.! is she and where does she come from? Part 2

Part 2.

The stalker? The narcissist? The manipulator Why are they rejecting me all the time!

The drama fest has started. Someone’s mad at me for something. But what have I done, or supposed to have done this time? Sam thinks, as she receives a message on facebook. Opening it, she sighs as it’s yet another message about the police and stalking, or manipulating someone. How do I stalk people? She asks herself, getting panicky this time, because she knows that this person might just go ahead with their plan. I need to stop them, she thinks. Answering the message, she continues to get even more wound up and angry about things. But what have I done? Why are all these people saying all this crap? She thinks. She looks at the messages again, and still can’t figure out what it is, she’s supposed to have done wrong this time. They’re just nasty bullies, she thinks to herself. I’m not in the wrong. After texting the person back, with a load of verbal abuse, stating how they’re in the wrong and not her, she puts her phone down, then goes on her blog page on facebook. (This page in question has now been removed) She looks at the stream of nasty comments flowing in about her. I wish they’d just shut up, she thinks. Still, trying to process what this particular person has said, she sits down to read it again but all she can think about, is whether they’re going to the police or not. She sits there in tears, wondering this time, how can I save this friendship? But then she has to accept the reality. It’s a 3 year long friendship, that cannot be saved, because of your actions. but she can’t accept it. Feeling even more annoyed and angry, she goes to reply to the person again. By this time, they have blocked her. Deciding they will not get away with that, she finds them on twitter and messages them on there instead. Again, they block her on that. She continues to find them on both instergram and facebook, via another account she has. This usually by now, would be classed as harassment/stalking. But this sam, the volatile one, doesn’t want to accept she’s in the wrong. AFTER getting nowhere, she goes on her facebook blog page and replies to them on there instead. They’ll have to answer her on there, surely. Perhaps I can mend things. She thinks. Sadly, though, it isn’t meant to be. Again, Sam, Another friendship you’ve wrecked because of your actions. “Here’s the part I do understand. That is a part of the old Samantha I do kind of get. Yes, I tend to repeat the same mistakes, because of my brain injury. But the question I’ve always asked myself, particularly now, is: Where does this volatile and nasty person originate. Why is the switch in my brain flicked so fast I can’t stop it? Why do I just flip within seconds of being told something? Why does it take a week or more to tryand calm it down? What is this thing? I am now going to ask my neuro if they can refer me to a neuropsychologist, as I would like to try and understand it more. Perhaps then, I can stop the switch getting flicked before it starts and save many more friendships. ?

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Who is she and where did she come from?

Most people when they hear my name will either think of me as: Funny, compashonate, kind hearted, but then there are a majority that have seen the other sam. The sam who hurts people with her words on social media, then tries to save herself by lying to people. And when she doesn’t get her own way, blocks them, then unblocks them, and then, when they can’t accept her apology, she starts a huge drama fest and slags them off, because they wouldn’t accept it. But why does this sam materialise? Where does she come from? I genuinely have no idea, other than the fact she comes from my brain. Some random switch is flicked and out comes this volatile, crass, manipulative and quite frankly, piece of SH1T. She scares me. I’m scared of that person, which is in me. I know I can get rid of her, but I wish I could even stop her coming out of the cupboard whereever she is and keep her locked in there. For ever.

To put it this way. She’s in a detective drama, like frost. I wish frost, george and his team would find her and nail her. Or as morse would do, break her completely, before trying to work out what’s wrong, then try to get her help. Well, I’m getting help. I try time and time again, but what happens? The other sam emerges and I can’t stop her in time. I do not like her, as in time, she’ll get me in serious crap. Do I want that? Well, maybe she does, well, she can have it, but I don’t. I’ve hurt a lot of people in the last 4 years. If I can at least salvage 1 or 2 friendships from it, I will. But as for this other sam? Well, she’s nicked! Byebye Sam! And you can’t get yourself out of this by coming on my fb and causing drama. I’m done with it. No arguements, no screenshot sending. It’s over. Completely! That sam is gone! For ever!

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Surprising friendships and memories.

Friendships come up in surprising places. The friendship I had for 12 years, which started on a social network for the blind, as did another friendship with a friend I have known for 6 years, long may it continue. Now though, the memories of the friend I had for 12 years, still keep appearing. Every time I see a weather alert for his county in the US, I think to myself, what would he be doing? Getting excited over it? Ringing me and saying, sam, we have a thunderstorm warning: We’d both be waiting for the storm and the warnings to increase. Wondering what hail we’d hear or thunder that boomed so loudly it cracked like a pressure cooker. I might not be able to see the lightning, but I love the sound of it. The sound it cooking the air. Then in 2020, our friendship was haulted, by something I said to him. I still wonder though, How is he?

A year later and the loss of another friend, who I met online echoed the pain of losing my other friend for 12 years. We’d not known each other for very long, but again, I messed up causing the friendship to go downhill. I can make friends so easily, but it’s keeping them that I struggle with. Some thought I have autism, but I’ve not had the propper tests for it, but so far, nothing. A positive light though, is that I have now made friends, with someone I didn’t think I’d get on with. Which is very good. I would like to thank all the people who are helping me. The teams of professionals who are helping me with behaviour etc. The people who are helping me to grow and are still supporting me, even if at times, I do make mistakes. I think people with brain injuries are misunderstood. A lot.

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Therapy update.

I’m not sure if I have given you all a therapy update. Over the last yeareaI’ve had highs and lows. One of the scariest lows was a few weeks ago, when yet again, I was being trolled, not just on facebook, with trolls trying to pick on anything I’d done and twist it to suit their narative, but they started on wordpress as well. I tried to mask the upset and anguish I was feeling, but broke in a therapy session. I have always been good at making friends, but keeping them has always been an issue. I still wonder, why people bother sometimes. My therapy is making me more aware of my mistakes. I slip every now and then, but I’m trying desperately hard. My speech and language sessions went well as well. I’ve also submitted my last assignment of the year, so I’m praying that I have passed. I think mostly, what I get nervous of is the rejection I get when people say they either can’t be friends with me, or won’t. It hurts almost like grief. And, for a time, I struggle to accept it. I think, well, maybe if I email them, contact them in any way I can, to try and resolve things, but then I get acused of abuse, stalking, which I would never do intentionally. I hope everyone is well. Now to wait for a month, until I receive my module results.

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I’m in a better place

I first have to thank a few people, whose names I won’t mention, for beingthe for me over the last week or so, when I was not in a very good place mentally. I’d been getting trolled on my blog here and on fb. But out of it, 2 possible friendships came out of it, one of which seems so far, to have blossomed. I am very grateful to that person, for helping me like she is, as well as giving me more confidence with imoticons, describing photos where she can, and giving me tips of when to use said emojis and when not too. All in all, the last week has shown me that when I need support, I will get it. One just has to ask for it. It’s hard, yes, but it has to be done. Not just that, it will come from the most unexpected places. Thank you to everyone who has supported me and are continuing to do so. It means a lot, especially the friendship I’ve developed, and am still working towards. Today assignments must be started, and completed by sunday, and also, I’m helping my aunt set up her new chrome book. I love helping people. I think I was born to do that. I just can’t see them struggle. Where I can, I will help you. Where I can’t, I’ll endeavour to find someone who can help.

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,self Acceptance

Today brought yet another counselling session, with yet more to discuss. This time, I showed her the recent abusive messages I had received on my blog.

She was very surprised and asked me how did I feel about it. My reply was that they needed help. Help to understand why they feel that way. Why they said all those abusive things. I was upset about it, yes, hense the increase in meds. At the time, I thought, yes, That’s me, a horrible person. Perhaps they’re right. No-wonder some people don’t want to interact with me. I thought maybe, I’ll just leave here and now, then they’ll all be happy. I won’t be a berden on people anymore. Am I really a waste of resources on the NHS? All these thoughts going round my head when I received those messages, then the one about church, saying they were all sick of me? Well, some people aren’t, but are they though? Why haven’t those people came up to speak to me directly? I then thought to myself a little while later: Perhaps they need psychological help? Perhaps they need to grieve for something they’ve lost and not had the time? Perhaps they’re getting at me because they’ve nothing else to do? It’s all very sad. Why do I reply? Well, I want to know what they’re achieving. Why they are thinking that. What’s going through their minds when they are writing such brutal stuff. Have they ever stopped to think, oh, maybe that was a bit far? I’m not happy with her, but I’m not going to be that brutal.

I don’t feel malice towards you. I do not hate you even though you are writing such cruel things. I feel sorry for you all. Sorry that you are that upset to write such horrible things. Sorry that you are perhaps lonely and have nothing else to do. My counsellor then spoke of self acceptance. I am who I am and I have to be prowd of it. I have to accept, I am a nice persinn. I do have a heart. I care about others, just sometimes, in the wrong way slightly. Basically, I have to be proud of who I am and of what others perceive I am, especially if they are not writing abusive things. I must stop doubting myself all the time.

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Friendships can be mended. If one tries hard enough.

Over the last few days, I’ve been struggling with online abuse, trolling and other things. Thursday night was the ultimate low point. I’d just received an abusive message, which I won’t mention on here, in case you you may be reading and little eyes look over your showlder. Although, my feelings were very low, I managed, sort of, to distract myself. I felt very sad, almost suicidal, but didn’t do anything. I just thought, what’s the point. I can’t seem to do anything right, and get it wrong every time. THERE was, though, a happy ending to this story. Eventually, I was able to start rebuilding the friendship with someone I’d just got to know on fb, who is very nice, very helpful and always looking out for me, even if I am hard work at times. I also managed to cure my fear of the police too, by having a good chat with one of the officers. He put me at ease and understood my fears. So all in all, there’s a happy ending. Plus, I just bought myself a chrome-book. Although there is one threat that hangs over me, One of the abusive messages mentioned church and that said person was going to find me and have a chat. What to perceive this as, I don’t know, but we’ll see if they materialise, which is unlikely. If any of my blog posts trigger anyone, then I’m sorry about that. Feel free to scrole past, or read it when you’re more calmer. I’m glad now that we’re out of lockdown and a step closer, to being able to meet my friends in person in the UK. Instead of virtual hugs, I can give them real ones.

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I’m sorry. I can’t remember

Last night, I watched a drama that for me really hit home! It was about a woman who had been put into a psychiatric hospital, because of a crime she’d committed. On the outside, we were lead to believe, that the woman, Connie, had committed this awful attempted murder, by driving a car off a bridge, with children inside. Her Psychiatrist, Emma, tried to ask her what happened, but she had amnaesia. We were also lead to believe, that she was manipulating people to believe she could not remember what happened. But there was something in the way she spoke to the psychiatrist, that lead me to believe this wasn’t the case. As the drama went on, we were given little flashbacks. Her husband of 15 years, had an affair with her best friend, Ness. Whom she thought she could trust. Her mother had died and all this happened within days of each other. Eventually, we were shown the full story. It was that grief had taken over, and caused her to end up refusing to take her meds and go into a psychotic episode, which caused her to drive off the bridge. While at the same time, we saw Emma’s life play out. They both had children, and they both had close family members die. And both had husbands who had affairs. The poignant song that played through the drama, which they both sang at the end, was the end of the world. I am not sure who it’s by. But why does this drama hit home for me?

A few years ago, I was in a very bad place mentally. I didn’t know it however. I’d just been told I had an acquired brain injury, which we didn’t know about, until now. A brain haemorrhage a month after birth. Regular visitors to my blog will know about it, as I’ve mentioned it in numerous posts. I suppose at the time, I was angry that I wasn’t told about it, because I could have got more support perhaps. I was relieved because it explained most of my behaviours plus the fact I struggle to learn from my errors. The fact I need that little bit more guidance in social situations, than ordinary people do. I was also nervous though. I was scared of the violent rages and outbursts I’d had on and off since 2014. The fact I couldn’t remember what had happened during the rages. I could only remember little snaps of detail. Which flashed back in my mind for hours afterwards. The violence, The anger that turned into remorse and very bad suicidal lows afterwards. It all kept flashing back. Echoing in my head, like a loop. A record that wouldn’t stop. But when people asked me: What happened? Who said what? I could not remember. It was blank. A blur of intangible detail. Just, nothingness. Nothing made sense, other than the violence, and the depression afterwards, that kept flashing back like explosions in my head. And the fresh waves of tears that follows them. The tossing and turning and asthma attacks afterwards. But you’re probably asking, where does this lead? There weren’t just physical rages, but social media ones too. But I had no idea of the triggers. I had no idea what started them off. Again, I would end up being very nasty to people, but not even thinking about how much it would hurt them. Again, after them, people would ask: Why did you say this? I wouldn’t know. But now, going into my therapy, people are surfacing the past again, but the problems are that I have almost no recolection of all things I’d said. Of course, they will think I’m lying, but I genuinely don’t. I suppose that drama hit home, because I could imagine her pain, although it was very different to mine. I know the amnaesia of not remembering. Then the flashbacks and anguish when someone reminds you, that is so powerful, you don’t want to acknowlege it. But again, you can’t remember why you said what you did. I was in tears last night. I ask my friends, why was I crying? They said: That’s empathy. But why do I feel it like that? And why is it only sometimes, that I can feel it? And why is it so powerful that it makes me cry? That it brings flashbacks of my years of being in such a bad place back? I don’t know. I have tried to convey what I want to ask my counsellor and neurologist, but it comes out in the wrong way. yet for some reason, I have developed a talent I never had at school, writing. I could not write in detail at school. Could not make the pen to paper connection. Yet now, I’m managing? I never thought I’d develop that. But for some strange reason, this blog is helping me to write my thoughts. A bit like my own little therapy session I suppose. Even while sat here, I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes. I suppose they have to come out. I can’t even talk like I am writing in my therapy sessions. It never comes out. Perhaps I should show her my blog. It does, I think, reflect the mood changes in me over the years. But I’m very greatful to people for reading. Feel free to share my posts. Again, thank you for reading.

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What does this mean?

I refer to a previous post, about a friendship that was lost after 12 years. But in my heart, he’s never gone. I think of him every day. The dogs barking, the weather alerts on his radio. Hear his warm, calm voice which was always bright and breezy of a morning. Of a morning his time. Of the only braille letter he sent me, back in 2017 I think it was. The words it said that made me cry. I always think of him and what he may be doing right now. Will he be stroking Nala? Will he be stroking Jasper, playing with Sasha? Will he be excited about the next tornado drill? The next weather radio alerts? The next IOS software update coming out? Or, the latest news article he can find on US politics? What will he be doing? The recordings I have give me pleasure, but sadness. Sadness that he is not here chatting to me, making more memories. The summer days we’d spend together on facetime, chatting in both our gardens, him at night my time, afternoon his time. I have recordings of the christmases we spent together on facetime, while he watched his little cousin open her presents with great joy. The times we’d both use our imajination, and imagine what could perhaps happen in the future politically. There were many good days. Weather related, the time he was sat on the porch in Florida, and we both heard a spectacular strike of lightning as it struck the water of the creek across from him. Yes, I still get his weather alerts. I know every storm alert and every watch, every advisory. But then I think, where is he now? What is he doing? With whom? Will I ever hear his voice? I have many good friends, yes, but I still do think of this friend. I’ve never disliked you. Never has a day gone bye, where I haven’t wondered how your year has been. Were you safe? Have you had the covid vaccine? Yes, I have always thought of you. To this day, I can’t bare to play the treasured recordings I have of us, as the sadness is still there. No, you haven’t passed on, But in my head, the grief of losing our friendship even though it be perhaps temporary, still remains. I thought of you like a brother. The brother I never had. The brother who would always be there, to look up too. Who would help me through the hard times, like-wise I would you. So, where ever you are, even though we may not be in contact, yet, I hope someone reads this open blog to you. I’ve chosen to make it open, as my feelings and my journey, through therapy, I will share with everyone. I want people to follow it with me, it may help them. And now, I come onto another topic.

Dreams. The other night, to set the scene of this dream, it’s day time. A summers day. I’m in my room, looking at things, when my phone goes off. A text, but who’s it from? My curiosity getting the better of me, I look at my phone. It says the name of someone I’d been hoping to hear from. The message: Hi Sam. How are you doing? That’s all it said. Should I reply? I open the message and reply. Shortly, my phone rings. A whatsapp call? From my friend Liz and… So who’s with her? Answering the phone, I hear her voice, then a warm, thick American accent. A voice I’ve not heard for ages. Tears fill my eyes as they speak. Tears of happiness. Liz asks me, what’s wrong sam? But I can’t reply. I just sit there, wondering why all this time? And what did he need, or want? As I’d said I would be there for anything he needed, and as a friend. I forgave you for the angry words. I’m not bitter towards you. I hope eventually, this dream may, perhaps, come true. But what does it mean? Why am I suddenly dreaming of this moment? Perhaps, God is trying to tell me, that if I have just a little more patients, it may happen? The song, By Nicolback asks: If today was your last day, would you forgive your enermies? If today was your last day, would you leave all pictures in the past, donate every dime you had? Would you call on friends you’ve never seen? My answer: If today was my last day? Yes, yes to all the above questions. If Covid has taught us one thing? It’s forgiveness. Life is too short. It’s time to forgive the people you’ve had a row with. Move on, perhaps, even, build a friendship. You may just get a surprise. But to end this post: My friend, you know who you are. My thoughts have always never been far away from wondering how you are. What you are doing. Take care. Stay safe. From your friend, for ever and always.

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It’s so lovely to hear their joy.

Morning. Brain injury group today. On zoom. Hoping everyone is okay. I just thought at some point, I would write about how I helped some people with autism a few years ago. I was doing some kind of work experience, if one could call it that, at a farm for people who had been excluded from school etc. It was coming up to Christmas and we were making Christmas cards. One of the young people who had autism, was getting quite frustrated about the fact the player wasn’t working, so he couldn’t play his favourite Christmas music. I was there and asked him: Shall I have a look? He at first declined, but then after a moment’s thought, let me go up and have a look. I said, why don’t you tell me what the buttons are and I can see if I can get it to play. Eventually, we discovered it wasn’t going to work, which heightened his frustrations. I asked him, why don’t I fetch the support worker and ask her to get the bigger one from the kitchen? Then you can play it on that one, plus it’ll sound better. That made him very happy, which was lovely to hear. A few hours later, I got shouted at for trying to help him. I still to this day have no idea why when I was trying to help him. After that, we were outside one day in summer and we were stroking the guinneapigs. Another person with autism, who was non-verbal due to cerrebral palsey, was sitting on the bench, drinking his can of pop. I asked him did he want to stroke the guinneapigs, as he was sitting alone, with nothing to do and no one was interacting with him. He said yes. Eventually he came up to me, where I had the guinneapig on a towel on my knee. I asked him did he want to have a go at brushing the guinneapig. I observed that he was rather heavy handed and not very rhythmic when brushing them. I stopped him and said to him, right, Shall I show you how to do it? Put your hand ontop of mine and then we’ll do it together. See? You have to be gentle. There you go, they like that. Now you try. He’d never been allowed to do something like that on his own before, and I gave him the chance. Someone came up and said his name, then asked him what he was doing. I explained he was having a go at brushing the guinneapig. Eventually, he was doing it alone, without my prompting. He was so happy I could hear the joy in his voice. Everyone started to come up to us. I said to him, shall we show them what you can do? Go on then. Smiling, I sat there, listening to his joy at the fact he was brushing the guinneapig independently without any help. He even had the guinneapig nearer to him. You guessed it, I got shouted at for that one too. I just want to work with people who have brain injury, autism or other special needs. To encourage them, to build their confidence, to help them to be seen properly for who they are, not underestimated or misunderstood. It was such a joy to hear his joy. And people think I belittle them? I don’t understand how. I myself do not like being patronised, so I treat them the same way, as equal people, as if I was talking to someone without challenges. If they need it explaining, I do so in a way they can cognitively process it. I really enjoy helping people like that. A lot.

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