..dear reader..

Every time I arrive somewhere or fought to leave a location, it has been through the hope that I could find somewhere where I felt I had never been before but in agonuy, drugged, terrisfied or just not me.  Hoping that I could find somewhere without that crippyling oppressive atmosphere.  It gave me a sense of worth.  It was a horrible feeling that hit me everywhere I am sometimes.  A strange painful sense that I've been here before even if the images, flashes of body memories and the like seemed to be about something positive.  It couldn't of been me because I couldn't laugh like that.  Mostly though pains where sharp and the memories increasingly sequencial.  I never knew if I was reacting to the place where I was, the place I had been or the places I was going.  There was a group when I lived in Aberdeenshire ran mainly by young Scottish men and women in their early twenties and thirties from families who were known to have cr...

Wish my psychiatrist knew a bit more about Ritualic and Satanic Abuse. I was talking about nightmares and how May the 1st was an important day in the calender and she asked me if I was a practising Satanist (because people have the right to practise whatever they choose).  The look on my face answered her question.  I started talking about how I have heard there is 'satanists' who aren't into killing babies and eating shit but I trailed of and said I believed in healing and would like to get more into  meditation.  I said that I didn't know what my parents believed during the abuse in terms of their alters/drugged up/disassociated states or whatever but outside of it they're both staunch atheists.  I've always found it a bit stifling.  Sure a share a healthy disrespect for organised religions but to rule out all spiritualism, all sense of being part of something bigger, of a connection and wonder in regards to everything and everyone, not for me....

Cleaned the kitchen today and the hall, did a puzzle with wee man.  Starting to think about how much I could enjoy living in a clean prettier house, buy flowers, lavender oil for my burner with the cute witch and her pussy cat.  Chill out in my room reading and writing in the evenings instead of curled up under a blanket in front of rolling news, eating too much, chain smoking and feeling used and abandoned.  Starting to not feel guilty about DLA, I know its stupid but that feeling that just because working makes me ill doesn't mean I don't have to is difficult to shift.  So used to being forced, to my interests, needs, health being of no consequence.  Goddam Cameron and his working = 'doing the right thing' doesn't help, why to I even hear it?  Partly because I made the conscious decision to go against all the wrongness of Satanism and State corruption and criminality to respect people and society.  Which is fine but res...

She's wasn't guttered this morning, but she was high, singing, and being a bit vague.  It's driving my mum mental, coming home from seeing her dad dieing in hospital to a drunken daughter and a messy house.  The wee ones free to roam about.  Mum kept making little digs, about money, about broken specs.  She doesn't know what to do, me neither.  When mum was at the hospital I didn't try and talk any sense into Alkysis or anything, just listened.  It's pointless, she was talking about not moving with my mum, how she was going to sort the landlord out.  How she loved looking after my son with her own two.  She hadn't told my mum about not moving with her of course.  She seems very deeply in denial about everything, I don't think giving her my abuse books will help.  I can't see her managing well on her own, in fact it scares the shit out of me.  We've been there before, traumatised kids, Psychosis phoned her once and wee spider m...

I light a candle (never white), pour more wine, roll another ciggy. Pray to my plants, tune in to an old friend/lover/pimp/abuser/Savior coz he's familiar and plays soul.  Ask a text friend for a hug, and shudder when a flesh one reaches for me, shes not to be trusted.  It's getting dark.  I wonder about more food, more drink, some drugs, but I'd never leave my sleeping son, I'm not really hungry and my supplier doesn't supply anymore.  The dreams were easier last night, I went to sleep thinking I could start a time line, not today, there is never a good day to remember, to exercise, to eat less, to stop smoking.  Certainly not today, maybe its an excuse.  Like my sisters.  My mum came home from the hospital after two hours sleep waiting for her father to die to hungry infants and a mess.  But at least I talk, at least I have the balls to remember some of it, to prance and curl in drama, and pay and pay to travel across this a...