Dear Matt [+Bonus Blog]

Introduction

Hello, readers. This Blog is an odd one. It comes in two parts; the first being a "letter" of-sorts to someone, which I wrote prior to their Birthday, but am only now posting after their Birthday has passed, and after several weeks of breathing exercises and courage gathering; the second being the originally composed Blog post, dated December 22nd, 2018. Yes, I have been working on writing this for that long... So, without further-ado... [forewarning: this post is longer than a lot of others]

The Once And Future Illisia: aka You CAN Learn Confidence In The Classroom aka DWP Are Not The Enemy

I got an influx of worried and surprised messages after I
posted this on Facebook, because of how out-of-character it is
for me to show so much skin in public. "What happened?!
How are you so confident all of a sudden?" etc,
Well, let me explain how, below... :-) 

Note: The course was two months ago, now.

So, before I post the long and painful-to-write, emotional rollercoaster of a Blog post that I have “aaaaalmost finished” (every week for the past several months...), I want to share with you a nice, big dose of positivity; because this-time-two-months-ago, I was, well... How to describe it, really(?)... If I had posted the really sad post, it would be easier to describe, but let’s just go with “A MESS”, and leave-it-at-that, for now.

Fast-forward a month from that miserable Illisia, and I am semi-regularly going-out alone, filing to make GEEKETEERS (something which, again, I am super-sorry that I have not posted about yet, but, in-short, is me trying to become a legitimate business owner) a business, applying for funding for the aforementioned business, making homemade bread and pasta etc, and even thinking about voluntary work outside of my home, with actual interaction with actual people.

Cyber Bullying Is #NotCool

Hm… Where do I start? This week’s Post is going to be a mixed one. I am very upset and emotional about the topic at-hand, but I have also learned some very hard lessons, and have had to do some serious growing-up. The phrase “you live, and you learn” has applied a lot these past few months, with my recent mistakes, but I never thought that I would live through what I can only describe as “cyber bullying” from people whom I considered to be friends, and to learn that I did not know people as well as I thought that I did, and that, sometimes, you have to let go of people and move on…

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?

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.

I Dared Myself To Be Daring… aka My “Brave The Shave” Challenge!

You can find more about my #BraveTheShave efforts over on my unique shaver profile, here.

My name is Illisia Adams. You know this about me, but did you know that I am painfully shy? I am rather reclusive, actually; a bit of a hermit. This is entirely because of one thing, and that thing is fear.

“[She] was painfully shy, which, as is often the manner of the painfully shy, [she] overcompensated for by being too loud at the wrong times.” - Neil Gaiman*, Stardust (novelisation)

My fear is actually quite well-founded in factual experiences. Regular readers will be aware that I have been through some very nasty experiences within my short lifetime, and I am understandably held-back by my concern of repeat scenarios.

I am almost certain that my trust, naivety, friendship and love could easily be manipulated and “taken advantage of” on yet more occasions, as they have done time-and-time before, by both strangers and trusted individuals. This is because - contrary to the pleas of many of my friends - I refuse to “harden-up” to the ills of this world. It leaves me open to hurt, but it also leaves me open to positive things like love and making a difference in a stranger’s day, so I feel that it is worth the risk.

- - - -

So, in summary, I know that I could “harden-up” and be a stronger person and face the world head-on, knowing I could protect myself against pain, but I do not want to. I think that what others feel would make me stronger, would actually weaken me. What makes me, me, would dissipate and I would become like many world-weary, “half-glass-empty” people this earth is already so full of.

The fact of the matter is that when I am brave enough to speak with strangers, I often find a reason to try to make them feel good about themselves. I am making a tiny little positive difference in the world…

“Illi-ism #10: Compliment And Smile At Strangers.
A compliment or a smile from a stranger can really make a person feel good about themselves and make their day. A lot of people worry about complimenting people that they do not know because they do not want to be seen as "creepy" (etc), but you need not fear that, simply begin your compliment by stating that you hope the person does not mind your saying so. Smiling at others is also scientifically proven to make them also want to smile. "Smile and the world smiles back", as the saying goes, and it is indeed true.” – a quote from my Illi-isms.

- - - -

So, what do I mean when I say that I “dared myself to be daring”? The definition of “daring” is “adventurous courage; boldness”. I feel like that is the very opposite of me! So this is me breaking out of my usual “mould”, trying something new, and raising money and awareness for a good cause whilst I do!

The fact-of-the-matter is that I want to experience life and not let my fears control me, but with everything that has happened these past few years, it seems like every time that I start to recover, I experience something else and regress into negative states again, once more becoming a hermit. Which is a shame, because although I technically listed on my medical records as being “agoraphobic”, it is less a fear of the outside, and more of a fear of the (bad) people…

I was just going to “wait-it-out” and let myself recover from my latest dramas (failed engagement, loss of home, weight gain), “taking it slowly” with “baby steps”, but then I saw a FaceBook Sponsored Advert for the “Brave The Shave” fundraising campaign…

It occurred to me that here I am, sitting indoors being ruled by my fear and telling myself it will pass again with time… and yet, there are multitudes of people fighting (and dying of…) cancer (and other serious illnesses) every day. These people are looking death in the face every day and telling it/him where to stuff it! They are fighting back, and that is one of the bravest things in the world that a person can do, in my opinion; especially as someone who has in the past given-up and tried to take her own life…

- - - -

My "Before" photograph for Brave The Shave.

The “Brave The Shave” campaign raises money for those brave people that are fighting this illness, by encouraging sponsorship of individuals who shave their heads to raise awareness of the plights of those undergoing cancer treatments that result in hair loss.

… I am going to be one of those individuals. On August 25^th 2016 (fifty-four days, and counting!) – which is my physical Birthday (twenty-nine this year) - I will be visiting a hair salon and having every inch of my “locks” removed. I will be campaigning to gain sponsorship** between now and then, and you can of course contribute if you wish (please do!). Literally every penny counts!

- - - -

When I informed some of my friends, the reactions have certainly differed!

“But you can do other things for charity…” stated Daniel, to which I replied “This is more about impact though, not just fundraising. When I shave my hair, I am showing support for all the people all around the world who lo[o]se their hair to cancer.”

“God you[']r[e] brave” – Jessica/”Hatchy” My reply? “Not as brave as the people I am doing it for :-) But thank you.”

Another part of my conversation with Daniel perfectly sums-up what I have been speaking about in this post.

“Yes, it is up to me. I cannot go back now! Well, I can... But that would be so very Illi-ish of me, you know? Getting too scared and "freaking-out" etc. It holds me back from experiencing life! 

You should see my Living List! Some of those things are so, so simple to do, they do not cost money, etc, but they still have not been done.”

- - - -

I may be “braving the shave”, but it is people fighting cancer who are the real heroes. I am not a brave person. I am actually quite a coward! I have only recently started going outside more often and interacting with strangers etc because of my dog, Poppy. 

This is no ordinary fundraiser. This is me showing my support to people that have been through or are going through cancer, in a very graphic way. By shaving my head, I am showing them comradery. Every time someone asks me about my shaved head, I can proudly say why I did it, and spread the word about what McMillan Cancer do.

Add to this the fact that I hope to donate my lengthy hair locks to Little Princess Trust - a charity that makes real hair wigs for children going through cancer treatment - and I really feel like this could be one of the most important things I have done in my life (so far!)…

I shall of course by posting about this again, come-the-time! In the meanwhile, if you want to support my efforts, please “Share” this Blog post, sponsor me, tweet my BraveTheShave profile**; whatever you can do.

Together we can make a difference. Many Blessings to you all, and remember that life is too short for fear! :-) 

- - - -

* I shall be publishing my “How Neil Gaiman Saved My Life” once I a). finish it and b). have the courage to publish it… Baby steps!

** You can find more about my #BraveTheShave efforts over on my unique shaver profile, here.

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.

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.

“The R Word”: Taking My Personal Journey From Victim To Survivor

I had a good, long think about what I would write this week. My life may have barely started (I am three-and-a-half,now!), but it has indeed been eventful, in both good - and bad - ways. My predecessor could compete with me on the drama scale, as well, so given that this Blog is about both our lives, I was spoiled for choice, as nothing particularly “stood out” for me in terms of what I wanted to talk about.

After much personal soul-searching and thought, however, I decided that now - whilst I have the courage for it - is my time to discuss what I have always referred to as “The R Word”, aka* rape.

NB: For obvious reasons, I must advise that some people may find this post distressing, but I have tried to make it as positive as possible, as with all my Blog posts.

- - - -

I have briefly discussed my (here and here) - and Cherie (here) - having been through the traumatic experience on multiple occasions, and it was very, very difficult to write about, for obvious reasons. I have never truly been able to physically talk about it with friends, family or even mental health professionals, either. Even the mentioning of the word in media, conversation, or “comedy”, etc, literally makes me cringe, my heart races faster, I lose my breath, I have flash-backs, and I get very upset. I cannot even say the word aloud. I simply refer to it as “R”, and hope or presume that others will know what it is that I am referring to.

I am not the only victim of sexual assault that experiences this. In fact, it is quite common. Months or even years after such an experience, our assailants essentially still have power over us, because of this, and I have decided that that needs to STOP. I am taking a personal stand against those bastards who do these things to women (and men), and taking back the POWER for those of us they have hurt.

- - - -

This photograph - you would no doubt be surprised to know - was taken not long after my "mild" sexual assault**** last year. I find that it is very important to try to embrace the fact that I am still alive, that I survived, and try to have a happy, fun time as often as I can, no matter what.

- - - - 

I am planning a step-by-step program for myself, which I shall share with all of you, and if you too are a victim I want you to join me.

Firstly, I am going to stop referring to myself as a “victim”, and replace that word with “survivor”. Doing this shall take some thing negative and replace it with some thing positive, and it takes the power away from the man (or men - plural - in Cherie's case) who did this to us. I want to take back my life!

Secondly, I am going to try to say the word, aloud, at least once every day. I am hoping that the more that I say it, the less of a taboo it shall become for me and the less power it shall have over me. I want to be able to hear it without fearing it.

- - - -

Cherie is a prime example of what I am aiming for. She had been through horrible sexual experiences, but remained a sexual person. This photograph was taken at The SFX Weekender, a month-or-so before she "killed" herself. 

- - - - 

Thirdly, I am - and this is difficult given my virgin** status and my attempt to overcome my love addiction - going to take back my sexuality. At present, I am struggling to look in the mirror, to take off my clothing, to find a man (or woman, should I ever choose that sexual preference) attractive or think about kissing them (etc), and the idea of sexual interaction, to be quite honest scares me and even shames me, in a way. I cannot even partake in personal pleasuring, let alone be intimate with a partner, all of which is “perfectly natural” (as my doctor and therapist and friends all tell me), because again, I feel shame. This is quite simply not fair and I intend to change this.

Being a victim - or rather, survivor - of sexual assault is nothing to be ashamed of. The person (or persons) who forced themselves onto us are the ones who should be ashamed. When we feel shame for what they did, we are empowering them, even if they are no longer in our lives, and even if (I hope this is the case***) justice has been done and they are serving time inside a jail cell.

- - - -

Cherie (right) and our mother (left) pole dancing at one of Cherie's Birthday Parties. Again, this is a prime example of how she was able to embrace her sexuality, even though she was a victim of multiple sexual assaults.

- - - -

This is why I am going to promise myself that when I remove my clothing, I will look at my naked body and - much like I discussed earlier with the word “rape” - I hope that the more that I do this, the less of a stressful experience it shall become. I need to keep looking at my unclothed body and I need to try to think positive thoughts, not negative ones. I need to be proud - not ashamed - of it.

After all, if I cannot even look at my own naked body, how will I ever be able to have a consensual, loving, sexual experience? If I were to remove my clothes in front of some one today, I have no doubt that I would literally break down into tears, and I do not have to tell you that that would be quite a mood killer!

I am also going to dabble in flirtation, and experiment with my wardrobe gradually to try to wear things that show a little (not too much, as I am naturally a very modest person) bit of skin.

On a side-note, for those of you who have a sex life to speak of, I have been advised that it is very therapeutic to replace negative sexual experiences with positive ones; which again is about taking back your body as yours, making sure that you are able to say “yes” - or indeed, initiating the foreplay yourself.

- - - -

My body literally shook for the entire duration of writing this post, but I am proud to say that I did not cry a single tear, so there is definitive progress being made here. If I cry, I am again empowering my assailant.

- - - -

If I follow these steps and I am brave, and of course with the help and support of my loved ones, I have every confidence that I can overcome past experiences and move on to become a confident, sexy woman.

I hope that, if you are a victim - sorry, survivor - yourself, or indeed you know some one who is, you will read this post, share it, and join me on my quest for full recovery. It will not be an easy one. As I always say to people (one of my "Illi-isms"): “Nothing in life worth any thing is ever easy”, and this is a truly worth while goal; to be able to take back our lives again!

So, I am sending you all my love and support and God's Blessings in your efforts, or the efforts of your friends or family who might be suffering, and I pray to God that I, and all others, will be able to lose the taboo and trauma of the experience and embrace that we are alive, we are well, we are SURVIVORS not victims, and that life is once again worth living and enjoying.

- - - -

NB: Post Traumatic Stress is a serious condition often suffered by those who have suffered from sexual assault, and although I have not discussed it in this entry, I shall be giving the topic my full attention at a later date.

If you have any more recovery suggestions, do please Comment and share them with myself and your fellow readers.

* Also known as

** Although technically not, I consider myself to be this, as I have not experienced consensual intercourse as yet.

*** Sadly this is not the case with me.

**** This is what the authorities referred to it as, as it was not rape, "only" unwanted touching. I shall discuss this at a later date.

“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 1^st 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.