This is a merge of my 'Wanderer' blog that tells of two years of my three years on the streets, and a new blog that tells of my life after the Diocese of Winchester ripped through my life for for the last few years on top of the previous serious harm that left me homeless
This is a day to day blog of my life as I continue to survive, work on recovery and on the social problems that I have and try to come to terms with limitless traumas I have survived along the way.
This blog is in tandem with my blog about my experiences in the Church of England

The former name of this blog and the name of it's sister blog are to do with my sense of humour, which I hope to keep to the end, which appears to be ever more rapidly approaching. At least I laughed, and I laughed at the people who were destroying me. Don't forget that.

Here are my books, which I wrote for you if you would like to know more:

Thursday, 3 November 2011


Drowning in hopelessness, I have to stop writing 17+ for the moment.

About four years ago I had a car, a place to live, I had friends, I had a future, maybe. I had happy memories and sea and adoptive family and some sort of happiness. I struggled with life, but I never imagined that I would end up condemned and without a future.

Now I sleep outdoors in the dark with horrifying and distressing memories bothering me, and no future.
I have nothing to live for and there is no way of changing that. I have no car or licence, I have no bank account and no money, I have no identity, the only ID I have is my passport which isn't fully English, and my records. I am condemned, I am gagged, I am in pain that until someone calls the church to account and releases me from condemnation, I will never be free from.

what are my memories? I try to block memories, but they are all I have, because who I am, who I was is in those memories, I am no longer, but I cannot go back and collect myself and make everything fine again, as if it was ever perfectly fine.

I remember being a young child and being scared and abused, seeing violence and feeling harsh punishments, I remember being on the move all the time, I remember the hostile press and the hysteria, I remember the violence and hostility, I remember my sister being assaulted, the violence in the hostel, the nightmare of the small house and trying to go to school aged 8 and not fitting in, the endless moving on, the hardship, the anger, the violence, the depression, the crazy religeon, the homelessness, the shame and poverty and ragged clothes, the missing out on all the good things, the escape from the family and attempt to sort myself out and do better, the struggles, the failures, the abuse, the condemnation of the church, the destroyal of what I ha tried to build of a life, and the shame as the church continued to harm me after destroying me, and how they blamed me for reacting and denied responsibility.
what hope is there? that is thirty years of fighting against the tide, all the good ambitions I had, honest hard work, hope for healing and a good safe home and family is gone, my career and home and everything I lived for, and the little bit of quality of life that I gained, are gone, there is nothing, and no way of rebuilding it. I cannot live indoors or remove the terrible one sided story that the church have placed there, the bad record they have given me, I am helpless and lost and too damaged to ever heal.

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