November 28, 2013

Take Care

....I completely understand.  I hope you are well again soon. Please keep in touch if you want to.  Take good care of yourself...

Thanks SuperShrink.  Neither the first nor the last time a sense of being able to talk at length about a lot of ongoing stuff instead of going vague one day is is followed by waking up on the appointment day and cancelling everything without regrets. Drama therapy started again yesterday.  It didn't go well.  Its over a year of talking to a psychologist who has DID experience and is open to researching and listening to some talk about ritual abuse, the drama stopped back in June lots has happened since then.  There had been graphic repetitive nightmares in the few hours sleep I did get, reached out to L who was the center of so much of it all.  She was the base that torture and experiments to try and create parts that were tailored for their needs, EPS trapped in states of total mental subjugation and dislocation from our flesh and the world around them, unconscious programs to abuse others, gang and cult parts, littles, parts with particular mental disabilities, abilities, and on and on.  There's not much left of the dream, something about being completely distraught about breaking someones foot, verbal from ring member faces that made me even more terrified and ashamed, an image of a white smooth object that is supposed be the broken foot but doesn't really seem to me.  Trying to figure out what it is just gives me white sheets in morgues and same message about Savile trying to get me accept hurting people by practicing on corpses.  I said I could pretend I was practicing to be a doctor, he said ok but got bored of letting me do that pretty quick.  

So how much did we blog about Watkins?  It's the shame that's wondering, shame that he got away with it for so long because by abusing her or involving her in the abuse meant he wouldn't be touched.  The ANP is very aware of some of the main parts that are being triggered and are making a safe place for them as best we can, its the same parts we needed to work with anyway. The parts that are most in need of help is L of course, it was her job to hold all the littles to be used for abuse.  She was supposed be the real 'me' according to much of the external world.  She's expecting a knock at the door and to be arrested for abusing children with Watkins by the same officers who part of it all and then to be talked about like the other women involved are being talked about. 'If I have you. I'll have your baby' and words to those effect and in different languages, we heard them repeatedly from the early 90's.  More like the well used recycled script in a huge lines of filmed stuff I've heard it that often.  We detested our flesh for being present in our mind and in footage while beautiful wee bairns were hurt like that, over and over.  We are getting through though to her, there is no shortage of other parts that will help her with the little ones so she has time and space to realise she still exists even though we still have contact with our family and live isolated in Scotland, life is paradise compared to what it was.

Took a little while to get out of victim mode and back to the present on waking.  We were struggling but functioning until drama therapist - lets call her Daisy, started talking about growth, new beginnings and asked us to go into twos to discuss how 'a tree' can represent this.  We had to be a little ball of mess in the corner for a little while after that, horribly split, physical having to hold my hands together so the other half of my brain knows the other half is there.  Littles in my thumbs and corners of my mouth whispering to each other. It didn't last long before we got through it but we suspects that thinking it all wasn't too obvious and weird was like telling yourself your subtle when drunk, done to avoid adding anxiety to the situation not because its true. When she came over to talk to said she didn't know this would trigger me which is always a fucking stupid thing to say to an RA survivor, of course she didn't know and if she did she would hardly be admitting it.  Wouldn't say the therapist is dismissive exactly but during the one to one session she did say she had read the file when we started to say what was going on as if there wasn't any point in me saying anything else.  Hate those feelings that we talk 'in the wrong way' about it by repeating ourselves or whatever.  Some suspicion that she just doesn't believe that much of it happened.  Like she was surprised to see me flailing so badly. Never reacted to so badly with the previous drama therapists, their instincts towards us always seemed really good and held us together even when they were completely out of their depth.  Better to miss drama because of a heavy talking sesh than the other way round, especially when struggling to bond with the drama woman on any level.

Everyone is terrified L will still step forward if we were in great risk because she thinks its her job to just take it.  She saved a lot of us so much agony but she is trained to hate any violence she commits herself as worse than anything that is done to her, she had to accept she doesn't matter like other people do.  She knows there is no point in running and can't was heavily programmed to believe she is too weak to defend herself, to freeze and not fight.  She won't ask for help from other parts because that's what the abusers do and doesn't think any of us would want to or be strong enough to help her anyway.  She talked though and let her littles talk or play and comforted them all when she could.  She never thought any of it was ok and frustrated the abusers a lot.  Watkins was named in 2004 to Woman's Aid and to whoever police and non police where around at the time and in Glasgow of course cause he was around and so were all kinds of police.  Definitely talked about there being severely dodgy coppers who were manipulating people who made complaints by persuading them they needed more evidence when they were working with horror porn producers and disturbers. Didn't I? Definitely. And the other times and the other places.  You did and you do not need to prove it to us. Its not your shame. This year too, we all remember that reaction when you named a sugerbade then had abused us with Watkins, like a quite loud 'wow', or 'whoa' that startled the witness dude whose opening gambit had been 'Have we met before? You look very familiar' in a room you didn't know how often you had been in before with the shelves filled with awards for charity work in, keeping calm when they start keeping forward, 'I hurt here'.  No one's blaming you for the fear but it is safe to start fixing ourselves now.

In other news - have an appointment with the local MP tomorrow.  Emailed him on Sunday, yesterday his assistant emailed back with a time and a place for tomorrow.  Took a bit of womaning up but we mailed back without over thinking it saying 'see you then'.  Not planning on great soul bearing details obvs hopefully just an adult chat about the wider issues.

October 17, 2013

Us - October 2013

By christ its been awful.  Poor beautiful 12.  Not as awful as it was when it was ongoing but still seriously awful.  Those bastards emaciated me and loads of people were involved, loads knew something or enough. They hurt bairns, outside bairns and not just mine, hurt them a lot and no one I told was able or willing to do enough to stop it.  Its probably been about a year since that particular system of seriously traumatised trafficked parts came forward so completely and so devastatingly and for so long.  Last time we had only just started seeing therapist and were pretty mute then too relieved when they went away again to want to trigger them back by talking about it much.  Surely next time its not gonna hit so hard we have all done a lot of work.  Basically gone from having words like 'DID' 'Rape' and horrible pictures floating around a mind that had little awareness of what it was to drawing system  maps.  Its been said before but it can't be a bad thing to say again, with even more truth behind it.  We have stopped listening to BBC radio.

Felt so much better today and yesterday that invited one remaining new friend over for wine and Chinese. She's worried about me. Should she be told less or more? I told her to check out the charges against the bloke from the lost profits. Never mentioning anything about any of isn't an option, all there is with me and where any of us has been is DID, trafficking, incest and 'heavy dudes' from all walks of life.  Chatting is a nightmare and if something new about Jimmy Savile comes on the radio its going to be obvious I want to hear what was said.  She's doing better than G from the burgh though who has become another yet reason to stay the fuck away from facebook permanently and provided an opportunity to recognize the utter disaster zone that is our sexuality/ies without putting the whole experience down to bad luck.  Our personalities, our specific cocktails of PTSD related issues are not going to work well together at the moment.

Definitely officially unshagable, unemployable and fairly unsocialable for the foreseeable future anyway as thoughts relating to sex trigger parts that are 12 and her little sisters and brothers and we are no where near fixing that yet to the point of possibly losing motor skills and cognitive abilities.  The whole 'lets pretend there is an 'I' here' thing to be having any sex at all has had another massive strip ripped off. There's not much left and what is left is increasingly transparent or opaque rather than granite and solid black.  In the long term its a good thing, its necessary to not be vulnerable and anxious all the time to have some relationship with reality even if that reality is hell but blasting away the BS foundations makes for lots more anxious and vulnerability in the short term.

12. She doesn't have any concept of a name. Just triggers that allow people to hurt her, behave to ways she doesn't want to and be in places she hates.

wtf. She's a main product/subject of abuse and trafficking ring based in UK involving lots of media and entertainment types but they were assisted by Scottish RA rings and others.  She managed to hold on to sense that sex with little children was wrong and not the child's fault but had been taught to see that as ending at puberty, she struggled hard against the shame she was told to feel because she had a female post puberty body.  The rape was brutal, prolonged and sometimes public.  By 2001 she was still 12 still mostly amnesiac and they decided it was time to make her not amnesiac anymore. The main people involved in it had be so for ten years or more. That ten years of us fighting, switching and being caught out.  Ten years of having little or no control over my fertility or health or lifestyle never mind who we spend time with.  Ten years of giving specific details to police up and down the country and it making it worse.  Ten years of watching their public careers and or money and influence grow while I was in more and more pain, more and more alienated and victimized and losing count of their other victims that aren't around to be not believed and not cared about.

We struggle to know what to do for her but we have started buying and accepting gifts for the kids maybe if we reduce the anxiety around her she will find away to think and feel outside of the relentless mind control torture experiments.  There is an amazon packet shoved under the bed for a boy who was the first the pick out a toy for his sister, some how it seems to have postage paid on it and came first. Whoever did this thank you. He feels so guilty and he's so little.  What can you do with people we treat wee bodies and minds like that? Surely not give them what ever they want and let them get on with it.  It's going to take a while for him to move on from what those people did, for all that shock to unravel and for the administrator to get that it wasn't someone in here's fault. The damage was done be actual real other people who hurt and damaged lots of other children to.  No one made this horror up in their heads because they are bad or not well it was real. The little girl was happy to wait for her presents, she's excited and happy.  I see them in new clean clothes with warm well fed clean safe bodies they aren't used to, smiling and sleepy and any a setting that is increasingly less chaotic.  Its a cool stage to be in really once the social hang up about buying yourself play mobile when your supposed to be a grown woman has been crossed.  Lots more playing knex and lego with wee man too.    

October 14, 2013

We love and need you all.

You can say, write or draw anything you want. Most of the triggers are deactivated so you will not be on your own with it ever again. The boy is grown up now and after Glasgow Tong can't pull us back into it all again. We coz too much bother no one wants anything to do with us! You don't have feel guilty for sharing what happened, yes its crippled us but it won't always be that way. We have an outside person who listens and believes us so we don't feel cut off from they whole world anymore like they told you you would always feel. Thank for being here, thank for hiding and for sharing but you don't have to disappear anymore. Please think about what you need and what you like, you will be heard and everyone will do what they can to make you less sore, less terrified and less alone. You are awesome.

you will always be 12


The Moyles, Dave and Chapters victim parts have been back pretty much full time again. 2001 was the worst, sometimes them and the dream team together. Lots of just the 3 of them. 'Penis or prolapse' always a favorite game in abuse networks. They took turns analy raping me for as long as it took. In the living room, the hall, the bathroom. When they got what they wanted they brought out another DID part put my hand behind my back and asked me to guess what I was holding. They would force me to do something on camera before I would be given painkillers or taken to hospital. Chappers espically seemed to get off on making me watch the footage on you tube or whatever porn site. I didn't get it how could making me watch it online be any worse?  There was always lots of games in that sort of abuse. They did it again months later but it was just Moyles flaccid penis that time I was very relieved then the other two started on me again. In hospital there was little parts coming out telling hospital staff or whoever what was going on with their little kid voices. I'm not a prostitute. They were back after I got out of hospital but left my bum alone for a little while. The noise he made when the amneotic  sack burst. Gangraped with friends or daily show in the back ground so i'd be triggered when i watched them and wouldn't laugh anymore. Running away and them catching us to rape on the street in day light, evil fuckers watching and gloating. Some didn't look like they liked it but they knew they would be next if the did anything to stop. Black bags taped to the carpet. Police coming in. Then leaving again, one stayed to have a go. Another time, gag her lads. Neighbors complaining about the screaming. Some people died. They got Petey to and in glasgow. They were going to kill me but I knew I could get intervention for that so I'm still here. I wanted to die but not by them. Afterwards I told fife police in 2004 and Glasgow 2005 they turned up as I knew they would with La Vall and Privaro. Disgusted the locals. Police again in 2011 it was the same officer who took what I fantasied would be the first of many yewtree statements she brought it up but the parts weren't around. When she asked about Chris Moyles and being trafficked by him all I could say was 'sounds about right.' There was times I could of killed him, or Dave or chappers but fear stopped us. Fear of what?! Coulson, do you know?

July 19, 2013

It's Summer

We've been neglecting you Daff.  We've also stopped watching the news and have been reading for pleasure.  Twitter is only really being accessed as a reminder that there are people out there working for truth. Now Summer is here now though. Real Summer. There's a lot going on internally as always but needs are being met and that can take a while to get used.  The walking wounded are all standing around bewildered and unsure how wounded they actually are.  Doors are starting to be left open and some are starting to notice. There is also much less of a sense that our existence needs to be known about, to be proved or it doesn't count and isn't 'real'.  We have somewhere to talk now so the issues feel so much less pressing.  Since we last posted there was a couple of drama therapy sessions, fairly regular talking therapy, another half hour session of finding out more about the inner life of my psychiatrist, the implantation of a sex hormone manipulating device and had my head read.  The family drama is as always, ongoing as you would expect.

Its hard enough to hear about the neglect from mum but being there when Alkysis says 'I gave him Wheatabix' and there is no bowl near the sink no dregs cemented to the table top.  She was still saying 'Well they had their breakfast' when me and mum where cleaning at the tea dishes just after five, her abyss programmed eyes, does she believe what she's saying?  When I started writing this post we thought the Spidermonkey and her wee bro were up the road until mum phoned, no one up the road was prepared to rearrange their lives to cover the kids so she took them back down again.  When we spoke Alkysis had taken the kids to the park after consuming an unknown amount of spirits she always hids her drinking, sneaks of to buy it and drink it, rarely admitting she has it and never sharing it.  It think it was Sunday when my mum checked her stash, mostly empty half bottles of generic spirits she checked again yesterday and it was full bottles.  At one point me and mum took the lad from her and physically stopped her from going to him, we've seen her 'skelp' his bum a few times when pissed, we were glad mum stepped up and shouted at her to get back up the stairs.  It was ugly, she kept trying to push her way past us us both and then being pushed back down onto the three step staircase.  The two boys were curios as much as anything but Spidermonkey was hiding and breaking her heart.  Her mum came back down again a minute or two after agreeing to go up and took her on her knee, muttering away in that intoxicated corpse sweet voice, sounded a bit like the wee one was being emotionally blackmailed and being told mothers are much important than aunties but I didn't stay to listen.  I punched and kicked air lots when no one saw and couldn't sleep for feeling my hands round my troubled by sisters throat and finishing it and maybe a little less terrified about her ability to hurt us. Can't see it as a disease or a symptom, its abuse.

The last dramatherapy sessions with the new therapist were quite beautiful after we went back after going in the huff coz our favorite so far is leaving.  We're moving easier, taking up space more comfortable, playing, slowly chipping away at the walls that are blocking the parts that know the traumas from coming to far forward.  Sessions with the new therapist don't begin again until the Autumn and parts of us are pretty relieved about this, solid working class, cynical parts that are never going to be able to have anything to do with being a sculpt, being lead around the room by their elbows or kicking imaginary balls around.  They're there for the socialising with like folk because they know its something that just has to be done.  As natural and necessary as breathing or going for a pish, just something that all people need to do.  Everyone has gotten something out of it they weren't expecting though.

First week of the school holidays I let the wee man stay with mum and cuzs, confident enough that she would take them out and at a safe distance from Alysis, it was only for two nights.  Got a the contraceptive implant the first of the days then went back to sorting out his room.  The day after I got the EEG.  Not exactly what I would of being doing with child free time a year ago.  It felt quite good walking around with dressing on the inside of my arm and not freaking out when the predictable recalls of having had one before started rising.  There's been a couple of twinges of pretty mild period like pain but nothing that really became anything.  No daily battle to remember and willingly take a pill, plus PMS is not something that anyone fucking needs.

Getting to the actual hospital was the worse part with the EEG.  Smoked too much, too late and completely messed up when and where to go for a bus that when eventually caught took an hour to get to hospital. Anxiety levels and audible voices raising all the way the routes went near places where we lived for awhile, my mum worked at the hospital.  After only getting slightly lost finding the department and only asking three different staff members for directions the nurse/technician type was lovely and wasn't pissed off at the lateness.  During the test she kept having to come over and put pressure on my eye lids to stop my eyes from moving around so much.  The eyes move around as different parts speak or move in and out of the body, we communicate a lot with each other through eye movements.  Its the kind of thing that makes passing of as normal extremely difficult when stressed.  Mentioned seeing someone privately for DID and some of the history with the NHS but didn't explain why I thought it was so hard to stop my eyes from moving around whenever the eyes were closed.  Its always felt like the stories where toys, animals all became alive or started talking whenever humans weren't around.  A head full of fairies.  The strobe was alright nothing much happened, there's a speed that's really nice, just before it gets too fast to notice it going off when the pressure starts to build behind my left eye.  See the psychiatrist again in August, he should have the results by then.

We were joking to ourselves that the talking therapist wouldn't recognise the body, people are always surprised when they meet Summer. Its embarrassing and annoying. She said she had never seen us looking so feminine and used the word 'mindful' when I described how we've been thinking about stuff.  It says 'fairly' regular talking therapy appointments at the beginning because SuperShrink somehow managed forget about us and give our appointment to someone else the week before a summer solstice that coincided with a weekend, in a year ending in 13.  We are not asking to many questions about how some of us feel about this, we have a pretty good idea already.  Blissfully though, plants were ripe enough and the depression not full time enough to make major suffering an impossibility.

The solstice week/weekend would often be a dry run, dress rehearsal, a good indication of what the summer holidays were going to be like.  That weekend we drew the face of a much loved part and wrote, played Wii, went to the park with the Wee man and ate chicken and chips in the sunshine.  Hasn't all been domestic bliss though.  The daily battles and heavy negotiations about leaving the house are also still ongoing.  Once out there hes as happy as he ever was until he trips or falls of his scooter, he's not one for a wobbly lip then leaping up and brushing it off.  He wails, full on, heartbreakingly and utterly genuinely to begin with.  Then utterly forced and faked sometimes with the phrase 'I can't breathe', repeated several times..

Will try not leave it so long.

June 23, 2013


There has been some writing going on in the last few weeks and some ideas that would be great to develop but its extremely difficult to stay focused on anything long enough.  Have remembered why I started Daffodil Rites though and that was about taking advantage of whatever freedom of expression exists and about making some sort of public record of my actual existence.  Working with a therapist who is prepared to listen means I don't have to blurt stuff out here anymore.  The higher level of acceptance that 'I' is not one, means things are a bit of a happy mess.  How I managed to keep the body alive and functioning is by itself pretty mind boggling, how someone of us managed to fake a convincing intellectual point of view enough for a good passing grade for a secondary school essay never mind write enough of them for an 2:1 honors degree is quite frankly spectacular, even if it did take 15 years...  Have to admit that preparing coherent pieces of writing doesn't feel like it would be particularly productive at this time.  The thing is its pretty tricky trying to write when you don't really have an 'I' as most people understand.  The I here, which we use because names are a liability, only see stories.  The power to name a part of someone was a big issue in the rings as was attacking someone's sense of being alive and an individual and therefore someone entitled to any moral, social or legal rights.

'I'm not here', was an E.P. I guess, an emotional part that doesn't get older, that is stuck in a permanent state of severe emotional and intellectual damage with very limited capability for thought and speech.  It was always a small part of everything that went on that was always growing as every sanctuary, every possible opportunity for safety and healing had been turned into the site of severe and complex trauma.  I always knew the actions of people who were around me the most were part of the process, as was much of my efforts to stop the spread, no one and no where was safe.  Anywhere there was anger, sarcasm, hope, rebellion, lust, determination, laughter, faith, heart ache, disgust, fury, spirit, regret anything that wasn't resignation 'I'm not here' seeped in and infected like an airborne disease among a population with no resistance during a famine.  We all saw it.  An awareness of what was systematically destroying us was what made many of us.  It was painted for all in the holocaust dreams where my feat where dragging themselves, along with my family and neighbors into burning, stinking ditches, 'They are going to annihilate us'.  I knew it was the final act of will that it would take to give in that would be the hardest afterwards consciousness was a luxury long gone. There was no rules, no relationships, no emotions, no flesh.  Sarky filled in the gaps between the E.Ps on the rare occasions where off the script conversation was required.  Sarky, is someone who everyone (internal and external) will be hearing from again because Sarky excludes no one.


It feels like this might of been blogged about before but suspect it probably hasn't.  The term 'memory' is loaded enough without having spent formative years in a culture of mind control but its difficult to find an alternative expression.  Its a fragment, a fragment that has connected many of core personalities who aged and who could engage with the present, who were often not aware of each other in any meaning kind of way.   It came at them from different angles, through different senses recalling different aspects of the experience that sooner or later became recognisable as one occasion.  Sometimes it was the heat in the sand that would distract us to the point I had to look down and check by feet when someone talked to us or whenever someone internal was about to think they knew what was going on.  To different groups of parts it was the seaside sounds and the individual inflections in the languages that were being spoken that would come back when alone in the stairwell of a multistory or above the beats in a club, or though the verbal abuse from some cunt or other.  When drugs did there thing I would rerun the thought processes that led to the intention and sometimes thrill and freedom in the act and the momentum in the running away.  Sun on the skin and we felt the body as it was then and sensed how it had been cared for, tastes could take it to another level to the point I answered the questions asked back then and couldn't hear what people in the present were saying.

The full on flashback, where you completely experience something that happened without any current awareness of the body and leaves whoever has experienced it with no fucking idea about what had just happened or how long it went on for, could hit regardless of where we were or who was running us.  The moment of every previous flashback became part of the original set of experiences so that we remembered not only some very vivid specific aspects of the original moment but all the times we had remembered this moment before, thereby giving us a history, a sense of having come from somewhere and could therefore go somewhere.  Too many, especially the few that did the vast majority of the working and existing in Scotland who struggled to believe there was even the possibility of a way out, it had only really had one significance and that was that at some point when we were littler, somehow it has been possible for one of us to have gone on some sort of a summer holiday..  

June 15, 2013


The current diagnosis from Super Shrink, we like much better than the 'Persistent Delusional Disorder' from the bloke who had spoken to us for half an hour and hadn't read any notes.

        ...chronic history of childhood neglect, child and adult physical and sexual abuse, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Anxiety Disorder, Personality Disorder, Attachment Disorder and Dissociative Identity Disorder manifest from early childhood experiences.

Prior psychotherapy and medication appear to have encouraged little resistance to these issues.  This is reflective of the chronic nature of the sexual and physical abuse experienced by ***

has a formal diagnosis [from NHS psychiatrist, she's a psychologist] of Emotionally Unstable Personality.  This is an enduring patter of inner experiences and behaviors that markedly deviate from the expectations of the individual's culture. [man that is so loaded! Suspect that a small amount of reading into "personality disorders" might result in the unexplained deaths of heap a of psychiatrists]

In addition to this, ** presents with Dissociative Identity Not Otherwise Specified, DDNOS.  This has similar presentation to Dissociative Identity Disorder, DID, in that there are two or more distinct personality states and amnesia for important information. **'s dissociative states are as a result of her childhood traumas during which thought reform was used.  As a result she can behave and think in ways out with consciousness and that may be inappropriate in a social or work setting...

** is undergoing psychopathology within this practice using an expertise prognostic model...

Might sound like a bunch shrink bull to some but people (and not just mes) have worked hard and sacrificed lots for those words, from a proper, non abuser doctor and in my permanent possession.


May 26, 2013

Guilty Face

I came in from the sea
all parts like Wollstonecraft's monster
wearing your prejudices,
a sheepskin over our wolves and vampyres.
On all fours because we know its easier to take on
your knees and ankles
we were never that scared of McAlpine in his butcher's suit.
All we ever needed was to be away.

May 18, 2013


Felt the progress in therapy this week.  More of the teenage girls have come forward, that know love, friendship,  fun and were musicians, dancers who needed and worked hard for their art.  I hear and see them see them singing and playing almost constantly, awesome.  Some spent enough time in the states to become functioning conscious ANP's who knew we would all be heading back to Scotland sooner or later and usually via some English and/or European rings aiming to make a lot of money fast over a few days and were going to work and sell me to get it.  You know it works with sexual abuse, porn and anything else for that matter if you start to get into something.  It was always getting worse.

Sometimes I'd arrange to avoid all that by going back before being picked up from where ever it was that I was starting to think of us as home by a group of government drugged, raped and mind control enforcement agents.  That would leave me back in the UK with a whole heap of knowledge that I hadn't had, instead of waking up without having any idea about having just been carried of an airplane   By arranging to go back myself it was sometimes possible to avoid the welcome rape that generally happened if I had been away somewhere else, being someone else regardless of whether I remembered being away.

Its not pleasant seeing it all in black in white like this but the filth and unlikeliness of it all is on the page, instead of with us.  Its the same with making police statements.  When you make some attempt at describing something that is happening to you when so many parts want to pretend nothing is happening or to wait in the hope it all goes away by itself and then they read it back to you it has always felt incredibly good.  As long as the statement is the truth as much as possible.  It doesn't matter if they are all smirking and rolling their eyes at each other like twelve year olds in Sex Ed.  The police have been friendly and professional just as often with not at the making the statement phase as much as they haven't and its not like I ever really expected there to be in real or legal consequences for any of it for anyone.   Not in the short term anyway.

Book writing fantasies again.  I keep coming up with really good ways to write about all this as fiction and literature then find myself totally lacking in what it would take to actually sit down and write it.  I'm also been thinking about how maybe we should work on drawing skills and give the words a rest for a bit.  Book writing is for old people.

May 08, 2013

Morning Earth.

Didn't have much to say yesterday. Wee man all snotty and grumpy, didn't want to go out. It was gorgeous outside. There was plenty stuff on the news that no one wanted to know any more about or hear people speak bollocks about so we've mostly been nursing Happy Town. Bit glad that Nemo's Reef died I spent some serious hours on it when my head was spinning the most and its gained some twisted associations. Gaming and weed extremely good at getting us through internal mental health crisis. How to get beyond the bit after the crisis I haven't figured out yet but I'm pretty sure it involves patience and aiming to put body needs first. The usual murk is starting to have a few arcs of colour now, exposing more details in the crap of course but its the colour the eye is drawn to.

May 06, 2013


The tempest is a bit more breezy now.  Thank fuck.  Was able to contexualise a bit better last night and 'I want to go home' isn't distraught anymore, she's too tired.  I have no idea whats its going to be like when I start actually explaining in out loud words whats going when we see therapist later this week.  Hope has started shinning through again although I still feel pretty shaken up.  Still don't care much about the who, what, why, when, how much.  I can't find out from here anyway.  There's often been a strength that I've only noticed when the system is falling apart and all the dissociated, amnesiac ANPs are weeping crumpled heaps on the floor or have jumped ship completely .  I can see how I could of gotten addicted to feeling the access of something closer to the core that happens when systems that have been trundling along start collapsing.  The cores will be aware of this happening long before anyone involved in day to day consciousness will though.

It was rough though.  Not many of us are into suffering like that and not being able to tell anyone what is really going on.  All the confusion, all that intense physical recollections that seem so disconnected from anything else I remember.  That sense that massive chunks of my life and loves, of my development, things that meant everything to me at time had been lost over and over again.  Knowing again, properly how much I can't do this alone and knowing how extreme the DID has been.  Realising, again the actual numbers of adults the were actual abusers or complicit in someway and forgiving myself for still being 13, again.  When the answers start coming its hard to forgive the ignorant thoughts and actions that went on because of stuff that I'd been involved in and then couldn't face after and in very different circumastances.

It's hard to describe how it feels when you realise that the impression of a past where no real fun has ever happened is actually quite wrong.  At least I won't forget about him again.  There is no way I can not be depressed all the time when such as large part of what made me is being denied and blocked out.  When something so significant is shut down like that its impossible to live and enjoy the flesh you are in because its constantly bringing up confusing sensations, nostalgias, terrors and images.  Nothing makes any sense.

What a twat though.  Entirely avoidable.

May 03, 2013

Rain On.

No wine tonight, we thought it best after the last two nights overindulgences. The cannabis will run out shorty to so there's some anxiety about disassociation getting get of control when it does. Mostly pretty numb between lots of body memories. The relief and joy at having access to good memories washing away the coldness of accepting the horrific stuff. For now. No one seems very sure who should be doing what. The front of house staff have left there desks leaving a new and unsure part time temp and a well meaning work experience boy to run the show. They are baring up pretty well so far but reinforcements are going to have to come from somewhere. I hate the feeling that I'm rising out of the body, away from the I. There's too many cult parts that aren't articulate that interpret that feeling as very, very bad news. Beth wants to say hello. She's not sure about pictures but is beginning to see the point of them. She's a bit posh and well presented. Smells nice. The narrator is a shadowy fuker or so s/he would like to think and has had various forms over many years. Goes by Ed. - The Editor.

One Of Those Nights.

The approach at the moment is based on eating, drinking and smoking. Not one we think should be continued into the long term but its tried and tested. There are parts that eat for those who can't and parts that have just woken up from long sleeps and are hungry. The body? Well l'm bloated. The hurt parts that internalised physco sis are petrified. Just believe none of it happened is the only thing to do. The warrior ones, from ancient civilisations, the only ones objective enough to deal with the modern ones. Some of whom have to be restrained permanently because they are completely broken and have serious amounts of training in the violent arts. There's the animals who look after my heart, soul and anything else precious. They keep the field clean and keep the little's who hold the worst trauma cozy and asleep.

May 02, 2013

Over Here.

First post from my bed on the budget tablet so we will see how it goes. Tunes are essential sometimes aren't they? I can't always here music properly. Then something allow happen and start being able appreciate all the different parts. Gotta be repeated though - wtf. So apparently its wine night again. I'd rather it wasn't though. There was a fair amount of over indulgence in booze and food last night. May holiday has put money in early so that's a relief. There's weed here to so we were not depressed as well. Could do with another parent. Or 20. There was so much acting, role play, scripts and sets going on that I can't see going back to that would be a good idea, especially at this point in the healing journey. Animation though. I feel out enough, l know enough to know how good we've got it. I remember enough to know I live a life have dreamed about and thought could never happen. The tit for tat. It's outside anyone's control. All we can do is not get sucked in and be glad we're old enough to know it. Its road from here to there, its bumpy.

April 18, 2013

400th post..

We were doing work on the naked truth - short story she called it.  Story asks the naked truth why she is crying, she says people keep inviting her in then kick her out again, Story says she needs to be dressed in order to be accepted, so her light doesn't blind them and so they have time to except her pain without being overcome (our telling, not the drama therapist's).  It used to bounce about the brain a lot as a child, very timely to come back to it now.

That psych apparently mentioned, 'False Memory Syndrome' to my DID therapist.  Nice rigorous empirical approach then...  She has sent him some material.  I'm wary of these psych investigations that he's got lined up but I've already got the safe place and started the treatment for the disassociations and all the different parts so there is no desperate need to be begging NHS mental health services for help, takes the pressure off a bit.  Like abusers and dodgy police the worst mental health professional have a hormonal response when they come in contact to vulnerable people, they can't help exploiting their position to negatively impact someone else because it gratifies a need to regularly inflate their egos.  When they are not triggered by the needs of people who it is their job to help, predatory mental health professionals appear to be good at their jobs and easy to get on with.  Now that I don't need anything to survive from whoever is going to be preforming these tests on me on us is much more likely to be charming and considerate.  The impact their diagnosis or lack of them on 'ongoing police investigations into living people' is out of my control, the DID is proof to me that I have done all I can for now.  Right now it's all about fully integrating myselfs with the knowledge that it's DID and not a Satanic spell, demon possession, evil twin, ghost of an unregistered child, all made up by my family, some super soldier ultra elite programming that can't be challenged and if I did a nuclear holocaust when ensue or just 'the drugs'.

The only way there is going to be better a understanding of the existence of organised and severe child abuse and its long term psychological impact on victims any where is if survivors engage with the existing systems. Of course its fucking hard.  It's the same systems that promoted and trusted our abusers and protected their activities but none of the bullshit is going to be challenged by survivors bursting into tears and hiding under they duvet to cry then permanently refusing to further engage every time a doctor, nurse, charity worker, police says something bloody stupid.  For us, unraveling the DID is much more important right now and most helpful to everyone rather than making calls to the police that aren't returned or scouring twitter for abuser names and seeing what pops up to give a mental and emotional kicking.

Chest pains recently have been helping put things into perspective recently as well, so loading myself with ginger and garlic and feeling a lot more philosophical.  I know smoking nicotine regularly for years is a pretty nasty thing to do to yourself.  It was insisted on by some pimps especially in early to mid teens because it shows a girl abuses her body or something, they didn't do anything that wasn't nasty.  Keeps you feeling ill, gets the body used to be being addicted to something.  So in some sort of attempt at self care I went to buy myself a pipe to try and wean myself off the baccy.  I came home with what is definitely a crack pipe, although it did not occur to me at the time.  I am very aware of the reason for buying it at time, I like the option of the wee hole in which pull in cold air along with scorching hot cannabis but this is a proper glass like you see on the movies, crack pipe. I bought gauze too though, it was a nightmare cutting a piece small enough to fit in the tiny hole at bottom of the bowl.  I've used it a couple of times, I haven't smoked anything out of a pipe in years but I remember it takes a while to get into.  I got sore lungs and felt all beautiful and yoga meish afterwards and not like a crack whore.  It's a bit fucked up having the frigging around though.  Amusing to some parts also though. Like keeping and using something from a slayed enemy. So many walls to breakthrough before I can deal with the fag smoking, so much murky family shit and teenage issues. I am trying to start to properly deal with it, I guess...?

I'm not buying any weed next week though.  I buying a cheap tablet so we can bitch about whatevers on the telly to twitter, play games in bed, buy e books.  Were all very excited.


April 11, 2013


I feel like I should write something.  Its not easy for me to engage in anything, probably because there isn't really such as thing as 'me', there is just programmed personalities, victim mentalities and a sense that sharing is essential if I'm ever to escape the constant depression and the belief that the truth is irrelevant.  Had an appointment with the psych today without the psychiatric nurse that openly scoffs at my disclouser of abuse by djs involved in child pornography.  When that same nurse walked into the room in refuge the first time, I was a bit sickened, nothing specific memory wise, just the knowledge that her face was very familiar.  I lived in this same town as a child for a little while, my parents went to Uni here so I'm not assuming anything, I can't when whoever knows her is saying nothing but I wasn't remotely surprised by her reactions. Anyway, pysch has referred me for an EEG (could be wrong initials there) and to some kind of psychologist.  He also talked about an IQ test, I told him my child therapist said my IQ was very high but I didn't think it was as high now.  He isn't happy at all with my notes and pretty much said there was nothing of any use in them and that the investigations he is starting now should of happened a long time ago.  I tried to suggest that notes can go missing but he wasn't having any of it.  I didn't say anything about people I talked to in the past being at very serious risk of threats or attacks.

It was amusing listen to him talk about what the police were like when the came to talk to him before I made the statement, the words 'intimidating' and 'bully' were used to describe how the police talked to him, so its not just those that try to report being victimised that are talked to like that.  Apparently he wasn't having any of that either and said he told them to do their jobs, investigate and let him get on with his.  He asked me to be patient with him.  I told him I didn't feel suicidal after our appointments like I have with others, he said thanks.  

 I can't see how I will ever feel close to an adult or be comfortable and confident enough for any job not to feel like anything other than allowing myself to be exploited but schools are back next week so drama and DID work can continue   Its all bastard hard by the way, I hate not feeling like a proper person, so fragmented, so used.  My therapist isn't Sinason by the way, as anyone who has taken much of an interest in this blog will now and I've probably already clearly stated.  I find it hard to read other blogs or forums much to much focus on 'facts' and not enough on reality but was reading some of the comments from Jimmy Jones blog today written months ago before the paedobritain fall out.  As someone commented I'm in Scotland, Sinason isnt.  We have corresponded over email a couple of times but that's all.  My therapist has worked with DID before but not ritual abuse although she was aware of it and is doing lots of research since we started seeing her.

As for the whole 'recovered' memories backlash, I've no time for.  Do people really think that children can experience horrific abuse from people who are supposed to love and protect and then just walk around with all the memories of it in the heads, living with the abusers, hearing constantly from all angles that families are good and safe.  Shell shock was accepted during WWI for fucks sake.  But of course there are plenty of witnesses, documents and records of the realities of trench warfare, not so with child abuse.  I see fucked up shrinks who suggest memories of abuse that are then believed by vulnerable clients as being a bit like false rape claims, very rare and used as an excuse to not deal with the real issues.

Been reading Amongst Ourselves  by Alderman and Marshall, its a bit old now and a self help book so is a bit cheesy and simplistic at times but that is pretty much what I was after.  I get jealous sometimes when I read about the way other peoples switches are so obvious and weren't put through the kind of mind control tortures that are used to stop some ritual abuse victims from presenting too many DID symptoms too often.  Everything, everyone in me is pushed so far down it feels like an impossible task to really remember who I am and where we've been but it not like I have anything else to do.  I would need to take drugs, surround myself with violence or find someone who has known us and would talk openly for that kind of access.  Caught myself half willing nuclear war so that maybe all the super solider training and experiments would kick in, I'd know and maybe have a job again.

Did dream about rapid unsubtle switching last night after reading and about being in the dark.  Woke up well anxious and exhausted, haven't had that for a while.  Psych often says trying to find out what is going on with me is like working in the dark, it makes me smirk a bit that he thinks that if he puts in a bit of work its all going to become crystal clear.  Give him his due though he hasn't written me off as a fantasist or thinks the best way to keep to help is to encourage me to never talk about any of it and feels about my notes the same way I do.


March 29, 2013

Good Friday

Spring ANPs waking today.  Girls that came from good homes, that laugh easier and freer who developed their understanding of themselves outside of abuse, who were loved when they little.  I will never be comfortable using the term 'Apparently Normal Personalities' in regards to anything that is me but its what we working with at the moment and it has a ring to it. ANPs are the parts that manage the day to day running of things.  For me that has to include who deals with the constant flashbacks of horror and disturbing associations in every day objects and activities.  I haven't read or reviewed any of the reading on ANPs and ritual abuse victims recently, I'm trying to work with my therapist mostly and notice who is around with us rather than delving in to other people's research.  Due to the holidays I have two weeks until there is any more appointments though, my brain will probably be pretty different by then anyway.  Sure its been mentioned that 'ANP's, who also choose which of the parts that hold all the emotion, all the trauma are allowed to speak change according to time of year in ritual abuse victims.  We nod at this.

This is the 20 year anniversary of some particularly significant stuff.  I started waking up at times I wasn't supposed to, thinking about things I wasn't supposed to know about.  I was aware I didn't have a child's body anymore, I couldn't convince myself I was a boy, the parts made to preform specific roles in rituals couldn't hold me anymore .  Lots of things had changed since I had last been that aware and much of the stuff that was the same just didn't scare as much anymore.  My therapist mentioned that there was evidence to suggest that something to do with teenagers' brains and particularly teenage girls' brains were harder to control than children or adults.  It rang pretty true.  She talked in terms of the changing physiology of the brain, I talked about ovulating, pregnancy and motherhood, having someone you loved that had never raped you inside you, brings out survival instincts. She called this evolutionary.

There was no fake family, going to school, 'normal' life states of mind that thought they had never been raped and if they had it was only once or twice.  There was no space for them.  Every fucking religious, pagan, historically significant day between sometime in late November 92 till sometimes in late Summer 93 was marked.  The big ones were prepared for, trained for.  With regular boots of forced prostitution, pornography and gang rape by groups of mostly young men who knew others were doing it and they would get away with it between the calendar dates.  I didn't feel much of it to begin with but I was watching and remembering continuously in ways I never had before.  In December I started to really feel it and by late February I noticed that I was able to move, to speech, at will.  It was catastrophic, all the numbness, the dissociation, the denial had lifted.  Everything that was happening, was happening to me and it was the people I lived with that were making it happen and people much more respected and connected than me that were making it happen.  There was so much rape, the police were heavily involved, any attempt to fight or avoid it was pointless.  Sometimes I had to try anyway it made it easier to do what I had to do when running or fighting wasn't an option if I knew I fought to stop it from happening..  By the summer I had discovered the benefits of choosing to take and seek out my own taste in drugs, going to festivals and attempting to negotiate the dose with pimps, producers, handlers and other abusers.  The porn.  It's out there.

I've been thinking about looking into medical negligence compensation, I've been thinking of writing politely and hopefully properly proof read letters to complain about the way the police and NHS mental health services have failed me my entire 30 something years. I've given up on post grad English, I don't have the three and a half grand and I cant be putting myself under any more pressure this year. The woman from Speaking Out, said I should contact met 'ongoing investigations into living persons connected to information I have given them' or something of that ilk.  I named Savile, I don't know how many fucking times to police, mental health services, charity workers, social workers, teachers, people in pubs.  I lived through it and function reasonably well most of the time, I chased them up til I got the opportunity to give some sort of a statement even though I have done plenty of things that could put me in jail. DNA samples don't get amnesia, just the people that run them.    There is fuck all else I can do at the moment, except pray and I don't mind admitting I've been doing that.


March 22, 2013

The beginning of the beginning..

I think it was my child therapist who first described DID to me when I was about 14/15.  When she talked about the chronic depression of the Apparently Normal Personalities becomes they are so disconnected from the Emotional Personalities, from the body, from everything my eyes must of lit up and jaw dropped.  It was truth, bloody truth.  From the NHS!  From another human being! Not in a setting that was very. very wrong!  To me!

Whatever ANP was there to hear that has been behind a lot of the parts since then are recognisable as me.  It was an exit sign, I couldn't always see it or know if it was possible head in its direction but I'd still seen it, it existed.  She never gave it as a formal diagnosis, she wasn't sure that police getting involved in whatever was going on at home would help, she didn't have any confidence in her colleagues in psychiatry either.

The other day my current therapist talked in terms of being David an EP, but EPs from what she was saying are stuck in a moment and David is always the same age as me, I see him age in the mirror.  Last night I was remembering how sometimes as I was raped, usually by a man but sometimes by one of the women from the group that gathered round trying to make me talk throughout it all.  Sometimes their voices were sympathetic, sometimes not.  They told me I couldn't take the pain and had to call on someone, a guardian who was modeled on from someone from a wealthier more powerful group, sometimes it was an angel I was told to call, that I would not survive if I didn't believe I could call on something in my head to help me.  They would climb into my bed and whisper in my ear when I was asleep or half a asleep to talk to the different parts.  They wanted to be there at the 'birth' of other personalities and the creation of pain free zombie or locked out states.  They manipulated, bullied and offered comfort to the created parts and held control and influence over them for a long time after.  That way it didn't matter what the day to day running of things aspects or the resistance EPs did there would always be elements within us that were sabotaging, undermining and informing on any efforts to get out or undermine the group and the networks.  'You can't do anything about it, so there is no point in remembering' was something that was repeated often.  There was a lot of woman involved in the day to day abuse, that was about preparing children for the rituals, porn, sex with groups of men and in teaching us how to abuse and manipulate others.

As we got older, we didn't want to be pretend to be a boy to make it all go anymore.  We didn't want David the eternal big protective brother to be in charge, to be the one that made the lesser of the evils decisions and knowing where about in the menstrual/pregnancy cycles the body was in.  It was bullshit that the only way I could have enough self respect for myself to bother to pay attention to what was happening was to convince myself I was actually a bloke.  I worry how much of that deep seated belief in inherent differences between males and females in terms of their worth and status as members of humanity I still have to deal with.  Its hard to fine any kind of environment to see it properly never mind challenge it.  The people I meet just seem to make the difference, the unequalness, the injustice seem as built into everything as ever and make it even harder to see how there will never be a space for me.

At least now with my very hardworking decent shrink, I've found a place to begin but don't expect much from us, especially in the short term.

March 16, 2013

Grooming a nation.

Last night I thought about attempting a coherent, well structured satanic shrinks piece but I can't be arsed.  I've been engaging on and off with NHS services for 20 years.  I talk about incest and am questioned about my sexual fantasies and relationships regardless of how old I am.  Before he left the Psychiatrist who gave me the Persistent Delusional Disorder diagnosis 3 years ago said he wasn't as confident in it as he was but because I said cannabis use made by memories clearer, easier to manage he wouldn't change the diagnosis.  I asked him if there was lots of research about cannabis and DID and if there was had he read it, he shrugged, looked away.  He said he if was true there was no way I could of gotten out which helped me understand how I got out, they just cant see me..  His English was good but his accent is strong, like me I guess and sometimes I wan't sure if he wasn't answering a question because he didn't know what I was saying or because he just wasn't answering.  He refused to engage with me academically on any level or explain his diagnosis in any detail.

I went into sessions with him and others knowing I was going to walk out again feeling suicidal because I know nothing happens without paper work.  I've thinking about medical negligence as an avenue I might look into.  I never wanted to cause problems for the NHS before.  There is no getting beyond that some especially front line NHS staff have saved my life and others, restored my faith in humanity and a whole shit load more over many, many years but maybe is it wasn't for some of the decisions of the mental health professionals maybe they wouldn't of had to deal with so much.  They were always so vulnerable.  A couple of sickos on any ward, any shift or whatever anywhere could get away with whatever they wanted, assaulting or talking their way out of any problems.

The first few words of statement for Speaking Out.

        Hospitals  healing, corridors, bleach smell close up and in the background  stinks, bright entrails, 'Suicides' on packed wards, choking noise waking up others, I had to quieten them, had seen others do the same job before me

How can talk about such stuff without any signs of distress? Because it and stuff like it happened quite a lot over many years.  It was a game Savile played a lot convincing a child that another child had been murdered, then presenting the supposedly dead child, 'alive and well' later, being all nice and affectionate.  During the 80's his heavies were mostly porters, often from dodgy backgrounds. They would take the piss out of him behind his back and make efforts to do the things he told them not to, sometimes to me.  From early 90's there were more wealthy young men, professionals from respectable backgrounds and there was a lot more filming. Constant bargaining and favour systems going on all the time by everyone.

There was accidental deaths and boat trips to Islands. Isle of Man. Angelsey?

This of course is just a couple of examples of what I'm writing about for the statement  which of course represents only a few examples of what I have in my head.

As much as I acknowledge the validity of arguments about the need for survivors who can communicate on the subject of extreme abuse in a way that suits the commonly adhered to models of language, authenticity and taste I'm old enough and ugly enough not to be drawn into them too much.  Victims experience other peoples needs and wants as being more important than their own.  The victim's needs and wants, right down to their right to live are not secondary they are not even recognised.  They are of no consequence to anyone directly involved or otherwise.  It's a common grooming technique used to get children and adults to start entertaining the idea that the best thing to do in some situations of abuse is to go along with it.  To draw attention to it or to challenge something so much bigger and stronger than yourself can it would only make matters worse.

This is what grooming is, gently and apparently rationally taking someone down a path they had no intention of going down.  It also involves some flattery telling a child they are clever, pretty or suggesting that as survivors activists or whatever we are some how privileged in our understanding of how rape and child abuse functions in our societies and in our minds.

Not that I think everyone who suggests consideration for the public's sensibilities need to be taken into consideration when addressing extreme organised abuse is willingly involved plot to discredit survivors and victims.  And even if they are, the very fact that they are engaged in what they are doing means that they have no idea what or who they are talking about.  I just wish there was a little respect for the fact that while some people are labeling Savile's sexuality and categorising on his type of deviancy, some of us are trying to articulate what he actually did who he did it with.

Lots to be getting on with then.


March 11, 2013

Best psychiatrist I've ever had...

Quotes from report for ESA appeal..

"There is identity confusion even involving her sexuality as she reports her first voluntary relationship in her teenage years was with another girl and this was sexual"

"She always gives an elaborate and sometimes complicated past history of alleged sexual abuse with some disturbing details but typically does not appear disturbed or distressed whatsoever and has told me that the reason is because she has repeated the stories over and over several times, and used to it at this stage.

"Diagnosis - 1. Emotionally Unstable Personality Disorder which among other symptoms explains her possible variable mood, history of deliberate self-harming behavior, chronic feeling of emptiness, identity disturbance and possible dissociative like state particularly under stress.

2. She had also attached in her notes a diagnosis of Persistent Delusional Disorder due to the non-bizarre nature of the alleged strings of sexual abuse which although hasn't yet been verified but still under investigation."

I presume he meant 'bizarre' rather than 'non bizarre'.  Homosexuality equals identity confusion?!?

As for not appearing 'disturbed or distressed' I guess he doesn't pick up on self soothing (rubbing, stroking my arms, hugging myself), the thousand yard stare or the weeping that happened when he said he was going to investigate.  The police have said they same thing, what the fuck do they expect? I generally get upset after such appointments but no one is there to document that so it doesn't count.  I saw this letter the same day as wee man had his face versus pavement incident, the GP who saw us for the emergency appointment has sent me out one of those multiple choice 'how miserable are you' questionnaires.  I must of been appeared 'disturbed and distressed'.

I wonder how many people have committed or attempted suicide  self harmed, went on drug/alcohol/food/sex binges or gave into abusers/abusive behaviors after appointments with Psychiatrists or other health care professionals?

'First do no harm' pfft.

March 08, 2013

torture and flashbacks

Wee man's wee facial injury has been causing me a whole heap of anxiety and some specific flashbacks.  Being held down in my bedroom while someone hit my front teeth with a hammer.  Very calculated blow enough to cause lots of pain and bit of bleeding but not shatter them. It was my family and Savile related but I can't remember exactly who was there. I had no chance of of not being aggravated even if I had tried.  I had an at school alter who knew she could never wonder why she felt so awful or where she was in pain and never to try and do anything about it.  I bit into something at lunch, twix or something and ended up crumpled head head down weeping in agony in front of a packed dinner hall.

There was another time a lot more complex tripping me up, again in my bedroom with my hands tied behind my back so my mouth would hit something carefully placed before me.  Given instructions on how I had to fall, that time was with Scottish Ritual Abuse type people.  Over the days following something like that you had to be careful or run the risk it being aggravated, the healing put back days, and maybe an infection introduced.  Access and quality of pain killers and medical attention would also be manipulated or denied.  I hate pain.

I've got to write a statement for the Speaking Out investigation about Savile at Stoke Mandiville, Broadmore and Leeds General Infirmary.  Okey dokey.  

March 02, 2013

not exactly court ready..(yet)

I think I might give the blog a rest for a while, I need to take a step back to figure out where I want to take this.  I need to focus on integrating, getting fitter and therapy.  I need to figure out what I want to do here.

We are about to start spending some time talking about current thinking on DID so I also need to start trying think of ways to articulate what I mean when I use the term 'mind control'.  I've given her an outline of where I'm at regarding abuse growing up during the eighties and explained a bit working back from contacting her last year but there's a big chunk called the 90s that I'm not remotely ready to think chat or write about.  Ian Watkin's arrest has started that process off, in terms of me remembering who I am anyway and hopefully in uncovering the networks.  Savile's death and the scandals afterwards have made it possible to fill in some of the long term every day blanks in my memory without some psychological or other trauma putting me back further.

So where are we at? I've made a formal statement that was witnessed by two others that alleges Savile was involved in ritualised rape and murder through out the 80's and 90's.  I know this because I was a 'favourite'. I had a lot of experience in being raped and being filmed being raped and add enough dissociated states, personalities and talents to titillate any taste.  There were murders but there was also a lot of psychological and mental manipulation into making children believe murders had happened when they didn't and confusing them about they witnessed when they had.  I did witness murders in Jersey & other places.  Savile was involved in organising abuse in places like the Elm Guest House and the cover ups.  He sought out connections and power over others by any means to gain more access to vulnerable children and protect his activities.  He was incredibly business like when it came to arranging posh dinners, charity activities as well the sexual exploitation and initiations that would happen afterwards.  He offered me for sex at places where he worked and to people he is publicly known to have associated with and I saw some of these people many times over many years.  I would be told I was in a relationship with men who were involved in taking me to places, drugging me and selling me for sex and all sorts of pornography. It started when I was pre verbal and the last time I saw him was when I was 25 and it was still going on then.

I said a while back that I didn't remember Savile having much of a sophisticated understanding of programming but couldn't say that know.  When he felt like he had to his mix or rape, torture and psychological abuse seemed to destroy absolutely anyone. They sent intelligence agents to him to toughen them up but stopped after the agents all went mental afterwards.  I didn't put that last bit in the statement.  The stuff I said about seeing less of him in the 90s - not like I've been thinking either. It just changed when I hit puberty.

What happens next depends on what if anything the police get about my previous contact with them.

February 23, 2013


Very draining fortnight, the statement last week, three sessions this week and next week its my 'birthday' next week. As usual I can't bear the thought of the birthday.  It's my Halloween.  At least at Christmas there's lights, decorations and chocolate everywhere.   There's been a shit load of tears and there is probably going to be a shit load more.  My supplies haven't been supplied and the poor lanky female in the cupboard whose due in about 10 ten days has lost a few lower limbs and was far from over ever endowed before.  My god, I forgot how good home grown bud can taste, even when its well immature and fresh out the oven.  Must leave the rest..

The psychiatrist wanted a nurse to be present while he takes a history.  He's quite open about the fact that he's 'working in the dark', as he puts it.  He seems to think that if he reads my file more and looks into things he's going to figure out what ever is going on for me. I wished it him good luck.  He brought in the same CPN that I saw in refuge, she literally scoffed at me then to.  It sounded a bit deliberate the way she got the pied piper's name wrong.  I think she did the exact same thing last time.  Last time I saw her one of the workers from Woman's Aid said she was a bit shocked at the way the CPN had talked about me when she showed her out.  There was talk about saying something to someone about her unprofessional behavior and attitude but it never happened.  I won't be talking in front of her again but I might ask if she remembers me from refuge.

Psychiatrist said he wanted an investigation of his own, I would of asked what sort of investigation and into what but I was occupied in trying to sob with some sort dignity. We didn't have much time his next patient arrived and he told me when I was about to leave that he wanted to talk to my parents.  For obvious reasons I wasn't too keen but said we can talk about it next time when I will probably also give him their phone numbers.  And PsychoSis's as well for that matter, not feeling vulnerable to the point of not being to handle a ranty phone call from her.

He often asks about my sexual history and fantasies and I find it all very hard to answer, sexual experiences and fantasies are things that other people have.  I have rape and exploitation and memories of sex that felt good at the time. He's asked several times how many forced abortions, not in hospitals I've had.  I kept saying I didn't know.  It's like he doesn't understand what DID/MPD are and actually mean in terms of someone long term memories.  We haven't really talked about mind control at all.  I got the feeling he is starting suspect the majority of what I'm saying didn't happen.  He asked if he could speak to my therapist, I'm totally cool that.  She can give him the sort of academic overview that I can't.

New drama therapist seems okay.  I made up a story about a fox whose happy solitude is broken by the wails of a starving young family that live on the other side of a deep, dangerous crevice.  He takes them food, purely to shut them up but is injured on the journey and is forced to stay and be taken care of by the family he set out to help.  She says she's into using movement and I definitely need some of that but I it's probably going to hurt.

My one to one therapist wants to give me some education on the current thinking on DID and multiples so we can establish some sort of vocabulary to describe what goes on.  I told her about Sally and Rab.  I think Sally was Savile's previous 'favorite' that I watched him and his associate murder.  I told her hair was beautiful before they started on her, she said it was dyed and when I see Sally her hair is mousy.  I often took on the dead, my way of dealing with it I guess it gave me a purpose.  I could help them answer the questions they need answered and they stayed with me always and protected me from the worst.  Rab on the other hand, was long dead before I was born, what with him being Burns.  I was thinking the other night  I would love to write the story of the relationships between me and all the people in my head, we have so much fun sometimes.  That way the focus is me and the amazing ways that the human mind can survive shit not focusing on the abusers, what they did what and what pub they went to for a pint afterwards. It avoids a lot of the legal/safety worries.

I also told her about the flashbacks of birth in my room, the stiff, aching body when I stood up afterwards and then walking into the bathroom to find Alkysis had drowned the baby in the bath.  She thinks its probably mind control.  I'm not so sure.  I don't think the mind control stuff usually comes back in dribs and drabs like that.  The mind control stuff was about giving me (as in the ANP 'apparently normal personality'..)experiences of rape that I didn't completely dissociate from that were with 'me' all day and all night. They don't come back in very sensory emotionally overwhelming flashbacks years later because they weren't blocked out at the time.  Furthermore, the 'me' that exists in the mind control rape stuff would often seem sort of unrecogniseable when recalled.  She if generally really shocked and surprised that whatever is happening is happening.  Where as any 'me' with any kind of self consciousness, isn't.

May hear from the police next week, find out what the almighty Met are saying.  Not that I'm giving much of a fuck.  I can't see me been treated by them in a way that will make me feel safe enough to really open up about everything.  The officer who took the statement was very clear about including that I have information that is relevant to Fernbridge though.     

February 16, 2013


Txted my pal this morning to find out my chances of getting any weed today, she said probably not today but soon. Today is the anniversary of a still birth for the couple she gets it from.  This was enough to set me off, crying loud enough and long enough for wee man to hear and come in the room to ask why I was sad, why I was crying.  Still birth? In a hospital, with medical attention, the support of a long term partner/family/friends, a burial, a name, a date without being concussed, drugged or hit with enough mind control so you forget the specifics, feelings never go though.   Flowers, hugs, sympathetic GPs.  I don't think many of mine born after 22 weeks or so were still, to begin with anyway.  Why the little fuckers would hold onto life so hard I'll never know anymore than I know why I held on to life when I could of so easily just of let go.  Except of course to piss people off.  It was the thought of exposing my family one day that did it some days.  That would include the same woman who calls herself my mother that I've just handed wee man over to for the night because I'm in too much of a state to do much with him and don't have anyone else.  Even though I knew what would happen to them I was often so glad they were there, with me and knowing they were going to die meant I didn't have to fear them being brought up as fucking posts and to rape, betray me.

It's still February.  The 15th stands out like many dates at this time of year but I can't give you names of those involved in each specific occasions, sometimes my family and Savile, sometimes just family, sometimes Savile and others, sometimes police, sometimes just others and of course no real evidence.  Early stage forced abortions, the Dream Team, lots.  Usually in my bedroom.  

Clicks have started on the line again, I guess that means the police from up here have contacted the met.

Talked about some of my Ian Watkins experiences, how Savile showed him how up to bring up little me and how him and the bitch from the Suger Babes hurt both me and PT, how they tried to get others involved but they weren't into it.  She didn't include it in the statement, she waiting to see what the met think about the rest of the Savile stuff.

February 11, 2013


You know that scene from Tangled when she first gets out the tower and is literally swinging between proud glorious elation and weeping guiltily depression.


I'm gonna focus on the 80's.  Time, after all is the only healer and I will make more sense if I try and limit the scope of what I talk about.  Except for a couple of on going issues of course that I need to get out the way first.

My mum said today that she didn't think things would ever change with my sister and the kids will be taking away if sis turns up at school pissed and my mum isn't in.  I said she was being defeatist.  We talked about Alkysis's GP whose advice was to try and get the drinking down to a half a bottle a day and that mother thinks speed may have been recently reintroduced.  I can't see how anyone can accept a life of total misery like that without at lest pretending to be looking for ways to make things even just a little bit better.

Some stupid song on the radio was the catalyst to flashbacks about first true love best friend eternal other half lesbian teenage lover.  It's been a long time since I could remember us together in any real way.  All the abuse memories get in the way and the best I could come up with was occasions when I had lost the will to say no.  Wee man burst in thankfully after the proper cry was over.  Then the phone rang, I was glad of the distractions.  It was gran she wanted to know how to put her TV onto the kids channels for spider monkey and her cuz.  Mum had dropped them off on route to taking snot face to the doctors with a massive fever, my sister was intoxicated and not making any sense.

I hang out with wee man before phoning my mum at the hospital on her mobile, she's waiting to see a doc, Tommy has brightened up a bit I could here him chatting in the background.

My notes for tomorrow are pretty much ready.

February 05, 2013

Ramblings from a Straight Jacket.

Right Digital Spy!!

I've joined but am still not allowed to contribute! If I could I might flag up the 'straight jacket' comment as pointlessly abusive and possibly in breach of the sites' terms and conditions.  I have dreams about being a professional writer, the blog is partly a way of working out my voice and trying out different styles, testing what I can and can not say.  It is also (and probably most importantly) for venting and a way of recording my memories (for me) as they come up because I often forget them.  I am not interested in arguing about cannabis, you don't know me or how cannabis helps me enjoy life and instantly stops any thoughts of self harm or suicide.  I have had enough misery and hopelessness in my life and am not prepared to accept a second more of it than I have to.  My current psychiatrist gave me the diagnosis of both DID and MPD which I find useful because when I'm dissociated I'm 'not there' no one is, but with MPD I am someone else, although usually I am conscious of everything I say and do as the result of team work between alters.  The anger in the poem is a reaction to some of the comments but is also a response to the sensationalisation of all kinds of sexual abuse and how victims are often further objectified and alienated by the professionals, fiends and family members who we desperately turn to for help.

There is no point in trying convince anyone who has faith in existing systems such as police, courts, politics to protect the vulnerable or of the scale of corruption, cover up and violence that is inherit throughout.   Telling anyone I talked to police about Savile and everything else while he was still alive 2 years ago, 7 years ago and god knows how many times as child or adult when it was ongoing is not going to make any difference if they have already decided I'm a nutter.  I am far from the only one who only feels confident to publicly  discuss rape after the abuser is dead and other people are all ready coming forward.

Please don't interpret my blog as being written to be a factual account of everything that has happened to me and everyone who has hurt me.  I'm a creative writer trying different ways to express, share, work through and move on from a horrific childhood and early adulthood. It is a personal blog, that I write for personal reasons which of course anyone can interpret what ever they like from it.    

February 04, 2013

'Like Fiction'

Someone on a forum put up the email that Jimmy Jones put up on his site about Savile.  Someone read it and replied that it 'read like fiction'.  As a past and hopefully future student of English I found that quite interesting, as was the stuff I read on Digital Spy today.

Like Fiction.

ma unkempt grammar, fidgetin voice
an messy register don't satisfy your info lust.
Soz the bastardised language, unlikely
themes and scatty tense teases but
never places in your lap the perfectly formed
balance of immaculate grammar
and convincing graphic imagery.  Ma
fractured & crushed attempts at truth
can't gratify all that starved, surging longing
for an empirically structured but hard
hitting first person narrative.  Coz any mes
(you see) that went to school, they
never got away and are all rotting
still with him in his unmarked grave
or wrapped round our friends
at the bottom of the Irish sea. 

February 02, 2013

How do you know Savile to?

Over the years he took over how I was treated by other groups.  Taking away any ritualism that wasn't completely abusive.  If they refused Savile turned against them, there was some mixed feelings at seeing men who considerable themselves untouchable being treated in the same way that they had treated me.  Savile wasn't too interested in discussing nuances of Satanic theory.  He had no time for any 'genuinely religious' Satanism, he explained to the leaders how to simplify things and then demonstrated on me and others.  Harm for the sake of it which was 'real' Satanism as far as I was concerned, all that bookishness and dead languages missed the point because it didn't cause enough harm.  Of course anything that went on that didn't directly hurt me was to be cherished and he took a lot of it away from.

I looked forward to the time when Savile would introduced himself to and infiltrate the groups and bloodlines that were big on seeing Satanism as a form of political, spiritual and social resistance to state hegemony and oppression.  Brutalising your kids physically before they are brutalised by society intellectually.  Rape your wives so their sexualities don't become tools to subjugate men.  Kill ur babies so the bond between mother and child so it doesn't enslave you. Destroy all bonds between family and peers so relationships don't become manipulated by the requirements of elites.  Some such groups loved getting their hands on rich and powerful and torturing them in ways that were said to represent the effects of inequality on lower classes.  To get access to such symbols of elite power they had to gain favour with the bosses of the rich and famous so much of the time was spent attempting to meet the will and whim of the leaders of elite ritualism.

When I heard Marx being referenced or discussed by such 'socialist' Satanists as a left leaning idealistic young teenager it made my blood boil and I got an insight of what Satanic abuse must be like if your were deeply Christian or Islamic or whatever.  I deeply hated hearing things that I believed used as justification for destroying the life options of others.  Such groups sometimes saw me as a pet and tool of the elite and I was extra punished for that.  I worked hard to sabotage and collect evidence on those elite groups, I felt like if people stopped raping me I might be able to address some of those ingrained social injustices and the power of media propaganda.  Most of the me's had long grown out of being upset at the things that were said but this got to us, lots of us.

I had started day dreaming about what could happen when Savile took them over like he had so many others.  It wasn't something we went in for, fantasizing about people being raped.  It made me very worried about how personally we were obviously taking this.   I thought he would teach them not to be so prejudiced in their approach.  That the point of Satanism was that there was no point.  That they would be taken down a peg or to.  Savile's appearance in some of the groups had caused a lot of destabilisation and even crumbling in some cases so that if you had your eye on the exit you were out.  Instead he seemed unusually prepared to listen to them.  It shocked me when I saw him start to agree and ask questions, thank them and engage with them.  He told me later that it wasn't because he really believed any of that tripe but had to bring them onside for some plan he had.

February 01, 2013

How do you know Savile?

'How do you know Savile?'

Sometimes I didn't even hear the words when people asked me.  They would have to keep asking and sometimes still not get any sort of answer.  I heard it this time though.

'You've got a lot to learn ***, Savile's a Satanist.  He's owned me my whole life.'

I started to move away I didn't want to start weeping in front of that cunt but Mory's beefy arm encircled my shoulders from behind and pulled me back into his half squidgy half solid mass.  I had to pick my issues with Mor and I didn't have the will or any need to fight this one.  He wasn't that much taller than me, his starting not much higher than the top of mine.  I leaned back against his shirt and looked up, its was all letting it's self go.  I gave a pretty pathetic almost canine sounding whimper before the tingling  numb waves smashing through my brain meant he was no longer holding me still but holding me up.  My knees had buckled but only a few that really knew me saw it.  I felt my mouth opening and sounds came out. Somewhere between a cry and a scream that sounded like it came from a small feral child but I was in my mid twenties.  Briefly I was back with the wolves in the snow again.  There was a real deathly silence in that bar.  The ex squaddie bar man was all pale and his hand was shaking when he held out a nip of something, probably a double or triple   I'm not sure but I'm thinking whiskey, maybe brandy.  He had a bad habit of doing the exact right thing at my most desperate moments but being fucking useless or worse the rest of the time, so its was probably brandy and not the cheap stuff.  Maybe a liquor if there was some around.  Mory didn't let me go, just moved with me as I reached over for it.  Things felt better after I knocked it back, the drink exaggerated that sense of near total physical and mental calm, the after glow when something rips forth like that.  People stopped looking like demon's, or zombie's or angels, they just looked like tired, exploited, physically & socially oppressed people. So more fucked up than others and none of us had ever chosen to be there.

There was a dinner and a night in a club I think when *** was there.  He was quiet openly watching me to that point that his wife had a word in his ear telling him to ease off.  I was aware of it and because it wasn't a rapey look, more curious and cautious than that it didn't really bother me that much.  I was a bit bugged that he was making me feel a bit self conscious when I was trying to make to the best of time spent with some the boys.  Unknown to me at the time but attempting to mother my peers in the field when we were under 10 had given many of them skills in wrapping me round their fingers when we were over 10.  Sometimes we found an innocence back then that we had cherished and defended enough to find again when we had the opportunity.   We often got strange looks, all that wet eyed pawing, arm stroking, hand holding and finishing each other sentences in groups, in public.  One of them made a joke about the guy staring that was acute as ever and ignoring him was much easier.

I knew it couldn't be avoided forever.  I was going to have to sit down with the fucker with my business head on and find out where he was at.  He did not bad, in the end.  I had no other options than to tell him as much as I could, he said all the right things.  I handed over the documents and let him buy me a pint.

January 31, 2013

Going Native

'Here's your energy bars.  You confident your can work everything?'

It was hard not to love them for it sometimes.  Being dropped like that. What kid doesn't hate everything and everyone about them so much sometimes that they feel they would do anything to be somewhere, anywhere else.

'I hate it here' and two days later and you wake up in a chopper and your not tied and gagged.  The few people there smile and nod.  Call you by an affectionate nickname.

Generally a pretty keen student in anything survival related I give a enthusiastic nod which causes a bit of over eye coverage as the 'you'll grow into it' head shield, quickly pushed back into place. 'Okay then.' 'I'll see back at X in Y days/weeks'.

I got very good and very conscious when I was older at only remembering relevant info relating to safe places to find food, sleep, speak to people.  The actual instructions I held in a way I could repeat but didn't know until they were out of sight.  Wherever it was the air always tasted very sweet for those first few seconds after the drops were completed.  I'm on my own, my body feels well looked after and I have loads of really useful equipment, appropriate clothing for changes in weather and I'm also ridiculously well trained in a whole heap of stuff.  There was a change in structures and procedures when I was older and someone busted me for not bothering to listen to orders never mind carry them out and I wasn't allowed to work conscious again.  The days 'of it doesn't matter as long as your out there' were over.

As a kid though the sense of freedom was immense.  Sometimes you got sent out like that with your best mate..

A longer spat, living in a place and being left way on my own more than I ever experienced back in Europe.  Able to steal shit from the rich people I was living with and giving it to others, there was no way I was ever going to make it out alive without help from others.  Got caught, some people got body parts chopped of and I cried and screamed a lot.  The British dude who deals with all the 'difficult' me stuff turns up and a Saudi looking dude who turns up when all the trouble kicks off.  I watch them walk off together talking genially.  Plush greenery, tiled floors.

Out East, I mean proper East where it really is like going back a millennium.  I've wondered if there was some sort of Bermuda Triangle, Muller and Scully type time rupture shit out there.  Whenever I looked at maps or tried to imagine the globe there was a black mist over the whole area.  Hearing someone describe it as 'littered' with concentrate camp sites meant there is now a spidery map of railway tracks across it but so much still seemed blank and never mentioned.  Several attempts to study the Final Solution and what led up to it in the hope I could shade the map in a bit more all left me on the floor weeping and not writing any impartial well structured essays, not half way through the course yet.

In the palace I collapsed on my bed and woke up in uniform, equipped, in a humble, tidy, clean room.  I am happy.  Very happy.  I'm out the door like Lara Croft except I'm fully covered in body armor and a lot shorter.  The bravada drops pretty quickly when I'm outside somewhere rural and Northern Hemisphere.  Pine trees, mud vehicle tracks, marshy looking grass. gravel.  It's my 'something' environment.   I can't remember the term but it eluded to the environment where I spent the majority of my formative years of training.  It might have contained some sort allusion to breastfeeding or 'nursery'.  Something that I found deeply offensive when the man with stained teeth explained it to me.  We were out by the big half polythene tubes, like you see on farms.

Anyway, I know its not Scotland, which is something and head off.  An interim later I'm getting drunk in the town square everyone is singing and dancing, hugging and rocking each other.  A group of them give me a microphone, I'm very drunk.  I climb up some steps and  I keep singing but because I'm up higher I see the lines and the pile of heavy white body bags that are being counted and swung into trucks and break down.  Then I'm back in the crowd loads of arms around me and its warm.  There's a woman in a head scarf she's just shorter than me, she's older, she's local, she's saying something, she's pretty fervent  I'm nodding and crying, being held up.  They're all talking at once.