Today I was assaulted: Day #9 (life)

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Adults only, trigger warning!

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UPDATE – RESULTING INJURIES/ACTION

DAY #9 – WEDNESDAY 5TH AUGUST 2020

Wednesday today, it’s a full week  and one day since the physical assault took place.

The swelling of the thumb is further reduced though the swelling is barely noticeable and bruised coloured. Still can’t use it properly. It aches and there’s a sharp pain if it accidentally gets touched in the wrong way or if I forget and raise it a little – unable to fully move it. I eventually got a doctor’s appointment – not Dr Good – another doctor who gave me a few sleeping pills as I’m having difficulty sleeping and he referred me for scans of my spine and thumb. Overall I was pleased with him.

I wasn’t happy with the rude receptionist – why do they pick these types? Where was the politeness and professionalism? She had a rude way of talking and really couldn’t be bothered with you the customer who is really, at the end of the day, paying her wages! John was flustered at her loud/bored/rude: We want to avoid as many people as possible! and I had to call out that I’m physically disabled needing his help after I’d zombie-walked in front of her to the other side of the room to sit down. I can’t use my walking stick with the damaged thumb hand and since there was a little walking involved, had to lean on John’s arm.

My dogs need bathing, nail trimming and I can’t do it. John normally holds the shower hose, wets them then puts them on my lap and I shampoo them. Kind reassuring words are needed during this traumatic process. John said he’ll do it by himself but I’ll sit in there to provide emotional support and to ensure the shampoo is properly washed out of their fur.

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THANK YOU TO EVERY SWEET PERSON FOR THEIR KINDNESS IN SUPPORTING ME DURING THIS DIFFICULT TIME. YOU CANNOT REALISE WHAT STRENGTH THIS GIVES ME AND I’M MUCH APPRECIATIVE. LOVE YOU, BE WELL, FAITH XOX

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Copyright Faith McCord 2020

Story and artwork belongs to Faith McCord who is the author and artist holding the copyright. This is not a public domain work. Worldwide rights.

 

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Today’s Beauty: A Dragonfly (photos)

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Sunday night upon entering the kitchen I heard a furious humming of wings and slapping of body against the ceiling fluorescent light tube. I immediately thought of fairies! When I saw it I still thought of fairies. It was really big this poor panicking flying insect.

I could see it was a dragonfly.

I shouldn’t have done what I did next which was to stand on a stepping stool (the ‘kick-along’) to try and capture it inside a clear plastic container. Three times it settled on my outstretched hand as I cooed to it. On the fourth attempt I gently caught it. I brought it through to the front room to look at the dragonfly under the craft light there.

I was amazed by its enormous eyes covering most of its head. I marvelled at the strong aerodynamic body and the metallic wings.

I took a poor quality photo and short film from my kindle. It was all I could do not having better equipment.

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I then took this fascinating little creature outside to deposit it in one of my flower tubs. For a moment it refused the flower and jumped on my hand. I had to gently nudge it onto the flowers. It paused a moment and then flew off into the night sky.

:::::::::::::::: ARE YOU ABLE TO ID THIS DRAGONFLY FOR ME?:::::::::::::::: 

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“Daffodils” by William Wordsworth (1770-1850)

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

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Note: I wanted to write up this post earlier in the week but the assault two days later took up most of my time.

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Copyright Faith McCord 2020

Story and artwork belongs to Faith McCord who is the author and artist holding the copyright. This is not a public domain work. Worldwide rights.

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Today I was assaulted: Day #6 (life)

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Adults only, trigger warning!

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UPDATE – RESULTING INJURIES

DAY #5 EVENING

John opened the packets and I made vegan-ham + cucumber sandwiches. Can’t spread anything on the bread because of not being able to use my thumb so just squirted on salad cream. Watered a few indoor plants after John filled the bottles and we watched some UNFORGOTTEN on Netflix (UK fictional crime).

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DAY #6

Slept seven hours last night. Swelling of my thumb has gone down a little, it’s still very sore and cannot use it properly – unable to grip/hold/snap pills/pick up dogs etc. Bruises still on my arm, beginning to fade. No photos today.

Awoke to feeling very low. I suppose it’s harder bouncing back from this stuff when you’re already chronically ill without the real support of ‘family’, and all kinds of past trauma just adds up beginning from childhood. The past trauma with all its ugly heads all poking out at me.

And I have the continual backstabbing and behind-the-scenes attacking from BS/Golden – the ‘little’ sister who never really grew up to be a healthy woman; who, at 44 still rides about on learner plates on a moped but in spite of this manages to focus on trying to ruin me out of sick jealousy instead of sorting her own life out for the better. That’s when she’s able to – kind of – think outside of her drug-fuelled haze. I know she’s trying to get ‘information’ from our mother via the legal action I’m taking against her friend and quite possibly herself because of a thing called incitement. I wrote about that in the first/second post on this.

I went NO CONTACT with the siblings and cohorts sixteen and nine years ago when I had enough of their various threats of violence. I wouldn’t have had the little thug cutting the grass in the first place, but that is not my decision to make, I live again in my parents’ house. Because of my ill health and toxic siblings I’m staying put till I have to move – and have the money to move and buy a home of my own. No possibility of me working a normal job again, otherwise I would have left years ago – again.

I have no mother to trust, she denies away the trouble Golden causes and even now, though it’s less regular, rages at me or leaves me *stranded. She connects less with me now than ever before. Last night she assumed I was making her a dinner – although I said I can’t cook because of my damaged hand. She’s quite able bodied for her age thanks to all the walking she’s done/does, she can easily make something to eat but is used to me doing it. Yes, I do love her which is a different love from the usual mother-daughter love because she didn’t want to bond with me. I ‘mothered’ her from when I was a child. I also mothered my little sister even though she received preferential treatment – reading/writing/spelling, shoe-lace tying, clock time reading, bicycling etc etc – and this is all the thanks she has for me. For those folk who are normal and genuinely curious, you can read all about narcissistic abuse on the internet – I’m the designated scapegoat.

I know the ugly I feel inside has nothing really to do with me. But I’m feeling really ugly now. I will try to do something creative today. But that’s hard with the damaged thumb. Yesterday I wrote an update in my pocket Filofax but the words came out all light and spidery. I can’t use scissors, nor hold a sewing needle. Typing this since the attack hurts my right hand even with just using the fingers of that hand.

THANK YOU TO EVERY SWEET PERSON FOR THEIR KINDNESS IN SUPPORTING ME DURING THIS DIFFICULT TIME. YOU CANNOT REALISE WHAT STRENGTH THIS GIVES ME AND I’M MUCH APPRECIATIVE. LOVE YOU, BE WELL, FAITH XOX

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*Was left stranded when she intentionally left me at the garage while my car was being fixed. I cannot walk properly or far sometimes needing my mobility scooter and sometimes fall. She was enraged that I didn’t meet her inside the shop – it was a scorching hot August day and I was thirsty. She hadn’t arrived in the ten minutes I’d waited so I went next door to buy a drink and when I returned they said she’d driven off. So I had to sit alone and wait for them to finish doing what they did to my car. When I got home she started to rage at me for ‘not being there’. That’s my sweet mother. Supportive, sweet and motherly. Not.

 

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Copyright Faith McCord 2020

Story and artwork belongs to Faith McCord who is the author and artist holding the copyright. This is not a public domain work. Worldwide rights.

 

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Today I was assaulted: Day #5 (life)

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Adults only, trigger warning!

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UPDATE – RESULTING INJURIES

DAY #4 EVENING

Already covered in Today I was assaulted: Day #4 (life)

 

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DAY #5

Slept ten hours last night. Took photos of my damaged thumb for the fifth day. Still very sore and cannot use properly – unable to grip/hold/snap pills/pick up dogs etc. Bruises still on my arm.

To reiterate, the Wuhan Virus has impacted holidaymakers in Norfolk – there’s more than usual and driving is at a crawl in town. I just don’t have the energy to pursue x-rays over this extremely busy weekend, I’ll go Monday. Also, I noticed that most people no longer care to social distance, I cannot afford to get ill with my low immune system. Many people obviously from out of the area perhaps bringing the virus with them – yes!, some of us are extremely vulnerable to it. I am worried anyway with going to the hospital when it can be easily picked up from there 😦

Just done online food shop this early Saturday afternoon. I’m tired so shall sleep a little more. Yesterday was Britain’s hottest day this year and today is less hot owing to the cloud cover. The window is open bringing in a soft breeze, bird twitter, neighbourly sounds of washing up in a kitchen and someone DIY-ing their new summerhouse in a back-garden.

 

THANK YOU TO EVERY SWEET PERSON FOR THEIR KINDNESS IN SUPPORTING ME DURING THIS DIFFICULT TIME. YOU CANNOT REALISE WHAT STRENGTH THIS GIVES ME AND I’M MUCH APPRECIATIVE. LOVE YOU, BE WELL, FAITH XOX

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Copyright Faith McCord 2020

Story and artwork belongs to Faith McCord who is the author and artist holding the copyright. This is not a public domain work. Worldwide rights.

 

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Today I was assaulted: Day #4 (life)

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Adults only, trigger warning!

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UPDATE – RESULTING INJURIES

DAY #3 EVENING

I managed to wash my hair but without the use of the damaged thumb. I still cannot grip/hold with it.

After washing and brushing my hair – with only the fingers of the damaged thumb hand with the other hand over the top of the brush – and tediously cleaning myself with rubbing alcohol/tea tree/wintergreen and spraying on cold spray which eases the burning/throbbing on my thumb, lower back, and damaged leg I was suddenly exhausted and could no longer face the drive into town to do the errands (I was to sit in the car while John did them). I also had renewed difficulty in walking and couldn’t make it down the stairs so John brought me a plate of simply cooked food (frozen food he’d reheated in the oven) and I ate some of that. After eating I just got into my bed and slept two hours.

Didn’t get anything done really but I was so pleased I was just about able to wash my hair.

Managed to come downstairs much later, talked a little with my mum, John and cuddled the dogs.

PS. I just want to add, I was delighted to see the return of the dragonfly today – 3 days in a row now. He/she likes my patio garden.

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DAY #4

Slept eight hours last night. Took photos of my damaged thumb for the fourth day, and also photos of the bruises on my arm. My thumb is more swollen today.

I thought I’ve no time to write the 4th day update now – I’ll do it later after the errands of collecting the watch with its new battery and returning the shoes for a refund. I had to get those things out of the way, which I did that afternoon. Before leaving for town I asked John to help shower me, it was good I didn’t fall in the shower, which I can do anyway. He also helped dressing me, usually I can do this by myself – I just need a chair.

On the drive home we stopped off at a shop and I walked round a little instead of using the mobility scooter. We picked up easy food to heat up as I cannot cook ‘from scratch’ like I most times do. Sciatica hit me like a lightning bolt on my already injured hip which is further damaged from the assault. I cried out in the shop, but as I was holding onto the trolley I didn’t fall. I’ve never had the lightning bolt pains in my hip before – just the spine.

We got home. I was able to walk without John into the house (didn’t need his assistance earlier). John heated up the food, we ate, I looked at my blog/kindle, then I slept deeply in my bed for the next three hours. I awoke feeling dehydrated, went downstairs with John and the dogs and sat out in the cool blustery breeze of the night air. Drinking elderflower juice and watering the plants from the hose. Later going inside to watch some TV (‘Unforgotten’) and eat the rest of the dinner I couldn’t manage earlier. Wrote this blog post. Bed.

In the next days I’m sorting out x-rays for my thumb and spine – I hope they’ll do these for me. This weekend is ultra busy with the locusts holidaymakers and driving the car is most often at a crawl. The holiday season is a lot busier than is usual for this time of the year – thanks to the Wuhan Virus. I’m also looking to get some professional help from disabled charities.

I’m unable to sew myself a mask, like I’ve already done for my mum and John because of the assault damaged thumb, so I put my usual butterfly scarf on but it gets very hot not being cotton! I would like to share my own version of the mask pattern I downloaded (from BBC) as I found several flaws in their one. Legally, I don’t have to wear one myself as I’ve asthma.

THANK YOU TO EVERY SWEET PERSON FOR THEIR KINDNESS IN SUPPORTING ME DURING THIS DIFFICULT TIME. YOU CANNOT REALISE WHAT STRENGTH THIS GIVES ME AND I’M MUCH APPRECIATIVE. LOVE YOU, BE WELL, FAITH XOX

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Copyright Faith McCord 2020

Story and artwork belongs to Faith McCord who is the author and artist holding the copyright. This is not a public domain work. Worldwide rights.

 

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Today’s Beauty: Oscar Dandelion! (photos)

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Photos taken yesterday of beautiful Oscar Dandelion. It’s amazing how much love dogs give. I am grateful for that.

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Copyright Faith McCord 2020

Story and artwork belongs to Faith McCord who is the author and artist holding the copyright. This is not a public domain work. Worldwide rights.

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Today I was assaulted: Day #3 (life)

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Adults only, trigger warning!

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UPDATE – RESULTING INJURIES

DAY #2 EVENING

FACE – My face is still tender.

LEFT LEG, LOWER BACK , LEFT HIP, EMOTIONAL – Worse in the evening, walking my usual few steps between rooms and to car is excruciating. I need John’s physical support to aid me, to be able to walk the few steps and not fall over. He has to help me in and out of my chair. John said Runt was shaking me, his hands on me, this action has worsened the pain in my lower back where my spine is cracked and stirred up the chronic pain from the nerve damage in my left hip and left leg.

After he helped me down the hall to the bathroom to my seat there I broke down wailing. I’m tired of people’s anger being directed at me. I’m full of emotional hurt already – and then this happened. I MUST fill my life with kindness and beauty otherwise I can see no reason for it. If people are jealous by that then so be it; it’s not my problem.

I tried gripping my toothbrush with only the fingers of my damaged, dominant hand – it doesn’t work. I encase that hand with the other, giving strength and support but it’s the clumsiest cleaning of my teeth in my life. I’m trying not to choke on the toothpaste because I can’t stop this wailing from deep inside me. John helps me like a child or frail old woman to get up from the seat to lean over the sink.

Already at 23 I had lived the life most people at 50 have never seen. Nearing 50 I now know that to be true. I’d like the bad things to stop. Please.

I would be entirely incapacitated without John’s help.

I drove us to the local shop, managing quite well with only the fingers of my right hand (left hand, untouched by the attacker is obviously fine). Parked outside and waited the five minutes for John. I’m on edge looking about; my nasty siblings live in the same area (I’m sure BS/Golden is also behind the assault).

Walking/supporting me from the car in the drive back into the house is an excruciating slow stumble, I can’t stop crying. I feel sick to the stomach, I’ve eaten nothing all day. I don’t want to cry.

He continues aiding me to my chair in the front room but before that all my little dogs launch themselves on me! They’re full of love and concern for their human mother. Chester runs round me in circles with the toy Octopus Orange. Before I left the house Twiglet clung to the calf of my leg not wanting to let go – full-on separation anxiety. The boys (Oscar and Twiglet) usually want to come out with us in the car but this isn’t his usual way – him and his dad are normally at our heels following us into the porch. The dogs know something is wrong. I obviously cannot also pick up my small dogs with the damaged thumb and John has enough to contend with by having to ‘walk’ me – the boys would have usually come for the ride.

I sat in the rocking chair, the boys on my lap, me gently pressing them to me. I urge John to heat up something to eat for himself, my mum has already sorted out her dinner and is eating.

My body has frozen up from the inflammation – there’s even more of it now – and to my horror find I cannot turn my head left or right. I knew already that I couldn’t, uncharacteristically, turn or slightly twist my body before leaving for the shop. I wasn’t able to reach to my left for the soft shoes I normally just slip my feet into. I wasn’t able to even lift them. I’m thinking of the additional long-term damage he may have inflicted on me with the assault. I wondered whether to ask John to call the ambulance, then I thought I can’t possibly drive, not even for another minute.

I have only ibuprofen for the pain and I’m wanting morphine. If I’d gone to the hospital I would have got it.

Two hours later I’m able to walk a little easier and my head turns again. My body can turn again. My mum puts on my table a magazine, from which there is an article of interest to me – dragonflies. I’m unable to tear out the page without the use of my right thumb, so she does it for me. With the relief of my head turning again, I have an outburst of anger that that dirty little thug put his dirty hands on me. And what if he’s given me that Wuhan Virus? John fetches me my vegan-ham and I eat 3 crackers and drink chilled water.

I need to wash my hair and scrub my face. Also all my dogs (except Chester because of her fairly recent spaying and lump removal) need their bath. Oscar’s sensitive skin is sore and needs his special conditional shampoo. I would love to shower, to attempt at showering but with these further injuries that’s entirely impossible. I’m unable to even wash my hair.

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DAY #3

Slept six hours last night. I’m thinking I need to get my body medically checked out. The thumb and spine are of main concern. My damaged thumb is more coloured and swollen. Maybe it’s broken? Today’s photos below.

Today I’ll attempt to wash my hair as best I can, then drive into town to collect my watch with its new battery and return a pair of shoes so I get my refund. I’ll wait in the car while John does those errands.

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Copyright Faith McCord 2020

Story and artwork belongs to Faith McCord who is the author and artist holding the copyright. This is not a public domain work. Worldwide rights.

 

Posted in Abuse, life | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 10 Comments

Today I was assaulted: Day #2 (life)

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Adults only, trigger warning!

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UPDATE – RESULTING INJURIES

DAY #1 – Day of the attack

FACE – My face, left cheek remains red where he closed-fist punched it. There is some tenderness and later that night a resulting headache (not my usual migraines, a light headache is barely noticeable I’m used to ‘monster pain’; I know it’s from the physical assault). Hurts when I move my jaw.

LEFT LEG – My already injured left leg, already with nerve-damage and that pain, is now more painful due to the attack. It burns and hurts down the top of the thigh. Before I was able to propel myself out of a chair using my legs instead of my back – having to do this because my lower spine is cracked. I used to bodybuild before the accident using men’s weights so still have strength in that damaged leg. Today, after the attack I needed John to *pull the undamaged hand (damaged hand was completely fine before attack) while I’m using the only leg available (right one) to propel myself out of a chair. Another loss of independence.

RIGHT HAND – My right hand – right thumb – injured in the attack (was completely fine before attack) – is no longer usable and is extremely painful, the bruise where he intentionally hit it, after I swiped his pointed finger out of my face, is swelling and beginning to colour.

DAY #2

LEFT ARM – Today I notice for the first time a bruise where he laid his hands on me. John said he had his hands on me but I’ve completely erased that memory (for now).

I’m aware of having erased parts of abuse in my past because they’ve resurfaced many years later.

I think my body itself is recoiling from the attack. The body doesn’t forget ever, on a fully conscious level. There is such a thing as cell memory – passed down to subsequent generations.

Just spotted another small bruise, but the cheap camera on my kindle isn’t picking it up.

FACE – the left side he attacked is more tender today and remains red.

LEFT LEG – Now I only have the option of my right undamaged leg. The left one that was already nerve-damaged and further damaged in the attack lets me ‘walk’ – if walking is what you can call it because I couldn’t walk properly or far to begin with and standing has always been a problem. I still cannot use it to aid me out of a chair. Ascending the stairs to my bedroom took even longer and is just about possible – with no use of the right hand he damaged to hold the stair rail. I lean forwards so not to tumble down the stairs, holding the steps with my undamaged left hand.

RIGHT THUMB – The right thumb is more swollen and bruised-coloured today.

RIGHT HAND – My right hand – the dominant hand – is no longer usable for/helping:

  • propelling me out of a chair/I used to rely on it to hold/grasp
  • holding onto the stair rail
  • holding a walking stick
  • opening bottles, jars, packets
  • holding a glass/cup/bottle/anything
  • wiping my backside
  • washing my hair
  • brushing my hair
  • brushing my dogs’ coats
  • splitting medicinal pills
  • sewing; luckily made two masks for John and my mother before this happened, but I can’t make one for myself now; also, sewing is one of my few pleasures
  • fully typing: I trained as a typist, using all fingers; cannot use right thumb, use just right index and all the left hand as usual; but it hurts to do so
  • holding onto furniture, walls etc to guide me/when I regularly fall from the previous injury (October 2007)
  • tying laces or put on those shoes/boots
  • preparing/cooking food – before I cooked most meals from scratch sitting down.

Alternate ways:

  • dressing/undressing clothes with a movement mimicking the right thumb, index and middle finger in a pinching way.
  • will be driving the car with just right fingers, will have to grasp the steering wheel with those as well as left hand
  • wiping my face/body clean with the before described pincher movement

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SUMMARY

LESSER BODY MOBILITY – I’ve lost even more of the use of my body. I’m therefore left with less options/ability that I would have had had I been able-bodied to begin with.

SHOCK AND FEAR – Strangely, I’m not angry, am still in shock and, yes, I’m frightened. The fear overrides the anger, although knowing me, I will try to (inadequately) defend myself again. I won’t be bullied.

INCITEMENT – It more acutely dawns on me that my birth sister had a **part in this – ‘incitement’ is used as a term in law; I just looked it up. So, this isn’t one hateful man against me, it’s also his two friends, BS (birth sister not bullshit) and her cohabitee. At least those three persons. I don’t know what/if family of his would support him in his physical attack of me. I don’t know WHO else has a part in this hatred against me.

EMOTIONAL INJURY – This fear is just as prevalent as the bodily injuries resulting from the attack.

I didn’t want to sleep last night I was nervous of the bad dreams; that this attack will trigger the memories of a horrific attack from 19 years ago. I eventually couldn’t fight the sleep but didn’t sleep much, waking often with disturbing dreams. I’m still nervous of the bad dreams tonight – and I normally sleep in the day too because chronic pain is exhausting.

Both John and myself are hyper vigilant now. Ensuring doors are locked. And we’ll be looking over our shoulders when we do a couple of errands later.

I worry about the Runt’s little Jack Russell dog – whether she/he will be put in a shelter if Runt’s living alone now (single) if he later goes to prison. Or does he hit his dog too?

It’s a dull day and the daylight is ultra-bright, I know from past experience this is the protective aspect of fear. Fear also has a role in protecting us. I’m feeling numb and fearful. I smell it in my sweat – the same odour from when I was living with my abuser all those years ago.

What impact will these effects have on my already poor health?

I eventually ate a snack last night and drank two beers – I’m usually teetotal – but my appetite for food is off. The silver lining of this, since the disability has made me overweight.

Writing this I know will help – in clearing my mind of the traumatic event and remembering the facts that I can then relay to the police.

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*Need to show John how to properly assist me out of a chair, by grasping my arm in two places; I briefly took care of seniors in a home years ago.

**In 2011 she said to me that I was so ‘out of order’ – meaning I refused to play her cruel games; didn’t allow her narcissistic abuse of me – that she told Weasel (cohabitee) to ‘punch me’. On that day they both threatened him to punch me and they said they wanted to do it before. I don’t like this vile person my BS has become but I would NEVER tell a man to punch her.

 

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Copyright Faith McCord 2020

Story and artwork belongs to Faith McCord who is the author and artist holding the copyright. This is not a public domain work. Worldwide rights.

 

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Today I was assaulted (life)

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Thankfully it was a runt of a ‘man’ – although I use the term man lightly, because real men don’t go round hitting women or cripples – or my recent injuries would be worse.

I’m always aware of my vulnerability ever since the ability of naturally walking was taken from me – that and the pain. There’s no flight for me in Danger when it happens – I can’t run let alone walk fast anymore – unless I’m driving my car. With a cracked spine and nerve damage originating from my hip I cannot defend myself either. But men, even small men are always much stronger than women anyway.

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My two siblings are drug addicts and had threatened violence years ago so I stopped all contact. For some reason I didn’t like being threatened with punches from my birth sister’s (Golden) boyfriend (Weasel) (2011) just because they felt like saying it – I suppose they were jealous of my inner strength. I wanted more for my life which is clearly ironic now. I refused to stay unemployed and doing what they clearly do which is the purpose of their lives. After 31 years they don’t have much good to show for themselves.

So after that time several years ago when I was threatened with violence I stopped contact with all four of them (including birth brother and his ‘lovely’ wife). I couldn’t do it anymore. To try to make things right with us – when I didn’t even cause them any harm – to have some kind of reciprocal caring/respectful relationship. With my chronic ill health I was always tired and in so much pain and unable to do what able bodied people take for granted (I was able bodied and know how that luxury feels). I needed help but got very little. It was humiliating, frustrating, depressing and frightening. I retreated inside myself, something that wasn’t alien to me since I was left so much to my own devices as a child – I was a very independent person, even in childhood.

I made my tiny world as beautiful as I could – inside the four walls of my small bedroom; the patio and garden where I tried growing plants; and the living room where my mum would sometimes be. I had my nightly communications with John on Skype and he visited when he could but that wasn’t often due to financial constraints. I had my creativity, dogs, plants and John. I had basic food, warmth, a roof over my head. I made my room magical with sliver flecked black net curtains that picked up the night lamps creating an illusion of stars. I collected inexpensive Art Deco pieces including a cabinet for my fabric supplies and a bureau for my crafts. For a few months I had one of the best friendships with a woman who was like a big sister to me. She was very ill with MS. And for a while I became friendly with some women who worked in one of the local grocery shops. I was alone, apart from my mum because John was still waiting for his Greek papers so he could be with me.

Long before Golden/Weasel threatened me with violence the Gnome, married to my brother (sorry no special name for him, but it’d be something like Bully/Coward if I gave him one) threatened to arson the house where I lived with my parents, to kill me.

That threat came late one autumnal night (2004) when I was walking alone along the dark unlit road. I was going to the local shop to buy something. I kept hearing giggling (they were high) and noticed people shapes darting in and out of the bushes. Then I heard the female say to the male, “Yeah I think it’s her (my name).” When they passed me in the dark she made that threat. My birth brother did nothing, said nothing. Where was my big protective brother from years past?

Some days later my dad discovered a little fire had been made in the log pile heaped up beside the brick wall of our house. She’d set it alight while we slept. I thank God that her sadism is blessed with equal stupidity because it was a poor excuse of a fire. Didn’t the Gnome ever learn how to make a proper fire during all those years she lived in the country?

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There’s a long history of me being scapegoated by my family of origin. Thing is when family does that to you strangers think they have a free pass to do that too.

At 17 a ‘friend of the family’ attempted to rape me and when I mentioned it to my parents I was told to apologise to him for being rude to his face.

When I was a teen I remember being excited having my two siblings – me, the sensible quiet one in the middle – thinking how great it was going to be when we got romantic partners and children. But I never had that. When I see it in real life, those warm sibling bonds or depicted on TV I feel sad. Some people have lives with much loss. I know my life is by no means the worst kind of life, but it’s really pretty shitty in some areas.

I was punched in the face today but it wasn’t by either sibling nor their cohabitees But my birth sister is surely to blame.

Golden and Weasel used to be quite friendly with their then neighbour – only because of the drugs supplied by Weasel no doubt – for years. Even after the runt moved out to live somewhere else they still remained in contact.

Golden has run me down to everyone: including friends we jointly had as kids – I’d often bring my 3-year younger sister along because I always looked out for her and we were close. Because of her chronic drug use and the poison she spewed most of them didn’t want to know me years later when I returned to the country. Golden and Weasel yapped about me in a derogatory way to this ex neighbour. The last year my dad was alive and he finally realised that the serious injury I had was really serious, no matter how much he got annoyed with me I still couldn’t cut the grass – he finally took on the Runt because Golden pushed it. I really wasn’t able to cut the grass anymore. It hurt to see someone else do it. Yet another thing of my former life I had to relinquish. Always the little things. They add up you know.

If all the things of your former life are taken away you have to find new things otherwise you start feeling like less-of-a-person. Chronic illness is dehumanising.

Runt has cut the grass of my mum’s properties for several years. He’s also broken a number of things for several years – usually my stuff, starting from the year my dad died.

It was him who attacked me today. Why? Well, apart from it taking a nasty individual to hit someone weaker than themselves, it’s because I became insistent that he should leave the wildflowers alone, something my mum told him to do long ago. But because she never complained about all the things he broke with his grass-strimmer – garden ornaments; plant pots; plants; my wicker chair, my mum’s new garden seat – he obviously thought he could do what he liked. He most times broke my stuff – I’m sure that’s no coincidence since he’s thick with Weasel and Golden.

When I worked for people I didn’t tell them how it was, I listened to what I was asked to do and (if it was reasonable/within job description) did it. After all I was providing a service of which I was paid for.

When he entered the back garden I said nicely, don’t cut the nettles. He didn’t. But as soon as my back was turned he did. I then said why did you just cut the nettles when I said not to? He said he didn’t. I took a step forward and pointed at the patch where the nettles were. I said you obviously did. He said you have enough nettles. I said you were told not to cut any nettles why are you doing it? He then argued with me, saying they were weeds. I said this isn’t YOUR garden darling. He walked off. 

Wildlife note: Nettles should be left to preserve the butterfly eggs until the end of August. Britain has seriously dwindling butterfly numbers. When they’re gone they’re really gone for good.

I was sorting out my plants in the sun-room that opens onto the patio and through the window I saw him drive his lawnmower over another bigger patch of nettles! I shouted to him, what are you doing? Don’t cut the nettles. He went off in the other direction, turning his back to me. I then, enraged, yelled I AM TALKING TO YOU!

A little later after he finished cutting both the front and back lawns I caught up with him in the drive. I asked him why he cut the nettles, he said I can’t hear you, I can’t hear you like a child in a playground. I’m thinking this is too weird, he’s being paid a service and he’s not doing what he’s been paid to do AND he’s behaving in a rude condescending way towards me. I thought, that definitely has to be partly my birth sister’s fault. She enjoys turning people against me because of her own self-dissatisfaction. He also has a problem with drugs and always wears black sunglasses so you can’t see his eyes. I don’t know what possessed my parents in employing him in the first place. Several times John offered to cut the grass – for free of course – when my dad had passed on but my mum always declined.

All the time he was mocking me he was pointing a finger in my face, continuing on with this children’s playground silliness. I don’t like people putting fingers in my face so I smacked his hand aside, telling him not to do that. But as soon as I smacked his hand away he punched me in the face with the other. Just like that. I was astounded. I yelled HE PUNCHED ME! When he punched my face I stepped backwards awkwardly and thereby further injured my damaged leg. I tried grabbing onto the lawnmower for purchase so I wouldn’t fall – cripple here. He yanked the lawnmower out of my grasp and swung back his arm to take another closed handed punch.

At this point John came rushing out. He’d caught some of the commotion from the front window and when I yelled HE PUNCHED ME! he sped out so fast to my rescue like I’ve never seen him do before. Runt told John to get me under control – wow, sexism isn’t dead! John replied GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! 

John helped me into the house and I called the police. I had a hard job trying to talk, I was thinking I don’t want to sleep tonight because I’ll dream of being punched in the face. I’ll dream about the horrific beating an ex boyfriend did to me from nineteen years ago. A beating in which I could have easily died from head trauma – let’s just say I coloured the apartment floors and walls, and those in the lobby of the building.

It’s 10:40 pm now and I still don’t want to sleep.

John is keeping me company. My mum has been kind – I wasn’t sure if she would blame me.

My thumb, the one I use for a walking stick is too sore to use. I cannot grasp a glass either nor grip a packet or bottle to open. I’ve also lost the use of the thigh muscle on my already injured leg to propel me out of a chair – I can no longer use my back. My face isn’t hurting that much.

I must say the two young policemen were very good. I haven’t always had positive interactions with the police but they were kind and professional. I had trouble speaking and it was all muddled up and I couldn’t breath properly and needed the asthma inhaler. I had to sit down and tried sipping water my mouth was so dry. As I write this I am still in shock.

I haven’t pressed charges, to go to court, but I think I will. I wanted to write this all out now before I sleep so I don’t forget the facts.

The police, with my consent, will phone him to tell him to keep away from me and the house, and I have an incident number for when I want to reach them.

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Crazy thing is I genuinely feel sorry for him! Then I think from the way he behaved today it wouldn’t surprise me if he beat up his girlfriend.

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I don’t think you can tell the pain from the bruises. Still, it could have been worse. It is the act of physical aggression against me that is messing with my head.

Tomorrow is another day. I hope it’s a better one. xo

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Copyright Faith McCord 2020

Story and artwork belongs to Faith McCord who is the author and artist holding the copyright. This is not a public domain work. Worldwide rights.

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Hello Ruby – fun computer coding for kids

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I’d like to share with you a 2nd educational site for children. I’m not affiliated with them or the other people from the Parents’ Britannica. If you think this may be of interest to you or someone you know please read on for more information or share.

All the best, Faith xo

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Hello Ruby

Hello Ruby is the world’s most whimsical way to learn about technology, computing and coding. We are all about curiosity, playfulness and logic.

We provide tools for kids, parents and educators to learn to understand programming in a fun and creative way. Our story started off with a book that is now published in over 22 languages, including Japanese, Korean, Dutch and even Finnish.

You can read more – https://www.helloruby.com/about

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Fun + FREE activities – https://www.helloruby.com/play

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Resources for teachers – https://www.helloruby.com/loveletters

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Note: I just want to say, please don’t feel overwhelmed by your child starting to learn computer coding – it is possible!

Long before the internet, somewhere bang in the ’80s I was a nine year old sitting in front of a BBC B computer. My dad was always buying the latest ‘toys’ that took his fancy and us kids – just my sister and me, my brother had no interest – were excited to have this mini amusement arcade at home. We played Bug Blaster, King Kong and other tantalising games.

When I got bored with the games I looked at the manual that came with it and keeping a note-book, learnt some basic coding. I learnt how to create coloured words against the black screen and sci-fi sounds. I remember using the GOTO command repeatedly. I used it in my games where pictures were non-existent and it’d read like some kind of game-novel where you pick the direction the adventurer was going in – and suffer the consequences of bad choices. No, I didn’t go on to become a professional programmer although my older cousin became a professor at computer science – he’d only visit us in order to use the computer for free and it surely helped him. The BBC computer was quite expensive and thus the cheaper competitors, Spectrum and Commodore 64 were more popular.

Eleven years ago I bought myself a computer domain but I knew nothing about website programming. I thought it can’t be that different from learning a language from another country. After all it isn’t Brain surgery! I’d already self-learnt German, a 2nd language, by living and working in Germany, but I’m not talented at learning languages even though I love words and some German words make beautiful sense!

Tasse = cup

Untertasse = under cup / saucer!

And the objects are sort of like people with different sexes –

Die Waschmaschine = the (female) washing machine

Der Trockner = the (male) dryer

I’d picture the above words with a man and woman couple washing up and drying the dishes at the sink after dinner.

I didn’t remember a lot of the definite articles though, I was a workaholic and for a few years also a step-mum so I didn’t have much time. My German friends/colleagues grew bored when I asked about grammatical things, I cannot blame them. The German definite article always changes depending on how the word is used (nominative, accusative, genitive, or dative case) – quite confusing to other people 😮

https://www.collinsdictionary.com/dictionary/german-english

https://grammar.collinsdictionary.com/german-easy-learning/the-cases

I had a German friend who spoke perfect French because her mother was French. She tried helping me with my German since we lived together (with some students in a flat share in a grotty part of Heidelberg). She’d say “that’s female because it’s beautiful!” And we’d laugh.

Anyway, back to the website programming from eleven years ago. I thought I CAN do this! John egged me on – you CAN do this! I don’t know why he had so much faith in me. I looked about on the net and found many free resources from lovely people who had taken the time, interest and financial cost to share what they knew – a big thank you programmers and developers! I copied and pasted and did it all by hand using a free editor – then I’d tidy it up later to make it look pretty. I’m a ‘detail person’.

Of course some strange things happened and there were mini frustrations, but I ploughed on – after all, no longer able to work due to my injury, I couldn’t afford a professional website programmer. You DO learn by your own mistakes, an important aspect of any learning. I wanted so much to put my art, crafts, and stories up. Working away at this became my job and took my mind off my unrelenting pain. And when it was done I was pleased with how it looked and worked.

It is do-able! Whether it’s websites or any other kind of computer programming, it CAN be learnt. And starting from young is the best time.

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Sommnia – by Faith copyright 2005

 

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