Wednesday, 19 March 2014

Social Services, Birthdays and what's the point?

Well I wasn't going to blog today, except maybe a vague post about Birthdays.

Now aged 33 and 3 years travelling homeless, branded mad and bad by the pharisees in the Diocese of Winchester, I did ask them if they want me to ride up to Winchester on a donkey for Passover and be crucified. I am pretty much scourged and ready for them to crucify me with their reports and press releases.

So today was the 33rd Birthday and I was vaguely going to blog about Birthdays. But I have felt too unwell to do much.
I was horrified to receive an email that violently stirred up distress, what a day to receive it!

Social services in Hampshire apparently accidentally copied me in on an email to other people.

Let me tell you about social services in Hampshire.

They treated me like dirt.

After Jane Fisher and Bishop Scott-Joynt collaborated to try and have me put away in Sussex and pretended their complaints were separate, which they weren't. I rang Hampshire social services and battled with conversations as they passed me round and round and round the departments, passing the buck, as they do.

Eventually they took my pleas to be protected from Jane Fisher, and I explained as best I could how she had had me locked up repeatedly for responding in distress to her and Bishop Scott-Joynt's refusal of my complaint and their repeated violations of my privacy and human rights and their slander of me in Winchester that omitted the abuse and my disability and made me out to be mad and bad, and at first social services seemed positive that something would be done to protect me.
The matter was taken on by Safeguarding,
Safeguarding quickly decided to side with Jane Fisher and the police and  treat me with contempt and refer me without my consent, to a mental health worker at the very daycentre I fled because of Fisher and the Bishop's violation and slander of me.
Basically social services, instead of investigating or protecting me, decided to slur me as mentally ill, despite the mental health services saying I was not.

Social services thus made it clear that rather than protecting a vulnerable person, they prefer to slur them as insane and thus protect their abuser, in my case Jane Fisher, who has been extremely clever at absolving herself at my expense throughout this whole matter -glaringly showing up in her recent involvement and continuation of exactly the same pattern of violation and jeer that I cannot get rid of her, cannot escape her, she can have me traced and force on me and injure me wherever I go and whatever I do, this is causing me severe dispair.
I can see no future until I am safe from Jane Fisher.

well, Jane Fisher is supposedly in 'safeguarding', works closely with these people in Hampshire County Council and was very able to cover up her wrongdoing, especially as the police and court action was one-sided and omitted my side of things, so I was portrayed as mad and bad.
The very reason I contacted social services was because Jane Fisher claimed to police and court that she 'still wanted to help me', 

despite the fact she had got me a terrible record, from which I will never recover, from responding to her refusal to deal with my complaint or leave me alone, my mad and bad emails were because she was hurting me, firstly by refusing to deal with anyone in Jersey and rubbishing me there, hence me dealing with them myself, and secondly because she continuously violated and slandered me behind my back, causing me to be driven from my home town, in what she claimed was help,
she did not have my permission to help me, and after Jersey, she was the last person on earth who should have been involved!

Fisher and Bishop Scott-Joynt claimed they had 'tried to help house me' in Winchester, when in reality they interfered so I was unable to be housed, had me trapped and terrified in that situation at Christmas 2010, which was one-sidedly described in court as me making 40 phonecalls and texts to Jane Fisher, when in reality I was responding to her and the Bishop tricking me and having me forcibly trapped in their friend's house.
So I responded to that by contacting them and received a one-sided punishment for it in the court, and yet Jane Fisher has been left to wreck my life again in the past year and jeered by setting the NSPCC on me!

It is utterly horrifying that she has recently, again, after a year damaging me, violated my privacy and human rights by setting the NSPCC of all people on me!  Utterly unbelievable, when will someone step in and say 'look, this is utterly insane, Jane Fisher has inflicted a criminal record and pain and shame beyond healing or bearing on HG, HG has made complaints to the police, social services, the Diocese, the heads of safeguarding, the Archbishop, HG has tried to protect herself from Jane Fisher for 5 or 6 years and Jane Fisher is still free to harm her, was free to bias the Korris report and tamper with eveidence throughout, and HG is truly beyond the end of her tether, living in poverty, misery and fear of the Diocese and police, no relief or redress, the Bishop, in alliance with Jane Fisher has threatened HG with the very unjust police and court whatever that Fisher and the previous Bishop got her, after having HG forcibly and illegally traced and wiping her name through the mud publicly c/o his employees in Jersey.
When does it stop?

When will I stop being the public figure of shame and whipping for the diocese and allowed to start afresh?
Life will always be a kind of death with the emotional and psychological damage inflicted by Fisher, as described above, the way she has shamed me and branded me on record while not dealing with my abusers, and allowing abusers like FM to laugh at me in publicwhen I was shamed on the streets of Winchester, Jane Fisher sending an email round to all my old friends and contacts shaming and villifying me, it isn't something I can recover from.

So anyway, I made my displeasure known to the idiots at social services today. But it made a miserable Birthday, in poverty and in hiding and with £10 to last me a week, no lights or adequate cooking facilities, and in pain and struggling to walk, even worse. The memories of how shittily I was spoken to and fobbed off by social services and knowing that I would get more of the same if I lodged a complaint.
I have had to cancel tomorrow's treatment for my spine and pelvis because I cannot afford it, I cannot even afford to get to the hospital for a routine tomorrow. But seeing as I am already in pain and struggling to walk, I would probably be told to postpone until a better time, I guess this is the illness described as 'fibromyalgia' rather than the injuries troubling me today, I certainly feel ill.


Birthdays were celebrated in my family, usually presents and cards, and in the old days when the family was closed, we had parties.
In my teenage years after that terrible series of events with my brother and the press and my mum and baby sister in hospital, things became more vague and the family were moving apart, with all those old enough having left home, Birthdays didn't matter then, and I was so isolated, as I am now, that Birthdays weren't worth much, my 16th and 18th Birthdays were pretty much forgotten by my family, although, as you will see in my previous writing of happy memories, the farm staff made my 18th Birthday special by getting me a card and some fish and chips and a bottle of coke. 

No sparkly parties and alcohol and big presents for me, which was what my fellow college students all seemed to have, but I was happy, just being in Winchester, walking the dog, really at home in my home town, you know how it is when you belong to a place and a place belongs to you? That was Winchester when I turned 18. Just as it never will be again, Winchester for me now is deeply deeply horrifically wounded and shattered, taken from me violently by the Bishop and Jane Fisher, a place of shame where I am branded.
But when I was a teenager, Winchester was heaven, and so my 18th was ok without much fuss.

My 19th must have been when I was at college? I remember nothing about it, and my 20th, I remember JM getting me a card with a funny picture on it, the card said 1 year old on it and I didn't blame her, the caption was some cartoon animal with a bib and a caption saying 'feed me', which was a random thing that I used to say. But JM also got me a 'normal' card.
 JM was the closest I have ever had to a mother, and out of everyone who has got involved and got out of their depth or hurt me, JM is the only one I still love.
But love does not equal safety and I will never see her again.

Anyway, my 21st Birthday was described here:

I don't remember many Birthdays clearly, usually my Birthday is near Easter, and the two blur, and since joining the Church of England, Easter became a special time, so it is all a blur of daffodils and sunshine and the beatiful green of the Hampshire countryside and joy.
Time with friends and general peace and enjoyment of a tough but ok life.

The first really sad Birthday I remember was when Jill Lihou sent me a Birthday Card in March 2007, when she and George had been asked by me to leave me alone because they had broken my heart with their behaviour.
It broke my heart again when they sent me a card, and I cried. It was a silver and white card with a West Highland White Terrier on it, Jill said it was the closest she could find to their dog, Jessa.
I did not want a card from them, Jill had wanted me to spend my Birthday with them, to the exclusion of all others, and out of the routine they had re-set to suit themselves and with no input from me, and I didn't want to stay when it suited them and I had other plans.
I am sure they didn't mean to upset me with the Birthday thing, but it did, because I needed space and I needed to be part of the decision making and I needed to be listened to.

But I remember when Birthdays really started becoming un-Birthdays, it was in Jersey, when the Churchwarden and his wife were hurting me, 
This was over the 'daughter-not daughter' row, and they went away for Easter and I was with JM for Easter, this was 2008, it was my Birthday and I spent that with JM and my friends, which was great, but the daughter-not daughter row had concluded as not daughter, (which continued to change), but they sent me away with a card that said daughter on it! Again, this was heartbreaking.

And of course, Birthdays after that were wrecked, as was Christmas, by the horrors of the consequences of reporting the Churchwarden.
 The reality is that is has cost me my life and he and his supporters nothing, I would have been better off letting him go on and abuse and hope the next victim had better luck, I wonder if that is how Sally felt about FM though? When JM rubbished her when she told her?
I may or may not have been FM's next victim, but I didn't have better luck. 
But on the streets is where I finally learned, you keep your head down or you end up worse off than the wrongdoer.

Anyway, Birthdays on the streets, that first Birthday on the streets was shortly after the police brutality which has left me traumatized to this day. And as I walked down the road, the same officer who had deliberately, repeatedly, needlessly and brutally flung me to the ground, said 'hello' familiarly to me, you know how police 'speak' to the people they harm, as if they know them and are friendly with them? well that is what happened for my Birthday, sending me back into shock and sickness.
 That Birthday on the streets of Winchester, shunned, maligned, despised and ruined.

And the ones that followed weren't any better, when I went on the run, I couldn't tell anyone my Birthday, for fear of being traced, that is still the case.
 Last Birthday and Easter was when I had pneumonia and whooping cough, started to recover, and the blasted diocese launched on me.
I say last Birthday and Easter that happened, because I had no idea of March 8th for some time, although I had been dreaming of Jersey a lot at the time and I had already been shunned and made unwelcome by people who read the Korris rubbish long before I knew what had happened.

This Birthday I have £5 left, and a pint of milk, I am sitting in the dark as there is no light, I am living in fear of the Diocese, I am facing a bleak continuation of six years of hell, I am being subjected to reports that omit my side of things and injure me, no-one will defend me from the Diocese's unwanted interventions or call them to account.

Basically another Birthday in a world that upholds abusers and condemns survivors is another unwanted Birthday.
I can go on having the faint magical hope that things will turn out right, but it is just the child I am, things will not be alright, today was not a magical wonderful day, not a day of sunshine and daffodils and friends inviting me round for a pot of tea, it was a day of poor food, darkness because there are no lights in the house, emotional injury as social services who harmed me made a serious error in including me in an email, a day of despair and futility as I try to work out how to survive the week on what I have.

I wish God was merciful and could see my pain and answer, but this God is the God of the Church of England and their abuse and cover-ups and deceit at my expense.

My Birthday wish, which is not a suicide threat, as ever, is to not see another unBirthday in a world where I am eternally condemned and have to live like this.


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