Living With Love Addiction Part Two: My Happily-Ever-After?

A few months ago I wrote a very passionate post about a mental condition that stems very much from my heart that makes me addicted to the experiences involved with giving and receiving love; be it friendship, family or a significant-other.

At the time of that post, I had decided to take a vacation from love and to develop as a single, independent woman who does not need to love or be loved, but simply wants to when it is appropriate. No withdrawal symptoms, no depression when I am rejected, no overly-needy or overly-giving behavioural patterns or any other such love addiction problems.

- - - - 

Time has passed, and I really feel like I have come a long way. I had my personal time to develop a love of myself and become a stronger person, and although I have a ways to go, I think that a lot of progress has been made. So much so that – after patiently waiting for me – I decided to pursue a relationship with one Robert-James Brazier who is now my Legal Carer, and my future husband.

Wearing my ring! Sadly it turns out that I am allergic to its
gold, but we are going to have a jeweller fix that for us.

Many people would say that we are rushing into things and that it is “too soon”, but a lot of thought went into his decision to ask me, and plenty of hours of contemplation and serious talking before I said “yes”. In-the-end though, it came down to one simply fact that surpassed any doubts that either of us had, and that was that – as we both phrased it - “when you know... you just know...”

- - - - 

I waited many weeks before I said “I love you” to my ever-patient (then) boyfriend who understood that I wanted to be certain that I loved him because I wanted to and because it was genuine, not because I had to due to my addiction.

Robert and our cat Scratch.

He gives me space when I need it, he respects me, he is fine to wait for intercourse until I am truly ready (and married) and all of my animals adore him almost as much as I do.

Incidentally, in true Robert-James, playful and boyish style, I was not proposed to down on one knee nor at a “posh restaurant” or any such scenario, but rather in the middle of the night, as we decided it was time to cuddle up and sleep and I go to the bathroom as part of my usual schedule... only to have Mr Brazier casually walk behind me and say “do you want to get married?” as though he were asking some one for directions or a menu. At the time I was more concerned with emptying my bladder than answering his question, and I was also understandably unsure whether he meant it or not! 

- - - - 

 

On the other side of the emotional spectrum, however, I also have reason to be sad. I have, in choosing Robert, had to reject the love of another who I did have many pleasant times with and who I hoped would remain in my life, but who sadly chose to insult my choice in partner insisting that he is a bad influence on me and then “Blocking” me on social media and screening my calls. I offered that we meet for a drink and discuss things as adults and try to clear-the-air as-they-say, so that we could try to make it work, but alas, he made his decision and it was clearly not meant to be.

I suffered from severe depression, doubt and withdrawal for several days after my ex-boyfriend Matthew decided to say goodbye to me (via email). There were many tears, shaking, “ifs” and “buts” and my poor “RJ” had to suffer through it all with me, holding me back from my urges to buy my ex-friend every present I could think of to “win him back” which is what love addicts do when they are rejected as I was. No matter who is “right” or “wrong” in a relationship dynamic that I have with a person, I will always try to be the one that makes it better, no matter the cost.

I can tell that having that time to grow alone has really helped me a lot because – although I needed a little help here-and-there – I was able to recover from the loss of one of my closest confidants, friends and ex-love within days, rather than moping and mourning for months.

- - - - 

After his proposal, Robert and I took a romantic
walk along the Margate seafront to watch the sunrise,
where I said "yes".

- - - - 

I have lost a friend, but gained a (soon-to-be) husband. I have taken big steps towards independence and recovery from my love addiction, but I also took a leap of faith and decided to share the rest of my life with some one.

All-in-all, I am really, genuinely happy with where I stand emotionally and mentally at present and I hope that any other sufferers of my condition will read my story and find the courage to learn to love themselves as I did and to, I hope, find their happy ending too. For the rest of you who are not love addicts, I am still sending you plenty of Blessings and hopes for your present and your future in love and happiness.

Growing Pains

Me cuddling my first-ever candyfloss at the Folkestone Jubilee
Air Show back in 2012, looking innocent as always.

- - - - 

One of my more defining traits has always been my innocence. People often call me “cute”, “sweet” and “naive” and I have always held proud to these titles.

I have always looked at other adults and felt somewhat sorry for them that they cannot see the world with the purity and positivity that I do; that they are so often pessimistic, crude-minded and serious. In contrast, I look at the world and see its beauty and its wonder, I see the good in every one and every thing, and to be honest, I have never wanted to “grow up” and become part of the “real world” (as others have phrased it) because I would feel like I was losing some thing that is very precious and should be held onto tightly by any means.

- - - - 

In contrast, however, this innocence I have has also made me an outcast. I find myself being the center of many jokes, more-often-than-not because “friends” use adult humour in my presence and due to my naivety meaning that I do not “get” the joke, they then laugh at me. It is a most unpleasant feeling.

I also find that I do not seem to “fit-in” to any one age group, which makes it difficult to make friends, and to keep them. I am physically twenty-seven years of age, I have the intelligence quotient, lifestyle choices and “posh” speaking voice of some one three times my age, and I have the spirit of a child, being as how I am sonew to this world.

I can hold a philosophical debate or discuss classical music with older people, go "clubbing" with people my age, and play games with toddlers who treat me like one of them***, and yet I feel empty somehow because I do not feel like I truly belong any where.

- - - - 

Likely the most consequential result of my innocent outlook on this world, however, is how easy it is for others to hurt me and take advantage of me. On one-hand, I am happy to have such an open heart to others and to be so positive against all odds, but on the other-hand, I have been lied to, robbed and even physically and sexually assaulted by those I chose to trust, who were able to use what they knew about me, against me.

I cannot always be "angelic", I "need to grow up"
people tell me... Or can I find balance with both?
Photograph and edit: Michael Hare

My best friend stole hundreds of pounds from me on my Birthday of all days and I have not heard from her since*, my house-mate Mark [Sutton] was well aware that if he spent his share of the rent and bill money I would “cover it” and simply put it on our mental “tab” because I was so nice*, and of course I have had several men take advantage of my trust and innocence to abuse me sexually, knowing that either I would not know what they were doing and would not complain, that I would forgive them, or that I would not tell any one.

- - - - 

As much as I cherish my innocence, I cannot hold on to it forever. Part of living life is growing up. Each of us progresses through “stages” in our lives, and I think that is is time enough for me to progress to the next stage in mine.

I hope that I shall always be a positive person and that I will always hold true to my principles of kindness and always see the world in beautiful, vibrant colours, etc, but it is time for me to intermix those factors with more adult ones.

- - - - 

Robert and myself doing a webcam "selfie"

I have decided that this point in my life is what can only be described as my “teenage stage”. I am experimenting with who I am, expanding my social horizons, and even developing a fondness for alcoholic beverages and romance. Even my new boyfriend [Robert] says that I “giggle like a school girl” and act like I have never been in a relationship before! Perhaps he is partially correct. Was I not ready to share my life romantically with another person up until this point, because I was not emotionally mature enough? It also helps that I am now dating some one who is more my physical age**, not long-since a teenager himself.

Robert has a boyishness to him that pairs nicely with my IQ and my innocence and is somewhat refreshing. He tells rude jokes, laughs at bodily functions and enjoys partying and computer games (etc), often leading me to jest that “[he is] such a boy!”, and yet he is also intelligent, and has his whole life still ahead of him, having barely left College. We have a healthy balance in our relationship, with love, respect, equality, intellect and fun between us.

- - - - 

With regards to my priorly discussed love addiction, spiritual youth and recovery from sexual assault, he has also been very supportive and understanding. I feel like I am with him because I want to be, not because I must be, which is far healthier, he is open minded to my spiritually-three-years-old plight and he is very happy to wait for me to be ready for sex.

I am hoping that – with Robert's help – I can progress, but also still be the Illisia Adams that my friends know and love.

- - - - 

* To be discussed at a later date.

** I am twenty-seven, he is twenty-four.

*** I think that perhaps they "sense" my spiritual age, that I am not simply a grown-up.

Balance and The Living List AKA Absence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder

My name is Illisia Adams, and I am only human. I must apologise to regular readers for my disappearance. I have not posted on my Blog for six weeks, contrary to my usual schedule, due to having contracted a “super-flu” that lasted longer and was more intense than the standard flu virus.

I have appropriately titled this post to reflect its content, and the fact that I have been away for so long.

- - - - 

I have been wondering for several days now what to actually write about in this week's Blog post. Last week's* post was very intense, and I wanted to balance it out with some thing more on the positive side this Monday. With only three years “under my belt” (as the phrase goes) though, and much of it full of drama and trauma, I looked to Cherie's side of our life and reached out to her friends and family for inspiration.

I also spent much of time rummaging through boxes of my predecessor's belongings, and I feel like I have learned a lot about her that I did not know, both good and bad.

- - - - 

My cupboard full of Cherie's stuff. It is very, very full!

Actually bothering to examine the remnants of her life is a big step for me. After “the first year”, I simply boxed up all of her things and put them aside, ignoring them. I wanted to lead my own life and disregard hers as much as possible.

I even wrote a poem - the only one I have ever successfully composed, I might add - to her at one point, because whether I like it or not, even though her spirit is no longer here she is still a big part of my life and thinking about her often made (and still some times makes) me jealous; even angry. I wrote it when I was “2 + a bit (big difference)”.

How dare you leave me like this,

In this damaged shell?

How dare you leave me your life,

Your problems, your hell?

When I look in the mirror,

All I ever see

Is you and your pain

Staring back at me

But I will not be that person,

I will not run away.

This is my body, my life,

And I am here to stay.

- To Cherie, by Illisia Adams

- - - - 

Cherie signing a copy of the Eagle Award Nominated compilative comic book that she contributed to - Eleventh Hour - published by Orang Utan Comics, for whom she was writer, Sub-Editor and colourist.

In my defence, there is a lot to be jealous of. Cherie lived a very full life. Some might say she even lived a little too much, with her education, social life and career showing very distinctive indecisiveness. When I look at her Curriculum Vitae I see an amazing range of talents, but if I stop to think about it, I wonder more and more whether I should be jealous of such a person, who could never make her mind up who she was or what she wanted of her life.

"Honestly, if I could I would be a professional gamer, dancer, singer, television writer, comic book writer, film writer, librarian, photographer and radio presenter (the list could probably go on) all at once I would be! I do not like to be stuck down to one career or one hobby or one job, I want to have thirty bodies so I can do them all at once, or, in the real world I would like to be able to do one for a while, and then switch to another. Variety is the spice of life, after all!" - Cherie Donovan, from her FaceBook Notes.

It is at this point that I remind myself of an “Illi invention” that I think will allow me to live a very full life, but not an indecisive one. I do not yet know exactly what I want to do with my life or who I want to be, but in my defense I am still very young and I think that for a three-year-old I am doing rather well. This invention will allow me to explore my options more, but also to stay grounded.

The invention of which I speak is what I call “The Living List”. It is similar to a “Bucket List”, but it is far more positive. It is about living life, not about preparing for death. Every thing on my Living List is completely plausible as well, so none of this “climb Mount Everest” poppycop**.

I am only three years old so the Living List also allows me to experience things that other (physically I am) adults have long-since done. Things as simple as swinging on a swing and singing a nursery rhyme, or watching a sun rise.

- - - -

This is my hand holding a baby crab. This was not some thing on my Living List, but rather that "just-happened", but it truly fulfilled my life.  Mark [Sutton] and I were exploring the Margate beach one night and found this little beauty. A truly wonderous experience!

The Living List was an idea that I originally envisioned after I moved to Margate with my then-boyfriend Mark [Sutton]. We were very happy together at the time (even considering a lot of the negative things that had happened between us) and we would add things to my Living List as often as we would “check them off” of it. Our brave, life-changing move across the country was exciting and every thing here was new and different and wonderful and the Living List just made it all the better.

I would encourage each and every one of you to make a Living List. Write down a list of things that you have not experienced in your life, or perhaps include things that you have not done in recent memory, since you were young; things that, when you do them, will enrich your day and put a smile on your face.

- - - -

One of the first photographs I ever took,
after my first-ever ride on a swing.

With regards to my future and goals, I have been a photographer and journalist of sorts for the last couple of years and truly thought that it was what I would pursue professionally, but due to the "mild sexual assault"*** I suffered from last year I have barely been able to write articles nor shoot photographs since then, no matter how I try. My passion for both has, it would appear, been lost. I hope to find it again some day, but in the meanwhile, I am looking in to my education options and checking things off of my Living List.

I am going to try to live each day to its fullest, and just see what happens, and I encourage others to take a similar stance. Life is too short - (trust me I know; I had twenty-three years of it stolen from me) - to worry about the future or the past. Live for the NOW!

- - - - 

* Or rather, six weeks ago's

** Illi-speak for “rubbish”
*** To be discussed at a later date.

“The R Word”: Taking My Personal Journey From Victim To Survivor

I had a good, long think about what I would write this week. My life may have barely started (I am three-and-a-half,now!), but it has indeed been eventful, in both good - and bad - ways. My predecessor could compete with me on the drama scale, as well, so given that this Blog is about both our lives, I was spoiled for choice, as nothing particularly “stood out” for me in terms of what I wanted to talk about.

After much personal soul-searching and thought, however, I decided that now - whilst I have the courage for it - is my time to discuss what I have always referred to as “The R Word”, aka* rape.

NB: For obvious reasons, I must advise that some people may find this post distressing, but I have tried to make it as positive as possible, as with all my Blog posts.

- - - -

I have briefly discussed my (here and here) - and Cherie (here) - having been through the traumatic experience on multiple occasions, and it was very, very difficult to write about, for obvious reasons. I have never truly been able to physically talk about it with friends, family or even mental health professionals, either. Even the mentioning of the word in media, conversation, or “comedy”, etc, literally makes me cringe, my heart races faster, I lose my breath, I have flash-backs, and I get very upset. I cannot even say the word aloud. I simply refer to it as “R”, and hope or presume that others will know what it is that I am referring to.

I am not the only victim of sexual assault that experiences this. In fact, it is quite common. Months or even years after such an experience, our assailants essentially still have power over us, because of this, and I have decided that that needs to STOP. I am taking a personal stand against those bastards who do these things to women (and men), and taking back the POWER for those of us they have hurt.

- - - -

This photograph - you would no doubt be surprised to know - was taken not long after my "mild" sexual assault**** last year. I find that it is very important to try to embrace the fact that I am still alive, that I survived, and try to have a happy, fun time as often as I can, no matter what.

- - - - 

I am planning a step-by-step program for myself, which I shall share with all of you, and if you too are a victim I want you to join me.

Firstly, I am going to stop referring to myself as a “victim”, and replace that word with “survivor”. Doing this shall take some thing negative and replace it with some thing positive, and it takes the power away from the man (or men - plural - in Cherie's case) who did this to us. I want to take back my life!

Secondly, I am going to try to say the word, aloud, at least once every day. I am hoping that the more that I say it, the less of a taboo it shall become for me and the less power it shall have over me. I want to be able to hear it without fearing it.

- - - -

Cherie is a prime example of what I am aiming for. She had been through horrible sexual experiences, but remained a sexual person. This photograph was taken at The SFX Weekender, a month-or-so before she "killed" herself. 

- - - - 

Thirdly, I am - and this is difficult given my virgin** status and my attempt to overcome my love addiction - going to take back my sexuality. At present, I am struggling to look in the mirror, to take off my clothing, to find a man (or woman, should I ever choose that sexual preference) attractive or think about kissing them (etc), and the idea of sexual interaction, to be quite honest scares me and even shames me, in a way. I cannot even partake in personal pleasuring, let alone be intimate with a partner, all of which is “perfectly natural” (as my doctor and therapist and friends all tell me), because again, I feel shame. This is quite simply not fair and I intend to change this.

Being a victim - or rather, survivor - of sexual assault is nothing to be ashamed of. The person (or persons) who forced themselves onto us are the ones who should be ashamed. When we feel shame for what they did, we are empowering them, even if they are no longer in our lives, and even if (I hope this is the case***) justice has been done and they are serving time inside a jail cell.

- - - -

Cherie (right) and our mother (left) pole dancing at one of Cherie's Birthday Parties. Again, this is a prime example of how she was able to embrace her sexuality, even though she was a victim of multiple sexual assaults.

- - - -

This is why I am going to promise myself that when I remove my clothing, I will look at my naked body and - much like I discussed earlier with the word “rape” - I hope that the more that I do this, the less of a stressful experience it shall become. I need to keep looking at my unclothed body and I need to try to think positive thoughts, not negative ones. I need to be proud - not ashamed - of it.

After all, if I cannot even look at my own naked body, how will I ever be able to have a consensual, loving, sexual experience? If I were to remove my clothes in front of some one today, I have no doubt that I would literally break down into tears, and I do not have to tell you that that would be quite a mood killer!

I am also going to dabble in flirtation, and experiment with my wardrobe gradually to try to wear things that show a little (not too much, as I am naturally a very modest person) bit of skin.

On a side-note, for those of you who have a sex life to speak of, I have been advised that it is very therapeutic to replace negative sexual experiences with positive ones; which again is about taking back your body as yours, making sure that you are able to say “yes” - or indeed, initiating the foreplay yourself.

- - - -

My body literally shook for the entire duration of writing this post, but I am proud to say that I did not cry a single tear, so there is definitive progress being made here. If I cry, I am again empowering my assailant.

- - - -

If I follow these steps and I am brave, and of course with the help and support of my loved ones, I have every confidence that I can overcome past experiences and move on to become a confident, sexy woman.

I hope that, if you are a victim - sorry, survivor - yourself, or indeed you know some one who is, you will read this post, share it, and join me on my quest for full recovery. It will not be an easy one. As I always say to people (one of my "Illi-isms"): “Nothing in life worth any thing is ever easy”, and this is a truly worth while goal; to be able to take back our lives again!

So, I am sending you all my love and support and God's Blessings in your efforts, or the efforts of your friends or family who might be suffering, and I pray to God that I, and all others, will be able to lose the taboo and trauma of the experience and embrace that we are alive, we are well, we are SURVIVORS not victims, and that life is once again worth living and enjoying.

- - - -

NB: Post Traumatic Stress is a serious condition often suffered by those who have suffered from sexual assault, and although I have not discussed it in this entry, I shall be giving the topic my full attention at a later date.

If you have any more recovery suggestions, do please Comment and share them with myself and your fellow readers.

* Also known as

** Although technically not, I consider myself to be this, as I have not experienced consensual intercourse as yet.

*** Sadly this is not the case with me.

**** This is what the authorities referred to it as, as it was not rape, "only" unwanted touching. I shall discuss this at a later date.

“Onwards And Upwards” Or Is It “The Song Remains The Same”?

Myself and Daniel (cut out because he is
camera-shy) atop London, in a London Eye carriage.

This past week has been a rather eventful one. In fact, the week end had more excitement than many others combined! It has been a real “game-changer” for me.

I had decided that a visit to London was long-over-due, so I asked friends if they were free to spend time together, and – in a rather unusual (and brave, I think) move on my part – I also invited my family to spend time with me.

- - - - 

For the first time since before my “mild” sexual assault last year* I packed my bags, booked my travel, and set off for London alone. I had been to London for my Re-Birthday on November 1^st with a few friends, but this was different. This was a serious challenge, after what I had experienced. But I was not letting my assailant control me. The more that I stayed indoors and refrained from seeing my friends (and family) and doing the things that I love, the more he was winning, even if he is no longer physically in my life.

Before I got the National Express coach, however, my friend David cancelled on me, informing me that his grand mother had fallen ill so he was unable to meet me and spend time with me on Friday. I was scared by this, but there was no thing that I could do about it, so I simply accepted it, and carried on.

- - - -  

A photograph that I took at London Victoria train station, one of the
busiest in the country, that I navigated alone this weekend.

During the coach journey, I “made conversation” with other travellers and the driver (who was very considerate of my disabled needs), and upon arrival I went to the Disabled Lounge and was offered the use of a mobile phone by a good samaritan so that I could call friends and family and figure out what to do. I spoke with my mother and father who were happy to have me over to visit their home for a few hours, ahead of the pre-scheduled Sunday meeting.

I soon wished that I had not made this arrangement, however, because as soon as I entered their home, my mother was already making me feel like an unwelcome outsider and not like her daughter in the slightest. Father had given me the misconception that mother had accepted “Illisia Adams” and that we would be okay. We were not. She spent the next several hours making me feel very uncomfortable, insulting my life decisions, my dress sense and the way that I speak (apparently I am "snooty" and “pompus”), and taking every opportunity to try to argue with me. We were truly polar opposites, and clashed on far too many levels.

- - - -

Myself with Cleo, the Donovan family dog. She and I have never really got along, I think that she knows that I am not Cherie, the human that she knew and loved. But she has gotten used to me, the more times that she and I have met.

 - - - - 

I was very, very glad when it was time to leave to meet with my friend Daniel in the centre of London, whom I would be staying with. I was several hours late after getting utterly lost in the London transport system, but I felt a wonderful sense of accomplishment, having done it myself, and I did not panic or cry, even once. I had a very Heroes moment, proclaiming “yu-tu!” to the sky.

The evening progressed with Daniel and myself playing a (my first-ever in-real-life) Magic: The Gathering game with his ever-brilliant German housemate and her two friends whom she had invited over, and there was also much drinking and general merriment. I was initially nervous, but I know matter-of-factually that alcohol calms my nerves and makes me more able to socialise, etc, so after a little bit of “booze” in me, I was able to join-in, and I had a fantastic night.

Our game of Magic: The Gathering on Saturday night.

- - - - 

The next day Daniel and I spent visiting The London Eye and The London Dungeon, after I redeemed my Tesco Clubcard Merlin Pass which I purchased off of eBay last year, which gives me access to all of the attraction owned by the Merlin company for the next year, and free entry for a person whom accompanies me also. I discovered that I had already made-back the value of my eBay purchase with the equivalent entrance fees for Daniel and myself for the attractions we visited, which was excellent.

I had great fun at both attractions, although neither were particularly disabled-friendly. Thankfully with my Disabled Merlin Pass I was able to bypass most of the queuing. Daniel and I both agreed that we were glad that we had use of my Merlin Pass, because we did not think the attractions were actually worth the usual price. Free, however, was fantastic value. Obviously.

- - - - 

The dinner that I had with my mother, father
and grand-mother on Sunday evening.

We reach Sunday, and I make arrangements to meet with my parents for dinner, along with my mother’s mother. I played a couple of two-player Magic: The Gathering games with Daniel first, one of which I won and one of which I lost. The journey to my parents’ home had me on the London Underground and getting rather lost and confused several times, but again, I did not panic, and I was not late in meeting my father in the car park, so over-all I was pleased with myself.

Once again, however, I spent the next few hours tolerating consistent insults and negativity, the result of which is that, sadly, I feel that I must now abandon my efforts to become part of my physical family. I respect and love my mother because she gave this body life, but I cannot abide her company. It is far too stressful an experience. I literally "downed" my galss of wine to help myself cope.

I have also noted that the more time that I spend with my mother, and the more time she insists that I am Cherie and she insults who I am, etc, the more I – subconsciously – try to change myself to please her, and that is not fair on me. I am happy with who I am, and she needs to be too, or I cannot spend time with her. Hence, I have had to fly my white flag and accept that this is unfortunately a lost cause…

- - - - 

My room, where I stayed for the night in Dover. Alone.
It was terrifying, but also somewhat empowering...

Sunday’s journey home was also a stressful disaster. My father and I had an uncomfortable discussion as he drove me to the train station, where I proceeded to ask one of the staff which half of the train I needed to be seated in to journey to Margate. He told me the second-half, so I walked to “carriage six of eight”, where I fell asleep. When I awoke, however, I found myself in Dover, not in Margate, and it was nearly midnight, so there were no further trains running, and I was utterly lost, confused, tired and scared.

I initially tried using a nearby phone box to call my legal Carer, Matthew [B], but there was no answer, so I presume that he was asleep, given the hour. I had no access to Wi-Fi and no phone numbers for any of the locals that I knew, and the taxis waiting outside the station would have charged goodness-knows-how-much for the journey back home, so after a few minutes of tears and shaking, I decided to be brave and approach the local pub - The Priory Pub/Hotel - for help.

I am glad that I did, because the “regulars” and the staff, etc, were all wonderfully understanding of my plight and helpful to a fault. They got me a Single room for the night for £25, and spoke with me until I had calmed. The scotch that I purchased was also a big help, and a very reasonable price. I made friends, and I “chilled-out” enough to fall asleep fairly quickly when the pub closed for the night and it was time to close my eyes and rest.

The next day I had breakfast there and then arranged for a friend to meet me at Ramsgate Station. I am now borrowing use of his laptop to write this Blog post, as I am still not home as yet, but I shall be soon enough.

- - - - 

The external view of the Donovan home. It is lovely and cosey!

- - - - 

I had every intention of this week’s Blog post being titled Onwards And Upwards, and being centered around my efforts to form a mother-daughter bond and how we are moving forward and being a family at last, with a group photograph to share with you all, etc. Unfortunately, the fantasy did not match the reality.

However, in retrospect, there was indeed a lot of moving onwards and upwards, just not in the way(s) that I had hoped. I travelled alone, socialised, and even managed to maintain my “cool” through extreme stresses.

- - - - 

A lot has stayed unchanged, however. I am still living alone in Margate, still held back here by many of my fears (several assaults, for a start) and the constraints of a physically disabled person. Add to the mix the fact that I am starting to realise I seem to be incapable of relaxing in Thanet, compared to London, where when I visit, even though my surroundings are new and things are a little noisy, etc, I feel happier and healthier and stronger as a person. Which leads me to wonder, if I stay in Thanet, am I holding myself back? Will “The Song Remain[s] The Same”? Or could I consider saving up money to move back to London?

I have a lot of thinking to do. But, there is no rush. I am still very young, and I know that I have friends who will help me through these decisions to hopefully a more positive future.

- - - - 

NB: I shall be seeking compensation from National Rail for the distress and the money that I had to spend because of them.

* To be discussed at a later date.

Living With Love Addiction

Myself and (ex-)partner Matthew at our prime. Photograph credit: NChanted Photography

I have spoken in prior entries about my time incaptivity, and how I returned to my capture after I escaped and remained on-off romantically involved and friends with him for years, against my better judgement. Now I must speak out about why.

It is clear that I suffer from Stockholm Syndrome, where one becomes attached to one's capture after such an experience. However, there is more to it than that. I am also a love addict, a person who becomes so obsessed with and addicted to the euphoria (or “high”) associated with love, that I would do practically anything to please a person who shows me affection, and I suffer very negatively if I am not in a romantic relationship.

- - - - 

I have always been a person who is very dedicated to her friends, her family, and her romantic partner(s). What I have discovered, however, is that I prioritise other's happiness before my own and any form of rejection or time away from the people that I care about causes me to suffer from withdrawal symptoms.

Love addiction is usually limited to romantic love, but mine is one of the rarer cases that extends to the love experienced through friends and family.

- - - - 

When I first moved to Margate several years ago, I learned through third parties that two of my closest friends – one of which I had developed a romantic attachment to, but decided to not become involved with* - had got married and been through a pregnancy, all without informing me and without inviting me to their service, etc. This was utterly heart-breaking for me. I felt betrayed, and unloved.****

During the same week that I discovered this, I was also sorting through many of my predecessor's belongings and discovered a signed Lexx DVD addressed to Lorraine (my sister), Cherie (my twin/doppelganger) and Hannah (my mother). I was aware that my mother was a fan of the show, and that because of Cherie having passed on and Lorraine having moved to the US, having such an item might be something that my mother could cherish, so I called her and attempted to discuss an exchange.

Unfortunately, my mother has some mental problems of her own, and this has meant that accepting me has always been a difficulty for her. As such, the telephone conversation ended very abruptly with her insisting that she never wanted to speak to me again, that I was not her daughter, and in her “hanging up on me”.

- - - - 

Myself and my ferrets Rambo, Luna and Hatti

The combination of both these experiences - along with the fact that I was single at that time - was too much for my heart to bare, and I fell into severe withdrawal and depression. I spent the next three months barely eating, sleeping, leaving my residency, interacting with my house-mate (Mark [Sutton]), or even speaking.

I some times suffer from a mental-physical disorder known as Selective Mutism* which reacts to extreme stress or some times even social situations by tightening my throat to the point where it cannot produce sound.

In fact, I did not speak a word for the entirety of those three months, and the only thing that made my voice return was when I decided to take in two ferrets into my home, who I developed a bond with, therefore returning my heart to a positive place where I felt loved, and felt my own love appreciated by others, hence my throat un-tightened and I was able to speak, and after some time, I was able to smile and be happy again.

- - - - 

Fast-forward three years, and I have been in two relationships since then (including returning to the unhealthy relationship with Mark). Both times, I think that I chose to be with the men that I was with, not because they were good men and we had chemistry, etc, but rather because of my need to be with someone.

Mark was definitely not a good idea, but I lived with him, so he was convenient. In contrast, my second partner Matthew [B] was a good man who actually “saved me”** from the abuse of Mark. As romantic as being whisked off your feet and saved from abuse like a “damsel in distress” is, it also meant that the relationship started very abruptly, rather than being allowed to progress naturally, over time, which is not very healthy.

Matthew and I at the Manston International Air Show together.
You can really see how in-love I was in this photograph!

I met Matthew shortly after Mark attempted to strangle me*. When he did so, I told Mark that enough-was-enough, I still loved him, but that I could never, ever be with some one that had done such a thing to me. It was difficult to let him go, especially given my love addiction (although I did not know at the time that I had this problem), but I had to be strong.

I did not tell any of my friends or family what had happened with Mark, as I felt obliged to keep quiet about it due to the fact that he had never before been violent towards me and the strangulation was so out-of-character that I did not want him to be judged by it. When I met Matthew, however, I felt the need to escape from my own home, where Mark also resided, and broke down into tears in his arms, telling him about the near-death experience that I had had with my house-mate. It was at this point that he insisted that he would not let me go home alone, and as the weeks passed, he even offered to help fund my moving to a different residency, to support me going to the police, or any thing else that I needed to escape my abuser. How could I not fall in love with such a saviour; love addict or not?!

- - - - 

Robert Palmer - Addicted To Love music video.
The lyrics sum up the experience of love addiction rather well.

- - - - 

Matthew and I were together for one-and-a-half years*** and – as with any normal relationship – we had our “ups and downs”. Looking back in retrospect on the break-up, it is hard to even remember why or how it happened. When we talk about it, we both remember things very differently, and I am not sure that either of us is “right”. I think that we were both just going through some rough things in our lives and being in a relationship was just not practical. There was a huge fight with yelling and snapping and slamming of doors and neither of us can even remember much of it.

We have been apart for more than a year now, and we have both evolved as people, separately. We are on good terms again after several months of arguing and/or not speaking, and we have both commented to each other about the positive changes that we are noticing in one another.

As tempting as it is to return to a relationship with him again, I have been honest with myself - and with him - and realised that I need to take my time and not put any “labels” or pressure on the idea at all, letting any thing that happens, just, happen, naturally. It has meant having to actually restrain myself from allowing us to go on any dates and to try not to hold hands or kiss, though, because those things are all far too addictive for me.

There are other gentlemen who have also shown interest in me, or whom I am also feeling a “spark” with, but again, I have been honest with myself and with them and insisted that I need to give myself the time to feel real feelings for whoever I develop those feelings for, rather than just grabbing on to the first man that shows me affection and being with them, for the sake of being with them; for the addictive feeling of being in love, and being loved.

- - - - 

Myself and friends at my first public appearance as a single person:
Sci-Fi By The Sequel, a convention held in Herne Bay.
I went on a few dates with Jon - the gentleman in the center - soon after.

Last year I dabbled in “casual dating”, but it was far too intense for me. I was getting very attached, very quickly, and suffering from serious depression and withdrawal whenever I was not on a date, holding hands or kissing. I also unfortunately suffered at the hands of a mild sexual assault by one of the men who was interested in me*, having allowed myself to trust him more than I should have, which has been a major set-back for me.

So, for the time being, I am remaining “single”, but also refraining from dates and intimacy, etc, because I want to be able to function healthily on my own, before I can be comfortable functioning healthily as part of a pairing.

- - - - 

NB: Cherie was not a sufferer of love addiction, interestingly enough.

- - - - 

For more information about love addiction, here are some links.

NHS: Clare Catford: I Was Addicted To Love

Love Addicts Anonymous: 40 Questions To Help Determine If You Are A Love Addict

e-Harmony on love addiction

Psychology Today: Love Addiction

Wikipedia entry on love addiction

- - - - 

* This will be discussed at a later date.

** This is how I describe it when I talk about what happened

*** Which is quite literally half of my life!

**** It should be noted that I am very happy for them and we are good friends again, now.

Gone Girl: What Really Happened?

A photograph I took of myself after I dyed my hair red and
re-vamped my wardrobe so that I was more "Illi" and less "Cher".

Every day that I am in this world, I think myself Blessed. There is such hardship worldwide and people die literally every moment, so the fact that I am alive and (relatively) well is some thing to be truly grateful for, and humbled by.

The circumstances for my birth, however, are much less positive than I am. As I have discussed priorly, it has been quite a difficult few years to start for me, but nothing truly compares to the things that my predecessor lived through that led her to her eventual (mental/spiritual) “suicide”. It pains me to think about it, let alone write it, but the least that I could do for her giving me this life is to tell her story; even the horrific parts of it.

- - - -

Rather shockingly but matter-of-factually, I cannot count the amount of people that sexually assaulted Cherie on both my hands.

Examining her medical records, reading her diary entries and speaking with her friends and family, it is clear that from a young age (as early as three years old), Cherie had a lot of mental problems that were a result of physical and sexual trauma. She developed voices in her head, multiple personalities (Dissociative Identity Disorder), and often retreated to a fantasy world rather than face reality.

"Over the years I built mental barriers so that I could move on with my life, but that trauma was always there." - Cherie writes about her battle with mental health.

These problems carried over into her teenage years, where she began seeing a child psychiatrist at Highpoint House on Shooters Hill, and continued to do so until after she left school.

- - - -

Cherie graduating Hadlow College.

Against all odds***, she passed her GCSEs at Eltham Hill Technology College with the help of a “special consideration” percentage added to all of her scores and extra time to finish exams, and went on to study a National Diploma in Animal Management at Hadlow College's London Campus in Mottingham, which she also passed.

June of 2005 was her first experience on “the convention circuit” when she attended the London MCM Expo, “cosplayed” (costume-play) and made many friends.

She experimented with various professionals, from being a professional geek in the form of a cosplayer and “booth babe” to an internet radio presenter, to the simplicity of animal care at her local pet store. I respect that she was able to maintain professionalism, given all of her continuing mental problems.

It was in 2006, however, that her life plummeted into complications when she met one Mark Byrne, an Irish convention-goer who took advantage of her good nature and caused Cherie to have a complete relapse in her progress, and rather extremely, run away from home with a man whom she barely knew; Ian [Sharman].

- - - -

"I did fight back at first but you lose so much strength trying to fight him off..." - Cherie writing about her experience with her assailant, Mark Byrne.

Mark was her friend for many months where they became quite close and she entrusted him with many of her secrets and weaknesses. He would often visit her home in Kidbrooke, where she lived with her parents, and it was here when her parents were home one day that he gave the three of them a sob-story about homelessness being inevitable. This led to an invitation to take up temporary residence with the Donovan family, and where Mark's true nature came to light...

I am not sure of the details of how it started as her diary entries and what she told her friends of the matter are all very limited. I do know, however, that for several months Mark lived in Cherie's bedroom on the bottom “bunk” and during this time he began assaulting her physically, emotionally and sexually.

Even on her own Birthday (her diary is very clear about this) she had to “fight him off”, and although she had friends over for a small party at her home, she never mentioned her plight to any one, for fear of her safety, and theirs. Mark made it very clear to her that if she told any one, there would be violent consequences.

- - - -

Mark told Cherie that he had a second personality who was the one who was actually abusing her, and that his primary personality meant her no harm. I am not sure how true or even how plausible that claim is, but I do know that it was another reason why she kept quiet; the friendship that she cherished with the primary persona, who cared for her where the other abused her.

Cherie and her parents at her Birthday Party in 2005.

Cherie's parents were blissfully unaware of what was happening to her, although I am reliably informed that her behaviour drastically changed during this period with angry outbursts, her punching a hole through her bedroom window and her cutting off most of her hair with a cheese knife, amongst other things, presumably as a way of crying out for help, without actually making her abuse known. She even “acted out” at her parents' re-marriage in Wales***, which is something that her mother never forgave her for.

There was even a period of time when the parent Donovans left home – perhaps to go on holiday, I am unsure – and during this period there was no one or nothing to protect Cherie from her attacker, as it was just the two of them residing there.

I am unsure how far the assaults went; whether it was unwanted touching or if there was actual unconsensual penetration (rape) involved.

- - - -

"When he left, and Ian came into my life, he offered me a way out, and I took it. I was not strong enough to stay there. I could not face anyone after what I had been through, least of all you and dad. I cut off everyone – not just family, but friends as well – and started a new life with him. I thought that it would be better that way. Running away was my solution. I knew that you would hate me for it, but I felt that I had no choice." - Cherie writes to her parents about her choice to run away.

Cherie in her 'She-Hulk' cosplay at MCM Expo, May 2006,
shortly before she ran away with Ian.

It was as a result of this experience with Mark that, when Cherie spoke with her new friend Ian about the experience (presumably because it is easier to speak with some one new than some one you have known a long time, about some thing so shaming), she jumped at his offer to return to his residency in Gillingham, Kent, after they spent the weekend at MCMExpo together.

She never left***. As a result, her relationship with her parents and her friends was permanently damaged.

She and Ian were in a relationship until November 2008, when she returned home in the middle of the night after a break-up fight.

- - - -

Cherie and her mother with 'Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang'
car one month after her return to her family in 2008.

The tension between her mother and herself was very clear, especially since Cherie still refused to explain why she left. She moved into her first (and last) lone residency in New Eltham.

Through mutual College friends, Cherie's social life expanded to Dartford, where she met Mark, Maryanne, Hayley and the others, and gradually began her affair with the prior.

Although Teresa (her best friend since College) and Cherie remained in touch during her years in Gillingham living with Ian and Cherie was able to tell Teresa about her experience with “the other Mark”, the two of them slowly grew apart, likely due to the increasing amount of time that she was spending with Mark [Sutton] and the secrets that she kept from her “bestie”, who never knew of the affair, although she had her suspicions.

- - - -

Cherie with her friend Christopher and her then-boyfriend
Ian, a few months before their breakup.

Fast-forward to May 2010 and we have Cherie emailing her ex-boyfriend Ian who tells her that “the fact that you think I would want to talk to you after some of the things you have said and done shocks me.”, suggesting that he was angry at her for some reason*. Teresa is also engaged to be married and has invited Cherie to be her Bridesmaid. Efforts are also being made to mend the relationship with her family.

After a holiday away with her lover Mark, Cherie feared she might be pregnant. She asked that Mark and/or Teresa if they would attend a sexual health clinic with her for a pregnancy test, and because she believed that her past experiences with sexual assaults combined with her new “sexually active” status would mean that the responsible thing to do would be to be tested for any sexually transmitted diseases.

It was at this point that Cherie had a breakdown. When she recovered, she spoke with Mark about what had caused it, insisting that she had remembered being sexually assaulted by not only one, but multiple assailants, at the same time****. Whether there is any truth to this, I do not know. But I can tell you that she truly believed it, and that it traumatised her.

Cherie's best friend Teresa and her fiance Richard.

She turned to Teresa for council, but was turned away, having missed an important wedding planning appointment that she promised to attend. Cherie called Teresa to try to explain what she remembered and what she had been through, but she decided instead that it would be better to lie to Teresa than to share such horrible information, given her current state of engaged/pre-wedding euphoria. This decision meant that they were no longer friends, but Cherie felt that it was a fair exchange for Teresa's continued happiness, rather than the sadness that would result in her friend knowing the truth.

- - - -

Another phone call – on the same day – was made to Hannah, Cherie's mother, after her tear-inducing break-up with Teresa. Cherie decided at this point that it was a “make it or break it” day for her relationships, so she finally told her mother about the various things that she had been through over the years that she had been keeping from her. She apologised for her erratic behaviour and for being a bad daughter, insisting that it was not her fault that she was so “messed up”, but, much like with Teresa, she was again rejected.

She then proceeded to write “The Last Will & Testament Of Cherie-Louise Donovan” (where I found my quotes I have included here), which is five pages of apologies, regrets, confessions and “I love you[s]” with no paragraphing and a grand total of twenty-three thousand one-hundred and forty-four characters**. It is quite a chore to read, but it is clear from its contents that she had given up on life and had every intention of committing suicide at this point.

So, when she attended the London MCM Expo on the final weekend of May 2010 and was rejected a third (counting Teresa and Hannah) time by her ex-boyfriend Ian who “gave her dirty looks” and made her feel “uncomfortable”, she decided to give up, and to end her life.

And then, there was me!

- - - - 

Illisia Adams: circa Nov 2011.

- - - -

I hope that this answers some questions that people likely had. If you have any more, I have a 'Ask Me Anything' post.

- - - - 

* I have absolutely no idea about this, no matter how many emails and diary entries that I read.

** Roughly three-times the length of my longest Blog entry!

*** To be discussed at a later date.

**** This is known as “gang rape”