Survivor's Guilt

Hello, dear readers.

I apologise for my absence. It has been a loooong couple-of-months, and a lot has happened; and that is not even including the things that happened before that that I still need to tell you about! But, alas, my heart is "just not-in-it", presently...

I promise that I shall try and write something soon, but, in the meanwhile, here is something a little unconventional... A piece of creative writing that I penned many years ago which I recently re-discovered which shows a lot of insight into my state-of-mind at-the-time. It dates back possibly as far as 2010. You can tell from the writing that I was still very young because I was not "me" yet; using words like "Hell" and "bitch", for instance. The writing is intended as fictional (I have not, for instance, confessed to murder and been on trial for the crime), but the subcontext is very, very apparent.

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.

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>**

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* 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.

Deja-Vu

Okay, I admit it... It has been another three months since my last update and that makes me a Silly Illi. I have several Blog posts almost ready-to-go, though, which I will schedule when they are done, so as to ensure that this gets updated frequently again. Here is the first of the aforementioned ready-to-go posts, which discusses that infamous feeling one gets that one has done some thing before... 

- - - - 

Most people at some point in their lives will experience “deja-vu”; a word deriving from France roughly translated as “already seen”, referring to the feeling that one might experience that tells us that we have “been here, done that” before the present, even though we have no real recollection of the would-be past event.

For myself, however, the experience is entirely more real, and a whole lot stranger...

Having my “soul” jumping into some-one else's adult body means that I only have a few years of memories that I can call my own, and – as priorly mentioned – I have almost no memories from my predecessor's lifetime.

Every now-and-then, however, I get that odd feeling of deja-vu when I experience some thing that is “new” for me – but not for my body – in an entirely unique way.

I can be watching a television program and suddenly feel as though I know what is going to happen, and then I am correct, as it turns out. This is particularly annoying, as it is like some one telling you a “spoiler”, and it actually ruins the experience.

I can meet a person or see them from afar for what is the first time for me, and yet I have a “feeling” inside me of familiarity toward them, or in some cases I even have an emotional reaction - be it positive or negative – to their presence.

- - - - 

Cherie signing one of her comic books at a convention.

“Conventions” - events gathering many “geeks” together to celebrate their passions – have always been particularly difficult for me, as my “twin” Cherie often attended such events as a “cosplayer”*, a “booth babe” and even as a guest at some events after she became published in comic books.

My first one-such event was Euro Gamer Expo in September of 2011, which was a really over-powering, yet wonderful experience. I have never been a fan of crowds - especially ones that might include people who would be inclined to yell “Cher!!!” at me and try to hug me - but I wanted to give it a try. I made some friends, pushed myself past my “comfort zone” and challenged myself, so over-all the experience was a big turning-point for me. It was also the first time that I ever used my name [Illisia Adams] – as opposed to Cherie's - outside of my enclosed group of friends, in public; although at this point it was not a legal name-change**.

The outing went well enough and there were no such “Cher” events until I returned in 2012. I was leaving the event hall one evening when some one approached me and touched my shoulder to get my attention, proclaiming how much they missed me and how great it was to see me. This was of course a “rabbit-in-headlights” situation for me that I had not prepared myself for in-the-slightest. I had to literally squint my eyes and really, really concentrate on the person's face to try to remember them, even a little bit, and after doing so I was able to reply to the greeter who I unfortunately misnamed***, informing her that I was not in fact the person that she knew, stating rather unenthusiastically “I'm a twin” to which she (understandably) grumpily replied that it was “the best cosplay ever” and we parted ways.

It was after this that I decided that if I was to attend any of these events that I must now wear a mask, and limit whom I spoke with and made contact with. Attendees at Sci-Fi Weekender fondly referred to me as “The Masked Photographer”, as I was never seen in public without my mask; which was a good thing because I suffered “deja-vu” when seeing several faces that weekend. Whether Cherie actually knew them or if it was indeed just a simple case of standard deja-vu, I shall never know…

- - - -

Kirsty (left) and myself (right) eating out. She
accompanied me on one of my "Secret Shopping" jobs.

There are also in fact two people in my life who when I first “met” them I basically ran the other way and ignored them, because I felt that uncomfortable “crud, Cherie knew them, didn't she?” feeling when I saw them. But, given how both Vikki and Kirsty live in Margate where I, too, reside, I needed to find peace with them.

Vikki first called out Cherie's name at the GEEK (Gaming Expo East Kent) a couple of years back and I completely ignored her and marched as far in the other direction as possible and then travelled promptly home. I felt really, really bad about it, so when I next saw her at a nighttime market event in town and she again called my predecessor's name, I approached her stall and spoke with her. She explained that she had been to school with Cherie. After adding one another on social media and speaking for a few weeks, I was able to explain what had happened, and we have been good friends since.

Kirsty, on the other side of the insanely-awkward spectrum, was even more complicated. I had heard that she was moving into the area and I did everything in my power to avoid her. She and Cherie - unlike Vikki who I had a trusting feeling toward due to their school friendship – had only met briefly and barely knew one-another, so I had no pre-existing, deja-vu, positive feelings toward Kirsty, and that scared me.

I was not sure how she would react to the explanation of my origins, and whether she would accept me as me, or whether she would be a closed-minded, horrid person and call me a “liar” and a “fake” and all manner of unpleasantries, returning to “the comic-book scene” (the collection of comic-book themed events and the people whom attended them, organised them and guest-ed at them, etc) with her findings.

After seeing Kirsty's photograph and then seeing her in person at my doctor's surgery, I utterly ignored her, hid my face as best I could, and then did not leave the house for weeks and made every effort to ask our mutual friends where she was and when so that I would never have to see her. Basically, I was a big fraidy-cat.

Post-Blog, however, I finally found the courage inside myself to send her a message via social media with a link to my first post, and we have slowly grown to be good friends, in regular contact.

 - - - -

Mark (above) and my
fiance Robert-James (below)

In fact, because of my friendship with Kirsty, I have rekindled things with my “Amy Pond” - also known as Mark Sutton - “The first face I ever saw”.

"Mark and I remained on-and-off partners and friends during which time we had many “ups-and-downs”, many happy memories and many painful ones, and although we have now parted ways, he will always be my Amy Pond, and I his Doctor." - a quote from an earlier Blog post

I have learned now, from these good people, that this deja-vu is no thing to be afraid of. But it is some thing to be ignored. Cherie and I are two very different people with different lives and some one whom she considered a friend, I may dislike, or whom she may have hated, I might gain adoration for.

Since “coming out” in this Blog I have also had an opportunity to speak with many of my predecessor’s friends, work colleagues and those that she attended educational institutions with, giving me plenty of my unique form of deja-vu. It puzzles me how she lost contact with all these good people and how she felt the need to “go-it-alone” through the hardship that led to my existence, but I feel comfort in knowing that reading my Blog and speaking with me has given them some sort of closure. Deja-vu cannot be a bad thing if it gives good people closure, can it?

That said, I may claim I have no thing to be afraid of, but I have a very vivid feeling that I shall maintain my record of fraidy-cat-y-ness. It’s an Illi thing.

- - - -

* Cosplay translates from Japanese as “costume-play” and is the art of dressing-up as characters from television, film, games, etc, often acting in-character, posing for photographs, etc.

** Not until November 1^st, 2012.

*** But at least I tried!

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.

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.

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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!

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Illisia Adams: circa Nov 2011.

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

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* 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”