Tag Archives: bullying

Woah what have I done?

I have been keeping very quiet about a certain little underground problem; I say it’s underground because it hasn’t actually directly been aimed at me exactly, only through hearsay.

I have the hearsay of online acquaintances that a certain vlogger has been doing her utmost to try and tarnish my reputation behind the scenes by friending anyone connected to me to get any details about me and to basically, lie about me in parts.  These online acquaintances have warned me she is doing this because of jealousy – I don’t know why, because I have never had a book published whilst she has!

I am embarrassed that this is going on behind my back, because I dislike drama llamas and I don’t engage with gossip and things like that generally, unless it gets too out of hand and it is getting out of hand because I am actually becoming concerned of the reputation of the person doing this. They don’t realise it, but they are killing their reputation with their venomous behaviour and though they are being nasty about me, I am concerned for them!

Their YouTube is slowly experiencing a death, because they prefer the quickness of Tik Tok, but they are using Tik Tok wrong.  In fact dangerously so, because they are spouting discrimination and hatefulness at every turn at a quick fire pace without realising of the consequences that this could have on their own personal lives.

Nobody wants to work with someone who is a poisonous, backstabbing, bully – to put it mildly.  I know these are strong words, but I am saying it how people would see it, if they are watching what she is doing.

She doesn’t realise that this is not a reflection of how professional she claims to be in comparison to other people who seem to be less so – it’s a reflection of her as a person and so far she is not projecting a nice persona that endears people to her – basically shooting herself in the foot in the process, when she desires the opposite effect.

She is struggling to maintain her career as far as I can see, yet, she is doing everything that is counterproductive to try and reclaim it.

This is the danger of fast paced vlogging – people can do quick-fire posts about heated discussions, defame, delete, discriminate, delete, as and when they please and they think they can do this without observers, seeing!

An example of this would be, my son, after hearing the rumors about this person decided he will go and see who she is and what she is saying.  He was horrified when she called me a C— and then deleted that comment twenty minutes later.  Why she has singled me out in particular I have no idea.

I wouldn’t have posted this if it weren’t for one major thing – the personal attack on my mixed ancestry and suggesting it’s fake and that everything about me is fake. Also ageist comments; Personal attacks like this is discrimination – it’s illegal! Don’t claim to know things via presumptions when you don’t know someone, as it will come back to bite you some day! If this continues, I will be forced to take legal action.

But because I am a person who doesn’t like to engage in drama and I like to mind my own business and wish the world luck and love – I am not going to mention their name here… why?  Because they’ve contacted enough people who know me, that the people who have been contacted by her, can already guess who the blazes I am on about.

There is only one mega bully online that is making herself famous by her vitriol of many people, not just me.

I do not like to react quickly to things like this and I have said before, that my blog posts are usually written in first draft only.  But because I don’t want to take the bait, I have edited this post six times over the course of ten days!

No doubt she will shoot herself in the foot again by posting multiple tik tok videos screeching about it whilst also having a certain grace in not naming me directly too.

Why she has decided to single me out is beyond me as we have never engaged in a conversation and we are poles apart in the genres of which we write, she is mostly a sci-fi, thriller author, whereas I am mostly a fantasy, steampunk and horror writer.

Because I am concerned for her career and her reputation, I believe it is time for me to broadcast that what she is doing is not only ruining her own future with what she is doing, but she is also engaging in illegal activity whilst doing so.  Ageism and all forms of discrimination is a crime and she can be taken to court for it, just thought she should know.

People, especially this day and age find all forms of hate grotesque and she is emulating so much venom with every post she is doing, that she is going into very dangerous territory on a personal level.

I fell into the trap of people pleasing because some things she was spreading about me was getting to me; I felt the need to try and prove everything I am doing all the time and I felt that my way of writing was wrong – but there is no right or wrong way to write.

I am not going to prove anything to anyone, because I don’t have the time and the energy to do so – whether they believe I am a writer or not, I don’t care, because I know I am one and I write profusely every day, even if I often forget to update what I am doing online to the world. 

I have a son to take care of, a house, myself, my partner, my pets, my garden, generally having a life as well as reading and writing.  Not sitting back like some young lonely sad creature who wants to bully the world because things aren’t going her way.

It is sad when some people feel that the only way to become famous is to become some kind of motor mouth of poison, of hatred, of shocks and taboo!  It’s really sad that there are people out there who have no pride in themselves that they can do this.

I bring nothing but love to people, because this world is a harsh one.  I love everybody, I wear my heart on my sleeve and I will fight for anybody who needs it; however, I am easily hurt and once I am hurt, I don’t forget, but I do tend to forgive eventually. 

I have so much love to give, it’s a shame she didn’t want to try and contact me to make friends and that she chose this route to reach out to me.

People who know me offline have always said I am a very motherly person who would adopt the world if she could; this has been something that has been said to me, even back in high school – which is why I was once nicknamed “The mother raven” I was a goth, but I loved everyone and tried my best to help the world.

The writing community is a lovely one to be a part of, when things aren’t so vicious. It’s a shame there are people out there who wants to spread evil in the world and damage communities as well as personal confidences.

That is all I am going to say now.  For me, this should end things, though I am sure in some way it may have fuelled the fire in her – but I am not responsible for how she chooses to react to the world and what I say.

However, I am responsible for my own words and actions and I take full responsibility of those words and actions and I wish to no longer engage in this vitriol – because I am not going to become one of these writers who have some stupid historical rival with anybody!

For me, I wish that anyone who engages with this person to remain silent about any more things she has to say about me.  I don’t wish to know.

Thank you for reading!

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Filed under About my work

Books saved me from crime

I haven’t been raised to be who I am, I was raised to be something quite different and I fought against that system heartily because it felt wrong, corrupt and somewhat evil.

I read ferociously, reading was my weapons against self-destruction.

I am glad I took the quiet path and found solace within the pages of books – because the other path would have been a huge detriment to myself, my life, any offspring I had and perhaps a loss of art from my perspective – because the alternative path would have been a life of sordid means and running away from problems, skipping town to town to avoid being tracked by my past abusers and potentially I would have followed one of my older siblings into a life of crime.

Instead the path I took was a weird one, for the type of family I was raised in.

My mother often told me she was disappointed that I appeared to be some kind of flake, some kind of weird little creature who sat in dark corners reading books and seemed alien to what she said was a normal person’s idea of fun!

So what did my mother think was a normal person’s idea of fun?  Going out Friday and Saturday nights drinking themselves into a stupor with your friends, gorging on take aways and BBQs wherever possible and bothering the doctor about your strange back pain, without telling your doctor that you recently fell off a balcony with an 8ft drop because you were too drunk to realise what you were doing!  Oh but that’s not all, pick on the quietest person in your group and make them do things they’d never do without your cajoling and bullying – oh such fun!

Then on Sundays spend all day cleaning the house whilst worshipping God in the form of watching biblical movies in dead silence. 

If it wasn’t for books I would have successfully ran away by the age of fourteen, I knew at that age the only people who’d help me on the street were the bad kind and I was near enough prepared for it because I needed a way out.  I knew from past experiences of other women in my life that once you are in that kind of life, it is hard to get out of it, but I very nearly took that chance.  Thought that maybe I’d earn my way out, but you never do.  The big kick which knocked sense into me was that I had a cousin who had the same notion – only she had the guts to actually do it and came back home in tears, black and blue and with a new found drug addiction only a year older than me, she didn’t know, like I did back then, that it’s not only sex they get you into for money, but drugs too and in order to sell it, you have to take it yourself like a good sales person.

Fifteen years down the line, it killed my cousin. She was murdered when she was clean of drugs for nearly 2yrs as an effort to win her kids back from welfare and stumbled across her old dealer who was desperate for her to buy again! It could have been me, if I chose the same path.

Drugs was a big issue for me, because I saw the damage it did to several of our relatives growing up, drink and drugs are bad, very bad, it changes people heads, make them do stupid things and then they fall apart in tears because they genuinely didn’t meant to ram your head into the wall fifteen times, they were just stressed that’s all!  So I never wanted to experiment or be lead into it.  Several near misses though of people trying to sneak it into me, but I was paranoid around strangers and never accepted food or drink from anyone just in case!

No, after what happened to my cousin I decided to stay as the quiet one of the family, lock myself away in my room because if I didn’t, I’d usually end up the night’s entertainment!

They treated me like a circus freak, something to poke fun out of, to test, experiment with, to scare, to have a laugh with her, see what she’ll do next, like some kind of trained monkey or puppet.

Despite all of this, they still had the audacity to call themselves god fearing Christians!

If it weren’t for books, I wouldn’t have wanted to be a writer.  Because I thought movies were just movies, people playing pretend and they made something good together; it didn’t occur to me until I watched several Stephen King movies with my horror loving grandma that I kept seeing in the credits “written by Stephen King” over and over again in most of the movies I watched.  I knew when I went to markets and charity shops that Stephen King books were everywhere and I decided to collect and read them at the age of 9.

My grandma was very encouraging – another horror fan in the family made her feel less lonely.

I realised at the age of nine most books I liked were movies and that movies very rarely come from other places; I liked movies and I wanted to watch my ideas on the TV or at the cinema.  I wanted the world to visually see what I see in my head or at least adaptions of it.

Books are a love – but mostly I love movies, I am very stimulated by vision and art.  I learn better with visual cues for example – I have mild dyslexia and dyscalculia as well as ADD and Paul thinks ADHD.  If something visually pulls me, I lose concentration on other things because of the interest it holds.  This can be difficult at times because I can zone out on people if I find something visually attractive about the environment around us, fashion, hair, or even a beautiful person – now that one can be awkward!

So, I am really writing in the hope that my books make it to the movies and if they don’t then I have a plan B.  I will give my first book out to publication and if there is no interest from movie producers to make something of it, then I will have to bore myself to tears to learn technology where I can create my own movies online.  How?  I don’t know, but I hope it won’t come to that!

One major type of book that saved me from a life of sex crime etc. was non-fiction psychology.  From the age of 9 I taught myself how to pacify aggressive people without becoming too submissive or self-deprecating, how best to react in violent situations and how to talk to angry people.

Now it works to a certain extent on a vast majority of people and I have been commended in work for excellent customer service and hospitality skills, but there is a small margin where the advice can actually make some people more aggressive with you – my mother is one of those.

If I didn’t emotionally react to her behaviour with me, she’d get absolutely hysterical, come close into my face screaming and then slap me repeatedly about the head, because damn it, she is going to get the reaction she wants because she needs to feel her power over me!  Because she is insecure, that’s all, my fear and tears make her happy, because it verifies to her that she is strong and she is still alpha.

It wasn’t until my mastoid surgery when I was seventeen that she was positively shitting a brick about hitting me, because I have a vulnerable spot at the side of the head would could be lethal if bashed.  So she tried other tactics to hurt me in other ways, usually the legs.

In 2012 it was a book called “Toxic Parents” by Susan Forward that helped me finally tell someone outside of the family and family friend circle about my mother.  They responded in horror, they were a nursery worker for my son Henry.  They got me a nurse and a family support worker to come and speak with me and then the police came to give advice too.  Unfortunately their advice was, get her out of your life or it may affect your ability to care for your son appropriately, meaning that we could take court proceedings to put your son into care until we feel that you are safe!

Because my son did sustain a head injury earlier on that month due to my mother encouraging him to do dangerous things, such as deliberately climbing onto the dining room table to jump off it onto the floor, he was 14 months old and had only been walking seven weeks!

She didn’t want me to have children, you see, it wasn’t part of her plans.  She wanted me to stay home forever and become her nurse when she is old; she told me this over and over as I was growing up.  I accepted it, because it’s what daughters do, but mothers tend to want their daughters to thrive, be independent and happy in their own right too and usually good mothers want their daughters to expand their family, don’t they?

She didn’t.  She didn’t want what she called “more problems” that came in the form of new family members – she didn’t want me to go out alone and make friends, because she liked to micromanage my every waking moment.  It was hard for her to allow me to go into full-time work and she’d often sit in her car all day long outside my work place waiting to see what happens, if I leave early etc.

On some occasions I was ten minutes late in leaving the building because my boss required extra work, my mother would embarrass me by making a visit to the building demanding to know where her daughter is and how they can’t push me around into doing more than my times worth!

I often lost jobs because of her.

Because I knew how she liked to micromanage me and because I wanted to be a good daughter and keep my head down and please her the best I could, until I could convince her to allow me freedom and a family of my own – I decided to talk with her about me becoming self-employed with homework of some description, there was always an issue for her and that never worked.  Because she would become obnoxious when I was on the telephone (up until 2015 I had perfect hearing in the left ear), so keeping those jobs was a task too.

She revelled in telling people about how lazy I was, how she is stuck with a quiet reclusive freak of nature that is eating or starving herself to death periodically and has no enthusiasm for life whatsoever.  Not true, I had no enthusiasm for the life she wanted for me.

I had a lot of ambition until I gave up wanting.

When I was twenty seven I left her to move in with Paul, it was done sneakily but I had to do it that way.  By thirty I had to stop all contact with her, because she is a respected matriarch in the family that meant I had to say goodbye to everyone except for a small handful of relatives on my dad’s side of the family.

She would never know or appreciate that all I ever wanted in my life was for me to be considered a daughter that was good enough to stick around and help as much as I did.  Good enough to trust out alone, good enough to get chores done, good enough to deserve a good husband and family of her own and good enough and trustworthy enough to be humane enough to want to care for her mother if she ever needed it.  I didn’t need to be moulded and abused to do that, but she didn’t understand and I don’t think she really cares.

Because I messaged her in 2014, two years after not speaking to her and I said to her – I am willing to forgive and forget everything about the past, if she is willing to tell the truth to others about how my life was like and repair my reputation in the family and secondly I’d come back into her life if she could allow me to take full charge of my own life because after all I am a woman of thirty now with my own child – she said no, she won’t do that.

I said well just give me permission to live life how I want and I will work it out with the others myself.  No, she said, I won’t do that Tina, because I don’t agree you know what is best for you and as far as I am concerned, you don’t need that permission really, what are you playing at exactly?!

So I said to her – are you telling me then that I have got you wrong?  That you’ve always allowed me to make my own decisions and you never intended to interfere?  No she said – I never said that and you know what Tina, this is the end of the conversation.  I leave the ball in your court, come or go as you please, but I won’t change – I stand by the fact that you haven’t a clue about life and that you are a stupid, stupid girl and as far as I am concerned I wish you never have any more children, you made a stupid mistake when you decided to keep that one! (This was in reference to my Henry who was planned and is very much loved)!

I also wanted to point out, that the message came about because I wanted to tell my mother that I was hospitalised with an ectopic pregnancy and how my plans for a large family could be over and I was feeling suicidal over it – because all I wanted in life was to be a mother of a large brood.

Books have helped me heal from that too… books are magic aren’t they?

Thanks for reading! 

P.S my idea of fun is… picnics or eating out at buffets or country pubs with a large group of family or friends, rowing on a lake, visiting a zoo, playing with dogs, doing messy arts and crafts with kids and playing pretend with my creative and kooky friends, oh and swimming, I love swimming and gardening or being in a beautiful garden that isn’t overlooked! That’s the light side of me… there is a dark side too… What does that part of me like?

Once again friends or family around me, snuggling down with a horror movie – watching thunderstorms, creeping people out, telling a good story, having sex and generally being my weird self!

And guess what!  No drink and drugs for any of that is there? Well, erm, maybe the pub lunch eh?

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Filed under About Me

I cry for you

Life is hard for many

It is made worse by some

Everyone wants peace on Earth

Everyone wants some…

Love and understanding

Acceptance, friendship, peace

Everyone wants the judgement of them to cease

Why is it so hard to learn to love others so?

Why can’t you stop your judgements and learn to let them go?

Why is it so important?

To demand that others change?

When it’s not your life at all, not everyone’s the same!

Why is it those who shout the loudest about life and love and light, who are the ones who shout out hatred and brings to others plight?

It’s a weird sort of tragedy that they do not see

The evil that is in them, because they hate you and me

They try to control us with venom about Hell and pain and more

But they don’t realise their evil words leaves us sore and raw

It’s a kind of irony; they don’t practise what they preach

They are spreading love and kindness, yet they beat us when they teach

It’s a sorry world when they rule us, it’s sorrier when they don’t learn

That every time they beat us, God’s stomach sits and churns

What can he do with his children?

Who sit and think this way?

What can he do about the evil, when they think their words are a good relay?

The more that converts to the words of hate and lies

The more God sits back and hear the innocent cries

It must pain God to see who is right and who is wrong

This is a difficult endeavour, to end this rhyme and song

Because no one will listen

No one really cares

Because everyone has a way of thought, a life to which they swear

But hopefully someday

The world will see a change

Where hypocrisy has ended and people start to care

I’m unhappy here

In a world that’s hard to be

A complete individual, a person that’s truly me

I hide behind a mask

Because I am scared of hate

But hate comes hardest from the lovers, the ones who love to hate

I’m sorry if I hurt you

With my tears and cries

But I have never asked you, to go into a corner and die

Because I am bisexual, because I don’t worship Christ

Because you fear I will burn in Hell if I don’t take your advice

You can’t see this is cruel, you can’t hear your evil words

Because you believe you’re right, to me you sound absurd!

We all find God in our own way, who are you to judge?

I believe God loves us all and doesn’t hold a grudge!

Because if he hates me for who I am – then why did he make me so?

It’s a question I have always asked and nobody really knows

But in the bible God has said he knew us before we were born

So doesn’t that say a lot… why are we as a society so torn?

I can’t answer it, but right now I am sad and deeply forlorn

Because you can’t love me, like a sibling would

Because you judge me so

Don’t you consider you are hurting God as well as me, no?

You pray for me, that I don’t go to Hell

I pray for you as well

Because I see you are blind in your hate for me

I cry deeply in this tragedy

Because hate is evil and you don’t see…

I do believe in God

Do you believe me?

I don’t gaslight, I share my love

I share my tears and woe

I truly do cry for you and the things you do, please know

I cry every night, because you really care

But you still don’t see the evil that you share

My life is very lonely

But with God I have a friend

For he doesn’t judge me as I am what he did intend

I can’t say any more than that

But I do love you despite the spat

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Filed under poetry

Who is the Tardy Creative?

TardyCreative.com was named mainly because I realised that although I am a writer and I aspire to someday becoming a selling artist, I knew that I have other interests which can sometimes absorb me!

Especially interests regarding gardening, reading, pets and other matters close to the heart, such as the LGBTQ community and generally defining myself as a person, healing from abuse and having fun!

I had wanted this blog to become a broad outlook about me, this was never meant to be a professional blog in which I will sell my books, because to me, this is a personal blog.  When I approach an agent with my work in the future, I will create a professional blog separate but connected to this.

This blog was purely intentionally made to share my life with people and my progressions in my life, including my progression as a creative.

I suffered a lot of abuse from controlling people who moulded me into becoming what THEY wanted; this blog was my attempt at showing the world that I am becoming who I want to become!

Unfortunately until this point, I have done so with some sense of shame and embarrassment.

I have not been confident enough in sharing photographs and things in too many depths, but I am learning to change and I am building confidence, slowly but surely!

Any idea that this was meant to be my actual “Professional” blog is wrong, this is a personal blog, and it always has been!

I am fine tuning myself in various ways in my life at a fast pace, because I am determined that my life really will start at forty, like the old adage says it does!

I need it to work, I need it to happen and I need to stop living in fear!

But ultimately, I need to learn to love myself, be happy in my own skin and I am not.  But I am trying my best to change how I see myself and to learn to love the skin I am in!

I am going to be shouting loud and clear about who I am in up and coming posts, but I do not intend to preach and I do not intend to convert, my intentions are to purely and wholly be me, without shame and to share who I am to the world!

Because hardly anyone knows the real me, they just know the trained, tamed version of me that my mother and other abusers have made me into.

The boring me, the monochrome me, the quiet me, the me that is not me… basically.  My shadow is more me than me!

So, as I fearfully crawl out of this rock, learning technology as I go my way, I am also learning not to fear being rejected for who I really am by the world I am creeping into!

Hello, I am The Tardy Creative, my real name is Tina, but that is going to change soon to something that is more me, it is something I have always intentionally wanted to do – change my real name. 

So I will be forty in October, October the 3rd to be precise and I heard that life begins at forty and I really hope so for me!

I have struggled with two different and very clashing eating disorders in my life, both compulsive eating (when angry, stressed, feeling trapped and bullied) to anorexia and bulimia (when sad, grieving, depressed and sick).  However, when I am relaxed and happy and enjoying life, I have been known to forget to eat because I am in the moment, whether or not that is anorexia or not, I don’t quite know, but it’s a funny thing with me!

I have body dysmorphia, I believe I am really hideous, so I don’t like to share images of myself – I am trying to change my perception of myself, by adding pictures of myself here soon and regularly.  To see whether or not I am as hideous as I think or not! 

Stupid in reflection, because social media is often cruel as it is sometimes kind!

Things most people don’t know about me, is that I am very bisexual or rather pansexual, if I find someone attractive and I get along with them, I will go into a relationship with them, whether man, woman or trans.  I have dated Trans men before and ladies, but I was never open about it.

I am also shy about my own crossdressing forays.  I love to dress as the young dandy of the late eighteenth century but I am also really into Bohemian and kawaii styles too, I am very eclectic and I live each day differently. 

If I could have any magical power I suppose it would be transmogrification, so I can change my looks according to my feelings of the day!

I love to have long hair, but I have alopecia as well as mild trichotillomania (which is triggered when badly stressed or bullied) which is ruining my looks – I have thought about shaving my hair to a very short pixie cut or crew cut and wearing wigs, but I am frightened of doing that, in case of abuse and attack and becoming unattractive to new relationships in my life.

My alopecia is due to malnutrition as I have a digestive disease and pernicious anaemia where I am not able to absorb B vitamins and biotin in particular. 

Despite not wearing makeup much and having a limited wardrobe, I am very fashion conscious and love the fashion industry and watching Vogue on YouTube etc.  I have never been educated in how to use make-up by anyone, except the videos I see online; I am really quite a novice.  I am not confident about knowing what I am doing and this too is something I want to change!

I am not known for wearing dresses, but I am getting into them these days!  I never liked wearing trousers, but I did it because I was told to for so many years, that wearing them became a habit!

I always liked maxi-dresses and skirts and certain styles and colours and up until recently I have been mostly black (influenced as a perfect choice by my mother) and occasionally pink (chosen by Henry and Paul).

I like loud and bright looking clothing and I was told in order to wear bright garish clothing, I need to be a super confident, loud and garish person!  If I am not that, then I will be humiliated by the public and picked on!  So I have avoided it.

This too, will change!

I always felt that nobody is interested in somebody like me, no one wants to hear what someone like me wants to say – but as I am learning more about the social media, the more I have learned that you become who you are, share what you are and you will find your tribe, you will find others like you and the world will become smaller and more inclusive for you as an individual.

Gone are the days of true isolation.

This is why I want to harness using technology and social media, I need to find out for myself that I truly am not alone, that there are people out there just like me, who think like me and like the things I like too – that I am not a weird little thing that needs to be hidden in case it is destroyed by society, like I have always been told I am!

I have the right to exist how I want to exist, so does everybody!  So I am going to fight for it and become exactly who I want to be!

You realise of course I am shitting brick as I am saying this?  Because now I have told this to you all, I have to now actually act upon it… don’t I?

Well, I’ll try…

Thanks for reading!

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Filed under About Me

Mental health experiences

Descent into madness as a trope is something I have written in a couple of my novels, I have always been lured into reading books that have this as a theme and I think it has something to do with personal experience.

I have been there, twice in fact and I have experienced the rollercoaster of having such mental illnesses, so I can identify with certain characters.

I remember being put into such a violent situation so regularly and though I would fight against engaging in any physical conflict with my aggressors, I did succumb once to a violent frenzy that was uncontrollable, my doctor reckons it was my brain going into survival mode as I explained how I experienced the red into black vision as I went into a rage that I can’t explain to anyone what happened during it, only that others were absolutely horrified at what had ensued.

I went through eight months of daily torture, having to share my life with a group of aggressive adolescents because of a day care school I was sent to, a school which ironically was supposed to have helped me heal from my post-traumatic stress experiences of the isolation and abuse I had at home.

I had recently had lifesaving surgery because of an infection that got too close to the brain thanks to the mastoid problems I had, it was literally just two months before the incident I had the operation.

So you can imagine how delicate I was in the head area, so when the group decided to push me over a wall that had a nine foot drop, I went into such a rage that I had no idea what I was doing and a girl nearly got severely hurt because of my actions!

It was surprising for another reason, I couldn’t bend over and care for myself for two years after the surgery and this was within two months of it, yet I could find the strength in me somehow to drag the ringleader girl across the playground and into the girl’s toilets where I nearly drowned her!

There were lots of witnesses who saw the entire thing, including teachers, who knew that I was a good pupil who didn’t like to interact with anything that would cause me problems (I had enough at home and was often sat in the library to get rest), I was shy and insecure and healing from awful surgery from which I nearly died.  They knew I was badly provoked and they supported me through this time and managed to expel this girl, even though she did come off the wrong end that day – this was enough for them to feel that she was never meant to have been around vulnerable children – this school was just a stop gap for her as she had been expelled before.

I’ve experienced such deep depression and loss to the extent I have become anorexic and addicted to exercise to the point of collapse.  I have been there; I have even experienced the loss of two pregnancies, one due to violence and the other as an ectopic pregnancy.

I have been a victim of domestic abuse, sexual abuse, emotional neglect and rape. 

I know what it feels like to lose control.

When I used to engage with English tutors they would be horrified at the graphicness of my writing, particularly when I used to write horror and thriller more than I do now.  I said to them, you told me that it’s best to write what you know and that shocked them even more.

Some people just can’t believe that one person can have gone through as much as I have; I have even had therapists quit on me, due to the extent they didn’t know how to help me as there was just so much to work on – so much crap in my life!

I have experienced a huge amount of discrimination from ex-boyfriends who don’t believe I have gone through all of these things, because it’s too much.  Paul is different; he understands and has witnessed a few things for himself.

I have only written about four characters with this trope, horror, thriller and dark fantasy.

Usually the character has some kind of background as being a victim of abuse.

I know the feeling of the spiral of hopelessness, that darkness that descends over you and clouds your vision, that experience of losing control of not only your mind but your actions.  Losing such control that no matter how much you really want to talk it through to people, you can’t utter a single word, it is like your mouth has been sewn up and there is nothing you can do.  You can’t move your eyes to look at them, it is as though you have been paralysed.

Yes, I have experienced the total breakdown, where I have well and truly become non-comprimentos, it lasted nearly a year.

The thing is, when you are in that state, you can see and hear what is going on around you, but you can’t respond, it’s like you have been turned into stone.

You can still remember what goes on around you sometimes, but you just can’t react.  I reacted once, finally, when in this… it shocked me too, as well as the people around me… because I wasn’t eating they threatened to put tubes into me to make me eat and on the day they were about to insert the tubes, I came to again.  Fighting against them doing this to me; I don’t know to this day, why it was that which woke me out of that state.  But I spoke them into allowing me have half an orange to see how I go.  They didn’t put the tubes in me.

The problem was my keyworker loss her kindness for me after this, because in her eyes, I must have been pretending all this time – I wasn’t!

Happy reading!

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Henry the creative researcher

My Henry is eleven years old and this post is going to be about him.

Henry has wanted to become a chef since he was eight years old, before that he wanted to be a doctor, he still wants to be a chef, but he also wants to be an artist and writer and understands that life as a creative can be hard so he will need to find a more stable job until his creative career takes off.

Henry has a love for learning, particularly culture and history.  Henry knows that his family history is rich and he loves to learn about it all, from the deepest darkest depths that we can find through the assistance of places such as GenesReunited etc.

Learning about family history has prompted Henry to want to write his own novel.  Henry wants to write a novel about the late Edwardian into early Windsor times (if that’s a time period?).  The only thing I am allowed to say about the novel is that it is about two friends who live in the countryside and have a love for trains and is surviving through the throes of the dreaded Spanish flu.

I have no idea what made Henry interested in writing such a book, but I am proud that he is doing it, complete with his own illustrations and is determined to get it published once finished.

He is obsessively learning about life from 1900 to 1925 as this is the era he is writing about.  This is an obsession I can live with, because before that, his obsession was what he calls “The golden era of professional wrestling”.  Now I love wrestling personally, but when my Henry gets an obsession, believe me, it is a total war type obsession!

Henry, working on his novel.

Henry has been telling me how the poorest of poor in those days ate mostly rabbit, he told me this whilst giving awkward glances to our house rabbit Ray, who was quick in thumping his foot at hearing this, which was both spooky, funny and very apt!

Henry’s art is really good and at school most of his house points come from the art class and design technology.  Henry’s school is attached to the performing arts college, so he has been doing a lot of art, dance and drama in this school.

Henry has been noted for having a natural talent for entertainment, but has recently refused an audition for Matilda, down to the fact that since he has been bullied, he is losing his confidence slightly.  He also feels that the jealousy could increase his risk of being bullied, if he were to be successfully accepted in a role.

I have noticed that Henry tends to write and do art more when he has visibly seen me do this in front of him myself – so it is my duty, as his role model, to work when he is around instead of avoiding him like I have done in the past.  Because I personally work better alone, but Henry is influenced by what I do, so as I said in previous posts, I have to get out of my comfort zone and do work, regardless of who is present with me at the time.  I have to work it out for Henry’s sake!

Happy reading everyone!

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Defining self update May 2021

Since 2012 I had been trying to learn how to define myself – why?  Because I had such a suppressed, isolated and abused life before that time that I had never developed my true personality, likes and dislikes etc; because I was never allowed to be nurtured as an individual.  I was literally born to become a facsimile of my mother’s dreams and wishes and because her dreams and wishes went against a lot of my own instinctive nature, both of us were very unhappy with the result and neither of us got exactly what we wanted from my existence.

Where it was my nature to sit quietly, drawing, cutting & pasting, playing Barbie dolls and watching cartoons, it was my mother’s nature to force me to listen to pop music, watch top of the pops, worry about fashion, gossip and EastEnders and to try and teach me to give certain people Hell on Earth. 

When I was bullied by other children, it was my nature to ignore them, but confide in my mother and hope that she would try and help to advise me or complain to the parents or head teacher on the rare occasions I went to school; but instead she responded with the concept that I had to play dirty and hit them back or I was considered weak and therefore would only get bullied continuously.  There was a situation with my mother’s close friend, where her two children bullied me and pushed me off my own swing in my own back garden, I ran indoors crying and both my mother and their mother dragged me outside with a broom and told me to hit those kids as hard as I could or else I would get it instead.

Looking back I still can’t believe how both my mother, her friend and her children would sit back and laugh in recollection of that day, especially as I chose not to hit the kids with the broom and instead scarper upstairs as fast as I could and bolted my bedroom door up with my bed to stop any punishment of my supposed cowardice.  I stayed in my bedroom for the rest of the day, because I knew once my dad came home my mum couldn’t continue her plans, as dad had a sweet nature and wouldn’t allow it.  A trick I had learned to use for most of my life – hide till dad gets home.

I had to learn to be partly how she wanted me to be, as long as it didn’t go against my personal morals within reason.  I am glad to say, I have a higher standard of morals than she does.

The amount of times she had tried to train me to be violent, it had worked in some cases, but in others it only taught me how to literally close my emotions off at dangerous situations.  I easily phase out when there is a dangerous violent person around me ranting and raving and throwing things around, I go blank, close down, and become almost robotic.  It is something I have been told I need to alert the doctor about, but I won’t because I feel that they might try to think it would be helpful to keep me switched on.  A lot of people state that switching myself off emotionally during these times can be very dangerous, a sign that I could become a dangerous person, but I am by my very nature, quite passive unless provoked too much!

I just want a quiet life where I am loved, that’s all.  I want happy people who dislike drama and just want to get on in life, not bored, arrogant people who thrive on bullying and drama.  That’s not for me.  I don’t want that kind of attention.  I just want love, peace, getting on with my art, games, gardening and pets.  That’s all.  Boring I guess to a lot of people, but I would be very happy.

I am learning that a lot of things I thought I loved when I lived with my mother are actually things I was taught to love because she liked them.  Since moving away, on every context of my life, I am unrecognisable.  I don’t hold myself the same way anymore and I certainly don’t have the same voice anymore, strange I know, but even my voice has changed a lot!

There are a few things I wanted to be, do and have, when I lived with my mother, that I still want to be, do or have now; but not much of it. 

I still want to be a writer that gets her books published, but I understand that for now, it is best not to get published before Autumn of 2022, for certain personal reasons.

I still regard myself as bisexual, something that I have never been open about to any member of my blood family, due to stigma, my mother has a problem with gay people – she wouldn’t hurt them, but she is ridiculously avoidant of them and I have heard the kinds of things she says behind their backs!  The rest of the family are kind of open to homosexuality, but they are very Catholic too, so it is a stiff subject to rise with them.  Some of those family members will now most definitely know, because I know they read this blog.

Despite being sick, I have always wanted a homestead or a smallholding.  But I have to be realistic with what I can physically do, but I am trying hard to find a way in keeping to this dream, but working around the disabilities too.  I don’t have a big enough property yet, to do it, but I am researching a lot about chickens and food forest permaculture style gardening and that sort of thing.

I used to regard almost shamefully how much of a gamer I am, but these days I am starting to feel a part of a proud community of gamer nerds.  It is becoming cool to be a gamer nerd these days and it is a huge boost to my confidence about admitting to people my love for PC games in particular.

I also used to feel slightly ashamed at being a reader, because in my mother’s side of the family in particular, to be a reader, was regarded as weird as you admitting that you are a lifestyle Klingon who actively understands the whole of the Klingon dictionary!  Actually I know some Klingon words, an ex-online long-distance boyfriend of mine was a lifestyle Klingon who moved to USA and became pretty famous for it… so there you go!

I have always wanted to be a larper too, which is something that Paul has always wanted to be too, so we might do that together someday.

But there is a whole host of other stuff I never knew I liked before recently.  Really strange things that are even starting to raise Paul’s eyebrows in confusion as to…. Why is this interesting?  But I honestly can say, I don’t know why I am finding life of bacteria, soil health and microbiology so fascinating lately; as well as the entire lifecycle and habits of bees.  I also read a lot of books on cosmology and physics and this is puzzling to Paul because I can’t do math, don’t understand any of the maths involved in all of this and therefore only understand the non-mathematical parts of the stuff I am learning.  I have dyscalculia, it is dyslexia for math, and it has been confirmed professionally by the OU.

I have been thinking about joining SkillShare to see if there are videos that would help someone like me learn math to as high as I possibly can despite this problem.  But I won’t be able to afford that for a while, until the debts have been bought down a bit.

I don’t know why I want to learn math, especially as I don’t really plan to do anything with it, other than learn stuff I don’t really need to learn because I won’t have a career in microbiology any time soon.  But it is fun stuff the bits I do understand.

I am very geeky, I admit it.  But there you go.

Another thing my family will not recognise is my eating habits.  I don’t eat like how I used to because of medical reasons.  I can’t eat lactose (dairy) at all unless it is vegan, because my stomach can process it anymore.  I shouldn’t eat gluten (wheat) because it irritates my skin and asthma, but I do slip that in more than I should and I should avoid eating more than 2 eggs a week.  Because all of this can aggravate my problems; my main diet looks like this – 70% vegetables and the rest meat or fruit.  I have less than half a plate of my usual dinner size meal per day, for the whole day.  This is regarding what my mother would expect.  When I lived with my mother it was normal to consume 4500 calories per day – since cutting out a lot of the allergen foods and because of my illness, I can barely manage 1500 calories most days.  I am on high doses of most vitamins and minerals because I can’t process a lot of them.

My mother would think I am starving to death if she saw me eating 1 chicken fillet with a Mediterranean style salad and 2 roast potato halves, which is my usual meal and often only meal of the day.  Because I just can’t physically cope with more than that anymore.  Weirdly, I am just not losing weight, but I am losing inches.

Funnily enough doctors aren’t too worried about this because according to blood tests, my iron is the best levels they’ve ever been my whole life, lately!  I used to have constant anaemia when I lived with my mother and even was diagnosed with an auto-immune disease called pernicious anaemia too.  I have problems with B vitamins or something, which is now worse because of the lack of gluten in my diet, bread is rich in vitamin B, but I can’t have normal bread.

The new me is becoming very different to how I imagined I would be.  A lot of the things I thought were my deepest desires are now considered things I no longer want.  I wanted a large family, but because the cosmos has contrived to make my family as tiny as possible I have gave up fighting for it and no longer want any more children.  I never wanted to live in a rural area, I always wanted to be a suburban homesteader, but now I want to be as rural as I can get, whilst maintaining at least an hours journey from a major British city, London or Manchester.

I never wanted to become vegan, but I have to say, that my body is doing better with a plant based diet than not – though I am not giving up meat anytime soon, just yet.  But I am surprised that my diet is literally 75% plants, whereas before, it was around 20%

I am having a problem with sugar lately and I am finding candies less enjoyable than berries and vegan vanilla ice-cream.

All these are in my opinion are major changes.

I had very little respect for certain types of art and music and now I love them and will even fight for them.

I am becoming so very, very different; it is both exciting and scary!

I am shocked at who I am becoming.

Thank you for reading.

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Filed under Defining myself

Defamation and freedom of speech

I am tired of being silenced by fear; especially since in the past few days I have had the energy to thoroughly research the defamation act of the UK.  I was surprised to discover that not many claims go to court; because the courts will not entertain something unless two major things have happened to the plaintiff e.g. loss of earnings (not applicable, they are retired and won’t be working in the future) and secondly, they have experienced physical harm by a third party due to claims.  (Again not applicable and if it is, it needs to be proven).

If I can prove what I have said is true about the plaintiff then it will be thrown out of court.

UK laws value freedom of speech and freedom of expression, they take a dim view of people trying to silence others – in fact, I would be well into my right to take them to court for breach of my human rights.

Not only this can I pull up various character references from a number of people who have experienced what my mother can be like; both familial and professional.

My own character reference has often been described by others, even by those that still support my mother as being very nervous and quiet, good and old fashioned, if somewhat spooky at times. The worse thing I have ever done was run away and scared my mother as it was sudden and frequent between the ages of 20 and 27.  Quite a lot of the control, isolation and abuse even went into my adulthood; she affected my careers, studies, whatever I wanted to do.  All the drop outs were primarily caused by my mother; I had to get away to get a life, basically. 

My mother would be described by a lot of people as a fun person with an intimidating air, someone who is hard to talk to and hard to negotiate with, but someone reliable in a crisis; though confrontational.

The sheer cost of taking this to court will affect both sides and both sides are likely to be in debt for a very long time, because the cost of a claim like this is astronomical, from what I have learned.  It is not like a small claims court.  As far as I am aware you cannot get legal aid for this.

Both society and courts have a dim view on people who try to silence victims and try to stop freedom of speech. 

If I were to earn money from what I am saying and I do sell my books and art and have enough money to make being sued worthwhile to the plaintiff; the world also takes a dim view of people trying to pocket other people’s earnings; when they lose the court case – and they will! (Because the evidence is against them) it can actually affect the reputation and earnings of the plaintiff – because as far as I am aware, the plaintiff will not be my mother, but my brother!  As far as I am aware, he cannot sue for defamation unless my mother agrees, because according to the courts, she is the victim of these claims not him.  It would be a very unwise thing to partake in for him and his future.

I am also puzzled by the fact that, if what I am saying is supposedly untrue and hurts my mother to read and hear of such things, why does she claim to me on Facebook that both she and my brother and my dad watches my blog like a hawk?  Even subscribed to do so, so they don’t miss anything I may have said about them? 

Because the fact of the matter is, my mother cannot help herself!  She is and always will be a control freak, who just wants to intimidate me even from afar.  With scare tactics such as “We are watching you”, “We will ruin you before you even get started”, “We will do… whatever”. 

It worked for a time, but I am wise to the world now and its ways and to be honest, what they are saying and trying to do is utterly ridiculous, child’s play really.  A bully’s tactics to control and entice fear into those they presume to be emotionally weak or what they presume still are emotionally weak people.  It doesn’t rub anymore.

My claims are true and many things I can prove, can they say the same?

Thanks for reading this guys; I look forwards to my human right of the freedom of speech in the future and for you all to get to know me a lot better!

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Filed under About Me

Horror story of the iceberg of my life

A few days ago I wrote a long piece about parts of my life and how things in my past affect me currently, I never got around to posting that piece because I still haven’t entirely got my head around this new way of editing that WordPress has set up recently.  It seems that if I were to cut and paste my blog entries into WordPress admin, it will not allow me to change the font size or colour, well not easily for me and I have tried to get my head around it and I can’t.  So being that all my posts are done via Microsoft word first and foremost, I have to tell you that all of my posts henceforth will be in white font and the same size.

I shall say it all again anew, because upon reflection, there were a lot of vital points I missed out in the first draft.  All my posts on this blog are first draft, except for this one.

Due to growing up in such a controlling atmosphere and in relative isolation, I was never given permission to develop both independence and individuality.  I didn’t manage to move away from my mother until I was twenty seven years of age and I didn’t fully break physical contact with her until I was thirty and only recently stopped contacting her altogether since Easter of 2019, aged thirty six.  The break was difficult, not in a sense that it was emotionally pulling for me, but in the sense that it was truly difficult to break ties with someone who was so stubbornly controlling and persistent.

I started to develop my own fashion sense around 2012 but it still isn’t fully honed and a lot about the past me, was never really me.  Not the true me.  I was the image of which my mother wanted me to be in looks, behaviour and likes and dislikes.  Her control over me was complete.  What I liked in 2012 are not things I like now, in fact, I learned that since I am not expected to like or do those things, I actually detest them or at least dislike them enough to rarely bother with.  Simple things such as the type of music I liked, the type of programs I watch regularly, the food I choose to eat, just everything.

Nobody can understand how tight the control was over me.  How even how I spoke and the way that I spoke were not really me at all either, they were reflections of my mother’s expectations.  Growing up and even as an adult I was always terrified of doing anything outside of what my mother approved of, even if it was something as trivial as accidentally dropping a tiny piece of paper on the floor in the living room whilst going to the kitchen bin.  I lived in constant terror of what would happen if she noticed, or worse, what would happen to me if I did something I didn’t notice I did, like dropping the tiniest piece of paper on the floor in the living room whilst going to the bin in the kitchen.  My mother has extreme OCD about cleaning, tidying and minimalist culture that her hands are often raw and sore for how much she cleans them and she is the type of house cleaner which never wears rubber gloves when scrubbing the house top to bottom in bleach!

I lived in a very sterile environment for both, physical, mental and spiritual growth as well as personal growth in an individualistic sense.  My doctors blame the way I grew up for my weakened immune system.  My mother was immaculate about everything, social services often commented on how thick the air was in the house with the stench of bleach that they needed to sit by an opened window or simply try and talk to us on the doorstep or at the centre.  I was not the sort of child my mother would allow to go into the garden and play in the mud, although gardening was encouraged there was a fine limit to what I could and could not do out there.

Along with this strict cleaning regime and isolation was her ideology of never immunising me for anything – I never knew until I met Paul that I am lucky to be alive as an avid gardener because I have never had a tetanus shot.  I didn’t get chicken pox until I was twenty one years old, shortly after I started work as a trainee classroom assistant and I never got the nursery school child’s disease, hand foot and mouth until my own son, Henry was three years old!  I got my MMR vaccine when Henry was born because the midwife was astounded I never had it and was surprised my pregnancy was as healthy as it was when there was a measles epidemic in the area. 

My therapists are often surprised that I am not as mentally damaged as I should be considering everything I have gone through.  I am most certainly damaged, but in their opinion I am doing surprisingly well for someone who has had the life I have.  I like to think it has something to do with books.  The types of books I read from the age of eighteen onwards were very helpful to me.  Reading was the only thing my mother never interfered with and always encouraged, but she never had an interest in what I was reading so she never really knew what I got from the library every Friday afternoon, even though she would take me there and wait around an hour.  I read sparse snippets between my never ending chores and over half the books I read and still do read to this day are self-help non-fiction books.  Books about taking charge of your own mind, you own individuality, your own life and cosmic ordering and mental strength enhancement etc.  I never made the decision to break away from my parents and share my life with the world until I read a book called “Toxic Parents” by Susan Forward; until I read that book I had the belief that with sheer determination and patience, I could convince my mother that I am safe in the world and that I know what I am doing and that I can be whatever I want to be and that it’s going to be OK, because I still love her and would care for her much better if she just let me have a normal life.  But the book showed me that I was simply fooling myself, like all children who want their parents to love and nurture them do.  It isn’t until a large chunk of the child’s life has gone does the child realise that it is fruitless living in hope that such a controlling toxic person would ever change, especially if they don’t see a reason why they should!  The book suggested that I broach two things with my mother and depending on her response, I would know if there really is any hope for us.  So, the book asked me to ask her the two questions I wanted to.  A – Please give me permission to live the life I want and to go out without asking your permission first as I am an adult now.  An B – tell her what I hope for our future relationship and some pointers to help my mother change a little so we can cooperate together.  My mother’s responses to A were a resound NO and her responses to B were why should I be the one to change?  You see she didn’t understand that I wasn’t changing her personality, I was only asking her to change how she treats me and to let me live a normal adult life; I was thirty years old when I broached this with her and I had a three year old child who often saw his mother in tears after every visit and phone call from her mother!  Because my mother would try and talk my child into believing that mummy is stupid and foolish and fat and then she’d try to spoil him with candies and gifts.

Basically I learned from those two questions, that she would never change, our circumstances would never change, in fact it would get worse as she would come between my child and I and make an unhealthy relationship there too.

I knew for the sake of my child I had to stop contact with her, because she was encouraging dangerous behaviour in my toddler, it shocked me because she is usually an uber cautious person regarding children, but I often wondered if she did this, to get my son out of the way, to make me lose him by showing others how incompetent I am and using her old card of mentioning my nervous breakdown when I was an adolescent and saying, she has mental health problems, she is unable to care for a child – see, this is what has happened to her son.  I lulled this over for a few weeks, then my mother encouraged Henry to climb up and jump off the dining table, she tried this a couple of times and I demanded it stopped, she went home in a grump.  When I was cooking dinner Henry climbed the dining table and called me, he wanted to jump into my arms like my mother was encouraging him to do when she was there in her arms – I didn’t get there in time and he smashed his head on the furniture on the way down and we rushed him to hospital for stitches!

A couple of days later I sent him to play group and the family support worker saw what happened to Henry and asked me about it, I explained and told her about my past with my mother and she told me, if I didn’t break contact with her she would feel it was her responsibility to call child welfare because my mother is endangering him.  Many abusive parents do end up abusing their grandchildren if the parent is still easily coerced by them.  I agreed and decided not to return her phone calls from that moment onwards.  I knew if I confronted her directly she was likely to become upset and would drive 100 miles to come and see me eye to eye and wouldn’t be very diplomatic about it either.  Yes it was a coward’s way, but it was the best way to handle her.

Anyway, it took seven years for her to finally get the message I am not messing around.  In 2015 my brother found my blog and told her everything I had said on it, I deleted a lot of it, because I was threatened.  But I learned through legal advice that being I would have reports on my mother’s behaviour from doctors and social services that my mother and brother wouldn’t have a leg to stand on in court as I would have a lot of evidence against her – not only that but there are people in my life who would vouch for how aggressive she has been with them in the past too, in fact quite a few.

Why am I sharing this right now?  Because I am going through a self-designed therapy to find myself; to develop my personality, to develop independence, confidence, life skills, social skills, art skills, writing skills, I am trying to define myself.  I am trying to find out who I am and what I like, I am tasting many spices of life and I am dipping into all sorts of new things in an attempt to find what is me and what isn’t me!

There is a lot to work on.  My personal image, my behaviour, my reactions, my morals, my ethics, my beliefs, my sense of style and wants and needs – all these things make a person and I was never allowed to be a unique person.  Not only was I supressed by a controlling mother who wanted to mould me a certain way, but I was supressed by religion too.  I believe in a God, but I won’t dedicate myself to a religion nor talk about any kind of definition of them other than, they are a creator.  I regard myself as a humanist, despite some superstitions I have and pagan ways I might have and despite my belief in higher beings.  I know it sounds paradoxical but my life is pretty complexed.  I don’t know the proper words for many things and I often know things, but don’t know their names, if you understand me?

Mentally I suppose I am still like a child, at least in a lot of ways I have a childlike innocence about me, because of my lack of social interaction over the years.  But to call me naïve, foolish or even stupid, that is wrong – because I have seen more and experienced more than most people have in such a short time.  Though my life has been an isolated one, it has not been without its brutal experiences both personal and observational.  Another thing which surprised my therapist – the things I have gone through in this country, the things friends and family have experienced which has mentally and emotionally affected me, lots of things an average British person would not experience in normal circumstances.  Such as, knowing more than one person in your family or friendship circle who has been murdered, knowing of many women who have been raped or serially raped, knowing drug abusers, knowing prostitutes and criminals, seeing an animal killed in front of me, having strangers attack you, being raped, a very late miscarriage I had to hide, surviving a bomb explosion near your home, witnessing people having mental breakdowns, flaps and suicides, witnessing people having seizures or being brutally and fatally harmed, being a victim of racial abuse, being wrongfully accused of thieving and attacked for it, being forced into a Jehovah Witness membership as a teenager by a relative, having run ins with cults and gangs but not willingly involved with them, just wrong place at wrong time, being a victim of domestic violence and held underwater and sorry to say these are just the  tip of the iceberg of my life.

Every wondered why I rarely talk about my life offline?  There’s your answers – it is difficult to talk about these things, but when you have grown so used to extreme violence in your life, you become so hard and numb to it all that you don’t wobble or cry about it anymore and when you tell the average Joe about it all and you don’t show an emotional response, just blankness, they presume you are lying, because you should be in tears.  It’s utter rot.  The more you go through, the number you get, and you learn to switch off.

Some people get frightened about this, they think it is a sign I could be a psycho.  Hilarious and ironic, me the psycho, not the people in my past, but me, the victim who doesn’t cry, they’ve been made into a psycho, they might be capable of horrific things if they don’t cry.  Society really has to change their perception of how they believe a victim should behave.  Some people live such rotten lives so regularly that to sit back and cry is not only a waste of time and energy, but it also becomes fucking dangerous!  You cry and those who made you cry will make you cry again and again, they will keep on hurting you.  Some abusers hate it if you don’t cry, it sends them mad, but eventually, if you persist, they give up.  I’ve learned this, but I learned it the hard way.  The hit you harder and say worse things to you to get the response they want, you can’t feed their desire to break you or else they’ll never leave you alone.

I remember the times I cried in front of my mother, it made her laugh and satisfied, sometimes she would find my fear so hilarious she would try it again and again, as my fearful responses amused her.  I learned when I was fifteen to stop showing fear, suck it up and zone out and concentrate on imaginary things whilst she is at her worst and although she is purple faced bellowing in mine and slapping me across the face, as long as I concentrate hard enough on my imagination, she could not get what she wanted.  You can do it, you can concentrate on your imagination so intensely in brutal times, that you can literally remove yourself spiritually from that time and place, but you will come back and feel the bruises and see the exhausted bully in the corner in tears because it didn’t get what it wanted and then you will see how childlike they really are.

So, I am trying to keep them far behind me.  I am trying to define myself.  Who am I?  I want to share my development here on my blog, but I am also afraid to do so.  I feel so silly and immature explaining the depths of my self-therapy, but I also feel I need to do it too. 

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Filed under About Me

A dying spirit

I need to get this off my chest, I apologise if the following becomes a long-winded rant and it is not my intention.

But I simply can’t do it anymore – I cannot live up to other people’s expectations and other peoples idea of what is or is not morally correct or what is or is not true; Everything that I talk about regarding my current life and my past are all true in my eyes, but a lot of people will deny that it is the truth and I can understand why they would lie about that – they are trying to socially protect themselves because they treated me wrong and don’t want the ramifications of how others may perceive them for it.  I appreciate their feelings on this, but I won’t hide the truth, I won’t keep deleting things just because the truth fucking hurts them, they never take into account how much their actions have hurt me so why the fuck am I so bloody accommodating to them?

I have rights too, I have a right to express myself anyway I blooming need to in order to heal.  Living a life of quiet pacification is literally killing me as a person and me as an artist/writer.

Living the life that my previous abusers want me to, is killing the person that I am in every way shape and form that a person can be!

I took on this blog back in winter of 2012 purely as to act as a form of therapy for myself as recommended by my therapist, he suggested I talk freely about everything I want to regarding my life, he recommended that I also use it to bring back the creative person I was again.  It worked until some people found out a few things about my mum they never knew before and they like defensive little minions went and told her and defended her and grouped up on me via telephone and emails to hound me to tell everybody who reads my blog that everything I said was a lie.  They wanted me to lie about the truth I told – they demanded then that I go to London again and at a family gathering literally grovel for my mother’s forgiveness in front of them!  I am quite serious about what I just said; they did demand this of me!

Every time I say something about them on my blog, I do run the risk of anyone in my family still sticking around to read what I am saying, relaying and potentially getting telephone calls and emails again, which is why I had to change the telephone number and we are considering moving because of this, because I can’t be silent anymore.  I need to express everything I have gone through and I feel it is my calling to help others who have gone through the same coercive upbringing as I have, by talking about my past.  A coercion that I was raised in is quite unusual but not unheard of and many people who have experienced this kind of abuse rarely talk about it, because of how violent a large amount of people can get if they hear of it.  You see it is usually lead by one individual who has a large social circle who will act like posse to reign in the abused child if they start getting out of hand or rather, start becoming independent and so-called rebellious to their clique ideologies. 

It rather like living with a mafia minded family with an extended social circle of friends all of whom think alike, like a big extended hive mind. 

This kind of abuse is hard to deal with for a lot of therapists; I have never found one who has been able to help me.  They all suggest that various people of whom have taken a part in controlling me should go and see them, but who the fuck will go up to their abusers and say “you know what?  My therapist wants to see you as I seem relatively stable in comparison to you guys”.  Lol – no one is going to do that and the therapist appreciates that for safety reasons it is probably best not to suggest it.

You know how badly the revelation to my mother has affected me? 

I became for a long time now, primarily a poet who occasionally dips into abstract impressionistic paintings, because I have been scared to talk about anything anymore.  I have even been told that some of my novels I used to write, that the family often used to read, that they see now that some of the things in my fiction work could actually be based on my supposed “poor abused childhood fantasy life”, to a certain extent a few of the themes in my stories are based on my own personal experiences, but I understand enough to know what is true and what isn’t.  That is my fiction.  The stuff I talk about regarding my life is TRUE and I state this quite clearly, the message has not been mixed!

Because I am struggling to appease my abusers so they don’t come back into my life in an aggressive way, I have almost ignored a lot of my creative expression via words and non-fiction posts.  This has led to me becoming so severely depressed that it is affecting my health badly.  I have a lot of problem with mobility of the whole of my left side of the body and I have extreme insomnia and hypersomnia – what I mean is, I can’t sleep for like 30 hours and then when I do I can’t wake up for 15 hours and sleeping comes randomly at any time and once I feel just a tiny bit tired, it is almost like I have collapsed into a coma.  Nobody can wake me up, not even Henry having a tantrum on the bed next to me; it is like I have died!  Quite often, the last thing I think about when I go to sleep is “I hope I die in my sleep – I don’t want to wake up, I don’t like the burden of my memories”.

My appetite is dead, I only eat when extremely hungry now and it is usually just one meal per day and around the side of a sandwich, coincidentally I am losing a huge amount of weight pretty quickly and my hair is around 60% white now.

To say the suppressors are literally killing me by using my own mind against me is an understatement.  I find no joy in anything anymore.  Everything about the sweet, bubbly, fun, obedient, passive, quiet, little Tina everybody once knew is dead.

In trying to force me to be their idea of perfect instead they have made me their idea of a waste of space.

For my health and sanity sake I have to heal the only way I know how.  So I am taking a risk, if they get back into my life again somehow, so be it, I am ready for the repercussions because the alternative is death anyway.  I am going to die someday anyway, why is sooner no better than later?  Would I rather die in secret of how I died and be a mystery to all who knew me forever, or do I want to die in a way where other people can understand me and understand my situation and perhaps, just maybe, stop this from happening to other people?

I know which one I have picked.

The thing is – before they interfered and demanded me to delete and shut up, I was only sharing what I thought was the minor stuff, the stuff that isn’t too big to shout about.  The stuff that is easy for my readers to digest – but now they’ve done this, maybe it is time for the real big stuff, the stuff that makes my therapists cry?  That stuff I kept to myself, that stuff I never revealed and I don’t think people like my big brother, understand there is an even darker side to our mother, than even he realises!

I don’t like talking about that stuff, because I hate remembering the really, dark, dark stuff, but how I express it here, sometimes it comes out sub consciously through my abstract impressionistic art and the images I paint are also not easy to digest for a lot of people.

But I think it is time to just be me in every way shape and form and not hide from myself anymore.  I can’t.  Shutting me away in every way possible is suffocating my spirit and body to death, I need to free myself and that makes taking big scary risks!

Because I am pretty damned sure, since November, my body and spirit is preparing to die.  I am convinced of it and I need to stop this process – not for me, but for my boy.  I care only for him, not these coercive “I have a problem with your life and truth” assholes!  No one can have a bigger problem with my life and truth than ME!  Get over yourselves you control FREAKS!

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