In my last post I forgot to mention my hip, even though it was in the title.
It had been giving way for a few days. Not painful, just unreliable. Today it has been fine. My femoral nerve seems better too.
I am still writing, despite all the enmity that came my way for standing up for my principals. My stats are good.
We just had our 8pm clap for NHS staff. It’s such a unifying thing. And afterwards there is always my thank you email. It is so uplifting.
It’s so sad that we have had to rely on people raising money to fund the NHS. Even though it’s funded by our income tax the government has not funded it properly for 11 years.
We have rain. And the temperature has dropped. We need rain. I did not need a drop in temperature though. All I can do is make the best of it.
My garden is full colour. My chosen colours. The bees are busy.
It’s been an odd day, but productive. I did waken until noon, so I had fourteen hours sleep and I feel better for it.
A friend sent a text to say she was going to a store and I thought that she keeps doing far too much.
I was writing and making my dinner. My cell phone rang and a man said ”Is this Chrissie?”
I said I was and he told my friend had collapsed. Since I was her most frequently contacted name on her phone he called me. I told him her daughter’s name but he couldn’t find her number so I gave the name of her brother.
Then I dashed up to see if I could reassure my friend. The paramedic was about to close the ambulance door but I asked him to tell her I had come. it’s reassuring when you know someone gives a damn.
I came home. It was raining and I got plenty of strange looks as I was not dressed for rain. But I care more about my friends than I do about getting wet.
At 9pm she said she was home and had no milk. I put some milk in a jug and took it to her.
She didn’t look good but who does after that? Ordinarily she would have stayed in hospital overnight, but at this time it is a risk.
I had a brief chat with the guy who took my call at switch. They are undervalued and not thought of. He appreciated my thanks as they always do.
The rain! Great for my garden. Great for keeping people who gather in groups at home.
I’m so grateful for my garden. My friends and the local hospital. My daughter was fabulous while I was ill last week and has brought shopping again.
I am bucking the trend. I am drinking less alcohol since lockdown and not over eating. I am content with my very local friends, but I do miss the ones further afield who I see regularly.
It’s been a good day. I had breakfast with a friend al fresco and did some writing. The people next door printed a photo of the malicious letter from a previous neighbour as they had thrown the original into their fire. I have reported it.
They are upset by such interference in their lives. I am grateful that they told me as now I know that she sent one to my previous neighbours. I was so shocked that they turned against me overnight.
It doesn’t occur to me that someone could be so malicious and wicked. How sad that her life is filled with hate and she keeps checking to see if the house is available.
I gave her so many bottles of wine, a book, flowers. When she broke her back I sent flowers and they came back. I lent her a book, don’t know what happened to that. M. Ebsworth replaced it for me. She threw 12kg of kindling over the fence into my garden. A jar of wax and a food cover.
Anyway, I got writing done. Planted tomato plants, my cleaner came,, a friend came.
I am getting some colour on my legs and arms. I feel good. My hip is a problem as it gives way after biting. I need to meditate.
Danette came to medium through my link! God bless her. Anyone can find my articles in my web profile.
I just was named Productivity Wizard by my editing suite. A great end to my day.
The paths less traveled Are full of roots to trip on Stones not smoothed by footsteps Cobweb webs hang from trees Like dewey curtains, thick The grass is long, staining your feet And branches will whip your face Or scalp as wild birds call And sing, unused to humans
Don’t take your horse for a while Find the rabbit holes and loose roots Spare him falling and breaking his knees Or losing a shoe, cast stones aside Lead him, talking the while to stop him Spooking, and if he should be spooked Go back and tie him to graze
This path is not for everyone, only brave And courageous who are willing to learn A different way to live and give It is for those who have nothing to lose Who stand true and strong in self Knowing their wit and agility Having already faced in life The worst and best it has
Choose carefully, return is not sure You may fall and lie wounded Or fall and break your neck Might be better to take the path Commonly travelled; no surprises No discomfort or risks Just a comfotable stroll, no hastles And no euphoric reward
Midnight, moon is majestic. Full moon, super moon, Pink Moon.
So many titles for tonight. I woke to adore you and tapped my neighbor’s window.
Mysterious moon you are so beautiful that Sun bathes you in light
though she is jealous and will not share her sky, not with you nor starssometimes you slip into her scrim.Moon, you light lovers, paths, and creatures of the night.I need the Sun but I have awe for Moon.I
I am so happy to be free of someone else’s dream to make money by micromanaging a group of over 2000 people and growing. It means he gets reads which is how income is earned.
So his long, dense articles get read on average by approx 2000 people. About seven minutes long. That’s huge amounts of money. If I read, I skimmed. There was rarely anything new except commands to do this or the other.
I was publishing elsewhere too. Now I’ve started my own publication. It’s for expert information articles and poetry.
My stats are up since being free of that group. They are similar to before I was included. I am earning more again which seems odd.
Some other libel arrived nextdoor last week from the woman who trespassed in my home twice, was vile about my sister’s death when she was drunk, and cold when Mike appeared in my bedroom at 3am. No concern for me at all.
Nextdoor are angry at Ms Woodhouse and her lies. Her handwriting was immediately recognised. Toxic person.
I’ve had to cut out another friend who contradicted a statement she made, as is her wont, and hurt me terribly by defending unacceptable behaviour by my ex-husband. I was speechless. But spoke to her about it, only to have her say she couldn’t remember what she said.
So out with the old and in with the new. I have a much better friend just round the corner. She appreciates me and is kind and caring.
I am recovered from the food poisoning. It was ghastly. At first I thought I was about to die and then I was afraid I would not.
Once all the violence is over, the relief is huge.
I am drinking more than eating and that’s ok. My daughter made two pizzas for me last night and some laundry for me.
I need to sleep . My garden is lovely, I adore it.
My queasiness turned into violent vomiting which unnerved me. Once that was over I seemed to feel myself again. I drank lots, with a rehydration tablet dissolved in it and went to bed.
But I awoke in a discombobulated state. I drank loads more water and ate some protein.
I checked in with my GP, not just about the food poisoning but another issue too. He told me I would need several days to recover fully.
I brought up the issue of linking with the hospice and became very weepy. It’s so emotive.
He suggested I might see a neurologist locally. I’ve already seen him. An excellent doctor, but an appalling bedside manner, and lack of awareness.
I don’t want to be poked and prodded again. I’ve been an experiment too much already. I want peace.
I love my life. I love my home. I love where I live. I’m just tired of forgetting where I put things and the energy it takes to do everything.
If only I could breathe without effort.
Mark, my GP, our children went to school together, so we address each other by first names, says we need to talk face to face so it has to wait until lockdown is over.
This is when I want a hand to hold in the night. My ex-husband would hold my hand in night if I slipped mine into his. No words. The same with Michael. I had a long relationship after I divorced my husband, and we touched as we slept too.
I have two heroes today. Mainly my daughter.
The vitriol on medium goes on. Callum Brown also made a complaint but about far more than I did.
This reminds me of you when your head gets yanked out of the sand.
Dear M,
You were boring. The night you started messaging me I got bored. Went to sleep. You crashed into my bedroom door with a flashlight and woke me and refused to leave.
You seemed so sincere. So I stopped yelling at you to get out and told you to go downstairs. You were so meek in obeying. I got dressed and came down to see what you wanted to talk about. I noticed then it was 3am.
You made me a cup of tea. You were so sweet.
You remembered that I get cold feet. You tried to warm them. I thought that wow, the boring man is a sweet drunk.
I kept trying to send you home. So many times. You made so many excuses to not go. And finally, that thing you shared a house with yanked you back. Abusively. Just how it always referred to you. Idiot. …doesn’t matter, it’s Mike’s… he’s a complete idiot…
Always putting you down behind your back.
The first time I knew you lied was when I asked you if you ever had had a beard. Your eyes travelled to your housemate for guidance…you replied no. But I knew I had seen you with one.
I didn’t like that you groped my legs that early morning/night when I should have been sleeping. I was furious. Of course, I should have told the thing. My mistake. I should have called the police instead of indulging you. The heartache it would have saved.
I asked you to make amends. You didn’t even finish that. But before not finishing, you again molested me and then seduced me. I wanted a spare bed or a blanket, but somehow I ended up in your bed. Although there was another one you could have used. You had entirely separate rooms. You could have used your housemate’s bed.
I did not want sex or to be naked, I wanted sleep. I had already been asleep. No one rapes me since I was raped, so we had consensual sex. It was pretty good considering. And again in the morning and the afternoon.
I felt nothing for you. Especially hearing the fake laugh into your phone to your housemate.
Things happened. Extreme rudeness from the housemate. (I should have told her you had groped my legs and taken me to your bed.)
My friend chucked stuff you promised to dispose of for me over the fence. I was not happy about that. I was cross. Your housemate threw them the next day nearly giving me a head injury.
I made a statement to the police about you. I wish I had never withdrawn it. Never let you take me to your bed twice before I told you about that statement to the police.
I still felt nothing for you. Then you started visiting me. I wanted not to be used. I wanted to be touched but not love.
I liked you. You were kind, thoughtful. Then it got more than talking. I liked it. I liked you.
I was fine when you lied to me. I realised I was better off without a coward, a bullied man.
Then your ex phoned and she was stunned at how much you had opened up to me. She thought I would see you again.
I was fine until you did come back to see me. When I realised your desire for me, I finally fell in love.
And then you became a nightmare. Using me, being lustful. Being lurid in your boredom. I realised the depth of your alcoholism. You looked terrible.
When we coincided at the Custom House, my companion and I moved to be in the sun. Not to avoid you. After all, I had done nothing wrong. You looked like two strangers who decided to share a table because it was crowded. Not even friends or housemates.You gazed me for far too long and often. Those sunglasses don’t suit you. You looked at me in a way that told me everything.
Your friends, Simon Bagnall, Matt Hammond, all of them, enable your alcoholism. They don’t care that you broke my laptop, they just enable you to avoid taking responsibility for your life. All I want is a laptop that works. And someone to help you get sober, which comes through connection.
You will die an early death. Everyone who loved you, hates you now. Your Dad, your ex, me, your housemate hates you too. Her alcoholism is more advanced than yours.
You know she is foul when it is drunk. She was vile after my sister died. Abusive and vile. A drunk. You admitted it that morning at 3am.
Your path is set. Unless you get sober. Get connection in your life. Instead of having your housemate at your tail abusing you, mocking you, making you small.
I wonder if you ever will. Get sober. I’m not actually capable of hate. I just want my laptop replaced or fixed. I’d like the truth to be told.
You said you would tell me what your housemate has over you when you are ready. I’m waiting. You owe me so many amends.
Now I know that your housemate wrote to the next tenants, telling her lies. But they were truly ghastly. They were clearing the shed when I knocked to ask if they needed anything. She looked at me so strangely that I wondered if you had left all my books in the shed. They had my name in them. The ones you said you would take to charity shops. Now I know they got a letter from your housemate. I had a year of acute pain, but the second letter got rid of such cruel people.
The current tenants showed me the letter, and are disgusted that anyone would behave like that.
I am so grateful for the friends I have in my life. Some for all my life. They are all different. They all bring out the best in me, and all would say the same things of me.
The last thing my friends need to know about me is that I have a Ph.D. It does not define me.
Those I have had difficulty with, such as Key Living, my former neighbours, and Michael E. are because of unprofessional behaviour, gossip, and alcoholism. Those are nothing to do with me.
The editor that has harassed me for months became more vicious when I messaged his blog to ask to stop. I had to give an email address and I was not going to my own. I had already told him that. So I asked various of my friends and selected one from a professor friend who was interested seeing the replies.
That editor now thinks I have used different identities, even though the name is easily found on the web. But it fuels his persecution complex. Which sits alongside his narcissitic tendency. He’s rather like Trump.
So he has published a reply from Callum Brown. Reporting it to be from me. What a fool, because he has broken all the rules of medium.com and made a fool of himself.
He styles himself as Dr but he only has a BSc. And the institution where he claims to have gained L3 in architecture has no record of him.
A friend of mine in Malaysia has written extensively about Covid 19. Here are some facts you need to know about a corona virus:
SARS survivors are also more likely to develop neuropsychiatric disorders at 31–50 months post-infection, compared to the non-infected. The data shows that 54.5% of SARS survivors had PTSD, 39% had depression, 36.4% had pain disorder; 32.5% had panic disorder, and 15.6% had obsessive-compulsive disorder.Whereas the prevalence of these disorders was only 3% before the SARS epidemic.
To survive Covid19, you need to eat high protein, fats such as legumes and meat, and as few carbs as you can. Carbs feed foreign bacteria and free radicals, so they compromise the immune system.
Writer and psychologist. My health, a journey with two life shortening diseases 
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