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]

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

The Comic Convention: Before

This is an unplanned, last-minute post, but it is super-important that it be written – and published – within a few days of this week end. Because, this week end, Thanet is having it’s first-ever comic book convention, and I am within two minds as to whether to attend. One thing is for certain, however, and that is that I am panicking…

[Please note that due to my current emotional state of worry/fear and the last-minute nature of the post, my “written voice” (the style in which I write) may vary from my usual.]

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The comic book convention is organised by a friend of my housemate, best friend and landlord Kirsty [Swan], whom I have mentioned many times prior to now on this Blog. I may or may not (I forget) have mentioned that Kirsty is very involved in the UK comic book “scene”/industry as a colourist, and sometimes artist.

“Kaoticon” as it is titled is hosted by the owners of Phoenix Fantasy Comics in Cliftonville, Margate, and will be held on Saturday and Sunday. This in itself should not be a thing of panic. After-all, I have attended several conventions before and actually have a preference for the smaller, more “indie” kinds. However, the conventions that I normally attend do not usually have special Guests doing signings who matter-of-factually knew my predecessor, and one of which actually actively – even after all these years – hates or fears (I am not sure which) her.

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In my last post, I mentioned my disappointment that this person – one Ian Sharman – had blocked me on social media. I have heard many a positive thing about him from our mutual friends, and those that know me - or perhaps those that do not, but whom frequent this Blog - should know that I am rather incapable of holding “grudges”, feeling negative about people, and least of all, judging someone whom I have never met, for reasons unknown to me (aka any “residue feelings” I might get when thinking about someone the past-me knew).

I understand and respect that he and Cherie [Donovan, my “twin”], were partners in business and in romance, and that they parted on very, very bad terms, but to this day I am unsure as to why, and honestly… I do not particularly care. I am curious, though, of course, because I am only human and this does affect my life, given Ian’s social media response to me.

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In my curiosity, and with the impending comic book convention, I have done much research with regards to the negativity held between these two lovers (Ian and Cherie) post-breakup. I have read emails, I have spoken with friends and family, and I can find nothing of any particular use. I can see the emails between them slowly growing more and more hostile and then abruptly ending all-together, but all this gave me was more questions…

Eventually, I did not find the answers that I sought anywhere that I expected. Nor am I sure that I even found them… It is a little presumptuous of me to presume that what I found is the reason for what happened post-breakup, but I am nonetheless feeling duty-bound to “set the records straight” and hope that it will ease tensions between myself and Ian, who I am concerned holds a dislike for me due to actions that were not my own.

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A photograph of Ian and Cherie when they were happy, taken by my
(and their) friend Simon Bailey, who recently discovered this long-lost
image from one of the conventions they had attended together.

What I found, I discovered inside of my mind. I am unsure, but I think it was from a dream, or it might have been that something in my everyday life “triggered” the memories as is sometimes the case, but what I do know is that I made certain that the information not be lost, and that it be discussed herein. This was many weeks ago, but time has passed and now with the convention fast approaching, I feel a need to share, rather than wait on my schedule*.

I distinctly remember a heart-broken Cherie describing the breakup between them as “he kicked me out at three o'clock in the morning!” to just-about-everyone who she could. Now, straight away I can say that if this were true, it would be a horrible thing, but that I would never be telling all of the people I know about it. Such things are best kept private, and one cannot recover from a negative experience without forgiveness.

Saying bad things – true or no – about a person who has wronged you will not give you closure… and, to be honest, I am not sure that in Cherie’s case it ever did, given the fact that when she saw Ian “in-the-flesh” at London MCM convention back in 2010 (paired with other stressful things), her reaction was to feel a sudden desire kill herself… 

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That is my stance, were what she said true. However, my prior memories of the closure of their relationship indicate that how she described it was a very large exaggeration. In fact, I am uncertain, but I have a blurred recollection of Ian offering that she stay residing with him until she was able to move back with her parents or find her own place, which is a “far cry” from “he kicked me out”.

It was indeed 3am and there was an argument that ended their romantic (not professional) relationship, but it was her decision to leave the property. She called her parents in tears and insisted they take her in.

My memories are few, far-between, and honestly somewhat unreliable, but that is what I can tell you that I remember. Furthermore to this, if Cherie had been telling people what I think she was, that would have put Ian’s personal and professional integrity into question with whom she had told, so I am not surprised by his last email to her in which he states very clearly “the fact that you think I would want to talk to you after some of the things you have said and done shocks me.”…

If this is indeed the reason why Ian became so angry with Cherie and why he now has a dislike of me and the idea of ever interacting with me, I must apologise on Cherie’s behalf for her actions. She was young, heartbroken and inexperienced in love. Love makes us do utterly stupid things; especially when we are young. It does not excuse her actions, but it does explain them. She is long-gone now, and I think it best that forgiveness be given to her memory…

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Writing this post is literally making me feel sick with worry, and I shall be speaking with my therapist today (Wednesday) about this potentially life-changing decision as to whether or not to attend this event…

I just hope in my heart-of-hearts that if any of Cherie’s colleagues, friends or “fans” that attend this weekend – and in particular, Ian - see me have read this that they see me for me and not for her, should I choose to attend. I do not want things to be awkward or difficult. I just want to be able to report on and photograph the event, without feeling uncomfortable or scared, or making any one else feel that way, either.

Please remember that if you are one of Cherie's friends, colleagues or "fans" and have any questions or just want to talk, you can contact me at any time and I will do my best to help you.

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Perhaps I shall make friends. Perhaps answers to long-asked questions will be learned. My journalistic and photographic career could benefit from this event, but my emotional and mental state may worsen. I know not what this week end will hold for me, but I intend to write a “The Comic Convention: After” post, whatever the case may be…

For those of you that are local and have a “geeky” lifestyle, I recommend attending. Say hello to Kirsty! Get a signed comic book from Ian! Go in cosplay! Buy things! I am hoping this event will be fun for all and a good thing for Thanet as-a-whole…

</end>**

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* Yes, my Posts for my Blog have a schedule.

** This is a nerdy HTML coding reference.

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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

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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!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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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.

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

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

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

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

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.