Abused, Again, and too late for BADD

Two streams of thought from diverse sources have informed today's experience of abuse.

Firstly, the esteemed Charles Dawson, recalling his original blog, commented on the Goldfish's BADD 2011 post: " ... the abuse ... was nothing to do with you. The need to abuse is projected out of the personality of the abuser, onto the nearest available victim. You just happened to be there, in the line of fire."

Secondly, comments on tv programme from Lottery winners: that their good fortune attracts hatred, in all its diverse forms; threats, violence, robbery, vandalism, from neighbours and others in the lottery winners' communities.

No, I haven't won the lottery, well not literally although metaphorically, sat in my garden enjoying the view, I feel as though I have - I am exceedingly fortunate - not lucky because my good fortune has been hard won and earned, but relieved and at peace that finally, some eight years after first requesting wheelchair access into my home, I have achieved it. Thanks in no small part to the hard work by my social worker in finding a shared ownership housing and support organisation that could help me achieve it.

My lovely new wheelchair accessible home was hard won, and support from fellow bloggers through 2006/7/8/9 was an important part of my ability to cope and continue, eventually assisted by a Local Government Ombudsman investigation, to Fight the Good Fight, when no-one should have to fight against disabilist policies by budget fixated negative so and so's.

Anyway, today I discovered I have a jealous neighbour. Last summer I politely asked my neighbour to cut back their boundary leylandii hedge which is doing what leylandii hedges do. Eight feet high and venturing over a metre deep into my vegetable plot. The neighbour agreed, but didn't. Last week I asked the shared owner/housing and support organisation to act on my behalf and ask the neighbour to cut back their boundary hedge. Yesterday they sent me a copy of their letterheaded letter sent to my neighbour. Today, I learn, my neighbour rang the housing and support organisation that provides the lease for my shared ownership wheelchair accessible home and spouted confabulations and outright lies (and I say that in full confidence without the need to add 'allegedly' anywhere in that sentence). First abuse.

Second Abuse: I returned home late this afternoon, after the second of three medical appointments this week, to find a scary email from the housing officer at the housing and support organisation, listing as if fact, all the lies (and confabulations *) spouted by my neighbour today and warning me that such behaviour on my part is in breach of my shared-ownership lease.

Charles was spot on about the First Abuse: projected out from my neighbour's personality. The Second Abuse was the worst. I felt my home was threatened. My foundation. My Anchor. My Safe Haven. Because firstly the housing officer had given my neighbour the opportunity to abuse me then, secondly, passed the abuse on and built on it.

I have referred the housing officer's actions to the Director of the housing and support organisation, and called my social worker for advice. And taken prescribed drugs to stop the fear. And PTSD.

Tomorrow is another day and after the third and final medical appointment of this week, if the weather is as good as today, I will again take my mobility vehicle and camera down the meadow to the mighty river (pic above) and say to myself: This too will pass. Hopefully.

On a lighter note, which comparatively it is ... when I left home for the medical appointment, I left my OT in charge of a gaggle of men installing an automatic system on my wheelchair access door ... auto open/close/lock/unlock. This is the third day they have been invading my peace and sanity, hacking at my new front door and pristine walls and scuff-free threshold to fit it, but my OT was confident all would be well. As I turned onto the drive I said to my PA: two plips and I am in .... first plip (remote control) to open the vehicle rear tailgate to let me out in the wheelchair; second plip (remote control) to open the new automatic front door to let me into the house. Ha !

Another thing to sort out tomorrow and the wheelchair stayed in the vehicle. It is indeed fortunate that first; as I now have two front doors I could use the other one and second, that I can walk into the house !!!

I think its that which really gets to my neighbour.

(Mimi Cummins's blog for BADD and following comments consider the use of assistive technology and what I refer to as 'walking-wheelies')

(* Collins Dictionary - Confabulation: Psychiatry. to replace the gaps left by a disorder of memory with imaginary remembered experiences, consistently believed to be true. )