Detachment.

*Self-harm / suicide*

 

 

I gazed out the window on the bus today, and I’ve honestly never felt so disconnected from life before. I didn’t feel part of the world. I felt like an observer. And at times I wasn’t even doing that.

 

The feeling of detachment, and disconnection is something I find particularly troubling about mental illness… maybe because it’s new to me. But also because it’s the one thing that puts me more at risk of doing something others would deem to be ‘stupid’ or ‘selfish’. I know that when I feel this distant from everything and everyone around me, that I am the closest I’ve ever come to doing something permanent. I once did a scale of warning signs that things are bad…. colour-coded like a traffic light – and this would certainly be a red warning, that things are about as bad as they can get.

 

My trouble is that I no longer feel anybody could reach me. I feel beyond help. Sad truth is that nobody’s even trying to reach me though. Nobody even notices how close to the edge I am. If they do they minimise it, dismiss it and invalidate me, making me feel worse – more isolated, misunderstood and troubled. I then close down further. It’s been like this for a while.

 

Looking out that bus window earlier was a saddening feeling. It was like I no longer recognise the world around me. I travel around, feeling as if it’s the last time I’ll see everything. I hear people chatting nearby, and it’s heart-breaking that people can be so busy living their lives, and not realise how broken someone next to them is feeling… how close to the end.

 

I feel no emotional connection to anything anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I feel emotions –  I have buckets full of them inside. But it’s my relation to the outside world… it’s like a part of me has died. You know how you can be talking to someone, and you see in their eyes that they’ve drifted off somewhere in their mind…. they’re not fully present. They’re pre-occupied. It’s like that… only it’s all the time. It’s not so much that I AM pre-occupied… I just feel distant.

 

I’ve always wondered what dissociation was. I know there’s depersonalisation and derealisation, and I’ve had that feeling before, where things don’t feel real. It doesn’t feel like I’m real. I had that on my therapy course actually – I heard people talking, saw them, and felt vacant, and like it wasn’t real – like it was a dream or made up in my mind. I don’t know if this is related to dissociation or not. I don’t know much about that aspect of BPD really. But it’s something that’s happened a lot more recently. Even when I’ve self-harmed sometimes, my arm doesn’t look like my arm – I feel no connection to it as my arm – this has freaked me out once or twice. But sometimes I’ve actually wanted to detach from it, so I’d repeat “It’s not my arm. It’s not my arm. It’s not my arm”, until I convince myself it’s not my arm. I know that sounds odd, but it’s relatively new to me, and I’ve never spoken about it before.

 

But life appears to me like it’s seen through foggy glass, or like it’s on a TV screen…. I feel like life is one big chemical reaction in a test tube belonging to something bigger, and I’m a rogue particle being sifted out… separated from the rest. Or like life is a doll’s house, being played with by a bigger child, and I’m the old, broken doll that’s been forgotten and left in the corner. I feel like maybe life is a dream, and when I sleep I enter the real world. I’m often happier when I’m asleep. Life feels like a nightmare. What if this is a test, to see how long it takes me to realise what reality actually is, and that I’m not living in it? What if when we die we actually start living? What if this is hell, or purgatory? I know these ideas sound a bit loopy, but it’s where my mind goes when life is this rubbish. I almost think of different scenarios for existence, simply because I feel there has to be more to life than this…. I’m not living. I don’t feel I exist here anymore.

 

I feel like a part of my spirit is gone from this world. This only happened in the last six months or so. I feel really sad that I couldn’t be helped before getting to this point. I’ve lost faith in my ability to recover now, and to reintegrate back into the world of ‘the living’. I saw the darkness growing around me, until now I’ve been swallowed by it. I’ve seriously never felt this way before. I don’t know how to live in this world anymore.

Raw Reality Of Transference.

I sometimes film video journals, when the pain of something is too great to keep inside, and writing doesn’t do enough to release it. This is the first of a series I’m likely to do on mental health issues.

 

I felt the knot of emotion in me, and didn’t know what to do with it. So I picked up the camera and hit record, and started talking until it all came out. No script. Just raw emotion. Sorry, it’s not pretty.

 

I just feel there’s a lack of understanding of transference, especially in this country, even among professionals. From my experience I sensed it was not something they were that used to… which when you’re in immense emotional turmoil with it, makes you feel isolated and desperate. They did what they could for me eventually… but it wasn’t enough. At my three month review after being discharged from the IAPT service, I wasn’t even asked about my feelings for Matt. Either they didn’t want to stir it up, they’d forgotten it was an issue, or they honestly thought I’d be over it by then. But they don’t know me. And they don’t understand BPD and attachment. The intensity of it. I’d love to educate these sorts of people on the reality of it all. I think all mental health staff could do with learning by hearing directly, from those affected by certain mental illnesses.

 

I’m actually in the process of making a couple of other videos – they’re in the editing phase… where I speak to the camera as if I’m speaking to them. Matt is one of those I did this with. I felt it was a way to say the things I never got to say to people. It was to try and find my own sense of closure and peace, as I was never given any. Sometimes it feels good just to let it out. Both videos I’m making are based on things I no longer talk about to anyone. That’s a lot of pressure to leave on yourself. I don’t like being on camera – hence my style of just the eyes…. hate my voice too. But sometimes you have to let go of these insecurities and express your feelings vocally. Since I have nobody to do that with, I make these videos.

 

This video below was a spur of the moment decision, as despite having made the other video, speaking to him, it wasn’t enough…. the memories of the course are weighing heavily on me almost a year on now, and I knew it was something I had to open up about. Though the pain is still there, it helped a little to let it out….

 

Here’s the link to my video on YouTube –

Raw Reality Of Transference

 

 

 

 

Is My Blog Doing ‘More Harm Than Good’?

 

I always wanted this blog to be a ray of hope for people with mental illness. I wanted it to speak to those who feel they’re alone with their illness. My main topic was BPD along with self-harm, and I wanted this to be a resource for those who don’t know much about BPD. I wanted to dispel some of the myths. I wanted to educate. I wanted it to be informative and hopeful for those in the process of learning about their illness.

 

I find myself at a point where I’m questioning if my blog is fulfilling its purpose. I’m sure every blogger is plagued by doubts at some point…. they think ‘Is there any point to this blog?’ … ‘Is it helping anyone, or just making them feel worse?’ … ‘Does anyone read it?’ … ‘How does it compare with others?’ … and many other questions. But I really have started to wonder whether my blog itself is doing ‘more harm than good’.

 

I’ve always been told this is my space, and I should share my feelings and be myself. It’s just not what this blog was set up for. When I first started it was explaining BPD, challenging the myths, describing the snowball effect, ‘episodes’, splitting, transference etc… but lately it’s become a venting space.

 

This is because unfortunately life has taken a downwards turn. Add to that the fact I’ve had no support, other than closest family. So I’ve had nobody to talk things through with. My blog has become a sort of ‘online journal’. It’s become a personal rant and place to explore my thoughts and feelings. Surely nobody cares about those

 

It’s become my way of expressing myself and communicating that I’m not okay. It doesn’t help OTHER PEOPLE. Also a lot of my posts recently have been rather negative, and I don’t feel this will help others to feel positive or hopeful. I know some would say it’s ‘showing the reality of mental illness’… yes, I agree it does. But my blog has become a documentation of the deterioration of my mental health. I want to be a story of success and hope, like others. I want to be uplifting and tell others ‘Look, if I can beat this, so can you!’…

 

My experience of mental illness has been that people will talk to you, interact with you and include you, as long as you’re ‘getting better’. As soon as they see someone breaking down and getting worse, they distance themselves. They abandon you. They avoid talking to you. This is something I’ve witnessed among friends and acquaintances. Whilst I was being positive and talking of ‘kicking mental illness’ arse’, they’re there cheering you on… as soon as you say life sucks, things are getting worse, you don’t want to live anymore… they disappear. They’re silent. You’re alone. This is something I’m going to write about separately soon. But the fact I’ve experienced this in my own life, makes me concerned my blog is going off the rails.

 

  • Do people only support you as a blogger if you’re ‘on the up’?
  • Does the fall into negativity and despair send your readers running in the other direction?
  • Have you ever found your blog going in a different direction than originally intended?
  • And when reading mental health blogs, are you after information, are you after a hopeful recovery story, or are you after the raw, often painful reality of mental illness, that you can either learn from or identify with…? 

 

Feel free to chip in with your answers to any of those questions. I’m having an existential crisis with this blog at the moment! Not sure which direction to go in right now. I know there are things I want to write about – sometimes they’re overridden by personal rants, depending on what life throws at me. As much as this is my space, I want it to be useful to other people too and certainly don’t want to make people feel worse…. I’ll have to have a think about the future of this blog.

 

Do you have any thoughts? Let me know…

 

 

 

Poem: When The Darkness Takes You.

When The Darkness Takes You

 

When the darkness takes you, and you’re floating in eternal space,
The tunnel is no longer a tunnel, no eventual light,
Darkness came and robbed you of hopeful sight,
And everything is tinged with the blackness of a starless night…
When the darkness holds you, and you crumble in its embrace,
You cannot breathe, for the thick, poisonous, smog-like air,
The arms of darkness grip you and you’re a prisoner in its lair,
The loneliness strips you of hope, love and the capacity to care….
When the darkness pushes you to the most sinister place,
You speak often of destruction, of death and inflicting pain –
To others, as a whole world against you turns you insane;
To yourself, as you contemplate stepping in front of a train…
When the darkness stabs you and disappears without a trace,
A stealthy offender that the darkest shadows conceal,
A deep gaping wound which can’t be seen, but you certainly feel,
No witness to vouch that the pain you feel is real….
When the darkness swallows you, and it shows not on your face,
It consumes all hope you can recover, to see a better day,
In the hollow of its belly there’s not one flicker or a ray,
The last remaining specks of you have all been blown away…
When the darkness kills you, your soul it slowly will erase,
The light in your eyes will be snuffed out by gloom,
Your conscience turns off as you welcome your doom,
You bleed to death in your cold, desperate and lonely tomb.

When They Ask… Tell Them…

*Note: This is not a suicide note… just me expressing the hurt I feel*

 

 

When they look back one day, wondering where it all went wrong…. what more they could have done to help me… why I didn’t ask for help…. tell them this…..

 

The signs were there. They were always there. They just didn’t want to see them. They just didn’t know what to do with them. They didn’t want me dragging them down with me.

 

I asked for help too many times to count, ranging from hints to blazing great statements. The most I got was a ‘like’. This says ‘I hear you’. It does nothing to help. It seems the more you ask for help, the less likely people are to give it, as they think you’re attention-seeking. But I only asked so much because it was never given.

 

Eventually I stopped reaching out. This did not mean I didn’t need help. It meant I realised my friends would never be there for me. They would always ignore my pleas. It hurt less to stay quiet.

 

They could have saved me six months ago. I made a video. I blogged. I tried to tell them I was starting down a path I knew would kill me. They ignored me then, they ignore me now. Now I’m so far gone I’m not who I was six months ago. There’s not enough of me left that’s worth saving. This is their fault. They could have stopped it going this far. They didn’t. Now there’s no way back.

 

At the time my granddad got sick, I was split from my friends, because of Hannah and others. At the time he passed I was still not connected with people properly. When I did my charity run in memory of him, hardly anyone supported me. On anniversary dates nobody was there for me. When I was away somewhere totally alone, and an important date happened, I reached out, and was ignored.  Nobody is ever there for me when I really need them. They don’t care about me and they don’t respect me. This is what killed me.

 

The isolation I feel because of grief, and because of my illness, is something they could have done something about. They should have been there. They’d better not come to my funeral and cry, or act shocked and upset and talk about how much I meant to them. I doubt they would anyway, as clearly none of them feel that way about me. But if they can’t show it in life, don’t you dare pretend to care in death.

 

Where it went wrong…? Try 2012. Try Gill and Sam. Try Hannah. Try Joe. They destroyed the person I once was. Other contributors: bullies at school; all those who shut down my voice because of my different political views; all those who publicly humiliated me; therapy gone wrong & the handling of Matt; losing Grampa & not having support from friends, plus family falling apart because they hurt my family; all the times people ignored me and excluded me; the world forgot me.

 

What more could they have done…? They could have listened. They could have responded to me… acknowledged me…. cared about me. They could have treated me like they did everyone else. They could have shown me not only was I visible, but I actually mattered. They could have said sorry when they hurt me. They could have changed so as not to hurt me again. They could have put in more effort. They could have spent more time with me. They could have told me they loved me…. that they missed me…. that they appreciated me. They could have included me more. They could have told the world, or even just me, that they were lucky to have me as a friend. They could have fought harder for me when I pushed them away. They could have learnt about my illness and how to make things better between us. They could have noticed me.

 

Tell them:

I only ever wanted to belong somewhere. I only wanted to love and be loved. I only wanted to feel accepted. I wanted a friend. I wanted a life. I wanted what you all had. Or at least a chance for it.

 

Tell him:

I never saw you as ‘the awkward loser’ or a consolation prize. I just hadn’t had any experiences with men. I was too new to it all. I liked you. I felt a special connection with you. I wish you had told me you felt the same, instead of settling for her. Who knows where I’d be right now. Perhaps I’d have a life worth living. I’ll always resent the way you ended things between us. You hurt me.

 

Tell her:

You ruined my life. You took everything from me. I hate you with every fibre of my being. You don’t deserve what you got. I could have achieved so much, but you destroyed it all. For a friend you showed very little care for my wellbeing. You got all you wanted, at my expense. I’ve never recovered from your betrayal. You killed me.

 

Tell him:

You destroyed my faith in men. You broke my spirit. You never deserved my love.

 

Tell him:

I loved you. Though it made no sense. I never felt so strongly for someone as I did for you. I only wished to have the blessing of you in my life, in any capacity. My soul recognised a kind soul… a beautiful soul. It could never recover from losing you. The pain of loss will be with me beyond the grave. I miss you.

 

Tell her:

One day we were friends. Through thick and thin. She came back into our lives and you took her side. Things were never the same after that. I always doubted my place in your life.  I knew that your circumstances would make us drift apart. I wasn’t wrong. You have no time for me now. All that time I was ignored, nobody was there, you were only there once I disappeared. You asked if everything was okay, I told you it wasn’t – that I felt invisible and like nobody cared… that I should keep to myself – silence was your answer to that. I’m sorry that the loss of you upsets me. I have nothing now.

 

Tell them: 

I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasted so much of your time, and zapped you of your joy. I’m sorry I was a burden. I’m sorry I was so demanding, and needed your friendship, for lack of anything else good in my life. I’m sorry I didn’t have the luck and success you had. I’m sorry I couldn’t be someone you wanted to have as a friend. I’m sorry my life was over before it began.

 

Why didn’t I ask for help…? I did ask for help. I prayed for help. I screamed for help to the bitter end. I didn’t give up without a hell of a fight. I deteriorated over an extended amount of time, but more rapidly in the last six months. Gone is the woman with a kind heart, a friendly smile, and anything to add to the world. I was reduced to a girl barely holding on… defeated, scarred, screaming bloody murder and suicide from the loneliest pit of despair. The care for others has gone. Everything’s gone. No joy, no hope. No more pretending. So distant from everyone, they’re practically strangers now. Not one of them helped when they had the chance. They let me die. I called out to them. I asked them to stop the hijacker taking me. They didn’t. They thought I was talking bullshit. But one day they’ll know. They’ll know I needed their help and they let me down. They could have saved me, but they chose to let me die.

Online Abuse.

 

Online Abuse

 

*Self-harm trigger warning, very strong language and political discussion*

 

A few days ago I went through something I’m still trying to recover from, both psychologically and physically. I expressed my views on Boris and the burka business on Twitter, went out and when I came back I had 34 notifications – I didn’t know what for … I’d forgotten I’d even said anything at that point. As I scrolled through them I saw it was an endless stream of people disagreeing with what I said… saying I was talking nonsense, and attacking Boris. That doesn’t bother me. It initially made me feel bad for what I said, as I was being shown up for ‘being wrong’, and being ‘stupid’…. but eventually I got over that and thought, people are allowed to disagree, it doesn’t mean I’m wrong. Those people didn’t bother me. The ones who did were the ones who attacked ME. This post is about them.

 

I went into adrenaline mode, tweeted that I’d obviously triggered a lot of people with my opinions, and I’d better not read all the notifications or else I’d be cleaning up the mess for a long time – it triggered me. Surprisingly I managed to read them all without harming myself. My heart-rate went up a few times, as notifications came in and as I responded to a couple and got replies back, but I managed to calm myself down and not spin into a full-blown episode.

 

Unfortunately there was one person who affected me so badly I started shutting my account down, and another person who affected me even worse who made me self-harm on an epic scale. I have never punched a wall as violently as I did that day… only ever in my dreams. And I have several scars on my body to go with it. I’m still finding it hard to type or write with my right hand because of the pain. I still have flashbacks to that evening, and the roar of pain and desperation as I hit the wall and slashed at my skin. Thankfully nobody was in at the time, but I dread to think what the neighbours would’ve heard. I remember wanting to do to my right arm what I did to my leg, and had I done so I would’ve ended up in hospital. It also would’ve been the first time I’d harmed my right arm, and that would’ve been it for me… totally out of control. So I actually did a lot less damage to myself than I could have done and felt the need to do. I had to take two diazepam in the end as I was shaking so much, I was panicky, and I wanted to do more damage to myself. It saved me from doing something worse.

 

It’s a balance between me realising I do put myself in harm’s way by sharing my opinions online, so I have to protect my mental health from trolls and bullies. But also people need to stop being shitheads. They need to realise when they’re attacking people for different views, they’re not attacking ‘bots’ and ‘trolls’, they are attacking real human beings, with emotions. They’re not just attacking ideas and politics, they are attacking character, personality and a soul. They are attacking people who have various struggles in life. They do it to feel wonderful about themselves, to feel powerful and put others down, but some of us have a mental illness. This does not mean we’re not allowed an opinion. People should learn tolerance and respect, and how to talk to people without making them question whether they should continue living in this world. The next person they pick on may go a step further and end their life, and that would be on them. Could they live with that? I’d guess yes, because I don’t think these people have a conscience or morals. I don’t think they care about other people. They’d probably take joy in the fact I self-harmed… that the blood is on their hands. That’s the sort of sickos we have in this world right now. No compassion. Seeing everything as a competition… a game.

 

This is what happened….

 

Tosser (2)Tosser2 (2)

 

This was one response I had – it didn’t bother me that much, but it is one thing that pisses me off about the left – if you post something that they disagree with, they write you off as a ‘troll’ or a ‘bot’…. they dehumanise you… which is ironic really, as they are outraged that Boris’ comments ‘dehumanise’ Muslim women. They have no issue in doing the same to ordinary decent people, who just happen to have a different opinion to them. This person isn’t the only one to do it – it is becoming the go-to response of the left. It’s also ironic because they revealed the troll in themselves.

 

Wikipedia says: “In internet slang, a troll is a person who starts quarrels or upsets people on the internet to distract and sow discord by posting inflammatory and digressive, extraneous or off-topic messages in an online community with the intent of provoking readers into displaying responses and normalizing tangential discussion whether for the troll’s amusement or a specific gain.”

 

My comment was on my own account. For me to be considered a ‘troll’ I would have to have gone onto a tweet by this person, and responded with what I said with the intention of starting an argument. But I didn’t. All I did was express my own opinion on my own feed. People coming in and arguing with me, and trying to get a rise out of ME are the ‘trolls’. I had many people come in and talk about general ‘racism’… about Boris’ other gaffes… about Conservative Islamophobia… about all sorts – that’s going off on a tangent, i.e. a form of ‘trolling’… I simply stated that I think the shit-storm is a diversion tactic in order to discredit Boris, and prevent a leadership challenge. I was saying there’s more to this than ‘islamophobia’… How is that ‘trolling’?? It’s my tweet! I can’t troll myself!!

I felt I had to say something and challenge this ridiculous belief that a normal person cannot make a different point… that they must get a kick out of ‘being controversial’ or must be paid to do it. I wasn’t being controversial either, just stating an alternative point of view! But they had to go on and belittle me, implying I’m stupid or gullible. Says more about them than me. Vile little idiot.

 

twit2 (3)twit3 (3)twit (2)

 

This is Ivan. Ivan is a rude little man. He was obviously never taught as a child that ‘if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all’. Of course there will be people who disagree with what I said – I don’t actually care about that. I had loads of people express that to me. But they did so by saying they didn’t agree and then had a rant about Boris. They made it about him and the topic at hand. MOST of them didn’t make it about ME, and so eventually I got to a point I didn’t mind them arguing … I wasn’t responding to them anyway, so they were really only arguing with themselves!

Ivan however chose to say my tweet was ‘stupid’. That is to say that the person who wrote it was stupid. It’s offensive. And I have a right to stand up for myself against offensive old men. He talks of the irony of me criticising others for being rude whilst defending the rudest man in British politics – but that’s ironic too… because he’s only ‘the rudest man in British politics’ in HIS OPINION. What these people on the left fail to grasp is that their views are only opinions, and are no better than the opinions of those on the right. They believe everything they think and say is a FACT. I do not believe that Boris is the rudest man in British politics, therefore standing up to the fact that Ivan was rude to ME holds no irony whatsoever.

 

Two people chipped in to this conversation, to defend their ‘comrade’:

 

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This was one of them. He(??) didn’t like that I was defending myself and teaching a rude man about respect, and he couldn’t find anything particularly offensive that I had said, so he created an offence by picking out a set of words – ‘people like you’ – and being offended by it. Two things come to mind when I think of this… firstly, he’s trying to ‘put me in my place’ – bring me down to their level… to try and paint me as disrespectful also, despite the fact I was simply standing up for myself. Secondly though he showed that his side of the argument are a bunch of sissies. I had the same from that American Democrat a few months back… she was offended by the words ‘the likes of you’. Snowflake alert! Both ‘the likes of you’ and ‘people like you’ are concepts … I know the left struggle with concepts. It’s a term to denote a group of people… it says ‘you and others who share similar beliefs as you’. I’m always saying ‘people like me / the likes of me’ and I don’t get upset about it, because it’s not an insult. It’s a way of saying ‘not only me but people similar to me’. It’s not offensive and by claiming to find it offensive, with the intention of making me sound like a ‘meanie’, they have only shown themselves to be cry-babies. This is why the average person cannot take the far-left whiners seriously anymore. They are afraid of every word in the English language…. Oh God, I said ‘English’… how ‘racist’ of me…..

 

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This was another. This is ‘Mouse’. I shall be coming on to ‘Mouse’ in great depth soon…..

 

Anyway, back to Ivan…. oh yes…. I told him I had opinions of him too, but decided I’d model respectful behaviour and not tell him what they were. What I actually think of him is he’s a nasty, vindictive, hypocritical prick. But I instead said we’d leave it there and wished him a good day. His response was to block me.

A bit later he unblocked me. I found this suspicious so blocked him. I was worried he was coming back for round two. That he wanted to abuse me further. And I was right. Luckily I blocked him just in time. He wanted to stick the knife in further….

 

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He posted this on his timeline for his 13 thousand followers to see. Oh, and then he blocked me again, as I discovered upon unblocking him to report him. So what a fucking coward. But don’t worry, I can see everything these cowards say about me by logging out. Can’t get away with anything sunshine, and I did report him anyway. I now realise you can report people even when they’re blocked, which is good.

This ‘man’ was the final nail in the coffin for me and made me start closing down my account. I possibly will still close it. But I’m looking at all options first, for how to keep safe. I feel he put me in danger because the left are unhinged. They are also uninhibited. They see no issue with targeting people, harassing people, demonising them, hounding them, defaming them, and with the paranoia I already feel with my mental illness at the moment, I could do without feeling unsafe on Twitter.

A part of me wants to stay and stand up against bullies like him. I want to challenge what he has said…. I will start by doing that here…. He said ‘she thinks she can swear’ – where exactly did I swear at this man? Point it out to me. I did not swear at him. I would never swear at someone in a conversation with them. If he is referring to ‘FFS’ then get a fucking grip man! It’s abbreviated and an expression of exasperation! He clearly is 70 years old then, as indicated by the number in his handle, and he’s trying to write me off as a ‘disrespectful young person’ – well fuck him. I have more respect for old people than all of his lot put together. His lot wish old people would die so they get the result they want. I actually prefer older people.  I identify more with their way of thinking than the young people of today. But if an old person is disrespectful, offensive or rude to me, they do not deserve my respect. I did not swear at him. Okay after seeing everyone having a pop at me I wrote a separate tweet on my own feed, saying I should keep my fucking mouth shut then, and I did say ‘fucking dicks’ (please excuse my language here) – I was in an ‘episode’. I was feeling every emotion under the sun and felt silenced. I felt attacked by these evil lefties, and I hated them for being unable to keep their mouths shut when they disagree with something! It wasn’t an attack on him. And he’s painting it wrongly.

He also says about me saying people ‘have a screw loose’ – oh, shock horror, how dreadful of me to say – I could have said you’re a bunch of narcissistic ‘C’ words…. but oh my God I said they have ‘a screw loose’…. damn it…. they think all their screws are tightly fixed in place… bless them and their perfect self-image. But take a look at this:

 

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He takes no issue in repeating it back at me…. saying that ‘if anyone has a screw loose it’s those people who think he should be allowed anywhere near the levers of power’. So he blasts me for saying that, but he also said it. Yes, off the back of what I said. But he still insisted that people on my side of the argument are the ones with the screw loose. He just doesn’t like the implication that people on his side of the debate are less than perfect.

He also said ‘you mustn’t dare call her tweets out for being “stupid”, even though some of them plainly are’…. twat face. He might think some of my tweets are plainly stupid. I think he himself is plainly stupid. But gosh, I wouldn’t be allowed to say that would I, as I’m not a raging lefty! So anything I say to the left is ‘offensive’. ‘FFS’…. hehe.

 

He called me a hypocrite. Now I’m going to demonstrate why HE is a hypocrite…… take a look at these tweets later on:

 

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In the first one he talks about ‘smears’…. yet he happily smeared me to his followers. In both tweets you can see his own offensive manner, about ‘shoving things up your arse’, and calling TM thick. But most importantly in the second tweet he says that kicking Boris out of the Tory party would diffuse the row over islamophobia… ‘but it would also prevent him from mounting a leadership challenge against her’…… What a fucking hypocrite…. he attacked my tweet as ‘stupid’ when it was expressing exactly that sentiment. It may not have been worded that way, but it was saying that people are getting all up in arms about Boris, and Theresa May is in on it, to discredit Boris and stop him challenging her as leader. That’s what I was saying. And he said it himself. He attacked me as stupid for thinking the same stupid thing as him! What a fucking hypocritical moron. And with that, I’m done with him.

 

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And then came ‘Mouse’. I don’t know what Mouse is, so will refer to them as ‘it’ or ‘them’. Too cowardly to be themselves, they hide behind a fake name and image. Having endured enough shit from people, I blocked them after they joined in my conversation with someone else… this is what they said….

 

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It’s funny really how one person replying to one other person constitutes a ‘racist little echo chamber’… mate it’s called a fucking conversation, and you weren’t invited. This person, or rather this mouse, is your typical far-left Labour supporter – momentum, ‘anti-fascist’ type. And they are deranged. They see everything as racism. They will make a packet of crisps be about racism. They’re fucked in the head. Anyway, ‘it’ said that if it’s about an item of clothing then ‘what right do you have to tell someone what they can or cannot wear. Grow a brain’ … I think the one lacking anything resembling a brain is this little mouse. You see, at no point whatsoever have I said what people should or should not wear. Funnily enough neither did Boris! They’d know that if they’d fucking read the article. They’d know that he doesn’t support banning it. That women should be free to CHOOSE to wear it… as long as they are actually choosing of their own accord. I never mentioned that they shouldn’t wear it. I just said in response to people saying what Boris said is racist, that it wasn’t about the people – it was about the clothes, and if you can’t even make an observation or criticise clothes, then this world is fucked. Are we regressing? Are we heading to a place where we cannot use the English language anymore for fear of offending people? These ‘people’ do my head in. They need help.

So I have something to say to that second tweet that Mouse wrote…. it is directed at the Muslim community, because that is what was discussed. I think that Mouse has actually shown more racism in that tweet than I ever have – because what they are saying is that Muslim’s are of a certain race. That Jews and Christians are ‘white’, and that’s why they are not being criticised. This is utter bullshit. There are people of all races who follow the religions of Judaism and Christianity, the same with Islam. Mouse is stereotyping, and saying that white people are Christians and Jews, and ‘the brown people’ are Muslims. This is wrong, and in effect is a form of racism. It’s funny that they call me a racist with no evidence of that whatsoever. Yet they display their own views on race and religion and show they are less than pure in their views. Islam is not a race. It is a religion. Any religion should be allowed to be questioned. Mouse just wants to shut down discussion, and create villains out of people, so labels them ‘racist’. This feeds its ego. That’s all this is about.

 

Anyway I decided I didn’t have the spiritual energy to put up with all this nonsense, so I blocked it. Now, at the time I was not aware of the barrage of tweets I received from it. I only saw them later when I had invisible comments on replies to people, so I figured it was a blocked account, so logged out, searched for my posts and saw Mouse had tweeted loads of abuse. I believed at the time it was done after blocking them, but I now admit I was wrong. It all occurred before the block, in a 20 minute window or so. It was still a lot to take… being mistaken about the block doesn’t take away the distress I experienced just from what they were saying, regardless of when they said it. So I will start by sharing things that were said before the block, which Twitter didn’t make me aware of – despite all the numerous notifications I kept getting….

 

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Just because you disagree with it, doesn’t make it ‘wrong’. Something you could all do with learning.

 

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Actually I don’t have much to say about this one…. speaks for itself.

 

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So Mouse went a step further than Ivan and called ME stupid. They clearly demonstrated exactly what their lot are like. When challenged on bad behaviour they don’t apologise or back down, they behave even worse. Pack behaviour. And the whole ‘if you don’t want to be accused of posting stupid stuff, then don’t be stupid’… missing the point entirely that it is only stupid in the opinion of weirdos like you. I got more likes for my tweets than I got negative comments. So there you go. Just your opinion and a fucking lousy one at that… but that’s just my opinion of course.

 

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Okay, this makes no sense at all. How does this tweet mean that I am also a racist? I fail to see the link. All I said in my tweet is that those who replied to me have proven that they dislike Boris for reasons other than his comments on the burka. And that anything he does is wrong in their eyes…. because he’s a Conservative…. because he’s not afraid to be honest…. because the left hate the right. Saying that it’s not just about a burka, and that people have proven that, has no link at all to racism – this person is obsessed with racism and needs to be locked in a safe place, until they recover from this obsession… until they break the addiction to the word, and to the hatred behind their words.

They just became obsessed with my tweets and probably enraged that I didn’t bite, and talk to them on any of them. They hounded me until I blocked them (which in my own mind was after only two tweets, as Twitter didn’t alert me to the string of other ones at the time! But what I noticed afterwards, looking at this little mouse’s profile… they like picking argument after argument with people… and they like making people block them, and sharing screenshots of the block whilst mocking the person – I’m not the first, and I won’t be the last. It’s just an ego wank. Sad, pathetic, lonely little narcissist with nothing better to do with their time than harass people and use them as a means to bolster their own image as the stronger/better person. Dude, you commented on tweets at least eight times, and I didn’t respond to any of them… because you’re not worth the time to talk to. I could see you for what you were straight away – you’re an unreasonable person and it would be a waste of time saying anything to you, as you already cast me in the ‘racist’ role probably long before I posted my tweets…. you woke up in the morning and thought, ‘I wonder who will be my ‘racist of the day’ today’. And I was the lucky person you selected. It takes more strength to stay quiet when someone is trying to provoke you, than to bite back and give them more ammunition. Some bullies are best to be ignored, and eventually they’ll get bored and walk away. Not all, but ones like this aren’t worth lowering yourself for.

 

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This one didn’t bother me, as it’s a fair question. But my fair answer would be that actually there are people on both sides of the argument – including Muslims. As much as some say it IS islamophobia there ARE others who say it is not. So would you ignore them?? I know that your side of the debate don’t listen to reason…. you’d fly off the handle at this suggestion, but it’s a fact. Not everyone thinks the same as you. And that’s okay. I get it. You think you’re fighting the good fight…. but there are some who would be grateful Boris said what he did, and wish he’d go further and suggest the banning of the burka. I don’t care if that happens or not. I’m just being objective about the situation. It’s not one-sided. There are women in other countries taking them off in protest, not wanting to wear it – they do not want you defending it… they would want people to help them in their bid to be free of it. Don’t say it’s a lie, just because you know some are offended. I’m simply stating the truth that people feel differently about it, and that is okay.

 

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What a troll. This demented little turd obviously has so much rage inside that anything I tweeted enraged them, making them tell me to delete my account. When I read ‘delete your account’, in my head my response to it was ‘delete your life’. What gives this jumped up little piece of shit the right to tell me what to do? This is what they want. They want to silence an opposing voice. They want to shut me down. They want to shut us all down, one by one, until the only voice that remains is theirs, and then they can live out their little dictatorship fantasy…. their cult fantasy, where we all think the same. No chance mate. You may bully us into silence, bully us off of Twitter, but you will NEVER be the majority voice. But you enjoy your sad little lefty echo chamber once you’ve bullied all the decent people off social media.

 

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And then I blocked them. And they did this. They told their followers that I’m a racist, with my photo next to it, making me feel like a target in the outside world as well as online. Cheers bastard. I’m still waiting for you to take it down. I reported both you and Ivan, and Ivan was found to be guilty of abusive behaviour and removed all his tweets about me, at least earning some respect from me, and you have been found guilty of hateful conduct. So I’d remove this post if I were you, as it’s the one that puts you at risk of further action from me if you don’t. You are defaming me.

You say ‘Some advice Lily, if you’re being called racist, perhaps it’s because you are’ – this is seriously bent logic. YOU were the one who radically decided I was a racist, despite me posting no racist material at all. If I was being called a racist by lots of different people then your comment, whilst still not true, would at least make a little sense. But you call me a racist, and then say if I’m being called it then perhaps it’s because I am one… that’s like saying ‘my opinion of you is fact’. You’re delusional and seriously sick – seek help. Let’s follow that logic…. I could equally say to someone like yourself that you’re a paedophile… with no evidence that you are…. you would question that, and my answer would be ‘Some advice, if you’re being called a paedophile, perhaps it’s because you are one’….. do you see the issue with this? Just because I’d think it so, does not make it true. So surely you must accept that just because you labelled me as racist, it does not mean I am. If we can all go around deciding who is what, and the logic is that you are that, ‘because I say so’, then what an ugly world we’d live in. You’re contributing to that ugliness.

But if I had applied the ‘paedophile’ logic to you, you would sue me for defamation, particularly if I had put a picture of your real face next to my accusation. This is no less damaging. So remove it, or have it removed and face action. Your choice.

 

Mouse is a wannabe… they follow all things Labour, socialist, ‘anti-fascist’ and Momentum. This thing needs no more summing up than that. That tells us all we need to know. That’s why they don’t bother me that much… I’m happy to let them continue down their sad little path of destruction, but leave my face out of it, you nasty piece of work. These sorts of people cannot be helped. They’re lost souls.

 

Moral of the story is I know who I am. I know what I am and what I am not. I know that these people have a sickness that makes them see ‘racism’ where it doesn’t exist. Calling people ‘racist’ seems to be a cathartic experience for them. It makes them feel better about themselves. I think being deemed a racist by one of THEM is a sign I’m doing okay in life. As much as it’s caused me distress and I don’t want it to happen, I have to remember that I am on the right side of history.

 

Many people like me have been branded as racists, and blocked by far-left people. It means nothing. After the abuse I got, and the viciousness of people disagreeing with my opinion, and returning to my ‘echo chamber’ of like-minded people (just like the left do), I felt at home. I felt safe and centred. I felt sane. If I have to be wrongly given the racist title, a fascist title or whatever else they concoct to try to appear to be better people, then so be it. I would rather be called a racist and yet be among a group of good people, polite, peaceful, tolerant, quiet, respectful people, than to mingle with those on the opposite side, who are everything bad about the world – they are intolerant, violent, rude, nasty, narcissistic, sociopathic bullies who have no respect for other people, for their opinions and for freedom of speech. They also have no respect for the truth. They make up reality. No wonder they’re in such turmoil all the time, and have to lash out at people, because they are suffering with delusions, and not seeing things as they truly are. I have to pity them. I know I’m on the right side, talking to people on the right (not FAR-right as indicated by people like Owen Jones – to whom everybody who isn’t far-left like him, is far-right) – we seem more rooted in reality, more peaceful, open-minded and tolerant of different views. I see nothing wrong with not being on the left. There is nothing wrong with being on the right. The only people who paint a picture of the right being dangerous, violent racist thugs, are those on the far-left who are dangerous violent fascist thugs. So if you’re moderate right-wing be proud. Don’t let the bullies silence you. Know who you are and what you believe in, and maintain the high-ground. When compared to those like Mouse and the far-left, we are the better people. That is why they have to fling insults and accusations at us, and smear us…. because they know we’re better people. Bullies always pick on the good ones, and those they deem to be ‘weak’. But we are not weak. We are the strongest fuckers on the planet. We’ve had to put up with their shit for the last three years at least. And we’ve generally maintained our dignity through it all. Silent persistence and ignoring their histrionics is the way forward.

Need Validation.

I’m in the process of blogging about yesterday… it’ll take some time though. But I’m struggling to feel better about it. I feel a major part of this is the lack of validation. I’ve heard many with BPD talk about the importance of validation. I need to hear that people have my back. That they saw what people were doing and saying, and that it was wrong. That they can understand why I’m so upset.

 

Don’t get me wrong… people have been supportive, but it’s been more a ‘chin up’ kind of tone. Like a ‘don’t let them get to you’… ‘people will be people’ kind of thing. It makes it feel like nobody’s on my side, which makes me think I was in the wrong. That it was my fault and that everyone thinks that. That I deserved it. That I overreacted. That they’re all judging me now.

 

I’m finding this really difficult to cope with on top of what happened, and the pain I’m in. I need people to understand that this is particularly hard for me at the moment, as I don’t have friends for support. It’s been a week since I told my closest friend I’m really not okay at the moment, that I feel invisible and like nobody cares…. and all I’ve had is silence. That’s really hard for me. And please nobody say that ‘I’m sure it’s nothing personal, they probably have a lot on’ – yes, I know they do. I don’t need rational thought and challenging my thoughts right now. I need validation. I need people to say they hear me, they understand my emotions and that it makes sense I feel that way… no ifs and no buts…. but there’s nothing like that in my life right now.

 

Even my family know something went on yesterday, and I had a breakdown. They don’t know the details or how I feel. So please understand I’m alone with this. So it’s not just a case of ‘getting over it’. I can’t just forget it. I can’t pretend it didn’t happen. It feels like people are minimising it. And that only worsens the pain I feel.

 

I know maybe people don’t know exactly what went on… they might understand more when I’ve finished my next post. But sometimes you just need someone to tell you that you were in the right, and they were in the wrong, and that you handled it the best you could. I don’t feel that right now.