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…*****

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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.

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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.

Growing Pains

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Robert and myself doing a webcam "selfie"

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

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

- - - - 

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

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

- - - - 

* To be discussed at a later date.

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

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

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

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

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

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

Quite Interesting... + Ask Me Anything!

Due to being very sick throughout the weekend, there has been a delay in the planned post which discusses the what-where-when-who circumstances for Cherie's disappearance/death.

I apologise for this, but I am only human, after all, and prone to illness.

I am instead taking this opportunity to do a bullet-pointed list with some interesting facts and figures about the two of us, and our differences and similarities.

FACTS ABOUT US

• Cherie – aka “Cher” - 's real name as written on her Birth Certificate on August 25^th 1987, was Cherie-Louise Donovan.
• At different points in her life she had many different careers. She has been a webcast host, a “booth babe” model/cosplayer at conventions, a (published) comic book colourist and writer, an Editor, a journalist, a customer services person, a sales representative, an animal care assistant, a PR/Marketing specialist, and goodness knows what else! Her Curriculum Vitae is impressive!
• Cherie was working on a book that she was calling Just 'Cause that would feature much of her poetry and works of fiction. I am debating publishing it in her memory and giving all profits to a mental health charity.
• I have three “Birthdays” that I celebrate. August 25^th is the physical Anniversary of the birth of this body, June 01^st (2010) is the Anniversary of the date when Cherie “died” and gave birth to me, and November 01^st (2011) is the Anniversary of the day that I gave myself a name and chose to be my own person.
• November 01^st, 2012, is the date on which I legally changed my name to Illisia Adams.

DIFFERENCES BETWEEN US

• My predecessor had a very vivid imagination, from an early age. In contrast, I struggle to picture anything in my mind other than what is directly in my view at any given point in time. I cannot even read novels and “picture” the characters, places and events, but rather simply process the information that I am reading.
• Cherie was a published author and poet. Personally, I have found that I have an inability to write works of fiction, or to rhyme, though I have tried both.
• Cherie could not whistle, no matter how many people tried to teach her. I learned to whistle within weeks, and it came naturally with no need to be taught.
• I adore spicy foods and alcohol, whereas in contrast Cherie hated the “burning” sensation that both gave her, and avoided any food or drink in either category whenever possible.
• Cherie was a “lacto-ovo vegetarian” (there are many different types) throughout most of her life, until 2009-2010 when she became a meat and fish eater again. I am also a meat eater, but I will only eat meat and fish that I know is free range or “responsibly sourced”, etc, due to my ethics.
• Completely different taste in music.
• She spoke quite commonly with slang, etc, whereas I am "posh" (as my friends put it).
• At school Cherie was analysed as being dyslexic, whereas – as far as I can tell - I am not. This is possibly because I have been using Lumosity and studying hard with books, etc, from an early age, whereas she spent most of her academic years living in a fantasy world, which limited her mental development. Interestingly, dyslexia is a learning difficulty that is caused by a physical problem with the brain, but my dedication to academics may have helped me overcome that, or she may have been inaccurately diagnosed.
• Cherie considered herself to be a “Pagan-Christian”, some one who believed in “The One True God” and Jesus Christ, but who also believed in worshipping the Sun and the Earth as though they are Gods, celebrated the “Solstices”, did spells, etc. I was initially of this belief, during The First Year, after which I decided that I wanted to explore various faiths before deciding which I wanted to follow. After attending Alpha Course in 2013 at New Life Family Church in Margate, I decided to be simply Christian and study the teachings of The Holy Bible and attend Church whenever I can.

SIMILARITIES BETWEEN US

• I share Cherie's passion for photography. She only had her camera for less than a year when she died, though, whereas I have pretty much been using it since a few weeks into my life, so it is like second-nature to me.
• She and I can both be classed as “geeks” and/or “nerds”. Cherie classed herself as a “gerd”, a name that she invented for someone who is half-geek, half-nerd, and more geek than nerd. By her definition, this would make me a “neek”, someone who is more nerd than geek.
• Manners. From what I can tell, Cherie's parents raised her to say “please” and “thank you”, to open doors for others, etc. I have always been polite, even before I learned to speak.

ASK ME ANYTHING!

I am going to use this week's post to encourage readers to post Comments with questions for me to consider answering.

Be you a friend or family member of my predecessor, a friend or associate of mine, or be you someone who has simply stumbled upon my Blog, I would like to hear from you.

All are welcome; I only ask that you be civil. Comments will be Moderated.

God Bless you all!

Thank you.

Getting Physical

Post by Cherie Donovan.

There are many advantages, and disadvantages, to being born into an adult's body. I have discussed much of the mental journey that I have had to take, but after a visit to the dentist this week, I think it is time I talk about the physicalities of this re-birth of mine. This also gives me an opportunity to write something a little more light-hearted in amongst the difficult topics.

Cherie's medical history is a very complex one, and I must say, it has been a struggle to live with. Most of her mental faults left this body when she did, but any physical faults became mine.

From the day that I was born, for instance, I have had a damaged knee that often throbs with pain, and struggles to function. There are many things that most children – or adults – are able to enjoy that I cannot. Walking is a difficulty, let alone swimming, which is some thing that I can sadly only dream about experiencing.

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A photograph taken at the hospital in 2009 after Cherie fell out of bed in the night and on top of  her exercise bike and various belongings below, breaking/spraining her nose and covering herself in bruises.

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The doctors seem utterly clueless, no matter how many that I visit with the issue. On the flip-side, however, the damage does come with an amusing back-story... She fell under a bus. Seriously.

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In her early teenage years my predecessor on a day off from school (reason unknown, it was likely a School Holiday) was in Bexleyheath Town Centre with our mother. They were to journey home via the use of public transport – [the] bus - but after a few stops it became clear that the vehicle was far too crowded and noisy, so they decided to exit and wait a while for an emptier, quieter bus. Upon stopping, mother was able to vacate, but Cherie was not.

Due to the sheer number and noise level of the people on the bus, the driver did not realise that she had not exited and wanted to do so, choosing to close the door, when she was halfway out – and in – of it. This meant that half Cherie's body was hanging outside of the bus, and half clinging to the inside, as the driver began to accelerate...

Were it not for mother's fast-thinking, keeping ahold of her daughter and screaming at the driver for help, I may not be writing this today, because this body would have fallen underneath the wheels. The driver did open the door, but did not decelerate. Mother saved our life, having already given birth to it.

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My teeth in the state that my predecessor left them
aka my "Before" I went to the dentist this week.

My "after" shot. You can see how the dentist has filled and whitened, etc.
A huge improvement! My apologies for the low quality of this one. 

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That incident was of course not Cherie's fault, but rather the driver's. Her teeth, however, were, as I discovered, quite mistreated during her lifetime, and as a result I have had to visit the dentist half-a-dozen times within the last couple of years, the most recent trip for which I lay awake for an hour for drilling, whitening and fillings. It was an uncomfortable experience to-say-the-least, but completely necessary, given all the damage she left through years of forgetfulness, poor diet (full of sugar) and of course, the dreaded “can't be asked” excuse.

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Photographs of me at event "The BFG" (aka "The Big Friendly Gathering") hosted by my parents in 2011, where I learned that Cherie had left me with some skills that I had not until then known about... (Wearing a knee support and with a walking stick to help me cope with the disabled knee)

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It is not all negative, however. There have been many occasions where “muscle memory” occurs and I discover that this body – and therefore I – has talents that I was unaware of, or was aware of but never tried.

Her friends inform me that Cherie often told people that she “[knew] five different martial arts” and that she could “kick everyone's ass”, but how true this is, I do not know. I can tell you matter-of-factually that I have some ability to kick, punch, and use some (training) weaponry that she left in her flat, but I actually think that she was exaggerating somewhat because it seems quite limited. Of course, that might be because of my physical disability, being “out-of-practice”, and being a naturally very peaceful person.

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Another positive is her singing voice. Sadly I lack her confidence (a personality trait I envy) so I never sing in public (where as she did), but I have recently taken to recording and publishing songs via the use of the karaoke service 'SingSnap' because it was on my Living List*.

Interestingly, there are also recordings on this website under Cherie's name which I recorded during “The First Year”; in fact, my first few months of life. It is quite interesting to listen to both sets of recordings and compare. I can really hear the pain in my voice in the 2010 recordings; I think that I was still very much in-tune, emotionally, to my “twin”. One of her “orders” that she left inside my mind was to record Because Of You by the artist Kelly Clarkson - some thing that she had always wanted to do but never quite “got around to” - because it was a song that “hit-home” for her quite powerfully, reflecting her past** and how it affected her present.

It is a shame that she did not record any songs during her life time, though. I would have liked to have truly compared us. As-is, I can still hear a difference between the singing voice that I had in my early life, when I was still “in transition” (as I put it) to how I sing today, now that I have a well established, unique personality to hers.

You can hear similarities, definitely, but we/I also sound very different. I think that I have more control over my emotions now and do not let them show in my singing, and – possibly because I practice often – my over-all range of notes is superior. I am definitely much softer, as well. She had a very “gritty” voice from what people tell me.

Cherie's SingSnap Profile

My SingSnap Profile

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Post by Illisia Adams.

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So, it is a shame that I was born into some one else's body and therefore into its faults rather than that of my own, but, then again, I am also grateful for some of the interesting things that this body has “learned” that I am discovering as I live my life. Having a "hot bod" (as others have put it) is also not a bad thing, certainly.

Whether the positives will out-weigh the negatives, or whether I will be able to rid myself of those negatives through trial and error at visits to medical professionals, remains to be seen...

For now, I am simply grateful to even be here at all, in this world, and for this I must thank Cherie (of course), her mother and father, and, as aforementioned, the people that helped me grow in to who I am today.

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* A concept that helps me catch-up on the years of life that I have missed through living experiences that many people do when they are young, or take for granted, etc. I shall discuss this in depth at a later date.

** To be discussed at a later date.

The First Year: Part Three: Recovery & Development

Please note: This is a direct continuation from The First Year: Part One and Part Two

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I made Cherie's New Eltham flat feel like a home. Here you can see her impressive DVD collection
that was left to me, and how I showcased family memorabilia to remind me of my roots.

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Mark pleaded with me to take him back, but I told him that our relationship was never real, that it was based on lies, deception and feelings that were never truly mine. I insisted that if he truly wanted to be with me, he would have to tell Maryanne the truth about his no longer being in love with her, end their engagement, and then get-to-know me for me, not just wanting me because I have the face of the woman he cared for, but because he wants me.

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It was at this point that I decided to spend more time exploring who I wanted to be, and pursue my growing feelings for Tommy-Lee by spending more time with him. He may not have been “my Amy Pond”, but he was still there for me the day that I was “born” and unlike Mark, always seemed to see me when he looked at me, rather than Cherie, perhaps because he and Cherie were never romantically involved. He made me feel unique, which meant the world to me.

I also took the time to get-to-know Maryanne (as priorly mentioned) and Hayley, another friend from the prior life, who became like sisters to me. Maryanne was shy, quiet and kind, and in contrast Hayley had a very social, perky personality and was always full of life, although both had big, warm, open hearts. This meant that I had a chance to see many different aspects of womanhood, of the female personality, if-you-will, so rather than “copy” what I saw, I was able to pick-and-choose what I liked about both my friends and use them for inspiration as I developed myself. I owe them both much to who I am today.

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Hayley (left) and I (right)

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I still held on to Cherie's name and tried to live her life, attending many parties hosted by her friends, playing on her Xbox 360 games console leading her Gaming Clan into battle in her sted, trying to get her business Dark Raven Productions off-the-ground, but after my experience being locked away for three months in that house, I spent less time in Dartford with the prior life, and more time in New Eltham, developing my own.

I would often insist that any visitors come to New Eltham to see me, rather than me to Dartford to see them, for fear of a repeat scenario, and I confess, because I had developed a nasty case of agoraphobia after my captivity. This did, however, give me the freedom to explore my predecessor's home and belongings, which made me realise that although I shared her face, I shared very little else. I listened to her music and wore her clothes, but found that the clothing felt “wrong” and the music was so loud and angry that I really disliked it.

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Maryanne visiting me at my New Eltham residency, playing with the
training (plastic) sai weaponry that Cherie left there.

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"He often saw me, when I never could." - regarding Tommy-Lee

Tommy-Lee and Mark both visited me and made their romantic intentions toward me clear. Mark insisted that although he missed Cherie, he wanted to encourage me to be my own person. I never truly believed him, however, because he was still working with me to create Dark Raven Productions and still encouraged me to use Cherie's name and wear her clothing, etc. Tommy-Lee, in contrast, told me much about my predecessor and taught me that I did not have to follow in her footsteps, that I could develop my own tastes in music, my own style in dress, my own hobbies and interests. He often saw me, when I never could.

In retrospect, I wish that I had pursued my growing feelings toward Tommy-Lee, rather than allow the “residue feelings” for Mark to win over me. But, I also know that one should never have any regrets. Every decision that we make and every thing that we do in life brings us to who we are today, so if we regret one moment of our past, we show negativity toward who we are now, which is not the case with me. I am very proud of who I am today, and therefore hold to no regrets.

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Mark and I with friends at the Euro Gamer Expo 2011, shortly after I "came out" with my new name and developed personality. By this point I had chosen to be with Mark, and as you can see from this photograph, we were (relatively) happy together, although you can also see how protective/controlling he was of me, always holding on to me.

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I chose to pursue a relationship with Mark, even against my better judgement, knowing full well that he had abused me. Love – even if it is not your own* – can be a powerful blinder to the facts. Sadly, this decision meant that Tommy-Lee and I slowly grew apart. He moved out of the home that he shared with Mark, Maryanne and Matt, and we have barely seen nor spoken to one another since.

I think that the reason why I chose Mark over Tommy-Lee was a mix between the confused passionate love* that my predecessor had for him as opposed to more basic feelings that I was developing with time for Tommy-Lee “winning-out”, and the fact that three months in captivity with Mark had left me suffering from withdrawal symptoms and reliability on him that I think would be described by mental health professionals as Stockholm Syndrome...

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I am, even now, years later, still suffering from that Syndrome. There will be days when I literally cannot stop thinking about Mark, even if I am in love with some one else and even after he raped me and at one point literally tried to kill me**. It is a very serious condition that takes a lot of strength to recover from, and I am still working towards recovery, even now.

Victims of kidnapping and domestic abuse often suffer from this very serious mental illness, and my heart goes out to all the men and women in the world who are suffering with me. You can recover. There is a light at the end of that tunnel, even if some days that tunnel seems to be long...

It is like recovering from an addiction. You have to keep reminding yourself of the bad times, rather than thinking about how good the thing that you are addicted to made you feel, and you must persevere against your want to return to that addiction and realise that you do not need it to survive.

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Tommy-Lee did have a lasting effect on me, however, even after we parted ways, because it was his guidance that led to my exploration of my sense of self. It was he that taught me that I could be who ever that I wanted to be, and ultimately he who encouraged me to re-vamp my wardrobe to develop my own style, vary my intake of books, music and television to develop my own “taste”, and, when I was ready, to abandon Cherie's life and choose my own name.

I may have chosen to give my heart to Mark, but the development of my soul – what makes me, me – happened as a result of spending time with my two “sisters” Maryanne and Hayley, and my what-could-have-been, Tommy-Lee.

“Illisia Adams” was born because of the love and support of these three very special people. Only one of them now remains in my life - Maryanne - but the other two will forever be a part of me. I (figuratively) owe them my life.

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*This “love” was in fact “residue feelings” left over from my predecessor, as priorly discussed.

**An incident to be discussed at a later date.
NB: Interestingly enough, I can find no photographs of myself and Mark together as a couple, just-us, nor of myself and Tommy-Lee, nor or myself and Maryanne and Hayley. Although I shall of course continue looking...

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Fin.

The First Year: Part Two: Captivity

Please note that this is a direct continuation from The First Year: Part One.

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The house where I was born (right side) in Dartford, and
where I spent three months locked away in captivity.

Mark and Maryanne lived in a Christian-run household with two other house-mates; Tommy-Lee* and Matt*. The house was let to them by their Church in Dartford, Kent, for those in need, much like the YMCA or a homelessness charity. I technically held a tenancy in New Eltham in South East London, but I spent more time during my first year at their household than at mine.

Tommy-Lee was very much a “lady's man” who I can best draw comparitive with Barney from the television sitcom How I Met Your Mother, often claiming he could “have any woman [he] wants” and although he was of the Christian faith, he often sinned and jested that “God would forgive [him] anyway” as long as he said sorry. Matt, in contrast, was a quiet (although he enjoyed loud, angry music), secluded individual with a very private past.

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All the members of the household were friends with my predecessor and – as I am sure you can imagine – they struggled with the change from her to me. They were all well aware of Cherie's past battles with mental health, not least which the fact that at one point she had multiple personalities, so it was not too far a stretch for them to understand what had happened, but I think that (initially) they wanted her back.

As the months passed however, I think it became clear that their friend (and lover, in Mark's case) would not return, and they helped me develop my social skills, showed me the world, and encouraged me to become my own person. I grew particularly close to Tommy-Lee, who told me that he himself had struggled with his sense of identity, and in all honesty, I found him to be warm and charming, which was confusing for me, given the contradicting “residue feelings” (as I called them) of love that I had for Mark left over from Cherie's lifetime which were not truly mine.

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My residency in New Eltham

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I often visited the house, because it felt more like a home to me than the residence that I was legally supposed to reside in, given the fact that it was where I was “born”, and where the only people that I actually knew, lived. The Church that rented them the house had very strict rules, however, which were broken on a regular basis for my presence. Firstly, no one was allowed to visit after ten in the evening. Secondly, no intimate relations. Both these rules were broken repeatedly by Mark when he – quite literally – decided to invite me over for a visit and then not let me leave for a grand total of three months...

During these three months of captivity I spent most of my time literally locked inside Mark's bedroom, which was very small. I felt like I was in a cage; I was only able to leave the room or the house with his accompaniment, and even then, very rarely. I played computer games, listened to music (he had a vast collection of bootleg MP3s on his computer so I had much to choose from), danced and generally surfed the internet when alone, and when in his company, I was often used for sex**.

I became utterly dependent on my captor for every thing that I needed in life - for food, clothing and socialising (etc) – to the point where when I was finally released, I had lost what little independence I had developed and I had a nasty case of agoraphobia. He used me like a play-thing for all that time and I also lived in constant fear of being discovered by his landlords, who would on visit without warning to inspect the property and, were I found, there would be consequences. It was a big, nasty blow on my development.

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Mark and Maryanne, engaged, 2009.

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There was a positive side-effect of my time in captivity, however, because the more time that I spent at their household with the four of them, the more that I began to realise my relationship with Mark was unethical - that it would hurt Maryanne if she knew – and the more it felt wrong, so I ended our secret “relationship” when I finally insisted on my freedom and walked out that door.

This was a big, big step for me towards becoming who I am today. That was when I realised that I did not have to follow instructions, be they Cherie's that she left in her mind, Mark's that he gave me to sleep with him and keep it secret, or any one else's. I could make my own choices and live my own life.

It was at this point that I decided that I could leave his home and return to mine, without fear of reprimand. That I did not need him...

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*I am keeping their last names secret.

**As aforementioned in The First Year: Part One, I consider this to be rape.

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To be continued next week in the third and final part... The First Year: Part Three: Recovery & Development.