DISCLAIMER

DISCLAIMER: It should be noted that the content of this Blog is not intended as inflammatory. It is my life story, but no harm is intended by its content whatsoever. I have a strict "No Slander" policy. Most of the content is purely of my own personal opinion of my life experiences, but mentions of criminal actions I have evidence for. Any thing from Cherie's life, I take from her friends, her family and her diaries, not myself. Thank you in advance for your understanding.
Showing posts with label Matthew. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Matthew. Show all posts

Sunday, 17 December 2017

Dear Daniel


I have had to do a lot of really intense, somewhat depressing writing lately, but none of it has been for my Blog. It has been several months, and a lot has happened, so it is going to take some time to catch-you-up, my readers, but I shall try my best.

First-things-first, I want to direct you to the final part of one of my most recent posts, wherein I state I am going to start by taking some space to try to find myself again,as a single, independent woman., and I must now confess that this independent, empowered single woman stance did not last long at all.

After a year of longing looks, almost-kisses, want-to-but-can’t moments, myself and one Douglas [Parkinson] “DTRd” (defined the relationship) and decided to officially date.

Wednesday, 15 June 2016

NO REGRETS.

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

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

- - - - 

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

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

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

- - - - 

I know that for a lot of people, having no regrets seems like a difficult – if not impossible – task. After all, is it not in human nature to regret? I would argue against this**. My stance on the matter is this:
Illi-ism #1: No regrets. Ever.
If you regret any life experience, you are doubting who you are today because they are our building blocks.” - a quote from my Illi-isms.

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

The extreme for this is that I have been through so much in my lifetime that no one should ever have to go through – physically, mentally, emotionally and sexually assaulted, robbed, burgled, lied to – but I remain vigilant and positive, through all of it. I am not happy about what I have been through. It makes me sad. But I am also very proud of how strong it has made me, of the choices I have made since those events and of the moral person I continue to be.
When we were happy, before everything
went wrong. 28th July 2014.

- - - - 


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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

August 10th 2015: "We met a gentleman at Ramsgate Train
Station with a bag full of puppies, accompanied
by their mother and father. So sweet!"
Furthermore, I need to state that this means that my ex-boyfriend, ex-boss, ex-friend Matthew B was correct in his judgement of our (Robert-James and my) coupling being a poor match and his reasoning behind this opinion also proved to be true. I shan't go into detail, but one thing is clear here, and that is in the ending of the “RJ-IA” romance, I have suffered two very heavy losses, but neither of which I can regret.

I lost my fiance, and I lost my friendship (and potentially rekindled romance) with my ex, Matthew B***. He made it clear that he did not want to continue being a part of my life because I chose Robert-James and he knew it was doomed to fail and that I would be hurt. If he ever reads this, he can quietly and smugly utter “I told you so” and know that it is well-founded.
"Enjoy your life with this replacement Mark. I do not want to have to stand by and watch you destroy everything you fought so hard for." - Matthew B's last words to me, via FaceBook Message.

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

- - - - 

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

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

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

- - - -

*Eviction notice, for one!
**Except I would not, because not arguing is another Illi-ism.
***Just over a year ago, right after E3 2015...
****(although I do have plenty of faults, I feel they are far outweighed by things I am proud of)

Monday, 4 January 2016

Un-Sticking The Love Addiction Rut

Me with my new glasses. Apparently
I needed them and never knew!
Forgive me, readers, for I have sinned. It has been six, long months since my last confession (aka Blog post). I have circum to sloth and fallen prey to habit and complacency in my day-to-day life. 

Essentially, I have been in what is commonly referred to as a “rut”. Today, however, I – figuratively - stand tall and proudly state that that “rut” officially ends; because today I signify this by returning to writing my (/our) life story.

- - - - 

Week, after week, after week I sit at my keyboard and think about what to write. Some times I even manage a few paragraphs. However, I always fall short of completion, for various reasons.

My number one reason, I have come to realise, and the topic for my “come-back” post is depression and loss. It has taken me a lot of soul-searching and self-analysing to realise that, un-coincidentally, six months ago was when one of the most important people in my life left me very abruptly and we have not seen one another nor spoken since.

My last update spoke about recovering from my love addiction, but I have in fact still been suffering from it.

- - - - 

My fiance Robert-James and I with our puppy
Poppy, the day that we brought her home.
My ex-boyfriend Matthew met with my then-boyfriend, now-fiance Robert-James and I and it did not go well. He became utterly convinced that we were a terrible fit and that “RJ” would be my undoing. He left in anger and sent me several very long, passionate messages and promptly “Blocked” me on social media so that I could not help him see reason.

I respect his decision, but I do not agree with his reasons. I and all who know me well enough can see that Robert has been a huge, positive influence on me; helping me to grow as a person and become more independent, rekindling friendships that I thought were long past and of course getting me through my past traumas step-by-step, day-by-day.

- - - - 

So, for the past six months I have been happy. But also sad. I gained a future husband, but I lost some one that I cared – and still care – for deeply. He and I may have had our “ups-and-downs” but I choose to concentrate on the “ups”, and this is why I miss him almost every day. I hope that he will return to our friendship in the future, but I think that it is time that I move on and realise that I cannot dwell on some thing that I have no power over. No amount of (ignored) phone calls, emails or gifts will make him return to me, no matter though I wish it might.

The problem with being a love addict is that it can seriously “creep-up” on you some times. I have, essentially, been in six months of denial. I was concentrating so much on the fact that I had found my “Happily Ever After” with my Robert-James, recovering from my love addiction and forming a healthy, stable relationship, that I did not realise that I have been in deep, solumn mourning for the loss of a different kind of love; a friendship that has been with me for literally more than half of my life.

- - - -

Ironically, my last post spoke about how quickly I was able to move on from the loss of my friendship. I stated confidently “I was able to recover from the loss of one of my closest confidants, friends and ex-love within days, rather than moping and mourning for months.” The irony is in that last part, where I reference my usual moping-for-months pattern that I presumed I had passed from, but this is obviously not the case.

So, it has essentially taken me six months, but I think that now, finally - though it pains me ever-so – I need to let go, because this mourning-filled rut needs to end.

- - - - 

Mark and I have welcomed one another into each-others
lives again. Scratch missed him, clearly!
- - - -

I have done a great deal of personal growth within the past six months. I have made new friends, rebuilt bridges with old ones, I see a therapist frequently to help me with my traumas, I am going outside more often and even alone, without Robert-James to cling on to, and I have even finally managed to pick up my camera again for the first time since my “mild sexual assault*”. However, I have, quite unintentionally, been holding my self back with my sorrow, rather than moving forward with my joy.

So, today is the day that I send my most sincere, best wishes out to my old friend Matthew and bare him a fond farewell. He knows where I am, should he decide he wants us to be friends again, but I need to stop holding on to that hope and instead embrace the love that I know is real; the love of friends and family that are still a part of my life.

Good-bye, Matthew. Hello, Illisia Adams, still-recovering love addict extraordinaire!

- - - - 

* As stated by the authorities. This is a topic that I shall be writing about in the near future.

Thursday, 25 June 2015

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

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

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

- - - - 

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

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

- - - - 

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

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

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

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

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

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

- - - - 

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

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

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

Monday, 16 March 2015

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


Myself and Daniel (cut out because he is
camera-shy) atop London, in a London Eye carriage.
This past week has been a rather eventful one. In fact, the week end had more excitement than many others combined! It has been a real “game-changer” for me.

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

- - - - 


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

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

- - - -  

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

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

- - - -

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

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

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

Our game of Magic: The Gathering on Saturday night.
- - - - 


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

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


- - - - 

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

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

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

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


- - - - 

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

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

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

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

- - - - 

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


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

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


- - - - 

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

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

- - - - 

NB: I shall be seeking compensation from National Rail for the distress and the money that I had to spend because of them.
* To be discussed at a later date.

Monday, 9 March 2015

Living With Love Addiction

Myself and (ex-)partner Matthew at our prime. Photograph credit: NChanted Photography
I have spoken in prior entries about my time incaptivity, and how I returned to my capture after I escaped and remained on-off romantically involved and friends with him for years, against my better judgement. Now I must speak out about why.

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

- - - - 

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

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

- - - - 

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

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

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

- - - - 
Myself and my ferrets Rambo, Luna and Hatti

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

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

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

- - - - 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Myself and friends at my first public appearance as a single person:
Sci-Fi By The Sequel, a convention held in Herne Bay.
I went on a few dates with Jon - the gentleman in the center - soon after.
Last year I dabbled in “casual dating”, but it was far too intense for me. I was getting very attached, very quickly, and suffering from serious depression and withdrawal whenever I was not on a date, holding hands or kissing. I also unfortunately suffered at the hands of a mild sexual assault by one of the men who was interested in me*, having allowed myself to trust him more than I should have, which has been a major set-back for me.

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

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

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For more information about love addiction, here are some links.
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* This will be discussed at a later date.
** This is how I describe it when I talk about what happened
*** Which is quite literally half of my life!
**** It should be noted that I am very happy for them and we are good friends again, now.