Written 15/01/2013, this shows some of the suffering I have endured in between being deported and left destitute and being traced again by the Diocese and made to suffer horribly until right now

So much hurt:
I started crying, the memories and the injustice still overwhelm me.I still remember how they made it out to be all just me and tried to force me to be insane until I was believing them yet knowing it couldn’t be really true.

If you force something on someone with autism for long enough you can make them believe it even though it isn’t true, and the same goes for someone who grew up in cult circumstances.
There is so much that I still cannot write, it hurts me too much.

Every day the flashbacks, the pain the shame and the fear in which I still live overwhelms me and I have to work hard to stay on an even keel, especially as I cannot let their attempts to label me as mad become a fact, a reality, and so I hold my life together and suffer horrendously but in silence, because I have no voice, they silenced me and ensured that I had no credibility.

I feel everything, because there was no solution, no resolution, no conclusion to what happened. Just a trial in which I had no voice, that told me that if these people represented God then God was unjust, cold, a liar, cruel and without a scrap of mercy.
Every night I am on trial or being verbally or physically beaten and every day I wake in distress.I try to defend myself, explain myself over and over, I try to see a way that I can be heard, but I have no voice. 

I try to help myself and see a future but I cannot rebuild on the utterly destroyed ruins of my life, razed to the ground and the always unstable foundations beyond repair.
I scream out silently to be released from what is not serious mental illness but a living death caused by what has happened, a world in which I have no place and where there is nothing that can help me.

Every day I work on self-help, just as I did as I tried to learn to live in the real world after escaping the cult environment in which I grew up. But this time there is no hope, originally poverty and disability hampered my development, when I was a young adult, as well as wrong handling by people who didn’t understand, but now I am held back by being branded, ruined and with a terrible record that I have no voice to stand against.

Every day I do a mood chart and every day it tells me I am suffering severe depression, but I do nothing but hold my life together, I will not allow that diocese to get the triumph of headlining my suicide as a mentally ill criminal, I have to hold on in a life that has no worth, no purpose, I will never drive again, I will never work again, I do not know if I will ever live indoors again but I suffer such bad flashbacks and distress indoors. I panic in my sleep, trapped and terrified in my subconscious.

My life is limited, I cannot tell anyone what has happened to me, and the diocese have invalidated me, I will never be able to do volunteer work and am excluded from most careers, I will never be able to do anything that involves disclosing my background or getting a medical report, and most jobs and things that include you in society require this, and people who know me do not know I cannot do this as they cannot imagine that I could be a bad terrible person on record because in real life I am quiet and childlike.

The level, the depth and the breadth of the hurts is too much, too many individual hurts branching off the core hurt. Trying to verbalise everything to someone seems too much, is too much, and so few people have knowledge of psychological damage, of church-based abuse, of the things I grew up with, which left me as an unsocialised and immature adult with a shattered psyche and open to abuse.
I am punished every single day and will be for the rest of my life, I was no match for the wrongdoers in the diocese who remain unpunished and unrepentant and keep their homes and privilages, mostly supported by the diocese and the church.I reacted, I fought back, I lost control because I was so badly damaged, and I am unforgiv en and unforgive en on record forever and so I cannot forgive myself. Especially I cannot forgive myself for falling prey to abusers and their clergy supporters. 
My story was never fully heard by the Bishop and Diocese who were busy protecting themselves against liability, but they were quick to condemn me based on the words of people who had done wrong and who’s aim was to protect themselves and the abusers.There was no unbiased person involved and no one who heard me with an unbiased ear.
Church will always be traumatic for me, and attending church causes me shock,  God who I needed as a Father is