Writing Hour

My life is going through transitions again, so I wonder if I should try to commit to writing on here for an hour or so per day.

I will return to Jersey in the next post, although it does trigger flashbacks.

On the subject of flashbacks, when I was younger I did not know what they were, and I still had flashbacks to when I was 12 years old and experiencing extreme violence.

One of my worst flashbacks before the Jersey and police brutaliy ones was a flashback to 12 years old. The time I had a breakdown that has affected my emotional and mental growth, leaving me childlike and always anxious.

I remember my mother saying that my brother was dead, that he had been killed.

 At the time my Dad and other older brother were out at work, there was just Mum, my sister a year older than me, and the younger children. The brother in question had been chased away by a gang, and my Mum said they had caught him and killed him.

This, for me, was the end of the world, because we had always been 'protected' by 'God', and the fact anyone could break through this illusion of protection that my parents created was unbelievable, as was my Mum saying my brother was dead.

My Mum told me that the gang was going to kill her, and there was no way of refuting this as they continued to hurl a barrage of bricks and stones at the house, some of the windows were boarded up and the rest were shattered, and the gang hurled themselves at the door, trying to break it down.

My mum told us children to go upstairs, she said she didn't want us to see her get killed, although I have no idea how we would have been any safer upstairs if she had been.

But anyway, my siblings went upstairs. 

I didn't.

I couldn't.

(I go against 'normal psychology' according to my psychology teacher of last year, before the diocese wrecked my life last year, I was at college, and we were taught that normal psychology is to turn away, and I do not, which is strange because I am autistic, but I do not leave someone on the ground if they fall, and I do not turn away from dangerous situations, like in Jersey when me and my friend intervened in an argument where a man was beating his girlfriend. My friend called me a vigilante ever after and took me to see 'Kickass' at the cinema, because she said it was my type of film)

Anyway, aged 12, I picked up one of the tree branches that we used as weapons, and I stayed with my Mum no matter what she said, I waited with her as they broke down the door.

We were lucky in a way, a lone police officer arrived in a car, but refused to radio for help, but the gang retreated, they had no real fear of the police, because all the police could do was add to their CV's.

But my Mum was hysterical, she kept telling him to radio for backup, I asked him to get my dad but my Mum told me not to say where Dad was, as she had no trust for the police at all, then she told me to go upstairs as she was going to kill the policeman, now my Mum is and was seriously mentally ill and I knew she could not kill the policeman, but I was terrified, it all got too much for me and that is when I broke down.

When I came round from the initial collapse, my Dad was back, and my brother wasn't dead, another policeman had rescued him from the gang, I always remember that police officer's Name, Jim Mulligan. 

And my other older brother was home, the policeman wasn't dead, no-one was.

I didn't fully recover, and never received the medical attention I needed, we were briefly granted police protection, then the violence we faced continued on the same scale and worse for a year. I never really recovered and have become the damaged person I am as a result of that time as well as the fraught years leading up to that and the continued unsettled times after that and before I left my family.

So it is true that I arrived in Jersey still damaged and without having recieved as much therapy as I needed, as the NHS is very lacking in provision for such things and no doctor had ever queried my background, despite me only seeing a doctor when I left home and with a whole record of childhood immunizations and illnesses missing and me obviously distressed. No doctor ever looked into what was troubling me, until I was homeless after Jersey, and even then they could do nothing to help.

So, even in Jersey I remember having flashbacks, and going to the church to tell them I was having flashbacks.

I wonder, why the church think this is my fault and a crime?

Peter Ould who has the time to jeer me and my blogs and say my testimony is worth nothing because he considers me to be insane, despite the fact he has undoubtedly never suffered or been abused or in poverty, would he have survived this? and would he have survived everything I have in the church of England and then had people like himself launch on me in agreement with the hate campaign against me and pronounce my testimony worthless as I was all of a sudden launched on by diocese, police and deanery and thrown off balance and traumatized and having to defend myself?! I may come accross as unusual and unstable, but I have been through every hell and not been allowed to develop into a normal person, and being abused and ground down by the church of england, even up to now with the diocese still being a pain, I cannot maintain stability, because I am raw. I am not mad, and I am truthful. 

I know what insanity looks like, it looks like what My mother used to say and do, to do with death, and I grew up with it, and my sister's suicidal tendencies as a result, and it has affected me, but I am not insane, assessements have shown I am traumatized but not seriously mentally ill, I am just broken and frightened and trying to live as each huge wave of damage washes over me and drives me further from the shore. It has always been a downhill spiral as I got abused and ground down by the church of england while unable to access the help that I founght for even from the time I left my family.

Most people say that Peter Ould and his jeers, and the comments of outsiders on the whole matter are irrelevant because they do not know me, but actually, Peter Ould is responsible, he has a duty of care as a priest, even though in the church of england such things are taken with a pinch of salt, he has vulnerable people in his church, and judging and condemning them, even if he does know them, is wrong in every way and he needs to learn about proper pastoral behaviour. So why, if he has not lived through what I have, if he has not experienced what has left me disturbed and hard to relate to and struggling to relate to others, why is he condemning me to the world while he claims to be ordained for Christ?

I know he vets all my posts personally :) little stalker that he is, to tell everyone I blog about anything and everything, so no doubt he will do a critique about me blogging about anything and everything here, but actually, I am blogging about two things, trauma and flashbacks - my experiences aged 12 and Peter Ould and his badly behaved associates both cause me trauma, just different kinds of trauma.
I guess a point I am trying to make about Ould is, he is yet another example of the church of england judging me and publicly condemning me without fair trial, without my side being heard, and while he has got the other side of the story from wrongdoers who have done wrong and defend themselves by maligning me.
That is pretty much the same as the advocate 'representing' me in Jersey telling me I had done wrong and my side of things was irrelevant, and the same as Jane Fisher and the Bishop omitting what they had done to provoke me when I was on trial in sussex, and claiming they had only helped me when they had harmed me isolated me and left me cut off from friends and homeless services.

The Church of England, 'called to help the lost, the last and the least', have done everything they can against God in destroying me, from lying, judging and covering up, to leaving me permenantly destroyed and publicly jeered and humiliated.
It does not change the fact that my unheard testimonies are truthful and that I have been abused and that my actions and reactions are because I am seriously damaged, not seriously mentally ill, and condemning and blotting out my testimony will not change it, but will only make those in the church wrong in God's eyes.

being launched on while homeless, traumatized and autistic, what does Ould expect but incoherent anger and grief? would he be any better in my position? No, but he judges from a position of wealth and status, not from a position of someone who has suffered and understands, hus he is not a just judge, nor qualified, nor asked, to judge. so the Great Judge of All will send him to the furnace for adding to my wounds.
Psalm 69, as always.

computer fixed :)

I took a break from writing about Jersey because it was too upsetting, and my computer has spent a week playing up, thankfully now fixed.
I am puzzled as to why the stats have suddenly gone down, was it something I said? :) it usually is.

letter to the Bishop

Dear Bishop of Winchester,

while the police refuse to protect me from you, I will continue to plead.

You claimed in the press to have provided help for me, but you had not got my permission to arrange help or refer me to anywhere, and after the severe damage you had done to me, and are doing, your 'arrangement of help for me' without any consent from me, was simply a violation and a continuation of years of damaging, unjust and immoral violations of me by the diocese of Winchester, and also it remains that you had not at any time taken my full story into account and had threatened me with an unjust court order that came about as a result of your Diocese's incompetence, lack of safeguarding, and untruths about me to police and court.

The fact that you referred me to the NSPCC without my consent or imput, when they failed me as a child and have connections with Jimmy Savile and have made things worse for his victims, and you have unlawfully passed information, undoubtedly incorrect information as your employees have done wrong and covered up, has further violated and harmed me.

I remain deeply traumatized, a fugitive, living in fear of the Diocese of Winchester and unable to either remove myself from poverty and restore my health, or live a normal life.

As a citizen of this country, I have the right to live in peace, be protected by law, and carry out normal every day life, your ongoing harm to me has prevented me from doing this for over three years now, and especially in the past year when you have ripped my new life apart.

I am in poor health as a result of abuse and trauma, police brutality and psychological harm from Jane Fisher. I cannot visit a doctor as I believe that is how the police may have traced me last year to enable you to use me in your self-glorifying pretence of caring about safeguarding, which resulted in the Jersey Deanery hate campaign against me and months of negative, libellous and inaccurate press coverage against me, including your untruth about apologizing to me while you harmed me yourself by omitting me from investigations, treating me like dirt and threatening me.

Why did you threaten me when it was you who launched on me? It shows that the Diocese has learned nothing about safeguarding or Christianity, because that is a repeat of what has happened all along, the diocese fail me, violate me, and attack me legally for my response! I am utterly disgusted, you have permenantly removed my quality of life and every single day for me is weighed down by being a fugitive and branded criminal, while my abusers do not suffer any of this, and even if justice was ever done, not one of the wrongdoers in this will ever suffer what I am suffering.

Not that I would wish this on any of them but Jane Fisher. Who's unpunished dishonesty and bullying and support of the the wrongdoers proclaims that the diocese of winchester remains the friend of abusers and an enemy of real safeguarding.

I recently saw an amusing article about how safeguarding in the diocese is better than ever. Oh yes? I remain destroyed, I remain branded and my abusers remain protected by the church, Jane Fisher was not publicly suspended and made to do a fake apology like Bob key, so how has safeguarding improved? Jane Fisher is still there after having an abuse victim destroyed, safeguarding has not improved. My complaint against Jane Fisher has not been dealt with, safeguarding has not improved, you have re-destroyed me and left me in a very very hopeless half-life and tried to refer me without my consent to another abusive organization, safeguarding has not improved.

You have ensured that anyone who wishes to rape, assault or abuse me can, and I am without defence as the police would look up my records as soon as I reported abuse, and see that you have had me branded, and would batter me and lock me up again, all while I can only afford to either live on the streets or in slums where abuse can and does occur and I have been assaulted and threatened.

I have to live in the same conditions as rapists and murderers because of what you have inflicted on me, worse, because they are usually not ashamed as I am, and can access medical help or housing benefit without the risk of being traced by their destroyers in the way I feel I am at risk of you continuing to trace and harm me.

So, being unable to see a doctor, I cannot get help with my physical health and have to do what I can to splint the problems myself. 

I also cannot seek work as my health is damaged both physically and emotionally and I have no ability or faith in myself to achieve anything, and live in poverty, only barely off the streets and suffering trauma as a result of what has been done to me by the diocese of Winchester. The record that you gave me means I am excluded from most work, and will never have a career or earn anything more than the minimum wage if anyone would employ me, and with my health and circumstances, it is unlikely that I would ever get work.

Thus my life is basic, I try to make money for food last, I try to stay living indoors and look after myself, but the horror and shame of what Jane Fisher, and you, have inflicted on me, is often overwhelming, but is still not mental illness as Jane Fisher so wants it to be, because it is a reality.

When I was young, I was abused in my family, and I saw members of my family abuse, I saw them steal, do drugs, deal drugs, vandalize, have illegal cars, but they never got a record, they were never left shamed and ruined and in poverty and branded, publicly villified in the press. By so-called Christians, because they didn't bother with church, I did, and I got a record for it, while those who deliberately did wrong got away with it and have better quality of life than me.

It was the Bishop and Diocese of Winchester who did this to me, and have continued to do this to me, while calling themselves Christians, while covering up for the sake of the church's reputation, while threatening and branding me, because they allowed abusers to access me through their churches, allowed me to be belittled, abused, walked on, blamed, branded for reactions that would not have been if I had been properly safeguarded and protected and heard, rather than the wrongdoers being safeguarded, protected and heard.

You call yourself a Christian, Bishop Dakin, and you claim to have done this in the name of safeguarding, no Christian could stand before God and claim that the lies and half-truths and cover-ups were done because Christ taught or condoned such behaviour!

I am living death, and no human being could be suffering worse than this, it is on a par with starvation and other sufferings, I am trapped beyond any hope of normal life, and I am begging God for my death, at which event you and the police who have enabled you to harm me and refused to protect me, will again brand, label and slander me in the press rather than being responsible.

I know Jesus went through this too, but that does not make it any easier.

Please: restore my liberty, human rights and right to live and earn a living in my own country.

Please, stop having reports published that omit and harm me.

Please stop violating my basic human rights.

Please stop making illegal referrals of me.

Please stop coming after me and slandering me to communitys, launching on me with the police and press, stating untruths and inaccuracies in the press and threatening me for begging you to get off me.

I ask in Jesus Name that you restore what you have taken from me, my home, my career, my health, my transport, my wage, my volunteer career, the friendships you ripped from me by slandering me to the Winchester Deanery, churches and community, my clean record, my freedom, my access to medical and financial help, my car, all of my posessions and qualifications. AND MOST OF ALL, JUSTICE. WHICH INCLUDES JANE FISHER BEING CALLED TO ACCOUNT AND NOT LYING HER WAY OUT OF HER WRONGDOING.

When you can do those things and I can have a safe and full life again, then you can consider yourselves to be helping me and can consider yourselves on the way to better safeguarding.

If things remain as they are, you are driving me agonizingly painfully and in utter horror and distress, towards full death, and I can tell you this long slow crawl through half-death, outside of society is agony beyond your imagining.

Thoughts from the Throne, lets play proverbs.

Well I went to the bathroom, and there by the toilet, was the book of Proverbs.

Not the Bible, just verses from Proverbs, open on a page marked 'injustice'.

Proverbs 13:23, 17:5, 17:23, 24:23, 28:21, 24:24, 22:8.

Make notes, Bishop Dakin, especially 24:24.

31:8-9, 24:11-12, 28.5, 25:4-5,

Called to help the lost the last and the least? ha! 

For Bob Hill: 29:7

Random

This little story is going round the social media websites, it is heartening. Sometimes people understand autism because they know someone with it, sometimes people are just patient and kind.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/shanell-mouland/dear-daddy-in-seat-16c_b_4585865.html

I am not very tolerant of people, unless they are autistic.

I continue to struggle to understand why people who call themselves Christians, along with the police, have destroyed me and been untruthful about it and excused themselves.
Members of my family have abused, stolen, vanadlized, drunk-driven and other crimes and yet they have not ended up with a criminal record nor have they ended up destroyed.
I was destroyed because the Diocese of Winchester refused to deal with my complaint, employed people with a history of abuse, would not stop violating my human rights, and yet I am desroyed for answering back, I am destroyed for being vulnerable and abused, while people who commit worse crimes, including the abusers who have abused me, get off with no record, no homelessness, no destroyal.
And the way I have been destroyed is permenant, I cannot build any sort of life with the record I have been given, a record that excludes what has happened to me.
I am in poverty, in fear of the diocese, and with no money, no hope and no future, and undoubtedly back on the streets very soon unless someone intervenes on my side, not behind my back.

I thought you already knew all this -errors from earlier corrected

Someone just asked me why I have to hide from the Diocese.
The short answer is that the police have not protected me from harassment by the Diocese, but have treated me as mad and bad instead.

The longer answer is that the diocese have come after me and wrecked my life enough, and I cannot go on being driven out and maligned by them with the police standing by and refusing to protect me.

On my return from Jersey to winchester, the diocese launched on me, but behind my back, sending an email round to the churches, including my old friends who held church positions and to JM and her husband who abused me.
I was instantly wiped out, all my long-standing friendships were simply finished, these friends I had known for 10 years and more, friends who held church positions, suddenly they were lying to me and saying they would meet me in a cafe rather than their home (when that happens it is no longer a friendship but part of the diocese of winchester's cruel segregation policy which means vulnerable people are criminalized and abusers are still welcome, as FM continued to be.

I had no say in anything, my side of things was irrelevant, all that mattered to the diocese was ensuring that their side was heard and I was outcast.
Having come from prison to homelessness, suddenly finding myself shunned in my old community while JM and her abuser husband remained respected and included, it was too much of a shock, but I did not contact the diocese.
Lou Scott-Joynt accidentally phoned me as she tried to phone my friend, days after I arrived back in Hampshire, I told her to go to hell and I went to the police, despite my terror, and I asked the police to get the diocese to leave me alone.
I asked them several times, but the diocese proceeded to liase with the homeless services and churches in Winchester and ensure I was shunned and maligned. The police did nothing, despite me having shown them Lou Scott-Joynt's phone number on my phone.

Life got worse and worse for me, and it was not until I was openly shouted at and rubbished, for the M's, that I contacted the Diocese and begged them to stop, this was december, after three months of hell of being maligned and rubbished by the diocese to all and sundry and having ended up on the streets as a result.

In January, Anne died, estranged from me because of the diocese's interference, and Jane Fisher wanted me to go and sit with Anne's remains in church at night rather than go to the funeral where FM, my abuser, would be, so he could go to the funeral in peace, this is despite the fact he was no friend of Anne's, and liked to go to most of the benefice weddings, funerals and baptisms for the social side of things. And had sexually abused me and vented his violent temper on me during the time JM had brought me home for counselling and then to live with them and then as a friend.

Shortly after this, the diocese had me captured and brutalized by the police for reacting to their insensetive idea of me sitting alone with my friend's remains so my abuser could be at the funeral in peace, I was repeatedly thrown to the ground, even though I was terrified, the policeman untruthfully said I tried to bite him when I ducked my head when he trapped me in a corner, my computer was broken and so was I, I was shut in a cage and dragged by the scruff along the police station yard, and put in a cell for 24 hours, while the police stood outaside saying I was insane, saying that they were trying to find a hospital to have me put in, the diocese had been asking for me to be put away for my reaction to them. They also got the inaccurate Jersey police account of things.
I will never ever recover from that ordeal, never, it has broken my soul completely.

The police and diocese didn't manage their aim of putting me away, because I was not insane.
But the police refused to stop the diocese provoking me. As they still do.
The police told me I was 'looking to the diocese for something they could not provide, and that I needed medical help' - if this is the case, then why did the same police launch on me in March of last year and set the bloody diocese back on me with the Korris report?!

anyway, I was not put on any medicine, because no medicine cures the diocese of Winchester, I was released and left still open to interference by the diocese, and because they continued to violate, slander and drive me, I continued to speak back, until they had me brutalized and locked in  another cell, after which, because it was obvious that they were not going to stop, I went on the run and changed my name, and even this did not stop the harm of the record they gave me and the fact everything recorded is one-sided and I am open to abuse and also to being treated like dirt by any authority that I turn to for help.

In March last year, despite everything done against me and despite the police jeering me as insane and saying that the diocese had done nothing and they would not protect me, the police traced me, took away my new identity and thus my safety, and allowed the diocese to subject me to endless and severe harm.
I remain destroyed, and surprised that anyone can wonder why I am in hiding and in fear of my welfare and liberty.
The police are still acting for the diocese and treating me as if I am insane and my request for assistance is invalid, the diocese are boasting about good safeguarding, while they have ruined me, and still continue to ruin me.
If they think what they have done to me, while they have sheltered my abusers who have not ended up homeless and maligned, is good safeguarding, I wonder what they think bad safeguarding is?
I am condemned for the rest of my life and will never escape poverty and homelessness or slums , my abusers and the wrongdoers in the church are cleared, that's good safeguarding is it?

It is funny how the Korris report describes Jane Fisher as going to Jersey to soothe my poor abuser when he was 'maligned by me', while he was going round saying he had been cleared and that thus I was a liar, and yet Jane Fisher and the Scott-Joynts went round Winchester wrecking my name and not allowing me to rebuild my life, and the police let them, liased with them, brutalized and ruined me, and I remain brutalized and ruined with nothing at all to prevent the diocese continuing to harm me indefinitely.
Truly I wish God would have mercy, I can see nothing good in life, I am an embarrasment to society and of no worth to society or myself, I am ashamed to be alive.

If the Diocese of Winchester's safeguarding is good, i would hate to see what bad safeguarding in the CofE is like! Well, I guess a snippet would be that Bishop who consoled the Chichester Diocese Vicar on being maligned, but it is the same sort of thing.
I hope that that answers the Question.
This is the original, written in 2011
http://whatreallyhappenedinthechurch.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/written-long-time-ago-as-i-prepared-to.html

Thank you

Thank you for reading my blog. You are most welcome, unless you are going to be contentious, in which case I will put my hobnailed boots on and make you suffer :) It is nice to see so many people wandering through my blog.
God bless you all. Even if you are church of england and very cross :)

Jersey, written in 2011, continued

My summer job ended, after all it was the end of October now, and after a few weeks I was offered another job, this was an unusual job, the employers ran a bakery, but they had a massive organic vegetable plot, the woman was my boss and she was a highly excitable and temperamental lady, and the house and bakery were full of shouting, her mother in law lived on site and she and her mother in law hated each other. So it was a tense house, I felt sorry for the husband as he was not a naturally angry man, he was quite gentle and depressed.

Anyway, my job was to tend this massive vegetable plot under her instruction, it was not easy, Jersey soil is mainly sandy but this was thick clay, and it rained all winter, she got me to work this heavy clay soil while it was wet, and it compacted, it was a nightmare to work, she wanted things done in odd ways, her way, it was useless trying to do things the sensible way, because it didn’t suit her, and as a result the growing vegetables suffered, it was hard to look after this great big plot because it was organic and the weeds thrived while the plants struggled in the compacted soil.

 And I became scared of her and her criticism, she was a terror, her husband just plodded along ignoring her nagging unless she went too far, and then there were rows, she told me her mother in law despised her, but her mother in law was lovely to me and I liked her, she urged me to get help for my depression and ‘get to the root of the problem’, but I couldn’t really get help, Doctors cost money in Jersey £35 per time, and there was scarce counselling or psychological help, I will explain later, the costs are sky high for therapy privately, much worse than England.

(14/01/14 I did find and work with a counsellor but apart from her telling me that the churchwarden was crossing boundaries and that he should get a slap on the nose each time he did, like a naughty dog, she and I were not able to engage well, and she often tried to get me to use imagery to override the depression and flashbacks, which I could not do, plain counselling does not work for me)

My adoptive dad paid for me to see the dentist, this is another extortionate cost in Jersey, dentists and vets are mind bogglingly expensive, imagine £100 for one filling? But my adoptive dad added the costs to the loan so I could pay him back later, but it was a bit as my teeth were neglected since ***** (14/1/14 where my teeth were damaged by bad dentistry).

(14/1/14 people I knew in Jersey used to get their teeth done in France as it was cheaper)

There were tensions at the adoptive parents house, the adoptive mother was not happy with me being there(ever), and I overheard a row early on, she was shouting at him about me and saying that they should have let me just move on. This shouting anger from her was in the middle of the night and I sat on the stairs crying and went to their door and tapped on it, she came out but I couldn’t speak, she got him to come out and he took me on his lap on the stairs in pyjamas, he comforted me while his wife went back in their room saying nothing. He told me that I was loved and wanted and that everything was alright, so I trusted daddy and was upset with mummy, she got upset too and was crying and depressed and he said that mummy was ill because of me (although he contributed to her stress by playing her and me against each other and telling her I was in love with him and telling me she thought I was a burden), I felt terrible, she stayed like that for a few days until one day she was all smiles and hugs and had got me a big bar of chocolate, but I was wary, I gave daddy the chocolate. She would pray for me as I left for work every day, with tears in her eyes, and this would remind me of Jill and terrify me.

(14/1/14 just to explain the above, I had only intended to spend the summer in Jersey before moving on to the grape harvest in France, the church warden and initially the Vicar and his wife, had persuaded me to stay in Jersey, the churchwarden’s wife had some history of depression and breakdown due to the churchwarden being sacked from his previous church and she had never liked me being around, poor woman, I didn’t know any better than to go along with his plans to keep me there and she couldn’t cope with my oddness, a lot of people find my autistic ways strange, and I have to do my best to verbalise why I do things the way I do these days as it helps people to understand).

I spent Easter at JM’s house as she had invited me, it was ok, I decided though to go up to ****** to see my brother and his family, my car developed a problem though which spoiled the visit and caused me stress as I had to get the AA to bring the car back to Hampshire on truck and it was repaired on Easter day, which wasn’t ideal, and then my brother and his wife decided they were coming to Hampshire to see my sister on Easter Monday, I felt stupid and hurt because I had put the effort in to go all that way and it had damaged my car, and then they decided to come all the way to Hampshire to see my sister when they could have saved me the journey by arranging for me to go to my sister’s to meet them, I went there to see them as well, but the time and money wasted was really bad for me. And this was how it was with my family a lot. (they are mainly on the autistic and other spectrums and troubled from our upbringing, hence them not being able to help me or be my family, they have their own problems)

Daddy(churchwarden) continued to love me with great affection, too much affection, he would get me to settle next to him on the sofa while his wife sat alone in her armchair, he would get me to settle my head on his lap, but I would only do that with my head facing away from his body, as when he got me to lie there facing him I did not consider that appropriate, but I was restless, I would roll my head up and down his leg and make him laugh.

The letter to the Jersey Deanery, as requested

Here it is, 15th of October on this
blog
http://whatreallyhappenedinthechurch.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/open-letter-to-jersey-deanery.html

Dear Bruce Willing, Philip Bailhache, Gavin Ashenden and others who have villified me,

I thought I would write in response to what I see as a smear campaign against myself by yourselves in response to the Korris report that assesses the Dean of Jersey to have done wrong.
I have silently endured your very unChristian response to the Korris report for a long time
I am deeply dismayed by your approach to the matter.

I am first and foremost very sad to see how far behind the rest of the world Jersey is with regards to attitude to mental health.
You claim me to be mentally ill and you use that against me not only in a way that criminalizes me but in a derogatory way that puts your view across in a way that makes it look as if you are removing credibility from all people with mental illness.
I have several comments on that, firstly ‘mental illness’ covers a very wide range of illnesses, from mild forms of depression and anxiety/phobia to the more severe forms of psychosis and schitzophrenia.

It is important to remember that even people who are seriously mentally ill are still human and have a side to things, and that the attitude you are showing is simply that ‘people with mental illness are not credible’, sadly it is people with mental illness and people on the autistic spectrum who are most vulnerable to abuse, because they are isolated, need care and are vulnerable, can be misunderstood and often isolated lacking in voice and effective advocacy or enterpretation.

I am dismayed that you, in your positions, are not enlightened on the subject of mental health, to the point where you are using my supposed mental health condition to scapegoat and vilify me and remove my credibility.
The damage you have done to me by scapegoat ing me in your efforts to clear the Dean and clergy in Jersey of misconduct is pretty horrifying, firstly because, hopefully you would know better than to scapegoat and verbally bash someone who has a physical disability, I do not understand why you feel that the equivelant is not the case with mental illness but that you feel that you should further hurt someone who is already suffering illness in order to achieve your own aims.

Also, Mr Willing, calling me a ‘poor unfortunate woman’ is the kind of terminology that belongs in the dark ages, it really really shows up how Jersey has not moved forward with the rest of the world in understanding mental health, autism and other conditions.

To conclude on mental illness, I am diagnosed as free from it. not only was I diagnosed as free from mental illness in a psychiatric report done in La Moye prison, but again in Winchester five months later, again in Sussex a few months following, and again in a comprehensive report from my current clinical psychologist who specializes in autism and trauma and has been in practice for 20 years.

You need to stop excusing the wrongdoing of the Dean and Church in Jersey by using mental illness that I do not suffer, and if you insist on proceeding to use my ‘mental illness’ as an excuse for the wrongdoers, you need to name my mental illness and back it up not only with clinical proof but with reasons why it is an excuse for the Dean and church’s misconduct.

Most mental illnesses can strike at any time and anyone can suffer, rich or poor, believer or non-believer, I ask you, do you expect to lose your own credibility and rights if any of you were to be struck down with mental illness of any kind, be it mild depression or any other form of illness? In this day and age, even though Jersey is a long way behind most of the developed world in many issues such as mental health, human rights and equality, it astounds me that you are, in the media and in front of the world, behaving in this severely prejudiced way.
I don’t know how to put this politely but ‘shafting Jersey to the rest of the world’ comes to mind.

And especially in the case of Gavin Ashenden making statements about mentally ill people being demon posessed and driving demons out during services, it is understandable why he was chosen as a Jersey clergyman, and his letters and statements about me when he doesn’t know me and only knows one side of what happened between me and others, he isn’t just showing how unenlightened he is about mental illness, or just how much an investigation into safeguarding in Jersey is needed, he is also showing that despite being an ordained Priest, he does not understand the basics of Christianity.

I am diagnosed as mildly autistic, suffering severe Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and severely psychologically damaged by my experiences not only of a very damaging upbringing but also of my what happened to me in Jersey and the Diocese of Winchester. Those things are not so easy for you to use as excuses I guess.

Lets move on to the subject of the Church.

Bearing in mind that I did not ask for this hugely disasterous visitation with it’s conflicts and PR Firms and reports that omit the views of key witnesses, I am astounded at just how unchristian the deanery of Jersey has been in their smear campaign against me. Even if I did make a complaint, it was five years ago, was disregarded and could have been dealt with in private.



Let’s go back to the very basics of Christianity the ones that are hard for the older, more wealthy and influential people to swallow.
Jesus said ‘let he who is without sin cast the first stone’, is any clergyman or lay church worker in Jersey who has maligned me at deanery meetings and in the press without sin? No, and no doubt in their own personal lives and histories, there are sins and skeletons, and yet they forget Jesus’ teaching, or, more horrifyingly, they do not know it or feel that, in this case, they can excuse themselves. Focussing on defending themselves or others who have done wrong.

When I left Jersey, I continued to suffer, mainly because I was condemned by the Church, until the day I was befriended by Catholics, and it was their words that saved me.
My dear Catholic friends, who remain dear to me two and a half years after I met them, taught me these simple things:

We are all accountable to God, the Church members who hurt me may have done wrong but it is between them and God, and I may have done wrong in retaliation but that is between me and God, and ultimately it is between me and God for me to confess my sins and be forgiven, and it is also up to the people who hurt me to confess before God and be forgiven by Him.
And there is no-one in Jersey who hurt me, who I have not forgiven, this does not mean that I am not deeply dismayed by their past and current behaviour.

I confessed my sins, and was provisionally Baptized a Catholic in order to be confirmed, as it was not possible to safely get my Baptism record from the Church of England, and in Baptism, all past sins are forgiven, and since my Baptism I have returned to confession with my sins and struggles regularly, and I love that integrity before God.

I can see that in Jersey no-one who has done wants to admit to their wrongdoing, and instead they are metaphorically stoning me, and using mental health as a rock to throw, which is, although they don’t realise it, tarnishing their image as Christians and certainly leaving them with a lot of wrong between themselves and God.
And I hope and pray that all of this can change, and that these people, Philip Bailhache, Gavin Ashenden and Bruce Willings will have a change of heart, come back to the basics of Christianity and cease to use the Church in incorrect ways.

I have an image of Jesus arriving in Jersey and going to these churches, homeless and unqualified, ‘different’ and saying things that people like Senator Bailhache and Bruce Willings do not like,  I have an image of them rejecting him and yet not being able to get rid of him, I have an image of them venting their wrath on him, I have an image of my own experience of Jersey, and I have an image of the crucifixion of Jesus at the hands of the Pharisees, and you know something? Those three images tell the same story.
I will discuss with you Senator Bailhache’s ‘campaign’ to get the Dean reinstated. I know I am autistic but I do not understand why Senator Bailhache was so keen to clear someone who had done wrong at the expense of the person who had been wronged.

Senator Bailhache has never met me, and no matter what he is told about me, that is heresay and he should know better, as a church member and as a representative of the States of Jersey, but especially as a church member who presumably professes to be a Christian, than to judge and condemn someone he doesn’t even know.
As I said earlier, I know Jersey is behind the times, but Senator Bailhache shows just how seriously behind the times he is, as well as showing just how much wrong there is between himself and God.
Hopefully Senator Bailhache’s new promotion to foreign affairs minister for that tiny Island of Jersey will ensure that his travel and liason with other, less insular countries will broaden his mind and bring Jersey, and himself, a bit more up to date on courtesy, balanced judgements and mental health.
He has really showed himself up and done himself a disservice in running a campaign that harmed me in order to try and clear the Dean of misconduct that the Dean did commit.

Senator Bailhache makes me out to be a troublemaker and an abuser despite never having met me and acting only on what he has heard, this shows very plainly why Jersey’s Deanery needs a visitation, it also shows him as unprofessional, a judge who judges someone he doesn’t know? writes libellous letters about them to all and sundry and has such letters published as fact and with claims to represent the whole island? Islanders protested about this, but because of the tremendous power that Senator Bailhache has, his was the voice which was heard.
Even the Bishop and Archbishop were made to give way and reinstate the Dean without an enquiry, on the grounds of Senator Bailhache using his political position, his signature as ‘Senator Bailhache’, despite later stating that he was acting as a member of the church and thus had every right to support the Dean.

Let me return to how this fits in with the Church and God, if this behaviour by Senator Bailhache is endorsed, commended or acceptable to the Church, then the Church is not following Jesus and is not of God.
If Senator Bailhache describes himself as a Christian, then he needs to stop and look at what he is doing and has done, and he needs to realise that not only is he behaving in a very unChristian way and very displeasing to God, but he is also tarnishing the Church’s Name, Image and purpose, and should choose between continuing his Unchristian behaviour and leaving the Church or considering how to achieve his aims, including supporting the Dean, in a proper, reasonable manner, without the unspeakable wrong of abuse of power in his political position while calling himself a Christian or his hate campaign against someone he considers to be ‘mentally ill’ in order to clear someone who has commited misconduct agains that same person.

Sincerely,

HG

answer to request - letter to the Jersey Deanery

I can't find the letter on my blog tonight, but I found a link to where it was posted on Bob Hill's blog

http://bobhilljersey.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/jerseys-dean-hgs-guest-posting-open.html

Jersey, written in 2011, continued

Anyway, the churchwarden couple arranged for me to stay with a friend of theirs, and I had to wonder at their choice of friends, she was a big lady, who wore a lot of makeup, and I hate to be personal but I found the makeup and the way she dressed difficult to understand, she worked day or evening shifts and was in bed the rest of the time, she didn’t take to me, and I didn’t take to her, she was a ‘Christian’ converted by the abuser, but I hate to say that I couldn’t see the Christianity in her, she was like St. A's and the Americanized Evangelical Jersey churches, cold, empty, the God is the shallow one, for show, who am I to judge? I am no-one, I am condemned as wicked by these churches and people.

I was there briefly and it was not to be long term, I was there while her usual lodger was away for a few weeks, in the meantime the churchwarden’s wife was helping me to enquire about lodgings, but we were looking in the paper for lodgings, which isn’t the best source, and the accommodation coming up was too grotty in her opinion or too expensive, they had decided to keep me on the island no matter what and I was going along with them. Though I did think that actually finding lodgings and a job in Jersey were going to be an impossible task considering the residency requirements and competition for non-qualified jobs, all the meagre amount of agricultural work left in the island went to foreign workers who could be underpaid and would sleep in bad conditions with no rights.

I went back to England for a long weekend, I stayed at JM’s house (at her invitation), and I remember JM recounting to her mother some of the list of people I hoped to see and things I hoped to do while I was back, all the old friends who are now gone had to be visited and given Jersey souvenirs and hear what had happened, and of course I had to ice skate and go Tesco shopping, as all Jersey people do when they visit England, there is no Tesco in Jersey, groceries are very expensive over there, and back then I was driving and had a car to load with cheap Tesco goodies, a favourite in Jersey for example, is Tesco Loo rolls, in Jersey you cannot imagine a pack of loo rolls for 46p, even car boot sales are more expensive there.

Anyway, a hectic and joyful weekend occurred, pots of tea were had, stories were recounted, gifts were given, I actually felt happy, I had received in the post my National Certificate in Agriculture with double distinctions, and my 'adoptive parents' in Jersey given me some spending money for England. I loved the ferry journeys, I even got a night stayover at **** and *****’s house in Dorset on the way back to the ferry.

I arrived back in Jersey and I had moved from the adoptive parent’s friend’s house to their son and daughter-in-law’s house to house sit while they were away, they were away a lot as the son was in the RAF and had an RAF house in Belgium, when I first met their son he told his son that I might not want to shake hands, and that started things off awkward and as the churchwarden's wife continued to resent me and speak to her son about me it was difficult to talk to him. It was luxury being in a ‘qualified’ house on my own for a few weeks though, my 'adoptive dad' had left me a nice note in the house saying that he was busy for a few days and that they would see me later in the week, he signed it daddy I think, which is sweet, he called himself my daddy and called his wife my ‘mummy’, she hated this. But she did come and buy me dinner at lunch time (when I was at work) and tell me that their house would always be a port in the storm for me.

It is better for me to call them my adoptive parents than my abusers, I have decided, at least at this point, I loved them by now, I found it difficult to love the woman as she found it difficult to love me, she seemed to feel obliged, which was sad, and very different from Jill Lihou. 

But the churchwarden loved me (told me so often), overloved me in a similar yet different way from Jill, he cried over me, which really really startled me, I am not sexist but it is one thing for a woman to cry but it is strange indeed for a man to be like that, he was in some ways very effeminate, with his tactility and emotions, and I asked ‘why, daddy?’ he answered that some of it was because he was from a broken home. 

I may be able to write all this with insight, but believe me I didn’t and don’t understand things at the time so well, it is hindsight and analysis as well as writing things exactly as I saw and heard them.

I am not sure why now, but I actually had two weekend trips to England within a month, after being in Jersey all summer with no break. This time my trip was hijacked by George and Jill, who were in Jersey with their daughter and family and once again strongly trying to become part of my life. 

They met my adoptive dad, because he said he wanted to meet them, to dot a few i’s and cross a few t’s, whatever that means. He held me proudly as we stood and talked to them, and I was submissive and let him lead the conversation and manipulate me as he wished, he then had to go and Jill and George got me to sit in their car and drink tea with them, they heard I was coming back to England for the weekend and wanted me to stay with them, my bright and cheerful visions of ******* and Winchester faded a bit but Jill really wanted me with them, so I agreed to a night or was it two with them, anyway,(during the time in England)I ended up distressed and ran away from them to JM, when I got to JM’s house I was crying and she wanted to comfort me but I stopped crying because now the hold Jill and George had over me was weaker and once I was in ****** I stopped crying for them and just got on with things.

It was the week I got back I think, that the churchwarden/adoptive dad came with me to his son’s house where I was house sitting, to collect some paperwork for my insurance, because he had taken over my paperwork and was working to sort my car papers out to make sure I was legal in Jersey, I got the paperwork from my jumble of papers upstairs, and went down to where he was in the lounge, he started cuddling me as he often did, and he was stroking, and his hands went briefly to where they shouldn’t go on my chest. I reacted sharply and he sat down and prayed, I was startled to say the least. (both by the crossed boundaries and how he reacted to my reaction).

It took a tricky while to get the car legal as it waited to be registered as a Jersey car, they helped me to register it as a Jersey car as well, and I felt very proud as the final stages were just my work, I had imported a car! Hows that for an achievement for a rather troubled autistic girl!

My adoptive dad sat me down one day, he told me that he had had a dream, he dreamed that I had come to the back of the house as usual and then gone round to the front and unlocked the front door with a key and come in. He asked me what I thought the dream meant, and I said maybe it meant I should be moving to France soon.

He told me that they were inviting me to stay at their house as their Son and daughter in law were coming back.

He got me to bring my car over and clean it on their driveway, and I mowed the lawn while I was there, much to the delight of the wife. Then later that week I moved in to live at their house.

They had had me to stay over a few times, and my adoptive dad liked sending me to rest in this little spare room sometimes when I was at their house anyway, he was delighted to have me living there, though it was for the time being while I was looking for lodgings.

Jersey, written in 2011, continued

They very soon involved themselves in my life quite deeply, their choice not mine, and I went along, there were similarities to Jill and George in some ways and differences too, this couple didn’t phone me every night, some of their emotional boundaries were different, the wife did have problems but didn’t get ill in the same way as Jill, her husband was a very very tactile man and loved to touch women and look at them, in his own admission, he loved to cuddle the old ladies in church and they looked forward to this treat, but he told me he didn’t like hugging men, he said he had been really embarrassed when a man had given him a bear hug. During this time I became in frequent contact with them as they got involved in my life and my worries, I remember one evening how the man said how a lot of their life was about me at that time, I said to him that that worried me and that I didn’t want to take up too much of their time, and he replied that they would tell me if I was taking up too much of their time.

I was beginning to worry about the future as the summer went on, but this couple and their vicar and his wife had decided it would be a good idea for me to stay in Jersey and 'receive some healing', I did as I do, I went along with what the ‘adults’ wanted. I was restless but at the same time I knew I loved Jersey already. It rained a lot that summer and the postal strikes damaged the flying flowers business that the nursery I worked for ran.

By the way two of the family who owned that nursery were part of St. A's, though one died during my war with the church, and the nursery were struggling due to rising costs and the 50 year old glasshouses needing too much maintenance, but anyway, business was not good for some of that summer.

My abuser took me into town to get my phone sorted out, English mobiles are no good in Jersey. We went through a few confusing hurdles of getting my phone unlocked and put on a Jersey network, he seemed very proud of this, he had ‘taken himself out of work’ to get this done, the funny thing about Jersey is that people seem to have a lot more freedom with breaktimes and people coming to see them at work than people in England do, and my abuser’s wife took to coming to see me at work as well, and taking me out of work for lunch, which is nice, do not misunderstand me, I remember and am grateful for any kindness and that is what makes all the messed up and abuse situations so terrible, I hurt and I have been told that I am malicious and wicked and use people, but I accept their kindness, I ask nothing unless I really have to, and I go along with what other people want even if it is not always what I want.

(14/01/14 Jersey is very old fashioned, it was like being back in the 1950s there)

I loved my job, working in Jersey can be high pressure, just as life in Jersey can be, but both life and work there are also funnily and paradoxically more relaxed as well. For example in England ever single little thing is a health and safety hazard, over there it is not so, in England you don’t get credit or subs on your wages, over there you do, in a way people are more trusting, and in a way they are very sharp as well.  Jersey is a financial centre, so it is not an idyllic island, it is a well equipped and wealthy place with every kind of entertainment, a friend of the abusers involved herself with me early on and told me that in Jersey ‘ people don’t just go to work and go home, they do things’ and that is true, while I was in Jersey I think I did things I never dreamed I would, I took part in a tremendous range of activities which I will describe later.
(14/01/14 described in previous posts about activities).

I was overjoyed day by day to always see the sea, to always be able to ‘walk in the tide’ as Jersey people called it, ‘walking in the tide’ is an everyday thing in Jersey, and I loved it, I also freeclimbed on the cliffs on my own and I loved doing that, I also had with me a boogie board that I had had in the UK, just a cheap polystyrene thing with pictures of dolphins on, and I would go down to St. Brelades and shyly leave my clothes in the big outcrop of rocks between there and Ouasine bay, and slink down to the water and boogie board, I felt amazing doing that, though every day for me was shadowed by my ever difficult money situation, I would lay back on the boogie board looking at the amazing cliffs and trees against the Jersey blue sky and I would look at the beach and the rocks and the sea, and I would feel amazing, it was like being on a faraway holiday island, I had never known such amazing surroundings, and yet the tension of the money and not knowing my future were terrible.

(I was wearing a swimsuit, not nude boogieboarding)

The thing was that I was honest, Jersey was technically a different country and I could have simply vanished from England and not dealt with the debts, but sadly I was not capable of such a thing, especially not as it left my former addresses  open to creditors who could cause them problems, and since the creditors technically could not touch me in Jersey, I gave them all my address and continued to try and pay them and continued to receive threatening letters, though by the time I got their letters each time it was too late to pay the instalments, and so they continued to add charges, so the debt escalated, but I kept trying, each debt letter was like a physical punishment, and I would get home dreading the letters.

My abuser decided to take things into his own hands, as he did, that was his way. One evening I was invited round for supper, as I frequently was, after supper he got me to sit in the front room and this is difficult to describe, he gets what he wants, he gets it in a determined powerful way, and he had decided to get me to tell him how much I owed in debts, by then he had become tactile with me and could cuddle and stroke me, and did all the time, and I was responding, I was being cuddly and I tried to cuddle behind his back on the sofa and ignore his questions, but he continued to question, actually not knowing why he was asking and not believing that he was going to help me, I ended up telling him, because during this recent time, JM had got me to tell her that I was struggling and said she would help, and when I told her how much I was in debt by, she said she couldn’t help but that if I would just come back and live in Hampshire she would ‘see what she could do’, and I knew very well from that that if I came back then that was what she actually wanted as she didn’t want me to be in Jersey but she would not help me if I came back, believe me I knew that for a fact. So I said to her that I was not coming back and that she had embarrassed me. But the abuser had something in mind, he was going to help me, he forced me to tell him how much I owed, even though I prayed out load, there and then for him to stop putting pressure on me, he and his wife roundly told me off for that prayer.
(14/01/14 JM didn't like losing control of me and wanted me back where she could intervene, and she did intervene in Jersey)

He wasn’t taking no for an answer, he cuddled me and loved me and said he was my daddy, while his wife looked on and wasn’t too happy but tried to go along with this. He sat me down and told me he was giving me a letter, I wasn’t happy, I thought the letter was some kind of punishment, but he produced this letter after getting me to give him all the details of my finances, he had written down that he and his wife would pay off my debts and I would owe them instead, I was horrified, I remembered Jill and George and I knew more than anything that I could not be in debt to this couple I hadn’t known that long, I said no initially, but they persuaded me to accept this offer, the wife had tears in her eyes, as she did sometimes, which always horribly reminded me of Jill Lihou being emotionally upset.

My abuser was delighted that I accepted the offer, which had conditions that I didn’t borrow money to repay the loan, that I didn’t mention the loan to anyone – which the man from Autism Jersey said was one of the signs that there was something wrong there, but I don’t necessarily agree, and something about what would happen about the loan if one or the other of the couple died. I believed and believe that loan to be an act of genuine goodwill, albeit a too big one and one that I was indeed under too much pressure to accept.

It took some time to pay off the debts as one of the creditors didn’t read the letter we sent them properly and tried to take the money direct from the bank instead of waiting for a cheque as the money was not in the bank, they eventually refunded the bank charge that that caused but in the meantime it made things worse, then it was all paid off, and I was by then working and had a bit of money in the bank, but that was later.
Anyway.

I found the abusers church difficult, and one memory of that difficulty was the prayer meetings where they used to try and pray the world into submission and pray people to do what they wanted and force people to their God, I remember one of them trying to use prayer to force people to like the new services when they changed all the services, I believe that the divide between me and the vicar and his wife did include my questions about the new services, my questions were innocent and non-hostile and asking among other things what I could do about worship on the Sundays when I was working, as they were removing the 8am communion and evening services, the vicar and his wife would not even discuss or explain the new services to me, the other thing they did that caused a divide was when they were going to New Wine in England I said I had always wanted to steward there, they said they would ask and see if I could and then they said they asked and had been told it was too late for me to apply, I then enquired for myself and found out that not only was it not too late, but NW were short of stewards, and when I told this to the vicar and his wife they said they ‘had assumed it was too late’ even though they previously said they had asked. They were not the Godly couple I had thought they were and later at New Wine Channel Islands they further hurt me but because of time I have left the explanation of that in the statements document.

(They actually did a lot more that is missed out of this statement, including allowing the churchwarden to take me home and do what he was doing even though he was regularly seen to be tactile with me, and be alone with me being tactile, and they allowed him to override a complaint to them by me, and much more, including liasing with him but not speaking to me as I deteriorated as a result of what he was doing).

 Anyway, back to the prayer meetings, afterwards my abuser was always in a high, excited mood and he would pick me up off the ground and hold me in his arms with my legs dangling; he was a big tall man. His wife hated him doing this and would openly protest, no-one had ever done this to me so I was always a bit baffled, and later Philip LeClaire told me that a married man should not do this to a young girl.

Samarez Manor, we went there for a picnic one Sunday, we walked round the grounds and had a picnic, my abuser cut up his orange peel into little bits and folded everything up and put it in a yogurt pot, his wife said he always did things like that and that his old colleagues used to laugh at him. He smiled. He started playing with me, he wanted me to lie on the ground with him and rest my head on his lap or something, it was far too intimate and I protested and so did his wife, so he said something about it being a game that we could play at home in the garden.

Another time that I was a bit puzzled was when they took me for walk at St. Aubins when my abuser went to check his boat, he took my hand as we walked from the boat to the ice cream kiosk, and his wife took my other hand, as we ate ice creams she told me that they loved me, I was puzzled as we had not known each other that long, and I said ‘you don’t know me’, they said that God told them about me or something similar. My abuser said that I had no idea the qualities they could see in me and the potential.

Anyway, Jill and George got in touch after I sent them a forwarding address, they sent me some chocolate but didn’t put enough post  on it, and I only had a pound and I had to pay that to the postman to get their letter and it upset me to hear from them and I told them to leave me alone.
This was typical of them.

Accommodation, my landlord was always an unpredictable chap, he sobbed for his wife or he lost his temper for no reason sometimes, only once with me, and my abuser when he heard about landlord losing his temper told me that lots of people knew about my landlord and his eccentricities, he lost his temper because for some reason he wanted to get his second Mercedes out early one morning before I was up, and I was parked in front of the garage as requested as he usually used his first Mercedes. He came up and thumped on my door, it was early, must have been because I got up for work early, he really thumped and was raging about the car and I was afraid he would come in my room, which he didn’t allow me to lock. I hate noise in the early morning, shouting and thumping early in the morning are unbearable, and he knew he had upset me. My abuser decided it was time to move me on from there sharpish. I feel sad as I write this that my abuser seemed so kind and caring and loving, he was, in his way, but he was over the top and not all his motives were good, and in the end the way he did things and the regression and sexual element were just the last straw.

Written in 2011 when I realised I had not escaped the Diocese even though they had ruined me and left me homeless, I believed they wouldn't stop until they killed me, and it looks like I am going to be correct in that. This is the first installment,names removed as necessary

Introduction: The first thing I should tell you is that the channel Islands Church of England Churches are part of the Diocese of Winchester, the same diocese that JM’s churches and Jill and George’s old  church at ******* are. But the Diocese have little control in the channel islands due to them being ‘separate countries’ and the growing trend in the church of England churches over there is for extreme Americanist evangelical charismatic cult type worship, which according to (name redacted, works for the CofE), the Dean of Jersey encourages and will only accept new priests to the island who will agree with this style of worship.

The other thing is that this is the most complicated and distressing chapter in my life and it would be only too easy to omit things as there are complications at every turn, I have not deliberately omitted anything and will do my very best to give a clear account. But I am now at a deadline to finish this writing as it has been six months in being written and I cannot go on trying as it is depressing me and I have already had the entire lot of writing destroyed when the police set on me on behalf of the diocese and my computer was smashed, this current document is slightly muddled with dates and times as I grew a bit confused trying to write and edit it.

 I am tired and I know that despite this document, the diocese, the Jersey wrongdoers, the Bishop, Jane Fisher are not going to be called to account, they can and have explained away and exonerated their treatment of me and made me out to be mentally ill and a troublemaker because I have sent a great deal of very traumatised and distressed emails to them in response to their handling of this matter, and left me with the weight of what has happened and the blame, which is too much for me, so I am simply going to let you have this document as it is and accept that I can do no more. What I have just decided to do is another document with a collection of statements and emails relating to the abuse and this matter, I have some but not all of the statements that I once wrote for Jane Fisher. 
(14/01/14 actually I appear to have them all).

The ‘Old Boy’s Club’, abuse of power, and people with the right money getting what they want in Jersey is very real, very much there and very much hidden from England, some of it was brought to light through the Haute de la Garrennne matter getting into the press, but some people involved in that case have never and will never be brought to justice, just as my abuser was not, and the victims not only go on suffering because of the abuse, but as in my case, suffer for actually going to the police, I know that a counsellor I saw in Jersey was counselling victims of this matter and one was trying to decide if they dared to go to the police, I sadly dared to speak up about my abusers who had friends like the Dean and the Home Affairs Minister who was also a reader in the church and is also an ex-magistrate and is overseer of the police force in Jersey (14/01/14 referred to by my abuser as his friend), my abuser’s Brother is a longstanding member of the government as well as a chain-smoking atheist. And so along with the abusers connections and credentials, he is an old boy of the college and island and was on the Deanery synod with the Dean and helped to choose the Vicar of St. Pauls who now apparently ‘supervises’ him, so he can continue in authority in the church and condemn me. 

Another thing to be warned, I interchange the term ‘abusers’ and ‘adoptive parents’ to mean the same couple. And I add old statements I made when reporting this matter, in order to try and speed things up. So it is a bit of a chopped about statement. But one thing I can tell you about these and my other statements is that I can swear by Almighty  God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, that what I am writing is to my knowledge correct as I see it and there are no deliberate omissions or additions in order to alter the story to my benefit.

I arrived in Jersey at after 10am, having boarded the ferry at 6am, and having been up since 4am and waiting at the ferry port from 5am, I was excited and exhausted, actually the times blur, I am not sure of them now. My memory is not so good now.

It had been a tremendous, tremendous step to take, leaving England all on my own, with no one to see me off, taking a tremendous risk in every way in committing to a future that I had no idea about, a future on a strange island where I only knew a few people, and some of those people were people I was unsure about anyway because of their family. In a way I wanted to be anonymous and alone, and in my first weeks in Jersey I would sit in the dark at my new home, listening to music or I would walk out into the pitch black lane at night and revel in the emptiness, I was hurting from George and Jill's 'friendship' still and recovering from a lot of stress (to do with college and finance)

On arriving in Jersey I carefully drove to my new lodgings, I was so apprehensive, going to live with an eccentric widower, though I was assured by my employers that he was harmless and having lived safely with Frank for all that time with no untoward behaviour from him, I expected this man could be the same.

I went into the church on the way from the ferry to the house, to offer a prayer of thankfulness for my safe and complete arrival in Jersey, then I got to the house, where my new landlord welcomed me with tea and cakes and talked about how he would spoil me and how having me there would be like having a daughter around, I took these statements with a 'pinch of salt'.

(14/01/14 regarding going into church, this is something I like to do during the week, and find that it is part of the Catholic way and am therefore glad to be a Catholic)

I was very very tired, I had been suffering exhaustion with my end of college stress anyway, and it got to a point where things were feeling unreal, so when my new landlord had showed me round, I asked if I could have a sleep.
My landlord was agreeable and understanding, he said he was going to do some gardening; he was a keen horticulturalist himself and part of the island’s horticultural society. I slept in my new room, which had very little storage space, so my things never really got unpacked. I was still a chaotic hoarder to a certain extent then, I carried a lot of baggage with me, in more ways than one, but I had left a lot of stuff behind in (the UK) that *****and ***** had agreed to dispose of for me.

When I woke up I went for a drive, I went down to St. Ouens Bay, the bay that I had fallen in love with on my first trip to Jersey, then I went to Beauport, back then my leg was so bad that the climb down to Beauport was a tremendous ordeal, but I managed it.
So here I was with pretty much no money and having to have absolute faith in God for things to work out now that I and all my possessions were here in Jersey.

I started work, and liked it, some elements of the job were stressful, for example having to work in the shop when coach loads of French tourists arrived, I had pretty much no French skills when I started, but I learned some necessary basics, my bosses were true Jerseymen, who spoke fluent French and Jersey french.

On the nursery site was a sand sculpture exhibition, created and run by a world famous award winning sand sculptor, he rented a greenhouse onsite and ran the exhibition which complemented the nursery as a tourist attraction and the two businesses were good for each other, the sculptor was a very interesting man, he smoked spice and was a bit wild, but he was nice to me, bringing me cups of tea and letting me mind his sculpture exhibition one day when he went and did a masterclass in sculpting on the beach one day. He and his equally wild fisherman pal ***** nicknamed me 'teabreak' to tease me, even though they were the ones sneaking me extra cuppas as I worked in the aviaries,  I really liked them, they were rebels.

My landlord was recently widowed and still openly grieving his wife, he would frequently burst into tears and sob loudly, she had died suddenly beside him on the sofa, having suffered a brain haemorrhage. He was reputed to be an unpredictable man, but he was part of the islands horticultural society and was a Methodist. He talked to me about church and I told him I was Church of England, back then I would not have known how to go into a Methodist church, I was a one denomination person who knew nothing about any other denomination.

So he made suggestions about churches, 'there's the local one up the road, it's ok, a bit old fashioned'           ( Parish Church), 'there's the one at First Tower, my friends go there', (and his friends were my abuser's friends and later turned him against me, which is one of Jane Fisher’s many denials and insinuations of me being paranoid, but people in that small cliquey island do things like that, Jane Fisher wasn’t the one on the receiving end of the shunning but judge she will and deny judging she also will and did.).

So off I trekked to the parish church for 8am communion before I went to work on Sunday, I found the service refreshing and the sermon excellent and memorable, and after work in the evening I joined the church at First Tower, only not at First Tower but at their joint service at St. M's, Millbrook.

 St. M's Millbrook was overseen by the same vicar as the Parish church's, who was Jill and George's Son in law, so here I was in the same parish as them, but despite going to their church, I had no wish to become acquainted with them, I was still  raw from my friendship with Jill and George, who I had asked to leave me alone. So I didn't make myself known to these people, despite Jill telling me to go and see them and have my post sent to their church, and when the priest spoke to me and asked my name I said it was '*****', which is what I was called by some Polish friends who found '*****' difficult to pronounce. ****** became a useful name to me for the migrant workers to call me and when I didn’t want to be instantly rejected later on by people who knew the abusers. For a very long time I actually tried to change my name to ******* but never quite had the money for the deed poll, my name in full would have been ****** ********, but I failed to get it changed in England and while in Jersey on a Jersey passport and licence it was almost impossible to deed poll change my name. I got a Jersey passport when I spotted an error on my English one which made people at St. A’s think I was lying about my age (they jumped to conclusions and made the churchwarden ask if I was lying), and because I was staying in Jersey I was allowed a Jersey passport.

The service at St. M's was very powerful, a God party, a mixture of praise worship, meditation and healing ministry. But it was very different to the kind of worship I was used to in Hampshire; this was my first taste of the Jersey style Americanized charismatic church. And though I am not comfortable with a lot of what that and other churches did and do, I continued to really find that service refreshing. Though things like Jill and George’s daughter going round telling people quietly what visions and words she wanted them to say they ‘got  from God’ doesn’t seem right in any way shape or form, other things like the worship songs and music were very powerful and well done. A mixture of good and quite frightening in a way, and I was sad to see Bishop Trevor join in the ‘prophetic games’ when he came over to the Island, they got him to say that he knew that there was someone there ‘feeling afraid’.

(14/01/14, interestingly, Bishop Trevor has now been involved in the massive farce investigation despite his links with JM and also St. M's and his approval of the signs and wonders game, I gather he is also responsible for Peter Ould, which generally means he is conflicted)

People from my new church at First Tower greeted me, their church was St. A‘s, I felt that God was calling me to their church rather than St. M's or the Parish church, though I continued to go to 8am and evening services at these churches because I was working on Sundays and the evening service at St. A’s turned out to be of very poor quality, while the Parish church was handy for me for early communion before work, as was a church closer to work, and I liked the early communion congregation, they were quiet and gentle and nice.

Here goes the account of what happened (part 1):

I went to the evening service at St A's a week later, there were few people there, and immediately I felt I had stepped into a different world, a strange world where church had a different meaning to what it meant in the churches in Hampshire, there was a handful of people there, a table being used as an altar, a candle, a funny atmosphere, some badly sung repetitive songs and some people talking in a very odd way, this was my introduction to the cult style evangelical/charismatic church in Jersey, which has a very  extreme lean to it and follows the example of American evangelistic churches despite being 'church of England' I was bewildered, having known nothing but the traditional churches in Hampshire, I remained at a loss to express what I saw in these churches in Jersey until in the final days of my life in Jersey, (name redacted, employee of the church of England) articulated it in agreement to what I told him I had seen in those churches.

Yes There is a lot I cannot ‘prove’, but I can tell you what I went through and what the atmosphere was and what was said to me, some of this is still so very traumatic that it is taking everything I have and am to put it down on paper and some things cannot be adequately verbalized by me in the state I am in.

Anyway, this evening service was the service where I met my abuser, he came in late, walked round the church shaking hands with the men and hugging the ladies tightly, (he later told me he did not like hugging men, but he loved hugging and touching ladies),
my abuser came to me, and told me that he had mistaken me for a boy (oh, thanks!), he asked if he could sit with me, I said ok, after all we were in church, he told me proudly that he was a church officer (churchwarden), and so I thought he must be ok, because so many of my friends were churchwardens or in positions in the church. He took me up for communion at the table, he seemed surprised that I knew how to take communion and also that I knew the Bible.

After the service the vicar’s wife came and sat behind us and spoke to us, she said God had told her that someone new to the church would be at the service, I assured her I wasn’t new to the church of England, just new to her church, the way she spoke about God speaking to her reminded me of my Mother. And someone else came over at some point and tried to give me a vision, but I politely refused to play, he was one of a little group of people who I named ‘the fanatics’, they acted like they are stoned, their eyes are empty and God is a kind of drug to them, they scared me.

The abuser later said something about the Vicar’s wife coming over to check that he was behaving himself or something, and I was puzzled. He looked vaguely like (name redacted), but I couldn’t imagine (name redacted) or any of the others in my old churches saying anything like that.
After the service he took me for a walk, we walked along the seafront, he proudly told me that he was a dinghy instructor and that he would take me sailing one day, he asked me a lot of questions, some of which were too personal, asking me about boyfriends and things, but because he was a churchwarden I trusted him.
When we parted company I was still intrigued by him, he was a really unusual man, but life went on and I puzzled about him during the week, I was still raw about George and Jill and I didn’t believe I was going to make friends in Jersey in what was meant to just be a summer there before I moved on.

The next evening service I went to there, he took me for a walk afterwards, as we walked away from the church he told me that he said that he knew that we hadn’t known each other long but he wanted to be my adoptive dad and he wanted me to be his adoptive daughter, he asked it as a question, and he wanted an answer so I said yes, he took my hand and walked holding my hand, we crossed the road and I cannot remember quite what was said but it was something about being hit by a car, he said he wanted my real dad’s phone number – in case something happened to me, I refused and was a bit put out both that he assumed I had a dad and that he would have a right to his number and that he assumed my dad was my next of kin, which he wasn’t, I refused him that number, he asked more personal questions about boyfriends and things, I cannot remember what. We walked along the seafront again and he held my hand, he snatched his hand away a few times when he was worried about people nearby seeing us.

We sat in a shelter on the seafront and the sun was glaring and setting, it was beautiful and I felt peaceful and bemused by all this. He told me about himself, his childhood in Havre de Pas, his dad leaving his mum for a mistress, his schooling at the private school and his work in England and wife and two sons, he told me he was a dinghy instructor and that he would teach me to sail, then he said that he had to get home or his wife would be angry, which sounded terrible, then he said he wanted to take me home to meet his wife.
We arrived at their house, he walked in ahead and said ‘I’m home ?darling? and I have ******  with me’.

We went into the front room and his wife was sitting there stripping heads off lavender to make lavender pillows, she looked up and tried to disguise her expression with a smile, but the first expression was not a smile, it was not a happy expression, and she had not met me before, I was briefly startled, she got up and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on and her husband sat down and started clumsily trying to strip the lavender heads, he looked comical, I joined in this game.

It ended up late when I left, his wife was tired, I was tired, but I was glowing from their company, I felt less alone having made such a connection with Island church people, he wanted to hug me but I wasn’t ready for hugs, so I let them hold onto my hands, they made friendly indications that we had a friendship.

And a friendship developed, it was always a slightly bizarre and confused one for me, but I fell for them, I loved them, I loved this bizarre crazy mannered man and his wife who varied between sad eyed Christian friendship and open unhappiness at the situation.
It was the next time I saw them that the wife said ‘You know we meant what my husband said about you being like a daughter don’t you?’ He actually always said ‘adoptive daughter’ or ‘daughter’ and she always said ‘Like a daughter’ she didn’t really like it at all from start to finish, but I was not ‘like a daughter to her’, it was her husband’s wish and she was going along with it, even as he said later ‘she is trying to be a good Christian’.

(14/01/14 This daughter thing was within a few weeks of meeting them, if I had been ‘normal’ I may have questioned this)

'It might affect his CRB check'

Even early on, during that first summer, the churchwarden was extremely tactile and would get me to go to him and would hold my hand while he talked to other church members.
He also took to picking me up off the ground outside church, and his wife obviously disapproved of that, I didn't really understand.
But he would lift me right off the ground, he would do this whether his wife was there or not, but I did not know it wasn't right, until the man at Autism Jersey told me it wasn't right.

But his wife was very strange about it, she did not explain, she got annoyed with him about it but told me that it was 'because it might affect his CRB check.

Having been CRB checked myself, I knew that him picking me up off the ground would do nothing of the sort. and I told her this but she would not explain, she just said that church people had noticed and it could affect his CRB.

This added to the puzzlement and shame already building up in this unhealthy relationship.

Sex without the Duvet (don't worry, I am not going to be like Peter Ould and blog about sex)

Sex without the duvet. One thing that really stands out in my memory when I think about the Church Warden in Jersey, is his 'sex without the duvet' remark. It is still a sickening but also bizarre and very faintly amusing conversation.

In the evenings, the churchwarden would be in his office, and his wife would watch television. If I went upstairs to the toilet (the only toilet in the house was upstairs) or to my room for something, the churchwarden would call me to him, offer me a hug, or sit me on his knees, the reason I allowed this was because he had made the relationship into a parent and child one, regressing me to childhood (which in itself was very harmful combined with his sexual behaviour, especially in the years afterwards as I remained regressed and could not cope with the church's response to the abuse).

Anyway, , the churchwarden called me to him and sat me on his knees. We were talking, and I cannot remember without looking at the statements, what the rest of the conversation was about, but he told me that sex was better without the duvet in the way because you could get much closer together.
I am pretty sure I replied that he was just an old man, and I got off his knees and went downstairs to his wife and talked to her about red sports cars (because for some time, despite my dislike of red, I was always thinking about red sports cars).

Later the churchwarden seemed worried and asked me if I had told his wife what he had told me (he must have known it was wrong to tell me that, but at the time, beyond being a bit shocked, I didn't really understand or do anything). I told him that I had only talked to her about red sports cars.
He said she would be embarrased about the sex without the duvet conversation, but later when I spoke up about the abuse he denied any inappropriate conversation, although he admitted some of his behaviour both to the police and JM, but claimed to have been trying to heal me, and claimed to JM that the sexual conversations were about healing me from childhood abuse as he believed my problems were sexual.
I wonder how many other adult church abuse survivors have heard that one?

But anyway, in my scant understanding of sex and relationships, at least I know that sex is better without the duvet, although I have no intention of ever checking that for myself.

http://www.bing.com/images/search?q=red+sports+cars&qpvt=red+sports+cars&FORM=IGRE

Those who don't already understand this, I was already childlike, but the churchwarden called me his 'little daughter' and regressed me to young childhood, calling himself my 'daddy' and his wife my 'mummy' despite her resentment, and unfortunately he was not a therapist but the regression and sexual behaviour left me childlike and re-abused with no resolution and I remained thinking like a child and very disturbed and bewildered with no-one apart from Autism Jersey able to help, and as they were very stretched indeed in budget and resources, it was hard for them to help. And back then, psychological services in Jersey would not accept an autistic person for treatment, which is why I campaigned about that, and they changed things, too late for me.

The damage is lasting, and has yet to be addressed. But I am in the correct therapy for it.

the ould bully is back

Obviously Peter Ould is shooting his mouth off about me again, I have stats from his sex blog on my site, so he is still an unashamed school bully, what a shame. He loves to prove how much contempt he has for God by adding to the Diocese's harm of me and jeering about me. Poor man, he must be quite insecure.
School bullies usually belong in school, but I guess the church of england is where they end up when schools out.
Sex blogger Peter Ould, who represents why the church of england is finished and should be disbanded as it has no morals and is nothing to do with Jesus, should find someone else to bully in order to get his kicks. Jesus is not going to be pleased to see him when he marches arrogantly into heaven, because he doesn't love or honour Jesus.
Please do not access my blog from the ould bully's sex blog, to me, that is the same as living in a house where an unmarried couple sleep together, it is not something I want in my life.

I don't suppose the ould bully gave anyone the link to my day to day blog, because he would rather I was a branded villian for his colleagues in Jersey than a human being who has been destroyed and abused. He himself is re-abusing me by attacking my life through his sex blog.

http://lifeafterthediocese.blogspot.co.uk/

Today

There are days when I believe the Church of England, when I believe their condemnation of me and that I am all bad, days when I know that no matter what I do or what I say or how I live, I will be condemned and never be allowed to be a good person.
Today is one of those days, as they continue to harm me without remorse or responsibility for their own wrongs, that I cannot believe in myself.
If there was any good in me, why will someone in authority not stop the church of england from continuing to destroy me?
I am damaged beyond repair and hanging on by a thread, any good in me and in my life is wiped out while my faults and supposed faults are wiped over my face and I am not allowed to be myself but only the church of england's version.

Psalm 69 http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalm%2069&version=NIV

sick of the church of england

well here I am awake, the Church of England's destroyal of me is apparently far from over, and so I am sick and unable to sleep. Instead of ending it at their crass insensetive forcing on me of 'help' last year, they are still producing reports that villify me and omit my side of things.

John Gladwin and Christine Daly never finished getting my side of things and only had a token meeting with me when Bob Hill insisted, I kept asking John and Christine to put an end to the Diocese of Winchester's harm to me and the Steel investigation, but they would not help, would not ask the Bishop not to lie in the press or ask for the conflicted investigation to be withdrawn, instead, they probably have used that against me.

I didn't realise that there are still more inaccurate reports to come, John Gladwin's report that omits my side of things and includes Dame Steel's report that she did on behalf of the wrongdoers, this follows the inaccurate and deeply damaging Korris report that was done without my side of things included, and a 'safeguarding report' about the way the police treated me, which again omits my side of things and apparently claims that the way the police handled me was reasonable, despite the fact that the Jersey police have from the start not behaved in a correct way and have commited misconduct and inflicted brutality and behaved in an unethical and unprofessional way throughout.
Even the Korris report omits the police sending me the results of their interview with the churchwarden by email and then the same day brutalizing me and flinging me into a cell for a period of time while talking to me as if I had commited a crime, while they did not do the same to the churchwarden, they probably shook hands with him and never even put him in a cell, shaking hands being something important to the brotherhood.
The Korris report claims that the police sent me a nice fluffy letter about keeping the churchwarden on record, but they didn't. I received no letter.

But how would the Korris report or Steel report or any report get a genuine record from the police when even I was not given a genuine record? The police repeated inaccuracies back to me and to Hampshire police, and who oversees the police? A reader in one of the Churches involved, a friend of the abuser, the home affairs minister for Jersey, one and the same person.
The same person who claimed in the States that I was not deported in my pyjamas, when I was, so how can any report get anything but a distorted view of what happened to me?
The safeguarding report into the way I was handled by the police did not include my account of things, but would have been handled by the Home Affiars minister who is a reader and member of the church and friend of the churchwarden who abused me.

I do not think the brutality and jeers and the way I was told my side was not valid and the way the police were inaccurate in account of what happened to me was reasonable.
But the Home Affiars Minister for Jersey and politician Philip Bailhache, both have had influence over the reports done, and have both used their combined positions in the church and state to bias things.

And as I have been excluded from giving my side of things in all reports and instead have been threatened and villified by the Bishop, the whole thing is one terrible farce.
What I do not understand is why they seem happy to inflict this grinding terrible unending destroyal of me on me when they had already more than destroyed me with repeated one-sided police and court cases against me, where I had no voice and no-one one to speak for me. What is the point? Is it just a question of forcing me to commit suicide because I cannot live with their unchristian damnation of me and refusal to let me live my life or even rebuild from what they have destroyed?