Illi-ism #5: Every Day Is Christmas Day

Welcome to December, and the “Holiday Season” of Christmas, Hanukah, Yuletide, Kwanzaa and various other religious, spiritual and cultural celebrations.

With this season comes a wonderful, worldwide sense of community spirit, kindness, giving, forgiveness, and other such positive attitudes and interactions between individuals.

Forget for a moment all the stresses, financial burdens, arguments and what-nots, and let us concentrate on that positivity. Some people may dislike Christmas, or may not celebrate it (or any of the other holidays), but even those people will surely notice the positivity that resonates from those around them.

A prime example from my own personal experience is when my then-fiancé and I had returned from outside of Thanet and it was very, very late and terribly cold, so we wanted to get a taxi. On arrival at the taxi place, however, we found that neither of us had enough cash, nor anything in our bank accounts. We were well-and-truly “skint” and would have to take the long walk home in very inhospitable weather at stupid-AM. Overhearing our distress, however, was another Thanet resident who asked us where we needed to get to and proceeded to state that she was “headed that way anyway” so we could get her taxi home with her, without any charge. “Thank you so, so much” we replied in gratitude, and were met with the statement “no, no need to thank me! It’s Christmas!”. It was a wonderful thing, but I know in my heart that this would not have happened were the month January or October, for example.

All this goodness is, indeed, good, but my thought for you today to say is… “Why only at Christmas?”. Seriously, where is all that overwhelming positivity the other three-hundred-and-sixty-four (not including “Eves”, Boxing Day, etc) days of the year?

Did you know that food banks (where spare food is donated for people who have little or no food in their cupboards), charity shops, soup kitchens (where homeless people go to eat free, freshly cooked meals) become overwhelmed with donations and volunteers in December? Yet the rest of the year, these places struggle.

Why only get the entire family together for Christmas? Why only give presents for Christmas, and Birthdays? Why not show each other your love as often as you can?

One of my “Illisms” - something I will write about on a later date – is to “treat every day like Christmas Day”, and I have decided to be literal with it this year. I have recorded a video about what I plan to do and started another Blog to write about my “adventures”. I would really appreciate it if you all watched the video and read the Blog. This is going to be a big part of my life this year, which I hope will really help to combat my depression and of course help others who are in need, as well. 

Thank you, and a “Merry-Every-Day-Of-The-Year” to you all! #365Christmases ! :-) 

Living With Sleep Paralysis

The time is 02:43 and I am not sleeping. This is not because I am not tired; I am. This is not because of insomnia; I do not suffer from that ailment. This is because of fear.

I am afraid, because in the past week I have been in four comas, all be they temporary ones. My body has spent literally entire days in a state of utter stillness, and when I finally awake, I feel weakened, stiff, ache-y, tired (ironically), dehydrated, malnourished, and depressed.

Now, unless you have been in a comatose state – temporary or long-term – you will not have an understanding as I do, and that is why this post is so important. The condition that ails me is actually called “Sleep Paralysis” and is very rare, mostly unheard of by the general public, and misunderstood by many.

- - - - 

I slept for seventeen hours yesterday. Seventeen wasted hours, that I could have spent living my life. My “record”, however, is three days. During this three day period, I was unable to move, speak nor open my eyes, but I could feel everything, including the embarrassing, humiliating, incredibly uncomfortable feeling of “relieving myself” during these hours, away from the bathroom and in my undergarment, requiring a thorough shower when I awoke…

However, this is not the worst thing that has happened to me during one of these “comas”… Unfortunately, when one is unable to move one is at one’s most vulnerable, and, unable to defend myself or at the very least say “no”, I have been through several incidents of sexual intimacy that I did not want.

One such incident was when I was sleeping beside a gentleman that I was in a relationship with at the time. He “thought that it would be nice”, that I would “enjoy it” if he removed my underwear and intimately touched me. Given how he and I had only recently got passed the point of kissing and nowhere near the point of sexual intimacy of any kind (even exterior), the fact that he did this was a big setback for us, and when I awoke I locked myself in the bathroom and cried for an hour. We did not see each other for several weeks after this, but I was able to forgive him after much apologising on his part.

Another more recent occurrence was when my date and I were travelling to London on a train to see a theatre production and I feel asleep during the journey, only to find that I could not move, speak or see. Hurrah. Not knowing this (although being aware of my sleep paralysis) was the case, the aforementioned date began kissing, nibbling and caressing my neck. When we arrived at London and he was unable to wake me, he had to telephone an ambulance and our date was cancelled.

- - - - 

I have it easy compared to my twin, however. The sleep paralysis is a “defence mechanism” that has been carried-over from her lifetime of using this body. From what I can tell, she basically decided it was easier to “zone-out”, go numb and unresponsive etc, than to fight against herattacker, Mark [Bryne]. After all, what “fun” is sexually assaulting someone if they do not struggle?.. It is shocking logic, but if you know anything about rapists, you know that it can actually oftentimes be the case. Whether it worked or not, I do not know, as I have – thankfully – little access to those memories.

Sleep paralysis I believe was also the reason why Cherie missed her “nana’s” funeral service. Was she “defending herself” against dealing with the loss, perhaps?..

I honestly have no idea what causes it with me, however. It seems utterly random, and I feel completely defenceless and I hate it. Other problems that I face, I have at least a small amount of personal control over, but with this, I do not.

It is a terrifying experience and it steals time from me. Time is so, so precious, especially for me, given how I was born into atwenty-three year-old’s body, so wasting time and having no power of it makes me very cross with myself…

- - - - 

Whether or not I will ever learn to control this, I do not know. I do know, however, that it is important to share this ailment with you all, however. If you know any one who is experiencing any thing similar, or heaven forbid you are yourself, then please, please seek the help of a medical professional. And if you encounter anyone who is sleeping but completely unresponsive to your efforts to wake them and staying utterly still, please telephone an ambulance. Thank you.

A Powerful Poem, and Gratitude To Loved Ones

It has been a very stressful time of late, and although I am doing well in some ways, I am doing poorly in others. As an example, though I am "getting out more" and making friends, Mark and Kirsty mind my medications for me as a precaution, and the past couple of days I have suffered from a case of "selective mutism", where I have an inability to speak due to a tightening of my throat when under extreme stress.

My "record" - if you can call it that - is three months without so much as a "ouch" or a meow at my cat, and no attempt to even write with pen and paper or sign language. This was an extreme case, however, due to overwhelming emotional trauma. So far this time it has been two days...

The key to recovery and the return of my voice to its active state is to relax and forget my worries. This is, of course, easier-said-than-done...

- - - - 

Jacob and kitty Scratch cuddling in
the living room on one of his visits

With this in mind, I sent Poppy pup away for a few days, and my new "bestie"* Jacob made much effort to raise my spirits but to no avail, so we decided that a day at the Noobz Gaming Lounge (where I have become a regular) might help. The original plan was actually a day trip to Brighton with my ex-fiance Robert-James**, but due to medical emergency he had to stay home.

I was very, very nervous about visiting Noobz because although I have grown very fond of the establishment, its propriator, staff and visitors, I do not know any of them particularly well and a lot of people can "freak out" about my mutism when they encounter it or get snappy with me insisting that I stop "blanking them", etc, as it is a very rare medical condition, and even rarer in adults. Now pair this with my proper nature and not wanting to make people uncomfortable...

So, to "test-the-waters", "so-to-speak", I sent Noobz a message, and it follows below, along with their lovely reply. (You can tell how nervous I was due to the lack of paragraphing and various errors!)

- - - - 

I dressed smart-casual (/"prim, proper and prudish" is the usual descript), got a taxi, went for a brief shop for a treat (***), and walked through Noobz doors with bated breath... 

There were quiet, hidden tears, frequent uncontrollable shakes, lots of amusing attempts at communicating through mime, a ridiculous amount of embarrassment... but most of all, there was love. I felt so much warmth and kindness from every person in that place, even those who did not even know my name, and I honestly cannot thank them enough for that. As I type this, I am literally having to wipe a tear of happiness so that I can see my laptop screen.

 < - - - To the left is a video that I recorded live (with a small delay between visual and audio) after my shave, where I discuss spending my Birthday alone but surrounded by strangers. I can literally see myself holding back my lonely tears... But Noobz - and new friend Jacob - took care of me and made me feel not so bad.

Noobz has actually unintentionally been there for me at my highest, and lowest points. My "Brave The Shave" was the most important, brilliant experience of my life and I spent it alone, but with the Noobz. In contrast, after I nearly died trying to end my own life, I made the decision to revisit the gaming lounge, I became a member, I made friends, and my mental, emotional and physical states began to improve. It has been a big part of my recovery.

- - - - 

Jacob, Joshua (a member of staff and now friend)
and I bought every one a huge feast!

Once again, with my mutism, Noobz are guiding me through recovery. If we fast-forward to the end of the day, I can tell you that I have uttered an occasional word and even managed a sentence-or-two, all-be-it very, very quietly... I think if I continue visits over the next few days, I might de-stress enough to regain my speech.

And, I also wrote - as the title of this post suggests - a poem. I must aforewarn you that it is a very, very powerful one, but once again, the fact that I was able to write this during my time at Noobz means that I am reaching a depth of understanding of what I went through that will, again, truly help me move onwards and upwards, post-hospitalisation. It clearly reveals some pent anger and upset towards certain individuals who were not there for me during the time the poem speaks of, and those people know who they are... (You are of course forgiven.)

- - - - 

I nearly died,
I broke inside,
You were not there. 

You broke my heart,
I fell apart,
You did not care. 

When I was breathless,
You could not care less,
It was not fair. 

I was all alone,
Heart turned to stone,
You did not even phone. 

Recovered now; moving on,
Near-death made me strong;
"So long!"

- - - - 

In conclusion, I want to extend my heart-felt thanks to Mark, Kirsty, Jacob and every single staff member and gamer at Noobz that has shown me kindness and helped me through good times and bad. When I took those pills almost two months ago, all I could think was "no one loves me" and I was "not good enough", but now I feel the very opposite.

For all my friends, I need every one of you to know how much you are appreciated. Life is precious and fleeting and you need to know that I love you all very much and you mean the world to me. You are my family. If you ever need me, I am here for you.

Oh, and if you are reading this and you live in or are "passing through" Margate, I cannot recommend a visit to Noobz highly enough. A fun place, and good people.

NB: You can watch the video of my "Brave The Shave" fundraiser that I did with Noobz back in August over on my YouTube Channel (see above), and if you are inspired, please do donate to the cause! Thank you.

* We have known each-other since my Birthday fundraiser on August 25th. We instantly clicked because we have so much in common and the same kind of difficulties with socialising, confidence, etc.
** What happened between Robert-James and I is something else that I need to "cover" on my Blog, and I shall do in due time, but all you need presently know is that we are on good terms.
*** When I am brave and go outside alone, I often treat myself as an incentive. Going into town alone, "speaking" (with miming) to strangers and being outdoors when I have no voice all deserve a big treat, I thought!

The Importance Of Being Illisia

Much has happened since I last contributed to this Blog. Too much… I honestly had no clue where to start with “catching every one up” after my absence, but after a lot of thinking, I find a common theme between many of the events that have occurred, and that theme is me.

Now, I know that when writing an auto-biographical Blog, the theme is always going to be me*, but what I am writing about today is more specific than that. It is about my identity, my “sense of self”, what makes me, me.

So, without further ado, I am going to rewind time to just after my last Blog post, when I visited my local comic book convention – Kaoticon – against my better judgement, facing my fears and attempting professionalism** above personal difficulties…

- - - -

I shall likely go into more detail in another post, but the convention experience can be “summed-up” thusly; my heart spent almost the entire day racing and feeling a “burning” sensation, I spent the first half-hour of my time at the event locked away in the lavatory until Mark [Sutton, housemate and friend] came to fetch me and convince me to leave, and I did not get a chance to speak with Ian [Sharman] (ex-boyfriend of my predecessor and professional comic book writer, hence he was a Guest at the event) as he left rather early-on due to the seemingly failed nature of the convention.

However, I did do many interviews and take many photographs for journalistic purposes, and finally, I was able to speak with one David Birchington who wrote Brodie’s Law, a comic book for which Cherie was a “booth babe” and fan.  Over-all, the day left me feeling uncomfortable and confused, but also relieved that I “did it”, that I faced Cherie’s past “head-on” and survived to “tell the tale”, “so-to-speak”...

- - - -

Now fast-forward a week, and I am visiting Leeds to see two very old friends of mine who I have a very complex history with… They get their own post, so now is not the time, but needless-to-say the whole experience was a minefield of emotions, both positive (mostly) and negative.

Prior to leaving for Leeds, I had a huge disagreement with my two housemates, a nervous breakdown – the first I have had in upwards of two years – and no sleep. Due to this, I failed to order my prescription of pain killers and anti-depressants for the week away, which left me in pain, and suffering from withdrawal…

Withdrawal from anti-depressants of this strength causes vast changes in behaviour and many symptoms that did nor priorly exist before being prescribed the medicine. For me, this meant paranoia, delusions, lots of tears, yelling, swearing, snapping, insults and all manner of most uncharacteristically Illi-ish actions that I am not proud of.

This withdrawal and the fight prior to my departure meant that I had yet more arguments via digital messaging with my housemates, so when I returned “home” to their residency, I had “switched-off my voice” (“selective mutism”) and become practically unbearable to be around. Frustrated with everything and not realising why, I became desperate…

- - - -

… So, I walked to the local shop and purchased much alcohol, which I promptly consumed, and when that did not make me feel better, I ran away from home. Literally. The pain was extreme, but I did not care. I ran and ran until I could no longer run for breathlessness, and then I continued walking… Without shoes, coat, purse, identification, walking stick(s), or voice, I marched for what appears to be almost six miles.

I walked down pitch-black alleyways, through unlit parks, I considered killing myself several times via jumping from a bridge or some-such, and I even went to a pub and attempted to “pull” a stranger for a passing sexual encounter. My heart rushed and my head spun the entire duration. I was lost, confused, scared, and alone…

At one point in my journey all I could think of was “find Robert” so when I got to Ramsgate I headed to where I knew he presently resides, but – presumably due to my mental and physical state – I took several “wrong turns” and found myself sitting on a bench in a strange area, crying, shaking (with mental stress, and from the cold!) and utterly vulnerable…

- - - -

My feet, when I returned home.

Thankfully, two pleasant lady strangers saw I was in distress, and called the police, who promptly took me home. The policeman (and woman) on duty had encountered me before, when I reported a crime in progress, so they knew where to take me, even though I could not remember myself where I needed to go. I had the vaguest recollection of where I legally resided, but I did not want to go there. I felt rejected, unloved, misunderstood, scared to be around my “friends” who I thought were turning against me… but having not found Robert and knowing no one else within miles, I had no choice but to return “home”.

- - - -

I wrote "not good enough" repeatedly all over my
arms and hands before my attempt at suicide

I was convinced that “no one [loved] me”, and continually uttered “why am I not good enough?”, citing my mother’s dislike of me and my ex-fiance Robert-James abandoning me and Poppy (our dog). This is actually something that I uttered repeatedly the last time that I tried to kill myself, so I have since reached the obvious conclusion that this is a big issue in my life and something that needs to be dealt with; my feeling of worthlessness, abandonment and being unloved…***

My mental and physical state and my maltreatment of my housemates led to an attempt at suicide. I “downed” a lot of pain killers**** right in front of Mark. Thankfully he was there, or I would have taken a lot, lot more. He promptly called an ambulance, and Kirsty spent the rest of the night taking care of me, helping me through the constantly being sick as a result of what I had done…

It was utterly terrifying. It was the lowest point of my life. I literally felt like I was dying, and I could have died, had Mark and Kirsty not been there… BUT, none of that was me. The stress that caused it was, but normally Illisia Adams has far more strength than to do such a thing to herself. The withdrawal meant I was not in my right mind, and my actions were not my own.

- - - -

Fast-forward yet another week, and my parents come to visit me in Margate, from London. I do not recall the last time that I saw either of them! I was very insistent that my father visit me after what had happened, and due to my utterances of “why doesn’t she love me?”, “why am I not good enough for her?” etc with relation to my mother, I was also adamant that his wife be present as well…

Unfortunately, as much as I desperately wanted her to tell me that she loved me, for us to be a family and for all that stress to disappear, what I did not “factor-in” was the fact that I was still in withdrawal. My anti-depressants were not yet arrived, and I was still not myself.

Now, normally my mother already dislikes me. She and I have never particularly “got-along”, but we have never had an argument, though things have always just been rather awkward. However, that is when I am me.

During her visit, I was blunt, aggressive, callous and uncaring. We had a huge fight, I lost my temper, I screamed and I threw things. My father tried to calm me, but in doing-so panicked me further and I bit him and drew blood. Yes, you read me correctly. Father wanted to take me home, but I then promptly called an ambulance, fully aware that I was once again feeling suicidal, and this time Mark and Kirsty were not indoors to stop me…

I was in hospital for upwards of twenty-four hours, I was alone, I did a lot of crying, and I had a lot of time to think…*****

- - - - 

Having this breakdown, being at my lowest that I have ever, ever been, and having that “life flashing before your eyes” experience has given me a fresh perspective on life. I already considered every day to be precious, being aware that there are millions of people “worse-off” than I in the world and that, having been born into a twenty-something year-old, days must not be wasted… However, having been through what I went through, I now know who those who truly care about me are (on good days, and bad), what nastiness lies inside of me at my worst, what matters most to me in this world, and how important it is to continue to be the best version of myself that I can be.

I have met many people in my short time in this world, and although most of you have been kind and understanding of me, some have been less-so, with speeches about how I “stole” Cherie’s life, how I “killed” her, how I am “not good enough” (yes, that is probably where those mutterings that I mentioned earlier stem from…), and all manner of other unpleasantries. Even my own mother considers me – in her own words – to be “pompous” and “cold”, and this has filled me with the greatest of sadness.

In retrospect, however, having seen the worst possible version of myself, being “the anti-Illi”, I have never, ever been more proud of who I am today.

I could have chosen to be a bad person. Heck, having been through what I have been – kidnapping, sexual assault, burglary, stalking, etc – a lesser person would have given-in to the darkness and decided to “toughen-up” and be more like the persons who wronged her. This is what people have told me I should do, but I have never faltered. “Through thick and thin”, I am still here. Illisia Adams, aged “twenty-nine-but-kind-of-six-actually”, is a kind, honest, innocent******, down-right good person, and I never, ever want to change.

- - - -

NB: For one final note, I want to emphasise the importance of medication, therapy and other things that help those of us that suffer from mental illness. It was my fault that I did not re-order the prescription and that I suffered withdrawal as I did. Please, please do not let this happen to you, or any one that you know and care about. Make sure that you never go “cold turkey”, deliberately or accidentally. Always seek advice from your medical professionals if you want to cease treatment, or if you have any questions, etc. Thank you.

The Comic Convention: Before

This is an unplanned, last-minute post, but it is super-important that it be written – and published – within a few days of this week end. Because, this week end, Thanet is having it’s first-ever comic book convention, and I am within two minds as to whether to attend. One thing is for certain, however, and that is that I am panicking…

[Please note that due to my current emotional state of worry/fear and the last-minute nature of the post, my “written voice” (the style in which I write) may vary from my usual.]

- - - - 

The comic book convention is organised by a friend of my housemate, best friend and landlord Kirsty [Swan], whom I have mentioned many times prior to now on this Blog. I may or may not (I forget) have mentioned that Kirsty is very involved in the UK comic book “scene”/industry as a colourist, and sometimes artist.

“Kaoticon” as it is titled is hosted by the owners of Phoenix Fantasy Comics in Cliftonville, Margate, and will be held on Saturday and Sunday. This in itself should not be a thing of panic. After-all, I have attended several conventions before and actually have a preference for the smaller, more “indie” kinds. However, the conventions that I normally attend do not usually have special Guests doing signings who matter-of-factually knew my predecessor, and one of which actually actively – even after all these years – hates or fears (I am not sure which) her.

- - - - 

In my last post, I mentioned my disappointment that this person – one Ian Sharman – had blocked me on social media. I have heard many a positive thing about him from our mutual friends, and those that know me - or perhaps those that do not, but whom frequent this Blog - should know that I am rather incapable of holding “grudges”, feeling negative about people, and least of all, judging someone whom I have never met, for reasons unknown to me (aka any “residue feelings” I might get when thinking about someone the past-me knew).

I understand and respect that he and Cherie [Donovan, my “twin”], were partners in business and in romance, and that they parted on very, very bad terms, but to this day I am unsure as to why, and honestly… I do not particularly care. I am curious, though, of course, because I am only human and this does affect my life, given Ian’s social media response to me.

- - - - 

In my curiosity, and with the impending comic book convention, I have done much research with regards to the negativity held between these two lovers (Ian and Cherie) post-breakup. I have read emails, I have spoken with friends and family, and I can find nothing of any particular use. I can see the emails between them slowly growing more and more hostile and then abruptly ending all-together, but all this gave me was more questions…

Eventually, I did not find the answers that I sought anywhere that I expected. Nor am I sure that I even found them… It is a little presumptuous of me to presume that what I found is the reason for what happened post-breakup, but I am nonetheless feeling duty-bound to “set the records straight” and hope that it will ease tensions between myself and Ian, who I am concerned holds a dislike for me due to actions that were not my own.

- - - - 

A photograph of Ian and Cherie when they were happy, taken by my
(and their) friend Simon Bailey, who recently discovered this long-lost
image from one of the conventions they had attended together.

What I found, I discovered inside of my mind. I am unsure, but I think it was from a dream, or it might have been that something in my everyday life “triggered” the memories as is sometimes the case, but what I do know is that I made certain that the information not be lost, and that it be discussed herein. This was many weeks ago, but time has passed and now with the convention fast approaching, I feel a need to share, rather than wait on my schedule*.

I distinctly remember a heart-broken Cherie describing the breakup between them as “he kicked me out at three o'clock in the morning!” to just-about-everyone who she could. Now, straight away I can say that if this were true, it would be a horrible thing, but that I would never be telling all of the people I know about it. Such things are best kept private, and one cannot recover from a negative experience without forgiveness.

Saying bad things – true or no – about a person who has wronged you will not give you closure… and, to be honest, I am not sure that in Cherie’s case it ever did, given the fact that when she saw Ian “in-the-flesh” at London MCM convention back in 2010 (paired with other stressful things), her reaction was to feel a sudden desire kill herself… 

- - - - 

That is my stance, were what she said true. However, my prior memories of the closure of their relationship indicate that how she described it was a very large exaggeration. In fact, I am uncertain, but I have a blurred recollection of Ian offering that she stay residing with him until she was able to move back with her parents or find her own place, which is a “far cry” from “he kicked me out”.

It was indeed 3am and there was an argument that ended their romantic (not professional) relationship, but it was her decision to leave the property. She called her parents in tears and insisted they take her in.

My memories are few, far-between, and honestly somewhat unreliable, but that is what I can tell you that I remember. Furthermore to this, if Cherie had been telling people what I think she was, that would have put Ian’s personal and professional integrity into question with whom she had told, so I am not surprised by his last email to her in which he states very clearly “the fact that you think I would want to talk to you after some of the things you have said and done shocks me.”…

If this is indeed the reason why Ian became so angry with Cherie and why he now has a dislike of me and the idea of ever interacting with me, I must apologise on Cherie’s behalf for her actions. She was young, heartbroken and inexperienced in love. Love makes us do utterly stupid things; especially when we are young. It does not excuse her actions, but it does explain them. She is long-gone now, and I think it best that forgiveness be given to her memory…

- - - - 

Writing this post is literally making me feel sick with worry, and I shall be speaking with my therapist today (Wednesday) about this potentially life-changing decision as to whether or not to attend this event…

I just hope in my heart-of-hearts that if any of Cherie’s colleagues, friends or “fans” that attend this weekend – and in particular, Ian - see me have read this that they see me for me and not for her, should I choose to attend. I do not want things to be awkward or difficult. I just want to be able to report on and photograph the event, without feeling uncomfortable or scared, or making any one else feel that way, either.

Please remember that if you are one of Cherie's friends, colleagues or "fans" and have any questions or just want to talk, you can contact me at any time and I will do my best to help you.

- - - - 

Perhaps I shall make friends. Perhaps answers to long-asked questions will be learned. My journalistic and photographic career could benefit from this event, but my emotional and mental state may worsen. I know not what this week end will hold for me, but I intend to write a “The Comic Convention: After” post, whatever the case may be…

For those of you that are local and have a “geeky” lifestyle, I recommend attending. Say hello to Kirsty! Get a signed comic book from Ian! Go in cosplay! Buy things! I am hoping this event will be fun for all and a good thing for Thanet as-a-whole…

</end>**

- - - -

* Yes, my Posts for my Blog have a schedule.

** This is a nerdy HTML coding reference.

Amy Pond and The Doctor, Reunited (Part Two) aka Lies and “Chinese Whispers”

This week I want to talk about how lies, deception and second-hand quotes (“he said”, “she said”) can tear apart relationships, and even ruin lives… It is also time that I continued on from my “Part One” of the post where I mentioned that Mark [Sutton] and I are good friends again now, and “set-the-record-straight” about what happened between us, how and why, and of course how things have become so good between us again now… 

- - - -

Regular readers might find that my mentions of Mark can be somewhat contradicting. Sometimes I discuss his abuse of me, and other times I have nothing but fondness for him. There is actually very good reason for this, and that is the very topic that we are discussing today: lies and Chinese whispers…

“I faced my fears of Mark and Kirsty and I realised that they were unfounded. Kirsty had no ill-will toward me what-so-ever, contrary to what many of our then-“friends” would have me and her (and Mark) believe. Therein we can now see the power of “he-said-she-said” gossiping, and have since decided to disregard third party opinions.” –  from Part One.

Cherie and Mark [Sutton] (far left) with friends and colleagues - including Kirsty [Swan] eating a meal together a few weeks before her passing. This is one of the last photographs ever taken of my predecessor and the first and only time she met Kirsty. Photograph credit and date are unknown.

- - - -

In fact, I have in one particularly powerful post many months ago stated my belief that Mark “raped” me, but also that there was no mal-intent involved. From his perspective, he was having intercourse with his girlfriend (Cherie), not with a baby personality who had no concept of sex and therefore no ability to consent…

“When I look back on those early days and the experiences I had with him, I feel violated. My trust was violated, as was my body.But then, I do wonder if from Mark's perspective things were very different. He had, after all, been sleeping with my predecessor for months before I took her body as my own.” – from my post The First Year: Part One

Now that we are on good terms - and with him having read much of my Blog - Mark and I have had a chance to talk about what happened. He has apologised a great deal, we hugged, I cried, we even laugh about It sometimes, and I realise that although I technically gave no consent, it was not an unpleasant experience. He did not hold me down, he did not injure me; he simply did not take the time to explain what was happening and why, and to ask if I wanted to partake. Now, this is still very much a grey-area, but I cannot emphasise enough that his intent is what holds truest.

- - - -

The reason that Mark and I parted ways after years of on-off love interest and friendship was actually of my own doing. After six months of living apart, I had decided that he and I were not a good match as friends, and I sent him a very long, heart-felt email explaining that I would be civil to him but we could no longer be friends. It was heart-breaking, but not nearly as much as what happened next…

“I wanted to help you grow into that greatness, to be the man I know you can be, but you have to face your mistakes, your faults, accept them, and conquer them, or you will never reach that greatness, and because of how you have treated me, I cannot help you get there, I am sorry.” - a segment from the last email that I sent to Mark, on June 06^th 2013, three years ago. The next email exchange was not until October 25^th 2015 where Mark invited my then-fiancé Robert-James and I to attend an evening of karaoke with him and Kirsty.

Fast-forward a few weeks from that email, and I have been burgled. Many of my belongings were stolen, I felt unsafe in my own home, I was shaken and teary… and this news came to reach Mark, who instantly decided to come and see me and console me.

I was not happy to see him. This was for two reasons. The first being that I had decided we could no longer be friends, for the good of both of us, and he was going against my wishes. The second (matching our theme) being that many of our mutual “friends” had been whispering in my ear that it must have been Mark who had burgled my flat and stolen my belongings! “His girlfriend wants an Xbox, and now your Xbox is stolen?”*, “Mark is a liar and a thief…” etc etc etc… I am ashamed to say that I let those paranoid, ill-intent words get-to-me, and I did indeed accuse him of stealing… 

- - - -

Snow Angels! One of my fonder memories with Mark, back when he lived in Margate and I in New Eltham. I visited him and Maryanne during the snowy weather and we went for a fun walk with snow ball fighting, attempts at building a snowman that failed terribly, and these two snow angels on a hill.

After defending himself (when he should not have had to!) against my accusations, we had a hug and started talking again, like we always did, about the usual “how’s life?”, “have you heard the news about [insert television program here]” topics, and it was nice. … Too nice…

Something inside my mind snapped and I made an impromptu decision to end our friendship, once-and-for-all, for the good of both of us. Mark and I had too much pain and history between us, and although we had tried to mend ourselves, I decided that the only thing that could truly mend us would be time, so – for the first time in my life – I lied. A lot.

I told Mark that I hated him. That I could never forgive him for all the things he had done. That I never, ever wanted to see him again, ever.

- - - -

Hatred is not something I have ever felt, nor that I ever hope to feel, so pretending to hate someone who I truly still very much loved** was probably the hardest thing I have ever, ever had to do within my short life. And of course, being as honest a person as I am, he believed everything that I said…

We parted ways on horrible terms, and I cried for hours, days and weeks afterwards for what I had done… but I held strong to my decision, convinced that it was the best for the both of us.

Mark always felt guilty for the things he had done, no matter how many times I told him he was forgiven, and I always wanted answers from him (“why did you do [insert event here]?”) that he could not provide, so we were stuck in a seemingly never-ending loop of upset that stopped us from truly being friends, and from truly moving on… 

- - - -

I have a strict NO REGRETS policy, and this applies undoubtedly best here. Though it hurt me to do what I did, in retrospect, looking at Mark now, three years later, I know that I made the right choice. Without me in his life, he was able to lose that guilt, not argue with me every day, not feel like he owed me anything… He was just able to live his life, and be the man that I always knew he could be…

Granted, he still has faults (as do I!), but then, are we not all flawed by nature, as humans? Today he is in full-time employment, has more of a social life, a better relationship with his family, has lost weight and got fitter, and is in a happy, healthy relationship with Kirsty.

On my side of things, I have had two unsuccessful relationships, many “ups and downs” in terms of mental and physical health, found religion, and even got myself a dog. But, most importantly, I have moved on. Moved on from anger, sadness, and fear, and truly forgiven Mark – and myself – for the past misgivings. It is one thing to say (and even feel like) you forgive a person, but it is another entirely to truly feel that forgiveness inside yourself, which is where I stand now.

- - - -

Now having a functional, good friendship with both Mark and Kirsty, the topic of the comic book industry (which Kirsty is a fundamental part of, as an independent, freelance comic book artist and colourist, and Cherie was a colourist for) was bound to “come-up”. And, it follows, also the topic of Cherie’s “ex” Ian [Sharman], who is a multi-talented part of the UK comics industry himself.

I mention this within my Blog post today because, no matter how hard I searched my mind, I could still (after my last mention of their relationship and its end) not find reason why things became so negative between them. I have spoken to some of her friends, family and colleagues, and reached the conclusion that it was Chinese whispers (but also heartache) that were to blame…

It would appear that my predecessor was heart-broken, and in being heartbroken, she said some things about her ex-partner that (I hope) were not necessarily intended to be malleus, but which when taken out-of-context on a “she said [this and this]” basis, could be perceived as such. We must also bare in mind her young age, her inexperience (it was her first relationship) and her unstable mental health as contributing factors for her saying things in a certain way, not thinking about how it would affect how people saw Ian, and his personal and professional reputations. 

- - - -

This is officially the only photograph of both Cherie (left) and Ian (right)
that I can find! A signing at a convention with a fan.

When my relationships end, I never have anything truly negative to say. There is always fault with both parties; no one is innocent in a break-up. But, as we all know by now, Cherie and I are very, very different. Most interestingly, I seem to be more mature and world-wise on this topic (and a few others) than my “twin” even though I am only a few years of (spiritual) age. More importantly though, is my positive outlook on life in comparison to hers which was almost entirely negative.

I hope that, should Ian or any of his friends or colleagues ever read this, they realise that Cherie and I are completely different, and should we ever “cross paths”, there is no need for concern that there be any ill-will towards Mr Sharman, and that anything that they heard that she may or may not have said aught to be “taken with a pinch of salt”. I actually barely remember him, and I certainly have nothing bad to say about him.

In fact, I consider myself to be thankful to Ian, and to be a fan. I am not one for reading many comic books and only very, very rarely, but when I did “dabble” in reading them in my first year, I found his writings for Orang Utan Comics (where they worked together) fascinating. I also have him to thank for my very existence, given how his “blanking” (as she phrased it) of her (Cherie) in her final days was a contributing factor to my “Birth” in 2010. 

Ironically, I fear that Ian himself may be listening to Chinese whispers and hearsay, due to the fact that he has Blocked me on Twitter... I feel the irony of discovering this while wanting to link to him in my post, given its topic... Alas, I had expected better from him, given the fondness so many of my friends have for him, but I can somewhat understand his reasons, due to his dislike for my predecessor.  I hope that he will reconsider this in the future and draw his own conclusions of me, not her.

- - - -

In conclusion, I have mentioned before that I have a strict policy now to ignore any “he said, she said”, “rumour mill” nonsense, and draw my own conclusions based on what I personally know to be true, or indeed to approach the person/s spoken about and ask them directly for their views, and I utterly, utterly urge that my readers do the same.

Words can be very hurtful, not least of all when they come from third parties. Friendships, relationships and families have been drawn apart by someone repeating words out-of-context or incorrectly, or (“worst case scenario”) by a person saying another said something that is actually entirely untrue and invented just-then.

The rumours did not win. I am presently living with Kirsty and Mark in their spare-bedroom, paying rent. This would not be at all possible (and I would be homeless!) had I and they continued to listen to “hearsay” rather than just speak with one-another outright and draw our own conclusions. I am more thankful to them both than I could ever possibly state in words, I owe them much and they are presently my two closest friends and confidants.

Do not listen to rumours! This is something that I am very passionate about and that I hope you will all consider, moving forward with your lives.

- - - - 

* Kirsty actually cannot stand Xbox consoles, so this is double-y untrue.
** Love and “in love” being two very different things. You can still love an “ex” without being in love with them.

I Dared Myself To Be Daring… aka My “Brave The Shave” Challenge!

You can find more about my #BraveTheShave efforts over on my unique shaver profile, here.

My name is Illisia Adams. You know this about me, but did you know that I am painfully shy? I am rather reclusive, actually; a bit of a hermit. This is entirely because of one thing, and that thing is fear.

“[She] was painfully shy, which, as is often the manner of the painfully shy, [she] overcompensated for by being too loud at the wrong times.” - Neil Gaiman*, Stardust (novelisation)

My fear is actually quite well-founded in factual experiences. Regular readers will be aware that I have been through some very nasty experiences within my short lifetime, and I am understandably held-back by my concern of repeat scenarios.

I am almost certain that my trust, naivety, friendship and love could easily be manipulated and “taken advantage of” on yet more occasions, as they have done time-and-time before, by both strangers and trusted individuals. This is because - contrary to the pleas of many of my friends - I refuse to “harden-up” to the ills of this world. It leaves me open to hurt, but it also leaves me open to positive things like love and making a difference in a stranger’s day, so I feel that it is worth the risk.

- - - -

So, in summary, I know that I could “harden-up” and be a stronger person and face the world head-on, knowing I could protect myself against pain, but I do not want to. I think that what others feel would make me stronger, would actually weaken me. What makes me, me, would dissipate and I would become like many world-weary, “half-glass-empty” people this earth is already so full of.

The fact of the matter is that when I am brave enough to speak with strangers, I often find a reason to try to make them feel good about themselves. I am making a tiny little positive difference in the world…

“Illi-ism #10: Compliment And Smile At Strangers.
A compliment or a smile from a stranger can really make a person feel good about themselves and make their day. A lot of people worry about complimenting people that they do not know because they do not want to be seen as "creepy" (etc), but you need not fear that, simply begin your compliment by stating that you hope the person does not mind your saying so. Smiling at others is also scientifically proven to make them also want to smile. "Smile and the world smiles back", as the saying goes, and it is indeed true.” – a quote from my Illi-isms.

- - - -

So, what do I mean when I say that I “dared myself to be daring”? The definition of “daring” is “adventurous courage; boldness”. I feel like that is the very opposite of me! So this is me breaking out of my usual “mould”, trying something new, and raising money and awareness for a good cause whilst I do!

The fact-of-the-matter is that I want to experience life and not let my fears control me, but with everything that has happened these past few years, it seems like every time that I start to recover, I experience something else and regress into negative states again, once more becoming a hermit. Which is a shame, because although I technically listed on my medical records as being “agoraphobic”, it is less a fear of the outside, and more of a fear of the (bad) people…

I was just going to “wait-it-out” and let myself recover from my latest dramas (failed engagement, loss of home, weight gain), “taking it slowly” with “baby steps”, but then I saw a FaceBook Sponsored Advert for the “Brave The Shave” fundraising campaign…

It occurred to me that here I am, sitting indoors being ruled by my fear and telling myself it will pass again with time… and yet, there are multitudes of people fighting (and dying of…) cancer (and other serious illnesses) every day. These people are looking death in the face every day and telling it/him where to stuff it! They are fighting back, and that is one of the bravest things in the world that a person can do, in my opinion; especially as someone who has in the past given-up and tried to take her own life…

- - - -

My "Before" photograph for Brave The Shave.

The “Brave The Shave” campaign raises money for those brave people that are fighting this illness, by encouraging sponsorship of individuals who shave their heads to raise awareness of the plights of those undergoing cancer treatments that result in hair loss.

… I am going to be one of those individuals. On August 25^th 2016 (fifty-four days, and counting!) – which is my physical Birthday (twenty-nine this year) - I will be visiting a hair salon and having every inch of my “locks” removed. I will be campaigning to gain sponsorship** between now and then, and you can of course contribute if you wish (please do!). Literally every penny counts!

- - - -

When I informed some of my friends, the reactions have certainly differed!

“But you can do other things for charity…” stated Daniel, to which I replied “This is more about impact though, not just fundraising. When I shave my hair, I am showing support for all the people all around the world who lo[o]se their hair to cancer.”

“God you[']r[e] brave” – Jessica/”Hatchy” My reply? “Not as brave as the people I am doing it for :-) But thank you.”

Another part of my conversation with Daniel perfectly sums-up what I have been speaking about in this post.

“Yes, it is up to me. I cannot go back now! Well, I can... But that would be so very Illi-ish of me, you know? Getting too scared and "freaking-out" etc. It holds me back from experiencing life! 

You should see my Living List! Some of those things are so, so simple to do, they do not cost money, etc, but they still have not been done.”

- - - -

I may be “braving the shave”, but it is people fighting cancer who are the real heroes. I am not a brave person. I am actually quite a coward! I have only recently started going outside more often and interacting with strangers etc because of my dog, Poppy. 

This is no ordinary fundraiser. This is me showing my support to people that have been through or are going through cancer, in a very graphic way. By shaving my head, I am showing them comradery. Every time someone asks me about my shaved head, I can proudly say why I did it, and spread the word about what McMillan Cancer do.

Add to this the fact that I hope to donate my lengthy hair locks to Little Princess Trust - a charity that makes real hair wigs for children going through cancer treatment - and I really feel like this could be one of the most important things I have done in my life (so far!)…

I shall of course by posting about this again, come-the-time! In the meanwhile, if you want to support my efforts, please “Share” this Blog post, sponsor me, tweet my BraveTheShave profile**; whatever you can do.

Together we can make a difference. Many Blessings to you all, and remember that life is too short for fear! :-) 

- - - -

* I shall be publishing my “How Neil Gaiman Saved My Life” once I a). finish it and b). have the courage to publish it… Baby steps!

** You can find more about my #BraveTheShave efforts over on my unique shaver profile, here.

NO REGRETS.

“Long time, no see”, as-they-say... and I genuinely have my reasons...

Today I noticed a theme in my life that gave me a sudden desire to Blog. I have not felt the urge to contribute to my Blog for some time. Life has, well, happened. I know that I want to be prioritising my contributions to this life story, but want and need are two very different things. What I have needed to do is live my life, and I have had little time to sit down and tell you my story. Today, however, I got a mental and emotional slap around the face, and I need to tell you why.

- - - - 

Robert-James, Poppy (dog) and Scratch (cat).

- - - -

Drum roll, please... The theme is “No Regrets”. Okay, so you get no points if you guessed that correctly because the key is in the title of the post, but this gives it no less meaning.

“No regrets” has been a big part of my life for a long time. I think it might have been the first “Illi-ism” that I invented. My Illi-isms are the rules by which I live my life. They are my guiding light in the dark; my rose in the thorns; my personal moral compass. When I wake every day, I am proud of who I am and confident that I am having a positive impact on the people I care about, and even for strangers who I pass by, and a big part of this is my Illi-isms.

- - - - 

I know that for a lot of people, having no regrets seems like a difficult – if not impossible – task. After all, is it not in human nature to regret? I would argue against this**. My stance on the matter is this:

“Illi-ism #1: No regrets. Ever.
If you regret any life experience, you are doubting who you are today because they are our building blocks.” - a quote from my Illi-isms.

This means that a bad relationship may indirectly lead to a good one and to lifelong happiness, bad school grades might help you become a professional singer, or being homeless and hungry for a week could have made you into a more humble and grateful person.

The extreme for this is that I have been through so much in my lifetime that no one should ever have to go through – physically, mentally, emotionally and sexually assaulted, robbed, burgled, lied to – but I remain vigilant and positive, through all of it. I am not happy about what I have been through. It makes me sad. But I am also very proud of how strong it has made me, of the choices I have made since those events and of the moral person I continue to be.

When we were happy, before everything
went wrong. 28th July 2014.

- - - - 

Precisely two years ago today, I met a man - Matt [Osborne] - who would several months later sexually assault me inside my own home, on my own bed, while I tried to sleep. He was a close friend, a romantic interest (we kissed a few times) and most importantly of all, my legal (fully qualified!) Carer. I truly trusted him, and it cost me dearly. His reason? He claimed he did not know what he was doing and that he was asleep while doing it. Whether this is true or not, I do not know.

Although the experience weakened me at the time and for many months after (PTSD: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder), it also made me stronger. Without that experience, I might not be as independent as I am today. I lost my ability to entrust my physical and mental wellbeing to another, so I had to learn to fend for myself (again).

I found the strength within me to report the crime, with the help of my friend Jon [Thurtell]. Although the police referred to it as a “mild” sexual assault due to the fact that he “only” touched my breast without my consent and on another occasion indecently exposed himself to me, I stood my ground that it was wrong and he deserved to be made accountable. I sadly lost my case due to a “his word against yours” situation - even though I had an email confession from him – but I am still to this day amazed that I even tried.

The final FaceBook Chat between Matt - aka "Lupus Solitaras" and myself.

- - - - 

Fast-forward two years, and I find myself looking at the “On This Day...” FaceBook feature, noticing the “Anniversary” of our meeting... and not particularly caring...

I had a brief moment of upset and recollection, but it faded very quickly and was replaced by an odd feeling of “Has it really only been that short a time?”. Nor did I shed a single tear. These facts mean that I am recovered.

My road to recovery... The first photograph is of the "evidence" returned to me from the police investigation: my bed sheets and my night clothes that I was wearing at the time that Matt told me were a "cock tease" and the reason for his actions. The second is the day that I was able to finally open the bag... and the third is present-day me, when I am now able to actually wear the nightclothes that I wore that night, without hurt.

- - - - 

Another thing that I ought to regret – yet I do not – is my now failed engagement. Robert-James [Brazier] and I recently (a few weeks ago) decided that our relationship was not working, and that we must stop trying to force it. It was a difficult and sad decision, but also a relieving one. We still feel something for one another, but sometimes love is not enough, and you must move on. We remain friends, all-be-it somewhat awkward ones.(..)

August 10th 2015: "We met a gentleman at Ramsgate Train
Station with a bag full of puppies, accompanied
by their mother and father. So sweet!"

Furthermore, I need to state that this means that my ex-boyfriend, ex-boss, ex-friend Matthew B was correct in his judgement of our (Robert-James and my) coupling being a poor match and his reasoning behind this opinion also proved to be true. I shan't go into detail, but one thing is clear here, and that is in the ending of the “RJ-IA” romance, I have suffered two very heavy losses, but neither of which I can regret.

I lost my fiance, and I lost my friendship (and potentially rekindled romance) with my ex, Matthew B***. He made it clear that he did not want to continue being a part of my life because I chose Robert-James and he knew it was doomed to fail and that I would be hurt. If he ever reads this, he can quietly and smugly utter “I told you so” and know that it is well-founded.

"Enjoy your life with this replacement Mark. I do not want to have to stand by and watch you destroy everything you fought so hard for." - Matthew B's last words to me, via FaceBook Message.

However, without my failed relationship with Robert-James and the loss of my friendship with Matthew B, I would not have my wonderful dog Poppy, nor would I have met the lady who I consider to be my closest friend in the world, Kirsty [Swan], and rekindled my lost friendship with her long-term partner Mark [Sutton], aka “my Amy Pond”.

- - - - 

No regrets. Not ever. Everything that happened in the past forms who we are in the present. I love who I am today**** and I would not want it changed.

I hope that each of you can read this and take some of that positive attitude and put it into your own lives. Be proud of who you are!

PS. Containing the theme, I am returning to my Being Erica marathon. It is a television program about time travelling to change your regrets, full of heart and humour.

- - - -

*Eviction notice, for one!

**Except I would not, because not arguing is another Illi-ism.

***Just over a year ago, right after E3 2015...

****(although I do have plenty of faults, I feel they are far outweighed by things I am proud of)