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:

Saturday, 3 December 2011


I was talking to the lady on the tea stall this morning and she started talking baout Christmas and asking if I felt sad when I saw the Christmas lights up in the mall and shops, I told her that I had thought I would feel sad but actually I don't, I keep my brain numb and dreamy.

My first christmases aged 1-6 are only a blur, not much distinguishable, chocolate, presents, a little train set, a set of skittles so I played skittles with my dad.

Christmas aged 7 we were in the hostel in County A, my brother was only a few weeks old, it was a thin Christmas in a the hostel full of drunks, drug addicts and other unsafe people, but I remember I got a toy dog which I cherished for many years. Me and my brother spent the run up to that Christmas making decorations and collecting little toys as presents for the others and saving sweets and chocolate for Christmas, something we made a habit of in the run up to the next few Christmases.

Christmas aged 8, we had a home for six months, it was warm and cosy and nice and on the seashore, I found us a Christmas tree, and we had a happy Christmas there.

Christmas aged 9. we were in a very run down old house and the atmosphere was unhappy, but dad had an acocunt with the local shop so he could get toys for us for christmas, me and my brother worked hard to make it a good christmas, my youngest brother was only months old and my mum was unhappy.

Christmas aged 10, we were in a ruined old house where the water, electricity and heating were unreliable, the walls fell apart and there were holes and mould and faulty wiring everywhere, it was a reasonable christmas but my brother and I no longer did any preparation for Christmas, some of Christmas was by candlelight when we had no other lighting, and we only had an open fire in one room and a gas heater in another to keep us warm. My mum and dad were very stressed.

Christmas aged 11, we had just moved to the house where we faced that terrible gang violence, we had no money and it was a depressed Christmas, my mum was unhappy and talking about banning christmas, and considering my parets' beliefs it is amazing we had Christmas anyway.

Christmas aged 12, we were in the thick of the violence and riots, there was a lull over Christmas but afterwards it got worse and we were forced to move shortly after Christmas. My mum got angry and upset and threatened to ban christmas again

Christmas aged 13, we were now in the ghettos of the big city, it was a depressed christmas, with my brothers leaving us to go back to the previous city and their friends.

I don't really remember Christmas aged 14, similarly depressed.

Christmas aged 15, my brother had gone and didn't come to see us at christmas, my mum was ill and no one was really focussed on Christmas. My mum had the baby prematurely just after Christmas and was seriously ill.

Christmas aged 16, again I don't really remember it, the family was splintered and moving apart. including me.

Christmas aged 17, I came back from college for the holidays and spent a depressed few weeks with my family

Christmas aged 18, I was with my brother and his wife for Christmas, they fought, but it wasn't too bad, I went to see my parents and family a few times.

Christmas aged 19, homeless myself and spent Christmas in a bed and breakfast and spent some time with church people who helped out. It was ok and sad as well.

Christmas aged 20, I think I was with one of the youth leaders and her family from church. It was fun, I was happy, but a bit left out as the family was wealthy and all received expensive gifts. I also enjoyed being in my own decorated cottage and enjoying some christmas tv and relaxing.

Christmas aged 21, I was with Janet and her family, it was fun. I was happy.

Christmas aged 22, I was with the hypochondriac couple.

Christmas aged 23 I was with the church couple who I was with when I was 19. It was ok but I felt ashamed at being a needy person who they charitably took in.

Christmas aged 24 I was with my brother and his family, they fought violently.

Christmas aged 25 I was with Greg and Alice, struggling to work and suffering deep dangerous depression because of the lethal medication that Alice had arranged for me to have.

Christmas aged 26 I was with my abuser's family, this was the Christmas that broke me, even though the run up to it was so lovely with my friends.

Christmas aged 27 I was with Annie and Roy, it was nice, and I saw my sister as well, but people in the village slated me for 'imposing' on Annie and Roy when they had invited me, and I was also full of misery about the adoptive parents and how they had treated me. I never recovered.

Christmas aged 28 I was in the suicide prevention centre. I was well fed and warm and met lovely people who gave me the courage to start again and try to rebuild, but that rebuilding didn't get far.

last Christmas, aged 29, I was homeless, in a breakdown from church interventions and spent most of the day in a church, I drank holy water by evening because I was so thirsty. I felt terrible beyond anything, and yet the church punished me further later on for foiling their intervention and ending up in breakdown. I sat there alone in that church knowing that all the church people who hurt me, all my old friends, all my family were having Christmas and I wasn't. I was the one they deemed undeserving. Bad.

Now, aged 30, I am facing another homeless Christmas with nothing certain, and I don't really see any point in thinking about it, I grew up loving Christmas despite the stress and arguments and upsets, it was a magical time, even when homeless and with little or no money. Christmas was about me and my brother and those happy preparations, and even when that was gone it was still a special magical time when everything was going to be all right and one day there would be a better Christmas, until that Christmas with my adoptive parents, Christmas was gone after that, and even now my instinct is to believe it will be good and all right, but experience says it will be nothing.

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