❤️ ADHD Part 2

I wanted to explain a little to you all about my disability ADHD.

The reason behind this is primarily i want to raise awareness of my disability. Secondly, I have a lot of symptoms you may not be aware are symptoms. You may believe I am being rude or inappropriate. This is never my intention and although I have worked on the symptoms of my condition which cause this, I still cannot control these symptoms.

You may notice I fidget and move a lot. Unless I am holding the meeting, and therefore doing most of the communicating, I will struggle to sit down for more than 45 minutes.

I have never attended a course, meeting, seminar, conference nor sat an exam without getting up to go to the toilet. I don’t necessarily need the toilet. But I need to get up and move. If I neglect to do this, my fidgeting only gets worse and I will begin to distract others. I have a lot of internal conflict on whether it’s acceptable to get up to go to the toilet yet again!

Getting up and having a short break enables me to remain more calm whilst having to sit and be quiet.

I tend to bounce my leg, twist my hair, swivel from left to right on my desk chair or move my hands. I try to do the latter the least, as I’m aware my jewellery will make noise and distract others even more.

I need frequent breaks, so will try to leave my desk once an hour, maybe for a little chat, or to make a drink or have a cigarette. 

I don’t generally take an hour for lunch. I tend to buy food, return to my desk and eat and work Simultaneously. I do this so I am able to have these regular breaks.

Without regular breaks I end up zoning out, I am unable to concentrate, my already poor short term memory gets worst and I’ll be completely unproductive.

I also interrupt people when they haven’t finished talking. Again, when I first interrupt I do realise this and I’ll
Stop. But I cannot stop interrupting. My brain works faster than Lewis Hamilton drives at the grande prix, so before I can think about it, I’ve already spoken.

You may notice me pinching my lips. I do this to prevent myself from interrupting you and further.

My short term memory isn’t the best. The most effective way to cope with this at work is to email me any requests of what you require me to do. You could catch me as I am walking to my desk and ask me to do something. 30 seconds later my mind is filled with cats, pink, glitter and unicorns and your request has long gone. 

If you email me,’it will remain in my inbox until I’ve actioned it, and will not be forgot.

I also sometimes don’t think about how I phrase what I’m trying to say. I just blurt out what’s in my head. To be honest, you’ll be thinking the same thing, you just have the ability to think about this and phrase it in a more diplomatic way.

Sometimes I’ve been called up for saying things I could have worded more diplomatically. Again, my brain and mouth function before I think about what I am trying to get across. This is another reason I prefer written communication as i am able to read through this before sending, preventing this symptom.

If I do stop fidgeting and appear to be paying   Attention, do not be fooled. I am not paying attention. I’ve zoned out and I am away with the fairies. Give me a nudge to go take my meds! I’ll perk up within half an hour of doing so.

❤️ Eating Disorders & Drug Addiction

Just watched Loius Therox the programme on anorexia.  Just realise swap restricting food for taking drugs and that could have been me.

The want for self harm.

Anxiety relief.

And constant guilt. 

The need to be perfect.

Yet no sympathys for us druggies and alcoholics.

I bet if death for alchol and drug addiction were recorded as mental disorders, we would be much higher than EDs.

I too have an ED. EDNOS. If I’m on drugs and skinny, I’m cool. If sober and fat I count calories and exercise.

To be honest if it wasn’t for weed (munchies) and alcohol (munches), I would be back to 6.7lbs / 91lbs / 41kg)

#itsnotaboutthedrugs

@Gemma_Stalked

❤️ Who Are You?

Ok, I have bear readers from around the world. Reply anonymously the following

1) how did you find my blog?

2) are you a regular 

3) do you take drugs?

4)which and how long?

5) do you have ADHD?

6) do you have other mental health?

UPDATE - 18/11/17 - I’ve clicked the majority of my world wide readers are probably the nasty people who stalk me and are pushing me to Suicide. Hence the lack of comments. Thanks people, hope you feel good about yourselves 

❤️ What The Terrible Junkie Did Today

Ok... so here’s my day

1) man on the broken northern line, trying to connect to WiFi... most likely to update you all on my location, and couldn’t connect.

I realised by entering my email address in Wi-fi Extra it connected. I shared this knowledge with him

2) Man came in without an appointment. So I had 20 mins for lunch so I could see him. He was angry at first, but once I started talking to him about the programme and the help I could provide he really cheered up. Got him hooked onto CSCS. He’s a single dad. It’s a pleasure helping people like him. He’s also a tattoo artist. Maybe I’ll be treated to a free tattoo when I get him employment!! My candidate last week made me a bracelet for helping him get his driving license.

3) My colleague is off with a bereavement. So I also registered her customer.

4) My candidate J**, lovely boy but he’s a pain in the bum. Couldn’t make it to the office so we could refund his travel. So I met him at the tube station and reimbursed him out of my own money. Of course I’ll get this back tomorrow, but what I did, was above and beyond the remit of my role.

So maybe instead of making MY life a misery, because of the LIES you’ve been told, you read my blog and see that you shouldn’t judge a book, based on some retarded critic’s review, when the critic never read the book in the first place and the review you read was complete fabrication.

Hopefully seeing my R*** tomorrow too!! 

Yay!!

❤️ When I Became Famous

In January 2015 my linked went crazy. I got more views than the principal of the college and a member of staff who was famous.

On Facebook however, my so called friends and family quickly unadded me and blocked me

I’m at the top for most. The yellow highlighted one.

❤️ 18th February 2018 - My Blog

Hi all

Well after much hard work, I think I’ve managed to find all my missing blog posts and delete all the duplicates.

I’m so grateful they were on my old iPhone as around 63 appear to have been deleted! 

Finally, I’ll be back on track and able to start posting more new material!!

I can’t believe, 63 missing blog posts!! How pathetic are my family! I mean my psychosis!!

❤️ February 2015 - June 2015 - Once Upon a Time - Ethylphenidate Addiction

Due to my two failed detoxes, my parents decided my failure was enough to have the whole of the U.K. turn against me.

It's desperately sad, read any book on addiction and you'll see the addict fail time after time, Gloria Estafan style.

Whilst I never suffered from psychosis, I did suffer from mania, and became often wild and disillusioned during these phases. 

I'd sellotape my gear to my thigh, wear my onesie. Dressing gown, get into bed... Otherwise my gear would be stolen as I slept.

When the whole world tried to convince me I was mad. Even my Psych agreed a junkie would never lose, contaminated or piss around with their stash. Unlike text book psychosis, if I didn't do this, mine would be stolen or contaminated. 

I also did this with my pins as mine got damaged by psychosis too. Meaning I couldn't flag and suffered horrendously from missed shots.

Even when I would try to sleep, they would push and push me, sending me more and more manic, I was acting animalistic.

Rolling a spliff to help me sleep, only to find it ripped in to two pieces seconds later. 

I'd leave my house or my parents' house, only to find the street Spring into action, just like when I was an extra on Eastenders. 

The same faces passing me time and time again. However, unlike Eastenders, they rarely had any believable acting skills. They would anxiously stare at me, quickly looking away should my sparkling green eyes, with mildly expanded pupils, catch theirs, they would look away with a sheer aroma of anxiety. Well 90%, some of the younger, mainly those from an Asian ethnicity would taunt me, shouting abuse on one end of the scale, or flirting with an injected, erratic, enthusiastic nature; appearing extremely unnatural; certainly not a behaviour I had experienced in my previous 33 years on earth.

'I'm sober you dick wads!' I'd repeat my mantra in my head, often shouting out to the Junkette's I would frequently see. The frustration, especially when I was sober caused me to think fuck this! If I'm  living in crazy town, I'm having the drugs which are supposedly taking me there.

So I used and used. In public, in bushes, in rubbish bins, in bin sheds, in overgrown back passages leading to garages, in McDonald's toilets, in pub toilets, if dark, crouched between two vehicles underneath the orange glow of the street lights. 

I'd use in the shelters conveniently made for me at the park. I'd use on the bus. Sneaking my hand into my bag, prepping my shot and using a vein from my hand.Carefully inserting the needle when I  knew I had reached a traffic light giving me enough time to do so.

❤️ 17th February 2018 - Update

Ok, so I’m moving to the country. Placed a deposit on a 3 bed, ensuite, downstairs toilet, large garden and parking, new build house. Yay! I will escape my abusers. Should be ready in October. Decided to have a look in Devon when I was practically dying from pneumonia. I was incredibly suicidal.

Before this incident, me and N had a big bust up. I think the catalyst was N coming and trying it on with me (and being successful on some occasions) when I had been drinking and took zolpidem. Now, Zopiclone and a beer... nothing. You’ve gotta be tipsy for Zopiclone black out. Zolpidem and a mear sniff of booze... that’s it. Memory gone and tales of the craziness that pursued.

Anyway, although my short term memory is crap, I think this subject may have been the initial fuel to the argument’s fire.

I’m sure my insistence on him having his own room in the new place I built increased his anger. This resulted in myself receiving messages saying

N is well aware being alone in his house is fear number one.

So I arranged to see R***, and when N disclosed the above text was a ‘joke’, yet I insisted he spent ONE NIGHT away, as per the aformented text, he went mad, to put it bluntly.

Refused to give Cyra, my bunny back initially also.

So, suicide was at the forefront of my mind. 

This was exuberated by my poor performance at work, when i was under the belief my pneumonia was a cold.

Then, I discovered properties I could buy outright in Plymouth, where I went Rehab. 

Went to visit one weekend, which proved to be a disaster, as I managed to lock myself out of my iPhone so only arranged one viewing.

The house wasn’t right, the Estate agent was pressuring me to an offer, even though I wanted to view it again. She had a lot of other offers apparently. I’m not rushing a decision to spend £200k, so told her politely to take one of the other offers then, and promptly blocked her number.

Did see my friends, so I knew it was the right decision.

So, last weekend, I found my house!!

My sleeping tablets never arrived again. As a result I’ve been using b... I want the tablets, but bar tablets only heroin is a strong enough sedative to ensure I sleep. Why can’t they fuck off and allow me the tablets.

Also, as they hack my dark net accounts, I feel under the pressure to spend all the money I transfer, for fear of losing it. So end up buying coke, which I don’t really want, but it’s preferable over having my.money stolen.

And, I’m lucky enough to have made two discoveries this week. The door is self unlocking!! This is why it’s unlocked most days I arrive home first. And never unlocked should N arrive first.

Left for work, and the house was still in sight when I remembered my temazepam. I sharply turned back. And the door, I had only locked moments ago, was now unlocked (not open, you can’t get in still, unless you have a key, but it’s not locked).

I’ve got super OCD now about locking the door. So I know I locked it.

So... they’re not in my property! They simply remotely unlock the doors!! Very reassuring as I spent over £100 to change all the locks. And really is the only sensible solution I have come too. 

And... my pins being damaged!! I’ve got the answer for that too!! But this story is to be published another day!!

Can’t wait to leave London. Bar N and R***, there’s only one other human who may feel love or strong affection for me... and that’s my niece Precious P. I am yet to, and probably will never, meet baby P.

My colleague who started the same time as me, had resigned during my two weeks of sickness... clearly unable to deal with my candidates, which total around 320, along with her pathetic 150.

She was off all week. I successfully dealt with her candidates and mine. 

Finally, when I do feel ready to get clean, once I’ve escaped and am no longer in so much pain, I want this tattoo on my wrist, covering my veins, when I bang up

Couldn’t be more appropriate for me! This means, should I relapse, those veins won’t be accessible. I cannot see veins under my current tatts.

So, to all my haters... I’ll be 36, with an amazing new build 3 bed house and MORTGAGE FREE FUCKERS.

I’m doing better than you, aren’t I? I bet that only contributes to the misery and bitterness that clearly consumes you so much, you believe you behaviour is acceptable.

Bye, the very smug Junkie, who’s actually far from what you have heard and believe, who’s actually, doing much better than the majority of those who dislike her!!!

❤️ Dear Daily Mail

If this book is in your possession I am dead.  I commited suicide, but it's not really suicide it's murder.  I believe my family tormented me and tormented me, until I killed myself.  They deny this and claim it's drug induced psychosis, but they never stop.

 If I am truly mad, please use these blog posts to create a lovely article on the danger of drug addiction and the subsequent psychosis one is liable to suffer from.

However, if indeed, i did appear in the Sun, was abused and mass stalked by my family (and seeing as you briefly followed me on Twitter, the latter seems to have more credibility), this should be an interesting read.

I will ensure you receive this blog prior to any attempts to terminate my existence. Even though my family have installed surveillance in the house I own, they will most likely sit back and do nothing should

I try to take my life.

If this provides enough evidence for the to be prosecuted, please go ahead.

The main abusers are

My father - Sir Cunt-a-Lot. 

My mother - I have no word for this woman. She cruel beyond what one can imagine. She deserted her baby, when her baby needed her help. I have more maternal instincts for my cat than she does for me.

My brother - Fat Cunt

My brother’s girl friend - Nice But Dim.

I hope they all get equally long custodial sentences.

If I do commit suicide, please get the truth told.

If I had a normal family, who supported me, I could have picked myself up and carried on.

I don’t.

Combined with all the other events, abuse, trauma, this is not suicide. Those people are my murderers. Along with many others contributing.

Please give me a voice.

The truth behind the most twisted tale of abuse lies within this blog.

I had psychosis when I was clean. Psychosis when I was in opiate withdrawal. Psychosis when I was in olanzapine withdrawal. Psychosis from taking a Nytol. I had psychosis after rehab.

I didn’t have psychosis at all when I went away for two emergency detoxes. Nor when I was sectioned in Springfield even though I was still chronically abusing speed, benzos and weed. I smuggled my works in and I was objecting just as much speed in their as I was using outside. I didn’t have psychosis in rehab. Nor when I used excessively outside my home (or their home)

I know I do not have psychosis. I know all these sick, evil things are done by my family. So I am going to document them for you

This blog details the sick things they have done, the subsequent decline in my mental health and even though my family are completely aware of what they’re doing, what the result of their actions are, my suicide; this proves they want me dead. They could have stopped and left me alone.  But they pushed and pushed me.

I DID NOT COMMIT SUICIDE! I WAS MURDERED.

BY MY FAMILY!

When I needed them the most they destroyed me. It broke me. They broke me. I used to love them so much. Now I am scared of them. Petrified. 

I am scared of my own home, due to their unrelentless, disgusting behaviour. They have driven the one person I had supporting me away. My fear of my lack of privacy and the misery they cause me, was the catalyst for the whole mess which occurred prior to my death.

They have destroyed me. 

(If I had a normal family) and I was a normal 36 year old, I could have picked myself up. Told them some bullshit and carried on. Not having any privacy has killed me. Having people enter my home and leaving my door unlocked, or moving my belongings around, or even leaving a big window open so my beloved cat could have escaped, destroyed me. 

They know my cat is the only thing keeping me alive. If that doesn’t prove they want me dead, I don’t know what does.

So enjoy reading the truth (not the bullshit in the Sun), about the world’s most evil parents.

I do not wish to be referred to by my birth name.

Jay x x x 

❤️ 10th September 2016 - Journal

I don’t want to eat anymore. I need thinness. I want to see bones. The less disgusting fat I have, the less hurt I will have. It’s almost like it’s similar to cannabis or benzos. Fat solvable, and the more fat I have, the longer it will take me to rid my body from the sadness.

I have not one person who truly understands. This is sad. I long to spliff my memories, feelings, questions, to someone who will not only not judge me, but believe me.

Then, they’ll hug me... most likely wiping the tears from my eyes. As the more they listen and believe, the more I disclose. The more I disclose, the more I wish for the life and family I once had. The more I wish, the more my heart aches, reliving the abuse. The more I relive the abuse, the more I want to die.

It’s almost an instinct to run to your mummy. For a split second I feel the urge. Then sadness engulfs me as I remember, it’s my mummy who is doing this.

I long to return to a heavy addiction, which would not only numb my pain, but also serve as a diet aid, allowing me to return to my slim physique.

Drugs not only stop me eating when I’m consuming them, but they also shut up the negative voice. The one who wants me dead. I recon she’s formed an alliance with my family. I hate her. She’s driving me to suicide. Right now I’m very close.

I MUST NOT EAT!

I feel weird today... like I could die any moment. Normally this would be welcomed, but Orion is here right now, purring on my lap. So, this makes me change my determined suicidal thoughts. Although I’m aware they’re getting stronger and stronger.

Today, with R***, I came to the conclusion I am NOT addicted to drugs. My addiction lies with self distraction. 

We spoke about if this drug wasn’t available, what would I do. My replies simply gave substitute after substitute, until we had exhausted drugs. 

When that option was no longer available, my thoughts turned to starvation and self harm. 

R*** came to the conclusion I simply wanted to destroy my life. We already know the catalyst for this behaviour. It stems from always feeling inadequate as a child. 

I wish everyone was like R***. I wish they understood my problens runs much deeper than just taking drugs and getting high. 

My problem is not being good enough. Never achieving perfection. No respite from the negative thoughts in my head.

Drugs give me peace from this negativity, which will ultimately kill me. Starving myself also achieves this. 

I want to get so thin I vanish.

My dad just told me I was on.....

2018 - UPDATE - Unfortunately, like many things my family deem not to be permitted in my life, the rest of this diary entry, and the diary, cannot be found.

Or should I say my ‘psychosis’. Yeah, unlike regular, it loves destroying my written memories of our crazy adventures... almost like it’s real or something... hmmmm