet cafe I know in Nottingham.  But I feel hurt and everything.

Another Home, Another . . .

She keeps screaming hallelujah, day and night, several times a minute during the day, they are violent . . . talk about deja vu!  I’ve written to the council.

Guess who is feeling responsible again?

Someone knocked on my door this afternoon.  Twice.  It was an official-sounding knock but no one spoke or announced themselves, so I don’t know who it was.  I’ve decided not to do deja vu on the way I treat knocks at the door.  If they don’t announce themselves as police I won’t automatically assume they are or act out of a knee jerk feeling that they are.  I’ve decided not to answer the door if I’m not expecting anyone and I don’t know who it is.  If they say they are the police I will answer, but I am still nervous.  I never know what decisions they are going to make about me and I am scared.

They can hear my radio when I have it on, a small DAB radio.  She hallelujahs at the end of every song, and every time a song mentions baby they are they conferring together saying ‘hmm, yes’.  I’m trying not to panic, but in the circumstances it is hard.  I’m more afraid of the authorities than I am of them.

I’ve got temporary council housing in Nottingham.  I’ve been in it for 2 weeks, I don’t know if they are going to house me permanently and if it would mean a change of address if they do.  I’ve been under pressure to collect my belongings for ages and have just learned that an estimate given by a removal man’s business friend in storage was very underestimated.  I was violently ejected off a campsite in Wales by an ex-police owner.  Almost 3 weeks later and the bruise on the inside of my arm is almost vanished.  My uncle lent me money which I decided to use for breathing space rather than make a decision under pressure to enter into a contract.  The campsite owner kept all my belongings and the camping equipment I had just bought, saying I didn’t own anything anymore.  I think I left with just the clothes I had on.  I had told him that one of his staff had touched me and been harassing me, and instead of dealing with it responsibly and professionally, he dealt with it that way.  I’ve asked twice for a social worker and heard nothing.  The council here knows what is happening, I have told them.

All told I feel sick with apprehension and embarrassment.  I reported the campsite incident to the police in Swansea, under the misapprehension that Neath came under Swansea.  All told I was there from around 4pm to around 11.30pm, and while I was in the interview room I was treated like a circus act and barracked and heckled from officers in nearby rooms, and they were laughing.  They were getting all the dirt they could about me and letting me hear it, and when I joked about my wellies from Tescos being a bit too tight for me because my right leg was too fat with a couple of the female officers, one of the male offcers said ‘that’s more like it, a friendly joke, not assaulting a police officer’, as though he had a right and that was the whole story and as if he did not know the abuses I have been through myself in my life.

I’m frightened of the police and mental health services, and I have asked the council for support I haven’t received or had the request acknowledged, at least I have received no letter.  My mobile phone was among the things the campsite owner kept hold of.  I can’t afford another right now.  I’m wondering if this situation is going to be used again to frighten me with mental health admissions.  I’ve already had several assessments in the last few months where it was decided I didn’t need to be in hospital, but not having any money or security and having my stuff taken from me left right and centre and another bout of 24 hour harassment is freaking me out.  Because before, in London, they said it was all in my mind and kept putting me under a section.

The woman I last spoke to at the council seemed to be trying to be understanding and sympathetic and human, but I have heard nothing and I don’t know what is happening or what decisions are being made and why.  I have told them so much which historically has been used to section me.  And people are reacting all over the place, as before.  It seems as if everyone has an expectation that I should tell them everything.  I’m thinking about the people’s courts under communism.  It is really terrifying, not least because I don’t feel free to express how offensive I find it.  If you confront people with their behaviour they can get really nasty.  They like to pretend they are not doing anything.

I think I’ve got £15 until next Thursday.  I made sure I topped up my bus pass for a week so I can get around.  I’ve got a fair amount of food.  I feel crazy with pain and fear and anger I daren’t express, and not knowing.

But my neighbours seem nice.  I feel treacherous and stupid.  I haven’t lived in Nottingham for ages, and I don’t know what is normal and what isn’t.

As I said in my letter to the council which, all being well, they should get tomorrow, I keep feeling as if it is me that is being perverse.  I’m wondering if she has learning difficulties, but sometimes it feels like a complete wind up, and as always, her timing is impeccably uncanny.  I’m not sure of the spiritual mechanics of it, but it is.

Sometimes they seem really nice, and one of the guys up there seems emotionally upset by it all.

I’ve told the council we need help and support.  I said we, not just I.  I haven’t heard a thing.  It is a week ago.  She said she ‘insisted’ that I stop reacting as I was breaching the terms of my contract.  But after agreeing with her, I now feel and believe that the terms of the contract were not written to inhibit understandable human reactions from people who are in a situation like this one.  But I did agree, saying also that if I agreed to stop then we needed support. . .

I’m frightened of the police.  I feel I have to go through a charade with them to communicate and try to get help, and it feels humiliating, because I often feel they are being deliberately ride and obstructive when I try.  I have so much anger built up, and I often hear them getting details on me and the fact that I have a history with the mental health services.  I know that is meant to help them have some idea how to assist, but it usually doesn’t feel as if that is what it is for at the time.  I always see it as a threat when they start talking in those terms, even though rationally I believe now that seeing it that way is a mistake.

But if their idea of helping me is to refer me to mental health services . . . that is what I am frightened of.  Their own conditioning which they act on without question and resent it if I question it.  I am frightened of the powers they have which I cannot resist.

I miss Max.  I’m really upset.  I liked him and felt as if I could trust him from the first time I heard him speak.  I’ve not stopped thinking about him, but it is now over a month that I walked away feeling unable to cope.  I didn’t mean to stay away at the time.

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.

On Sunday morning 5th February between 9 and 10 am I was in the O2 Shopping centre at Finchley Road, NW3.  I have never been in there before or got off in the area for years.  I had noticed an express hotel while passing on a bus and although they had no rooms, they were happy for me to buy tea and coffee through the night and buy breakfast.

I decided after standing at the bus stop for a little while that I would go in and see what was there, see if I could get a cup of coffee.  I went into Starbucks at just after 9am.  A young policeman came in directly behind me and as soon as I had finished asked for a fuckochino.

I’m sitting in Caffe Nero at the moment fighting for emotional possession of what should be mine to possess, where they have repeatedly looked at me as if I am a nuisance since I came in, and they are trying to do some sort of operatic thing behind the counter.  I’m finding it distracting and an act of sabotage, at least in terms of emotional connection, so my writing is hurting me.  I heard something recently which makes me feel that the police might have leaked a photograph of me to people and places like these, or maybe this is just the way they deal with people they really don’t like the look of and don’t want around.  I say again, schizophrenia is imposed by ruling dishonest savages and is not inherent in the person.  They advertise free internet here, but seem to be doing everything they can to distract me in my use of it.  It is not supposed to be their creative space to the distraction of the customers.  If I wanted opera I’d pay for it or find it on the internet.  I certainly don’t want to be involved in an angry psychic improvisation in a way that totally grabs at and demands my attention, for whatever reason.  It is 8.07 am at Canary Wharf.  It seems there is a wave they grab at with singing every time I start to think and feel.  I feel fear and distress and hurt and anger.  Betrayal and discrimination.

But back to Starbucks in the O2 shopping centre at Finchley Road.  And if I don’t manage to write all I know is in me to write, I might hopefully be able to come back to it later.  These coffee bar people seem to think they are the new 5 star hotel staff or the aristocracy themselves, but that goes for all service staff everywhere, in my experience.  Always imposing themselves, no discretion or sensitivity.  They have the rights, they say in writing, and their power is always upheld.  But we are paying and they are the paid.  So if they distract or impose themselves it is an act of theft, as much as anything.  I know my recent writing must have done the grapevine, and they are deliberately trying to distract me.  That is harassment.  I’ve never been in here before.

I asked the policeman if he had asked for a fuckochino, and his mate (3 or 4 others had joined him, including a woman.  I only remember one but maybe there were two) said to him ‘did you ask for a fuckochino?’ and he said ‘yes, I did’, and they made a joke of it.  I talked about verbal assault and harassment and went and sat down with my coffee.  I sat in a corner as far away as I could manage in the hope that it would keep them away from me, and also there was an electrical socket to plug my laptop into, which was what I needed.

Anyway, they sat level with me, but on the other side of the room.  They sat there effing and blinding loudly for ages and no one challenged them.  They were talking about crazy, crazy cat and vegan frappacino, which is something I had quite a lot in Starbucks when the weather was warmer.  They have told me their syrups are all vegan, so I have it made with soya milk and without cream.

Shortly after they started this a man came in with his young daughter.  I think from memory she was around 10 years old.  I had noticed her on the escalator earlier.  She had lovely long red hair.  They sat in front of me facing me, and I hoped they wouldn’t leave as I saw their presence as my safety and protection.  But these officers must have gone on for about 20 minutes or more in this vein, and eventually one of them said something about the position being clear.  They seemed to be watching my reaction and gathering from it that I was not going to get involved, but blog.  Soon afer he said about the position being clear I said my position was that I didn’t like them sitting there harassing me and using that language, which anyone else might have been arrested for, and talking about crazy.  Although they went quiet as I was speaking they didn’t acknowledge me, but I think they left in a sort of silence a minute or two later, no apologies to me or to anyone else.

Afterwards I sat there confused, feeling as if the attention was a positive thing and that it would be treacherous, unreasonable and perverse of me to find anything wrong with it and to try to expose it.  I thought they were trying to centre with me, perhaps, and stripping themselves of all decency to make me feel secure and communicate that they wanted to talk to me and wanted me to trust them.  What else, after all, is supposed to be communicated by their lovely smart uniforms and their clean, fresh appearance?

Then I thought what if it was someone else being treated like that?  If I accepted it as positive for myself it would be saying it was OK to do to someone else.  And at Heathrow I was arrested for swearing.  Mine was in desperation and anger but theirs was a constant stream of non-stop, jocular, almost barrack room stuff.  And there was a little girl and her father hearing it all.  Recently they have been saying to me that there are children around when I have been angry with them, and I have said that I didn’t care.  In the situation it was emotional blackmail.  These officers did not care that this little girl was party to this behaviour.  I’m not sure they thought about her at all.  They could see her.  When they have challenged me with the statement that there were children around, I couldn’t even see them.

I was thinking last night about something I have read quite often, that there are people with such low self-esteem that even negative attention is seen as something to be desired.  That is me.  In the presence of such a clean image, even if they are acting like that, I feel like such a low life that I deserve it, or that they are even engaging in an act of kindness to tell me that they are approachable.

But yesterday I thought (I have just looked at the girl behind the counter.  She looks very angry and defiant of me.  She knows as well as I what they are doing) would anyone want their mother or grandmother or wife or daughter or any other female to be treated that way?  If I ‘OK-ed’ it for myself, would anyone else thank me for that?

I stopped to think just now and when inspiration began to come, when I started to level out with my own emotions and thoughts, one of the girls behind the counter said ‘here we go again’.  It is a deliberate act of control and sabotage.  They have just started singing again in the same harassing way.  I was not going to write about them, but since they are taking from me the things I am wanting to write about, they have brought it on themselves.  I’m not sure who they are doing it for.  Every time I stop to feel an emotion they whine it out.  That is a statement of fact, not hatred speaking.

I can’t go into it in depth in these conditions, I can’t access depth language and expression or thought or memory reconstruction, but I was feeling that I have lost my sense of where the boundary lines ought to be, that I felt guilty about not accepting their behaviour with gratitude in the first place, and that I still do.  The officers were completely inappropriate in their behaviour, and it would have been equally inappropriate with or without the presence of the child, and whether it had been public or private.

So that is it.  That is that incident from Sunday.  There were about 4 or 5 others over the course of the weekend, but this one was completely unsolicited in a place I have never been in before.  I’m almost afraid to make such a categorical statement, but I believe it cannot be OK.  However extraordinary the situation, proper procedure and approach should always be adhered to.

I told the girl’s father that I loved her red hair and thought it was beautiful.  I did think it was beautiful, and I wanted to say so, because there are so many instances of redheads being bullied and I read about one recently, and I wanted to affirm her.  Afterwards I felt as if I might have been stupid.  I tried to stop the father as he was leaving and apologise if my comment had been stupid, but although I think he heard me say ‘excuse me’ he didn’t stop.  At the time I only saw them as being a protection for me.  I didn’t think about them being equal victims of the situation at all.

A few minutes ago the girl behind the counter said loudly, angrily and challengingly ‘I’m spiritual’.  She has loudly said ‘sorry’ a couple of times, but not to me, though it was meant for my hearing.

A few weeks ago I read and commented on a blog called ‘disable me’.  I feel as if I am being conceited even to mention it and to say this is a deliberate attempt to disable and control.  The way she is talking at the moment I have an image of someone parading themselves angrily on a platform and insisting on being acknowledged and looked at.

Finished 9.32 am

She has just said ‘baby’.  And now she is singing Cum by ya, and has gone into mocking singing.

Edit 9.42  They are openly and derisively miaowing at me.  It is savage.

Continued from ‘Police Stop and Search Slashed’ post.

Some time after 6am I found myself confronted by two police women asking me what I was doing there and, as I tried to explain, they talked me down and I thought they were rude, so I persisted in trying to explain until I got upset and they said I wasn’t being very nice.  They said they were trying to help me, all I could see was that they wanted to move me on, and I felt as if I had been a specific target.  I just thought they were really rude and unintelligent in the way they communicated and I was trying really hard to make them understand how I was feeling and how this was not a permanent or particularly chosen situation for me to be in, that I had tried to get a crisis loan and the systems had been down, and everything else I said in the post I referred to in my opening line.  They were pointing at me and being really provocative and aggressive.  Not violent, aggressive.

The next thing I knew they were calling backup, and 2 male officers arrived.  The way they looked at me and treated me and teased me about the way I was behaving, I lost it.

There was a male member of airport staff with a white shirt sitting opposite me, he had been there for about half an hour.  He had been speaking, it seemed to me, for my hearing, even though he must have been about 25 feet away.  He was lounging backwards and eyeing me and his body language was challenge and domination.  He continued to watch and listen intently, almost as if he was theatre audience or in a court room, while these police women were talking to me, and he was freaking me out.  I told the police I wasn’t going to talk to them anymore while he was sitting there doing what he was doing and until he was removed.  He was just eyeing me determinedly, but they refused to deal with him.

One of the male officers said loudly at some point, ‘all women are crazy’ and I wanted to make it stop and make it unsaid and take him to task but there seemed to be no way to do it.  I didn’t know how to handle it.  I was horrified and couldn’t believe he had said it.  Eventually they were dragging me out of the airport and he was continuing to be provocative.  I was objecting and he was saying ‘no one cares’, and it felt like a personal and emotional invalidation.  I had recently heard on The News Quiz on Radio 4 that 700-900 officers in the Metropolitan police have criminal records, including GBH.  Someone has told me since this incident that people with criminal records are not allowed to join the police and the records might have been gained while with the police, but I don’t know.

Anyway, I was wound up and swearing, and the same man said ‘if you swear once more I will put you under arrest’.  So I said, not feeling able to back down at that point, ‘OK then, fuck off’.  It was funny, he should have laughed and seen how inappropriate he was being himself.  The woman officer at the station I told as i was leaving laughed when I recounted it, and that felt like a real relief.  But instead he just said straight away, ‘right, you’re under arrest’.  At some point he put handcuffs on me.  My right wrist was black and purple for almost a week afterwards.

I said they were acting illegally, and that while I might be on the wrong side of the police, the police were on the wrong side of the law.  I said they were illegal, he said contemptuously ‘we all know what you are.  I asked him what and he wouldn’t answer.  I kept pressing him for an answer and he wouldn’t say.  I started shouting the odds again about the figures for police with criminal records, addressing the people around me, and he kept saying ‘no one cares’.  I said that wasn’t true.   I get one incident mixed up with another so I’m not sure how much I said on that occasion.  So I won’t make it up as if I can.

Every time I spoke they were speaking into and over me, if that makes sense to people.  I said they had killed my father, that he had committed suicide, but that I wasn’t going to commit suicide, I was going to blog.  At the same time that I was saying I was only 11 years old when my father committed suicide, he was saying, ‘I bet he killed himself because of you’.  I’ve heard that only one other time in my life, from a class mate straight after his death.  I was outraged, like an animal in pain.  He had no right to say that, but no matter how much I objected and kept trying to say they had no right to do what they were doing, they just kept mocking me and talking me down.

When they took me out of the van they gave a skewed account to the desk sergeant about what had happened and I said it was a misrepresentation.  They were being strict and confrontational, I said I had an appointment with the housing people about getting emergency housing at 11am (it was between 7.30 and 8am) and the sergeant said ‘I think you are going to miss it’.  I said ‘I bet you’re going to keep me here until it is too late for me to get a crisis loan today as well, aren’t you, so I will have no money tonight either, so what do you expect me to do and what good do you think you are doing?’

I felt I was being treated unfairly throughout and was angry and trying to be heard, but they were deliberately ignoring me.  I’m not sure if I had mentioned the harassment and vigilantism at this point or not.  But somehow it came about that the man who had been saying the things I have written started saying with seething anger, ‘she is going to come up to the desk and talk to you like a lady’.  I said ‘I will start acting like a lady when you start acting like a decent man’.

They insisted I take my watch and therapeutic magnet off.  I said I didn’t want the disorientation of not even knowing what time it was, but in the end I relinquished them, and my necklace which I won in a Crisis at Christmas raffle, because the way they grabbed my hands it felt as if they might break my fingers if I didn’t.

At 8.10am they put me in a bare cell with a bed shelf and mattress, a blanket and a toilet.  There was no toilet paper.  They said they would get me some breakfast but I got nothing until lunchtime, by which time I hadn’t eaten or drunk anything or been to the toilet for over 12 hours.  I had not been offered a drink during this time.

They told me at the beginning of the morning that I could see a duty solicitor.  I left without having seen one.  They were reading something at the beginning while I was upset and shouting and they said ‘that’s a no, then’ to something I didn’t hear.

Soon, after not having slept all night, I started to fall asleep on the bench.  As soon as I did I heard a male voice shout out, and they were banging.  This happened several times, that one of them shouted out as soon as I began to fall asleep.  I felt desperate.  I later saw that there was a camera on the ceiling pointed straight at my bed.  I wondered how closely they had it trained on me.  Over the last 2 days I have thought seriously that they were deliberately using sleep deprivation and I believe I am right.

Their idea of a vegan lunch was chips and some vegetables, no protein.  I gave up trying to eat it, I was so upset.  I asked if i could have a cup of tea with my soya milk, but they said no, I couldn’t have anything which had come from outside the station, even though they had no soya milk and didn’t offer to get any for me.

Several times, at least through the afternoon, a male officer would walk up to my cell door, stop outside and cough hard and significantly, and walk away again.  It frightened and angered me.  I kept feeling screaming and hysteria rise into my throat which I had to control, because I knew expressing it would do no good.  I kept wanting to speak to them like friends and ask for their help.

On the ceiling inside the door there was a sign that said there could be a monetary reward for anonymous information leading to crime.  When I saw it I said something about bribery and corruption.

I have felt over the last couple of days that they had me there expecting me to ‘talk’.  But they never asked me any questions.

Later in the afternoon I said something about a cup of tea and that I was a vegan and didn’t drink dairy milk.  The officer was angry and rude and dismissive.  He brought a cup of tea, even though I had said i didn’t want black tea, and I also didn’t want water, which was all they would offer me instead.  So when he turned up with this I wondered what it was and asked him if it was black or if it had milk.  He said it was powdered milk, and put it down on the floor rudely saying ‘it’s tea, do you want it or don’t you?  You either want it or you don’t’.  I ‘said’, ‘I’m a vegan and have been for 4 years.  That is my life choice and you are being abusive and disrespectful’.

There were no books, nothing to write with, nothing was offered, and I was harassed constantly and not allowed to sleep.  I was a wreck.  After all that and everything they had put me through in the morning, I think at some point I asked them when the solicitor was coming and what we were waiting for, and the officer said we were waiting for a doctor, because they thought I needed a mental health assessment.  I started shouting angrily and hysterically, saying after everything they had done to me and without having seen a solicitor, they wanted to subject me to a mental health assessment, and I said all they were really interested in seeing from me was naked fear.

When the doctor came I was taken to an office with an open door, and as we were talking the police started to interfere again in the same way as they had been doing before when I was speaking, but pretending it had nothing to do with me.  I had asked for the door to be closed for privacy, but the doctor had refused and said it wasn’t necessary.  When the interventions came I started to be afraid and panic, and they kept them coming until I was unable to control my fear.  The doctor refused to recognise what was happening, and he ended the interview telling the police, after I had gone, that he thought I needed a mental health assessment.

I didn’t find this out until several hours later when I asked again what we were waiting for and when the solicitor was going to arrive.  All day I was not told that I would not be seeing a solicitor.  They said we were waiting for a mental health team because the doctor had believed I needed an assessment.  Again I became angry and hysterical.

Before my father died we had a dog, which survived his death by a few years.  When he was alive my dad used to take him out with a big stick.  I think there was a nail in the stick at one point.  I used to tease my dog with the stick and thought it was really funny when he went running under the settee screaming.  I have realised in recent years he was terrified and been really upset at myself for what I did.  He would come out all docile and upset and exhausted, qlmost as if he was crying and telling me he was upset.  Loving and trusting me and telling me, his tormentor, that he was upset and frightened and taking comfort from me.

That is how I felt when they started talking about mental health teams.  I thought they did it to make me scream, and they got that much, at least.

The mental health team decided I didn’t need to be in hospital and told me the offciers were going to try to find me somewhere to stay that night.

When the evening shift took over a woman came to my cell.  She seemed nice and sympathetic, and when I told her what the offcier had said about my father killing himself because of me, she seemed genuinely shocked and said he shouldn’t have said that.

I can’t remember all the order of how the last part of the day happened, but she told me that, because I had been arrested, they had the power to take my DNA and fingerprints.  I believed that saying she had the power was not the same as saying it was something they HAD to do, so I asked her if she was going to do it.  She said a male officer was going to do it.  She said he was a ‘good lad’, and I wondered what that counted for with people like the police.  What would this ‘good lad’ do with people who were not me?

I didn’t believe there was any point trying to resist or persuade, and I don’t know how I let them do it.  I knew throughout that it was unjust and an assault and although she kept trying to keep it light, I felt as if I was standing there having to pretend it was OK for them to rape me and believe the people doing it were ‘good’.  I couldn’t lash out.  They forced it through knowing as well as I did, I believe, that they had no right to be doing it and it wasn’t OK.  It was all a pretence and they were demanding a pretence of me. I was not at liberty to say how repulsive and abusive it was, although we all knew it.  I had to stand there and pretend that this enormity was a small and inconsequential thing, not an act of illegal subjugation and domination.

Afterwards, when I was standing at the desk, I saw a male officer behind a glass screen sitting in front of a computer.  I wasn’t sure if he had been there all day, he was acting as if he was part of the next shift.  I started watching him while he was watching his screen, and wondering what he was doing or reading or looking at.  My attitude was open, and as I watched, I saw him begin to smile and his smile got bigger and happier.  I thought he was reacting to me and I looked around and saw a camera immediately above the desk.  I realised he was watching me and immediately switched him off and turned away from the camera.  As I did his features darkened.  His number was ID 24.  A few minutes later he came out and said he was leaving and finishing his shift.  But I realised he was observing me at the desk through the camera.

After he went the woman officer tried to contact the out of hours crisis loan office, but there wasn’t one in that area, and no loan could be arranged.  Also they couldn’t arrange somewhere for me to spend the night.  Before I left she started talking with her colleague who was going to run me to the bus station.  She was talking in ways I felt I recognised, about ‘her 2 year old’ and that she was ‘vain’.  She seemed to be commenting on my bodily reactions that she could see from behind.  She talked about something being ‘back breaking’.

I had already talked to her about people talking in code.  I believed she was talking about me.  I thought she must be, she couldn’t possibly be calling her own child ‘vain’.  I couldn’t, at that time, believe she would do that.

Her colleague ran me to the bus station in a van exactly the same as the one I had been brought to the station in, and I sat in the back, exactly the same as before.  I felt it was a deliberate re-enactment, reversed, of what I had been through in the morning.  I almost felt as if they were saying that, if I had responded differently, I could have received (more) help.  I thought they had said I could hang around the bus station with everyone else, because there were people there all night.  But when I sought to clarify this as I got out of the van she said she hadn’t said any such thing and that I could be picked up for doing so, that it would be best if I didn’t.  But she knew I had no money and nowhere to go.  I wondered if she had been trying to get a last second capitulation from me.  I wanted to go back to the airport, it felt like the right thing to do and my right, but I was afraid and didn’t, I got on the tube.  I was upset and disorientated.

They had held me for 14 hours in sensory deprivation conditions, constantly harassed and banged at and coughed at and deprived of sleep, deliberately, I believed, and subjected to mental cruelty and torture.  In all that time I never saw the solicitor I had been told I would see.

11.41 am.  I’m blogging after more police harassment at Starbucks, 99 St Martins Lane, WC2.  I want to laugh now.  I think I bring it on myself by not responding to their attitude and insistence on getting the last word with a sense of humour.  I think it shows I am not a good citizen, not having a sense of humour when they behave this way.  I’m not sure how they would react if  I were to laugh instead of outdo them and get upset and tell them they have no right to do what they are doing, etc.  I might feel better myself, if I could approach it with a sense of humour.  I feel I should say I am sorry for not respecting them in their job, and just laugh, then it would all be behind me and the world would be all right again.  That if I had done that years before I might not now be a 51 year old menopausal woman having to come to terms with the fact that I have not had children.

After 4 nights without a bed and people keep coming at me psychologically and leaving me feeling assaulted, I committed the crime of falling asleep after a cup of tea and a bag of nuts, which is all I can eat in Starbucks.  A little while before the police came I heard someone banging things around me, and that was obviously their idea of trying to wake me up.  I don’t respond to that kind of thing, though.  Also I find it hard to stay awake at the moment anyway, being aware, as I am, of the kind of psychological harassment I am getting from sales and security staff, let alone ‘ordinary’ people in the street.

The police woman, CW 2598 or 3598, with subsequent things from them after I got her number ‘m not sure if I have remembered it right, came in and told me I couldn’t just sleep there.  That it was coming up to lunch time and I couldn’t just occupy a seat without buying anything.  I said I had had a cup of tea there and I buy quite a lot of stuff and no one had tried to wake me.  She said they had.  I suggested I could go to the toilet and get another cup of coffee, then, as they do, she turned control of the conversation back round to herself by asking me what my plans were after I had just told her, and when I told her again she said OK and just stood there.  I asked her if they were going to stay there while I bought the coffee and she said yes, that they wouldn’t be doing their job otherwise.  So I was expected to buy a cup of coffee, hand over my money to these people, under police watch.  I snapped out of my drowsiness and said I would rather write to the company and complain about harassment, but that I was going to the toilet first.

I went in, used the toilet, brushed my hair and brushed my teeth.  Before I was finished the male officer (there were 3, 1 man and 2 women) knocked on the door and asked me if I was going to be long.  I said no.  When I came out they were all sitting there waiting for me.

I passed them and went up to the cafe staff and told them they hadn’t spoken to me or tried to wake me before calling the police.  She was acting as if she didn’t understand what I was saying, and said they had tried to wake me.  I said I was prepared to buy another cup of coffee, if they asked the police to leave first, that I was not prepared to do it under police watch.  Someone said something and I said I had the right to buy another cup of coffee.  One of the officers said the staff there also had the right to ask me to leave if they wanted to, so I asked them if they wanted me to leave rather than buy another cup of coffee, and they said they wanted me to leave.  The police then took control as I tried to walk past them freely and dsimiss the situation and walk away with some dignity, the woman whose number I have mentioned kept ‘backchatting’ me, so I went up to her to look at the number on her lapel.  I couldn’t see the letters, they were hidden, and she didn’t offer the letters, so I moved the strap, and then she began to get defensive and angry, saying I couldn’t just touch her strap to get her number (why not, after everything they do to me?  This isn’t just about doing a good job, is it?)  So we had a small argument and in the end I told her to stop the sass and the attitude and began to walk away, and as I did she kept it coming.  The male officer started making mocking gestures at me.  He kept it up for about 5 minutes.  I stopped in the street and said that I was not now acting illegally, just standing by a lamp post, and they stood there with me. They did not want to leave me in peace or in control, or acknowledge my rights with any semblance of real recognition or sympathy.

They crossed the road, still making gestures, and I shouted after them, saying they were supposed to defend the weak, not harass them, that they were supposed to be a service to the whole community, not just the money makers, I said they despised us and we despised them (where are all the people who hate the police when I am the one getting harassed?).  I said they were hand in glove with the money makers and the mafia, at which point the male officer making gestures looked as if he was about to come back over, but stopped.  I thought he looked angry.  I believe I spoke the truth.  He went back to the gestures, with a couple of men standing between us and just looking in my direction smiling and finding it ammusing, even though I was obviously distressed, and I shouted at him that he was not supposed to be standing there mocking me with his gestures and that he would have gone to a Victorian insane asylum and mocked people there, as was the sport in those days of a Sunday afternoon.  That is the way it was opresented to me, anyway.  Maybe it wasn’t just the Sunday sport.  Maybe they could do it any time.

People talk about putting the mockers on people.  The Bible says that God will mock, and that he who sits in the heavens will laugh.  I have often wondered down the years if this mockery from people in authority that I have been taught to respect and trust is actually a legitimate part of their approach to people in some circumstances, and thought that my problem with it shows I have a problem with and a bad attitude towards authority.  That my heart is wrong and my dispositon is wrong and that I am rebellious and ‘a bad lot’.  I have thought on many occasions that they would have turned and done everything they could to help me, if only my attitude had been right.  I feel that, over the years, I have, in pride and arrogance, rejected my own redemption from all these wondeful people in society that have said they want to help and that I have accused of harassment and stalking.  How arrogant and selfish of me.  That these people, who are also suffering with me and trying to reach out to me for themselves, for me and for others being caught up in my situation, should have arrogant, proud, independent, ignorant, selfish, power-loving little me shake my naughty fist at them and say ‘no, it is stalking and harassment, you have no right and unless you come to me with the words of your concerns openly I will not respond to you’.

I’ve offended my leaders, i’ve lost Tommy, so it feels.  I want to see his face loving me, and can’t see how he could be anything but ashamed and disgusted with me, as well as hurt for himself.

i burn with shame.  I think I have played an unforgivable and selfish game, and that the consequences I am now suffering in final loneliness and childlessness are my own fault.  I think I am on the scrap heap where my leaders said the disobedient end up.  Yesterday I felt the problem was me and always had been, and had never been anyone else’s.  To some extent and in some respects that has to be the truth.  They used to say that you can’t just think of yourself as being as good as everyone else.  But that was what I did in my teens.  I used to think, look, I  can speak in tongues just like you.  I used to sing the songs and as I was singing them think this isn’t the way it is for me, but I never voiced that to anyone.  Except I think I did to Diane.  I can’t shift this self blame, and no one can help me to.

 

Police Stop And Search Slashed

The Evening Standard, Thursday 20th January 2012.

There it was, sitting on the front page of the Evening Standard, and I wanted to read it and knew I had to pick one up.  It is a free paper these days, so that was not a problem to me, even with under £20 guaranteed me to live on for the next 7 days.

I noticed several people within a minute doing the same thing, and smiles on faces.  Quiet smiles, but undeniable happiness and joy, nevertheless.  A tangible relaxation and relief.

“Police Stop and Search Slashed”, it said.

I couldn’t understand why everyone was not shouting on the streets with joy.

That is the power of a headline for you.  The keyword was ‘slashed’.  It didn’t say ‘ended’.  It was about an hour later, after making a happy fool of myself and parading my newspaper down the streets and shouting out like an Old Testament prophet (for I felt that was the power of the spirit within me) that we should all be having parties in the street and organising a whole month of street parties to celebrate a victory for civil rights, that I realised we had not all been sprung out of prison after all.

Singing and dancing in the streets.  Expressing and perpetuating the happiness and relief that was obvious in the people around that newspaper stand.

——————–//——————–

The whole and actual story is that the aim, at the moment, is to reduce the number of stop and search incidents and make the facility a more effective tool, perhaps concentrating on geographical areas of high crime.  The goal is that the ratio of searches to crimes detected should change, with the former coming down and the latter going up.

It is acknowledged in the article that there are many community leaders who still see stop and search as a valuable policing tool, without which violence and crime might increase.  Interesting, given the evident joy and relaxation on people’s faces.  That was how I saw and perceived it at the time.

We need to celebrate every small move in the right direction in the restoration of civil liberties.  I think organised street parties would not be a bad way to show that we are onside with this move and that we are happy about it.  Happiness does not produce violence, and from what I saw, we are happy.

When weak people resort to violence it is an expression of fear and outrage, in my opinion.  In physical powers for violence and the authority to allow certain officers to get away with abusing those powers, at least temporarily (some of them might hold the opinion that being brought to justice later for those abuses is a price worth paying for the ability to carry them out in the first place), the police are not the weak party.

The article also said something about the fact that the police should be calm and professional in carrying out searches.  This much should be obvious, and it should be obvious that any officer who is not able or willing to meet those standards should either not be working on that day, or should be relieved of their position permanently.  If it doesn’t happen already, I believe that a daily assessment should be made of an officer’s state of mind, maybe family circumstances etc, and their ability to operate those powers responsibly and respectfully with everyone they approach.

We, the people, need to allay the fears of our leaders, insofar as they are real fears, by showing appropriate joy at this development.  As far as the fears are hypocritical in themselves, we need to disarm the people who tout them dishonestly.  We will not resort to violence, we will show our approval and joy at this decision.  Our joy unbridled disarm people using this excuse hypocritically, and in some cases expose them, and that is necessary.

Personally I wonder how far the presentation of this decision as being intended to improve race relations is truthful and accurate.  I know this is not just a race issue.  This is a police and people issue.  All races suffer and have suffered from the employment of this power.

To bring the story back down to my sad, sole self again, as is my habit, twice this week, on two consecutive days, I was an object of unwelcome police attention.

The first time was Tuesday morning at Heathrow airport.  I was there the first day because I had tried to apply for a crisis loan at about 2.30 pm on Monday afternoon.  Without it I could not afford a roof over my head that night.

I had held the line for about 20 minutes waiting for the phone to be answered.  By the time I got through I told the person I thought it might be too late for the application to go through anyway.  She said her systems were down and it wasn’t possible to start an application and to call back in an hour.  I said that, by that time, the offices would have stopped making payments, and she told me that alternative arrangements would be made for paying out, since their systems were down.  I asked her if she knew that and what the arrangements would be, and eventually she withdrew that assurance, saying she had spoken to a supervisor who had told her that it was not possible to make alternative arrangements for paying a crisis loan for that day.

So with the little money that I had I looked on the internet for a cheap dormitory room.  The best I could come up with for the price was a mixed dorm, which I would rather not have if sharing a dorm is a necessity.

After paying the online deposit I realised that the hostel did not accept cards for payment of the balance.  That was a problem for me.  It was 6pm, I did not have any accounts with the minimum of £10 that would make it possible to take money from a cash point.

I checked the money in my pocket and realised I was 65 pence short of what I needed to pay the balance.  So I went to the Co-op nearby, where I knew I could get some bread labelled vegan and that I would enjoy eating, and bought some food with my card, which was the best and most practical thing it was good for at that point.

While I was in there I hatched the idea of asking someone if they would let me pay for one of their items with my card and them give me the cash, if they had been intending to pay by cash, but no one that I asked had been intending to pay by cash, so I gave up asking because I felt embarrassed.

Eventually I wondered into Charing Cross tube and rail station and walked up to a food outlet.  I saw a man getting money out to pay for his purchase, and asked him the same question, explaining my situation.  He just said he would give me the 65 pence, and actually gave me 70 pence.

Even then, I realised I did n’t have enough money for the key deposit, which is usually about £5 or £10 per stay, and I hoped that the proprietors would be sympathetic and understanding and allow me to stay anyway, given that I could pay for the room itself.

However, when I got there one of the first men I encountered was a staff member whp came up to the desk referring to someone being a ‘stupid, dumb cunt’.  When I told him a minute or two later that I had found it disturbing as my first encounter, he said someone had put an empty plate into the microwave and something about a fire or a fire hazard, and passed it off that way.

After he had gone I discussed my situation with the girl on reception, and she asked for ID or some sort of security.  I said they could look after my laptop, if they wanted to.  That was after I had suggested one of my account cards as identification.  She rejected both of those suggestions.

She said I needed government-issued photo identification, like a driving licence or a passport.  I pointed out that I was British and that this had not been necessary anywhere else I had been over the past 4 months, and that I didn’t drive and that I had lost my passport which, as a UK citizen, I am not obliged to possess anyway.  I told her I could pay for the room but not the key.

She said it was the rules that there had to be photo ID.  I didn’t remember seeing that on the listing and also said that they didn’t have the right to impose stricter rules than the law itself imposes on a UK citizen and that I thought they were acting illegally.  She had already told me that I couldn’t stay and checked it with her manager at my request who confirmed that, and I left with nowhere to go and not enough money to book something else.

So I headed for the airport, and I have already written about what was happening there in my last post but one.

(To be continued)

Moan, Moan, Moan . . .

I need to abandon this.  She has just, this minute after 2 hours at now 4.30 am, stopped talking.  I was eating a sandwich and drinking a small bottle of wine and every time I took a bite or lifted the co-op plastic party goblet to my lips, she screeched out or otherwise marked me.  It completely ruined it for me.  What should have been a pleasant late meal and a drink turned into a desperate, defiant act.  I felt I was acting like an alcoholic.  I need more than ever in my life to control the direction I am taking, and all I ever get is spoilers on my case.

So abandon ship.  The conversation ended as soon as I wrote the title and completely changed where I was going to go, which was to start off by saying that I am writing this morning out of my unredeemed self at 4.30 am taking an ear bashing and ball game type marking from an American baggage.  She had actually got up to go, but she has just re-appeared.  A couple of times in my unrestrained open talking to myself she said ‘yes no’ and it was interesting how and when.  I have adopted a position of not being intimidated into silence by the fact that other people are in 2s and I am alone.  If people are playing the psychological bouncing game I have a right to talk out loud to myself about what they are doing.  And I don’t have pretend mobile phone conversations to do it, I just do it.  No props.  I just comment and moan and pontificate aloud.  I don’t lose the right to speak just because I am on my own.  People in 2s and groups have been playing that card for too long.

Almighty Gob, to whom all ears are open and from whom no privacy can be hid.

OMG I hate steam rollers.

Now I should abandon and delete this because it isn’t helping me change my attitude.  The lady, having gassed while others were trying to sleep or focus on their own stuff, has no laid down to sleep.  I feel like disturbing her.  If I don’t turn this crap off in my speech and writing I can’t turn off the emotions that I start off thinking excuse it and make it a good post.  Of course no one wants to see this dilemma in a post they are reading, not spelled out.  At the moment I am putting what I have written in this post and the cleverness I wrongly think is expressed in it, before my own peace and character.  That is why I am not trustworthy myself.  If you don’t allow a change in your own nature when the choice presents itself, you stay as you are.  You can’t produce what you are not just because it is needed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nasty runt in corner has just upped and gone.

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

I Don’t Have To

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

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

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

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

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

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

If x, Why y?

People say Bulgaria is a developing country.  Often that kind of thing is said in the context of needing to make allowances for them.

Who is having to make the allowances?  people like me, who have to live with their dishonesty, violence, harassment, torture, accusations, hatred and interrogations.

It is dishonest for these people to plead that they are still developing, and dishonest for my authorities to back them up in that plea.

I have been here 21 months, and in all that time when I should have been resolving problems at home and buying the home I came here to buy, I have been trying to deal with violence and intimidation and psychological domination instead, from everyone, including authorities, including the British Embassy.

In two days I am due to lose the only home I have known throughout the last 15 years while this diagnosis of schizophrenia has been enforced every time I have said I am being stalked and harassed.  I have no other home.  These people open their mouths and sound like savages.  I could not live here.  They are deliberately criminally invasive and hateful and insist on saying ‘dobre’.  Every leva this country has had from me has been armed robbery.  In the end you feel they are saying ‘don’t say things like that’ and you are supposed to laugh it off and there is something wrong with you if you don’t.

If it is true that 90% of people here were against the communist regime, why is everyone a self-styled, amateur torturer and interrogator and inquisitor?

I would not sound so stupid if I was not now getting the ‘dobre teatro’ soup treatment poured all over me.  I mean every word I have said.  I only wish I could say it more effectively and feel it as I should, feel its truth and not be undermined in my mind.

Never ‘sorry’, only ‘dobre’, and I completely disagree with their ‘dobre’, which is harassment in itself and puts nothing right.

My own authorities have not helped, with their knowing I am still in receipt of benefits, maybe even making sure that I am, but not giving me the power of that knowledge.  Government and church.

I’m sick, I’m tired, I feel ill, I feel as if I should come home.  But what waits for me there?  They are going to take my home in two days.  Nothing better waits for me.  They are as blind and in denial and dishonest, between them.  I understand the language, the air is dirtier, things are more expensive, and if i insist on what is happening I could find myself back under an enforced mental health drugs regime.  I could.  No one has officially told me otherwise.

These people and their sick, hard, hateful, defiant and dishonest, lying dobres.

My boundaries have been so violated I feel I should be asking for help from the violators, instead of writing as I am.  That is completely inappropriate.  All of these people’s utterances are like a virus keying into my mind and emotions when they are operating.  I don’t want to believe that something that makes me feel this way is from God.

Edit note:

This appeared straight after mine on the Christianity board:  http://05varvara.wordpress.com/2011/09/18/vasili-belyaev-sofia-the-holy-wisdom-of-god-spasa-na-krovi-the-church-of-the-saviour-on-the-spilt-blood-st-petersburg-rf-undated-1890s/#respond

I tried to comment on the coincidence but no go.  Sofia, spilt blood, emotional and psychological violence, for me, in context.

Last time I tried to come home, on 2 consecutive days, I was stopped by the police at Sofia airport.  Held illegally and intimidated and insulted and shouted at and toyed with for 5 hours, them refusing to tell me if I was under arrest, insulting my passport, a doctor shouting and laughing in my face.  I’m afraid of the whole process and result of trying to go back to the UK.  I’ve also had an old landlord here, from Plovdiv and liviing in the UK (London, I think) threaten me with ‘trouble’ and that they know where I live in London.  I’ve had several people pass me here, some in cars, and say ‘Plovdiv’ as they have passed, shouted it, if in a car.

I’ve got a woman above me who keeps keying spoken dobres into my mind as I am writing.  It is either occult or hacking.  I lost my internet connection the first time I tried to post.  She has just done that nervous cough I have got used to in all situations where I write an observation like my last one.  The music is up very loud and has been for 2 hours, even during this legally quiet time of the afternoon.  No one cares about the law here either.  It’s a bit like the UK in that respect.  Men have just started shouting in the building.  So many coincidences, innocent or otherwise.

I need support and might find arrest and beaurocracy and red tape under the mental health act or something else, and upstairs they are purring invasively in a way which feels violent and illegal and disempowering.

Beaurocracy, invasively, and disempowering are being challenged by spell check.  How disturbing that such normal and understood words should be subject to challenge.

Bureaucracy?  Oh, OK!  Funny, I just checked the internet and the right version appears once on the first page.  The rest are misspelt the way I did it.

Hallucinogenic Anxiety

I am now so much in fear and anticipation of someone speaking as soon as I make a sound I feel really inhibited, and when I forget, the dobre or whatever follows, even when the sound might indicate that I am obviously in pain and discomfort, as I am at the moment, feeling sick with severe diaphragmatic pains.  I have to think it is both aggressive and deceitful and ill-intentioned, the way it acts on me.

Over the last two days I have noticed that, lying in bed and trying to sleep the pain off, my mind cuts out sometimes and I begin to hallucinate.  It just goes, everything blanks out and what might be termed a ‘lucid dream’ takes over.  It only happens in bed, it hasn’t happened anywhere else yet, and I only expect it to happen when I am in a resting position.

You tell people there is a problem or ask what the problem is, and they make out they don’t know, even though they obviously do, so what is the point of trying to talk to anyone?  People hear what they want to and say what they want to and act how they want to, and believe they have a right to keep me outside, even if I ask.

Link here.  Why is this not showing, WordPress?  Censorship, harassment, terribly cynical of someone, inhumanly so.  Frightening.  What is the agenda here?

Edit note:  It’s been taken off the Christianity page as well, and it was definitely relevant.

Look, this is embarrassing for me and it should also be embarrassing for you.

It should be embarrassing for you because you say you stand for free speech, freedom, openness and open society – don’t you?  Those of us who are regularly censored know that is not the whole truth, if the truth at all.

It is embarrassing for me because I believe in open authority and politics.  Anything less says the populace is somehow inferior or not well enough informed and doesn’t have the same right to information.  It casts secrecy over things which should not be secret.  The ‘wrongdoer’ sometimes doesn’t know that is what they have been identified as, rightly or wrongly.  It allows one group to identify itself as right against another they identify as wrong, including in international politics.

It says that the person or people the various authorities identify as wrong are the whole cause of the problem and the authorities, and those who establish, employ and use them, are good and right-minded people, and also pure in word and action, or at least justifiable and ‘not guilty’.  People are criminalised just by the approach of the authorities to them, whether they know it or not, and whether or not they are actually criminal.

I believe in openness.  We are all as good and all as bad, we are all to blame and we all have the same rights and responsibilities.  Mistreated people are angry, and some angry people do harmful things.  Unequal relationships are a form of mistreatment.  Unequal vulnerability, unequal disclosure, people in authority or positions of influence who see themselves as being authority rather than serving in administration of what is appropriate to their job.

This is all old hat and I believe all right-minded people agree with me.  With me.  (I said it twice because I couldn’t decide which would communicate most effectively, bold or not bold).  Every day WordPress and other media still use language and material packaged together in a way that is relevant to me in constantly updated ways.  This creates a feeling of obligation and relationship which, I believe, is inappropriate to my actual situation, especially where nothing explicit, by way of committed communication, is ever entered into.  My neighbours know this too.  Hence the violence and harassment, even if it is inexcusable.  To have this kind of fluffy, feel-good, earnest or even comedic communication in the middle of a violent and undefined reality is not appropriate and not helpful.  It makes the problem worse.  Sometimes it isn’t comedic, sometimes I believe I know it is downright sinister.

So you are playing with my mind and reality.  Me, one individual who writes my blog.  The problem is, you do this in domestic and international politics as well, and your designated baddies know that, some of them are vulnerable and some of them are not, some of them have power and in their rage or confusion with this kind of communication can do catastrophic things.  I’ve written about Gadaffi before.  He is in the news at the moment.  I watched a film recommended by a friend, called Zeitgeist, which talked about the language used by the media and politicians around 9/11, and watching the news I’ve been observing the same thing here, at least with CNN, the channel I can get on my TV here.  It is an agreed, asserted view for presentation which is short of whole and little short of legitimised playground bullying and retaliation.  A club for fighting cats and dogs and gossip circles and sending to Coventry.  Ooh, nasty.  I have news broadcasts in mind.  We are all influenced against the love that we are by watching and listening to this.  Some of us are targeted to be influenced, as individuals and groups, and not just what we believe.

People say he is detached from reality.  I felt sorry for him, he looked confused.  Is he detached from reality?  He’s been made the baddy for years and years, and the media says he is detached from reality when he says all his people love him.  But I don’t believe that.  I believe all his people do love him, even if many of them oppose him.  I believe that love is the basis of all emotion and behaviour in every human being.  Most of us don’t understand that, we are not taught to.  The Bible says God is love and that we are made in His image.  Therefore love is also the foundation of our personalities, if not the whole of who we are (as it is for God, in whose image we are made), whether we realise it or not.  When that knowledge is undermined, not recognised about each other, or otherwise becomes emotionally and behaviourally perverted, that is the problem.  Yes, Gadaffi’s people all loved him.  Yes, they fought him (it is a psychological truism to say if you fight with someone you love them.  They have power with you somehow.  Somehow they matter to you.  All emotion, at root, is a manifestation of love, even if it manifests as guilty political manoeuvring and fear of loss of power and position or anything else, or of exposure.  Even if it manifests as anger or hatred or violence.  It is all a sign of our basic feeling and knowledge of connection).

I cried, a little, at what I saw on the television about Gadaffi last week.  I think presenting the news in that way, without the human angle and understanding and acknowledgment on the part of the controllers of communication of their own contribution to the awfulness, is in itself dangerous to society and inhuman.  It helps to make the poor despots what they are.  They are not playing for sympathy. They truly are worthy of our sympathy (they feel like we do, feelings which should not be put down as being out of touch with reality, and wrestle with issues as we do), and our own acknowledgment of how we have contributed to who they are, rather than helping them, through identification with them rather than setting ourselves apart or thinking ourselves better or wiser, to become something different.  Politics should be personal, right to the top and across nations and ideologies.  We need to be able to understand each other’s ideologies and converse and debate and argue with knowledge and respect.  We have to understand each other’s versions of reality so we don’t say someone has lost touch with reality when they don’t conform to our own idea of what reality is or should be.  The view that someone of a different culture and religion or ideology has lost touch with reality should never be put out through a news agency, even if only said in frustration.  It is my belief that this is often, if not always, just a manifestation of ignorance, of not knowing and not understanding, and not knowing how to set about finding out.  Or not caring, which, moralising as I sound here, must be worse.

Christian Life College, where I used to go, talked about two different sonship states.  One, we are sons of God by creation, and for some, we are sons of God by being born again.  That is how it was presented.

I would say that even if we believe in heaven and hell and that Christians go to heaven after death, we are all the children of God by creation at least, if that is what we believe, and if we believe that, we have to know that, on earth, we all have the same rights, whether we have the same religion or not, and an obligation to respect other people and make sure we recognise those rights in all our dealings with them. Including the right to intimacy and vulnerability, and openness and full disclosure, to expect it and to give it, both ways, in every relationship which involves power and authority.

The New Testament letters of the Bible, written to Christians, says honour all men (includes women and children), and that if you do not love your brother who you have seen, how can you love God who you have not seen?  We all share the creation sense of brotherhood.

So we need to be more open, when it comes to power and authority.  You choose your friends, but in your established authority and power relationships you have no choice, either party, unless the person in authority is able to lose and give up their authority and power and everything that goes with it.

That is far more than I wanted to say, but it is now said.  And that is why I for one don’t like my mind and conscience and emotions being played with by the removal of potentially sensitive posts, whether ostensibly for my protection, better criminal-catching, or any other reason, especially when the only direct communication I get from the same authorities is that which takes away from me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not meaning to be self-righteous here, because obviously I am not perfect, but as a victim of constant neighbour violence and harassment, including at illegal times, over the last six months, by a household that mixes it all up with ‘dobre’ and ‘hallelujah’, I have tried to confront them and appeal to their consciences in words about what they are doing and the right way to deal with their problems (go to the police), and it has made little difference, if any.  The same house producing consistent violence and harassment is also producing consistent hallelujahs and dobres and recently men in tears, and I am a single foreign woman.   I’m not sure I understand this.  It is like one Bulgarian says that there is no mafia control, and another says most business in Bulgaria is controlled by, if not owned by, the mafia, and I encounter all kinds of stuff, as a stranger everywhere I go, which says people know me and where I am from, and sometimes I feel so much love and shame and guilt I think the mafia might be a good thing, not a bad thing, and the violence (and mentally I even put THAT in inverted commas now) really is a legitimate form of discipline and correction that a community imposes on people who are out of step, without resorting to a police service in which people whose job, which they are paid for and from which they can be sacked, one hopes (but check this out for the official policy to police accountability in Bulgaria in 2009), gives them authority they sometimes, if not often, use for abuse and contempt.  I feel the love and sincerity is among the normal, powerless people, including the people above my apartment who target my ears with violence when I’m using the toilet or shower or in bed or any time they seem to feel the need, and who say hallelujah and dobre and cry, as I cry myself.

I have to leave this weekend.  My landlord, who has known all about this for ages because I have told him in detail, has decided to throw me out without ever having sought legal support for me, knowing that my own attempts have failed.

After Cain killed Abel and God asked him where he was, Cain said, “am I my brother’s keeper?”

I feel as if my upstairs neighbours are my keepers.  Or that they see me as an animal in captivity for observation and experimentation, or as a subject of some form of pest control.

Until a few years ago I was never one for talking about vibes and energy, but now it is unavoidable.  Every time my mind goes into recreative and positive relaxation a sound from them is imposed on it, usually vocal, normally sounding, today, like ‘dobre’, though it could be ‘hallelujah’ or banging.  Throughout the day, all day, every day.  I feel it as ‘don’t you dare’.  Every movement I make they put a sound or comment on top.  She screams like a demon when I come and go.  They do tapping stuff.  She goes from sweet to hate in a second, unless there is another woman there.  My mind can’t cope with it.

Also I have people turning up and ringing my doorbell and when I answer there is no one there.

Every time I become animated within myself and feel I can express myself in a way I like, their voice imposes itself, and I am here like a guilty and frightened thing, desperate and constantly seeing my own expressive life being killed by what can only be called aggressive psychic interference.

I sneezed a few minutes ago.  Sneezing, when my mind feels so bound, feels cleansing, and I like the recovery period, the seconds afterwards.  But as soon as I finished sneezing one of them said ‘dobre’.  I take hold of what I am writing now and give it a mental affirmation as it presents itself, and they speak uncomfortably and as if objecting.  It frightens the life out of me.  That phrase has a whole new meaning for me these days.

I went to the toilet and as I came out one of them said ‘dobre’.  I don’t want not to get on with them but they are making it impossible.

They still bang at me when they hear me in the bathroom.  They stir and bang about uncomfortably or deliberately every time sleep becomes restorative or pleasurable or exultant for me.  If I think about it, it is as if they are dragging me around by the hair.

I went to a pizza restaurant yesterday, and there is a children’s play area right in front of it.  Three girls dressed in yellow stopped and stared at me and I thought about the paedophile rumour.  I sat down and a few minutes later one of them shouted out ‘zestoki’ (cruel), which is something I have been heard to shout at my neighbours.  I don’t know where they got that from.  I felt mentally assaulted and raped.  A bit later the children started screaming, really soul-piercing screams I felt invaded by, and a few seconds later a security guard appeared using a mobile phone, and he stared at me.  I’ve been here a long time.  I wondered if something he had done had been responsible for the screaming and the way it made me feel.  I’ve been harassed by security guards for ages now, sometimes mockingly and exultantly.

I had a couple of women come in and act strangely close to me.  One of them was eyeing me with narrow slit eyes, like an animal ready to pounce, and I was blank, I didn’t smile because my mind was preoccupied.   Then she went into a wonderful awesome sociable switched on beauty routine.  The clearest face, the most beautiful, fluttering almond eyes.  Face held up to her man.  I resented it, it seemed theatrical and aggressive.  I noticed she had a child with her, a girl of about 8 or 10 who seemed to be a bit ill-behaved, I can’t quite remember how.  I looked and thought, ‘like mother, like daughter’.   But as I kept looking I realised the girl was uncomfortable and wanted attention that she was being denied, and she kept trying to get it, then she looked bored and wandered off.  And I thought, ‘poor kid, having a mother like that’.

That was when my scepticism and my ‘I don’t believe this’ response kicked in, and I decided to have a good, doubting, examining look at the whole act.  Shortly afterwards they got up and left, but as they walked away it looked almost as if she deliberately divested herself of a character.  Afterwards it seemed to me that the whole atmosphere in the restaurant was changed.  I had felt before that people seemed so happy and relaxed, but afterwards everyone was awkward and trying to recover comfortable and natural behaviour.  I would call it vamping, but she seemed to be presenting herself as one of God’s and nature’s beauties, dominant in her way and empty-headed.

I feel as if I am being malicious now, but I’m not.  I’ve had women doing this around me a lot when I go out, and I don’t know why.  Every time I get a moment of mental light and start thinking about what I am writing or examining it, the voice I find frightening from the woman upstairs when I am trying to write imposes itself and it is like an electric shock saying, ‘thou shalt not’, or ‘I don’t want you to’.

Thinking about it it reminds me that I have betrayed my own intentions and that I came here for the country and the people, not to be separate on a computer all the time.  But it feels like my refuge from their madness and invasiveness, as well as a chain in itself, and they won’t let me have that refuge.  The feeling that I can go to them and be friendly and that it will be welcome imposes itself, or is imposed on me, at the most psychologically inconvenient and resented and rebelled against times.  They have tied me up in knots, these changelings, and left me feeling guilty for not wanting to be available when I think I realise they want me to be.

They still comment when I cough, they still comment when they hear my computer and, if it is songs, at the change of every track.  They bang when I shit and comment when I fart or belch.

Jesus, does anyone understand this and how it makes me feel?  I was going to say, ‘how I feel about it’, because pop psychology in recent years has said that nothing can make you feel something, you feel it for your own reasons.  As I wrote it the man’s voice came in sharp and aggressive, like a knife into my mind, and now I can’t rework or work with anything.  When she opens her mouth it is as if she is piercing the air demanding power or recognition.  It often happens when possibilities and connections open up in my mind that I begin to feel happy and positive about.  So to me she seems to be saying, continually, ‘you owe me’.

One of Shakespeare’s characters ends a play saying, “the world is a stage and we are its actors”.  I was tagging this and thinking about the theatre aspect and watching and being watched, and that that approach to life runs counter, it seems to me, to the approach of the spirituality I have valued that emphasises unselfconsciousness.  I felt it when people started telling us to be vigilant about terrorism threats after 9/11.  Maybe that is my problem and misunderstanding.  If you are educated in the warning signals maybe you don’t go around with the terrorist attack threat constantly in your mind and even when the thought can’t be found, if the right things present themselves you become aware there might be a cause for concern.  To me, life is not for going around being consciously vigilant.

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.

“Punch Drunk”

Read here.  Tagged “women” but not appearing.  Since posting it I have read something that suggested, so it seemed to me, that Plovdiv was a victim of communism, so my thoughts and understanding might be at least a bit wrong.  I’m not sure, my situation isn’t simple.

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.

A Different World

Here we go again, whenever my words and emotions connect there is a bang from upstairs, and suddenly both my words and emotions are in ruins.

I was going to say something like, I’m just watching a news report on BBC World News, about a killing in Afghanistan, and looking at the uncomfortable stoicism of some of the people who seem to be presiding men, and young boys crying alone and no one comforting them.   Maybe no one was there, I don’t know.  But I was thinking I am so pleased for the therapy and ministry movement in the West and that our men aren’t expected to do the stiff upper lip and upright bearing thing anymore. 

Earlier there was a story, in Extreme Weddings, about a couple getting married, an arranged marriage, and the woman was shown on her wedding day, and she didn’t look to me just overwhelmed, she looked grief-stricken, but I might have misinterpreted it.  And the older women dancing like minarets, and everyone doing the strained happy thing that people do at weddings everywhere, because it is supposed to be a happy day.  I wonder if so many marital problems start right there, at the insistence, whether it is true or not, that everyone is happy on the wedding day.  The expectation that that is how it should be, whether it is successfully carried through or not.  But I looked at that report and wanted to come home to England.  Ever the wimp and melodramatist.

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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?

http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00zmc6f/The_King_James_Bible_The_Book_That_Changed_the_World/

Available until 9pm (8.59) tonight for watching or download.

I’m opening a new file – the VW FILE – Vulnerable Women Fall In Love Easily.

In this case the name came before the acronym.  Good though, innit?  On so many levels it would be a really long post if I wrote the explanation that suggests itself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

What An Idiot!

Written Saturday, 26th February.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s just a thought, for normal circumstances.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’m afraid, really afraid, that my neighbours might hurt me.  They are getting as close as they can, hammering on my ceiling like that, so violently, so contemptuously, even when I’m asleep.  And commenting every time I cough or any other sound is heard to escape from my body.  Forgive me being so specific, but I need you to understand how this feels.  I also wish that, instead of just reading, you would act responsibly.  I know people read, it is in my statisitics, including the posts that are read and how many times.  Yet most of the time you don’t coment or do anything, and if you did you might penalise me by going to mental health people instead of dealing with the perpetrators. The churches I have mentioned refer to the material on my blog all the time, and do nothing.  So does everyone else, but the thing is, the church does, and not only does it stand back, it takes part in the stalking.  Someone did it back to Bruce Atkinson two Sunday nights ago.  I think from what I saw they began to get the message.  But no one showed any reaction to the incident that I was aware of, until after I watched my recording a week later, last Sunday afternoon, then in the evening Nottingham Christian Centre was all of a flutter, so I suppose they were hacking my computer to know that I had seen it finally, or they found out from somewhere.  I think I had seen it in time for the 2.30 pm service at Kensington Temple, because that is when I think I saw them react.

I told the estate agents I thought my neighbours were going to the media and taking money instead of going to the police, because of what I’m hearing from BBC World News, specifics about what is happening here and how I react.  I told them what is happening in the media and what has been happening for years, including my time here.  One of the presenters on the BBC World News was speaking really sweetly then escalated to loud and aggressive and driving, and as they did my neighbour from upstairs hammered on my ceiling, and when I shouted back he hammered again, and when I kept going he hammered again, and he won’t go to the police, although I’ve suggested he should, even if angrily, and the man on now, 5.38 pm UK time, is doing all the subtle word substitutions and talking about schitz.  These are evil savages, both those in the studio co-operating, and it is obviously knowingly, and those doing the driving and the cut offs behind them.

I’m afraid my neighbours might try to hurt me.  I’ve made it clear that I believe they are talking to the media and taking money.  I feel stupid, but I also feel afraid to go out.

I can’t contact my landlord, and I know the police and the British Embassy don’t respond.  I’ve done all that as well.  And the media – soft, purring, presumptuous, alternated with violent and aggressive, swine.

BBC World News have been clawing at me all afternoon.  Brainwashing with violence.  There was a programme made up of emails, I think, which did a role call of many significant names in my life, with no exceptions I was aware of, they were all significant, and they ended with my own name.  Weekend World.  I can’t contact my landlord.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

I am being psychologically attacked from every side.  Every time I do something different in my apartment, the woman upstairs shouts and they bang.  The whole situation, including with the media, is literally taking my oxygen and I can’t breathe and my chest hurts and I can’t cope.

On top of that, today I am watching Nik Gowing on ‘The Hub’ on BBC World News, and just as I began to get my breath, at exactly the moment, he banged on his desk.  He does this a lot, but until this incident I hadn’t seen him do it today.  His body language is very violent, so is his speech, and I believe it is deliberate, and has been as long as I have been aware of him, which is several months.  They all do it, Peter Dobby is at it now, and they have a laugh in their voices as they do it.

You don’t have to take my word for it.  If you don’t already watch them, I suggest you should start and see for yourselves.  Not just today, but consistently.  I hope you will.  It might help me if they know other people are watching this with intelligence and awareness.  I can’t take it.  I shouldn’t have to.  It’s deliberate, it’s evil, it’s mockery, and now they are coming on so jovial and stuff, you just want to hit them, don’t you?  Yes you do, it’s natural.  You don’t do it, either because you can’t or because you have self-control.  But you want to.  Because they are so violent and evil.

I want them dead.  They are playing the ‘bait and switch’ game.  I want them dead.  That’s how they want me to feel.  And they want me to say it, as I have, and they want my readers to think it is me that is dangerous, because I have a mental health diagnosis. At the very least they use that fear to keep me under control.

I’m afraid.  They are really hurting me.  I’m sure that is what they want.  They are having a laugh, and I can’t breathe and my chest hurts.

When I first started typing this, Nik Gowing’s voice took on a note of appeal.  It’s gone now.  I wonder if he was aware that I was typing this post?  Past experience tells me he probably was, and I hope he continues to expose himself, because he is really thuggish and evil.

 Edit note 6.07 pm UK time:

Someone said a little while ago to keep up with the dissonances.  I know it is deliberate.  The apparent stuttering is also deliberate.  Notice what the mistaken and half-finished words are, when it happens.

Tanya Beckett was on not long ago, doing the cat act, which has also been agreed.  She looks a lot like Jeni Barnett who is now on BBC Radio London and used to be on LBC 97.3 FM.  I’m sure Ms Beckett must know that.  On LBC they also have, or used to have, other people named the same as me and my neighbours in London.

But just before I started this note Peter Dobby said ‘are’ the same way as they did on ‘Strictly Come Dancing’, with the same emphasis and hesitation, and in the same way that Tommy Boyd used to say it on his programme when he said, ‘I can make you say ‘ah’, and he was talking about an energy point or Chakra point or something like that, just below the navel.  He (Peter Dobby) followed it up with, ‘no more protests’, as if he was giving an instruction or a rebuke, looking intently and almost querulously at the camera as if he is looking for someone and knowing, I believe, that what he has said is something associated with Tommy Boyd, and I believe he knows it is true for me.  He then said the name ‘Christian’ almost as if he was spitting it out in hatred and disdain.

As I started the last paragraph he said a different sentence with the same emphasised pause, then he immediately went into a rushing river of words. They do this a lot as well, and I believe deliberately, and because I know that I find it more dislocating than other people might, but they probably experience the same thing to a lesser degree.  I think they are affecting the charismatic/pentecostal activity of speaking in tongues, it’s a deliberate imitation.

They are also mixing my stuff together with sentences they insist on like, ‘the police have been told to go in and to use force’, and it’s making me think that that instruction has been given concerning me, because I have said in this blog, even today, that that has happened to me before.  It is completely covert to people who do not know, and they keep a poker face throughout.  It is very, very unkind and savage.  It is partly why I am having so many painful stress symptoms, apart from the harassment or at the very least insensitivity to other people’s privacy that I’m getting from my neighbours.  I’m obviously afraid – as you can see, I am feeling obliged to compromise my communication of what I believe I know.  It’s psycholinguistic torture – brainwashing and control, if you like.  I’m frightened.  If the Bulgarian police do come, I hope they are sympathetic and will help me on my terms.  I hope they haven’t been told to come in and use force.  I haven’t checked my email over the last few hours, but the last time I looked I still hadn’t had any answers to the emails I sent to the British Embassy and my housing association, which they asked me for.  They deliberately, I am sure, do everything they can to sound as if they are vomiting and gagging up, apart from everything else, and it is savage and insulting and deliberately provocative.  They put their faces up at the cameras and their whole attitude is saying, ‘what are you going to do about it?’  They follow one pattern of speech for about 10 seconds, then switch to another completely opposite.  They are the world’s rubbish and shouldn’t have any hand in the news or location work where there is unrest.  I can’t stop them, I wish I could.  I know it’s deliberate and so do others.  And people like Premier Radio make it worse, because they retaliate, that was what got me in the first place, taking their retaliation to the secular media onto myself and thinking it was aimed at me.  Was it?  I’m not sure.  But the secular media still has no excuse.

I’ve wondered about the way they are saying ‘Bahrain’, with the glottal stop.  Because David Cameron let fly at Ed Miliband with a glottal stop in Prime Minister’s Question Time yesterday, and I’m thinking it might have been connected.   Ed replied or retaliated with, ‘the man (or the one) who made the tree’ and the tone was religious.  This happens a lot.  I heard a female MP during their broadcast recently say that this government doesn’t talk straight, it talks in code.  That wasn’t me, that was an MP.  But I believe she is right.

I think media people vocally affect pain as well, and so do people in Parliament.  To victims of their stalking who have real and legitimate pain, this is very offensive and provocative.  The croaky, cracking voices and everything.  It’s almost as if they feel it momentarily and deliberately seek to express it vocally because they like the fact that they feel it, it’s a feeling to be proud of.  It hurts me so much because I have been taken in by it for so long, and I think that gives them pleasure to know I understand that and they want to increase the pain I feel.  Their rushing, aggressive speech – OMG.  I really believe they are deliberately trying to make violent, harsh and coarse speech and speech patterns the acceptable thing.  Unless, as I said, I’m just privileged to have heard people like Michael Mish.  But I don’t think it is just that.  They also play with early cut-offs.  I’ve just remembered that because they have just played an advert that does exactly that, and I’ve noticed it before, it always cuts off early.  Cats are never cut off, any hint of refinement and culture is, if it seems genuine.  They go soft and intimate then immediately go into almost yelling things like ‘very disturbing’, like the sports reporter just did (6.50 pm UK time).  It’s psychological terrorism.  And it’s deliberate and criminal, whether it is the media, the politicians or the church.  It seems like a deliberately affected, constant ebb and flow of tone and content.  It’s a wall of words, and is intended to be a wall, and impenetrable.

They have been talking for a while, with a tone of significance, hesitation and almost derisive humour, about objects controlled by thought as well.  I repeat, all of this I am writing today are just a very few examples of what they do constantly.

Zeinab Bedawi is the same.  In fact, I might as well stop naming people (which is easy now I have swtiched off their provocation).  Zeinab Bedawi is the person on now, but they all do it.  I don’t think it is just tiredness and the pressure of the job, I think it is a deliberate stream of anger, hatred, contempt and defiance, even when it seems humorous, and the hope and assumption seems to be that if they all do it no one can challenge them.  For some of them at least it thinly veils fear.

Greg Dyke, the old director of the BBC until 2007, was on Newsnight last night.  In view of my last few posts, at least, please check out his embarrassed and guilty body language.

I get embarrassed about the time I waste or have stolen from me trying to deal with this, because the defiance continues and I think they love it.

But in some ways the worst thing is the Bulgarians.  For 14 months now, when I speak, every time my voice starts to become strong they start imposing their own voices.  Even in this block, it’s like a deliberate vocal struggle.  Apart from the man next door who banged sharply on my wall after only my 2nd day here, that’s what started it.  They yell first thing in the morning, and yell again in intimidating anger last thing at night, and comment at every sound they hear from my apartment, apart from which they are silent most of the time.  Do I yell back?  Yes, of course I do, I’m human and I get desperate, especially when it is so invasive.  That is when they descend into absolute silence, unless strength comes into my voice and then they ride it.  I wasn’t here under official communism, I still wonder if it was one of the torture techniques used.  Or if it is plain, gross stupidity and idiocy.

People like Colin Dye at Kensington Temple I detest, because he takes things like this and throws it back at me, with all the cut throat trickery he knows from his media experience.

I can’t stand it.  It’s like keep going at her until she shouts, then go silent unless you hear ‘that voice’, then ride it.  I feel really sick and I think they are going to try and arrest me under the mental health act.

Someone came this afternoon.  I didn’t answer the door, I was afraid.  I was typing as well.  I wasn’t expecting anyone, so I wasn’t legally obliged to answer the door.  They rang once and went away.  I was convinced it was the police.  Then I realised that I really didn’t have any idea who it was.  And if it had been someone who only spoke Bulgarian, whoever they were, and they were angry and forceful. . .   Most people would say that as a single woman in a situation like this it was probably best not to answer the door.  As it is I’m frightened that one of my neighbours will come out one day and hurt me.  But at the very least I am constantly embarrassed, and I was in pain as well.

I still believe everything I have said in the rest of this post.  And my chest still hurts.  And so does my stomach.  And I feel sick and afraid.  I know what I have had to deal with in the past, at least with my housing association.  Maybe also with the British Embassy.  I’m physically sick with the stress.  I’m not mentally ill.  Stress is not a mental illness, especially when dealing with something like this.

I went to Billa two days ago.  One of the workers there, a blonde man, came up and positioned himself beside me and started talking and yelling aggressively.  When I tried to complain to someone who was called who spoke English, and my voice developed strength and direction, the man started to shout over me again.  Not at me, but over me, as if he was calling out against me.  I’ve had that numerous times here.  There appears to be no point trying to challenge it.  I don’t think anyone wants to listen.  I think they would rather lock me away and make me take drugs for schizophrenia, than deal with other people’s behaviour towards me.  I’m frightened and I feel dishonest.  People, including my politicians, have postured as trying to help me, subliminally, and now I think they are turning the tables on me.  But because it has been coded and subliminal I can’t prove anything.  I almost feel as if this time I’m going to die or really lose my mind or something.  That something is going to be done to me which will destroy me.  I can’t do hospital, the nurses shout and hammer on doors, and I’m a vegan, and my stomach hurts.  I’m terrified and feel like passing out.  If they come at me with drugs, after all this, I swear I’ll go mad.  God help me, don’t let them hurt me.  Not anymore, please.  You are my only help.  If someone comes at me without You, they come at me with no ability to help.

One of the nurses on the ward, Simon, if he started getting tearful and upset, he would make a big, loud and inaccessible joke of it and talk about ‘filling up’, instead of stopping to examine his feelings and why he was feeling them.  I asked him about it once.  He fobbed it off, communicated something to the others then a little while later deliberately reimposed it in his conversation.  I’m scared to go back to that.  I feel as if my back is breaking.  Please don’t anyone make me go back to that.  And they don’t even cater for a vegan diet, at all.  But if they decide that’s what they want to do to me, they won’t care about that and will treat me as a nuisance.  I saw it with someone else.  They mocked her for what she called her ‘food allergies’, she had to buy food for herself, and if she felt ill and in pain, which was often, they bullied her, constantly and unashamedly complaining about her and telling her off.

At one point I seemed to be getting on well and normally with people on the ward, including one older lady, and Simon said quite openly, ‘we’ve got to get it back’, but he wasn’t talking to us, just for us, or me, to hear, so it seemed.  One day he did what I had never seen him do, he came and sat silently in the day room, where there was just me and this woman.  He sat at the table at the other end, apparently reading a newspaper, and he didn’t say hello or anything, and he sat there for ages, apparently listening to the conversation, but never contributing to it or doing or saying anything to be polite and acknowledge us.  I found it intimidating and upsetting and offensive, and when our relationship broke down he didn’t do it anymore.  He did it a couple of times at least.  His presence was so imposing without him acknowledging us or what he was doing that it made the conversation strained.

I once wanted some music on in the day room, I didn’t normally because it was Christian and I didn’t want to impose it on everyone else.  But I didn’t have my CD player, it had been taken for ‘electrical checking’ which was normal procedure, so I decided that, since everyone else played their music in there, I could play mine as well.  The girl with the food allergies came in and said she wanted to play something else, and when I said I wanted to listen to mine she found fault with it and said it wasn’t even good quality Christian music (that it could at least have been good Gospel music, but it was Vineyard style, or Noel Richards, which is not so loud in style, it’s in many ways more laid back and less ‘in your face’ and aggressive) and she started finding fault with Christianity and shouting and arguing.  A few minutes later she said to Simon that I was a control freak.  Simon said ‘tell me about it!’  I had never played my music in the day room until then, and she just wanted me to take it off.  But I didn’t see why I should have to.  It might have been a kind thing to do, or not, but I didn’t want to have to back down all the time and there was nowhere else I could play it.

What I am saying is, I don’t want to go back to that, and to the staff engaging in that kind of prejudice against me.  And as a vegan (which just means ‘strict vegetarian’, no animal products, there are plenty of other excellent options) I don’t want to be locked up in a hospital with no way to get what I need, which I would have to buy myself because they don’t cater for the diet, and it wouldn’t be cooked in meal form, because the cooker that used to be there was taken away for security reasons and they won’t do it for you.  That is no existence for someone you insist is ill and needs to be treated on your terms and not their own.

Yes, I over-react to things sometimes.  Yes, I make a mountain out of a molehill sometimes.  But not always.  And anyone else having to deal with the same pressures and treatment from officials they are dependent on might do exactly the same thing.  We are like animals under observation and naughty children to be dealt with accordingly, and behind those doors, particularly, they are very open about that and make no effort to hide their attitudes towards us.  That includes the psychiatrists themselves.  They will glower and tease and contradict, and if I became hysterically angry one of them would get angry at me for shouting and say he was going to have me arrested.

I know there are people in the media who will love using this against me.  That’s why my communication is messed up.  Basically no one acknowledges anything I say until I am pushed into crisis, then they descend on me in force and lock me up.  Not only what I say on this blog, but what I say in emails as well, even ones they have asked me for.  While I know that other people acknowledge what is happening and recognise it, as soon as I feel I have reason to be afraid I am going to get a police visit under the mental health act I forget all that and feel very isolated and afraid.  Suddenly my anger and certainty means nothing, because they can just invalidate it in the taking of my freedom.  They present later as not having wanted to do that and having needed to do it for my own safety (or that of others) so it makes me feel my anger and certainty are the problem.  The authorities certainly give the impression that they think so.  They call it paranoia.

People like to make a big thing out of saying you shouldn’t call people evil.  I don’t know if it hurts their feelings or not, but if it does that is all it does.  If they call people psychotic and dangerous, without proof and having got their facts wrong (but if we say so they call us liars and devious), the consequences for us are far worse.  So if we give it back, even believing it is true but embarrassed because we can just as easily, a few hours later, decide it isn’t true – if they can do what they do and we, I, do what I do, why should I be penalised for it, when no one really cares or acts on what I say anyway, while they can call me dangerous and psychotic and take away my freedom and abuse me behind closed doors?  If that is going to happen again, it isn’t right and it never has been.

I don’t want to go back to a situation where I am bullied and neglected by a social landlord when I’m also getting it from the community.  It freezes my thinking.  At least here, if I believed I was safe from these people in the UK, I could think a little bit.  Although I vent on here, my emotions and the pain in my mind are nowhere near as great as they are in London.  Maybe that is why I feel more physical pain.

If it was the police earlier, I still don’t know what they wanted and who sent them.  They might not have come to arrest me under the mental health act, and all of this fear and trauma might be unnecessary.  It has been caused by lack of appropriate official communication.  But maybe they think it is appropriate to keep me in the dark if they intend to arrest me, and just keep turning up and one day force entry.  Maybe they are afraid I will abscond and they want to keep the upper hand and the element of surprise and uncertainty.  That’s what they normally do.  No one is talking to me, just banging and shouting and commenting, and officially I don’t know what is happening.  I have been handled this way for years, and it contributes to the anger I bring to everything else.  I’m constantly nervous and afraid, and I bottle it up for so long until I’ve had enough and vent in anger.  People around me do it at me.  I shouldn’t be singled out as the problem.

My fear of police violence here is offset by my own shame that I am not able to understand their language and culture.  As always, I think all of this is my responsibility.  However bad people are to me, I think it is my fault for not understanding.  I feel that way with everyone.  And I think that if only I would acknowledge my own wrong doing then everything would be all right for me and none of this would happen.  That if I would recognise their official responsibilities and cut them some slack things would go better for me.  But I’ve tried that and been ignored, repeatedly, and now it feels as if they are saying, ‘just this one step further’ and I feel guilty, and at the same time I have been accused of things I have never done.  They have the ability to make me feel guilty for what I feel is my lack of response.  They lift things off my computer.  I really believe that.

Someone on The Daily Politics or Newsnight yesterday said that the Coalition is doing things with indecent haste, and I have heard people say that about them before.  In this case the man said that what should normally take 6 months is being passed in 11 weeks.  He put it down to the deficit crisis. But at the same time he called it ‘indecent haste’.  I wonder what the shortcuts and evasions are that are involved in such a truncation.  Indecent haste.  I’ve had that for years.  I do believe media people’s speech is deliberately aggressive and that that is why I am having trouble communicating.  The aggression is behind the hospital doors as well.  If I’m supposed to be ill I don’t want to be there, I want some peace and quiet and space to think, not drugs forced on me by people who do nothing to hide their fear and contempt, when all is said and done, and even before all is said and done.  Someone please listen to me and honour that.

I’ve just updated this, it is 5.15 am on Friday morning.  As soon as I pressed the update button there was a bang from upstairs, like a chair clattering or something.  At this time in the morning that might be reasonable. But it is the constant coincidence of this kind of thing, given everything else, which really terrifies me and freaks me out.  The psychiatrists call it ‘auditory hallucinations’.  I think they used to call it that as well when they would see me weighing up in my mind what I was experiencing and hearing with them compared with what I heard in church and read in the Bible.  Especially if the difference, and thinking the church was involved in what was happening to me, freaked me out, they would say that I seemed to be responding to ‘auditory hallucinations’.  I think on the whole I have to become more secure and smile when I feel afraid, instead of giving in to the fear.  I’m sure it would make life much easier, at least while I don’t have the TV or radio on.

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.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1353989/WikiLeaks-Police-sex-files-Julian-Assange-leaked-online.html?ITO=1490

I don’t feel able to comment on my feelings about these revelations, if they are true.

However, this is obviously a tit for tat move by whoever it was that made it.  I am supposing that the leaks, authorised or not,  must have come from someone inside the police force.

The obvious problem with this, it seems to me, is that this is an official body leaking details of allegations against an individual, before they have even been proved or the man found guilty.

I watched a video clip on Saturday of Mr Assange speaking via video link to a conference in Australia, and he said that ‘we believe in transparent power, not transparent individuals’.

I don’t like that either/or approach these days.  It’s what is known as a false dichotomy, I think, or is at least along the same lines.  It’s the ‘you have a choice between 2 options’ line, and it is always used to force a decision, I think, and closes down a person’s thinking. A little bit of wry, naughty humour coming in while I am writing, I think the best way to deal with this if you are faced with it might sometimes be to choose the option you know the person presenting the choice doesn’t want you to choose, if they are not open to reason.  Then they have to deal with it, not you.   If they are not open to reason, why would you want to go with them anyway?  It’s manipulative and coercive, although the person presenting the option doesn’t always realise that, they think it is the way to do it, sometimes.  It’s main concern, I think, is the maintenance of a method or way of doing things, or power of some description.

But there are three alleged offenses here, two of them obvious and one of them not.  The two obvious ones are the leaks from both Wikileaks and the police.  the one which isn’t obvious because not provable is the sexual offenses allegations.

Out of these three, if all of them are true, how many of them actually stand as crimes right now without further investigation?

If interception of communications and computer hacking are held to be crimes, Wikileaks has obviously committed a crime right there.  But possibly the government can’t afford to be too strong on that one, because the government has a policy to use that.  I think they have used it with me, a private individual,  without my knowledge.  Because they suspected me of something or thought I might be some sort of a threat?  I don’t know.  They have never told me and have refused to talk about it, referring me to mental health agencies whenever I have asked how I can find out if it is happening (Joan Ruddock’s senior case worker).  I repeat, for saying I thought it might be happening and asking how I could find out, I was referred to mental health agencies and told they did not know how I could find out.  If the government wants to continue to hide this kind of thing, it isn’t going to major on the hacking itself as being a crime.  It will major on the security risks of the actual information leaked (which apparently, according to a news programme I watched yesterday, Mr Assange first presented to the government, who refused to talk to him, before he actually leaked the information.  I suppose they knew he was a computer hacker at that point, and they made no effort to have him arrested for that, so I suppose they do not see that as a crime or, if they do, it is one they are also committing and it would therefore be too embarrassing for them to have him accused of the same thing.  The leaks talk about Hillary Clinton, for example, getting passwords to the accounts of people in the UN).

I think computer hacking is a crime, whoever does it, and that both of these bodies, Wikileaks and the government, are guilty of the same crime, by their own admission and policy.  But they have ruled that out of the equation.  Instead, one could theorise, the pursuit of Mr Assange has been diverted to a pursuit over sexual allegations, in order to get him for everything else?  If there is a real security breach, why have they not acted sooner on that nderstanding, and if he has committed a crime over that, in any way, why have they not arrested him for that, and not just for the sex allegations?  Is it because English law does not consider he has committed a crime, and that is why extradition to Sweden, for questioning, in spite of his constant (so we are told) co-operation with the police over the sexual allegations, is being considered as a first step in enabling an illegal rendition to the USA where he might find himself either in Guantanamo or condemned to death?  This is what is being presented.  This whole process is being presented as illegal, by his lawyers.  If it is illegal the UK should not be supporting it, because in doing so we become an accessory to a crime.

The sex allegations, even if they are true, are complicated by some factors, and might not be able to be proved as rape.  If the accounts are true, it would appear there was obviously a relationship in the context of which it happened.  I think it is not possible to make an assessment and come to a conclusion about his motivation, if it happened.  It says she normally wanted him to wear a condom, and he didn’t, but when awake she allowed him to continue.  Not knowing myself how long it was after this that the allegation of rape was made, I can’t guess at why she made it.  But she allowed him to continue.  Maybe on hindsight she realised it had been rape and felt differently.  To my mind, if she was asleep when it happened, and it was in a way which she had made clear she didn’t want (unprotected) it seems obvious rape might be a reasonable thing to call it.  But at the moment, according to what I have read, that is under debate as the question of whether what happened while she was asleep counts as rape ‘has not been tested by the justice system’.  If it happened.  If it did I think possibly it should be judged as rape.  Swedish law says that sometimes it would be, but in this case it has been thrown out by judges and I don’t know why.  But personally (not with legal knowledge) I also think his intention and understanding of the relationship at the time should be taken into account.  But (if it happened) he knew she didn’t want unprotected sex (if I have read it right).  So he would have to be judged mentally incapable, it seems to me, if the allegations were upheld and they were not treated as rape.  I keep saying ‘if it happened’.  That is my personal point of ignorance. I don’t know if he has acknowledged anything.  Everything I am writing is based on an assumption that he has not agreed that any of this happened.  That might be where my argument falls completely to pieces, but it might not.

Out of the three things involved, the sexual allegations, the leaks made by Wikileaks and the leaks made by the police, if we dismiss the issue of computer hacking about which there appears to be no legal clarity acknowledged, it seems to me there is only one indisputable crime, the leaks made by the police about the allegations made against Mr Assange.  I find it so enormously monstrous I can hardly address it.  This has to be the dirty tricks department at its worst.

It seems to me it compromises the trial.  It seems to me it is a gross breach of Mr Assange’s human rights (and also those of the women who have brought the allegations), and it is gross professional misconduct.  I don’t have to like any of what I am saying or think that I personally have a right to say it for it to be true.  If it is true, whether or not I have a right to say it doesn’t alter that fact.  It is an attempt to short-circuit the process of law, and probably in this case something even worse.  Perhaps I can’t make a categorical statement because perhaps the law is not this clear.  Not being a lawyer I don’t know.  But I think this is a clear case of perverting the course of justice, from whoever was responsible within the Swedish police force for the decision to release this information.

As a victim of computer hacking, I can’t condone the methods used by Wikileaks.  This may appear simplistic, who decides what the ‘right hands’ are and on what basis, and what can you do when those hands become the wrong hands?  But that does not mean that the course of justice should be perverted in the way the organisation or its founder is dealt with.  People speak against Anarchy.  But this is Anarchy from the top down, against the people they govern.  It is something I have experienced personally for over a decade, to my own knowledge.  I’m a Christian.  We need help.  We are in trouble, and maybe we always have been.  Maybe it only seems so bad to me, now, because this is when I am alive and experiencing it.

In the Book of Ezra, when the people are brought back to God, a call goes out, ‘to the word, and to the testimony’.  I’m not sure – I’ve just become sure.  I think this is applicable here because, however much the law is subject to change, what we do now needs to be based on the law as it is now, not as we would like it to be, and what happened in the past should be judged on the laws that were applicable then, not now, with regards to monitoring people’s communications.  That is the position of the European Court of Human Rights Act.  To me that seems just and the only way to maintain order and accountability in the way things are dealt with.  I love my leaders (at least, they make me feel that way.  They make me feel they love me too).  It is hard for me to say I think they have run riot, but I do.  The recovery we need is not only financial.  I believe that, as a society, we are in serious trouble.

Final note:  I realised while tagging this that I have forgotten to take the Freedom of Information Act into account.  Everyone is emoting over this, including Hillary Clinton (you can be an emotional woman for the war but not against it?), but it seems possible to me, not having kept up with any of this, that the information contained in the leaks should have been available anyway under the Freedom of Information Act introduced by Tony Blair, but it wasn’t.  I’m not sure how the Freedom of Information Act works in relation to the Official Secrets Act and whether some of the ‘spade a spade’ brigade would be right in calling the Freedom of Information Act a Mickey Mouse thing anyway.  But if the information contained in the leaks should have been available and wasn’t, and if the government turned Mr Assange away anyway when he went to them with it, it is dishonest that these people, who definitely would have known he knew this before the leaks were made, should now be presenting theselvesas so much ‘up in arms’ about it.  That is downright hypocrisy (sorry, I’m getting angry).

Tony Blair was quoted as saying he wishes he had never introduced the Freedom of Information Act and that it was one of the worst things he ever did.  He is entitled to feel that and entitled to his opinion.  But his feelings and opinion do not make the Wikileaks revelations wrong if, under that act, the information should have been available. We can’t say, “Tony wishes he had never done it, so we can call the Wikileaks leaks a risk to security and get cross about it”, if the informations should have been available anyway.  Maybe it shouldn’t have been, ma ybe there are exceptions under the Official Secrets Act to the Freedom of Information Act’s applicability to this kind of information, but I don’t know and I haven’t heard it discussed.  But if there is no exception there is no case against Wikileaks or Mr Assange for this unless it is computer hacking and invasion of privacy, and those are much lesser charges.  And to be extradited for questioning, at least in this case of sex allegations, is being presented as illegal, and he is supposed to have co-operated freely all along anyway, so excuse me, can someone please tell me what this is all about????  He’s not Jesus and he might be completely unsavoury in so many ways, but why is this being done to this man???? (I’ll keep my swearing to myself on this occasion).  And who else would they do it to if they got away with doing it to him?  It’s called setting a precedent.  We can’t let it happen.  Wake up, everyone.  Reality calls.  Possibly a man’s life is at stake, illegally.  Does anyone care?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~//~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~                                  

This matters to me so much partly because the last set of leaks from Wikileaks came at a time which felt personally significant for me, and so I feel implicated in whatever happens to Mr Assange.  In his communications he has used some references which are very easy for me to apply personally, including one about saving the whales not being the issue, but the freedom of information involved in making the decision.  For me that is very close to home, because one of Michael Mish’s musicals is called “The Boy Who Talked to Whales”, and for me the whale was, more than anything else, about the freedom of the human spirit.  That was how I understood it.  I am not saying that was Michael Mish’s intention.  Michael is, among other things, an environmentalist.  He could actually be offended (though I don’t think so) that what for him is a serious environmental issue is being reduced (or expanded) in that way, without regard for the issue itself.

There were other touch points in his address to the conference in Australia as well.  So whether or not I have been manipulated into this by a form of stalking, I do feel responsible for what happens to him, because I have believed that, if he released the leaks at the time he did in order to help me, he did so understanding the risks he might be taking.  Believing that to be a possibility I cannot be silent.  I know that someone handling his communication reads my blog and I hope they will contact me.

(Editorial Note:  Please read the updated and expanded version of this which is now on my front page.  I think it is more important than this one.  I wrote it because this one was not appearing in all the categories I assigned it to.)

And he and his lawyers fear extradition which may result in him being transferred to the US and possibly subjected to the death penalty or sent to Guantanamo.

I want him to be OK.  I don’t want any harm to come to him.  I don’t want him extradited.  Even if he has done something wrong, in Britain we don’t have the death penalty anymore, and our news agencies have publicly opposed and criticised Guantanamo for ages, though I haven’t taken much notice of the government’s position so I don’t know what it is. 

Maybe I am just a gullible, emotional woman who doesn’t understand what is involved in regaining/maintaining national and international security, but I think a lot of people would agree with me that, even if he has done something wrong, we would prefer for it to be dealt with differently.  I hope no one is thinking that if he is taken out of the picture that Wikileaks will fall apart, because I think that would be lazy and unjust.

If we have been told the truth, it wouldn’t be fair to extradite him on the basis of the charges which have been brought against him.  We have been told that he has co-operated in every way with the authorities over the sex accusations made against him, right from the beginning.  If that is true I can’t see how exradition over those charges could be justfified, and if extradition is a real threat and not just an exaggerated fear, I think the people thinking of resorting to this should stop the pretence that it is because of the sex allegations over which he has co-operated for months, from the beginning, and make their intentions and the reasons for them clear and open.  Then they would be challengeable, by everyone, including public opinion.  If they are not spoken no one can challenge them and that, in the darkest sense of the word, would be ghastly and say something really awful about us, I believe.

So without knowing anything that could justify it and not feeling able or being willing to turn and go with an inkling that I could be wrong at such short notice, I would like to say that if this is happening, it is not in my name.  And for that I feel I might burn in hell.

Pamela Stevenson On The One Show

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At about 6 or 7 pm last night men started shouting over my apartment again.  Uploading and downloading with a well-timed ‘hallelujah’, and I don’t know if they are Christians or people who just know how to use a word that is precious to someone else to get power over them.

They went on until about 1am.  The law here is that between 10pm and 6am you should be quiet.  I believe that law should be respected by all, Christians and non-Christians.

At 1am I phoned reception and said what was happening, and they said there was no one there.  Hmm, that’s interesting.  If there is no one there how can they bang on my ceiling?  As soon as they heard me on the phone they went quiet.  At that point I thought perhaps I should have phoned reception as soon as it started.  I kept trying to deal with it on my own, but there are more of them than me, and they kept breaking out again.

I went to bed with a really bad stomach ache, across my midriff, the same as I did on Saturday night, which resulted on Sunday in me being physically sick for the first time since I took an overdose of paracetamol a few weeks before my confirmation, which was quite a few years ago.  Left to myself, without the harassment, I can sleep it off and not throw up, but the people above me started shouting out at about 5am and kept going until early afternoon, every time . . . never mind.  I thought about it afterwards and wondered if this was an example of the enforced exorcism I saw a programme about on the television a few months ago, with a woman wrapped in a blanket and men shouting into her ears.  Is it OK, that kind of thing, if that is what it was?  I felt as if it was something I should have accepted. Should I have?  The world would call it harassment and abuse.  What would Clyde Sandry or any of the staff at the Christian Centre in Nottingham have called it?  I think they would say it is OK.  That God doesn’t care about harassment at any time, not even our legally designated times of rest, if it means we ‘come into the kingdom’ and ‘get delivered’.  I think it is unhealthy control freakery.

I got up at about 3am this morning because my stomach still hurt and I could feel it beginning to go the same way as it did on Sunday.  They are telling me there is no one up there.  They must be lying.  That isn’t Christian.

I listened to Sunday’s sermons from the Christian Centre.  It was silent throughout, but as soon as it stopped someone upstairs banged and started to chatter and it sounded as if they were ‘hallelujah’ -ing with each other.  They sound like Pentecostal Christians all of a flutter.  It was just before 5am.

If this is their idea of Christianity I don’t know where they have got it from, though I could guess easily.  The Bible says ‘honour all men’.  I’ve been taught that includes women.  You don’t honour people by going on at them like that at any time you think you will, doing a running commentary on or verbally ejaculating at their every movement.

This seems to me like the stupid wing of Pentecostal type Christianity.  I am personally angry right now because of what they are doing to me, but I disassociate myself from it anyway, and would even if this was not happening to me.  It is ridiculous, unhealthy control freakery.  In God’s name I stand my ground on that.  They are even lying about there being anyone there.  My preferred expression of Christianity is Pentecostal/Charismatic in nature, but that isn’t part of it.  It’s ridiculous, they could approach me to speak but they choose to yell over me instead. 

That is not my kind of Christianity.  I would like these churches to break out of their pressure tactics and code and say quite clearly that it is not theirs either.  If this is how it is going to be everywhere I go, and these people are actually Christians, they are the ones who will kill me, not the atheists.

I’m frightened to go back to bed and sleep, because when I begin to go into the bit that works for me they start shouting again.  They seem to be summoning me and if I don’t think about it I feel as if they have the right, but I don’t want to respond.  I want to sleep.  I don’t want this kind of summoning to be characteristic of my relationships anymore, now, or ever again.

I Want To Go Home

I really think it’s the right thing to do, I think anything I do here in Bulgaria before or without doing that can’t possibly be right.  But I don’t know how to go or who to go to.

I know that through the legal system isn’t the only way of approaching things, and that some high profile people seem to have tried to make their positive position and kind feelings very clear to me.  I appreciate that and am really sorry for those people if they feel embittered or betrayed, believing I don’t care or am really cynical or despise the reality of what they feel, and because of the responsibility and integrity with which I am sure many of them try to approach their job I am ashamed if I have made them feel that way.

I don’t know what to do or who to go to.  My flat is my home, I have tried for years to insist on that, not only for my own sake but also for that of those who have no other option but to try to make such a place their home.  But I don’t even want to attempt to deal with the problems between me and my neighbours and my housing association.  I have asked the mental health services before, and my housing association, for assurances that I’m not going to be hospitalised or something, and they never answer emails like that.  I think they have viewed me very unkindly and inaccurately, if not cynically.

So where would I go?  I have a home, but I’m afraid to be there.  I need a legally committed communication on this.  I’m sorry, friends, but I really do.  Using the media isn’t good enough.  I don’t understand why you can’t or won’t commit yourselves.

I don’t have the keys to my flat.  My housing association broke in to do some work and has changed the locks and they have the keys.  I don’t know how to get hold of them without telling them my address here, and I don’t want to do that.  That feels stupid, it seems so obvious that there should be no problem for me to do that, but I know how they have acted towards me in the past.  So I might feel clear skies but discover I have delivered myself over, yet again, to a dungeon.  How melodramatic does that sound?

Am I worth anything to anyone?  Should I be?  Should I believe that I am? 

Maybe more to the point, is anyone else worth anything to me anymore?  The truth is, I don’t care.  I can’t care, not after what you have put me through.  You need to rebuild this relationship, it is not my job.  I can accept apologies and an expression of a wish to try again, even if my answer is no, or even a summons, but being put under the obligation of responding to a plea or an invitation is not something I think is fair.

Everything I do here in Bulgaria, I feel as if I am desperately trying to avoid detection.  My first reaction when people shout at me is self-defensive anger and rejection.  But that seems to be the way people here do things.  I don’t expect ever to encounter anything different.  So I feel as if I just have to get in there, if I can, if people will let me, if I can hide my predicament well enough and the predicament they might find themselves in by having anything to do with me, and do my best to hold on, if I can.  If I still have the heart.  If I don’t why would I want to, and why should I try?  And also, of course, I find myself having to cope with the closed and dishonest ways people handle the situation.  These   days when people say they can’t do something, I don’t know if they really mean it or if they are saying ‘go away’.  But you can’t prove it.  But it’s still fear and prejudice. 

I was thinking over the weekend that I need my personal power back.  That if people shout at me or whatever, if I shout back or show any kind of strength in expressing my own anger, it won’t be made an occasion for people to arrest me or use the mental health act against me.  I feel I daren’t express the full extent of my anger in these situations, or my love or my need or acceptance of my own failure in the communication, or an insistence that I am entitled not to be treated that way.  I don’t think that is something I should have to feel, since those who start it are completely unbridled in their own expression. 

I’m not talking about physical force in my reaction or any kind of physical attack.  On the other hand, is there something wrong with grabbing someone by the wrist in that kind of situation and saying, ‘hey, that’s not OK, and I don’t want to let you walk away having spoken to me/treated me like that’?  Because that is the worst thing I have ever done to any of my accusers.  The spectre of the mental health system is always over me in those situations.

I’ve got men shouting over me and outside my door, banging and crashing and laughing.  I’ve phoned reception twice and no one has answered, I got the fax machine.

Is there anything honest and truthful about this country?

I feel sick and my stomach hurts.  I was beginning to fall asleep when they started.  It’s always like that.  Psychiatrists are not honest when they refuse to recognise it.

I can’t take much more.

I was thinking about it today, how I’ve said they are animals and everything.  In order to do everything they did by way of murder under communism, they must be.  They must be real savages without conscience, without morals, murderous pack instinct.  I must face facts, and so must everyone else.  Just because the political system has changed, it doesn’t mean the people have.

How do I always end up feeling that they are saying they love me and I just can’t see it?  Is that right, am I just being stupid and stubborn and alienating people?

Why, when people know, is this being allowed to continue?

WAGblog: Dum Spiro Spero

"While I breathe, I hope"

Emerging From The Dark Night

Working through the Dark Night of the Soul to emerge as me.

The Elephant in the Room

Writing about my experiences with: depression, anxiety, OCD and Aspergers

The Sir Letters

A Tale of Love

The Seeker's Dungeon

Troubling the Surf with the Ocean

Seroquel Nation

Onward and upward...

We are all in this together

it's gonna be okay.

my last nerve

psychology | psychiatry | neuroscience | n stuff

A Philosopher's Blog

A Philosopher's View of the World...assuming it exists.