..dear reader..

I have chocolate, some tasty French red and Lower rate DLA, which has put up my income support, which means clothes are being bought, Ladybird clothing - the best as far as I was concered when I was a kid - because I liked ladybirds. Always fascinated by gender bending, how could something called a 'ladybird' possibly be a boy? Anyway, I'm gonna buy tickets to see 'Mary Queen of Scots Got Her Head Chopped Off' with G. I love to see most things that are on, but after reading the play for school I have always wanted to see it. I remember the way Scots is used to explore universal themes as being fucking awesome. Liz Lochhead seemed to condense all the wisdom of Scottish women in a way the humbled and inspired me, her understanding of history, gender, war was formidable. As far as I remember I hope I don't end up siting there without a bloody clue and if G feels that way then fine, it will equal out how I'm going to feel all the way through 'Smurfs 3D...

I wish I wasn't but it part of the healing I hope, so I will grow out of it. I need the time to focus on me, to figure out what I need, what I need to be without. It's not as simple as it once was, when all my energy went into getting out of what ever situation, relationship that was hurting me the most. Life becomes easy when your life is in danger, my vision literally, became tunneled, my whole brain focused on finding the door, the words, the acts of violence or the movement of money that would get me away from wherever I was. There was no need for consciousness it all happened by it's self. These days my priorities are different. I have to do housework, get the shopping in, bring up my son, do the bastard ironing. It's all so much harder than run, fight or switch. People mean something, everything means something. In survivor mode everything and everyone is a tool to aid escape or not worth bothering about. I balanced every carefully up, did the best I c...

Tears, this week. Last week we focused on a young man with huge absent father issues (I got to be him). The week before, a really quiet bloke got madly shouted at when he played the role of Smily who played her own mother. She got right into it. It was one of the powerfullest things I've ever seen or heard. She seemed so controlled, the way she poured out that vile. I have only missed one week so far, very good attendance record for me. It's getting close though and I'm terrified of the thought of losing control. Kneeling on the floor, imploring Smily, who was again playing the mother, but in this time for Griny who was dealing with her mother's detachment. I was the child again, asking for recognition, for respect, love, attention, anything from the parent. First for the young lad and his dad then for Griny yesterday and her mother. It's amazing really, makes me feel all hippyish. Its not easy to feel comfortable with your hippy side when I spent years of ...

I think I'm moving on from feeling a sharp pang of jealous isolated pain when I read about abusers not having a choice but to have no contact with their abusers. It hasdn't worked out that way for me. My abusers were family, all of them, my community, my school teacher, my friends, everyone I knew basically. There was so many networks some used all of us, some didnt. People pic an mix. Meeting new people was so hard, they would be forced into the abuse as well usually the sort that used options, like 'do this to them or we will do that'. Nowadays I am too crippled with socialising problems, post tramatic stress symptoms, trust issues and general bad health to get out there much. There is no point wishing my life away. In some little way I believe there is more to me valuing the support I get currently from my mother and my relationships with my sisters that is more than resignation to situations outside my control. It has helped me see them as victims too, hel...

      Taking survivors' accounts seriously can help us decide whether lives     such as they describe could conceivably have been lived. Sarah Scott,      Beyond Disbelief: The politics and experience of ritual abuse (2001)     p.66.                          No cloaks here.       But April snow pelts the jogger in shorts and the granite memorial in a one pub         two cemetery North East village. The nerves of another wisdom lost to grinding won't give up. I am not buried.       but was a soldier as a child flat chested, armed, sewing the heather with wire         eating out of tins and counting everything twice until the November     when my peers took me back to the burn         where I shared my plans to show me theirs.                                 Stones         and cold Angus waters. One girl can hold so much.     Like our old white hen dead beneath the hen hut; no more clucking         amongst the common reds. The air was turning green ...

Even the government thinks so. Not that I agree with them much. My GP told me about someone who was recently failed for DLA, so asthmatic he could barely walk up the corridor. I guess sometimes the taboo nature of bad mental health can bring positive things as well as being a major factor in what keeps some people ill. Have joined Triberr which I am very grateful for, @Prozacblogger and everyone else who has made me feel a bit less isolated even if I it makes me feel like I'm being touched. Realising this is pretty important, that I shut down at any sort of touching, emotional or otherwise. Thanks to G for the hugs that have helped me realise this to. Doctor on Wednesday morning, no word from any psychiatrist so need to chase it up and start getting real with her. I self medicate, I'm sure I've told her this. The current prescribed meds are either not working or making things worse. I've already cut down on them. I want another specialist and I want to kno...

How can you not get into music? How could I turn down any oppurtunity to defend my self? The police showed me a tape. It showed a bloke touching me and then me beating him. The bloke was missing. They thought I had agreed to it all. I didn't. What was I supposed to do? I forgive myself for being an agent in my own exploitation but this does not mean I accept that it will continue. I wish I could tell you about the music, some of it was beautiful and it was mine. I made it. I knew what all the levels and dials did. I didnt need to disassociate. I was always disassociated.

... with G. Goodnight despite the state I've been in recently, too much traveling to get dangerously drunk and Dolly was lovely. What a figure man.. G was intersting, lovely at times but when I txted her to ask if it was a date she replied 'lol, dates and relationships freak me out' I didnt like this, espically at first but I understand I am in no position to criticise anyone one else for immaturity! Wasnt sure about her wanting lots of hugs though. I was bound to be a bit uncomfrotable with physical contact with the amount of anxiety I've been feeling. It's been horrid, really horrid at times. Really sliding into dysfunction which made my guilt ridden before I had the wee man who is currently next doors watching 'Dispicable Me' with a bowl of ham, raisins and cheese. I have some cooncil rocky, which is; apparently, shit loads better than nothing as I'm blogging this and not under the duvet or pacing from room to room. GP this week, this isnt wo...

Well, my friend drop by and left a little 'friend' so I'm no longer thinking of sticking pins in the eyes of radio one Djs or fire bombing the exgirldfriends of lovers that drank my blood. Theres fuck all mysterious or supernatural about being scared of people who drank your blood. Its a fucking awful thing to do to another human being. To take the life force of someone else inside you without their permission. And thats without thinking about how they obtained said blood. Lots of believes about freedom coming from literaly destroying boundries. It doesnt destroy dualism only strenthens it. I wish I could say more. But this is primary an outlet for me, although I have a lot of time for people who have missions to educate and enlighten about abuse thats not where I am. I am all about me, this is all about me, waiting and doing my best to believe that its not going to happen again. I dont need to be split anymore, its ok to look down. All thats there is belly fat an...

Just read a piece that says cannabis can help with aspergers tics. Although its been suggested I have it, its never been diagnosed but without cannabis I struggle. I rock, dig my nails in my fingers and bit my hand sometimes. Of course all that could just be my body feeling stressed because something it is used to having isn't there any more. I smoke because it stops me feeling like a victim, I can write essays, poetry when I have a smoke, without it everything feels like walking in deep dry sand. Of course it makes me feels weak relying so heavily on something that is illegal, that makes the very people who worked me more money but it has been my best friend for a long time now. A friend I over use at times, that is sometimes too strong, or polluted but it makes me feel alive and gives me hope. 4 times today I have read the opening lines to Charles Dickens hard times and then put it down again. Smoking endless roll ups and doing my asthma no favours. One thing I'm sure...

I am studying philosophy to help my brain, its not a matter of trying to return to previous understandings its about making new understandings, new ways of seeing. The old ones couldn’t of been that good anyway. But all the memories brought back about the circumstances in my life and my flesh that were going on all the other occasions I read or tried to read the same old texts. I argued against them well once do I need to do it again? Is studying just a form of selfharm by constanting picking at mental and emotional stabs looking for the perfect skin that was once there. The 2:1 is precious though. There must be some mistake! I can feel it seeping into to be and making me feel less of a loser, good news. Couldn't of done it without Marge Piercy and my delusional pespective that reads Women on the Edge of Time as laden with historical and biographical fact. The same word in our notes 'bizzare behaviour' and the burning hot sense of humour. Exam coming up, oh dea...

Cant get any page views for 'Song' - its beautiful people! bloody philistines. Only joking of course, LisatheRiver put a link up to it and every second someone spends on here means a lot. Its a difficult issue - how do you make ritual abuse palatable? Or least palatable enough to be taken seriously and given any thought at all.. I know I can't do the hours I need to do this now to be a 'writer'. I am the proud recipient of a wee bit disability money. Very proud recipient. He's 4 now, ordered new clothes and wellies for us both. Cant wait to see him in the rain in his new raincoat and fireman wellies - he will stand out for sure on any grey day :) Couldn't believe how easy it was to publish from word, what a dough ball I am. Might use it more often makes for prettier pages. Anyhow, cheers to an extra £200 a month, to a growing boy in new clothes and a mum who has eventually come to terms with her body enough to buy the size 14... aplogiese t...

       ...taking survivors' accounts seriously can help us decide whether lives such as they describe could conceivably have been lived.   Sarah Scott (2001) p.66.            Song. For the unregistered.                    No cloaks here.       Just April snow shrouding the bare legged jogger and the granite memorial in a one pub         two cemetery, North East village the nerves of another wisdom split by years of grinding     pulse on.                  I am not buried.       but was a soldier as a kid, flat chested, and initiated sewing heather with wire, casing the boothies     lying in the lichen eating out of tins         and counting everything twice. Until my sister's birthday             when they took me back to the burn         where I shared my plans to show me theirs.          Air turning green when game keepers debriefed.     Open sky and birdsong drown out their death.          I choose the kennel and further resented Ernest  ...

I am depserate to write about the way the organisations worked and the sort of people who were in them. I dream about really getting down to all the little differences between people socially and how they were translated into acts of violence in both structured and spontanous situations. But I'm scared, I have no criminal record and there are no records of me giving statements or working with the police in any way. Not that I can access anyway, at the moment. I watch the news, waiting. Waiting for something that might bring about a breakthrough. I'm more stable now, I have a voice I'm not scared of the press. But there was a lot of very public, influencial people involved as well as drug or arms lords and gang leaders. I'm scared of the positions the hold within the public consciousness. I'm not even sure if I have the right to challange the common culture like that.