More On My Journey

Since my sister died of sepsis, and my beloved O’Driscoll, my constant companion, died exactly a week later, I have found my emotions somewhat confusing. I have started to grieve, certainly, but this has been blocked by realising that a vicar I had trusted was coercively controlling me. He made agreements on my behalf, despite my objections, started to help me with projects which got left by the wayside, he would shame me when I mentioned something out of context, and repeated malicious untruths in order to serve his purpose and control me with shame and low self- esteem.

Finally, I’ve had the strength to take this to the police. They are safeguarding me and have encouraged me to invoice this man for jobs I’ve had to pay for because he controlled and made a mess of things.

Health wise, I’ve kind of felt empowered since I started going to visit my sister on my own instead of depending on lifts from the vicar. This, despite the shock of the deaths in my life, has left me feeling more capable and in charge of my life. It began with my ex- husband walking out. Oh, he made me feel so feeble, but really it was a depression caused by him that drained me.

I’ve still needed paramedics at times to nebulise me, almost always in the late evening or early hours. Thankfully, I was prescribed a different inhaler which is far more efficacious. I am much more in charge of my breathing and feel much less passive.

Love came calling in the wonderful shape of Mike Ebsworth. He kind of bulldozed into my life, seducing me emotionally with his thoughtfulness, kindness, humour, gentleness, interestingness, and individuality. I never noticed him before, he was a quiet, almost boring man. It lasted almost two months until someone started blackmailing him. It’s the only way she can have him.

So, grief aside, I am losing weight still. This really concerns me. I want to gain weight so badly.


Untitled – poem published by Anti-Heroin Chic


you remember those summers,

after Germany, long and hot

on the grass or in the apple trees

our world, our castles really in the air,

branches so familiar, smoothed by jeans

and you’d sing into the skipping rope

later I’d hear them on the radio

and think you were magic, a moonbeam

you styled my taste in music for a long time

I wanted to look like you, have style

not look so young, so childlike, so thin

it was your love, your arms I craved

and then, much too soon, I’m your bed

as you begin to die, fading,

a moon beam fading

into the morning