Rant-19

The advert ends on the note: "look them in the eyes and tell them you're doing all you can to stop the spread of Covid-19"

WHY??? The vast majority of people who contract Covid-19 do not get seriously ill. Indeed, at least a third never develop any symptoms at all. Yet all are obliged - by law and by force and by threat and by fine - to suffer for a proportionally small minority. And now they add emotional blackmail.

Let's have them, those who are seriously ill, those who have lost loved ones, LOOK THE REST OF THE POPULATION IN THE EYES and say I don't give a fuck for your life, your death, your mental health, your education, your future. Because that's what it boils down to. Sure, if you get covid or lose someone to it that SUCKS but so does cancer or stroke or heart disease or cot death or suicide or any disease under the sun.

Babies are suffering abnormal development and non-existent socialisation. This is the largest involuntary social experiment of all time and may well have lifelong negative consequences. https://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/coronavirus-babies-toddlers-education-development-school-playgrounds-b1042852.html

Children are losing out on their educations. Disruption in the early years we have known for decades is immensely harmful but we also have kids getting 'results' for exams not sat! IF my daughter graduates this summer it will be from having HALF her time at university stripped away. £9000 per year student debt for NO support, NO services, NO library, NO facilities and precious little by way of education. https://www.express.co.uk/news/uk/1390586/coronavirus-news-university-students-fees-online-learning Will her degree even be respected by employers who'll know she didn't attend lectures?!

We are facing a mental health crisis of unparalleled proportions. From the obvious stresses of those on the 'frontlines' https://www.theguardian.com/education/2021/jan/31/covid-stress-driving-hundreds-of-childcare-workers-to-quit-profession to the parents who're trying to work full-time from home while trying to teach their kids full time; or people like me who are caring for a loved one with no support and no respite. We're told to 'Protect the NHS' but the NHS has an appalling track record for mental health support. I told my GP I was suicidal; he replied "I don't care", it was SIX YEARS between my kid's suicide and the eventual referral to CAHMS. There'll be multi-generational depression, PTSD, social anxiety, eating disorders and substance abuse. TBH my family already had all of this BEFORE so you can only imagine what a mess we'll be afterwards. Then there's postnatal depression https://www.itv.com/news/2020-12-18/how-covid-restrictions-are-fuelling-a-postnatal-depression-crisis putting mother & baby's lives at risk. This is not a society but a sham; we are not supporting each other, we're cowering in fear and leaving the most vulnerable exposed.

Businesses are going belly-up at an alarming rate https://www.telegraph.co.uk/business/0/job-losses-uk-coronavirus-covid/ the future is a terrifying prospect of unemployment, crushing national debt, devastating poverty, and empty high-streets. Y'all can argue that you can't put a price on people's lives but POVERTY KILLS.

People are suffering and dying of covid alone which is horrific and inhumane https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/stories-55725812 but what of the (so far) hundreds of thousands of people who're suffering and dying alone of other causes or the (so far) tens of thousands of people whose cancer diagnoses have been delayed or missed entirely https://www.ajmc.com/view/diagnostic-delays-from-covid19-may-increase-cancerrelated-deaths-uk-studies-say.

Death rites are vitally important for the grieving process but we're severely limiting this crucial rite of passage from denying people contact with their loved ones to preventing funeral attendance. When my cousin Allister was dying of brain cancer his parents did a mercy dash to his bedside; his funeral was attended by hundreds. It was still devastating, especially for his parents, burying a second son in a year and a half, but seeing him one last time, seeing the church at standing-room only must've been some small comfort. To think of people like them being denied that is agonising.

"During the national lockdown, no more than 6 people can attend commemorative events such as stone setting ceremonies, the scattering of ashes or a wake." - www.gov.uk

Six people isn't even the immediate family in many instances!

Telling parents they can't even support each other at the side of their premature and critically ill baby is one of the most horrific, inexcusable things I can imagine https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-lancashire-55840222 unless it's not being able to register and grieve a baby's loss https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-sussex-52663205. Or perhaps this https://www.mirror.co.uk/news/uk-news/coronavirus-heartbreak-teenagers-funeral-limited-21741773 to lose a child after a life-long illness; having anticipated a celebration of her life as a means for the parents to cope with her loss only to have to settle for near enough nothing. It's beyond cruel.

Look a child in the eyes and tell them their education and future doesn't matter.

Look a stressed out and desperate single mother in the eyes and tell her that her isolation and trauma don't matter. Say it again over the grave of the baby she smothered when it all got too much.

Look a man who's gone bankrupt in the eyes and tell him that losing his business, his home, his relationship and his self-respect to the lockdowns isn't as important as a stranger's health. Look his widow in the eyes after he dies of suicide and say it again.

Look an old woman in the eyes and tell her she can't say goodbye to her husband at the end of her life. Tell her she can't see the children and grandchildren she now hasn't seen in a YEAR. Tell those children that they can't offer their father comfort at her funeral.

If you can do any one of those things you're a truly horrible person. But we're all sitting in our homes, protecting our own miserable little lives and allowing this to happen. History is not going to judge us kindly. The moment I knew we were beyond salvation was when the churches locked their doors. The faithful ministering to the sick and dying during times of plague is inspiring; this is the opposite. We have withdrawn kindness under the false guise of protecting others.

One person's life or death is not more important than another's; the many should not be sacrificed for the few.

Humans are mortal; we're all going to die. Diseases are normal and natural, especially one like this that kills the elderly and the chronically ill - the reason the 1918 flu pandemic was so horrifying was that it killed the young and otherwise healthy. Yet in 2009 when the Swine Flu pandemic killed children and pregnant women NOTHING closed, nothing changed. My kid had it - she wasn't tested or seen by a doctor; her school didn't close or even do a deep clean. She survived, 392 others didn't... but at the time of the first lockdown only 400 or so people had died in the UK. How come nothing was done on the back of nearly 400 YOUNG deaths when the entire country was shut for just over 400 primarily OLD people?! Sure, a lot more have died now but thousands die in every seasonal flu outbreak but we go on as usual. Our population is aged and unhealthy, people have been dying at proportionally slower rates for decades. The population crisis has been under discussion for years - we NEED a pandemic to redress the balance and, for the survival of the species, this isn't even the tip of the iceberg.

In 1900 the world population was approx. 1.6 billion; now it's nearly 7.8 billion and that's with two World Wars (WWI 15-22,000,000 dead; WWII 20-85,000,000 dead), the 1918 pandemic 17-100,000,000 dead), HIV/AIDS (32,700,000 dead), and the advent of birth control! More than quadrupled in 120 years with HUGE losses. Covid's currently at 2,230,000. The death toll, taken alone or in proportion to population, just doesn't warrant the devastation the INTERVENTIONS are wreaking.

I'm not afraid of covid; of dying myself or losing loved ones to it. I'm afraid of surviving this hell and trying to rebuild. People dying is sad but IMHO people who wrap themselves in cotton wool and leave the rest of 'society' to rot aren't worth saving.

Stumbled across an email about mum's stroke...saving it here as back-up

Explanatory notes:

• Email written to my younger daughter - I had only just told her about my mum's stroke and the conversation had been (from my end) at a bus stop in Central Reading...far from ideal and I was worried I had missed essential details. I did much the same over following weeks - especially when my aunt would ask if my mum was out of hospital yet...and I was worried I hadn't made it clear how serious the situation was. My aunt thinking she'd only be in hospital a week or two was a cause for concern - was I explaining it that badly?!
• Pogsy is a nickname for my dad. We have no idea why.
• Erni is a nickname for my elder daughter Erin after a preschool misspelling.
• I have taken out a bunch of names as I have mentioned immediate family before but not necessarily others.
• All changes are in [---] and I am not doing any corrections. I want to keep this true to the event.

I'm going to take things back a bit...

Grandma was in town for her dental appt. She spent Thursday & Saturday with my dad. The original idea was for me to go visit her after work Monday but as Erin was home (she's sprained her wrist by the way) we invited Grandma over for Sunday dinner. She arrived about 1130 and stayed six hours. She was fine, alert...although she did look 'tottery' as she walked out to her car but I put it down to being stiff and tired after a long afternoon sat on my sofa, and probably it was.

MONDAY

I worked a half day Monday and came home with a borderline migraine. Crawled into bed at 1530. Erni cooked dinner and I was just going for a shower at 8pm when the phone rang at 8pm. Erin answered it and a moment later, perfectly calmly she said "Mum, emergency". I took the phone. It was [mum's partner - hereafter 'N']. He said that mum had called about 3pm saying she was tired and going to rest. As the evening wore on and he didn't hear back from her he got concerned. I think he said he'd been trying for an hour and when she finally answered he couldn't understand her. Erin ran to dad's while I got dressed. Apparently Pogsy rang her, said curtly "I'm coming over" and minutes later we're in the car hightailing it over to her flat. Grandad driving while alarmed is also alarming. Pogsy wanted to go in first with me poised to call 101 (which as it turns out is the Police non-emergency number; he meant 111).

So Pogsy dashed in, Grandma was on the floor, sitting up but slumped against her armchair. Dad asked straight off if she wanted medical assistance and she replied clearly "Yes" a minute later I realised I was calling the wrong number and basically thought fukkit this is a 999 job. They kept asking questions geared at heart attacks and I realised that what I was describing didn't even sound like any kind of emergency so I said, quite truthfully, "I think she may have had a stroke". Felt awful for saying it where she could hear me but what can you do???

She was conscious or semi-conscious. She could answer some questions like the medical help one clearly enough but other words were slurred, mumbled, incomprehensible or just no response. Erin went outside to usher in the ambulance crew.

They came in and Pogsy stayed with her while she was being assessed and put into one of those chair carriers to get her out. Erin and I went into her bedroom. We couldn't find a bag or holdall so we nabbed her granny trolley (remarkably handy actually) and started packing it, she'd need fresh clothes and wash stuff for discharge if nothing else. I also called N with an update; he told me to ring whenever I knew anything. Pogsy was trying to find mum's meds etc.

I was going with mum in the ambulance, dad and Erin were coming to the hospital later...I forget why but dad wanted to come back to Woodley for some reason that seemed important at the time. Mum was asked if N or I would be her next of kin - eventually it was decided she was indicating me. It seemed to take forever to get to A&E. Mum was clearly in a bad way - groaning over ever bump and being sick. We arrived at A&E & mum was taken straight to a side room because of diarrhoea and sickness. It was bad cos she was begging for water but nil by mouth. She still hadn't been seen / cleaned up when Pogsy & Erni arrived but then she was cleaned & changed into a gown while the three of us went to the waiting area. Thankfully they let her have water then too.

After they left a doctor saw her and she was asked what happened and she was explaining away...making no sense at all. However later she was saying perfectly clearly she'd be there for hours and I should go home. It was just as confusing for me tbh.

We went through the night in much the same fashion - her practically speaking in tongues and complaining about the bright lights or other patients' bleeping monitors. She was moved to another side room in another part of A&E called Majors (as opposed to minors I presume). There was definitely some assumption that the diarrhoea and vomiting were the problem and that the state of mum was her normal condition which was difficult. Her blood pressure was really high as was her blood glucose. Another thing was she had retained urine. The scanned her bladder twice, twice on a bed pan and about half an hour on a commode before they finally catheterised her. We could have done without them 'joking' about burst bladders but I have to say I was almost as relieved as she was! There was talk of a urinary tract infection which would explain that and even the mental confusion and when mum asked "why am I like this?" that's what I told her. Dad was concerned it was related to her ongoing back pain (no idea how it could've been) and I had concerns she'd fallen and hurt herself, maybe her hip, and couldn't explain where. Broken bones can cause embolisms also resulting in mental confusion. Lots of theories, zero answers. They did however also have her on a saline drip, had given her an IV shot of antibiotics AND hooked her up to an insulin pump to get her diabetes back in check. At least once I brought up stroke and was told no, it's not that.

At 2am, probably when she was being catheterised, I nipped out to call N and Erin. But being a complete fuckup of a life my sim card had come loose and it was all I could do to get my contacts up on my phone let alone connect to a service. I called E from the reception desk and asked her to call N.

At about 0430 she was moved to the Acute Medical Unit (AMU) and again put in a side room. I moved her stuff in, established that she was staying put for the time being and left. By that point she was fast asleep. In fact, I think she slept through the entire transfer.

The buses had started running but I walked home from the hospital. It had been quite a traumatic night and I needed the air and time to do some processing.

TUESDAY

I got in and went to bed 0630...and then Pogsy rang at 0830 and that was that! Never been so grateful for a migraine nap in my life.

Don't remember an awful lot of Tuesday to be honest. Dad and I discussed a lot of the ifs buts and maybes of the situation and I started cleaning house (which was already not bad for us) with the idea that whatever happened mum recuperating at mine was the likeliest outcome. At some point Erni picked up Hennessy [our black cat] and saw blood on his hind left paw.

Erin came to the hospital with me in the afternoon. Mum was sleeping when we got there which was fair enough but when the consultant came in they could barely rouse her and things got properly worrying. The consultant was still thinking infection, I raised a number of concerns inc. stroke but again was told no. Mum could squeeze, albeit weakly, with both hands and wiggle both feet. I was told she'd be sent for a CT scan that evening.

Erni and I left, did a bit of shopping and went home again. At about 2030 I got a call from the hospital during which I got a dripfeed of info: them "what do you think happened?" me "Stroke?" them "I think you're right" then confirming that's what the CT scan showed then that it was severe. Then she asked about resuscitating her if she has a crisis: I said no. We've all talked about this for years but the doctor admitted that in my mother's situation she thought it wasn't in her interests. God knows how I held it together.

I went round to dad's just before 9pm and watched it hit him like a freight train. He swears blind I said it was a 'massive stroke' but I definitely said severe. I think he was hearing what he feared.

I was scheduled to run the shop Wednesday and it was really late to pull out so I decided to work it and then to go down to N's Thursday to tell him face-to-face.

Went home and fell apart for a bit.

WEDNESDAY

Couldn't concentrate worth a damn, stressed af and running on not nearly enough sleep.

Erni & Pogsy visited mum...during which time she didn't wake up AT ALL. Plans were changed. I called N and, hiding the situation from him suggested he come to visit for a few days so he could visit with mum properly. I needed to tell him the truth, face-to-face before letting [her brother] and [sister] know. Absolutely shitting it about making all these really hard phone calls.

I was definitely worried about telling you. I spoke to my area manager cos I had to let someone know that I might have to just drop everything at zero notice. It was her idea to contact your uni for advice.

I crashed at 9pm and got up just after Erin came in from work at midnight. I spent the night doing washing up and watching the Supernatural musical episode 😉 Back to bed at 0430.

THURSDAY 

Erni had made a vet appt for Hennessy at 9am - I couldn't be worrying about a sick cat too. We were only taking him out on the lead and he'd spent most of the last 24 hrs sleeping in his carrier. He didn't look right at all. Toe is very definitely injured. Painkillers & antibiotics for now, take him back next week if he's still bad or earlier if he gets worse. On the plus side he's walking without a limp.

N arrived at midday. by arrangement Erni popped out the back and to Pogsy's because I didn't think N needed an audience. I felt so bad for not telling him straight out but he understood why I didn't want him to hear by phone or to drive while distressed. After that Pogsy & Erni came round for lunch. The mock meat I'd bought for sandwiches wasn't vegan but fukkit for once. After that I started on the phone calls including to your uni where they advised me to tell you as I did for all I was worried about it.

I called [cousin T] to break the news to [mum's sister] and she gave me [cousin J's] number and I called him to tell [her brother]...and you know what happened??? T PHONED [mum's sister] and [mum's sister] phoned [her sister in law]! So much for me trying to get everyone told gently and in person! I was especially worried as Saturday is the anniversary of [my cousin] Allister's death.

I saw that you had a presentation so I held off until evening and that would have to be after N and I visited the hospital. Thank goodness really because I was so much happier for seeing her relatively alert. It's also a huge weight off my mind to know that most everyone knows. Actually managed to sleep fairly well last night!

N is staying here and Erni is camping at Pogsy's as you might need to if you decide to visit. We're all just doing whatever we can to help each other. Thank goodness my dad and N get on okay! They're fetching mum's car back here today so it can be kept an eye on. Dad worries about silly stuff like that; I worry about people.

So I think that's about it. Not gonna lie, this is still a deeply worrying situation. Will keep you updated.

It occurs that my grandad must've had his big stroke around the time my mum turned 40; he was in hospital that Christmas. He would have been 75 at the time. My mum's 73 and a half.

Day 28

I can't cope.

My mum has been in hospital for four weeks now and it seems to be all about complications and apathy. Without going into too much detail she has a medical condition but is on a rehab ward with no doctor; we got a duty doctor called but he arrived at 3am, my mum was asleep so he didn't bother to see her OR organise any follow-up. She's in a lot of pain and distress; they've done NO follow-up testing to see if the treatments are even working and they give her paracetamol only occasionally. On top of that she's at serious risk of dehydration because she just can't / won't drink enough. I'm looking at having to quit work now so I can look after her while she's still in hospital because it's that bad!

The cat's paw thankfully seems to have healed, the plumbing crisis has been fixed (thank you, dad!) but naturally now *I* am having a health scare too.

The bit that finished me off though was my daughter's uni finances application which I hate on principal and always get super stressed out over but this time ended up with the entire family screaming and me getting the blame for everything. My father started banging on "there's no point having a panic attack" ...well thanks for that astute observation you absolute FUCKTARD! Not like it's a matter of choice and you're not bloody helping. Complete bloody moron.

I just want everything to STOP.

Day Nineteen

My mum is starting to make some baby steps toward progress. We guessed at the outset that this was going to be a long hard journey...I don't especially like being right but I feel it's better to plan for the hard stuff than setting yourself up for disappointment expecting it to be easy. I'd rather fear a difficult recuperation and be right (or pleasantly surprised if it's 'not that bad') than anticipate a speedy recovery and be disheartened.

So...she's starting to spend a bit more time awake and alert; she's doing better enunciating and projecting her voice - more than half the trouble understanding her is how quietly she's been talking, especially difficult in a noisy ward with lots of distractions.

Tonight though we had a little bit of a hiccup. Toward the end of our visit my mum asked if her parents were alright...

As I said in an earlier post my grandad, her dad, was left severely incapacitated from a stroke. He died, aged 91, in 2000 from related causes. Her mum died, aged 95, just a matter of weeks later - also, as it turns out, from a stroke.

My mum cared for them from the outset right to the very end so the fact she'd lost track of those memories came as quite a shock. Not only that, but they died a long time ago - back when my kids were really small so the fact she recognises them as being adults (and me as a middle-aged woman) seems a tad incongruous.

At the same time I'm seeing it as progress - she's thinking more about life outside of her hospital bed, of people and things that are important to her...even if she's getting a bit muddled on the details.

She took the 'news' pretty well. Thankfully it didn't seem like she was going to grieve them over again. However, she is starting to get a tad depressed as the realisation of how ill she's been starts to dawn on her. For two and a half weeks she's been in a weird kind of bubble of existing in a hospital bed and just accepting that's how things are but now she's remembering a life outside of that and feeling frustrated she isn't better yet...there's a lot of hard stuff still to come, I think.

22 - 40 - 70-something

When my mum turned 40 I was 6. Her dad was 75...and that's when he had a severe and debilitating stroke. He lived another 16 years, dying in 2000 when I was 22.

I have a 22 year old daughter. I turned 40 a month ago. I feel like I have aged 40 years in the last week: my 73-and-a-half year old mum just had a stroke.

On Sunday my mum came over for a roast dinner. We talked for hours. I keep thinking of odd things that came up - like her spotting my old baby blanket (which was also my daughters' when they came along) in my cat's wicker carrying basket, or her interest in modern washable sanitary pads

Just over 24 hours and a migraine later I was just about to step into the shower when I heard the phone ring. My 22 year old daughter, Erin, answered and a moment later said, perfectly calmly, "Mum, emergency". In fact, it was so calm that's what got my attention. It still seems weird that it all began so low-key.

My stepdad had been trying to get hold of my mum - she spends most of her time with him but still has a flat here; she values her freedom and independence - she finally answered and he couldn't understand her. He rang me and raised the alarm. Erin and I don't drive but my dad lives next door...minutes later we were tearing across town, split between fearing the worst, and imagining how pissed my mum would be for us pestering her!

I've hardly known which way was up since then. This week has been all about difficult phone calls and decisions and whole lot of adulting...I just want to do colouring in my blanket fort!

My mum is stable and has finally been moved onto a specialist stroke unit but I don't feel like the stress will let up any time soon.

I am so grateful I had my kids young. I couldn't imagine going through this with a 6 year old to look after. Think about that if you're ever inclined to judge teen parents!

I'm glad I had such a good mid-life crisis.


Update:
I described that first week as the longest seventeen months of my life. When we got past the seventeen month mark we agreed that for a randomly selected time period it was pretty spot-on. 
Mum's stroke was described as 'severe' and she had multiple points of damage in both hemispheres.

On Truth and Perception...and Alien Abductions

Just found this in my drafts...no idea why it wasn't published when I wrote it nearly a year ago. 
PLEASE BE CAREFUL - TRIGGER WARNINGS: Abduction, sexual abuse, sexual violence, rape etc.

INTRODUCTION
Recently* I had a big set-to on Twitter because I have issues with transexuality being self-declared. For me it is a matter of the philosophy of identity which is a subject most perplexing. The individual is seen as the epicentre of identity BUT is the individual best placed to determine their own identity when by its very nature identity is how we are seen by others? 

To clarify for anyone not following me on Twitter I have zero problem with transexuality itself. Regularly I see online that self-awareness of depression or eating disorders is not enough, you must be formally diagnosed. This is not to liken transexuality with mental disorders - just a comparison to other situations where a self-identification is regularly denied despite being fairly straightforward matters of self-awareness. Whether we think of the fictional Adrian Mole and his false self-identification as an intellectual or the real-world Rachel Dolezal who faked being black because that is the ethnicity she identifies with - there are a host of reasons why individual perception is not a great way to define ANYTHING, much less an aspect of the self where the ego can warp perception enormously. Lets face it, Muhammad Ali's assertion that he was "the greatest" is itself immensely egotistical...but validated by popular consensus. Similarly Agatha Christie couldn't bring herself to self-identify as an author despite her demonstrable successes.

I mention this as a precursor to today's musings on truth and perception as they revolve around the idea that things are not always as we see, feel or otherwise experience them.

For example, I identify as an empath (chiefly in science fiction a person with the paranormal ability to perceive the mental or emotional state of another individual - see the Doctor Who episode "Hide") so I live by my intuition a fair bit. I don't expect anyone to acknowledge or believe my gut reactions on any subject, it is purely a matter of my self-perception.

I mention THAT as today's musings begin though with, what to me was, an empathic experience. That I was being told a series of highly dubious tales does not make my impression of the teller as untruthful an empathic experience, just as my 'feeling' on the subject could be easily attributed to paralinguistic attributes (intonation, facial expression etc) but - to my way of thinking - the identification of the root cause of untruthfulness IS a matter of empathic experience.

ON TRUTHFULNESS AND PERCEPTION
When we think of a person being untruthful we come up with synonyms such as 'lying' and 'deceptive' but these only address one form of untruthfulness and there are several.

• Lying - deliberate deceit for gain, attention, amusement (either for the act of telling stories or at the gullibility of of others) etc Perception is deceptive and / or defensive 
• Confusion - honest yet mistaken: repeating a story as heard as if true without verification, misremembering, etc Perception can be confused or truthful, not defensive
• Conviction - the self belief that the stories are true such as with conditions preventing a person from distinguishing fact from fiction, delusions, false memory syndrome (being a step up from a simple act of misremembering) and so forth Perception is truthful and / or defensive *

* Defensive perceptions can also be present in truth-tellers who, for whatever reasons, fear or expect to be disbelieved making truth and conviction difficult to distinguish at a perceptive level.

From my perception of myself as an empath I looked at my perceptions of the person who was telling the improbable-to-the-point-of-impossible tales to try to deduce what form of untruthfulness was at play. The stories in question should have fitted into the first category with the deliberate intent of gaining sympathy yet I was struck curiously by sensing no deceit in them. There were certainly elements whereby confusion could be the culprit - especially when it came to misidentifying medical conditions yet that did not fit particularly well to the whole. The third category I also ruled out. I got no sense that this person believed what they were saying.

For me this indicates a fourth category of untruthfulness: the moral lack of distinction between fact and fiction. Sometimes termed a 'compulsive liar' or 'fantasist' (both of which indicate deliberate acts) I feel this is a separate category as, rather than deliberate acts of deception, the concept of deception itself is actually lacking; a form of amorality. Perception is neutral - because truth is irrelevant.

I have encountered such people before but they are, thankfully, rare. In this case the stories were implausible and raised my suspicions but obviously untruths can be highly plausible too.

This led me to thinking...truth itself is a perception. If you believe that something is so it is so, to you. And this leads me to my...

ALIEN ABDUCTION THEORY

At this point I want to stress that if you have had an experience of alien abduction 

I do not recommend you read on; similarly, if you know someone who has 

please do NOT challenge them with my theory. You could do a lot of harm.

I dare say most people are familiar with stories of alien abductions but have you ever contemplated WHY it's a story that is repeated to a very familiar pattern? Unless you happen to ascribe to the idea that aliens ARE abducting humans you probably put it down to mass hysteria or suggestibility from science fiction sources.

Once upon a time I met someone who had experienced alien abduction and I was curious as to what my empathic tendencies would reveal about their story...and what hit me most was the genuine trauma they were experiencing. In terms of untruthfulness this would sit firmly in the the conviction category - they believed it, they felt it, the perceptions I had of them were honest and accurate to their claim.

So what was going on? Admittedly this happened at a time when The X-Files was very popular - so a lucid dream perhaps or the influence of drugs? Plausible but I wasn't convinced, the trauma was just too real. The fact that accounts of alien abduction are SO similar led me to a different conclusion.

What do these accounts have in common?

• Paralysis (almost always not restrained, yet unable to move)
• Partially conscious
• Probing (physical violation)

Do any solutions present themselves to your mind? 

My theory is that the phenomenon of alien abduction, aided by popular media, is the mind's way of coping with a genuine trauma - specifically rape, especially when drugs like rohypnol are involved. Hence the comments in red above - if the mind is protecting itself it's probably best left that way. If a person would rather believe their experience was alien abduction then that's fine.

This brings me back to the concept of self-identity - I don't want to CHALLENGE anyone's perception of themselves in any way cos how you see yourself is pretty much irrelevant. What is an issue to me is validating someone's opinion of themselves...if someone feels they have been abducted by aliens I will not challenge that, especially not with my theory, but nor do I need to validate their experience and declare that alien abduction is real. Truth is in your perception of it. It's never nice to be called a liar or to be told "you don't really think / feel / believe that" but why do people put so much value in external validation?