Just a moment.....

...just want to scramble onto my soapbox......

It takes a certain amount of moral courage to stand up and say that which the silent masses know, but do nothing about, and a certain self belief to do so.......

To rise up against the NHS and the Police Force, both major institutions in this country, takes not only intelligence and nerve, but also requires the passion to do so, the ability to keep doing it when it appears nothing is happening, to continue when it seems isolating....and why? Because it is worth doing. Because it has to happen. Because every day somewhere in this City, someone, somewhere, needs those missing resources.

Yes, there has been publicity, and yes, that is important... I wonder if the conversation between the head of Plymouth Police and Oliver Colvile MP regarding detaining mentally ill people in cells when they need 'a place of safety' (Section 136, Mental Health Act 1983) would have happened if I hadn't bought it to his attention? I wonder if the resulting publicity did anymore than provoke the usual bigots who comment on articles in the Plymouth Herald to state that mentally ill should be cells, should be given strait jackets and head protectors to stop them from hurting themselves....if the article did little more than objectifying those with mental health illness... I don't know, but I hope not.

What I do know is that I don't start something without the intention of getting my own way... yes, maybe my idea of a naked protest across Plymouth was a little more than courageous, probably bordering on daft, and would have got us all locked up...but it is that passion that drives me forward...

The frustration which comes at times, can stop me. Why don't others see this as a priority? Why can't others see what damage is being done by their lack of urgency, their lack of prioritisation? But we are one in four, that is a quarter, and I guess the three quarters, don't know what it is like to be in that other quarter, and I am not alone, I am sure, in hoping that they never become the one in four that they currently are not.

So, onwards ever onwards, no I don't need a troop of cheerleaders with their pom poms, shouting that I am doing good.... I don't need a parade of naked one in fours waving banners in the air... I just need to remember what it was like to be sat in a cell for hours, what it was like to be dropped back at my flat after forty eight hours of assault, physcological assessment and then forensic examination, to know that this is right, and I will do it. 

This morning...

have woken up cross and with what MOMD calls my 'grumpy pants' on. I do not want to get out of bed, and convince myself that as there is a lion on the loose, it is better not to get up, but just to stay here and not encounter the lion of Essex, realising of course that Essex is many hundreds of miles away, but better safe than sorry. Gloom, on reading the news to discover that the lion of Essex turned out to be a large ginger tom cat and that all is well. Try to find other reasons not to get up... I know that the reason I really don't want to get up is that I have to go to heart and soul bearing therapy, and that I really don't want to go... have stern word with myself, and carefully remove foot from under warm and cuddly quilt to see if it is warm enough to get up....bahhh... it is, and I scoot to kitchen to make strong coffee and make pot noodle for breakfast. Ha, the flippin' sun is shining, well that might tempt me out, but still not sure about therapy. It is the last one of the compassionate mind therapies today. I have bought a card for the pyschologists who are running it, but feel I should go buy flowers or something. Then argue that this is their job so why should I? Guess they might expect me to say thank you with flowers and card and end up in muddle. Take coffee and pot noodle back to bed... stuff the sunshine, I am staying here.

Dream of living on a deserted island, just me and endless beaches... but no kettle, no coffee and no pot noodles, huh... dream turns into nightmare, and I decide to arise from from my pit.

Stuff countless pills in mouth and swallow with strong espresso, wait for things to seem better... no, not working.... hmm, maybe if I go and sit on step and have a quick fag, things will appear better, but cigarette makes me feel sick...back to bed, swallow sleeping tablets and give up....there is no pit, there are no dragons, but maybe the most compassionate thing to do is just to give today a miss and wake up tomorrow.

The Anti-Wedding Anniversary Day......

Today would have been my 26th wedding anniversary.I didn't make it that far, I ran away. Today brings mixed feelings, huge grief for what I have lost, and massive strength from what I have gained.

I cannot bring myself to think about the losses, therapy, psychology etc. etc. cannot bring me to discuss or think about them, I know where I go when the losses come to me, and it is not a good, safe place to be, you know where I go, Police cell, hospital bed, the depths of the pit of doom.

But, what have I gained? I guess that now, when I can combat the internal battle, that I am safe now. I choose my friends carefully, will be more carefully after I have been on the course the Police have got planned for me, I can't remember what it is called, but it is to make me more aware of abusive behaviours, what is right, what isn't right within a relationship, friendship, lovers etc., so that I can see who is being abusive before it becomes a criminal offence I guess.. Oh it is called 'Pattern Changing', and will apparently make me have more self esteem and confidence, rock on that sounds good.

So, today is full of mixed emotions. Have decided that instead of having another rotten day, I will make today my 'anti-anniversary day', and go and have fun. The sun is sunny, the bunny is happy, I will go to the Barbican and have a womble around the charity shops and find some fabric to make an anti-anniversary patchwork cushion. Nikkinoccynoo has lent me her sewing machine, so I will have a go, and make something positive and punchable! Heh heh heh, oh yes, punchable!

If you can't think of anything nice to say...

or useful, or interesting, or readable, or helpful... then I am not going to post today!

much love x

Detox Day Three....

slept well, so well that getting head off pillow was difficult. Feel like I have been sedated, except for my tummy which is violently upset, and makes me bolt for the loo frequently. Well, it is a detox, guess the 'tox has to come out somewhere... yuk

Day feels empty, the brief numbness which alcohol provided me before, has been replaced by a day long numbness from not having it... odd. Try to think of something which is worth doing today, but brain is in neutral. But, one day at a time, and today, being in Numbville, is pretty good!

In the clear light of the following day....

some things have become totally clear.
Maybe my blog last night was too honest, maybe a description of what it is like to be 'totallynutty' is not kind to readers, and leaves me vulnerable to lack of understanding and fear from others. But no, friendship has poured in, not just in comments on the bog, but through facebook comments, texts, phone calls and visits.
 My mistake to fear fear.
I am so lucky to have friends who get it.
I am going to open/advertise the blog more widely. What's the worse that could happen? Fear, negativity, lack of understanding, in which case, I just delete it, or remove access to those who cannot be educated in the ways of lunacy!
Thank you to all my friends who are there and support me, and those who do not fear, 'manic defense against chronic dysphoria', love you all x x x and much love to those who don't get it too, it took me years to accept it x

Once upon a time.....

....sadly, I have to miss the plot, because it is libellous, and the end isn't happily ever after either.
There are times when 'manic defense against chronic dysphoria', seems not only impossible, but also utterly pointless. Not the writing, the writing helps, but the condition. The fight to remain well against all odds, seems more and more like putting myself in an undefended trench whilst the enemy fire from all sides with ever increasing power.
God, Buddah, my CPN, Psychiatrist, therapists.. etc etc know how hard I try to do the right thing and to stay safe, not only from myself but also from those who have made it their lives work to manipulate, corrupt, abuse and take what they want (you can refer to the entry about fault and blame too!).
But those selfish souls have won, I give in. From now onwards they can do what they want, there is no justice, no end, no closure to this.

I will move far away, away from them all, their memories and their poison, and live in a yurt or a finca, with a few chickens and a goat, and plant seeds. I will write poetry and be regarded as slightly odd by my distant neighbours,so they will leave me alone. Occasionally I will go to an Internet cafe and write my blog, and drink good coffee.

But for now, today, I am taking my house rabbit, Dave, and my tent and I am going to practise living where no one knows me. I am going to go camping. I am going to behave slightly oddly, so that I am left alone. I will drink copious amounts of vodka, and sing loudly, and very badly. I will write my blog on bits of paper bags, and update when I return.

In the meantime I hope you all are well, are loved and are safe.

Much love x

Daizepam days.....

Things got pretty bad, pity really as the sun is shining, so it's off to Diazepam world for two weeks. Please presume nothing intelligent will be written during this time! I may write, but it is likely to be garbage!
Sort of borrowed, stole this cartoon from great site, www.gapingvoid.com the cartoons always seem to touch my soul in some way or another, so as I can not put together a coherent thought this morning, I thought the least I could do was to share the site with you.

Fighting back... Heroine or Victim?

A few years ago, I started to write a book. The book became two books, the first 'Letters to the Queen' and the second, ' Twenty One Days of Retribution'. Letters to the Queen, detailed my struggle through domestic and sexual violence over many years, and the fight to find justice and closure to it. Twenty One Days of Retribution, describes my fantasies of revenge. Fortunately they remained fantasies or I am sure I would be at the wrong end of the Criminal Justice Service!
A week ago, when I was thinking about how to change attitudes towards mental illness, I found out those books. I have been offered money for them to be published, but I could never bring myself to finish them, there never was any closure. When I looked through the manuscripts I realised that I had changed since I had written them, and the way in which I had portrayed myself was as a victim, has changed. I no longer think of myself as a victim, more of a heroine, after all despite all efforts I am still here, I survived!
I began to re-write the books, thinking that I could change the way in which I portrayed myself. But it was more painful than ever to re-read what had happened, the consequences and how I was when writing those books. I have put them away. Some things are better off not being read, or shared I think!
I am writing the sequel to those books now, 'Going ever so slightly mad', this time it is written as a triumph. A triumph over the abuse, a triumph over those people who believe that writing me off as a nutter and ignoring me would make me go away, a triumph over the Criminal Justice System (secret to be revealed very soon, well probably a couple of months!) I have not yet won myself over and I hope with all my heart to be well soon, in the meantime the demon of vodka, sedatives and cutting remain with me, but I will win. Don't forget, Manic defense against Chronic Dysphoria, I will win!

  

What on Earth does Manic Defense against Chronic Dysphoria mean?

The first diagnosis I had from my psychiatrist was that I had 'Manic Defense against Chronic Dysphoria'. This sounded pretty technical and medical and I really wasn't sure I wanted to have anything which had the word Manic and Chronic in. I asked for a translation into words of one syllable with three letters, and the response was that I try very hard not to be really unhappy about the stuff which has happened.
Woohooo.... this was amazing. Despite being severely mentally ill, I was trying really hard not to be unhappy. Daft as it might seem, this makes me feel like I am doing really well, and that I will suceed and get better. (Infact I loved the diagnosis so much I used it as my status on Facebook for a while!)