This is a merge of my 'Wanderer' blog that tells of two years of my three years on the streets, and a new blog that tells of my life after the Diocese of Winchester ripped through my life for for the last few years on top of the previous serious harm that left me homeless
This is a day to day blog of my life as I continue to survive, work on recovery and on the social problems that I have and try to come to terms with limitless traumas I have survived along the way.
This blog is in tandem with my blog about my experiences in the Church of England

The former name of this blog and the name of it's sister blog are to do with my sense of humour, which I hope to keep to the end, which appears to be ever more rapidly approaching. At least I laughed, and I laughed at the people who were destroying me. Don't forget that.

Here are my books, which I wrote for you if you would like to know more:

Sunday, 3 September 2017


Good evening peeps,

I have been battling depression so thick and dark that I can hardly do anything.

It has rained all day.

I got the farm done.

I spoke to the doctor via skype this morning, I am please that my earphones helped me to hear the doctor better. It was a different doctor this time.

She was very helpful even though there isn't much that can be done.
I am non-NHS because of their atrocious treatment of me, and the local NHS are in serious difficulties and can't even help people in more serious trouble than me.

So the doctor listened, and she said she could understand, that it is important to stop the rebuild of my life collapsing altogether because of how I am struggling with trauma and depression, and because of my serious reaction to all anti depressants, I can't be allowed those even though it has got to a point where I want those, because usually she would prescribe those.

She said that all she could think of to do was write a general referral letter for a psychiatrist and include the fact that I can't have medication, and I should arrange to see a consultant psychiatrist and get a therapy action plan in place.

We only have about 2 or 3 private psychiatrists within 30 miles, so I emailed the most likely one.

He emailed back within a few hours, very polite and helpful, and told me what I know, I need a psychologist not a psychiatrist. I knew that, but I went with what the doctor said.

It's funny, it reminded me of Jersey and the lies of the Korris report.

The Korris lies still injure me, and nothing has been done about them or Korris.

In the end of my time in Jersey, I was in a collapsed state from the Jersey Deanery and Fisher and the Scott-Joynts harm to me, which is not recorded anywhere of course, and so I was paying to see my doctor every week, twice a week I think, and I was on the waiting list to see the specialist psychologist who had finally been brought to Jersey, and had been brought partly because of autism Jersey and my press and media release on their behalf when I and other autistic people were refused mainstream psychology treatment, discriminated against basically. Do any Jersey readers remember my broadcast and article?

Anyway, so in the end times in Jersey, I was seeing my doctor and waiting to see this new psychologist.
Do you remember what the Korris rubbish said? That I was refusing treatment and denying my condition? Jane Fisher's lies will affect me for life. Lies printed as fact, broadcast over the world and sent to the police as fact. Horrific.
But, the belated point of this is, there in Jersey, August 2010,  in my distressed state, I phoned my doctor and asked if I should actually be getting psychiatric treatment, and he said no, wait for the psychological treatment, he said he saw no sign that he needed to change me from psychological to psychiatric despite my state.

Consider now the depth of damage by the church of england and police in trying repeatedly to force my distress to be madness and for me to need to be put away!

Today the psychiatrist read my referral and said I need a psychologist not a psychiatrist.
To be honest, the damage to me by the church and police is such that I don't believe that anything can help me, and I am still not safe from harm, but I can't let things get worse, because I have had a number of near misses at work, my job needs full concentration, and the disturbed sleep and tiredness, flashbacks and lapses of concentration, are not safe in my work. And so many times I nearly go off sick just because of depression and despair.

The psychiatrist recommended two of his colleagues, one I knew wasn't the right person, the other I don't know, so he gave me her contact details and I have emailed her.

This feels like the end times in Jersey again, I am in that destroyed state, a year after the police yet again seiged my home for the church, I am depressed, distressed, destroyed, and yet I keep trying to pull back from the darkness, with ever decreasing hope.
I don't know how I will fund treatment, especially as winter is coming. All I can do is go on making the same steps in the hope of finding a way through.

But if the police, who aren't liking my formal complaint, attack my home again, I am finished. And living in fear is part of why I am deteriorating. They had no warrant, no charges, no reason to seige my home, release my old identity and smear me to my landlord and neighbours, and it was six months after the Archbishop and Bishops had me utterly and publicly destroyed to culminate their three year public destruction of me.
The police who seiged my home, and professional standards, refuse to do anything about the church's harm to me, as they have from start to now.

That sounds like a lot of rant. But it is all real and all horrifying. No human being can survive all this, and therapy is basically just a comforter while I wait.

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