There are things I try not to think about:
things said and done
my lack of car and driving licence and how the church took both
my lack of bank account, also gone because of the church making me homeless
the terrible things that the church have said and done and denied
the lack of money and lack of future
the fact that the people who have hurt me and the people who have supported the hurters have got away with it
Anne’s death – my friend who died after the diocese had driven a wedge between me and her
what G.P. has done – G.P was a close friend of my Dad and family, and last year he was arrested on child kidnap and porn charges, and there is no doubt he did those things but I hadn’t known he was that kind of guy, neither had my Dad, I think other members of the family did. (G.P. was a close family friend who was arrested while the Diocese were destroying me). he abused my younger sister.
the millions of repercussions from what the church have done to me
how useless and ashamed and worthless I am, especially with the church labels
Thats enough for now.
I know someone who tells me she was satanically abused in the church of England.
The problem is that she has mental health problems, problems get labels from Borderline personality disorder to paranoid schitzophrenia. She threatens violence and does very severe things, she is into druidism and spells.
The problem for me is that I know what it is like to be disbelieved, I know what it is like to be labelled insane, and for all I know, her behaviour could be because of the abuse, as my own wild anger and bizarre responses to the pressure from the church was, I am declared free from serious mental illness though, and I don’t threaten lives.
what should I do? believe her? It is hard to get any solid consistant details from her, or worry that I am feeding a fantasy if I support her?
can I just share some things before I have to log off and go out into the cold?
some of the things that hurt and distress me every day (and this is the very tip of the iceberg)
The way church leaders lied and protected my abusers
The way I was called wicked and malicious and a troublemaker and a liar by the church
The way that the church brought false accusations against me rather than accept any responsibility for their actions and behaviours, the way they blamed and criminalised me.
The way they took my whole life from me and pretended that they were only caring and concerned, and made me out to be insane.
That is all I have time to write today, I am now going out into the cold dark world that I live and sleep in.
I am trying to write about what has happened to me in order, but sometimes I want to get the terrible things that have been said and done out of my head.
Can I share some things with you in order to help me sleep better?
The person who was supposed to investigate and deal with my complaint of abuse told me that my abusers were ‘just Christians who got things wrong’, and yet the church leader called me wicked for reporting his friend for abuse.
After the church destroyed me, I managed to re-settle in a new church, until the diocese contacted them and ‘told them about me’, and the priest came and shouted at me and said he had ‘heard about me and what I had done’, he had not heard about what I had been through though and when I spoke about it he said he ‘couldn’t comment because he didn’t know anything about it’.
My abusers were not bad mouthed and blackened this way, they were told they were innocent by their friend, the church leader who got away with trying to close my complaint and support them and blacken my name.
My abusers were both accused previous to abusing me, one of abusing his own daughter and one of misconduct in a pastoral care role in a previous church that led to him being sacked from that role, and yet both these men were in positions in the church where they were able to prey on me.
preying, a speciality of the church. A place where vulnerable people go to seek shelter, and a place where abusers go to find vulnerable people and to gain power
I am reminded of how much the church have restricted and damaged me, and it breaks my heart and leaves me in despair.
I am reminded of how I smell homeless and it makes me sad.
I am reminded of the times when I sat in the college chapel, trying to teach myself grammar from a little book before class, my grammar isn’t too good, but I am not sure why, I think maybe my eagerness to talk means I do long convoluted and sometimes slightly confused sentences with too many colons and not enough full stops or semi-colons.
My book that I am looking at in between blogs is called ‘Louder than Words’, it is about a boy with autism and how his mother tries to get help for him.
I am about to continue the London blog, but some of this is cut and pasted from where I have written it elsewhere, so it may be in a slightly different style.