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.

What Defines Me? (The Consequences Of A Rash Choice: Part Two)

I have been struggling for weeks now, to find my words. I am not sure I have even found them yet. But, I promised a friend that I would try, so here I am, typing away and just hoping that my heart can speak through my typing fingers.

I am struggling, because I made a choice that I think the best way to describe would be that I am regretting. I am unaccustomed to feeling regret. One of the things that makes me, me, is the fact that I have a strict "No regrets. Ever.” policy. What do you do? How do you move on when something in your life has changed the very foundations of your identity?

The Consequences Of A Rash Choice

 I am not happy. But I am trying to be.

Five months ago, to-the-day, I made a very, very rash decision, and one that I shall have to deal with the consequences of – for good or bad, better or worse – for the rest of my life.

My ex-fiance, Robert-James, proposed marriage to me. Not the “real” kind with rings and a Church and a certificate, however. The “old-fashioned kind”, where it is just the two of us, saying our vows, dedicating our lives to one-another, and living as man and wife. So, we ran away together and eloped. Sort-of.

How Neil Gaiman Saved My Life

“My name is Illisia Adams, and I am four years old.”* are the words that originally formed the beginning of this Post. However, I am now almost seven. Two years have past, and here I am, still trying to compose the words from my heart and my head into something readable for you all.

Having nearly died again last year, however, and Mr Gaiman being one of the things that pulled me through my hospital stay and the weeks that past, yet again (for the third – and hopefully final – time) I truly feel like it is “now or never”; so, without further adue…

[Please note: I must forewarn that this Post discusses my depression and attempts at suicide and may be upsetting for some readers - especially new ones - but is intended to be positive, over-all. Proceed with caution]

- - - - 

Neil Gaiman. Author, and Illi-life-saver.

Illi-ism #5: Every Day Is Christmas Day

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Powerful Poem, and Gratitude To Loved Ones

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

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

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

- - - - 

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

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

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

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

- - - - 

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

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

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

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

- - - - 

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

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

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

- - - - 

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

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

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

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

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

- - - - 

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

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

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

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

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

The Importance Of Being Illisia

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

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

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

- - - -

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

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

- - - -

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

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

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

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

- - - -

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

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

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

- - - -

My feet, when I returned home.

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

- - - -

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

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

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

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

- - - -

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

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

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

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

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

- - - - 

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

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

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

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

- - - -

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

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)

Amy Pond and The Doctor, Reunited (Part One); (aka Thank You, Hans Zimmer!)

I did not post last week, and I had a very good reason for not doing-so. Last week was a life-changing experience for me where I faced my past, overcame my fears and embraced my future. The concert itself was on April 6th, but before, afterward and during were very busy for me!

- - - -

My fiancé Robert-James and I went to London's SSE Wembley Arena to see the musical genius Hans Zimmer perform live in concert. It required many hours of travel, very little sleep and a whole lot of tolerance of the human nature when coping with commuting aka “Londoners” and tourists in a hurry to get “from-a-to-b” aka “ow, ow, ow; watch where you are going!” as I am being pushed and shoved from side-to-side by passers-by who have no consideration for others (with or without my disabilities).

That in-un-itself is an achievement. For those not keeping score, I am physically disabled and have agoraphobia (fear of the outside) and social phobia, with an occasional dash of claustrophobia (fear of enclosed spaces). Visiting London required leaving the hidey-hole safety zone of my residence, regular contact with strangers, and when using the London Underground there were some uncomfortable close-quarters encounters that had me losing my breath and reaching for my inhaler.

- - - -

Life changing. #HansZimmerLive @Illisia pic.twitter.com/Y23pmiBuk5

— Hans Zimmer Live (@HansZimmerLive) April 15, 2016

Interestingly enough, the composer Hans Zimmer himself also has phobias (stage fright; self-confessed “hermit”) and what was a life-changing event for me was the same for him, as he faced his fears, stating in the souvenir programme “You cannot have fear rule your life, or indeed dictate or prevent your actions”. Reading this statement from him gave me an extra push of courage to face the crowds within the arena and I enjoyed the performance all-the-more, knowing he and I were “in-it-together”; he was helping me with my fears, and I with his.

“You cannot have fear rule your life, or indeed dictate or prevent your actions”. - Hans Zimmer regarding his first-ever public performance(s).

- - - -

In addition to this achievement, I find it striking when I do a “before and after” of myself this-time-last-year, and the year before. This is because Robert-James and I were not alone; we in fact attended with our very good friends Kirsty [Swan] and Mark [Sutton]. If you are not sure why this is something to be proud of, I shall explain.

Mark and Kirsty in their seats at our VIP table,
courtesy of  SSE

This time last year and the year before, I was utterly terrified of the idea of seeing both those individuals, let alone speaking with them, and the idea of being so close as friends to see Hans Zimmer together? Well, that was ludicrous! I was an absolute fraidy-cat. I had convinced myself that both these individuals would have a negative effect on my life, and I made every effort to ensure that they not be in it. Today, however, I speak confidently of the pair being my “besties” and I would not have wanted to share The Hans Zimmer Experience with any one else.

They even bought us the tickets. (We went "halfsies" on the accommodation) 

- - - -

Fear is clearly a very powerful thing, and I overcame it in leaps-and-bounds. I faced my fears of Mark and Kirsty and I realised that they were unfounded. Kirsty had no ill-will toward me what-so-ever, contrary to what many of our then-“friends” would have me and her (and Mark) believe. Therein we can now see the power of “he-said-she-said” gossiping, and have since decided to disregard third party opinions.

Mark and I have a very complex past, but it is – as the word suggests – in the past. He is a changed man, and he has apologised many, many times for his actions toward me when we were in a relationship and when we were friends who lived together.

I was of course not innocent in my actions either and did my fair share of hurt toward him, the biggest of which was the day that I decided to tell him I hated him and never wanted to see him again, contrary to what I really felt. At the time I decided it was better he not be in my life, so he could be happy. This is something that I will discuss at length next week in “Part Two”.

- - - -

My fiance Robert-James and I in our VIP-upgrade seats.

So, in conclusion, I have many thanks to extend to Mark Sutton, Kirsty Swan, Robert-James Brazier and Hans Zimmer. A very special mention and a great-big-thank-you must also go to SSE for giving us a FREE VIP upgrade! I think that if I had been sitting with all the crowds, I would have struggled that-much-more to enjoy the show, and we all certainly never thought we would be seeing HZ up-close, only metres away from us!

I also have one thing to say to past-me and her fears, as I look at how very, very far I have come, with the help of good friends, a brilliant but shy composer, and self-discovery:

“TAKE THAT, YOU SCOUNDREL! Life is actually super neato!”

Super-neato is trademark Illisia Adams 2016. No, not really ;-) 

Ps/Side-Note: I experienced a lot of that uniquely-Illi dejavu on our trip!
Another PS/Side-Note: "Amy Pond and The Doctor, Reunited" refers to how I often draw comparative with The Doctor and his companion Amy Pond for the relationship between Mark and myself.

Deja-Vu

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

- - - - 

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

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

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

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

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

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

- - - - 

Cherie signing one of her comic books at a convention.

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

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

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

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

- - - -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 - - - -

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

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

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

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

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

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

- - - -

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

** Not until November 1^st, 2012.

*** But at least I tried!

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.

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.