This is a story about being in a trance...

Choosing your battles is important. You can't fight when you're outnumbered, weakened or compromised in some way. I'm an expert in keeping my powder dry, patiently waiting out my opponent.

I'm not out for revenge. Revenge is a dish that is best never to be served. However, a certain amount of pressure venting still has to happen. If that can be done in a non-violent, non-destructive way, then that's much better.

Lots of people have had a very hard life. Some people have had truly appalling things happen to them. It's not a competition though. It's not only those who are the most damaged who have a right to express their feelings. There isn't a minimum level of mistreatment that you have to receive before you're entitled to be upset, hurt.

If you don't think that I think about other people's suffering, and put my own feelings into some sort of context, you're completely wrong. I actually decided not to get professional help when I went somewhere and heard a few other people's stories. I decided that I wasn't worthy. I decided that because their stories were so awful, I would leave my own untold. That was a mistake.

There should not be a finite amount of compassion in the world. There is no shortage of energy being ploughed into agression, anger, violence. Why can't that energy be channelled into healing broken hearts? Why can't we love a little more, rather than spit and rage and hate?

Does this all sound a bit hippy? Well, why are you being critical? What's fundamentally wrong with what I'm saying? Why don't you park your criticism, and instead think in terms of "yes, and" rather than "no, but". Why don't you try and be constructive rather than destructive?

It's hard though, to let go of prejudice, fear and the baggage that you carry around. You're not very self aware. You've never taken a long hard look at yourself, and the damage that you're doing to your loved ones by beating them down. You can't even see how much you are projecting your own sense of failure onto your family and friends.

Do you remember the crabs in the bucket? Yes, the crabs in the bucket can't escape, because they always pull one another back down into the bucket, whenever one is about to escape. Mutually assured destruction.

People don't like to see their peers being successful. It's a jungle out there and we are genetically programmed to fight with each other, because the assumption is that the world's resources are finite. If you can murder a few competitors, then there is more for you. Co-operation is not part of the selfish gene.

But we have entered an era of technology. With machines and industrialisation, and modern farming techniques, we now have surpluses of food, energy, goods & other commodities. There is no need to fight with each other like cavemen any more. We should be living in an age of enlightenment.

My parents represent everything that's wrong with the world. They are bigots and racists. They are homophobic and xenophobic. They are selfish and stupid. They are critics, without the intelligence to turn the spotlight on themselves. They can't see their own hypocrisy. They think they have arrived in some sort of exclusive club, where they can do whatever they want. It's no co-incidence that they only live a few miles away from David Cameron, and Conservative Party safe seats.

If you live in London, you live with drug addicts, pickpockets, religious extremists, political activists, homeless people, alcoholics, gangs with knives, gangs with guns, prostitutes and every other member of a society that understands self preservation. One wrong step off the pavement, and you'll be flattened by a double-decker bus. We are often reminded by London of the constant threat of death.

London's a big mixing pot. I used to live in a council flat in the Angel Islington. Our flats looked out over some of the most expensive town houses in the world. Millionaires and billionaires rubbing shoulders with the proletariat. Looking out of their mansions at grubby social housing, while we looked in on their pristine little lives, through their big windows.

And do you know what we saw? They eat the same food. They sleep like us. They argue like us. They fuck like us. They look the same as us under their expensive clothes. They bleed the same colour as us. They bruise like us. They hurt like us. The rich cry too.

If you try and insulate yourself from reality, you become dehumanised. How is it that wealthy people are so well practiced at ignoring people who are drawing attention to themselves? You can't help every beggar, every homeless person, but equally how can you just brush off somebody who is in obvious distress? How can you not hear their story? How can you keep your blinkers on?

If everybody just helped one other person, that would halve the amount of suffering in the world. That's all it takes. Just take one person under your wing, who would have otherwise been ignored. If you have more than you need, you have an obligation to spread the wealth, even if you feel like being greedy, selfish.

Yes, it's animal nature to be selfish. It's animal nature to hoard your seeds. Are you a squirrel? Are you nuts?

Yes, it's animal nature to be selfish. It's animal nature to fight like stags, to lock your antlers. Do you have horns on your head when you're horny? Are you the devil?

Yes, it's animal nature to be selfish. It's animal nature to squeal with delight when the food trough is filled. Do you have a pigs nose? Are you a porky pig?

The above picture is of a 3D-printed gun. That's a terrible use case for technology. Why are our brightest minds building banks and bombs? You can't eat gold and bombs kill people. Those things should be worthless, in an enlightened civilisation.

You know the technology that's helped me most in my life? Chemistry. Better living through chemistry. I was able to throw of the shackles of low self esteem and claim my adult identity with a few doses of 3,4-methylenedioxymethamphetamine. Yes, it had the therapeutic value of an entire adult life spent on the psychoanalyst's couch. It allowed me to escape the clutches of my abusive drug addicted parents.

It sounds weird doesn't it, using a drug to escape a life of misery and a family home that was a den of drug addiction? However, the experience was disruptive in my life. It allowed me the time and the space to have some freedom from the oppression of my horrible childhood. I forgave myself for not being good enough for my parents.

The experience launched me and my career into the stratosphere. I had security and happiness for the first time in my life. I had a capability for love that my parents never had. Love conquers all. A kindness offensive is a wonderful thing.

You can learn the techniques of love, and master them without chemical assistance. You can learn to have an open heart. You can learn to trust. You can learn to take risks. You can learn to give and suspend your demand to get. You can learn to do random acts of kindness. You can learn to feel reward from doing good deeds in the world.

Normally oxytocin is the reason why you learn to hug your children, rather than drowning them for giving you a headache with their crying. However, I imagine that if you're fucked up on drugs, it's hard for your body to notice the subtle hormones that are being released. It's really hard to be a loving parent if you're fucked up on drugs.

You should probably date and marry a raver. You should probably have kids with an ex-clubber. If you meet somebody who used to take Ecstasy when they were a kid, then hang onto them... they're a keeper. If your heart has been broken in the past, they'll hug you so hard they'll stick your broken pieces back together.

I can't recommend that you take MDMA. For one thing, it's a Class "A" substance. I also think it's addictive, on account of it sharing a lot of its molecular structure with Crystal Meth. It's also as dangerous as horse riding, or maybe slightly less... but horse riding is quite dangerous. I like extreme sports, but horse riding looks a bit too risky, from the statistics.

For me, my life had reached a point where I was suicidal, so it was a risk I was prepared to take. My parents had also taught me that it was OK to take risks with my life, and that drug taking was somehow a 'victimless' crime, even though I could see a lot of bad effects on health, wealth and our family life.

I've never regretted taking a risk, even when things have backfired. You always learn something, and you often learn most from your mistakes. One mistake cost me the best part of 4 years in the wilderness, but that was because it was compounded by ignorant and abusive c**ts who trapped me in a dead end. More to follow on that soon.

People can be very misguided. They believe ignorant nonsense and end up causing damage. If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem. Butt out unless you know what you're talking about. You will have to do 10,000 hours of anything before you become an expert. I found this note in a package that was delivered in my name. It contained something disruptive. Whoever intercepted it didn't know what they were looking at. They didn't know what they were talking about.

I got that note on the same day as Camden Council decided to make me homeless. I knew I needed help. One help would have been good, let alone a thousand. However, people were actually actively working against me. Ignorance is rife.

When the system fails you, you have to take matters into your own hands. I had very little faith in Camden Council, and I had a plan "B". It was very lucky that I had plan "B" because Camden Council was prepared to let me die. They didn't think my life was worth saving.

I can see why people might be a little bit selfish, when I was let down so badly by the 'safety net' that's supposed to be there for people who get sick. People in Camden Council always assumed that friends and family would help me out. Some friends did help, but they were talked into undermining that help by my destructive parents.

If you're spying on me, and undermining my patient confidentiality by talking to my doctors and other healthcare professionals, you are not acting in my interests. You are undermining trust and respect. You might think you're trying to help, but you're not helping me... you're treating me like a sick person. That's not your job, unless you're a nurse or a doctor or somebody who is professionally engaged to help me. Please just be my friend.

My Mum recently said to me "welcome back". That disgusts me. I really don't feel like talking to her any more. I'm not back. I never went anywhere. Just treat people right, and you'll see how they'll respond. Treat people well... that will help them. If you treat people with respect and dignity, that's the minimum that they deserve.

I have explicitly stated that I didn't want my parents anywhere near my doctors and treatment, after a horrendous experience with my dad and my wife compromising my GP conspiring to remove me from my own home so that my ex could go on dating websites and have no-strings sex. I paid a high price for my Dad's drug addiction and my ex's sex addiction. I've got my problems, but I need love and support like anybody else.

I've been trying to get back to London and recover from the drawn-out ordeal for about 4 years. For 2 years I was trying to forgive & forget, but while I forgave my ex's backstabbing, she never said sorry for abusing me. She's not sorry, and it hurts, but it's time to move on. I'm no angel, but I did give her a nice life and plenty of second chances to be loving and caring.

It's not a difficult recipe for life: be nice.

If you can't be nice, get the fuck out of my life. Admit to the world that you're a horrible person out for yourself, and go and find yourself a dark little hole to curl up and die in.

This is my recipe for living: take some risks. Be the first person to say how you feel. Give out complements. Smile at people. Hug people. Dish out some love. Share.

If the world's not interested in that, then I'm not sure what I'm living for.

These are all substitute medications that you can be legally prescribed. I have never been prescribed any of these. I don't take any substitute medication. I don't take any drugs, medication or drink alcohol (July 2014)

Tags: #addiction #drugs #london #notanonymous #divorce

This is a story about life support...

I was in a metaphorical coma for 4 years. I was virtually on life support for the first 2 years, and then I woke up to find my wife and parents trying to turn off the 'machines' that were keeping me alive. Shame on them. I gave up on life and spent the next 2 years at death's door, in and out of hospital.

The first 2 years, there was nothing anybody could do. Having suffered 6 years at the hands of somebody so unfaithful, cruel and abusive, my body & mind finally gave out on me. I cracked, collapsed, capitulated. The crash was inevitable. You just can't abuse somebody for so long and expect them to just suck it up.

Two years might sound like a long amount of time to 'care' for somebody, but if all you're doing is going on dating websites and taking holidays using my money then it's not all bad. I don't even care about the money. I'm open hearted. I pay it forwards. If you take and you don't give back, then I know that you pay a debt of guilt. I know that if you have a moral bone in your body, you know what the true balance of karma is.

Actually, not a lot of caring went on. During my first hospital admission, my ex-wife didn't even ask about visiting hours, the phone number to contact me or bother making any plans to come visit. The moment I was admitted to hospital, she jumped right on those websites and started arranging to meet people. What a c**t.

Oh, sorry... I'm not supposed to be bitter about stuff. Yes, I'm supposed to be the punchbag. I'm not supposed to have feelings. I'm supposed to be a pincushion. If you prick me, I'm not supposed to bleed. I'm supposed to be inhuman. But insofar as I can tell, I'm very much human. Sorry about that.

I suppose she's human too, although it's hard to imagine when she treated me so inhumanely. I suppose she was probably a sex addict or something. Definitely some psychological problems, but who am I to judge? I'm just the guy who was nearly killed by her narcissism and selfishness.

I wonder how you can move on like that. Destroying somebody, putting them in hospital, and then just immediately thinking about the next victim. I wonder what kind of callousness, lack of empathy, psychopathy, allows you to expend a human life and move on as if it was nothing.

I suppose if you've decided that you want another boyfriend or husband because you don't like the one you've got, the best thing to do is probably abuse them until they kill themself. It's a lot quicker and easier than just breaking up with them. I guess she had moved on, which is why she thought it was OK to go on dating websites while I was fighting for my life.

What difference does having a supportive partner make anyway? What difference does having supportive parents make? It can't be very much. The parents should just support the partner who's going to be bereaved and help to finish off the sick and weakened person. Yup the sick person is a lost cause, so it's a good idea to hurry death along a bit.

My parents initially refused to help at all. They refused to help either of us. Then they started abusing me too, but I can see that it was probably an ill-advised attempt at 'tough love'. Well guess what? I'd had my fill of tough love having my face smashed in by my partner.

Then my parents did what she wanted, which was to get me out of the way so she could go on dating websites as if she was single and had managed to buy a house on her pathetic salary. Yes, she quite liked the house that I paid for. She did let me have the deposit back when we divorced, but only because my solicitor fought for it. I just wanted my life. I told her to take as much as she wanted, and horrifyingly she wanted it all, including my life!

Perhaps this horrible treatment had something to do with prolonging the first terrible 2 years. I was a bit like a car running on 3 cylinders, spluttering and coughing, kangarooing down the road. There were opportunities for recovery. There were periods of improvement. However, the toxic atmosphere still persisted. You just can't recover when your partner wants you dead and your parents are co-operating with them.

I'm pretty canny. I know how to choose my battles wisely. I knew that it would drive me insane if I tried to battle the abusive shits head-on. You just can't win a battle where you're outnumbered and weakened. If you want to live, you need to curl up in a ball and protect your vital organs, and wait for the blows to stop being rained down on your head. You need to play dead.

So my ex-wife took her loot and ran for the hills, leaving me bruised and bloody in the gutter. I don't begrudge her taking her share. She paid into our joint finances, and took far more than that, but it's not her fault that she's so sick that she can't do the basic maths. She felt entitled, to damages perhaps? But it was me who was damaged. It was me who was left fighting for my life. It was me who was nearly dead.

I just wanted her out of my life after she said she'd rather I was dead and marked my suicide note in red pen, with loads of abuse all over it (she's a teacher, you see... so that's OK, right?). She was homocidal. I'm not saying she's a murderer (that I know about) but it's pretty worrying behaviour. Certainly a breach of the "in sickness and in health" marriage vows we made to each other. What a c**t.

Oh sorry, almost a bit of bitterness there. Except it's passing now. Now that I know that I'm free, and I'm alive, and I'm somewhat recovered from where I was 2 years ago, when we finally separated. It was a very close call. Apparently probate is a lot easier than divorce. That was her preference anyway, to be widowed rather than divorced. That's what she said to me. What a c... oh, hang on, I'm now starting to feel pity for her, rather than bitterness.

Yes, I'm wondering what could drive a person to have such careless disregard for a human life. It's rather worrying. She must have had some pretty horrible stuff happen to her as a kid. Yes, I really pity her. What a sad messed up person. What a shame. She is very smart and I found her very attractive, although a lot of people wouldn't fancy her. I was totally in love with her, even though she was very hard to love.

I really hope she learnt some stuff from our relationship. I know that I did. When a recent ex-girlfriend started throwing abuse and plates and knives at my head, I dumped her immediately. She was a feisty Italian lovable little thing, but there's no future for me with somebody who thinks that kind of abuse is acceptable. When another girlfriend started using abusive language towards me, I told her I didn't like it and asked her politely to stop, and she did. That seems more normal to me, more healthy.

I think alcohol and drugs can be dangerously disinhibiting. I don't think my Italian ex was drunk at the time but she was probably high on drugs or on a comedown. I have no idea. It's just an excuse anyway. Those things are not changing your character, they are just revealing what lurks beneath the surface. They are showing you what that person is really like, under the surface.

When you get drunk or you get high, you are testing yourself to the limits. You are effectively putting yourself into an extreme situation that would never occur in normal life, except during exceptional circumstances. You are switching the mode in your brain to a state that it would normally only enter because of a response to something very unusual.

By taking drink or drugs, you are going to trigger fight or flight responses in yourself. When I got very upset with my ex-wife, I used to get in a taxi, or drive to an airport. I'm a lover not a fighter, so it's the flight response, not the fight response, that gets triggered in me. I left our joint birthday party in 2006 because she was having a tantrum and saying she was having a horrible time.

I called the cab for both of us, but she was having such a horrible time that she wanted to stay, so that everybody could see how horrible it was for her, having a massive party. What was horrible for me was seeing the girl I loved very upset. I was trying to take her away from a situation that she was telling me was horrible for her.

Another time, she was having such a horrible time, sitting on a sofa with my friends, with me excluded for some reason. It was so horrible for her, having all these friends around her, caring about her. It must be so horrible to be loved by somebody who cares and wants to make you happy and protect you from horrible things. That must be horrible. I drove to Gatwick Airport, because I didn't know what to do. The flight response.

Yes, I fly, I don't fight. I can fight, but I won't. I will take flight. Fighting doesn't achieve anything. Flying gets you out of the situation of conflict and stops anybody from getting injured. It's the more evolved response to a stressful situation.

I flew us around the world many times. That was my solution. I paid for tens of thousands of pounds worth of flights, to keep her happy, to keep us happy. She was very hard work, and had very expensive tastes, but she was worth it and I don't regret it. I loved her to bits.

It kind of works, having 5 star holidays all over the globe. I remember her having an absolute meltdown every time something would go wrong with our travel arrangements, and I would just have to quietly move her a safe distance away, and then go and use a charm offensive to repair the damage caused by her sour face and tantrum, before negotiating what she wanted.

Holidays were very stressful. She wanted a camper van when we went to Hawaii. The poor people who ran the camper van company just wanted to have a relaxed Christmas break, and when their camper van broke down, there wasn't a mechanic on the island of Oahu who fancied fixing it during the holiday season. I had to bust my balls, and theirs, just to keep her from throwing her toys out of the pram. It was hard work.

That's just one example. Every holiday, she was very demanding, and I was her personal tourguide, smoothing things over with the locals. Yes, she was very organised, officious, but that's not the way the world works. Things go wrong, and things don't run like clockwork. I remember getting wound up when taxi drivers would stop in the middle of the road and talk to each other in remote windswept locations that hardly any Europeans ever visit, but then I realised that it's important to embrace local culture. It's important to go with the flow. I learnt some patience, some humility.

Yes, you can go to a place and splurge your cash and expect to be chauffeur driven around by a man-servant. However, when I asked her, she said she wanted the authentic experience. As her personal tour guide, I delivered what my client asked for, always. I think she really liked the local bus we caught in Egypt, packed full of farmyard animals and cargo, with the passengers who just wanted to discuss English Premier League football with us.

Travelling is hard work, and it's stressful, when you're the one who has to figure stuff out on the ground and actually deal with the language and cultural barriers. Getting stroppy and telling people that you're disappointed and "it's not good enough" really doesn't get you anywhere. Tact and diplomacy are the order of the day.

I hope my exes enjoyed their holidays. I really poured my heart & soul into making sure they had a lovely lovely time.

13,796ft high, at the summit of Mauna Kea. Trip of a lifetime. Was she grateful? The fact she wanted me dead would suggest not (December 2012)

Tags: #divorce #suicide #depression #mentalhealth #bipolar #frankie

This is a story about the shoe being on the other foot...

There's a Madonna song called "What it Feels Like for a Girl" which talks about men secretly wondering what it's like, being a girl. Here are my raw, candid, thoughts and experiences.

Men can be domestic abuse victims too. I've had to go to work with black eyes and a broken nose and make up some story to try and cover up for my partner's aggression and violence. I've had to lie to friends and family members about my battered & bruised face.

You know that as a man you can't hit back, because then you're the bad guy. You're damned if you do and damned if you don't. You can't turn the other cheek forever though.

When it comes to dating, men have got it fairly hard. I'd much rather that loads of women just chatted me up... gave me complements and massaged my ego, and then I just picked the best of the bunch. Yes, that'd definitely be better than being one of the horde of horny guys fighting over the passive females.

Yes, being passive is nice. I've been to gay clubs, and it's super nice being eyed up and having people ask you for you phone number. It's nice to feel wanted. It's nice to know where you stand. It's nice to have choice, to have options and just pick the person who you're most attracted to. Sadly, I'm not attracted to men.

Being objectified, mentally undressed, groped and otherwise felt up, ass slapping and pinching... I'm sure that can be draining. I'm sure it's often unwelcome. I'm sure it's pretty horrible, as a girl just trying to travel on public transport. However, I'll admit that personally, when those things have happened to me, I've enjoyed it to some extent. I guess that could be novelty though.

I did have one guy being really forceful with me, right in front of his boyfriend. It did become annoying after a while. I also felt sorry for his boyfriend. Mostly, it made me feel pressured into doing something I didn't want to do (which I didn't do... that time) but it still inflated my fragile ego a bit. There is security, self-confidence, to be found in feeling sexually attractive.

Girls are expected to maintain an immaculate home, be a supernanny to the children, masterchef in the kitchen, powerdressing businesswoman and a whore in the bedroom. Sure there used to be a high expectation placed on women. However, men are modernising too. If you picked a knuckle-dragging caveman, more fool you: you can't really complain, can you?

Actually, I'm extremely neat and tidy and clean. I can cook a 7 course dinner and wash up as I go along. I can't imagine doing it while trying to round up children, of course, but I've always seen child rearing as a teamwork exercise. I've certainly always dreamt of working part-time when I have kids, so I can play an active role in their upbringing.

When it comes to bedroom antics, I've written before about my dislike of blow jobs. One of the big reasons is that it's hardly mutual gratification. Sure, women can derive satisfaction from knowing that they have pleased their partner, but it's still hardly the most pleasant of acts, is it? With a bit of practice, sex can be a thoroughly satisfying affair for both guy & girl.

I'm sure there are still neandertal men out there who haven't taken the time to practice their skills. They can't be bothered to satisfy their partner, because frankly, they're getting what they want. Again, it's down to choice: why did you pick such a selfish partner who doesn't get you off?

I'm a thoroughly modern man. In touch with my feelings and able to express myself and generally communicate very effectively. I don't really believe in traditional gender roles, and I have strong views about men's responsibility for contraception, household chores and childcare. However, that's not really gotten me anywhere so far.

I guess the battle of the sexes still rages, and the nice guys still finish last. Women believe that equal rights will be their salvation, but they still pick totally chauvinistic pigs as partners. They are still choosing DNA material donors based on animal instincts, despite the argument that women are equal.

Sadly, equality will never be achieved when we are breeding lazy, selfish, ignorant and sexist boys. You picked the man, and I'll show you the boy.

So, it's kind of up to you, ladies. Stop dating d1ckheads. Stop rewarding selfish chauvinists with the sex and easy life that they don't deserve, and then maybe we'll have a better world.

The alternative, which is to date kind and caring soft modern men, but then beat them up and abuse them... that's not really working.

As a metrosexual man, life was very hard at school. It's not that I wasn't fancied at school, but it would have been popularity suicide for a girl to date an outcast. The occasional tryst with a girl from another school, was all I had to keep me going through those years of puberty and early teens, along with the occasional secret note that was given to me saying "would you like to date... when we leave school?".

So, I skipped any childhood sweethearts. Getting girlfriends in later life when you're a bit of a late starter is very strange. I was cynical and mature enough not to declare undying love for anybody. I held off using the "L" word until the age of about 26. That's not to say that I didn't have crazy feelings for any girls though. I was just aware that it was probably lust and loneliness conspiring against me.

When things start getting serious, that's when you get seriously screwed. Because I always open my heart, take the chance... I laid myself wide open to be destroyed by a spiteful ex. I've actually managed to come out of it without being horribly twisted. I still insist on wearing my heart on my sleeve and acting with some common decency, and taking some risks.

So, on International Men's Day, I urge guys to remain honest & open, and keep on the trajectory of modernising themselves. I know that many women view men who talk about their feelings as "soft mummies boys" and potentially not good partner material. Well, if you don't like equality then that view is probably correct.

Personally, I'm still dreaming of being a house husband some of the time. I'd like to discuss my feelings openly and without fear of ridicule, with my partner. Partnership is about equality, mutual respect. That's what I want to see on this day, and every day going forward.

That is all.

I got custody of Frankie the cat, but my ex thought she should have it all, even though he was the reason why I kept myself alive when I was starving myself to death (May 2008)

Tags: #divorce #frankie

This is a story about manipulation...

My ex told her side of the story so much that our friends got sick of it. She then moved onto my parents. Sadly, my father was taken in by it.

Damsel in distress? I really think not. She spent a huge amount of time cultivating self-pity and a warped story that attempted to completely exonerate herself of any responsibility for our destructive relationship. I went quiet. I was slowly dying. I was self-harming and suicidal. Meanwhile, she vociferously attempted to turn friends and family against me. It didn't really work, as most people are mature enough to listen to both sides of the story before judging.

I certainly admit to my equal responsibility in an unhealthy co-dependent relationship based on hate sex. But I was the 'weaker' in this relationship, and I was beaten into submission. I think my friend Wiktor accurately summed up our marriage with the following image.

I should have walked away. I tried to walk away very early in our relationship, when it became clear to me that she wasn't ready for a committed relationship. I tried breaking it off loads of occasions, but she kept begging forgiveness for things like cheating, and I kept forgiving her. Fundamentally, I loved her and she didn't seem to love me.

That was a life lesson I couldn't really seem to learn, because she isolated me from my friends, from the activities that I loved and even from my GP and my family. The conflict of interest was appalling. I literally ended up with almost nobody fighting my corner. She cultivated such a convincing 'woe is me' story of her own suffering.

I was suffering in silence.

However, I'm a very forgiving person. She vindictively destroyed me, and I forgive her.

I'm struggling to forgive my parents. They should remember that it was me who eventually reached out to both sets of parents and got them to negotiate my release from captivity, and allow my life to be spared. I found her parents to be extremely supportive, understanding and kind. It's really upsetting how my own were so twisted by her manipulative and one-sided bullsh1t.

I also have a problem with the way that my GP acted. She took my wife on as a patient - which I believe was an unprofessional conflict of interest - and started to see my ex on a very regular basis, and began to become compromised, sympathetic to the patient who she saw more and more of. I honestly believe that my GP was convinced by my ex to act in a manner that was by no means in my best interests.

I have evidence for this. When it became clear that I had few human allies, I turned to technology. I installed a keylogger on my spare laptop, which I left in my house. When my ex eventually subdued me into being taken away by my gullible and manipulated idiot father, I was able to see what was typed on the keyboard of that laptop.

My horrible ex immediately joined a dating website and started messaging men. Supposedly she justified conspiring with my father and GP for my safety, health and wellbeing. In actual fact she showed her true colours straight away. The front door had barely closed behind me.

This 'butter wouldn't melt in my mouth' fake image of a person had her mask torn down. At first, I didn't even resort to looking at the keyboard transcripts. I just had great intuition that something was wrong. Naturally she played the "he's just paranoid... mentally ill" card. She bare-faced lied to the Crisis Teams in Bournemouth and Oxford when confronted by them about my concerns that she was not loving, supportive and faithful.

When I showed her the evidence, she backtracked with remarkable speed and started acting with some human decency. Foolishly, I forgave quickly. I married her. In sickness and in health and all that. I bought in to all that love and marriage vows crap. Strangely, I still do.

I don't think the end justifies the means. I wish I hadn't had to resort to snooping on the use of my own laptop (which is completely legal... it was my property, running my login account) in order to retain my own sanity. Can't people just be honest? Moral?

One of the moments that I clung to when my character was being assassinated, was when my ex recounted a tale of her trying to elicit yet more sympathy from our friends (I was not present, naturally). She was outraged that they were so dismissive of yet another here we go again tear-jerking tale of woe is me and pity party for the biggest martyr I have ever had the misfortune to meet, let alone date and foolishly marry.

Yes, fundamentally, this is a story of me growing up. This is a story of me finding out that relationships can be abusive, with cheating, lies, subterfuge and people are even prepared to take a life to perpetuate their disgustingly twisted image of self-righteous perfection. Whiter than white. Ha! I think not.

I accept now that I played my part in this. I should have taken responsibility for the safety of my own life much earlier, but so much of my support network was perverted by this manipulative character. Many of my friends went quiet, reserving judgement. They didn't reject me as a friend, but our relationship went cold.

I really hope she's OK. I don't think she's a bad person. I actually don't think anybody is 'bad' per se, Instead, we are all animals that respond to stimuli, to our environment, to factors outside of our control. I tried my best to make it work - that's what my parents taught me to do - but I didn't know how to walk away.

I didn't know how to walk away and it nearly killed me.

I got to keep our cat, but nothing else. My 'half' has been spent on putting this heartbroken chap back together again. I'm off to hospital again now. Hopefully I'm going to have an echocardiogram soon and see how bad the damage is.

This poor animal was the victim of a horrible divorce. Frankie the cat didn't have a great time either (October 2014)

Tags: #divorce #suicide #friends #mentalhealth #frankie