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:

Monday, 15 October 2012

I just made porridge out of ready oats, and it exploded all over the microwave.

As I was writing I realised that there should be a charity for people who come from bad backgrounds and struggle, a lot of people cannot verbally explain what has happened to them and they end up being labelled as 'mentally ill' or getting into trouble for being different, or being used and abused and end up in trouble as a result, even just when their anger and frustration cannot be contained any longer.
There is the Samaritans but they are not specifically aimed at people who have grown up with bad and are left struggling, the Samritans are aimed at people in crisis or suicidal, and my experience of the Samaritans is that some of them are brilliant and some of them should never have got to be Samaritans and sometimes they do more harm than good.

The last thing you need when you are at the end of your rope is a Samaritan telling you that you cannot talk about what you need to talk about because it clashes with their beliefs or that you are mentally ill or that if you can't talk about your feelings then they can't help.
I am not diagnosed as mentally ill, if I need to talk about what the church have done to me then that is what I need to talk about and I cannot talk about feelings because I have Asperger Syndrome, but I have been so blocked and denied by the Samaritans and so judged that I simply don't bother with them.
They kept telling my friend to have a warm milky drink and a bath to relax, even though she kept telling them she is lactose intolerant and has the worst flashbacks in the bathroom because that is where she was raped.

The Samaritans help a great deal of people but they and the social services and mental health services are not geared to help young people who are damaged and isolated because of upbringing, and there are only limited resources to help such people, counselling alone will not always do the trick, even if counselling is accesible, which it isn't always, because an unsteady young person needs a safe place, a foundation to stand on in order for counselling to help without making them more unsteady, and where can any young person find that safe place? some get some stability in the supported environment of a YMCA of foyer project or other supported housing, but too many don't even know that such things are available or even that they are in need of help.

I left my family thinking that the problem was me, but not knowing what to do about it, my mum scornfully said that counselling was useless and harmful and that talking to a friend was better, but where could I find friends when I couldn't form any attachment because of undiagnosed AS and attachment disorder because of my upbringing?!

anyway, the point is that if I could then I would start a charity that helps people from difficult backgrounds to express themselves, not an advocacy service because those are specific in helping people communicate with certain professionals. I find relief in writing both my day to day blog and my book, but the book is the story that has never been told, and if it had, then maybe I wouldn't have ended up on the streets and beyond help, because I have never been able to verbalise to anyone what has really happened, and as a result I am misunderstood and labelled mad and bad when in reality I have tried with all my might to be good, well behaved and productive despite my disability and disturbance.
If people could be heard and better understood then less of them would end up homeless and beyond help.
But how can they be heard, those worst disadvantaged are the ones who can least express themselves and are least heard and are left with no self worth, and that is why some use drink and drugs and most end up beyond help or in a system that uses money and resources on them but can't help them because pills and people in white coats do not replace the broken or missing foundation of a stable upbringing, and do not replace love that was lacking,in fact all the white coats and pills do to anyone is take away reality and increase the nightmare. The same with handcuffs and beatings and locked cell doors, they don't make a decent human being, they take away any hope of a broken person being rebuilt.

There is something missing in the systems, a gap.
And the YMCA and other foyer projects try to replace the missing, but the psychology of someone from a broken background needs to be understood if anyone is to help people who grow up broken and the broken person needs to be able to express what has happened so that how it affects them as an adult can be seen and something can be done to help them.

I'm going to delete this later, I wrote it in my sleep :)

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