Tag Archives: abuse

Corridors of my mind

I am wandering and lonely in the corridors of my mind
Heart broken into pieces, you drink my tears like wine
I suffer with your lack of patience
I am cursed with your temper too
My heart is bleeding for release
My mind is like a balloon
Will it pop under your incessant pressure?
Will it bang in its cocoon?
Is my destiny to be rescued?
Or is it to become a loon?
I don’t dare to choose my own path
I don’t dare to release myself
But how can I live with such evil?
How can I defend myself?
Only time will hear me
Will it act and save the day?
Will I be rescued swiftly?
Or doomed to fade away?
I am worried for my questions
I am scared of the future too
I don’t know what will happen to me
But I hope it happens soon
I remain in this tight spot
Until fate has turned the key
To lock me into madness
Or to release me till I am free
I don’t dare to judge what will happen
A clue of my future there is none
I just hope it happens swiftly
Release me from my mum
This was written on Good Friday 2017, 4yrs after I broke away from my mother. But, these are the thoughts that used to come to me when I lived with her. I always felt this desperate, especially as nobody ever believed me when I asked them to help me with her. Not many people believe what I say about her, but it is all true, no matter what they say.
I have no reason to lie and what hurts me the most is the fact that my own mother will sit back and tell me that those memories I share with people, good or bad memories, are false, she tried to convince me that I don’t know my own mind.
Such is the manipulation of someone who is abusive; they can manipulate even the minds of those of who believe them to be good people. They can wear any mask for any occasion they want, so if anyone in your life tries to tell you something negative about a person you respect, don’t shun it please, you never know anyone 100%.

 

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New Category & A Stand!

I used to have several accounts on a website known as Blurty.com but I hadn’t been on that site for a long time, I wanted to go back to it this week and update it like I used to – I used to update the sites with general rubbish just to help me get things out of my brain, but also inform friends on my current mood and thoughts – particularly thoughts on current affairs and creatively playing with my own mind.

Alas, it seems blurty.com no longer exists, so I feel I have to find some other way in sharing those random thought processes. 

I tried to open a new account today on a website I never been to before called Live Journal, but I personally don’t think it’s for me.  So I think I will update anything I want to from this site.

If anyone has a problem with what I know to be true, get over it.  I state only facts in this blog when talking about my past, I have no reason to lie about anything that has happened to me and I will no longer be forced to feel ashamed to tell the world what I deem to be true!

The last paragraph is aimed at various relatives and friends of the family, because some people are upset that I have been honest about my upbringing, to the extent they have called me a liar and have threatened to take me to court for defamation.  Well they can try, I have spoken to a friend of mine recently who is a lawyer and they said that if I had evidence through social services of what went on as a child, the case would be thrown out of court in my favour.

So therefore, I no longer have anything to fear, as my parents very nearly lost me to social services when I was 12.

I want to be able to talk about anything I want in this blog, but obviously the main subject of the blog is creative fantasy, poems, stories, reviews, this is why I have created another category called Brain Drain and Dribble, so you know that this is purely what’s going on in my mind right now – it will contain flashbacks, memories, rants about current affairs, anything… this is in an effort to keep my blog active during blocks of time where I am not posting creative stuff.

Sit back and enjoy, this category will be dramatic and touch on sensitive subjects at times.

 

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Loyalty, Vampires and Passion

I adore vampires, I am not sure if I’ve ever made that clear on here before (grins knowingly) and I’ve been thinking about them a lot today. I’ve been thinking about my favourite vampires, Judas Iscariot from Dracula 2000, John Carpenters VAMPIRES, Interview with the vampire and Daughter of Darkness to name but a few.
I love the culture surrounding vampires and everything Gothic, from the strange music options, to the fashion, the architecture and the darkness of it all, to the sheer sinfulness of loving it.
I love the strangest things and the strangest things inspire me to write and paint.
The strange haunting sounds of the music from Nox Arcana in their album Transylvania = visitors in the night, to their album shadow of the raven = the black cat wails and cries of a demon cat and the semi-Gregorian chants throughout all their albums.
I love the tribal belly dance scene, the gothic belly dancers from tribal fusion, I collect the DVDs regularly, I am a particular fan of Rachel Brice – to me, all of this just oozes vampire.
As a former belly dancer myself (not professionally) I am saddened that I didn’t learn about the tribal fusion style dancers until 2yrs after I gave up the dances, if I had known beforehand I think I would have sought them out and have become professional. I adore the dances and I would love someday to have a daughter who has the same interests in it as I do.
Unlike a lot of traditionalists, I don’t see belly dance as a thing solely for women, there is a form of belly dance for men! In fact it was traditional for both sexes to belly dance right up until the Persian Empire was created, then it was almost eradicated entirely for a practise for men and became a very sexualised dance solely for women by the Persian conquerors. The dance is debated to have originally come from the eastern side of Greece, near Salonica.
There is a dancer known as Prince Andrew which practises the masculine form, by belly dancing with a sword balanced on his naked waist and hips and balanced on his head. I find it very sexy, a very sensual dance. He looks almost like a character from Sinbad and the eye of the tiger; though his style is considered to be indo belly dance, a kind of traditional Indian style.
Here are a couple of videos with Prince Andrew dancing.
https://www.bing.com/videos/search?

q=male+belly+dancer+prince&&view=detail&mid=3920BBFA2116361685563920BBFA211636168556&rvsmid=D607C79DEB3A3D2D04ACD607C79DEB3A3D2D04AC&fsscr=0&FORM=VDFSRV
https://www.bing.com/videos/search?

q=male+belly+dancer+prince&&view=detail&mid=D607C79DEB3A3D2D04ACD607C79DEB3A3D2D04AC&rvsmid=D607C79DEB3A3D2D04ACD607C79DEB3A3D2D04AC&fsscr=0&FORM=VDFSRV

Masculine belly dance is starting to become popularised once again, there are more and more male dancers taking to the scene which I find rather exciting.
Another form of dance I like and think is very Gothic, is fire dancing.
I think vampires are very passionate beings, they put their heart and their soul into everything they do, they surround themselves with beautiful things, things they love, because eternity is a long time if you are around things you dislike or things that do not give you pleasure.
I think because they have eternity on their hands, they go out of their way to surround themselves with things that make them happy, collections from the past and even collecting newly sired people to be around them, of the nature that they like and connect with or that feel familiar to them. This is what I think happened to Lestat in Anne Rice’s vampire chronicles. I think Lestat was very nostalgic and may have seen something in Louis that attracted him to sire him, because he reminded him of someone he knew in his mortal life. Whether or not the relationship was compatible it didn’t matter to Lestat, he wanted familiarity and companionship and for a while he got it from Louis.
I feel very sad for Lestat, he seemed very alone. I think he and I would have got along very well together if he were real. I certainly would never leave his side; I am loyal to a fault with anyone I think is akin to me – not so loyal to those who are not akin to me however; being akin means more to me than being simply blood related, it is how our very essences match each other, how we connect, do we click? If not, then the relationship will be very short lived.
I consider myself to be a very passionate person. I am passionate about everything that I do and I seldom do anything that I am not passionate about. If I find it boring, I won’t do it, I will delegate – which is what I do even for my online games. I delegate the boring parts of the game to Paul, feeding my pets for example or setting them up for adoption for me. Some people call it being lazy; I call it, living my life to the fullest, and why not? Mortal lives are short anyway, there is no vampire going to sire me in this world. More is the pity.
That’s why I envelop myself with vampire mythology, vampire movies, haunting music, music boxes, pictures of wolves, bats and gothic castles around the house, thick wine coloured velvet curtains in the living room, old roses in the front garden with lilac and irises. Royal purple walls in the bedroom with a black carpet and red bedding. But not everything about my house is wonderfully gothic; unfortunately, there are a lot of places I need to decorate in order to eradicate the cold ice white walls my mother painted in most of the rooms downstairs. The brown sofa is a far cry from what I think is perfect, but it will do for the time being.
I have owl ornaments everywhere, a box filled with raven feathers, a raven feather silver necklace I wear on very special occasions. I miss the tiger’s eye ring my ex stole from me and the wolf fleece blanket with the midnight blue sky and full moon another ex-took from me. Yes I know, they are just things, but they were mine and I loved them. Especially the ring, that was special – my dad seldom could afford to give me anything with the money my mum would allow him, so anything he gave me was more precious than life’s blood, he gave me that ring, my ex stole it and that hurts.
It wasn’t all that particular ex stole, he stole an heirloom, the ring was an heirloom, he also stole my savings and unbeknownst to my mother at the time I had savings of £12,000 and when he dumped me I had less than £500 left.
It is this ex that made me dominant. After he hurt me and abused me in more ways than one, I became bitter against men in general for about six years, the boyfriends I had before Paul, were all submissive in the BDSM scene. Paul however wasn’t, but he wasn’t prepared to take me as a submissive, he reckoned he saw the true nature of me that was hidden because of abuse. I must admit that I had a lot of my gumption beaten out of me over the years before I met Paul. Since living with Paul the tolerance for other people negative behaviours towards me are at a minimum, boy have I got feisty since meeting Paul and he thinks this is a good thing.
I have a very low tolerance for anyone destroying my peace, destroying what I have accomplished since disowning my mother three years ago, I have a very short fuse for anything that upsets me. Learn what I like, learn my boundaries and we can be very good friends, solid in fact.
I have no qualms telling people that I demand a lot, I demand attention and the best, I demand love, I demand to be considered precious and above all, I demand loyalty not only for me, but my chosen family.
I consider my family as a pack, a clan, a tribe – very similar to how people view vampires, they have their little nest of individuals that stick together, I consider myself and the members of my house to be like this… a solid loyal unit.
I crave a large pack, whether fashioned together with a few like-minded friends or having children and teaching them loyalty and supportiveness of each other.
This is one the most unforgiving things I cannot stand about my mother. The bridges she burned when the family needed her the most, she’s a quitter. I’ve never been a quitter, but thanks to the bridges she burned not a lot of family wants to talk with me anymore, except for my father’s side of the family. They associate me as her little goon, because I was never allowed to leave her side right up until I was 27yrs old, I went everywhere with her, even missing school for home education to be with her, because she demanded it. As far as many relatives and friends were concerned I and my mother seemed close, too close, unnaturally close, so many believed we held the same values. In fact we’re total opposites.
My heart breaks day in and day out because of the family isolation I’ve endured because of her. When granddad was alive, I would be in regular contact of so many relatives, I was socialising at the weekends with the grandchildren of his cousins! Now that’s extensive family for you, what’s more is I was lucky enough as a child to have this happen on both sides of the family. My father’s side of the family are in regular contact with my grandmother’s siblings grandchildren! But again, because my mother isolates herself, she has therefore isolated me and my father from both sides of the family over the years.
I went from having approximately 15 to 20 visitors a week at the house, all different, all relatives, and having up to 18 people visit on Christmas Eve or Christmas Evening, to getting a visitor once a fortnight, the same one or two people and then only 6 for Christmas dinner, then down to just 5 for Christmas dinner and a visit from my brother and his girlfriend once a month.
I have a void that has not been filled since.
This is why I am in the scene, not the Gothic scene, but the BDSM scene. This is why I am so open-minded about open-relationships, I crave a large family and if I can’t make one through having children, then I intend to grow a large network and I think it is very unfair for anyone to try and deny me that.
I love vampires as they are eternally loyal and passionate.

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Shut up

If what I say is a lie then please tell me why I can prove you wrong
With letters and minutes from social services, it will show evidence that you will see is strong!
So when you gather around and around, for evidence against me
Just take a look at what you do
Is it as strong as the evidence against V?
I think you will find that it is not, so save yourself some trouble
Keep away from my life and blog and realise that my life is left in rubbles
I am sick to the back teeth of knowing that you are gossiping about me
Sitting back with curses, whilst drinking your hot tea
The truth is, you were never there when I was young
Always going off into the sun
Never knowing that your dear mum, is not the same to me
So when you sit back and think bitter thoughts, just realise what you say
Just know that she can be different, to each person, every day
She isn’t who you think she is
But to you she is a gem
Just take a step back and leave me be, because you’re only fuelling them
You have no idea of the can of worms that you’ve opened by telling them those things
It’s more than just one person that comes back to me to sting
The network is vaster than you can ever know
It’s greater than you can ever see
So just keep away from gossiping, about me

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Lies, truth and love

Locked in cold stone walls
Shut away and forgotten
Forbidden to live a life
By those who are mean and rotten
Lied about by your torturer
Hissed at by their friends
A mystery to others
Yet no one helps you mend
People accuse you of being the trouble
People accuse you of being bad
Yet nobody knows that the woman they love
Is evil and nasty and mad
Some have seen the truth, a glimpse
But unsure, they look on
And eventually I run away again
And hope that I can belong
But away I went and then there was more
Trouble and lies and hate
But the people who witness the things going on
Think it is I who has caused this fate
They won’t be told that someone they like
Have two sides to their personality
Instead they decide to add to my torment
Thinking they are defending their mother, naturally
But they don’t remember I am not the only one
She has kept in the dark and cold
I am one of three and she hates two
But the oldest one, he never knew
He won’t accept the truth
My father is lovely and it pains me to say
I might never get to see him again
Because she rules him, and he won’t come
To visit me and his grandson
Because she lies to all around, that she gives him a choice to come around
But she doesn’t you see, the truth is this
She would rant and she would spit
If he came knocking at my door
So until she dies, I’ll see him no more

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Horror and mental illness

One or two of my poems have been considered to be short stories in my mind by me, I thought this was enough – however my husband and a friend of mine mentioned to me yesterday that some of my poems are moreish and therefore they feel that I should work on making them into a larger story preferably novel sized piece.

My husband is quite persistent about two of the poems I’ve agreed would make a better larger story, therefore he is straddling me to the grindstone and making me get to work on them because I’ve been procrastinating on my leprechaun comedy for eleven years now and I am losing enthusiasm for it.

I’ve been advised by a friend too, that my fantasy work is good, but my horror is better as I seem to write more freely and graphically, which shows that this is where my genre should be. Funny enough I originally was a horror writer, I only entered the realms of fantasy within the last decade in order to get a wider audience and I was mistaken with the idea that I would be more free to do my own thing – in horror you can do that, in most other genres there does seem to be a general protocol.

I tend to read fantasy and horror but usually horror prevails as a reading choice for me, so therefore I know that I am more experienced with horror; I also have a sadistic, black sense of humour and a lust for shocking people; which I guess makes the genre perfect for me.

I know a lot of people are getting tired of vampires but, they are my favoured creature. However, I do love writing about mental illness (considering I have experience there too) and so writing about the horrors of the mind comes easy for me – particularly if it is regarding cruelty and isolation.

The novel I am attempting to write whilst I put my leprechaun comedy on hold is based around the self-harming and mental illness of a young girl who lives within an asylum and how she got there and why, the book will concentrate on the horrors of the occult, social services, abuse and isolation. There is more to the story, but I am not going to give things away, there would be no fun in that now would there?

So forgive me if the blog is neglected for a while, my husband really wants this story written and I am looking at my previous work with fresher eyes and I am very enthusiastic about this one. Who knows, perhaps it will become finished enough for me to have the confidence to post it up for YouWriteOn.com?

Ciao for now.

 

 

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Abusers have two faces

People hide behind smiles and generous acts all the time

This is the mask they wear and only the abused knows these tricks

People who’ve never experienced abuse cannot see through the bricks of the walls of the abusers and victims

They never see drowned ones in the slime

Never see their friends and family as swine

But they abuse or are abused all the time

And now here ends my rhyme

Abusers have two faces

Though you’ll always see just one

 

 

 

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Forget me

I dream of the day that I am forgotten
Many people vex me so
Most people treat me though I am rotten
But people deny the truth did you know?
I am troubled by unsettled lives
Not my own but theirs
They watch my every move, each second
Warning me to beware
If I speak a word of truth, that’s it
Everyone comes knocking on my door
But they deny I tell the truth, claim I lie some more
Whilst they are around I can’t have a proper life
Their supporters don’t know they cause me strife
But no matter how far away I go
There’s always someone treading on my toes
From distant places, deep in my past
Their abuse isn’t local, but it still lasts
Indirectly it may be so
But they have other people you know?
So that is why I dream today
Of a time where I am mislaid
Why can’t people forget me now?
I’ve been gone for years, yet they still scowl
How sad their little lives must be
If all they can do, is still think of me

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Depths of blackness

In the depths of blackness I hear the cries of creatures drowning in their own sorrows of the thick dark night.

Souls wretched and souls bereaved, crying out to the night for love and release.

The fires of torture burn through their brains, in an agonizing heat wave how can they be saved?

Swimming through the whiny larvae of their new found home, sinking floating, choking on volcanic foam.

Tortured souls how can they be released?

How can they suffer anymore than this? For what is the purpose, isn’t this insane?

To see tortured victims burn up in the flames?

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daily pages 2 2015

I am not going to fall at the first hurdle of writing my daily pages, though currently it is hard to do when I have a constantly screaming 4yr old boy in the room with me and I have a mild headache with a double ear infection. Trying to think positively and trying to imagine I am well, I am healthy and I am not irritated by senseless and mindless toddler noises… trying, but not successfully.
My husband wants to take the family for a walk around the estate and village, but I am also interested in not only writing these daily pages right now which could take me about 90 minutes if I can’t think of anything to say, but I also want to watch whilst typing this a documentary about Neanderthals, of which I am convinced my son is one.
Also my brain is occupied with the music theme tune of a children’s program called gigglebiz, a program I hate, but the tune is annoyingly catchy on a religious level; that’s how I believe religion became so successful, good music, great lyrics, catchy and annoying tunes that you keep hearing yourself singing or whistling and before you know it, you think you’re religious because you like the music… scary stuff.
Want to control the world? Be a great musician that can create catchy to borderline annoying tunes that people will love to hate, and your work will never be forgotten and before long people will be living what you’ve written… think hippy! Think happy clappy!
People hate happy clappy because it gets into you so much if you allow yourself to listen to it.
Positive energy is just as catching as negative energy, though some positive energy can be difficult to get rubbed with, because there is always some kind of recoil from others… they’re so used to feeling negative and seeing things in a bleak way, that the light scares them… think about being in a cinema during the day then leaving the cinema at high noon with clear blue skies… painful huh? Energy works pretty much the same way.
Anyway on another note I have been playing word tornado on facebook a lot this afternoon and losing dramatically, seems like the whole world gets over 700 points and I only get an average of 580 – you know I doubt the authenticity of their so called talent because I play scrabble a lot offline with people and I am always the winner. I have a very broad vocabulary and a very cunning way in using the board and I hang around with people with very high IQs, so I guess there’s a lot of internet game cheating going on there.
What is the point? It’s a game, you don’t feel the same way when you cheat and win in a game than when you play honestly and win, so why?
I cannot believe that everyone I play against is a genius.
In fact I absolutely refused to believe it.
Anyway, rant about game cheating aside, for the last 3 months I have repeatedly borrowed one book from my local library called “The art of Gothic music and fashion” by Natasha Scharf. It’s quite a read and quite inspiring.
It’s one of those books that have double pages on each page, I am unsure what it is called, but you can sometimes find old Sherlock Holmes books that are like that, like newspapers.
In the books there is a lot about all types of gothic people, from Lolita goths to steampunks, unfortunately there is nothing in there about some people I know in the BDSM scene who are what is known as “Cyberdogs” gothic, black leather wearing dog roleplayers that where fetish dog masks, something that I have seen once or twice during my travels to Camden Town.
However, talking of cyberdogs the fashion company was mentioned there.
Woof, I think I would have liked to of come under that category if I was still available in the BDSM scene, though with my weight I’d probably look like some overweight bulldog… which no offense to bulldog enthusiasts or bulldogs in general, to me that’s not a good look.
I am listening to beautiful Greek music whilst typing this, yes the Neanderthal program was turned off about 90 minutes ago and I had a long game of online word tornado.
My toddler is sitting on the sofa bleary eyed with tonsillitis and all I can do is recoil as I am only just getting over severe pharyngitis where my GP felt I was nearly hospitalised earlier on this week.
I mentioned the Greek music because I remember a time I heard this exact song played at my mum’s friend’s house Niki and my mum mistook it for Asian music and told her, in an offensive tone to turn off the said music in the most derogatory term of phrase she could come out with – my mum’s friend Niki replied with zeal and shock and horror, that it’s not that type of music at all it’s Greek! To which mum seemed very embarrassed.
I love all cultures, I love their music, their food, their ways, I love learning about people from all walks of life, my only prejudice is religion of any mainstream kind, especially if people kill for the sake of their religion, or if their religion has a history of killing people when conversion was impossible.
Now my randomiser has turned on some medieval music, I am very eclectic (nearly wrote epileptic), my brother is an epileptic and I was told I have a minor form of it by a Rugby GP because I said I get some sensations on my head like people are stroking my hair from time to time which seems to be getting more intense lately, I don’t believe him personally.
I started these daily pages about 4 hours ago, still not finished. I am not in a creative mood today, today is a day off after all, it’s Sunday.
It’s not that I am not dedicated to my work, but today I woke up late and I felt in a reading or scrabble like game mood, particularly as my back is still getting over the fast bumpy bus ride I had into Coventry yesterday, I think they’ve sprained my back!
I am by far a hypochondriac by the way! Seriously not one, just bloody unlucky!
I also have a craving to watch the first episode of Game of Thrones on DVD rental by lovefilm, but when my 4yr old son is awake I won’t, he will not be allowed to watch such violence, I demand that! Also, if I couldn’t watch that then I would like to watch Van Helsing because in my opinion that’s very mild for a child to watch in comparison to other vampire movies, but when a female vampire threw the cow at a building Henry freaked out and got very upset over the mistreatment of the cow last year that he categorically hates vampires – bursts into tears, how can anyone hate them? They’re my kindred spirits!
My son hates me since; especially when I told him I love vampires and that I am one in my books.
All jokes aside our relationship did change after that movie.
I have at least another 600 words to write before the 3 pages are done for the day.
I still find it annoying that some relatives watch this blog, just so they can stop me talking about things that are TRUE AND REAL but they’d rather hide it under the carpet like some dirty secret. They keep brain washing me about skeletons in the closet and my brother isn’t the only relative either, some other relatives are encouraging me to speak the truth, some of them will shock my immediate family because it’s not who they think they are, it’s the most unlikeliest.
Because I was raised in a very unhappy environment, but no one is allowed to know that as I will be sued for defamation apparently.
So yes, like always, I am living under the shadows of blackmail by my bullying family.
It’s infuriating because originally this blog was set up as a form of therapy to overcome my problems, by the advice of my psychologist.
If I ever became famous, I would want people to know the whole me, no holds barred – not because I am an attention seeker, but because I don’t like skeletons in the closet. I would rather be honest and forthright to people, instead of sitting back meekly being a mystery – because let’s face it, before I moved in with my husband I hate no life before the age of 26yrs old… so that’s going to raise a lot of uncomfortable questions in itself, because my life, my experiences up until that point were very, very minimal and people will think that there were bad things about me directly, when in fact it wasn’t – it was things happening to me by bad people.
I also want to raise awareness of certain things once I am famous or even before I am famous, because there are a lot more ways to abuse a child or a relative that people originally think.
Isolating them, home-educating them to isolate them further, when they become adults, making major life decisions for them because if they refuse they will have bad things happen to them and they live constantly in blackmail. I put my foot down against my mother in 2013 because she tried to force me to commit fraud, that’s the truth behind why I don’t like contact with her now. Because she tried her best to make me commit a crime which is not within my nature, Paul was abhorred and it was him, along with a family support worker and my psychologist that felt that the break had to be made as I cannot raise a child around a grandmother who thinks that fraud is OK on certain conditions and that you’re a bad person if you don’t do it for your mother/grandmother.
Awareness of different kinds of abuse needs to be raised.

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