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:

Tuesday, 5 January 2016


Good morning peeps,

I started feeling very ill yesterday and I still am. I haven't felt well recently, but that's life. As you know, I am quitting the rural paper routes, and that is this weekend. I am hoping a slightly later start will help me. But I am not sleeping well, and I can't make things better because I can't afford better orthapedic support or a better mattress or even a mattress topper at the moment, my finances are not so good.

I was sad to hear from my friend's family yesterday, I haven't been round there as she is in the last stage of life now, and I haven't even been by to do the cleaning but they phoned me and said it is just family time now and they will contact me about the funeral as soon as they know.
It made me feel sad.
This is the song for my friend who died in January 5 years ago and it may as well be for my friend who is dying now:

I don't know if I have mentioned in English that my past life has been replaying itself and everything that has happened before has been happening again, apart from being abused by the church of england because there is no other church of england to re-enact them.
But it is an interesting psychological phenomenom.
I call it 'going backwards to go forwards'.

When we managed to house me, after several attempts, a few years ago, managed to get me to stay indoors and sleep in a bed and be ill and go cold turkey, terrified, hiding in a corner and not sleeping. My psychologist had said that the way to save someone who is profoundly traumatised was to blur the edges and change the memory.
I had no idea that it was possible to relive everything and see it all replay. Even horrble things like my friend dying, although this time she is dying not estranged from me by the church of england as happened with my previous friend.  We had a lovely Christmas, and when she hugged and kissed me when I left on Christmas Day, I knew we were saying goodbye.
As I said in my poem when she told me she was dying ' In the patchwork of life, she has been one of the bright patches'.

Anyway, I woke up so ill this morning, I should be in bed.
I did the papers, and despite the continued heavy rain, the floods had receded.
But Florence decided to throw a fit in the middle of the road in the pitch dark.
This scared the hell out of me.

But I am home, the papers are delivered and I am not sure what to do now so I will probably sleep.

I know I am on 5HTP but I had such a strange dream last night. I dreamed I had a baby. It was a cute baby too, and very obliging, I was working out how to care for a baby, so I was going to give it a bath, and it said 'what after the trauma of being born?' but it swam cheerfully around in the bath, informing me it could breathe underwater, and generally it was a very easy baby to look after.

No comments:

Post a Comment