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.

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.

Living With Sleep Paralysis

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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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.

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* 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.

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.

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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.

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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”.

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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.

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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.

NHS: Clare Catford: I Was Addicted To Love

Love Addicts Anonymous: 40 Questions To Help Determine If You Are A Love Addict

e-Harmony on love addiction

Psychology Today: Love Addiction

Wikipedia entry on love addiction

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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.