Thursday, March 31, 2016


This is not popular. There are grades of abuse. However, when I listen to people, if they know mine, they often say 'but compared to yours it was nothing' and I tell them that pain is pain. It hurts. Abuse causes damage. I have often wondered how people manage to work. Whether it be on a checkout till or as a professor or a doctor or a nurse. I managed my O levels with nine A, 1 B and 1 C. and that was me done. by the time they were finished the damage and the state that I was in could no longer be hidden. It is known that constant moving home and schools is detrimental to a child's health especially to their self-esteem. When we bought this house I was 40 years old and it was my 34th home. Most of those homes happened before the age of 17. It is known that living in a violent household is detrimental to a child's well-being as an adult. It is known that the sexual abuse of children particularly long-term is detrimental to a child's health. I know all of the above and on days like yesterday and today I have to remind myself that I am where I am because of all that. However I am also where I am because of what I have managed to do to make your life regardless. I regret never having had a career or even a job something that I enjoyed doing. I am well aware that there are many people who have jobs that they do not like but they have to do them and I'm glad I'm not in that situation. I am aware also that people see me as being kept by a wealthy man. It could not be further from the truth. If he were wealthy we would not live where we live although we love living where we live. We have excellent neighbours and it is a quiet town and we get no trouble here at all. There was a brief period of homophobic abuse by children but I nipped it in the bud because I happen to know who the children were and I knew that my neighbour new the parents of some of them. I asked her kindly is she would tell the parents what their children were doing. That not only was it hurtful and unkind but illegal. I never heard it again. Even when I was showing dogs I know that that was the rumour that I had a wealthy husband. I reacted to that the way it deserves to be reacting to with laughter and saying how silly these people were and how much we went without in order to be able to show my dogs. Now that I don't show my dogs I know exactly what we went without. Now we didn't starve and I've always been aware that if I compare we've always been in a good situation. It was not so before I met John. I don't want to talk about that. It was a dreadful time. I don't know what I am getting at here. I know many people would think I was really lucky because I can do as I please. If they thought about it my disability stops me from doing as I please which is why I have no social life. I have very dear friends who visit me when they can and I always enjoy them and they always leave me feeling better. I spend my days watching drama via Netflix or Amazon on or DVDs that we have bought and I knit socks while I am doing it. I also read. I read for entertainment but I also read for knowledge especially about science. I read the science surrounding the work that they have been doing on the effects of child abuse on the brain. It is fascinating. It is also quite freeing. Because it shows that stuff that one has felt guilty about has been beyond one's control. It also shows that the things I have considered old about myself are easily explained which is quite a relief. When soldiers come back from war and many of them are badly affected we all see that and understand that and they are often diagnosed with PTSD which we also understand. And we raise money for them so that they can receive the treatment that they need. Indeed I support such charities. Yet when it comes to understanding that children have equally survived a war and are badly damaged by it, very few are interested. Be that people who survived the battle I survived or the battles of war such as is going on in the Middle East. raising money for charities that help people like me is very difficult. I do not know why this is so. I have had people say to me that they cannot deal with that but I don't see why it should stop them giving money to help people who can deal with that. As usual when I started to write I did know what I was going to write about but now that it is in print I don't know what is was going to write about;-)

Sunday, March 13, 2016


I was talking yesterday to John about the way that I think about my past. It came about because I learned that  human beings tend to remember the bad things more clearly than they do the good things.

I also felt that in some way I was betraying the abused me by talking about or even remembering the good times also.

Before I was six or seven I lived in a small English village for a couple of years having previously lived in Germany but with very little memory of that. I love that little village. The lady neighbours were always very kind to me and I had a best friend called Alex and another one called Hiroshima and another one whose name I cannot remember who was often sick and I used to take him round big chocolate bars. Those are good memories.

It is also where I saw Hiroshima murdered in front of my eyes. This is why I know that one can have repressed memories because all I remember is the newspaper headline:   The Boy Who Died of Hate.   according to what I was told we were together and there had been some confusion over who had been killed me or him. I ignored really what I have been told but I do vividly remember being shown the newspaper headline because it was on the front page with a picture of him and I was asked who he was and I said me. I do not remember Hiroshima at al Tto Singapore. It was a very exciting place for a child. And even though I was only 8 9 10 11  I was given free rein.  it was considered a very safe place.  I remember being taken into the houses of Indian people who celebrated the Diwali festival and fed food. There was this also pink coloured drink which was disgusting and I drank it very fast which was a silly thing to do because the sooner my glass was empty the sooner they folded up again. But I was a child and naive and it didn't occur to me to not bolt the drink down!  There were lots of wonderful sites in Singapore. The food was fantastic.

At tame time as I was experiencing all these wonderful things I was being violently abused on a regular basis by my sperm donor and I had also been attacked and sexually assaulted and may be raped by a total stranger in the jungle. The trauma was made worse because the man made me swear that I would not tell otherwise he would slit my throat but when something similar happened to a neighbours girl I spoke up about what had happened to me which when I think about it from my adult point of view I think it was a very brave thing to do. My mother didn't see it that way. She slapped me and told me I was disgusting and how could I have let that happen and why didn't I say anything and blamed me for what happened to the girl next door.

I don't wish to go on with this any more but I have illustrated I think quite clearly that along with the terror there were also these good sunny exciting times. It still feels like a betrayal though to talk about those things, the good things.  I can see another maze saying 'what about me?' Well I think I gave him plenty of attention and I can't look back over my life and only see the dark period Looking back over my life I have only ever seen a big dark cloud but there have been breaks in those clouds  and they formed good memories for me and that me also deserves to be heard.

Thursday, March 10, 2016


I decided I need to talk to someone as I don't seem able to see past this brick wall. I have made two appointments with two different people and am waiting upon a third to contact me. I felt better upon waking. I had the weirdest dream. Weird in that it was literally Part 1 and Part 2. I had dreamed I was with friends, no names, and I spilled a staining drink on his expensize greed cords. I said I would take them home and clean them. i did this and the stain came out really well. I then awoke because of Lydia letting me know the neighbours were up. She is so thoughtful like that. Anyway, I went for a pee, got back to bed and part 2 of the dream: I handed him the cords and he examined them. To my shame there was a fold in the cords and the stain was hidden in that. I then awoke properly and got up. This as about 2 hours after Lydia had alerted me to the neighbours. Weird. I don't think I have ever dreamed in two parts like that before. Not sure what the dreams were about. Was abut not looking more carefully? About agreeing to do something I am incapable of? I finished the final series of Perception. It was not a satisfactory ending for me. When I read a really good book or watch a really involving series, I often find myself what the lives of the characters are like now. I know they don't exist but for a few seconds I wonder about their present lives. Either that shows I am bordering on being really nuts, the writer is excellent, or the writer and actors are excellent. I also talk to the characters on the screen. The equivalent of shouting 'he's behind you' at the cinema. I call them names., tell them off, tell them not to trust so and so, she id it or he did it, he or she is a twat, and I can get quite riled. There are shows I cannot watch anymore: Holocaust, slavery, graphic history like The Tudors, burnings, tortures etc I can watch die hard type films cos the violence is fantasy same with the comic hero films. Films about abuse although I do intend watching the new film about the court case fought in the States by victims of RC church.

Thursday, March 03, 2016


HI-does anyone read this blog anymore? It seems to they don't as there are no comments, or rarely. I have been feeling guilty a long time for not having kept it up as I did. Partly it's has been my illness and partly the immediacy of Facebook. I also think for some reason, my blog at wordpress ( is read more. 

If I find many read this, I'll continue. If not I'll stop feeling like I have to and just stick with Wordpress or FB.

I do not feel it is a chore to write about abuse recovery. Far from it. I want to. I want in my small way to help. But I don't want to waste the limited energy I have either.