My name was Luke Haywood. I was born 8th October 1984 in Banbury, UK. This is my confession.

The following text has been made over the span of a few months and so I have written it in different states of mind and hypnosis. There are points I will sound bitter or resentful - please understand it will be because of where my head was at during the point of writing. I have no hard feelings towards anyone I've met along my journey. 

I was a good kid with two loving parents and a little sister. I was lucky to have a good upbringing. Our family had its moments but most of the time things were good. 

We have some video tapes of me at as a toddler, taken using a camera that my Dad borrowed from the college - I look so innocent and happy. In one of these videos, I am dancing with my Mum to The Eurythmics. Those were the happy days.

I went to a local primary school and was a good student. I was into what every lad was into back then; football, wrestling, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I spent a lot of time drawing, that was my thing. I wanted to be an artist, or designer, something like that. Life started off pretty normal. 

I remember there were kids who were being sexually active in my school at a very young age, around 5 and 6. I believe they were victims of abuse who were repeating what they were experiencing at home. A few of us took part in some of this activity - we didn’t really know what we were doing. We just knew we couldn’t let the teachers find out. 

This behaviour was then copied at home with friends. For some time it happened regularly. I also developed some fascination with nakedness. As a young child I was already becoming obsessed with things I shouldn't. 

I was relatively good in class, but had a short attention span. My mind would wander and I'd find myself drawing during class. This was a way to escape what was going on in my head. I struggled to pay attention to the instructions given because my head would take me elsewhere but I wasn't a bad student as such, just a disracted one. 

At this point my thoughts of relationships and love were completely pure. I remember my first star-crush was a wrestlers wife, Miss Elizabeth. I thought one day I would get into a relationship with someone as beautiful as her, get married, have kids, all the good stuff. It all seemed like such a simple plan. 

The school I went to was a Christian school but my parents weren't religious. My Dad had turned atheist and was quite anti-religion whereas my Mum was more of an agnositic. It didn't make sense to me, I'd go to school and we'd sing hymns and do the Lords Prayer but then I'd get home and no one even mentioned the word God. 

I was first exposed to pornography at around 8 or 9 years old when a friend and me found some magazines under a bed. Naked women in provocative poses. I was intrigued because my young mind was being exposed to something I didn’t know existed. I knew we were doing something we shouldn’t, so I didn’t spend a lot of time looking - we had a quick look and put them back. Of course I went back for another look later. 

I had been picked on a bit in my early years but when I was about 10 years old it started to get worse. I was the soft middle class kid with blonde hair and an easy target. School was getting a bit harder. There were also a lot of Asians on my street from another school who would get racially attacked and would take it out on me when I went home. I never told my parents though. I kept a lot of stuff that was happening in my childhood to myself.

I soon developed a speech impediment which attracted more bullying and had to do speech therapy before it became a bigger problem. My Mum had also bought me a balaclava, but with the whole face section open. The older boys once circled me and the ring leader head butted me to the ground. I never grassed though, just kept quiet.  

This was the 90s so things were different but I remember a boy brought a condom into school and put it over his head. He then chucked it away. A teacher picked it up and pulled it out in class and asked who’d brought it in. She then said “I should go around like Cinderella and see who it fits” yeah, the 90s were a lot different. 

I was probably around 11 or 12 when I started to realise a couple of my friends were built differently to me. But I hadn’t been conditioned into believing I was unable to satisfy a woman at this point. I just thought if a boy and a girl liked each other enough then they got into a relationship. It didn’t seem so complicated. 

It was about this age when I was beaten up and called a ‘little worm’ which I believed was a reference to my size. This was supposed to be a good friend of mine, I'm not sure what brought it on. 

I think this was about the time I started to get stage fright because I remember trying to pee against a tree in the park and not being able to do it, though I’d always been able to do it before. This would turn into a bigger problem as time went on and would start to have an impact on my life. 

I was slowly starting to get picked on more and there was some friction in the family home. I would escape it all by sitting in my room and drawing, or playing football in the park. I was still a good kid; quiet, humble. I kept myself to myself. 

It must have been in the last year of primary school when some of us were still ‘experimenting’ and a girl made a comment about another boy and some of the others laughed. I didn’t understand why it would be an issue but this is when I first experienced someones size being a joke. 

I was also starting to become insecure about my weight and started to skip meals. I was a good goalkeeper at school and locally in a team but missing meals made me feel dizzy and I couldn't play well. I remember losing my spot at the school team and the Sky Blues academy because I wasn't eating enough. No one knew why my performance had dropped, but I did. Being a footballer went from a dream to a past time pretty quickly, other than kickabouts.

Primary school ended and I went to a secondary school in the village but I didn’t really fit in because my upbringing was in the town and most of my friends were working-class, this village school was more middle-class. This secondary school I went to had showers for after PE and this is where I realised I was a lot smaller than all the other boys, not just a couple friends. I was also circumsized so some of the other pupils assumed I was Jewish and I became insecure about that as well. 

I was gradually starting to think that it was all going to be a problem but just fought the fear and told myself that it wouldn’t matter and one day I’d find the right girl who would accept me for me. My thoughts of partnership and sex were still pure at this point and hadn’t been influenced by hardcore pornography. The only thing I’d ever seen was women posing in magazines.

When I was about 13 for a ‘joke’ I put a girl in my classes camera into my trousers and took a photo (one of the old disposable ones). I remember asking her if they’d processed it and she said something along the lines of “I’m not sure I couldn’t see it” and the other girls laughed. Serves me right really.

I got into a relationship at 13 which lasted a while for 13 years old. She lived round the block and we really got along. The relationship was probably getting on for a year. We did try to have sex but it wasn’t full sex. More just me putting it in and her wanting to stop. She left and split up with me not long later. I wondered if it was something I’d done or if there was something wrong with me. 

It couldn't have been much later that Channel 5 started showing softcore pornography on weekends and I recorded a film called Body Chemistry 5 - this was the first time I ever ejaculated. The narrative was a woman who seduces a married man and if my memory serves me correctly, I think she secretly films it and uses it to blackmail him into more sex. This must have been the first time I saw sex in a different way to what I thought it was - about love. This was the start of my mind being corrupted - sex wasn't always a good thing, sometimes it was bad, too.

I then found some video tapes and most were soft British pornography where you couldn’t see penis's or penetration, but one was American. It was from a series called Barely Legal. On one of the episodes, a step sister catches her brother masturbating and she narrates it, saying his penis size is ‘pathetic’. “I caught him jerking off his pathetic little dick”, something like this. I was now being conditioned to believe I couldn’t satisfy a woman.

I was still experimenting with girls but just didn’t feel ‘adequate’ - and the comments started. The fear was being drove into me. I remember seeing so called penis-enlargers in magazines and wishing I had the money to get one even though I knew they probably wouldn’t work.

I had started skipping meals again, too. I wasn't even that overweight at this age but I was insecure about a bit of weight I'd put on from comfort eating. I now had an issue with my belly and an issue with my penis, insecurities that were about to start causing me problems. 

I became outcasted from my piers because I didn't really fit in with them - I was a ‘townie’ and had started getting into trouble. I was soon drinking and smoking cigarettes early in my teenage years with a friend. My studies then declined and I decided to move to the town secondary school before I got expelled, at around 14. I remember how much relief I felt when I found out they didn’t have showers at the new school, you just did PE at the end of the day and went home. 

There had been arguments in the home before but now they were because of me and my decline in and out of school - I assured my parents I would get back on track at the new school. But the friends from my street already had their own friend groups and I felt like I couldn’t fit in with them either. So I started knocking around with some other troubled lads and my studies continued to decline. 

Because we were drinking a lot and hanging around with girls, I was doing what most boys would do - trying to get with them. Sometimes I did when I was drunk enough, but I would always end up being reminded of why I feared it in the first place. Rejection was becoming a thing. I gradually became more and more scared of sex.

I think I was 14 the first time it happened. My mate was with his girlfriend in one room, and I was with her friend in another room. We were getting close but as soon as she realised my size, she suddenly wanted to go. A day or two later my mate's with his girlfriend and she says "xxxxx says you've got a small dick" laughing. It bothered me.

Comments started to become a thing, comments and looks, people looking at my crotch. Its a weird position to be in when someone looks, and you know they're looking, working you out. And you just have to stand there like nothing's going on. It feels like being judged when you're not even doing anything, just being. Its weird.

My friend from the previous school then got expelled and also came to the town school. I started just sticking with him, we became close friends and not long later discovered cannabis. It was around this time that we found some hardcore pornography magazines. This was when I discovered the high you could get from smoking cannabis and masturbating to hardcore pornography magazines. My brain was starting to be rewired - my thoughts of love and sex were being tainted by pornography and drugs, and I was finding sexual security in locking myself away and masturbating rather than fighting the fear of sexual encounters with girls. 

I had probably been at the school for 6 months or so and things were just going from bad to worse, we soon started selling cannabis and were hanging around with an older bunch who we looked up to.

Not long later we discovered ecstasy and spent a lot of time in our new friend group (local drug addicts) taking pills and getting ‘loved up’ - it was all about peace, love and unity. But it created an even stronger urge for sex than the cannabis. I was still in fear of rejection, so not before long I was finding myself doing the same thing with ecstasy that I’d done with the cannabis, but for much longer. 

Of course all these drugs were keeping my weight down, though. I'd started to use the drugs to escape my feelings instead of the food. But I was now starting to develop an obsession with drugs and alcohol. They changed my perception of reality - a reality I didn't like. I didn’t care what it was, so long as it stopped me thinking. Taking drugs and alcohol helped me to get away from all this thinking. 

This obsession with drugs started with cannabis and ecstacy but soon it was anything we could get our hands on. Valliums, speed, poppers, gas - we'd even crush up my mates ADHD pills and smoke them... and it was all starting to effect my head.

Of course I was just a kid so I wasn't seeing the change in me, I was just living life. When you're a kid you're in auto-pilot mode, not really thinking - just doing. And I started getting a bit crazy.

It wasn't long before I was getting into serious trouble at school and got expelled for throwing a blade at someone - being sent to the pupil referral unit - I appealed it and waited for the appeal court date, luckily I managed to get back in.

I had friend who on a couple of occasions said things about younger girls, and I outright would tell him it was wrong. I just thought he was joking, or whatever. I didn't think he could actually mean it. The concept of getting with younger girls at this point was still a huge no-go, nothing I'd ever even consider.

For the next year or so, I continued to take drugs but got into a relationship with a good Christian girl who had recently moved to the town. I must have been 15 or turning 16. I worshipped the ground she walked on and it was the first (and maybe only) time I experienced something called love. I know I was young, people would say maybe too young to experience love, but I really did adore her. She wanted to wait until marriage before we had sex and I was willing to wait. I would have done anything for her. We fooled around and did some foreplay, but it wasn’t about sex at all - it was about love. She loved me and I loved her. Sex didn’t matter.

Maybe some part of me knew I was headed in the wrong direction but this girl was able to see the good in me so she was able to bring it out of me, too. My memories of being with her are all happy. I'd never do drugs in front of her, I'd save that for time with my mates. 

But I was still doing drugs - and it was effecting the relationship - she was completely drug free at this point - and it wasn’t long later until a lad from one of the villages was making homemade LSD and giving it to people around the town. But it wasn’t typical LSD, it was really weird stuff that made a lot of us mentally ill. People would agree it wasn't really LSD, it was something else, it was that potent. People were ending up in hospitals, jails, institutions from the results of taking it and at 15/16 years old, it was really taking its tole on my brain. My anxiety issues were amplified and paranoia started to become an issue. I became obsessed with things like time and spirals and started to become very introverted and paranoid. But of course, being a young drug addict and it being free, I returned to the stuff. One thing people taking it used to say when on it (and off it, too) was “what’s the answer?” But none of us really knew the question. It was all a very weird experience which stuck with me for a long time. I was convinced it had done something to my brain, and still am to be fair.

Then we started taking shrooms as well, and this other thing the lad was making which he called ‘2BC’ but from what I’ve read and heard about it, this wasn’t really 2BC we were taking either. 

Whenever you'd meet someone who'd taken this homemade LSD, you'd feel this immediate bond because you knew they'd been through what you'd been through. One day, someone came over and saw a picture on my wall I'd drew. "Did you take that acid?" He asked me, referring to the homemade LSD. We immediately clicked and he soon became a very close friend I would have for the next 20 years. 

Ever since that day, my anxiety and paranoia became a problem. I remember a time I became suspicious I was in the Truman show and I went downstairs to my Mum and asked her if there was anything she needed to tell me and that it was ok if there was, I cant remember exactly what I said. She assured me no, everything was fine.. I then went upstairs and sat for some time but it was still on my mind so I later returned and asked her again. I cant remember her exact response, I think she was just concerned how weird I was being, anyway eventually I let it go, I think it was probably the next day after I'd had some sleep. 

I also remember watching a documentary on Channel 4 about a woman with BDD I think it was. I became convinced I had it and my head started spinning with anxiety and I even wrote a letter to my Mum and took it downstairs to give to her. A couple days later I had to tell her not to worry, I'm ok and I was just overthinking things.

I also used to have this thing I'd do where I'd say to myself, for example, 'if this rain drop on the window passes this rain drop in the next 5 seconds, then xxxxx will happen/ wont happen' I knew basing the outcome of the future on something so trivial was strange, yet I'd continue to do it. I was still doing this way into my 20s.

The Christian girl I was with started to become fed up with my drug taking, not so much because of the drugs themselves but what it was doing to me, the person it was changing me into. I remember having a bad trip and she came round to look after me. She was definitely thinking about splitting up with me at this point.

We broke up not much later but after some time we were texting again and I told her I was getting off the drugs. 

That Christmas I remember going to a party whilst on the homemade LSD and she was there so I had some hope maybe we’d get back together. But when I went upstairs I saw her with one of the older lot. And she was on pills, too. Something I thought I'd never see. Broke my heart. That’s when I realised it was officially ‘over.’

Because I was younger than a lot of the people I hung around with, they'd pick on me a lot about pretty much everything I said. This started to make me overly conscious about everything that came out of my mouth and I started to become very quiet, especially in school. I started going into school telling myself to just stay as quiet as I could because everything I'd say I would over-analyse about whether I'd said the right thing. I was trying really hard to be 'cool'.

The relationship with my parents had completely deteriorated at this point and I felt like a complete disappointment to them, but I was just so lost in drugs. 

I remember that New Years being the first time I decided to try and pack everything in. The drugs, cigarettes, everything. I was on LSD of course at the time, not sure how long the attempt lasted, probably a few days. But it was the first time I realised drugs were starting to ruin me and I wanted to make a change. 23 years ago... 

Not long later I heard that the Christian girl was pregnant with this other guys child. This was really confusing for me. I was with her for a year or so and we never had sex but she’s with him for 5 minutes and they’ve got a child on the way. Killed me.

My drug use and drinking then spiralled out of control and I spent little to no time on preparing for GCSE’s. I got expelled for drug possession but then was let back in on a technicality. I was taking drugs in school, out of school. My mental health was gradually getting worse. 

Up until this point, I had never fought back against people who started on me. Then one day, some of the group who bullied a lot of people in my year came and started on me and a couple friends, calling us pill heads, smack heads etc. I'd had enough of getting shit from people at this point so I got up and smacked one and we had a scrap. I think that was the first time I'd ever fought back, and honestly, it felt good. 

The next day a couple of their friends came to the school and a gang of them beat us up, so I told the older lot that evening what had happened and they came to the school the next day and told them to leave us alone. And they did. It felt nice getting looked after and taken under their wing so I started to hang around with the older lot more. Good in some ways, bad in others. A couple of those guys are now lifers.

I was now getting into some petty crime and fights and there were people who were becoming ‘enemies’. I'd always tried to avoid these fights but had to stick up for myself. I’d spent so much time in my earlier years getting punched in the face that I felt like I had to start fighting. 

At this point I was getting a lot of attention from girls but anxiety was a huge issue. Anything that happened would be the result of a lot of drink and it wouldn’t turn into anything. Any potential relationships wouldn’t happen because of rejection or being too scared to make the move, and so my ongoing sexual relationship was me in a room masturbating whilst I avoided sober encounters at all costs. 

After managing to scrape through the last year of school, I went to college and the problem continued there. Any interest was defused by anxiety. I couldn’t get on with the studies either due to my drug use and my time there was cut short.

The psychedelic use ended and the group I was hanging with were mainly drinkers and pot smokers, we didn’t have the money for anything else. Now and then we’d do pills or speed. But it didn’t matter what I was taking, when I was alone I would always combine the highs with masturbation. 

I wanted a girlfriend so much. Someone I could spend time with and get away from the lifestyle I was living. But I didn’t know where to start, I was a hopeless drug addict who didn’t know how to tackle his addiction and was growing increasingly fearful of sexual encounters. 

Looking back later in life, I realised that the obsessing over my penis size, obsessing over drugs and obsessing over pornography in my earlier years was greatly fuelled by my OCD. And the fear to get a partner was exacerbated by my anxiety. I’m not excusing it with mental health issues but it would definitely explain a lot of the problems that were developing.

I would measure my penis in disappointment, sometimes pulling it whilst laying in bed trying to make it longer - I was really starting to resent it “why wasn’t I like everyone else?”

Not long later, the internet took off and this was when the problem really started. Access to drugs and hardcore pornography was easy and didn’t take any effort. Finding the courage to get with a girl was hard and when I did, I’d always be reminded of why I was so scared of it. So it always ended up with me back in a dark room masturbating - that was easy. And if I was on drugs, it would sometimes be for hours on end, until the drugs eventually ran out. 

But at this point the amount of pornography online was still fairly limited and the stuff I was looking at would be considered pretty tame by todays standards. It was getting worse though, and the further the strength of the pornography got pushed and the stronger the drugs I took, the problem was steadily turning from just a molehill into a mountain. 

As for my piers and the circles I was hanging in, everyone had gone downhill. People were dying, going to jail, becoming shadows of themselves. Especially the older lot. I was really starting to realise the detrimental effect drugs were having on the people I knew and loved. 

I must have been 17 when I got jumped and stabbed in the head with a broken bottle and stabbed in the arm with a scalpel or something. The doctor said if the bottle had been an inch closer to my temple then I could have died. It was the result of a mate going to someones house the night before with a bat, nothing to do with me specifically. Of course this wasn't enough for me to realise I had to change - my mates were my mates - I wasn't gonna drop them over this.  

Of course back then no one knew much about AA, NA, recovery, groups, meetings, etc. We never labeled things ‘depression’, ‘anxiety’, I hadn’t been diagnosed with OCD either. I didn’t know anything about addiction, and I had no real guidance, so I didn’t know what to do.

The drinking continued to escelate and I kept trying to quit but it seemed like a hopeless fight. And I was becoming more and more confused about the opposite sex. I could have really done with a good partner. But when you're a young alcoholic, attracting good girls is hard. 

A lot of things happened with girls in my youth that still bother me to this day. I was a young man who was very confused about sex, and I was only becoming more and more confused.

Because girls my age would reject me because of my size, I started to become attracted to slightly younger girls as well as girls my age. My feelings of sexual inadequacy were starting to widen my preferences - maybe the younger girls wouldn't reject me. 

Between the ages of 16-18 years old, I was going to a lot of teenage house parties and hanging around in parks drinking - but I'm not going to blame my actions on alcohol. Sometimes I crossed the line. I must have been 17 when a girl who was 15 started hanging around in our friend-group. She was my mates sisters friend. At first I didn't do anything but on one occasion we ended up having sex. This girl would later start dating a mutual friend and a comment would be made about my size.

There was also a house party where I had sex with another girl, she was friends with my sister so I assumed she was 16 but I was later told she was 15. This experience also resulted in rejection and a comment about my size was made some time later.

There was another house party where we were drinking with some 16 year olds, in my drunken stupidity I put my hand up a girls skirt and was later told of her age, she was just 13. 

A girl who was a friend of mine who was 16 was hanging around with another girl, who was 13. I kissed her on one occasion.

These four occasions are the only times I had any form of sexual relations with an underage girl, nothing whatsoever has happened since and I swear to God that is the truth. 

It was now the late 90s early 00s so I'd also started using chatrooms on and off and I remember once speaking to someone claiming to be 13 in a chat room who then told me they were police - giving me a link to a paysite to avoid prosecution. I immediately closed the tab and left the room - I remember it scaring the life out of me and was playing on my mind for a good while. I think a week must have passed and I determined it must have been a blackmailer rogue and didn't pay, but it was enough to put the fear of God into me. 

This only resurfaced in my mind recently when I was analysing everything that had happened in the past. After doing so much reflecting, things start coming back to you. I wish that one hadn't - I had my first scare over 20 years ago and yet here I am. 

I must have been about 19 when the teenage parties and park drinking stopped and it was mainly just my mates and me chilling at each others houses - but we were still getting into trouble - largely fueled by the drinking and drug use. A lot of petty crime and fighting, things like this. I'd been nicked a couple times, nothing severe. But I knew I had to sort my life out. So I started to really have a go at this thing - getting off the booze and drugs and changing my life.

But I realised very early on it was ‘all or nothing’ for me. And that ‘nothing’ was definitely the way to go. So I would try and quit time and time again, packing everything in, and called them ‘detoxes’. But my intention wasn’t really to just ‘detox’ - I wanted to do it for life. I wanted to get clean and sober and make a life for myself. Get a woman, get married, have kids. I hadn't fully given up on the plan I had as a child. I wanted the good life so much. I knew there must be someone out there who'd want me - not just stupid drunkenness at parties.

I remember someone calling drug use ‘using’ - I think it was a key worker or social worker. I thought ’using’ was just referring to heroin use. I didn’t know it meant all drugs. I really could have done with a recovery meeting back then, or rehab.. something. 

A year later I got stabbed in the back of the head a few times and again it was another call to get out of the lifestyle I was living. So again I tried to change and again I eventually failed.

Drug use and pornography were now just a part of daily life but it must have been around 18 or 19 when I realised the pornography was a huge part of the problem too and so this all became part of my attempts at improving - chucking pornography away and trying to avoid it as much as I could. My friends would never understand the detoxes, it was all just normal to them. Something they felt was just a part of life. No one else was really trying to change, whilst for me it was constantly on my mind - if I was drinking and drugging then I had to quit soon but when I'd quit I just didn't have the support I needed and would eventually fall back into it. I was still managing 1, 2, 3 months though. Pretty good, considering.

Around this age I unintentionally stumbled across some borderline material online, I revisited it a couple times. I was under the influence of speed, or maybe ecstacy. As I wasn't using many hard drugs at this point it was something I put down very quickly and wouldn't return to until many years later.

Unless I was on hard drugs, stupidness like this wouldn't happen. I never did it after a drink or a joint - because I knew it was wrong and could get me in trouble. But after a bunch of drugs, stupidness happens. I know some people will say "it's always the drugs" well, they're right - it always was the drugs. 

One thing I'd often do when trying to get clean and sober was change my number and get rid of peoples numbers. Not just dealers, but friends too. Whenever I'd make a solid attempt at quitting, I'd cut off anyone that I'd drink or take drugs with. This was hard, deleting peoples numbers you've been friends with for years but my need to stay away from all of the craziness and change my life was more important than friends.  

One of my old friends had been commited to Broadmoor and I recieved a call request but I even denied that. It was rough cutting people off I'd known for years, especially him - he might have needed me. But I was determined to move on with my life. These were the measures I was taking. I wanted to leave the past in the past.

I then managed to get back into college and was trying to learn a trade - Graphic Design and Illustration. The plan was to finish college and then escape the town - go to University. This would be my one-way ticket out of all the drama.

It was around this time when I realised the cannabis really didn’t agree with me and would send me into a paranoid state. This was the same for a lot of other people who’d taken the homemade LSD. It was really confusing for me why I’d still smoke it, because it would really mess with my head. It made it easier to quit for periods at a time but because so many people in my circles were smoking cannabis, sometimes I’d end up having some. Only to be reminded the places it would take me mentally. 

The same problem was at college and at Morrisons where I’d got a job. Quite a lot of interest from girls, and a lot of opportunities, but the fear would always override my courage and I would continue to go to where was safe - my room and some porn.

I did get into a relationship with a really nice girl, in the second year I think, her friend made it happen. She ‘match-made’ us. So there was no serious effort involved. We had a brief chat and arranged to meet again. It kind of fell into place quite easily. But she turned out to also be quite ‘anti-sex’. I think she’d had a bad experience, or something. Again, as I had with the Christian girl, I overlooked it because I really liked this girl. But I was around 19 or 20 with a young mans sex drive so by this point really wanted a partner who I could have a healthy sexual relationship with and eventually it fizzled out after time. 

I remember whilst being with her, I wouldn’t watch pornography. It felt like being disloyal. She brought something pure out of me which made me want to be a better man. But with hormones flying around all over the place, I really wanted some sex at this point. It’s a shame it had to end for that reason but it did.

Drug and alcohol use continued through college and comments would continue which created more fear and obsession about sexual inadecuacy, etc. Even my college tutor had some strange digs at me about it. 

I then got into another fight towards the end of college and sliced my right hand up on some glass which needed bandaging from the hospital and a splint. I nearly couldn’t finish the project but nothing was going to stop me from getting out of the town and away from the drama so I managed to finish it and got a place at Coventry University.

Then when I was between 19-20 a 15 year old flashed her breasts at me on cam. I remember afterwards how disgusted I was with myself for letting it happen. I was now going to uni, and this is happening. Nothing like this had happened before - nor since. From that day on I never cammed with an underage girl.

This also only resurfaced in my mind recently when I was analysing everything that had happened in the past. I said I'd write everything, so this is everything. For the next few years I would only ever watch pornography. 

Now I was going to uni, I really thought this was going to be my ticket out of the storm. Even though I'd been struggling with drugs and alcohol during my two years at college, I'd somehow managed to finish a two-year course at college. For someone who had flunked their GCSE's and first attempt at college, doing this two-year course was a huge thing for me. One of the main drives had been giving myself some opportunities and getting away from the town. And it had worked. 

My first two years there were difficult but I managed to make it through. I went through a lot of attempts at getting off of drugs and alcohol and abstaining from pornography. I would usually relapse when I returned to the town, but I was mainly just smoking cannabis sometimes and drinking. Being a student with a lack of money meant cocaine wasn’t a huge problem yet. I’d started to dabble with it but it hadn’t taken a hold of me. Just a couple lines with friends. And the whole pill and psychedelic scene had kind of died out for me at this point. 

University was a strange experience because I didn't fit in there, either. My small group were labelled 'chavs' and I'd still get into fights, even at University. I also sold cannabis during some of my time there which brought some trouble along with it. But I continued to stick to my studies, doing everything I could to get through. 

I remember counting the years I hadn’t had sex and I think at this point it had been about 3 years, maybe more. Then I’d think of all the sexual encounters I’d avoided. It bothered me how much I wanted a partner but was too scared to make the move. I just continued to hope one day it would come. 

I once plucked up the courage to invite a girl round to watch a film, she came round and we watched the film but nothing happened, too scared. Every opportunity seemed to go nowhere because of fear.  

Then I think it was the break before the third year when I first had a cocaine x masturbation x hardcore pornography binge. I had some money from a job I was working during the break. This was a huge high. The power of the cocaine combined with the pornography provided a whole new level of dopamine release. All of my money from the job was going on this new-found addiction and the start of a new problem was beginning. A problem that would eventually destroy my life. Completely avoiding sex with women as much as possible and hiding away with drugs and porn.

Anxiety, depression, OCD, feelings of sexual inadequacy and an addiction to hardcore pornography and hard drugs were now all combined into one and were creating a monster. A monster I was about to have a very long, tough battle with. 

But just as I’d done with school and college, I scraped through the third year of Uni but had developed a huge drinking problem. On one drunken night towards the end of my studying, I had a one night stand with a girl from my hometown who then became my partner. But it was a really toxic relationship full of arguments - she was really bad for me. She would pick fights all the time out of nowhere. I also suspected she was cheating but I wanted a partner so much I just stayed with her. 

The one plus from this relationship was she wasn't a drug user, so it kept me off the drugs for a time. But the plus didn't outweigh the negative which was that the relationship was turning very toxic. Eventually I had to break it off. 

So now I was back in my home town again with a drinking problem. Back to the drugs and alcohol and back to the wrong circles. Getting a job was hard too because of the record I’d got from petty crimes in my youth.

I eventually got a job at Vodafone and made some more attempts at quitting. Quitting was like a part of my life. Quit everything again, start everything again, round and round in circles.. seemed like it would never end. 

I then lost the job at Vodafone due to a CRB check and got involved with a group of friends who I would soon be selling cocaine with. I found it very difficult finding and keeping a job due to CRB checks. You can’t lose a drug dealing job due to a CRB check. So soon I was going to have access to a lot of cocaine, strong cocaine, and it was going to be a problem. And before I knew it I was snorting all of the cocaine I was supposed to be selling and spending hours upon hours masturbating and watching hardcore pornography. 

I would pick up my half ounce, divide it into wraps, send out the texts and sell some wraps. Then I’d tell myself “just one little line” and as soon as the cocaine hit me, something inside me would switch: the computer would get turned on and Google would get opened - and before I knew it, I would be sat there in the early hours of the morning with no cocaine, a blocked-up nose and a red-raw penis. 

Then I’d be short of money to pay up for the cocaine and would have to tick from somewhere else. Telling myself that I wouldn’t do it again. And a lot of the time I wouldn’t. But as soon as I’d have a beer - which being an alcoholic without support would be often - 1 beer would turn into 2, 3, 4 and a wrap would get opened. Bang - same thing happens again. 

Up until around this point sometimes I would be able to use with friends and spend some time with them before the urge to masturbate became too strong and I'd have to go home. But what was now happening was that literally the moment I'd hit the cocaine I'd immediately feel like I had to go to masturbate, so I'd hang about for a bit until I made up an excuse to leave.

This went on for some time. And again, during these times, sex presented itself. But I’d be too scared because of my fear of rejection so it would happen again. Avoid the sex, go home, snort cocaine, masturbate for hours. It was a very sad and lonely, pathetic existence. 

And every time I’d do it, I’d push the boundaries, so by this point it was very hardcore pornography. Very strong coke, lots of it and very hard pornography, and lots of it. The levels just kept being pushed and pushed because once I’d reach a certain point, I’d push it that little bit further. 

It must have been about this point that I downloaded a catalogue of extremely hard pornography. I'd seen bits of stuff before, but this was an entire catalogue of probably 100+ videos. 

In these scenes, they would simulate child pornography. The women would dress up much younger than they were and the scenes would be very extreme. Sometimes ages would be mentioned - young ages. Ages I'd never looked at in that way. 

It didn't sit well with me sober at first but when I was using drugs, I overlooked it. My moral compass on drugs was deteriorating.

Looking back now, I see how this was all warping my mind. But not just my drug-induced mind - my sober mind, too. 

I justified it because I wasn't doing it, I was watching it. But these young women were being treated like objects - and being treated badly, too. 

I remember after watching the extreme pornography simulating child pornography for so many years, thinking how I'd never actually looked at child pornography. Almost like I was proud I'd never crossed that line. Looking back now, it's like I was justifying what I was watching - it wasn't actual child pornography, so it was ok. I watched this stuff for years until I actually crossed the line. Little did I know at the time it was going to become the stepping-stone into illegal activity.

It wasn’t so much the act of sex itself in these videos but the shock factor, especially the dialogue. There was something about the cocaine mixed with this hardcore pornography that created a certain buzz in the brain that’s unexplainable - I was becoming obsessed with the depravity. I’d never look at women in the street the way I looked at them when they were on a screen in a hardcore pornography scene while I was off my head on Cocaine. And when I’d be speaking with them in real life, I’d feel like an imposter - if they knew about my problem, they’d never look at me in the same way again. I hated everything about this addiction, and it was tearing me apart inside. 

But by this point, I was hopelessly addicted to snorting cocaine and masturbating to hardcore pornography for hours and hours on end. Sometimes I’d even be at it for a day or two. Who do you talk to for advice? I couldn't even bring myself to confide in a friend, that’s how guilty and ashamed I was. I felt distant from everyone I knew. 

Then crack-cocaine entered the mix. Some of the lads in my group knew how to wash up the Cocaine with ammonia and create ‘Freebase’. The Cocaine we had was really strong so the result of the wash was extremely powerful. I smoked it with them a couple times and it blew my head off - it was like Cocaine x 1000. But I didn’t know how to wash it myself and avoided buying any street rock - I'd never made a link for that. I knew if I combined that with the hardcore pornography then I’d be in serious trouble. 

After some time, I became an absolute mess and really needed to get out of the nightmare I was in. It wasn’t long before things got really crazy selling drugs and a gang bust into the flat we were using and I got stabbed a couple times in a retaliation attack. I had to figure out a way to escape.

About a week later I was approached in the street by some fundraisers who I spoke to about their job and they explained how there were jobs available. Travelling the country and fundraising. You could do it for weeks on end, however long you wanted to until you needed a break. So I applied to a job there, was very honest about my record in the interview and they gave me the job. Great, finally a chance to get away from the madness again.

The job bothered my conscience though because I was working for a third party company. The more I learnt about it, the more it bothered me. I found out a lot of stuff about where the money was going and how it was being used. No one else seemed to be bothered much but it I always had this thing in the back of my mind - was I doing the right thing working for these guys? But I felt like I had no options - continue the job or go back home to the madness.

I spent about a year doing this job but there was a drinking culture amongst the fundraisers so staying off the drink was hard - I was still just about managing it for periods of time. Avoiding the Cannabis wasn’t a problem because by now I’d pretty much packed it in, whenever I did it it would mess with my head too much.

But I remember I did go home and smoke crack and heroin with a friend though, a couple times. But I wasn't combining it with porn at this point, it was just short sessions with a friend and he always got the drugs so I still didn't have a link for all that. Being sat with him for a short time meant I wasn't going on the computer, but my head wanted to. This was all making me realise how much I needed to stay away. So I wouldn't spend much longer than a week in town until I went back off to the job again. I then continued to work as much as I could to stay away - drugs and porn were slowly becoming a thing of the past.

There were some advances from girls but I continued to avoid it. There was one night when a colleague and me hooked up with a girl, but when I got my penis out she said "what am I supposed to do with that?" and laughed. That evening I could hear her and my colleague next door, it felt like they were doing it as loud as they could, just to rub it in. 

There was then a second time on this job I plucked up the courage to do something and experienced more rejection. It was difficult because there was a lot of sex going on amongst colleagues during this job but I wasn't getting any and on the two occasions I'd tried, I got rejected. 

Then one evening after a lot of drink, I had sex with a colleague and it led to a relationship. Not much later though, the company went bust and I had to return home, turning the relationship into long-distance and putting me back in the thick of things.

I continued to meet up with this girl when we could and spent some time together, trying to continue the relationship but it was on the ropes. Being back in the town, I’d returned to drinking. Same story with struggling on the job front, too. Then one day, out of the blue she said “doesn’t it bother you that you’ll never be able to satisfy a woman?” I cut the relationship short not much later and my drinking spiralled out of control.

I had now had years of rejection and underhanded comments, people mocking me and constantly obsessing over it. Every time something like this happened it was like a punch in the guts. It was becoming a bigger and bigger problem - I just wanted a good girl who would accept me for me.

I then became very overweight, the heaviest I’d been. I’d been insecure about my weight since I was a child, the only time I’d lost any was after drug binges and then I’d pile it back on again, plus more. So I decided to quit everything (again) and get in the gym.

As before, it was quitting everything; drugs, alcohol and cigarettes. Only this time I would get in the gym, too. And not just a bit here and there, I made sure I’d go in every day. Going in the shower and changing rooms bothered me so I usually used a cubicle to change and used the showers in the sauna and steam room with my shorts on.

There was a time the cubicles were full and I had to use the changing room and this lad looked at my penis and then looked at me smirking, there was so much glee in his eyes, like he'd caught me. This smirking from people really bothered me. 

Anyway, I did as I'd always done, change my number, cut off friends who I used drugs with, chuck any porn I had - anything that could possibly lead me back. Only this time I got a wall calendar too and every successful day I'd put an X on the board - one line for drugs and one line for smoking. This worked well because my OCD meant I wanted the calendar to be full of X's - I got obsessed with making sure it was and I started to do the best I'd ever done.

I spent a while doing this and lost a lot of weight, eating one meal a day, really healthy food - I went pescetarian, drinking a tonne of water, saunas, steam rooms, getting back into my art and design again. I felt super healthy with loads of clarity, drugs and porn didn’t interest me and things were on the up. I managed to get 7 months clean and sober and cigarette free.

I then managed to get a job lifeguarding and so I had everything ready for a new leaf. All I needed now was a girlfriend and maybe I could finally live the life I always wanted.

I remember a girl in the sauna once asking me if she’d see me about often, I think she was from Germany. She was European. It was clear she was interested but again my anxiety kept me from getting her number. I wasn't that bad at getting numbers, but it was everything that would follow from it that I was scared of. I remember beating myself up for the rest of the day wishing I just had it in me to fight the fear sober and not need a skin full of drink to try and muster up the confidence to take my trousers off.

There was a point during this health kick where I really felt like I'd mastered life. I felt so healthy, was in good shape, my mental health was great, I was being creative, was taking more pride in my appearance, being more mindful of what I said, things were good - I felt content. I didn't have a lot of money, had a minimum-wage job and was living back with my parents again, but that didn't matter - materially I was lacking but spiritually I was thriving. And I was happy with it. 

But the gym soon became an obsession and I started overdoing it and starving myself. Stupidness like having an apple to eat in two days. And I was running 7k a day. My legs were buckling. My OCD manifested itself in losing weight and I became so thin people thought I was abusing hard drugs. Which bothered me since I hadn’t touched so much as a cigarette in months. I was getting dizzy and lost balance sometimes because I was so malnourished and not eating whilst running for miles a day. My legs continued to ache and my body started breaking down. 

But I still got into work and did what had to be done. My boss was happy with me and no one mentioned my weight. Then one day the boss of my boss found out I had a record. Sacked again and no job.

I was in bits about losing this job and my mental health was all over the place because of not looking after myself. But I still had some hope in me and wasn’t giving up. I remember one day walking to town and started crying in the park, once I got into town, I walked into a pop-up shop on the high street selling clothing and offered to do some work for the guy there - explaining my problems to him about finding a job with my record. He said they weren’t looking for anyone but I gave him my number anyway and left it at that.

A few days later I was in Citizens Advice trying to find out what I could do about getting work and the guy from the shop called me and asked if I’d like to manage to shop. So I went over there and we had a chat, and he gave me the keys. I thought he was just a pop-up shop manager but it turned out he ran a big company and just happened to be in the shop on that day.

The pop-up shop was a temporary thing to see how it would do and if it went well then the shop would be fitted properly. I just had to prove I could run it and sell the stuff. Which I did, and after 3 months the shop got fitted and was due to be opened. I was now 7 months clean and sober and hadn’t looked at any pornography. 

But the day before, I was tired from all the hours I’d been working and needed something to keep me going, so I had a Red Bull. This raised my anxiety and I had a cigarette. Then after I got offered out for a beer - “1 pint then” I thought. Next day I woke up late to open the shop with a killer hangover, beating myself up about my millionth relapse and ruining all my hard work in one night. I'd even lost the shop keys. But I hadn’t looked at any pornography, I’d blacked out from being so drunk. So at least that door hadn’t been opened again. For the time being anyway. 

I got a locksmith to get me in the shop to open up and gave my boss a call. Luckily my boss let me off since I’d done so well and just told me not to let it happen again. So the shop opened. But I’d relapsed. So from then on I was constantly fighting my addiction again whilst managing to hold down the job. But I was nowhere near as bad as before. Still wanted to get a girlfriend, still no luck. I was talking to my ex on and off but nothing came of it, what she'd said to me the previous year had kind of killed it. 

Then one day I got drunk and got a girls number and the next day she came to a friends house and we did coke. We fooled around in the garden but once she rubbed my penis she suddenly wanted a taxi. More rejection. Later that evening I go home by myself with a bag of coke and the PC is getting turned on.

The next day a woman walked passed the shop and gave me a funny look. I immediately assumed it was the girls Mum. Looking back now I was obviously jumping the gun. This was the effect the drugs had taken on my brain after years of abuse. Constantly making wild assumptions and then later questioning myself. 

Then I started seeing a 16 year old, we had sex once or twice. One day I jokingly proposed a threesome with her friend. I was then told she was 15 at which point I didn't pursue it further.

Eventually the shop failed and was closed but I had a call not much later and was offered a job in Piccadilly, central London, managing the shop there. So I took it - another chance to get out of the madness. 

3 months I had been there in London and stayed clean and sober whilst running the shop and all was going well until some old friends from Uni passed the shop and invited me for a beer. Again: “1 beer then” and before I know it, I’m back on the drink. 

Things were getting silly with the drink and I’d started smoking a bit of cannabis again. Always being reminded of why I’d avoid it, because it completely messed my head up. After some black outs and paranoid episodes, I decided I needed to get sober and back in the gym soon and do what I’d done before so that it didn’t get out of hand. I still hadn’t touched any cocaine and was making sure I wouldn’t find a link in London, because as soon as I had it available, I knew it would be an issue. 

But being in Soho with a drinking problem meant this wouldn't last long. Soon I was taking a bit of cocaine again and started to see prostitutes. I would even get anxiety about satisying them, and on a couple of occasions things happened that just continued to mess with my head. I was even getting rejection in the red light district.

Some of the girls were really nice girls though. I even had a thing for one of them. But this was all creating a new problem, so I decided to try and get back on the straight and narrow. 

I must have been sober for some time and had lost some weight again, I was getting some confidence back. But I wondered how long it could last for. In the past, I’d done this before but then would obsess about it, overtrain, get stressed and then something would trigger a relapse and then I'd put the weight on again. This had all in me started to turn into a viscous cycle. One way or another I’d fail.

Then one day a girl came into the shop I was managing and showed interest in me and so I plucked up the courage to ask for her number. That evening we spoke and she explained how she was Christian. At this point I really felt like I needed some guidance from somewhere because my million attempts at fixing my life had always ended up in pieces one way or another. I’d been brought up Atheist and was in no way, shape or form ‘Christian’ but I was willing to start praying and going to church because that’s how much I needed help. I was literally submitting myself to something I didn’t believe in because I was so desperate to fix my life and stay in London and away from my hometown because I knew if I ended up going back there, absolutely anything could happen. I couldn’t risk ending up back there again. 

When I found out she was 17 I was surprised, she looked and dressed older and everyone in the shop assumed she was older, too. But she was a really nice girl, there was nothing perverse about this relationship. 

She would be the first person to introduce me to gospel music; Fred Hammond, Marvin Sapp, amongst others. This music spoke to me on so many levels, and still does to this day. 'I Will Find A Way' and 'Please Dont Pass Me By' by Fred Hammond - two of my favourites. 

I remember the first song I found on Youtube that I listened to time and time again was William McDowell 'I Give Myself Away' the second verse says 'take my heart, take my life as a living sacrifice' - 10 years later now and I finally am.

My girlfriend’s family didn’t initially take a liking to me, the main issue being I was much older. She was 17 and I was 27. That was all they knew. But her uncle reached out to me and invited me to his church and we soon became friends. Not long later, once he approved, things were good.

Being clean and sober in the past had always been a very lonely place for me. Everyone I knew was either a drug addict or alcoholic so when I’d get clean and sober, all my free time would be spent alone. I didn’t know how to make friends without drink or drugs. Most people would go to the pub but obviously I couldn’t do that. And I didn’t know about recovery groups. The only person I’d really have healthy conversations with was my Mum. But when I went to church with her uncle, I met people who were on the same wave length as me. They knew the importance of looking after yourself and not drinking or drugging, and they all wanted the best for each other. It was the healthiest environment I’d ever been in. Everyone I met welcomed me with so much love.

It was a big church in London on Tottenham Court Road. The atmosphere was amazing. A lot of the songs spoke to me because they were about being broken and needing help - looking for help from something higher. The preachers gave powerful talks about hope and strength, bravery, courage, peace, love - all the good stuff. And afterwards we’d go for meals and talk - and not drink! It was everything I needed.

I read my Bible a bit, and prayed a lot. I felt like I’d finally found what I’d been looking for for so long. God seemed to be answering some prayers and my girlfriend was really helping me along the way, as was her uncle. Again, like the other Christian girl years before, she believed in sex after marriage and again, I agreed to wait because I loved her.

I was now clean and sober and getting in the gym and it didn't even feel like hard work doing it. I really felt like I was starting to find myself. God was helping me through it all. Every morning when I walked passed the church by Trafalgar Square I'd go in to pray. And I found out a lot of my colleagues were Christian so I'd talk with them about it, too. I really felt like I was finally in the right place. 

But there was so much stuff about the Bible I had problems with, particularly the Old Testament. I was asking questions and not really getting the answers I needed. I started looking online for answers from different places and kept being reminded of all the reasons I was atheist in the first place. But I needed this so badly.. I overlooked it and carried on doing what had been helping; going to church, praying, and reading the scriptures that helped me and spoke to me.

One thing that came between me and some of my Christian friends was my strong belief in determinism (I'm not sure I even knew what it was called at the time, but the philosophy was a belief I had) so believing that anyone who isn’t Christian goes to hell had never made sense to me. There were good people in this world who had never hurt a soul and had lived a very honest and loving life, yet they go to hell? How is that right? So many things just didn’t sit well with me.

I had a business I was running on the side selling baseball caps (ASD), and I'd been putting positive logos on some of them 'TRUST IN GOD' was one. But I was really starting to wonder if I even did.

I then started obsessing about this inner conflict, it was really driving me mad - trying to believe in God so hard and just not being able to do it. Always questioning and analysing everything about it. 

Eventually, after trying to convince myself for so long to believe that Jesus had definitely existed and that the Bible was the literal word of God, and failing, my faith started to deteriorate and the relationship with my girlfriend started to fall apart. And along with this came drinking again. Man, I wish that had never happened. I wish I had made it work in my head somehow. 

After a long night on the drink I ended up in a chat room. But I wasn’t talking to people about anything paedophilic, at this point I hadn’t crossed that boundary. Years ago in my teens I had spoken to some underage girls but I had never had  perverted conversations with other men. On this occasion I was looking for someone to hook up with. I am not homosexual but after a tonne of drink I met up with someone who happened to be local in London and experimented. It was a very brief and one-off moment but it happened. I had never met up with anyone before and would never meet up with anyone again. 

After a bit of a struggle with the drink I jumped back in the gym and focussed on that again. But again I obsessed with it and was going 2, sometimes 3 times a day. I lost a lot of weight again but there was no way I could maintain it. Being so overtrained I knew sooner or later something would go wrong. 

Then one day the girl I was with when we were both 13 contacted me on Facebook after 15 years of not seeing or hearing from her and said she’d had a dream about me, I could tell she was interested and she came to London and we had a Chinese. This was then followed by wine and my 2 or 3 months on the wagon was again over. 

But she wanted to be with me, and we got along really well. Like, we really clicked. I thought maybe I’d found ‘the one’ - it seemed like the end to some kind of beautiful story - my first would end up being my last, and maybe the hunt for love was over.

Everything seemed cool, but one day she asked if it bothered me that we’d never have sex with anyone else again. It didn’t actually bother me but this question made it clear she did. So I soon concluded I wasn't satisfying her. Maybe it wasn’t going to be as perfect as I’d hoped.

It was only weeks after our first meet where she told me she’d become pregnant, whatsapping me a photo of a positive test. I was happy to stay with her and have the child together. Things weren’t perfect but I loved her and wanted to do everything I could to make it work.

Then the company I was working for closed the shop due to lack of trade and I was out of a job. She had a bit of a go at me about this and I said I’d get a new job asap. Her hormones were all over the place of course due to being pregnant and she then started getting a bit crazy. Not before long she was splitting up with me and seeing someone I knew from town whilst pregnant with my child. 

An old friend from town then told me she’d been trying for a child with her previous partner for years and they’d done everything they could to have a child. He suggested she’d kind of ‘used’ me to get pregnant, knowing I was in London with a good job, and then moved on as soon as she could. This of course was a bit of a kick in the teeth but I told myself he was wrong and just tried to keep things civil with her while she was pregnant. Maybe we’d resolve things and maybe she’d take me back.

Obviously I soon turned to the drink again, blacked out and woke up on the other side of London. Cant remember how I got home but I realised very quickly I needed to snap out of this depression and not end up back in my home town. I tried really hard to get a new job in London before I ran out of money so that I wouldn’t have to return home but that failed and again I found myself packing my stuff together and going back to the place I’d tried to escape from for my whole life. 

When I got back, the crack scene was rife in my town and a few of my friends were deep in addiction. After losing everything in London and now expecting a child with my ex, depression set in and I was soon smoking crack. This was when my cross-addiction of drugs and pornography restarted again - things were now getting out of hand and I was going to places I hadn’t been previously. The biggest change in my activity here was going into chat rooms. I’d been in them before but not like this - the conversation was now taking a step into a new world - pushing the boundaries to a whole new level. 

The thing about my using at this point was that it was never consecutive. I would have a binge, regret it, try to quit and then eat a load of food, comfort eating to try and make myself feel better, and then eventually fall off and binge again. So I'd actually be putting on weight instead of losing it. This had always happened - sober I had a problem with food and drunk I had a problem with drugs. So again I put on weight and again I tried to get clean and sober. But in the past I had always done it without any gym supplements. After doing some research online, I discovered the world of pre-workout supplements, and was about to find myself with a whole new addiction.

I purchased a supplement called Jack3d 3-D (the original version, now banned) and immediately found myself overtraining. In the space of a few weeks I'd lost a tonne of weight and was feeling better about my appearance again but with the overtraining and a new addiction to a new stimulant drug, I was only destined to fall off the rails again sooner or later.

This constant cycle just seemed to continue, I'd now been fighting it for years. I was still trying to get clean and sober and I just kept failing time and time again.

I hadn’t been back for long until I started seeing a new girl who I used to go to college with. We got along well and spent one evening together drinking, but once we discovered we both had a cocaine habit, we started using cocaine together.

I then managed to get a job at Gucci which funded the habit and soon we would be using cocaine - a lot. It was an unhealthy relationship but it kept me away from my computer. All my time was spent doing cocaine with her. I also started selling some to fund the habit.

The relationship quickly went from unhealthy to really toxic and I became more and more convinced she was being unfaithful. She had also started stealing from me and we grew further and further apart. I thought sooner or later we’d part ways but then she got pregnant. I now had two children on the way. 

During her pregnancy we were in and out of the relationship and we did everything we could to make it work. It wasn’t long before my ex had my eldest and my partner at the time had my youngest. I now had two children and was trying to see both of them as much as I could whilst fighting addiction.

Sometimes they'd come round or I'd go over and be on a huge comedown and couldn't be a Dad. This was killing me inside. I wanted so bad to be a good Dad but I was just too lost in addiction. One day someone close to me called me a piece of shit and I remember shouting "you think I don't know that?" - that's exactly what I felt like - a piece of shit. They were right.

I'd managed to get a couple jobs since I left London but was now starting to focus on a new business selling clothing, MAB (Make a Brand) using contacts I'd met from working in the industry. It picked up momentum really quickly and the money started rolling in. It was the last thing I needed as my drug habit was getting further out of control. I was making a lot of money, but I was spending a tonne of it on drugs, too. 

It wasn’t long before my youngest daughters mother and me started smoking crack together and this was when things really got out of control. We were smoking a tonne of the stuff and our relationship got really toxic. I was convinced she was sleeping with everyone and this was when I started to experience crack psychosis. Thinking people are hiding in different rooms talking, calling her from outside, hiding in the shed, texting her, etc.

Despite all the toxicity in our relationship, we kept getting back together. It would continue to be an 'on and off' relationship for the next year or so.

It must have been around this time that a friend taught me how to wash up freebase using cocaine and ammonia. A really strong form of crack. When I hit this stuff, things got dark. This was when my problems just started getting bigger and bigger. 

Crack is evil stuff. When it gets a grip of you, you're in trouble. And once I had constant access to it, I was. I had made a conscious decision my whole life not to get a number for a dealer or learn how to wash up because I knew it would end in tears. But now I was getting numbers for dealers and had learnt how to wash up, plus I had money coming in. It was very quickly destroying my soul and I was becoming even more lost than I ever had been.

For a long time I left heroin alone. I know it sounds crazy, but I wish I hadn't. I needed something to bring me down. Not coming down meant I kept on going. I was addicted to the high and not the low. Being high on crack all the time and never coming down was having a serious effect on my brain.

After going from property to property, I was now back in my parents house with a savage crack addiction and a tonne of money, working some of the time and smoking for the rest of it. When I was smoking, I was pushing the boundaries further and further. Every time I would have a blow-out, I’d wake up the next day beating myself up - I felt like a piece of shit because of where the crack was taking me and felt like an idiot for blowing so much money. I was trying to build a business but it wasn’t building because I was smoking everything I’d built. 

At this point, the main places I was going to were pornography, chat rooms and NN sites. Everything was still legal but it was really starting to have an effect on my soul. I would try my hardest to just look at pornography but when I had strong enough crack or a big enough pipe, the floodgates would be opened and I would lose all sense of control. This would then lead to the following day where I would feel a sense of shame and guilt from what I had done the previous night.

Looking back now I can see I was justifying my actions through drug use. I knew where I'd possibly end up but yet I still returned. I believe I was in some form of denial. 

But I was still constantly fighting my addiction whilst still chasing the ultimate high. The craziest thing about it was that none of it was even seeming to work anymore, yet I’d still end up drinking, which would lead to the drugs, which would lead to the computer. 

Extreme paranoia was now starting to become a huge problem for me as well and so a lot of the time I would just be sat frozen in a dark room with a flaccid penis constantly thinking people are walking up the stairs or standing by the door whilst I was trying to get aroused, for hours. Sometimes I would spend the entire time with a flaccid penis - it was complete insanity that I was constantly finding myself in this state but then still returning to it, it made absolutely no sense. 

It was about this time that I was first invited to an NA meeting. I’d heard about meetings before but my response had always been that me meeting more addicts would surely be a bad thing. But I was now starting to reach desperation and had to start trying to get help, so I went to a meeting.

The meeting went well but it was only once or twice a week which wasn’t enough. They were also small meetings so not many people were there to reach out to. I was also a bit confused by the whole God thing which was mentioned a lot in meetings. I continued to go for some time but it just wasn’t enough to battle the monster I was fighting.

I remember one day I decided to get a tattoo on my arm to mark the first day of the rest of my life - I was going to quit, again. 23.3.15 - a week later I'm drinking vodka and before I know it I'm using again.

I did continue to listen to gospel music sometimes and was still trying to connect but it just wasn't really happening. But I knew God had worked for me in the past, maybe it would work for me again.

Then one evening I asked for a sign and didn't get it. I sat there and prayed and prayed and said "come on God, just something, one thing to show me you exist" I did this for a good ten minutes... nothing. I made the decision then and there God didn't exist. Worst decision I ever made. This was long before I was told about how you should never test God.

It was so painful knowing that if I could beat the drugs, then I could beat the whole thing. I still only ever crossed boundaries going into chat rooms and looking at NN sites etc when I was under the influence, and only ever have, bar the two occurrences that would happen years later. 

It must have been around this time that I started to make solid attempts to abstain from masturbation. But masturbation and the drugs were now so powerfully linked that my urge to masturbate was combined with an urge to take drugs and drink. The craziest part was sometimes I would abstain from masturbation for some time and then feel an urge to drink and buy drugs, but then I’d masturbate and the urge to drink and buy drugs would leave me. This was how powerful the link between them all had become - it was just one big complicated and complex mess that was really starting to break me down psychologically. I just wish I'd have known there was help available for the problem I had.

When I realised the whole thing was all stemming from my sex drive which at the time was still quite strong, being in my late 20’s, I remember thinking to myself if I didn’t have a sex drive, none of this would be a problem. The entire thing was being caused by my penis. I used to resent it for being so small, now I was resenting it because of all the stupidness I was doing. If I had been offered a way to get rid of my sex drive I probably would have taken it. It was the single one thing holding me back from having a happy life. 

Despite all this trouble, I was still managing to build my business and make good money. Good enough money to keep going, anyway. Sometimes I would spend too much on drugs but then a big sale would come in and keep everything going. When I started getting huge orders and making good money for doing a small amount of work, the problem just continued. I would have probably been in a better situation if the business would have gone bust because then I wouldn’t have had any money and would have been able to focus on fixing myself but all of my focus was going into the business. I was either working or taking drugs the whole time. 

Because my email address was getting so many emails, I would have to sit for the entire day replying to them, from the moment I got up until it was time for bed. Sometimes I'd have to do this for a few days. I quoted most things on a job-by-job basis and made a lot of calls to customers, building rapport and such. Because I was good at sales, I was able to get a lot of customers. But all of this was taking too much of my time and was running me down, so eventually I'd drink, then I'd binge. If I binged for even just a day then I'd have to spend a couple days catching up. I was burning the candle at both ends and didn't have the structure or time to train someone. I wasn't now only fighting the drugs, I was fighting my email inbox, too.

I felt like the worst Dad in the world. When they were born I swore I’d quit and when their first birthdays came, I swore I would quit. But I was swearing I’d quit every week. It was tearing me apart and I didn’t know what to do. But I made the promise to myself I would never let them see me drink, a promise that I would keep for a very long time.

There was an occasion when a business associate made a huge error which cost me a few grand. It nearly ruined the business but I was just about able to scrape through. Part of me wishes it would have just ruined the business so I could focus on myself and get the help I really needed.

My paranoia was also now starting to get worse from the drugs and sleep deprivation and the legality of my internet usage was starting to become blurred. I was crossing new lines. This was a big problem for me, boundaries were constantly being pushed and pushed. But they were being pushed so gradually that it wasn’t even like I was aware of it, it was just this really slow and steady increase that I wasn’t consciously doing, but it was happening. When you spend hour upon hour taking cocaine and smoking crack whilst masturbating on the internet, that’s what happens. But still, none of it was working, it was like I was chasing some high that didn’t actually exist. I’d never wake up the next day thinking I’d had a good time, I’d wake up wishing I was dead. It was hell.

The things that I've said and done on the computer during my using are abhorent, disgusting, discraceful, deplorable.. you name a way to describe evil - that was me on crack.. and most would say unforgivable, too. And I completely understand why people would say that. 

There were lines I crossed on crack that I would still never cross sober. But the more and more drugs I used and the more and more I pushed the boundaries, some of the evil that entered the room on drugs started to enter me when I was sober. I told myself as long as I suppress it sober, it's not me. As long as I'm not on a computer with drugs, it's not me. But it was gradually changing me, until it got to the point I'd look in the mirror and didn't even know who I was anymore. 

Because I would only engage in paedophilic behaviour online when I was using hard drugs, I convinced myself that "I wasn't as bad as the others" - I told myself it wasn't really 'me' - it was just 'me on drugs'. I have gone into more depth about this at the end of my confession in the 'safety vs morality' part.

Despite all this boundary pushing, I never met with paedophiles, I never cammed with girls, I never groomed girls. The majority of it was dialogue, NN images and Youtube videos. Depraved dialogue was the main one, under the influece I had some twisted fascination with it. I don't know why, but that became my 'thing'.

I must make it absolutely clear now before I go further - that I never met up with anyone I spoke to in chat rooms apart from the one guy in London when I experimented homosexually. 

I had always considered myself to have a good soul. I had always had a deep conscience - a lot of things that didn't bother other people bothered me - about ethics, morality. I loved movies but wasn't into horror films, and when I'd watch certain documentaries, I'd have to turn them off. I remember watching a documentary and something in it was said that messed my head up for days. But now I had this darkness inside of me, a darkness I didn't understand or want. 

I was now feeling more and more distant from friends and family. I had this huge battle I was fighting and no one to speak to about it. I was constantly run down and depressed whilst trying to run a business and see the kids, and had no where to turn for help with my addiction. 

It must have been about this time when some gossip started to go around town about me. The stress had got too much and I had confided in a friend who then spilt the beans. It wasn’t long before people got talking. I did as much damage limitation as I could and just hoped nothing like it would happen again.

I had considered this person a good friend and felt if I was completely honest with him, I'd be ok. Keeping all of this to myself wasn't helping things, so I needed to get it off my chest. He assured me it would go no further but then of course it did. Then when I accused him, he denied it. This whole thing was making me more and more lonely. Even close friends were now turning against me.

Then one day I woke up after a binge and went to get a sleeping pill from my mums room. I looked out of the window and could see a police officer radioing in and facing the house. I assumed he must have knocked the door, had waited for an answer, not got one and then crossed the road to look up and see if there was any activity in the windows. I must have not heard the knock, I thought. I assumed this was something to do with me and my anxiety levels shot through the roof. This was the first start of what would turn into years and years of constant extreme paranoia regarding the police and my internet usage.

I can’t remember exactly what I did on this occasion but every time something like this would happen, I would wipe, throw away or destroy the technology and the whole event would trigger a long-term wait for the police, expecting them to knock the door at any moment. Every time the door would knock I would dread it being the police. I would be convinced my phone was being tapped and the internet was being monitored and would do everything I could do to keep myself safe. I would keep this up for some time but the stress would lead to a drink and then drugs and then the whole thing would happen all over again, throwing away the technology, becoming extremely paranoid and constantly expecting a knock. It was wreaking absolute havoc on my mental health and completely breaking me down whilst I continued to try and run a business and be a really shit dad. It was killing me. 

But I would still manage short amounts of time where I wouldn’t drink or use drugs. It was incredibly hard because my mental health was so poor and paranoia was so high that naturally I wanted to drink. But the fear was keeping me clean and sober. I would think to myself “if the police don’t turn up in the next xxxxxx weeks, then I can assume I’m safe and then I’m never going back to it again” but sure enough, one way or another, the stress would get too much and I’d end up doing it again. I literally never felt safe and was constantly waiting for the knock. 

Things were constantly triggering my paranoia, too. All it would take would be to see a police officer outside and I’d think it was something to do with me. And because I was smoking so much crack and was constantly in a paranoid state, my paranoia eventually started getting delusional even when I wasn’t smoking crack. One evening I had looked out the side window of the house and seen some officers in a car down the road and as soon as I spotted them, the car pulled out and took off. I immediately jumped to the conclusion that they had some sort of scanning device that was scanning the house. Months later when no one had knocked the door, I realised it had been a delusion. More things like this were starting to happen the more crack I smoked.  

2016

Then I remember - it must have been in 2016. I was sitting in the conservatory with my daughter who was 2 at the time, thinking about how much of a state I was in, wishing I knew what to do. Out of nowhere, she randomly walks up to a book case full of books and picks up a Bible and hands it to me. I had lost my faith in London but this felt like a sign - I needed to get back in touch with God before it all went seriously wrong. 

But it wasn't enough, my belief in God was all over the place, so I went a different route - and started to look for a spiritual answer to all my problems by listening to New Age teachers and such - people speaking about spirituality from a different perspective; pineal glands, frequencies, you know the stuff. I also became interested in allegorical interpretations of the Bible rather than the literal. My relationship with God was complicated but perhaps there was another way I could get answers from the universe. So I listened to some stuff online and did some meditations, even guided meditations to help me stop smoking, stuff like this.

I probably made some weak attempt at quitting, but I was always making attempts. That's what my life was all about, trying to quit. Always had been. Unfortunately none of this was enough to make any real change.

But sometimes, in my desperation, I would pray. Even though I was completely confused by the concept of God, I was still praying. Ever since London, whenever things got rough, I was reaching out to God. 

I really should have found a local church or got back to NA, but I didn't. I was putting all of myself into the business and then when I got weak, I slipped and had a binge. I really wish I got back into NA or went to church but I just told myself I didn’t have the time and the weakness of my faith wasn’t helping, either - work was the priority. 

I was now lost in this constant cycle of madness that I felt powerless to. The same thing was happening over and over again; work, work, work, get stressed, have a drink, get drugs, then the madness would ensue and I’d wake up staring at the ceiling again wondering when this would ever end. 

Then of course I'd put on weight, get some pre-workout supplements, overtrain, get stressed, have a drink, get drugs, then it would happen all over again. The pre-workout supplements were a whole new problem I wish I'd never discovered. I tried to do it like I'd done it before - naturally with no supplements - but when I did it before I'd always get frustrated it was taking too long and overtrain. You cant overtrain when you're trying to run a business, you need to be on the ball. I should have tried to just lose the weight gradually but impatience was always a problem for me. 

And so again I'd work, again I'd get stressed, and again I'd relapse, one way or another. It felt like this had happened a million times now. Sooner or later this was going to all end in tears. And soon it would.

Destroying technology and buying new technology was now a constant thing, and every time I’d destroy laptops or phones, I’d buy a new one and swear I’d never go back to it again. Then something would stress me out and I would. This was starting to get expensive but because I had so much money I was still managing to keep things going, even after huge cocaine and crack binges and constantly buying new smart phones. Me with a mountain of money and this huge cross-addiction I’d created was the worst possible combination I could have ever ended up with. 

I must make it absolutely clear here that everything I ever said online was always complete fantasy. None of it was real.

The guilt and shame was also increasing because the things I was saying were becoming more and more depraved. I would wake up the following day in disbelief at what I was saying. I didn't even think I had the capacity to say such things. 

There were times I'd start to sober up towards the end when I ran out of drugs and these were the worst moments. Reality would kick in and I'd actually see with some sort of clarity what I was doing. I felt like such a grotty little man.

I didn't actually look at a lot of child pornography, as I said before, most of it was dialogue. The worst part was the next day, I couldn't remember everything I said but a lot of what I could made me feel sick. Then I'd see some of the girls in the street that were some of the ages I was talking about and couldn't believe I'd said these things about them. It was so confusing.

This is what worries me the most, I cant remember everything I said but I know its going to be really dark. Thinking about it all in my sober mind really messes with my head. I know I said some really messed up stuff, of what I can remember.

The business was still running - a blessing and a curse - the email address was getting more interest from customers and I was making more money. It felt so wrong to me that I was running this really good business and making all these good contacts but then I had this huge dark secret that was destroying me inside. Constantly expecting it to all go wrong and lose the business. And that’s exactly what was about to happen.

Up until now, the cocaine and crack would make me think people were talking next-door or standing by my door listening or that my Dad had drilled a small hole in the door and was spying through it, things like this. But I was now so unwell that it was taking my paranoia to new levels. I remember one morning I thought people were talking by my window, even though it was 2 stories up. Unless they were literally hanging off the roof, it would be impossible for this to happen but in my mind it seemed completely rational. Sometimes I would spend an hour or two just completely frozen in my room trying to listen out for sounds. The entire binge would be absolute insanity and a hellish experience. Yet it continued to happen. It was sending me mad.

Then one day, I used a Gmail account to send some child pornography of a 6 year old to myself so I could retrieve it on a different machine - I remember later going to check my email and suddenly this page came up saying that the email address had closed down due to some breach of terms. I realised exactly what must have happened but tried to tell myself I was wrong. I read through the terms and then I think I Googled something about it and eventually came to the conclusion that I’d just completely fucked up. Now I was really praying.

I literally remember praying about this, begging God to help me, to just do something, anything, take this thing from me so I never go back to it again. It was like a terrible disease that was eating me up inside and I just wanted it to leave me. 

I’d never been so sure in my life that this was the time I’d pushed it too far. I’d convinced myself before, but this was concrete. My email address had literally been shut down.

But I had to try and keep running the business so I set up a new email and carried on trading. I remember a business associate asking what had happened to the email and me having to make something up. I was now having to lie to people about a business email address closing whilst waiting for a knock and trying to run the business at the same time. 

I’m really unsure of the chronology of things around this time because this recent scare had really sent me off the rails and my mental health was all over the shop, but at some point soon after I had a binge and was looking at pornography when what looked like a scanning bar of some sort was running up and down the screen. This triggered a crack-induced episode which had me on the run around the country. I cant remember the route I took but I know I ended up in a hotel in Newcastle. After I’d slept, I woke up and realised I’d just lost the plot. I think I must have returned home the following day or two days later. 

Things were now getting beyond ridiculous; I’d had a huge scare, lost my email address, money was now starting to actually become an issue with the business and I’d gone on some crazy drug-induced run around the country, leaving everything behind me. Something had to change. 

Then I had another episode where I was convinced police were in the house, an officer in each room. I spent hours shouting at officers from my room who weren't even there and thought the army had arrived outside, I was really losing it. Eventually I went into one room, no officer. Checked the other rooms, no officers. No one outside. It was all in my head.

Not long after I remember hearing a neaumatic drill outside and thinking it was unhappy customers trying to drill into the house. I then had another crack-induced episode where I ended up in Edinburgh. Paranoid delusions were now starting to become a thing of life. 

I hadn’t been back in Banbury for long until I realised I needed to get away, and soon - having access to all these drugs was the biggest problem for me. If I cut off my supply, then I knew I would have to go out of my way to find some. So I moved to a property in Forest Gate which was just down the street from a factory I was outsourcing from. By now there had been no visit from the police so I thought I was ok. Everything was looking on the up - I was in Forest Gate with no numbers for drugs, the business was running smoothly again and it didn’t look like the police were going to arrive - it had been about 3 months since the scare and I had a laptop and phone that I hadn't done anything on. Maybe things would finally start going right for a change. It felt like maybe God had answered my prayers. But I was wrong - my life was only about to get worse.

After living in Forest Gate for some time, I recieved a call from my Dad who said that the police had been to the house and the factory regarding a child pornography upload that had happened 4 months previous on the home IP. They had taken all the tech in the house. I immediately knew it must be about the Gmail account as around 4 months had passed since then. He gave me a number of an officer, Paul Reece, who I then called not much later and arranged to meet him in Aylesbury for an interview.

Then my business associate at the factory called me saying the police had been there. But they were plain clothed officers just looking for me, no mention of why. So I had to make up some story about it being something regarding some friends because he knew I had been involved in crime in the past, and the last thing I needed was people in London knowing what was going on with me.

In a matter of seconds I went from having some sort of hope I could finally move on with my life to now having this come up from what I was hoping I could leave in the past. I had managed a few months without doing anything stupid and just hoped there was some way I could still get away with it. 'Deny, deny, deny' was the plan.

Gossip spread round my hometown quickly and I was doing my best to cool things down but this one was too big to contain. Not before long pretty much everyone had heard the news and Chinese whispers were in full effect. 

A week or so later I travelled to Aylesbury and did the police interview and lied my way through it. I gave them all my tech as requested - I wasn't worried about that because I knew it was all clean and nothing had been done on it. I was then bailed whilst they continued the investigation. The officer gave me a 'stop now' card, I think it was called. For people with a problem. I wish I could have gone to the site but from here on I would be too scared to go for any help online because I knew it would make me look guilty if they were monitoring.

This was basically the start of the end of my life. Looking back now I wish I'd have just fessed up, then I could have got help. But I was trying to save everyone. I had two kids who I was trying to be a Dad to - I didn't want to have to have supervised contact and all of that. And I didn't want my parents to have to deal with the shame. I was praying this thing would just go away and I could tell people the police made a mistake, brush it under the rug and just try and have some sort of normal life.

Moments after leaving the police station depression and anxiety immediately set in deeper than ever before and I completely fell off the rails. This is how bad it had got - I had literally just been arrested and bailed and went straight to the drink and with the drink came the drugs and with the drugs came the binges. I wasn't even able to manage the business any longer. I left it in the hands of my receptionist and a friend who tried to run it as best as they could. But they hadn't had any training and lots of errors started to be made, upsetting customers and rapidly losing money.

And all my business associates and customers were wondering where I was, so I had to constantly make excuses. It was all falling apart very quickly. And not only was the business losing money, I was spending it, too. Drinking and binging myself to death. I was doing everything I could to stop the drinking but the stress of everything that was going on was just too much. I could see the business was hanging from a thread but I was just too lost - I'd never wanted to die so much. 

I wasn't even really alive, just existing. Things were so dark at this point. I couldn't make sense of what was going on. I remember thinking, if there was a suicide button on me I would have pushed it a million times by now. If I had a gun I'd be gone. But having to plan it all would give me time to talk myself out of it - I had a family I dearly loved. Their hearts felt distant from me at the time but mine was still so close to theirs. 

After some time, my business associate in Forest Gate said he knew a guy with a flat at a good price in Essex. I knew I had to pull myself together and get back to London to try and save the business before it completely fell apart. And I had no contacts in East London and Essex for drugs so I thought as long as I stayed in London and didn't get a link, maybe I'd be ok. So I packed up my stuff and moved to Goodmayes in Essex, which was a short train ride to the factory in Forest Gate.

When I got to London, I made my apologies to my business associates and customers for being so distant and neglecting them and the business and started to get back to work. I employed a guy to do the factory work whilst I stayed at the flat a lot of the time trying to pull things back together. I also saw a GP and was diagnosed with depression and anxiety and prescribed sertraline. Looking back now I probably could have done with something stronger.

Then I was landed with two huge bills, totalling in excess of £25,000 at least. I cant remember exactly but it was a tonne of money. Because my books were all over the place and I'd been away from the business, I had no idea what was going on. I couldn't believe I owed out this amount. I paid one bill and some of the other, and assured my associate I'd get the rest for him asap. I was about £10k in the red.

Even though the business was going downhill, I was acting as though everything was ok, praying it would all work out. And I had plans. There was a musician I'd listened to a lot in my late teens who I became friends with and we were going to set up a clothing brand, 1PLU. 'One peace, one love, one unity' we both now had a lot of people in the music and TV industry we could do product placement with and I had high hopes for it, unfortunately it was a dream that would never materialise.

I was still into spirituality and I realised how a lot of the new brands coming to me all had positive names, it had all changed from previous years. I thought it must be all part of some 'spiritual awakening' - people were waking up. Looking back now maybe this was another sign, all these positive brands were coming to me - it was time for me to have my own spiritual awakening. 

Things were still messy on the business side of things but I wasn't drinking or using drugs, determined to fix the business. But I had put on a tonne of weight again and so I started to go to the gym. I then started to obsess about my weight again and started overtraining and eventually bought another pre workout supplement, 'Bull Brand' I think it was called. I then had an allergic reaction to it which made me ill so now I was run down and stressed again. My friend encouraged me to put some brandy in a Lemsip or something like this and now I was triggered. But so long as I didn't get drugs, I knew I'd be ok. 

But during this time I had been whatsapping with a customer who was now mentioning cocaine... run down, stressed, drinking... a mention of cocaine and it all started again. I asked for a link.

Same problem, trying to stick with pornography but then I'd do too many drugs and the floodgates would open. I was trying to fight this thing so much and it just kept finding its way back into my life. To make matters worse, this was some of the strongest cocaine I'd ever got - and I was buying eighths, washing it up, and smoking the lot. 

My mental health was now reaching melting point, too. Thinking my neighbours were spying on me and talking about me outside etc. I remember I spent most of one night in my bedroom with a knife or weapon thinking people had actually come into my flat. I was getting really ill. On one occasion I even jumped out of my 1st story window at the back of the building thinking the police were at the door. I hung from the window which eventually dislodged and knocked myself unconcsious on the ground. When I eventually regained consciousness I spent a good amount of time trying to climb over a huge fence and kept falling back, landing on the floor again. Eventually I got over the fence and the army of police I was expecting to see weren't even there. 

My internet usage was always dark when I was under the influence but I still always had some sort of moral compass, if you can call it that. I looked at some child pornography but this pretty much stopped after the arrest, other than that I never crossed the line legally. I had a twisted fascination with depraved dialogue and looking at underage girls - NN images and YouTube videos.

I remember impersonating a child in a chat room and someone sent me a blackmail thing, I cant remember what exactly, and I thought "thats sinister, I'd never do that" - it was this strange form of denial thinking because I'm not crossing those sort of lines, then I'm not that bad. Then I'm going off and saying all this evil stuff.. really twisted thinking. 

I think the fascination with the dialogue actually started long before I was taking part in it. From watching the extreme pornography. There was something about the shocking things that were said that started to really twist my mind. After watching this stuff for a few years, it warped my thinking and then once I got in chat rooms, I started to repeat it and elaborate on it. Then after using so many drugs and repeating the dialogue for so long, the dialogue got more and more depraved until it was just about as twisted and depraved as you can get. There was no limit to the depravity of the dialogue.

But the young women in those videos were getting treated like dirt. I don't know what it is but after watching it for so long, and it being legal, you start to think it's ok. It's not ok. Its messing up the womens heads in the videos and its messing up the mens heads watching it, too. 

Christmas 2016 was rough, having the investigation hanging over me. Took a while to explain things to my sister.

2017

After some time I made another attempt at quitting. I needed help, and fast. I knew psychedlic drugs have been proven to help a lot of people, and so I decided to try some. I'd done them years ago previously but not with the intention of healing. At first I tried some mushrooms but this hadn't helped, I was reluctant to do too many so did a very small amount. I needed to be in the proper setting and with the right people.

During my hunts online to find some way of recovering, I'd heard about people using Ayahuasca to get free from drugs and addiction and so I found someone locally in Essex who did Ayahuasca ceremonies. I spoke to her and arranged to go to the soonest one - I needed it, and quick. 

I know it might sound crazy to a lot of people - trying to use drugs to get free of drugs, but this was the situation I was in, I was willing to try anything. And after reading a lot of reports of people having success with it, I decided to give it a go.

By now most people from my hometown weren't speaking to me and my relationship with my sister was really bad. My parents were still talking to me, just about. My business was on the ropes and my mental health was really bad. I was scared witless about what was to come from the police investigation and the future seemed bleek. Hopefully this Ayahuasca ceremony would be positive.

I know I had been clean and sober for a few weeks at least because that was a requirement from the ceremony - you had to be clean and sober for a few weeks - so I followed the rules and went after a fashion shoot I held in Brixton. But my mental health was still too poor. It reacted with me badly and one minute I would be in a fit of laughter, the next minute I'd be crying my eyes out, the next minute I'd think the police were coming. I remember the Shaman saying "it's not the Luke show" - this messed my head up for the rest of the night and I left in the morning without the healing I'd hoped for. 

But I didn't start using again and carried on focussing on the business. I could see it was deteriorating though. After coming back, I'd never managed to get things running properly again. I had bills and unhappy customers coming out of my ears, I needed to sit down and try and work out what to do next.

About a week after the ceremony, a model from the fashion shoot messaged me, she was beautiful. She says "you can have this picture" and sent me this nice picture of herself. We'd got along well at the shoot and she was clearly interested. But I just didn't have it in me to do anything. Man, she was so nice.

Then one day I got a call from the officer telling me that nothing had been found on the machines and there would be no further investigating. I remember looking up at the sky and thanking God. Now I could finally move on, I thought.

Then I got a letter, official confirmation it was all over "unless there are any future developments" it said. So of course in my paranoid mind I assumed they might still be tapping the phone and monitoring etc. But all I had to do was stay clean, surely I could do it now.

Customers were now getting agitated about waiting a long time for orders. Normally they'd wait around two weeks but now some had been waiting a month, some even two. And some of these people you really didn't want to upset, they were gang affiliated. And I still had some associates I owed thousands to. I couldn't cover the costs, and was just hoping some miracle would happen and the money would appear from a run of big sales like it had in the past. 

The stress of it all was breaking me, so of course I relapsed in no time, returning to the depravity I swore I'd never go near again. Levels of depravity that could qualify me as the biggest piece of shit in the world. I know what people will say - there's no hope for this guy. And they're right, there wasn't. I don't know how I managed going back after everything that had happened, and not only did I go back, I pushed it again - too far. All I had to do was stop. And trust me, I wish so much that I had. This was my chance to sort myelf out, and I fucked it on so many levels.  

And the paranoia was instantly triggered all over again.. I had had a conversation with someone who I determined was a police officer and it sent my head spiraling. I said evil things about my children. I checked the number from my call log the following day and the call was from a town in Germany. So I Googled the town - it was the police hub for internet crime in the country. Pretty conclusive. 

I couldn't believe it, I'd been out of the madness for 5 seconds and now I was back in it. I immediately fell deep into another spell of depression and anxiety and remember laying on my bed in the blistering heat and a song came on, 'Doomed' by Moses Sumney - and that's exactly how I felt. I must have layed on my bed for a week straight, paralyzed by what I'd done. 

Writing this is so hard because it seemed like God was giving me so many chances to just stop what was going on and yet it just kept going on. I've analysed it all before and beaten myself up over it a million times. I've completely ruined my life, but the worst part is that this is going to ruin my families lives, too. I'm never going to be able to forgive myself for whats happened. 

I remember I had a Quora account at the time which I was using to try and keep my mind busy. Some of the time I'd spend giving people advice with the problems they had, this was really helping me to get out of my own headspace. I'd also talk about God, meditation, giving people spiritual advice. Ridiculous considering the state I was in. 

I'd never ask for help myself on there, I acted like I was ok. Trying to look like a man. But I remember I'd been speaking to a Christian guy on there. I don't know exactly what the conversation was but he could obviously tell I was struggling and he just said "are you ok?" I remember the floods of tears pooring down, shaking and trembling. I really wasn't ok. I probably replied "yeah don't worry about me" - I needed so much to confide in someone but I was so paranoid and confused, I thought no one would understand - how could I tell him what was going on? No one's going to understand all this. And I didn't want to search for help online because I knew it would make me look guilty if I was being monitored. I felt completely trapped between my anxiety and my addiction. 

Then of course, I messed up - again. I tried to screencast some pornography to my TV but casted it to a neighbours TV by mistake. I could hear the commotion of them getting a screenfull of hardcore pornography and trying to turn it off. I immediately came to the conclusion they'd called the police and another crack-induced psychotic episode ensued.

It took a while to gather the confidence to leave the house and as I was walking through the car park, I saw some officers in a car, and one was radioing in. I instantly determined this was regarding me and tried my best to walk as casually as I could.

At first I was dotting around London without a clue where I was going and what I was doing. I convinced myself that some new app had been released where people can hack your phone if they're in your immediate vacinity, so I chucked my phone. I also suspected everyone as being undercover police. Constantly expecting to be jumped by an officer. Utter madness.

At one point I was convinced I was being chased by a gang of people so ran and jumped in a passing taxi. Not sure where it took me. London bridge I think. I was all over the place. Eventually I got a train and ended up up north. Sheffield, Manchester, Leeds, here, there, everywhere - didn't even have a plan.

I booked into a hotel and was convinced people were mocking me from the hallway and running back into their rooms so ran out and started banging on a neighbouring rooms door - I then went back to my room. Not long later I was going to be chased through the city by some lads for a good 10 minutes and had to jump in another taxi to escape a beating.

I then bumped into a guy who was too drunk to walk home and looked like he was going to get himself into trouble so I walked with him across the city and we were approached by a girl who took a liking to me. She was making advances, but of course I didn't do anything. I called the guy a taxi home and she got in the taxi with him. 

I woke up the next day with the guy from nextdoor banging on my door, I was in no state for fighting so avoided a scrap. But my presence was becoming a problem so eventually I got kicked out of the hotel for drinking.

I then booked into a different hotel and I must have bought a new phone because I remember listening to Sarah Mclachlan - 'In The Arms of an Angel'. Literally every single word of this song related to me, my life and that moment. 

I must have been there for a day or two until I returned home to the flat. I was then called by a friend who told me a Whatsapp group had been made and all my angry customers were gradually joining the chat. Someone had even found out where my parents lived and had posted a photo of the house in the chat. I needed to start trying to work out the money I owed and work out how to fix things, quick. 

I then started to figure out how much money I needed to pull together to try and keep afloat. After working out how much I owed customers and associates, it must have totalled £20-£30k+. It was impossible to fix all this before I ended up tied up in the back of a van, or whatever.

Then someone gave me a heads up that people were trying to find out where I lived in Essex. A couple days later a girl in a baseball cap belled my flat. I looked down from my flat and saw her looking left and right, it was really sketchy. I could tell there was probably a mob round the corner waiting for me.

At this point I was completely lost, and bricking it. I had to get away. I tried to move in with my uncle and aunty but my uncle had stopped talking to me due to an argument we'd had at a wedding a couple years previously. I managed to get my Dad to let me stay at my Nans old house in Norwich.

So I arranged for a van to transport my stuff to Norwich and the guy came and we loaded the van. On the way we got talking and it turned out he had had a crack addiction too and was now in recovery. He said "the first thing you need to do is admit you're fucked" - that I could definitely do.

He encouraged me to get to meetings when I got to Norwich and that's exactly what I did. Soon I would become obsessed with meetings - not a bad thing. I was doing every NA meeting in Norwich - which was a lot - at least 1 a day - sometimes 2. I put 100% into recovery and was doing everything I could to get well.

Of course during this time I was again constantly worried something from the past was going to knock on the door. I spent my first bunch of meetings having to walk out because I was so emotional. But gradually I was learning about recovery and doing some healing, and my mental health was slowly improving, even though I had this doom looming over me. 

After some time I was dealing with everything relatively ok given the circumstances. I had some friends again. Going for walks by myself in the countryside, going to the cinema. I was living some kind of life again, even if I did think it was all going to fall to pieces soon, I was living, at least. 

Step 5 obviously scared me, but I wasn't there yet. Step 5 is when you tell someone your life story. I had my reservations for obvious reasons but thought if I can find someone I trust, maybe I'll be ok.

Step 5 is 'Admitted to God, to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.'

Little did I know that one day I'd end up doing my step 5 with the entire world.

NA reintroduced me properly to God, but I don't think I had got a Bible yet. Anonymous meetings suggest you find a 'higher power' - it didn't have to be the Christian God. I was willing to pray to something, I was willing to pray to anything if it was going to help me. So I made sure I got all the NA recovery books. The main NA book really spoke to me.

In my hopelessness I had kept reaching out to God in the past.. Just hoping there was something, somewhere, that could help me. I couldn't do it by myself and God seemed to have helped me in the past. So I got back in touch with God. Praying, meditating, meetings - I was doing everything and it was working.

Because everything in recovery is about confession, healing, understanding, etc, I thought that maybe once I'd been arrested, if I went to prison, which I thought was likely, maybe once I got out I could come back to Norwich and it could be my new home. But eventually I'd find out that there wasn't as much love and understanding as I thought there was.

Its hard when you're doing everything right, putting 100% into getting better, and everything seems to be going well, yet you've got this huge dark thing constantly hanging over you, waiting for it all to go up in flames once again. For the first few months there I always left the front door off the latch so the door wouldn't get bust open when the police came. I didn't buy furniture and just slept on an inflatable bed for the whole 2 years - I had a desk and a chair in the living room - that was it. I never really made it a home, it was just somewhere I could sleep until it all went pear shaped again.

I was getting interest from women in the meetings but I didn't only have my fear of rejection now, I had a fear of getting close to someone and then getting nicked. It didn't even matter if I could somehow override my fear of rejection sober - I'd still constantly have the fear of getting a knock while I'm with a partner, having to explain everything and go through all of that. I was completely riddled by fear.

After a few months of anxiety and waiting I messaged the original officer something like "the doors always open so you can come whenever you want" - I think he called me, and acted confused like he didn't know what I was talking about but looking back now, he must have.

This gave me a bit of hope, but I wasn't completely convinced, not yet. So I carried on going to meetings and doing the work.

I think this was when I really started getting back into God and pulled my Bible out and started reciting passages. The first was Ephesians 5:10-20, then Romans 12, then some Psalms. Reciting the passages to myself really gave me an escape from my mind and brought me peace.

Edit: I've realised I've actually put 5:10-20 when the scripture is actually 6:11-24, not sure why I put the first one. 6:11-24 is the armour of God scripture. Upon checking 5:10, it is actually very deep and seems to be a synchronicity in itself:

"10 and find out what pleases the Lord. 11 Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them. 12 It is shameful even to mention what the disobedient do in secret. 13 But everything exposed by the light becomes visible—and everything that is illuminated becomes a light. 14 This is why it is said:

“Wake up, sleeper,
    rise from the dead,
    and Christ will shine on you.”"

Specifically: "everything that is illuminated becomes a light." (i.e darkness exposed becomes light)

And I started listening to Hillsong music again, a lot of which I'd heard before in London at the Hillsong church. I think this was when I discovered the song 'Splinters and Stones' - the song spoke to me on a lot of levels but in it it says 

"You saw the crushing weight my flesh deserved
You kneeled and wrote forgiveness in the dirt
And one by one, the stones fell where they lay
As one by one my accusers walked away
With nothing left to throw, they made a cross
And knowing only love could count the cost
You were there"

'My accusers walked away with nothing left to throw [and] they made a cross' - the song seemed to synchronise with my life but I didn't understand the 4th-5th lines because I wondered 'what could the cross possibly be?' That part never made sense to me - I didn't know what the cross would be - now I do and the whole song makes perfect sense.

But things were going ok. By now I had a bunch of friends. I had avoided getting a smart phone or TV and just used the library if I needed the internet. I was doing everything right.

Then one day I looked through my stuff and found some lottery tickets I'd bought in London just before I'd left, so I decided to take them to the shop to have checked on the way to a meeting. I found a shop in town and gave them to a staff member. As she's checking them she asks me "you've got a lucky dip, when do you want it for?" I gave her a day and said "always lucky dips but never any money" she goes "you've got some money I just didn't want to shout it out" - shops empty.. why not tell me? Must be a big one I'm thinking.

Then she comes to the counter, "you've won £4" or some small amount like this. I'm thinking why not just tell me when I asked? £4? I looked at her with a bit of suspiscion and she was looking at me as though she's waiting to see what I'll say in response to my £4. I didn't want to make accusations and hadn't really thought about it all that much at this time so I just took the money and said I wouldn't spend it all at once.

I continue my walk to a meeting and as I get down the street I'm thinking, this aint right. So I went back and made up a story - my girlfriend says there should have been more - something like this. She's sat there with a coffee and just raises it to her lips and gives a very small shake of the head. I walk out again, concerned.

I cant remember how much long later but eventually I go back in and explain it to another staff member, she tells me straight up, no, nothing. I'm now becoming more and more convinced I've been done over.

I call Camelot who tell me no ticket, no money and there's no way to check the shop. I'm starting to think I've gotta let this go. And that's what I did. But I'm now obsessing over this constantly and it's doing my head in.

About a month later I'm telling a friend about the scenario and he suggests I tell the police. I don't know why I didn't think about this sooner - the police just aren't really a place I go to for help. So we go down there and I explain whats happened. 

They go to the shop - but just over a month has passed. No CCTV. Case closed.

After some digging, I find out the womans name and search it on Twitter. I look up the feed and see someone sitting in the back of a limousine drinking champagne. Alarm bells are ringing. So I message her - instantly blocked.

This whole thing absolutely ruins me and I end up relapsing a few weeks later. 4 months I'd managed and now I'd relapsed. Not a big relapse, a one off - but a relapse is a relapse. 

I explained my mental health to a friend who pointed out I should be on a different benefit scheme because I had drug-induced psychosis, so I explained everything to my doctor who diagnosed me and issued me a note to be taken to the benefit office. Because I had had quite severe crack-induced episodes, I believed I had it. Little did I know how much madness this little error would later get me into.

From here on in, anyone who knew I was diagnosed that I'd speak to about paranoia and signs etc just put it down to my mental health. But I knew this woman in the shop did me over.

The weirdest thing about being in recovery for me was that people were always talking about how all of this weight was lifted off their shoulders after x amount of time clean, being on a 'pink fluffy cloud', 'it felt like the start of a new life' things like this - but it was never like that for me, I always felt like I had a big dark cloud over me that was about to start pooring rain any moment.

The next day I'm immediately back in a meeting and back on the wagon. I'd learnt enough now that I knew the minute I fell off, I had to immediately jump back on before it got out of hand. As soon as you have a consecutive relapse, you're in trouble. I was getting better, slowly but surely. But being in recovery, a lot of people put on a tonne of weight. And that's what I was doing. I felt better on the inside but still really insecure about the outside, so I tried to lose weight.

I started getting frustrated about not losing the weight and eventually gave in and got some supplements. I was combining Do-Do Chesteaze, caffeine and baby aspirin. I had used the combo before with luck and so did it again. The chest tablets contained a small dose of Ephedrine which when mixed with the caffeine and aspirin helped you to lose weight.

I had been doing this for a few days but then took a day or two off. During this time I was writing in one of my journals, about fear and love. Referring to the Cherokee proverb of the two wolves and developing on that philosophy.

During these writings, I explained how I knew what the answer was yet I was still not completely acting out of love. Yes, I was clean and sober but I was still smoking cigarettes and using pre-workouts, animal products, etc. All things I didn't really want to be doing. I had to fully submit to love and come from a place of love at all times, thats what I wanted to do - thats what I was writing about. 

I swear to God I was sober on this day. After writing about this internal conflict, I laid down the book and blew out the smoke from my roll up and the smoke spiralled and created the word 'love', I then did it another two times and it showed the word 'love' again. I then walked up to the window and a pigeon flew into the sky and an apple fell from the tree. I then received a text from my Dad saying "how are you? Hope you're ok" something along these lines. So I called my Dad who said he'd just got back from Tesco and my Mum was doing a portrait of me. This was during a time when I didn't speak to them very often so for this to all happen at the exact same time as this vision/ hallucination, it just increased the significance of this moment. 

This sequence of events sent shivers up my spine and I stood there in amazement for a while. So I made a plan - I was going to pack literally everything in that didn't agree with me so I was coming from a place of love 100% with no room for fear.

I decided this was it - I was quitting smoking and I was going to give any non-vegan food away and find someone to take the supplements. After some thought I decided to throw the supplements - I didn't want to enable someone else. Tomorrow was going to be my new start.

The following day I still hadn't threw the tobacco.. I was sat by a lamp and held my roll up and looked at it, 'love' in the smoke again 3 times - I immediately shot up and threw the tobacco in the toilet, threw the supplements and put all the non-vegan food in a crate and took it to town.

I know this sounds absolutely crazy but I swear it's what happened. Up until this point, if anyone told me this story I would think they were completely bonkers but it happened, I cant not mention it. I wrote the event in my journal and couldn't wait to tell someone, of course later I'd wonder if telling people was really a good idea.

I walked through town to the place where they give food to the homeless and left the crate in the hall, then as I was walking out I saw an AA meeting in progress. I hadn't done AA before, only NA. So I went in and explained what had happened. Everyone thought I was completely off my rocker as you'd expect. 

I continued to tell people but no one believed me, or they thought I was crazy. I think there were some people who just listened and nodded, so I just assumed they thought I was crazy. I must have started to question it myself, being diagnosed with psychosis - but I knew what had happened. 

I cant believe I was literally being sent signs to choose love; profound, incredible ones which had a huge impact on me, and I was about to fall off again and do the worst thing I've ever done in my entire life. It was like I was being told what to do - I knew what to do - and yet for some reason it just wasn't enough. I wish it had convinced me of Gods presence - it should have done, but it didn't.

At some point towards the end of the year, I bought a smart phone. I'd managed a year without one now and thought I'd be ok. When I didn't have a smart phone I wouldn't relapse but once I had porn accessible at my fingertips, it would become a problem. It was a catch 22, no smart phone or tech and you're a bit disconnected from the world - get it and temptation starts to play on your mind.

I then remember starting to get insecure about my weight again - again I was being driven by fear instead of love. I'd planned to diet in the new year, I think I was going to go vegan, or fast - I cant remember exactly what but whatever it was was too much for me and I ended up relapsing a few days in. And to make matters worse, I had come into some insurance money for a crash that happened in London and so I had a tonne of money. Relapsing with a tonne of money led to the dealer and after a visit to the dealer the pipe came out. Washing up the freebase, again.

2018

The amount of money I had meant I was hitting massive pipes and was going to some really deranged levels I cant even understand. The things I was doing, I swear - they're not who I am. Evil, evil things.

On the first night of the relapse, which I believe was the 8th January, in my depraved crack-induced state I had a chat room conversation with a police officer posing as a mother with a baby. I believed it was a female that wanted a perverse conversation, or possibly a male paedophile posing as a female. I gave them my number. I remember sending them NN images, too. Not long after the convo I soon realised it was a police officer - I was now panicking. 

I know I look like the biggest piece of shit in the world right now but I swear to God its not who I am. These things dont happen when I'm not off my nut on crack, I masturbate to pictures of women, yes young women - but women. I will admit sometimes I entertain fantasies in my imagination but its never as dark as the places my head takes me on crack. When I'm on enough crack, a darkness enters me that I have no control over. 

I must make it clear before I continue that I had absolutely no intention of meeting up with this person. I know how it looks, but I can categorically state that I have never met up with a paedophile I'd spoken to on the internet. Everything was always completely fantasy. Always. 

I think it was the next day I listened to Men of Standard 'In Your Will' and swore to myself that that was what I was going to do. Get back in Gods will, and stay there. But the prospect of what was going to happen was too much and I quickly spiralled into what was about to be a huge relapse, a relapse that would last 2 months or so, reaching levels of depravity that I'd never gone to before. Sick, twisted, depraved levels of piece of shit behaviour that I wish I was dead over. There were times you could have offered me the chair and I'd have gladly jumped in it.

There is perversity in me, I wont deny that. But the levels I go to on crack are not me. And this was not me. This was way beyond anything I'd even consider doing in my sober mind, and even under the influence, I hadn't pushed these levels. This was the lowest I've ever gone - ever have gone. I couldn't even go lower - this was the bottom. Rock, rock bottom. It makes me cringe even thinking about it.  

Downloading NN, watching videos of all ages, extremely hardcore pornography, chat rooms - adults and childrens, satanic music, dark music, rape porn, twisted, evil, depraved dialogue.. the most extreme depravity you can imagine.

Ever since I was arrested, I had always tried to keep it 'safe' - I didn't cross any lines that I thought could get me arrested. So I wasn't downloading child pornography or anything like that but that doesn't matter - its still evil, and if you think I should be shot then you're probably right. 

I have absolutely no interest in babies or toddlers, that isn't even something I suppress. I dont know what was happening inside me when all of that happened, when I'm on crack, something fucked up happens that I dont understand and 6 years ago it reached a level I have no understanding of. 

On the 18th March 2018 I found myself laying on my bed staring at the ceiling thinking of what a mess I was in, trying to think of a way to get out of this one. I didn't want this one on me. 

I then came up with this idea, chuck the tech and create a person who doesn't exist and report them as stealing the tech. It was a crazy idea but I was willing to do anything to try and get out of it. By the end of the day the tech was in a bin and I'd reported my tech stolen by a homeless guy living with me 'Stuart Saxon'.

I then swore to God I was never going back to this shit and started getting back into meetings. My new sober and clean date was March 18th 2019.

Again I chucked the smart phone and went anti-tech, if I needed to do anything online I'd go to the library and I reverted back to a cheapy brick phone. 

I must have been a week or two into this when someone told me about SAA. It sounded like everything I needed - a recovery meeting for sex addicts. 

I did one meeting and the words in the book were immediately speaking to me - it was like someone knew exactly what I'd been through and had written it in a book. People were getting honest in the meeting and I was relating to them, too. Speaking in my first meeting was huge for me, it's like I'd finally found my place.

I remember wishing I'd heard about this before, I now had this new huge impending doom looming over me once again and thought maybe if I'd found these meetings sooner, it wouldn't have happened.

I then confided in Sirajel and a couple others that I was worried about the police. I didn't give all the details but made it clear what was up with me.  

I was now doing 2,3 meetings a day again, combining NA, AA and SAA - even GA (gamblers anonymous due to a roulette problem I'd got in the bookies) and I was doing every meeting I could, getting all the books, reading my Bible, praying - and I got serious about my scripture reciting - I put it upon myself to learn psalm 119, the longest scripture. I got gospel CD's, did meditation - anything recovery related I was doing it.

Sexual abstinence was now becoming a thing again, too. Completely abstaining from masturbation. I would usually manage a week or two and then relapse, but I was constantly trying. I'd tried it in the past on and off but now I was determined to do it. If I could get full control over my sex drive then I'd never have a problem again. 

It must have been about this time that someone from the meetings invited me to his church and so we went that following Sunday. I had no idea what sort of church it would be but when I got there they were playing songs I knew from Hillsong, I had to contain myself because I was close to having a serious breakdown in church.

Then one day I had some money in my bank and it was on me to relapse, cant remember why I was triggered - so I went to the library as quickly as possible and bought a 200 year old pocket Bible from America, cost me £100 and nearly cleared my funds. Dodged a relapse and got me something that meant a lot to me.

I was doing fasts on and off, too. The thing I love about fasting is that the rules are easy - water only. Because my brain seems hard wired to this 'all or nothing' mode - nothing is easy when you're fasting. I was managing 1, sometimes 2 weeks on water fasts, but breaking a fast always seemed to effect my mental health worse than actually being on the fast. All your feelings and emotions come back at once and it can be a bit much. I think I got close to a relapse once and had to take a break from it.

One thing about fasting is that your sex drive dramatically decreases so I wouldn't be bothered about anything sex related. I wasn't smoking, drinking, taking drugs - didn't have to worry about what I shouldn't eat, and sex wasn't on my mind. It felt like I was completely in tune with God - when I was fasting I knew God was happy with me at all times.

I was getting good in meetings, too. I'd learnt a lot about recovery and spirituality and was enjoying being to help people, offer my number to newbies, etc. 

But I was still managing to put on weight so again I got insecure and vowed to lose the weight, and got a pre-workout sup.. I must have been 3 or 4 days into training and it was already wearing me down. I was this close to relapsing, the closest you can get, and I was like "God, please give me a sign" and pulled out my little antique Bible, flipping to a random page and putting my finger on a passage, and it comes up:

1 Corinthians 10:13

"There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it"

Straight away - pre workouts in the bin - and I'm thanking God. I must have been 4 months in and nearly slid but that sign put me back on the right path, and I'm back in a meeting the next day.

I'd also been seeing a counsellor for some time, a Christian lady at Norwich Baptist Church and I explained the signs to her, including the visions of love and she points out to me that Peter denied Jesus's love 3 times. I'd not even realised the metaphor - it was another affirmation to me that God must be real. 

The craziest thing about all of this is even though I'm getting these signs, I was still questioning Gods existance. I know Christians and theists will think I'm the worst person in the world for doing this, being sent such blatant messages and still not being convinced, but for the first 25 years of my life I was an atheist - all the reading I'd done on it was anti-God and most of the people surrounding me weren't religious. And when I asked Christians the big questions, a lot of the answers just didn't add up. I knew about determinism, the 'illusion of free will', things that didn't allign with Christianity. But at the same time, I knew God worked, or at least - the belief in God worked. And at this point, I was in so much desperation that I felt I needed something supernatural to heal me - to fix things. It was like I was caught between two options - delusional harmony or a miserable reality. A realistic harmony seemed impossible. 

I think my counsellor was the first person to actually seem to care about what I had to say about the messages I seemed to be getting. She didn't think I was mad. Or at least she didn't say, maybe she did. She was a really nice woman and she listened to a lot of my stuff, I told her I was worried about the police but not why exactly. After some time she realised I was keeping something from her and she said "can you tell there's an elephant in the room?" And there was - a giant elephant, too.

I'd confided in a couple people, but I couldn't confide in her, it was too much. She looked at me with so much humanity and I was pretty sure the second I got too deep that would go. I really needed her and didn't want to lose our connection. 

It must have been mid-May that I got a call from an officer regarding a fraud case that had been opened at the Banbury police station. I cant remember how she got the number but she said she knew the street address I was living at, but not sure of the door number. She said she got the address from some online thing, which I don't think I'd even be registered at. It all seemed very strange - alarm bells were ringing. It had been 4 months since the relapse in Jan and so the timescale would be the same as the original case. She was very laid back about it though "I suppose I could transfer it to Norwich but it'll be a logistical nightmare" I said I'd get back to her. I'm now panicking.

Not much long later, I get a call from my youngests Mum and she's crying saying 'I fucked up.' I didn't get much sense out of her but eventually I find out that the police have gone to her house and the kids (my youngest and her brothers) have been taken from her. Her drug use had got out of control and the house was such a mess that someone had informed the police and upon arrival they decided the conditions were too bad for the kids to stay there. Luckily her Mum and my parents stepped in and were able to look after the kids while meetings etc would take place working out what would happen to them, where they'd go.

I'm now really panicking because we've both fucked up now. Yet no one knows it. And the future of the kids is resting on our shoulders. She's got a drug habit thats out of control and I'm expecting my thing to blow up - and soon. 

I then had a call with a social worker about the whole situation and she's a bit sketchy on the phone, immediately I think it's something to do with the police - there's been some miscommunication between them and I'm still being told I need to have supervised care, even though the case was dropped. I come to the conclusion that its because there's this new case in the works, but they're keeping it from me. I made a lot of phonecalls to different professionals panicking about it but every conversation I had was just making me more paranoid. 

Not long later I'm called to a meeting in Banbury about the situation and about 15 professionals were there; teachers, social workers, someone on behalf of the police, my Mum, my youngests Mum and her friend. I must have been sat in the meeting for 5 minutes and I get a text from the fraud officer, something like "you're not in Banbury any time soon are you?" Immediately I'm thinking, she knows I'm here, that's why she's texting - I'm at my wits end. 

Information about the whole case with the kids is then discussed in the meeting but I notice in the documentation there's mention of my arrest the couple years before but no mention of the result. So I ask the officer to make it clear, the officer then discloses it in all its detail but doesn't make it clear and my youngests Mums friend is crying out of the room. I had to go out and try and calm her down and explain so it was clearer that I wasn't charged.

I always had to do this when I'd return to Banbury, I'd see people who'd heard Chinese whispers - that I'd gone to jail and all kinds of exagerations, and have to explain that I hadn't been charged, and back it up with my lie - it simply wasn't me I'd tell them. But whilst I'm doing this I'm waiting for shit to hit the fan again soon. It was like trying to fix one hole in the bath while there's another hole about to split on the other side. Lying and lying to convince people one thing knowing you're gonna have to start telling another lie soon, too.

A lot of times I'd see people and be so convinced it's kicking off soon that I wouldn't even say anything. I was caught between two huge lies. Why try and rebuild a friendship when it's only going to get destroyed again, I thought. There were many people I really wanted to talk to and explain myself but it all just seemed so pointless. The town had grown from loving me to hating me - going back there was a whole new problem in itself. 

Of course I'd explain continue to explain my worries about the police to a few friends in Norwich and a couple old friends from Banbury but people wouldn't really be interested - I'd been talking about "the police are coming" for years now, it became a bit of a "yeah alright Luke take your meds" sort of thing. 

Then one day I must have been a few days into a fast and I'm sitting on the bus and I think to myself "Gods got a plan for you but so has the Devil" - then that afternoon I'm speaking to my old mate from Banbury of 20 years and he tells me his friend had just said the exact same thing. I had a moment. 

I'm still clean and sober at this point and I'm getting on for about 7 months. But I'm trying to quit smoking - about 5 days in I went to the cinema and on the way I text Sirajel to see if he wants to come and I offer to pay. It's the Hatton Garden Job film about the robberies.

It must have been about 5 minutes in and he's taking calls and doing stuff on his phone and so a staff member goes over and asks him to turn it off but he carries on, and in my frustration I say something like "bruv just turn the fucking phone off". He then storms out, texting me about me being 'a mug.' He'd done this before and I'd asked him not to do it but he's doing it again - I'm now getting a bit worked up but I tell myself I'm gonna just sit here and watch this film. So I watch the film telling myself to calm down - I know how I get when I'm trying to quit smoking. 

Then I come out of the cinema and text a different mate and he's like 'I'm with Sirajel in the shopping center' - and I see red. I dont know what came over me - I then ran across the city into the shopping center and when I saw him I just lost it and assaulted him. 

This probably makes me sound like a maniac - I'm not the type to run around assaulting people over something so petty but for some reason on this day I did something completely out of character. 

Then as I'm walking off I hear "CALL THE POLICE!" - 'here we go' I'm thinking and so I jump on a bus back home. 

Later that afternoon I then decided to get a tattoo of a cross on my chest - no idea why I decided to do that on this day. Little did I know at the time but this day was about to turn into the start of another crazy chapter of my life. A chapter that would lead down yet another confusing pathway.  

That evening I'm at a mates house and and I'm getting a call from my sponsor saying "Sirajels saying this and that about you to xxxxxx and xxxxxx, what's happened?" - but what I'm being told he's said isn't even true, he's going deep about paedophile rings and all sorts. I explain to him how I assaulted Sirajel so he must be running his mouth. He replies "is that what this is all about then, you punched him and now he's talking?" I was like "yeah." My sponsor then tells me he'll call a couple people up and explain what's going on to try and cool things down.

Later on I'm in my mates kitchen thinking about this thing I've been worried about for so long and suddenly I realise, it's been 7 months, I must be ok. I must have felt ok for about 2 minutes max but then the next minute I'm thinking if Sirajels gossiping about me to people from NA, what if he's also spoke to the police about what I've told him. For 2 minutes I felt like the weight of the past was finally being released and now I've got this whole new weight back on my shoulders. To carry weight for that long and think you're ok for 2 minutes and then bang its back on you, it's the craziest down, up, down of emotion.

Once I get home my heads all over the place and for the next few days I'm hearing ringing and I keep hearing music repeating on and off. I contacted the GP and they sent some women over from the mental health center who prescribe me Peracyzine. It really blocked out a lot that was going on in my head. 

But now I'm going into meetings and everyones energy has changed. Its the same energy I was getting in Banbury, I knew what was up. This gossip has now spread to everyone in NA. Then I'm getting Facebooked on an account from someone in Banbury "who's Sirajel? And what's he on about" - the guys not only spoke to NA and the police - he's now Facebooking everyone on my account, too. I had to message my 5-aside football team saying not to pay attention if they get any messages about me, the thing's now spreading like wild fire. Everyone's cutting me off.

I had so much love for everyone in those meetings, never judged anyone, reached out if someone was upset - I thought that was the point. Next thing I know everyone's hearing gossip and they're blanking me, acting funny round me, it was like I never existed.

I spent about a week or two expecting a knock and I'm thinking - I need to grab the bull by the horns now, this is all too much. So I went to the Norwich police station and asked the woman there to look into it for me, giving her the case number. I'd spoke to her before a couple times about the lottery ticket situation and we got along well, so she was very chirpy and helpful. At first, anyway. 

Then she goes to use the phone in the office and calls whoever's dealing with it and suddenly her voice seems to change and she calls to me "Luke do you want to take a seat for a minute?" - getting me to sit down in the waiting room like she doesn't want me in earshot. Immediately I'm pretty sure I know what's going on. She comes back, energy completely changed - "someone will call you soon" she tells me, and she's acting off. 

A day or two later there was some sort of confusion about who's supposed to be calling me or where I'm supposed to go, I cant remember. But I eventually get a call from an officer who I believe was PC Lamb asking me whether I'm planning on leaving the country and all this. I asked him what I was under investigation for and he asks me if I know what I'm under investigation for, so I tell him it's his job to tell me, and we end up in this back and forth of raising our voices trying to confirm what I'm under investigation for. Eventually he says, "ok I'll tell you - fraud." I then ask him something about the fraud case and he says "I wouldn't know about all that" I reply "yeah, you wouldn't" and our conversation ended there.

I'm now joining the dots and the picture it's making isn't a pretty one. No knock regarding Sirajel, no knock about fraud, now I've got this officer acting really sketchy with me, weirdest phone call I've ever had. I'm not feeling too confident about this situation at all. 

Of course I'm trying to explain this to friends, I broke down a few times with a couple. But again all they've heard from me is 'police police police' for however long now, they're fed up with it really. 

Then I remember going to an SAA meeting and there's a new guy there. Afterwards I spoke to him and he tells me this story that's exactly the same as mine - "got a knock 4 months later, now I'm waiting while they go through my machines etc" immediately I'm thinking he's undercover and pointed him in the direction of a couple others, "you should speak to one of these who's been through all that" I suggested.

I think this was when I first started checking for bugs in my sober mind, thinking my place had been rigged. I had been 7 months clean and I was so paranoid now it was like I was on crack all over again. I was always thinking my phone was tapped and stuff like that but now it was hitting new levels. 

I then went to a couple meetings - I had to start doing AA more now to avoid the NA crowd but now I'm constantly thinking who's talking what, who knows what, what are they thinking, etc, and AA are gradually catching wind of what's happened in NA. I needed to get away - my stay in Norwich was officially over.

By now it was like everywhere I went things would go wrong; my hometown hated me, London hated me, and now Norwich hated me. I was determined not to mess up wherever I went next. 

It wasn't long before I found a place in Kidderminster and planned to get out there asap. It was near Banbury but not too near to be a problem and the flat was decent at a good price. 

Despite what had just happened in Norwich, I was still clean and sober - 9 months now, on the way to my first year. I'd sworn I'd never go back to all that and so far, I hadn't.

2019

January comes and I arrive in Kidderminster but a last minute confusion means I have to cancel the flat and find somewhere else. I then found a little place nearer the town but then there's yet another change to a different flat on the same block due to a concern about privacy. When I go in, I walk to the living room and look out of the window and there's a church directly ahead. "Well that's another sign" I'm thinking.

I hadn't been long in Kidderminster until I changed my name to Luke Johnson. I realised if I was going to be in the papers, I'd rather it be under a different name. If I got nicked, went to prison, ended up in the papers and got out, I could change it back to Luke Haywood and there'd be no chance of my daughter stumbling across an article about me in the future. No chance of that working now, of course.

After some time I get the courage to find a meeting but the first guy I speak to asks where I'm from, normally I wouldn't say Banbury but I'm thinking you know what, I'm gonna do it - "Banbury" I reply.. "oh, my missus is from there!" Well that's it, no more meetings for me in Kidderminster then.

After this, I slowly turned into a hermit that was too scared to meet people and just sat in my flat watching movies constantly. I'm still waiting for this knock as well - don't want to be making friends or finding a partner and then losing it all again. I did meetings online, though. Of course I was constantly thinking there's undercover police in meetings so didn't want to say anything too deep, constantly watching my words. I made a couple friends who I'd keep in contact with on the phone, but of course I'm thinking its tapped so I dont really go into my problems with them, either.

I was so paranoid I wouldn't even text with people on my cheapy phone because of the anxiety of them saying anything that would trigger my anxiety, or me saying something, not even dodgy things, for example someone asked for my email and I had a new one and I didn't want to send it but in the end I did then I thought what if there's something in that email? I think I'd ordered hardcore porn on it and thought that could be used, even little things like this would send my head spinning. 

I did manage to get into a brief long-distance relationship with a girl from the online meetings but it was very short-lived.

There was one person I was speaking to in Norwich and I had to ask them not to text because I was anxious they'd say something about what had happened. I hated texting, hated talking, communication was really starting to become a problem.

I set up a Reddit I think but it didn't last long because knowing I was being monitored all the time just messed with my head, everything I said and did I was over analysing, I didn't even want to Google words I didn't know and wanted the definition for because I didn't want to look stupid, it got that bad. 

Returning to Banbury was killing me because of all the looks I'd get. Some people might be ok but then I'd see them again and they'd be off. The blanking, pulling of the face, smirking, it was all really messing with my head. I started getting really anxious about going out and seeing people. 

Its impossible to explain the feeling you get when you go through this, you know people hate you and if they dont hate you yet, you know they will soon. You dont even want to make friendships because you know they'll be ruined soon. Its the loneliest place in the entire world. 

There was this one guy I became friends with who was honest about his cocaine and pornography habit. I had a million things I could say to him but I was too paranoid I was being listened to. I helped him as much as I could without getting too specific but the guy was really struggling, it bothered me I couldn't help him as much as I wanted to.

I was now a year clean and sober and decided to call Sirajel to apologise and smooth things out. He said he reported the assault but he didn't want anything to do with it and was going to call the officer to drop it. I'm sure he said PC Lamb but I'm not 100% sure, it wasn't until much later I'd think back to this conversation thinking about what the officers name was. Anyway I apologised and he accepted my apology. I asked if he spoke to the police about 'anything else' and he said he couldn't remember. I was sure he had but didn't want to press him - I'd made my ammends and he'd said he'd drop the assault charge - best to leave it at that, I thought. He then reassured me he'd make it clear he hadn't been coerced. I left the call on good terms and haven't spoke to him since. 

After some time I started going for walks and meditating, praying and set up a Youtube called A Vision of Peace as well as some social accounts that I planned to upload videos etc to about recovery and spirituality. But I was still going through this thing and so still didn't have a smart phone, laptop, tv or any of that. I was just using a small standalone DVD player for DVD's. I wanted to get through this first and then I would get internet and tech and start focusing on A Vision of Peace. I had the channel ready and had a load of videos taken on a digicam that I backed up on my email, waiting until the day I could start editing videos and getting the thing going. 

I was going back often to see my family and my daughter and they're seeing the improvemenet - I'm never hungover, never on a comedown, and they know I'm a year clean now - they're starting to get more hope in me. And as we're getting closer, I'm building a great relationship with them all - especially my daughter. But whilst they're all seeing that I'm doing so well at staying off the drugs and alcohol, I'm still expecting this thing to blow up any minute and I'm hiding it all inside.

There were two or three people from Norwich I was still speaking to but eventually they stopped talking to me. Everything was fine, we're getting along but then bam - no contact. I decided someone must have said something and so I  left it alone rather than pressing it. I remember ringing my old sponsor and mentioning how I'm still worried about the police and waiting for their visit - he was really wound up I was still going on about it - years now he's been hearing about it - frustrated at still being told it was all in my head, we stopped talking. 

I then spoke to another mate who I explained my anxiety to who also tells me its all in my head 'I know how the police work, they would have been by now' - but it didn't matter how much people tried to reassure me, I was convinced. For a moment or two sometimes I'd question it but when I'd run through everything in my mind I'd just been convinced again. 

I also spoke to a couple people from online meetings and explained to them how I'd been waiting for the police for however long but I could tell they thought I was just mad as well. Everyone thought I was crazy.

Concerned about my mental health, I then went to the Robertson Center to get medicated. I explained I'd been on Peracyzine but was told peracyzine was now obsolete - so they prescribed me quetiapine and metazapine and started upping the quetiapine dose gradually. 

The world is telling you its all in your head, you're diagnosed with psychosis, you're getting given meds which are helping you block stuff out and calm down - but you're still utterly convinced. But then you know someone who's mentally ill would be utterly convinced, too. It starts to fuck with your head. By now either people had cut me off because they thought I was crazy, or I'd cut people off because they thought I was crazy. Eventually I had no one and was just completely alone; no phonecalls, no online meetings, nothing. 

I remember watching Terminator one and two after years of not seeing it and realising how much I related to Sarah Connor - everyone thinks she's crazy but she knows whats up. That was me. 

The only person I had left was a keyworker who'd call me now and then called Emma who was really nice. But again she thinks everything I'm talking is mental illness, as she would - working in mental health. I remember asking if she'd seen Terminator 2.. I think I explained the scene with Sarah Connor and the mental health worker when the T1000 walks through the bars and the mental health worker realises Sarah was telling the truth the whole time, I was like 'that's gonna be you mate' joking but meaning it, too.

Eventually I stopped using the Robertson Center and communication with her fizzles out - its now literally just me. 

The hardest part was knowing where to be. I'd be in my flat completely isolated losing my mind and would need to go and be with my family to have some human contact, but then I'd go to see my family and my mental health was so poor that I couldn't handle it with them, either. Having this thing constantly eating me up inside and not being able to tell them was grinding me down.

Its approaching the end of the year and I'm now 1 and a half years clean and sober, and I decide to do a 3 week fast, gradually reducing my meds through the first week and just drinking water - not a good idea with the state of my mental health. During this time I was reading about astral projection, trying to astral project but with no luck. I eventually manage to push through the 3 weeks and then broke it and that evening or the next I go into sleep paralysis which turns into an self-induced out-of-body experience - an astral projection from the sleep paralysis.

After some buzzing through my body, I float above my bed and then around my flat, from the bedroom to the living room and then back in the hall, and as I float down the hall I'm approached by this dark little 'it' like figure that grabs me - I instantly return to my physical body, shooting up from the bed in shock at whats just happened. I immediately explain the whole thing to my sister who probably thinks I'm completely losing it at this point. 

A day or two later I go back to my parents and they're away on holiday so I decide to stay until they get back. I'm now off the fast and I'm eating - eating a lot rather than gradually reintroducing food as directed. My mental health is all over the place and my feelings and senses are all rushing back, and a depraved dialogue starts in my head - this leads to an uncontrollable urge to go into a chat room.. I dont know what I was thinking - because I swear to God I had never done this sober - but I went on there and had a perverse conversation.

Then I do it again the next day.. as soon as I go downstairs I'm sitting there and suddenly I start thinking "what if the internet's being monitored and they've pulled it up?" This had already been a concern to me in the past but my head was so unwell I had now completely overlooked it. Now I'm running through everything I've said in my head, thinking to myself, "how am I gonna get out of this one?"

I spent a lot of time trying to work something out and I think I gave up at first. I couldn't work a way out of this one. I knew I was under investigation so why wouldn't they monitor my parents IP? Of course they would. I was starting to think to myself 'you know what mate, it's game over now'

2020

Early into 2020 my neighbour knocks on my door and tells me they're moving so I can have their old analogue TV, I hadn't had a TV for 3 years at this point, so I accept. I needed something else to try and keep my mind occupied, I was completely paralyzed by fear once again.

February 2020 I get a letter regarding the fraud case and I realise what's happening - 4 months have passed since this most recent fuck up, now they want me to come in - they're gonna throw the book at me. This whole thing I've been running from for years is about to hit me, and hard.

And the letter was from PC Lamb - I think it might have been then that I thought about the conversation with Sirajel, I'm thinking - did he say PC Lamb? That would make sense.

I then go to my parents and have a meltdown, worst state I've been in in my life, I give them a watered-down version of events and tell them I'm going to go to Norwich to deal with it asap.

Part of me is just praying I'm wrong, maybe I'm ok - but I knew what was going on.

When I get there there's some confusion about my solicitor - he's gone to a different building. I'm immediately thinking they've told him to go to a different building so they can talk to me before the interview without my solicitor there - and that's exactly what they're about to do. They offer to drive me to this other building. 

The first thing the female officer does when they come out to see me in the waiting room is look at my crotch, which I get a lot when I'm 'under suspicion' - first bad sign.

Then while PC Lamb is getting the car to drive over to this building, the female officer says "did you used to live in Norwich then?" "yeah for a bit", I reply - thinking 'why are they asking? Surely they know.'

Then when he pulls up in his car he asks the exact same thing and she looks at him as if to say 'that was supposed to be my line' - second bad sign.

A lot of weird energy in the car on the way to this other police building is just ringing alarm bells all over the place. I ask some questions they cant really answer, they keep shuffling about like something's up. Things like this. 

Then the same thing happens at the book-in. The Norwich address is on their books and PC Lamb says something like "weird how all these computers are linked together isn't it?" I wasn't even suspicious of this at first but now he's saying this as if to suggest the address would get on there from some syncronisation with another system or something. The way he said it was just off, and the timing - the energy.

Everything these officers is doing is making me more and more convinced I'm there for another reason than fraud, then while I'm waiting for my solicitor he comes to me and says "I don't understand why CID are dealing with this - its a civil case"

I do the interview and their behaviour and questioning continues to make me more and more paranoid but then they close the interview and offer to drive me back to the city. I'm thinking - have I just imagined all this? Am I really that paranoid?

I must have been back in the city for about 5 minutes, for 5 minutes I felt like the weight was lifted and then bang - I start joining dots again. I dont know how I'd even convinced myself I was ok for 5 minutes, the whole thing was screaming dodgy. It was this strange down, up, down of emotion again - when you've lived under a black cloud for so long and then suddenly it feels like its dicipating and then bang - it reappears again. Really screws with your head. Like being in hell and then being shown a glimpse of heaven and then falling straight back down into hell again. 

Eventually I'd worked it out - they'd pulled me in to confirm I was in Norwich because there was no official record of it and no one knew my name in Norwich - they needed to confirm that a Luke Haywood had lived in Norwich at the address I'd stayed at, and that I was that Luke Haywood - and they used the fraud case as a rouse to bring me in to get that information. It was all making sense. 'Ok so they'll be knocking any time soon' I'm thinking. 

It must have been then that I put the email together about the whole thing, and came up with the 'trying to get the police to come' story - emailing it to the snowyfeatherstone address. I chose this name because it was the name of a guy in a documentary I'd watched with my Dad. 'The War Our Grandfathers Were In' something like this. Sounded unique enough to be available. I'd even considered it as a future name. 

I meant to send it on my Mums phone but sent it on the home IP by mistake and then realised the police would have pulled it up. I dont know why I thought they wouldn't monitor my Mums, maybe they were, I just took that risk. Anyway, I now realised they'd have the email so would wait longer for something else. 

2 years clean and sober I am at this point, 2 years.... anyone who's been in recovery for 2 years will explain how its changed their lives, everythings beautiful, haven't got to worry about police, they've got a job, friends.... not me. 2 years in and I'm completely losing my mind still waiting for a knock from the police. 

Of course I tell my parents and they think there's nothing to worry about - it must just be in my head.

I remember my sister came to see Mum and Dad and I was there and my daughter was there and we're all having dinner and she presented me with this watch 'we're so proud of you Luke' engraved on the back for getting 2 years clean and sober - I had to leave the room before I had a breakdown, they're all so proud of me whilst I'm hating myself, expecting judgement day to happen at any moment, absolutely destroying everything once again.

So I'm beating myself up about everything and realise I've been 2 years clean and sober but there's still this thing inside me I'm trying to kill. I'd tried the Ayahuasca thing with no luck but I've been reading about DMT. I contact an old mate and explain how I'm 2 years but I'm still not healed, I need some spiritual help. He refuses at first but eventually orders me some DMT off the dark web and sends it to me.

I smoke a bit of this stuff but I do it whilst medicated because I'm so anxious about what it will do to me if I'm med-free and dont get the experience I'm expecting. It's a mind blowing experience, still - lots of geometric shapes but no entities as usually reported. I return to life and it all starts to mess with my head - especially my belief. I had been back on the whole God thing but this shifted my whole belief system, I didn't know where my head was at. People report coming back theists but this put me back on the agnostic scale.

I started to convince myself it had done some harm to my head and was obsessing about it. I remember one evening going to the toilet and my mind was completely blank - I couldn't conjour up a thought. I'm aware my heads blank and I'm trying to start a thread but its not coming - it was shaking me up. Eventually a thought came and I felt so much relief.

I then ordered some shrooms but I dont think I touched them. My head at this point was all over the place and I was worried what another trip would do. 

My weights starting to get out of control again, too. I dont know why I thought buying pre-workouts and overtraining would be a good idea, but I did it and it wasn't. I also bought a load of downers online to deal with how much they wire your brain. I thought if I use enough downers after then it wont mess with my head so much. I had a basket full of drugs for training and I'm overtraining, hard. About a month later I ended up relapsing. 

I think I then went to the library at some point and send another email, the address of which I cant remember. It's another 'getting the police to come' email. I swear to myself this isn't going to happen again.

I'm now having sleep paralysis and weird dreams, my mental health is all over the place. I have another astral-projection/ out-of-body experience moment where I float down the stairs in my parents house but then I'm attacked by a black sillhouette 'shadow person' who launches at me and I land at the bottom of the stairs. I then feel its fingers poking in my side and I wake up in bed. I interpreted this as a metaphor that my addiction was grabbing hold of me again.

Because my addiction had been released but I knew I was acting out on the internet, I started to buy pornography DVD's hoping I could just stick to them but of course the same thing happened, it works for a bit and then the floodgates open.

So I then relapse again, and again. I cant remember what was going on in between but I'm basically losing my grip, things are on top of me. I'm going to the library writing emails and constantly panicking expecting a knock. 

I cant remember exactly what I did, I'm pretty sure the majority of it was dialogue and pornography. Again, trying to stick to pornography but once I've had enough coke or hit a big enough pipe or smoked enough, it all goes out of the window. 

I used my Mums IP to try and hide the usage but then the data ran out so I switched to the WIFI. I literally knew the police were monitoring yet my urge to use these machines was uncontrollable once I'd smoked crack. Even whilst knowing it could put me in prison for a long time, my urge to masturbate kept overriding my need to keep safe.

I remember trying to visit old sites but the links had broken or didn't work. I sent links of images because I didn't want to save them on the phone. Later I would say I only went onto videos for a few seconds to prove I wasn't watching them but the truth is the player didn't work on the TV. I stuck to dialogue and porn mainly because I knew no sites. In all honesty I think another reason I stick to dialogue is because its safe. Thats always been my main thing.

I was aware that I was being watched but because I was so high, I wasn't able to control what I was saying. When I thought about it the following day, it messed with my head realising most if not all of that stuff was being read. I thought what was being read would be read by officers who had read it all before and were conditioned to it, as much as I was. Looking back now I realise they must have thought I was the devil.

I now know that stuff will have been read by a lot of people and there's no way anyone wouldn't have read it back then and thought I was a piece of shit who was a danger to children. Obviously I know that I'm not, and I thought because I hadn't been visited yet the police knew I wasn't as well otherwise they would have visited. I thought they'd concluded I was just an internet user, it didn't make sense for all of this to happen and them to not kick the door down. The longer things went on, the more I was convinced this was the case. How would they let a danger to children walk the streets for years? Surely they knew the situation; they'd spoken to enough people, done enough investigating, they'd worked out the truth already. It wasn't until much later when literally the world was cutting me off that I thought they'd concluded I was a danger and didn't want me meeting people who could be parents. I now believe they dont think I'm a danger to children and that I was being isolated further so that they could direct me to this place where its just me so that they could do the hypnosis, hypnotherapy, etc.

I remember going to my friends and I'm telling myself I'm just going to have a beer. I was trying so hard not to do a line, then as soon as I had a line, the internal dialogue starts in my head. It's like a dark version of me, and the desire to go to the computer is uncontrollable. Within a short amount of time I'm walking home.

This was the first time I really realised the effect the cocaine has on me. One minute I'm fine and masturbation is the last thing on my mind, the second the coke hits me, the dialogue starts and I'm being drawn to the internet. Then the ammonia comes out. Few days later I'm buying a new TV.

I'm doing so many downers and meds mixed at this point my mental health is like a rollercoaster, I was really unwell. I remember having a beer at my friends, just one beer and I completely lost balance, I couldn't even stand up. I nearly smashed his house up trying to leave and on the way home I was falling in bushes, then when I got home I flew into the wall and smashed a light fitting. I was taking so many different drugs my head didn't know what was going on. I had to get off all of these drugs and quick. 

I remember going back to my flat, packing in about 8 different chemicals I'd been taking, and I went into a deep depression and got really ill, nightmares, the lot. About 2 days in to the withdrawals I had some protein shake and my eyes started wobbling, it was like there was liquid in them. I called 111 panicking and explained everything and of course I end up getting put through to a mental health line. I knew it was physical but I wasn't getting any help, so I had to just return to the withdrawals and battle it myself.

I remember watching 'The Counsellor' - the endings dark and really messed my head up. I thought to myself 'when the universe ends everything will be darkness - so the darkness will win' I wasn't right for days. 

Then when I started getting my feelings back, I remember looking at my hands, everything was glowing, it was like I was coming back to life and I had this big burst of energy like, maybe this has all happened for a reason.

This was the first time I seriously started thinking about confession, I thought to myself, this is all such a mess, I'm in such a mess, I cant handle any more - Luke, just throw the towel in. 

But when I considered what I had to confess to, it just scared the life out of me, not before long I'm back to fight mode.

Another two relapses later I'm in an absolute mess running about writing stuff and sending more emails, doing everything I can to make this lie work. I didn't even want to type the lies in emails anymore because I was worried certain words might flag up on Google and the police would see the documentation I was withholding so I started writing things.

I remember saying in the emails that I'd asked the woman who sold me the phone to put my address to it to prove I wasn't trying to hide it - this was a lie. She sold me the phone but when I got home it wouldn't charge so I took it back, when I took it back, she said she needed an address assigned to it because I'd taken it back, so I gave her the address. She was actually acting quite weirdly too and I wondered if she was communicating with the police.

I became convinced a lot of tech shops were communicating with the police or if they hadn't then would be, off licenses, too, gradually everywhere seemed to be acting dodgier with me.

There was one evening I went to my friends and did coke again, I cant remember when exactly. It may have even been the following year, but not long after doing it, I set off home and get really ill on the way. When I got back, I was just really sick, illness consumed me. I remember how relieved I was that I'd got sick and nothing stupid happened. 

I remember going through the dates I knew I'd relapsed and working out they were all at the end of the month. Then I realised two were on the last Thursday and one on the last Friday I think it was. Because they seemed organised, I used this to make it look like it was intentional. I was doing anything I could to make it all fit. I then sent the email and hoped it would be enough.

Then I started thinking deeper into it and came up with more lies which I wrote down to hold back until the police arrived. After a while I got too anxious about having all this written stuff on me and took photos of it and emailed it to a safe address and then threw away the written papers. 

Then I got so paranoid I wouldn't even throw away the papers, I'd tear them up and flush them. That's how sketched out I was. 

If there was something I could do, then I was going to do it. Anything to get out of this huge mess I'd created. 

I must have looked like an absolute psychopath to the police, but I wasn't considering how I looked, I was considering what I could do. I'd been fighting this thing for years and I didn't want to give up now. Every time I looked at the story I was just coming up with new things I could say to save everything, I wasn't looking at it through their eyes. Now I can see. I can see how it looks - I can see how I look. All I can do now is tell the truth, and if people will forgive me, that's up to them. I'm sorry, I really messed up. I messed up on a catastrophic scale, got myself into one of the biggest messes a man ever got himself in. And it all started with one lie, one lie years and years ago - I didn't know that this one lie would one day turn into a huge web of deceit that I was going to become so trapped in it would be impossible to escape. 

2021

This was when I realised there was no way I could touch preworkouts anymore, they always led to a relapse. And this time it had led to a bunch of relapses. I've never touched them since. Later in the year I'm stop fasting, too. I was really starting to realise the fragility of my mental health. I had to look after myself, if I looked after myself, I could just about cope with life without anything stupid happening.

I then sent a phone to my friend that had written documents on it to look after. I just told him I didn't want the police taking it when they came, reassuring him it was safe. I tell him the plan is to get it back once I've been nicked - and he's cool with it.

Couple months later I get anxious that it might get robbed or lost and ask him to post the phone back, sending him the money to post it by recorded delivery. But he just sends it regular, next thing I know I'm getting a 'the post is behind your bin' note from Hermes - and there's nothing behind the bin. Immediately I'm thinking the police have had it. That was the last time I spoke to my mate of 20 years.

Then I'm outside my flats one day and a couple drive by in a car and the woman is gesturing towards me and the driver looks in my direction, I decide they must be undercover police. Looking back now I may have been wrong but at the time I was so suspicious of everyone I'm jumping to conclusions all over the place - everyones a potential officer.

I cant remember when I realised my estate agents over the road from the flat were communicating with the police but I was sure they were by now. Their energy was off, I didn't even want the blinds open because I knew they were all looking over. For the past couple years I'd been suspicious the make-up place on the other side of the road could have a camera in it on my flat, now I'm becoming convinced. My paranoia was driving me mad.

Then the library started acting dodgy with me, then the post office, next thing I'm suspicious everyones communicating with the police. I had to keep talking my head out of paranoia, some people I was convinced about, others I was just suspicious of. 

I think it was about this time I started speaking to Emma from the mental health clinic again but obviously I explained all this and she thinks its mental health. Of course I expected that to happen, but she was all I had, I just hoped maybe I could convince her.

I couldn't believe what had just happened in this past year, I had been just about managing, 2 years clean and sober I made it and then out of nowhere all of that had happened. But still no knock, it was just giving me hope. Maybe, just maybe things would somehow work out and my family wouldn't be destroyed.  

But I couldn't go on with this anymore, I needed them to come, whatever was going to happen, I wanted it to just happen. So I sent an email saying I was going to jump in front of a train, maybe they'd come then.. then I realised no, they wont care if I die - I'll tell them I'm taking someone with me. Of course I wasn't going to do this, I just thought maybe they'll come if they thought someone elses life was at risk... few days later, no one comes. 

I then had a relapse on some street rock and managed to keep it to pornography, I didn't have much, I think the relapse lasted a couple hours.

Then I'm back to the emails, explaining myself again....

The emails and documentation soon become an obsession and I'm writing what's turning into a book and constantly sending emails in a constant state of paranoia and anxiety. 

I then started to become addicted to cocodomol again, I'd been using it a lot in the past but now I'm getting through boxes of the stuff and its making me really ill. It was helping to numb out the pain but it wasn't strong enough. Nothing was strong enough to numb out the pain I was going through.

I now weighed 21 stone, and was losing more and more hair. I was a mess. I'd just turned into this big overweight man-child. I hadn't worked for years and was living on benefits whilst depending on my parents all the time for lifts and lends - I just wanted to be a man again. Get a job or start a business, get a partner, start living life again. I hated what my life had become.  

I just laid on the sofa eating and watching TV, doing nothing productive. I was so depressed I didn't have the energy for anything. I'd been living like this for years now. I was so lonely I wrote a letter to a female prisoner in Texas, just to try and make a new friend I knew wouldn't speak to police. We wrote back and forth a couple times.

But I was still trying to heal, even in the midst of the madness, I started to get in touch with my younger self, buying nostalgic things that reminded me of my youth, back before everything got so ugly. I bought an old mega drive too, things like this. I hadn't given up on my soul just yet. 

I remember buying an Audrey Hepburn book and a magazine with Miss Elizabeth on it, Audrey Hepburn I'd always had a thing for and Miss Elizabeth was the crush of my early years, I was trying to reconnect with that innocent part of myself when I fancied Miss Elizabeth in my youth, trying to rewire my brain from this attraction to peversity to something more pure. It had completely ruined my life - I wanted to get back to who I was before.

But it wasn't working, nothing was - and I then had another relapse on street rock towards the end of the year. Another porn relapse that lasted a couple hours. I didn't cross any lines, but still - a relapse is a relapse. 

I remember at some point buying some pornography magazines online. My sex drive was sky high and I felt like I needed some material and got into this habit of buying magazines, my theory was that if I stuck to the magazines then it wouldn't lead to anything online. But then after some time of having the magazines I started fantasising about taking drugs and masturbating to the magazines, so eventually I relapsed, but after some time with the magazines I got drawn to the internet and then watched some pornography on the TV. The relapse ended there. 

I got really paranoid after that relapse and thought police were in the vacinity, and wrote another note of explanation and put it in my wallet. I then walked round the block a couple times, not sure even why to be honest, I cant remember. All I remember is it pooring down with rain and me wondering why I'd even bothered relapsing, again. Nothing enjoyable about it at all, just messed with my head more.

Another Christmas came and went, another Christmas with my family trying to act normal but expecting it all to fall to shit at any moment. I hadn't had a Christmas where I could actually relax with my family for years, and I wasn't about to have one any time soon, either. 

2022

I cant remember what it was exactly but one day I bought something on eBay and later resold it. It felt good doing something other than just sitting on the sofa wasting away, so then I sold a couple other things. It wasn't long before I was selling a bunch of stuff on eBay. Then I realised what I was doing in the eyes of the law was basically trading and after some time I eventually stopped to avoid repurcussions - I had enough problems. 

Then later on that year I had a bunch of nostalgic stuff I'd bought over the past months and decided to sell some. 'Just a few bits' I told myself, justifying it. I just wanted something to do. 

At some point I managed to get the shirt Arnold Shwarzneggar steals from the biker gang at the beginning of Terminator 2. Terminator 2 really meant something to me because of relating to Sarah Connor so much. I would later list this on eBay and get a call from someone posing as a potential customer who I would soon click was an officer. 

After some time I stopped selling the nostalgic stuff as well, deciding it wasn't worth the hassle and there was still no sign of the police, so I listed the shirt on Propstore. It would later fetch £4k. 

I then bought some animation cells and started storing them. The plan was to keep the cells until everything was over and then I could sell the cells and have some money to start my new life.

My anxiety had got so bad over the years that when I was in Banbury I'd barely leave the house, then one day I plucked up the courage to finally go out for a walk with my daughter. When we got back she told me she was proud of me for not being scared. Bless her.

The one thing I could never get over was however many times I thought everything was fucked, there always seemed to be something that would give me hope. How could this thing drag on for so long and still never get a knock? It was like God was fixing me. That's what I started putting it all down to - God. It was like the whole thing had been orchestrated in such a way that I had to heal. I was at a point now where apart from some opiates, I had no desire to drink or take drugs. I'd used drugs a couple times in the past year and a half - low grade street rock - but had just watched pornography, with absolutely no enjoyment. I was done with it all. I'd learnt a lot and God had helped me through. I'd realised how much I love my family and how important they are to me. More important than any amount of drugs and drink. And now I had this nest egg ready for my new life. Maybe at some point soon I could really be a son and a Dad.

Up until this point I had just been listening to Irish Folk and an Indie band called Paper Kites but my faith in God seemed to be returning I started listening to my gospel music again. Maverick City, IBC, Urshan College, etc constantly. The transition happened overnight - it was like one minute my faith was gone and the next minute it hits me again out of nowhere.

This was when the signs really started hitting me, I was interpreting more things as some sort of metaphor or sign from God. And the songs were speaking to me more and more, some felt like they had been made for me. 

I remember laying on my bed playing 'Potters House' by Tramaine Hawkins. It was a really weird moment, almost like she was speaking directly to me - "the potter wants to put you back together again" - the lyrics weren't even that specific to me on this occasion but it just felt like, I dont know - I had a moment. Part of me wonders if this is when the hypnosis started because I now wonder if I was programmed by the hypnosis to read into the signs more.

At some point I confided in my Mum again but she'd heard it on and off over the years, it was falling on deaf ears. I think I ran it by my Dad again as well. They knew I was convinced, had been for years, to them it was just a paranoid delusion they tried to not entertain.

It was now coming up to five years since it had all happened.  My plan was to get rid of the technology and then do everything I possibly could to get this to end, so I planned for March 18th, by then it would have been five years. Something was telling me to go sooner but because I'd planned March 18th for so long, my OCD was telling me I had to do it in March 18th. It was like that date kept repeating in my head for a reason. So I stuck with March 18th.

I knew I may have to confess at some point which was hard, or maybe I'd lose the case, so I was obviously worried. I couldn't believe after everything I'd been through that I was going to have to go through more. I just hoped this was all Gods plan, He was fixing things - hopefully things would work out and then I could put everything behind me and finally have my life back.

The hardest part was that over the years, I had now redeveloped a really good relationship with my parents, better than it had ever been and had an amazing relationship with my daughter. I couldn't believe that I had to tackle this thing now and things were going to get really ugly. Regardless of what happened, I knew there was going to be a big battle with the police one way or another and that everything was going to be blown out of the water. I had to prepare myself.

I still had a tv that I'd hot-spotted pornography to and I knew I'd never changed the TV in the bedroom, I'd also used my Mums phone on a bender. Tech I had to disown. I got rid of the TV's first and then told my mum I'd had a conversation with a friend on her phone that I thought might implicate me and asked her if we could get rid of the phone, which we did. She didn't believe it was a problem because she thought it was all in my head but was willing to do it to put my mind at rest. 

I'd already sworn to myself I wouldn't get my Mum involved, I had to handle this on my own. At some point something changed and I just decided I had to do everything I could. I wish I'd never done that.

Then the next day the phone I'd just thrown in the bin connected to the TV to screencast. The exact make and model of the phone I'd thrown. My anxiety levels were now out of control. I'm thinking 'if the place wasn't already bugged then it definitely was now'.

Then I realised that the front door lock was dodgy, I realised what must have happened, whilst my parents were away, the police came in and rigged the house.

I know the chronology of a lot of the events will be wrong, just to make it clear, I'm aware the police have footage of everything so if something's wrong, it's not me lying - I can't. I just can't remember the exact order and all the events perfectly. 

I then confessed to my Mum, a watered-down version of everything, from start to finish. And everything that's going through my head. She thinks I'm losing my mind. 

I had had a problem with abusing opiates now and then over the years which would numb the thoughts in my mind, mainly codeine and some methadone. But my anxiety levels hit such a high that I was now taking a lot of the stuff and my constipation problems soon developed into chronic constipation which was just making my anxiety and stress levels worse.

I then wrote an explanation of what had happened and put the paper in my wallet, more lies. More explaining, trying to get out of this huge mess I was in. 

I then travelled back to my flat and noticed the camera had been moved and a couple posters pulled down. I then went and bought what I'm pretty sure was a bottle of Teachers, I hadn't been drinking at all and rarely, if ever, bought Teachers - but for some reason on this evening I bought a bottle of the stuff. This would then be used as a trigger a year later.

Once I'd drunk the bottle I emailed over a photo of what I'd written in my wallet. My anxiety was now hitting serious levels and my paranoia was off the scale.

I tried to explain things to someone at the mental health clinic, I think it was Emma, who of course thought it was all in my head. I must have explained it all to my Mum, too. I also called an old friend I think and told him. Obviously everyone I told thought I was completely losing the plot, they'd all heard similar things in the past and nothing had ever came of it.

Then I spoke to a psychiatrist about it and was just met with accusations of taking drugs which of course I wasn't at the time, having only done drugs a handful of times in the space of a few years. Then he got very stern about me calling him 'mate' - "I'm not your friend" he said. I came off the phone feeling iller than I'd started.

I stopped using the mental health clinic because it was actually making me iller. I'd spent years trying to talk about this problem and everyone thought it was in my head and I was constantly being told it was in my head. But I knew this was real. Even if I explained the whole thing to someone, they'd just think I was mentally ill.

I'm not sure when I heard the Tiffany Hudson song 'Quiet' - but I felt it was telling me to be quiet. Stop emailing, stop going on about it, just shut up and leave it to God. The whole thing, even in the interview room. But I was so ill that I couldn't shut up, I couldn't give it to God. I was just fighting and fighting as much as I could, trying to save my family. 

My biggest worry was if this ever went to court, I'd have to swear on the Bible. This was a huge concern for me. After everything I'd been through with God, swearing on the Bible and not telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth was something I really didn't want to do. I prayed, hoping maybe it wouldn't make it that far and I wouldn't have to put my hand on a Bible, but I knew it would. There was no way I wasn't going to end up in a courtroom. 

Then I started thinking the police were scanning the flat and the house from outside. More people had stopped speaking to me, more staff in stores were dealing with me in a strange way. Everyone was a potential officer or working with officers. 

I knew people were talking about me and I was imagining their conversations which I'd always done, but now it was just getting out of control in my mind. When my anxiety was high enough, I'd be convinced I knew what they were saying and then if it dropped, I'd question it.

And all this anxiety was causing more and more problems with my bowels. I was abusing laxatives because the constipation was so bad, and almost anything I'd eat would cause constipation. I was losing weight fast because of the laxative abuse and was having to constantly treat the constipation with enema and suppositories. And for some reason anything I'd smoke would give me a headache and so then I'd have to use painkillers to treat the headache, but it seemed even paracetomol would give me constipation. I was so ill.

This was when I think I started to doubt my faith again. After everything I'd lived through and now I had this going on as well. Anxiety, depression, stress and paranoia was completely consuming me. I would lay in bed saying "God please help me" but just felt completely hopeless. 

I then became convinced that because the police needed more evidence, maybe a corrupt officer would plant something in the flat when my electric ran out and my security camera lost power, so I travelled to Kidderminster with my Dad to top up the meter so I could still view my security camera from my phone. 

It was about this time I started getting suspicious the meter was being doctored. Literally anything I could get paranoid about I was. And I was sure the flat was bugged.

Then I realised a number was linked to my Paypal which I became concerned I'd had an argument with an old friend on where he said something that could implicate me. So I travelled all the way to West Brom just to get a phone to send an email on to try and explain it away. I spent the whole day travelling in the blistering heat just for the sake of one anxiety.

This had constantly happened over the years, thinking of something that could be a problem and then I'd obsess about it until I did everything I could to try and defuse the anxiety, then something else would come up. This constant state of anxiety had now been going on for years and I was finally completely losing my grip on reality. 

I even tore pages out of my journal that referred to SAA meetings or sexual abstinence, because this would suggest I had a problem with sex. I was that paranoid.

I think it was towards the end of 2022 that I got an internet connection. I hadn't had one for 5 years nearly, so I got one on Cuckoo and got a Reddit account. To keep myself busy I set up a couple conspiracy Subreddits, /exposingcabalrituals and /projectbluebeam and a blog thenewworldtimes.online, trying to take my mind off things. One of the guys I set up the first Subreddit with was called DominicGall7, who I now believe was an officer.

It was about this time I started speaking to someone on the Lexulous app called Logosterix, which is like Scrabble. I had my suspicions he was an officer too but I had no friends left, it was nice just to talk to someone. Looking back now, it was obvious he was. I'm not sure how I convinced myself otherwise. Of course when I gave a brief explanation of my situation he replied "paranoia?" The same response I'd heard a million times before, more or less. 

I remember getting a screw driver and unscrewing the plugs in my room because I thought they had cameras in them, I had no idea what these cameras would look like but I knew it would be practically impossible to find them so eventually I just gave up. 

Christmas's had always been hard but this was by far the hardest one. Knowing one way or another, this was soon going to come to a close and everything was going to fall to pieces for my family and me. And I could barely eat because of the laxative abuse, my body couldn't process anything. I was so ill.

I remember watching Triangle of Sadness with my family. I interpreted the end of the film as a metaphor. I was trying to get through my jail time to see my mum and my past of addiction was trying to kill her before I finished the jail time. I had to leave the room because I was welling up and went to cry outside. I started to wonder why I was interpreting all these things as some sort of metaphor, or sign, message. I kept thinking it must be God, but why would he send me this? It was just a weird metaphor. Maybe it was telling me to keep fighting, maybe it was telling me to confess - maybe I could get out in time if I did. I didn't know what to think, my head was all over the place and I was just getting more and more confused by the day.

2023

I think it was the new year when I watched The Whale at some time around this point which was about a man deep in addiction. I understood his battle and the film spoke to me in a lot of ways. Then at some point in the film someone spots a Bible and not much later he says "just write something honest" - I'd been writing bullshit for so long that this felt like a sign, too. I was being told just stop with all these lies and just say the truth.

I considered writing it - I needed to. But I was so concerned about writing a confession - I had created such a mess. I was going to write it just to see how I felt about it first, would it feel good getting the truth down or scare the shit out of me? And if I wrote it, was I being watched? Whenever I wrote something I'd be concerned I was being watched. I'd even shield my writing in case there was a camera nearby me. It was hell. 

And now the laxative abuse was continuing and just making me iller. I was taking 10 laxatives at one point and had to eat just specific veg mainly. I could barely think straight.

I even became convinced once I'd lost an enema tube inside me and went half an hour to the hospital to be X-rayed. Got there, X ray, no enema tube. It was all in my head.

Then I had some chest problems and convinced myself I was having a heart attack. Called 999, no ambulances for code 2 for 12 hours or something it was. Layed down for a while and was ok. Any small trigger about my health and I was jumping to conclusions and going crazy over something minor. 

It was absolute hell trying to deal with this mental head whilst going through what I was going through. The last 10 years had already been a constant hell but this was just ridiculous. And I wasn't even using drugs, I was completely clean. I just prayed something would change soon. 

Anyone who I communicated with would cut me off in no time, I knew it was the police. Literally anyone, for example one minute I'm taking the window cleaners number, next minute he's blanking me. 

I didn't want to pray in the flat because I didn't want my words to be heard so I'd walk to a bridge by the canal. There was a silver car that was always parked there. I thought maybe it had a camera on me because I was going to this bridge often. Then I wondered if the bridge had been bugged. I'd look up at the stars and just ask God why. But I wasn't getting answers. 

Getting a rope and going to the woods was crossing my mind but I just couldn't end it. I'd been through so much and lived through so much that hanging from a tree just didn't seem like the right way to go. Surely there was some reason for all of this, some divine reason for everything that had happened over the years. 

By now I was absolutely convinced pretty much every shop was unsafe, either they knew about me or they'd be informed about me soon. 

I then went to a GP, not sure about what, but I completely lost it. We got onto the topic of my mental health and once my psychiatrist was mentioned, I started to lose it. Thinking about my psychiatrist had become a trigger for me because of how much he'd upset me. I ended up going off on one at the GP, threw a chair at the wall and then left the building.

Of course no police came which just added to the million reasons why I knew the police were closing in on me. One way or another this was going to end soon, I thought. A year ago... 

I then got a letter saying I was banned from the GP and had to be registered as tier 2 for 'dangerous patients' - this was a special service where you have to go to a specialised GP for care, which I did and was prescribed Quetiapine again. 

One day I decide I'm going to end it by getting arrested, maybe they'll turn up then. I drunk a couple bottles of wine and looked at the meter and I think it was this time I looked at it and it said 33:33 - I should have listened to the sign, but I didn't... I went into town, then to Tescos and as I walk in there's an officer there. I gave him the finger as I went into the toilets and when I come out, him and a security guard approach me. After a scuffle I end up against a window and the next thing I know I'm in the back of a van. I'm thinking 'finally this will end'.

When we get to the station I explain what I've been going through and the events and I can see the police officer is realising he's stumbled on something bigger than he thought. After getting booked in and put in a cell, I spend some time in there and then a woman comes over and says "Luke, we're going to let you out because we dont think its good for you to be in here" - no interview, no charge - nothing. 

A while later I'm thinking back to that day and my head was really all over the place, more than normal, I start to wonder if it was some sort of episode and Google 'can alcohol induce an episode' - thinking back now I believe it was the hypnosis, anxiety, alcohol, everything rolled up into one. I was losing it every 5 minutes.

At some point I get a Nintendo Switch so I can play Animal Crossing with my daughter but after a couple days, she stops getting my messages and I cant visit her island. I start losing it again - I cant even communicate with my daughter without the police blocking it. 

I then started calling PC Lamb and texting him going mad trying to get him to admit whats happening but he just keeps on denying. It's driving me nuts.

I was so mentally ill and in need of getting things off my chest that I needed to talk to a therapist. I'd avoided it over the years because talking to people about it had always made my head worse, not better. But I found a guy online and went to his house. I was careful about what I said but it was still good to talk. Of course when I left I became paranoid about a camera that he said was switched off. I thought maybe he'd been compromised by the police or if the police visited they could get the footage. He assured me it was definitely off and on our next meeting we went for a walk instead just to put my mind at rest. 

When I explain things to this guy, I can see in his eyes - he's starting to actually believe me. He thinks I'm onto something.. 

But then my therapist and GP stopped picking up the phone to me, too - of course I knew it was the police telling them not to talk to me. The whole world was against me and I had nothing I could do.

I was still sending all sorts of emails in a fit of rage and anger but I didn't mean anything I was saying, I was just losing my grip trying to look innocent. In my mind, I was the hero trying to save my family and the police were the villains trying to destroy it. I wasn't some evil villain - I was like a scared little boy trying to do everything he could to fix this mess he was in. It was torture. 

I then decided to get a cross tattoo to cover the one I had on my arm, it was to mark the end of this whole phase since I'd got the chest cross years before. A few days later I went back to get 'Family' on my chest and the woman in there's energy had changed. I realise she's been speaking to police, too. It was happening everywhere. 

March 18th was now approaching and I knew I probably wouldn't be seeing my daughter for a long time so I took her to London for a day out. Every time I looked at her and she smiled at me I smiled back as best as I could but inside I was dying. I just wanted to give her something she could remember me by.

I spent the next few days in constant worry, I knew I had to tackle this now.. I remember thinking to myself there's gotta be some sort of sign soon, so I go to see my parents and when I walk into the front room they're watching the Hatton Garden Job - that's the sign right there. The exact same film I watched at the cinema the day I assaulted Sirajel and got my first cross. I need to do this, Gods telling me to do it now.

At some point around this time I buried the cells in the garden and hid some cash in a plant. 

Pretty much everything was now triggering my anxiety and weird things started happening, more so than before. I was constantly being poked by the police which I assumed was them pressuring me to tackle the problem. Looking back now I realise it was simply to raise my anxiety high enough that I'd relapse. 

I then explained everything that was going on to my parents and by now they're starting to worry, too. After years of trying to convince them, they're finally starting to see - I was right the whole time. 

I then explained to my parents I was going to go to Kidderminster to try and get this dealt with soon and got a train there. When I arrived my Dad texted me 'did you get the gun' (referring to a bb gun) - so then I travelled back just to tell him not to text me about guns because otherwise we could end up with armed response storming the house. I then went back to Kidderminster. 

Next thing I know I'm relapsing all over the place, walking into my Estate Agents with a wrench, taking a bat to the Estate Agent windows, accusing people around the town of working for the police, emailing, texting and calling PC Lamb telling them to end this and just come, and still no ones coming. I'm in bits.

And now even people I've scored with are working for the police - but denying it - at this point its like the whole town are working with the police. Nowhere's safe. 

I then came back from Tescos one evening and I swear I could see torch lights in my flat so I ran back hoping to catch them in there but when I open the door, the place is empty. I was sure they were in a flat nearby, just like in Banbury - I knew they were nextdoor or over the road but didn't know exactly where so there was nothing I could do about it. If I did I would have knocked on the door. 

I arranged to see a solicitor, too. But my anxiety and paranoia override my intention and it never happens. I even went back to the solicitors a second time and the woman at reception was acting strangely with me, I became convinced the police had spoken to them as well. 

Then I message the guy on Lexulous, Logosterix, the one I think's an officer, and I send him "if you've been a cop this whole time you can go fuck yourself" - he replies "who's living rent free in who's head now, mate?" with a flurry of emojis, then blocks me.

I then go to see my parents for a bit, and after a while I relapse again. Then my youngests Mum comes round and I become convinced she's messing with my mind. I get her to leave the house and she's still messing with me. I've gone through this for years with her so I start thinking I'm gonna do something about it and within a few days I'm taking a sledgehammer to a barbers.

Still no visit from the police and I'm running out of ideas, what do I have to do for this to end? More emails, more panicking. The only thing keeping my mind occupied is my Reddit pages and blog but I'm convinced they're swarming with police. Well, I know they are. On one post, I read this:

'Google, please show me this mans balls'
'Error 404: balls not found'

The police are prodding me and taunting me and messing with my mind but refusing to appear, its driving me up the wall.

I've sent letters to constabularies, letters to Scotland Yard, letters to PC Lamb, calls, emails, texts. I've done all of this madness, still - nothing. 

At some point I then realised the poster at my parents house seemed to synchronise perfectly with my situation, every word of it related to what I'd gone through and was going through, 'Quoting Shakespeare' by Bernard Levin. Every time I'd look at it it was like it had been staring me at me this whole time but it wasn't until now that it all started to link together.

I start coming up with crazier ideas, one being cutting myself up and attacking Kidderminster police station - surely then they'll come. I'm running through this in my head, telling myself its a bad idea, and I go for a walk round the block. There's this old guy in a camo jacket standing by a little table and he's got this scroll in his hand he gives me, and he wants to talk about God. 'Gods got you son' he says, and puts his hand on my shoulder. I had to leave before I had another meltdown.

When I got home to the flat, I read the scroll, it was an old brown piece of paper and the old man had written on it what I think was John 3:16-18, but I'm not 100% because the police have now taken the scroll. I wish I knew because I've checked the following scripture 3:18-20 - this sign could have been even more powerful at the time if it was this one, maybe I was supposed to look into it. But I didn't.  

During all this time I keep listening to my gospel. Rance Allen 'I've Been In The Storm For Too Long' rung true. 

I still run the idea by my Mum anyway because I'm at my wits end, I don't know what else I can do. I knew if I got taken to hospital for the cuts I wouldn't be there for long and I remember saying to her I probably wouldn't be there for longer than 2 weeks and then they'd throw me in the nick. But one way or another, if I did it, I was convinced it would get them to come.

I remember saying to my Mum "they know I'm not crazy" and I thought by then that they'd have enough against me. I thought the main issue would be with the emails and documentation, not the diagnosis. But I didn't know why they still hadn't come, what were they waiting for? I couldn't understand what was going on. 

I then realised the quetiapine had been blocked to see how I reacted psychologically - if I'd get ill and do something. So if I did this - this was going to be me doing something.  

The idea keeps playing on my mind and eventually I give in to it, I've become obsessed about it at this point - if I do it then its gonna be the end of this thing and I'm sure of it. So I do it. I cut myself a bunch of times and attack the police station with a bat. 

When I'm arrested it seemed like they thought I had a vendetta against an individual or something so I made it clear "I dont have a problem with anyone personally, its a problem with the police" - I was very clear and coherent, keeping to the truth.

Next day I speak to my solicitor and he wants me to go no comment, I followed his advice for a few questions but eventually I just told them where I was at mentally and what was going on.

The solicitor the next day said she wanted to try and get me put into mental health support etc but I insisted I wanted to be sent to prison. I wanted this thing to end. After a court appearance I get 6 months so I'm expecting to serve 3. Off to Hewell. 

Hewell, Redditch

I get sent to Hewell prison in Redditch and my anxious behaviour is already making prisoners suspicious of me. Plus the fact I've got cuts all over my face. They then put me in a seperate room at reception because something was coming up on the x ray, raising more suspicion - I think this was the first time people suspected I was VP.

As days progress, people are becoming suspicious of me and my anxiety is sky high. I nearly get into a scrap on induction and then I get put on another wing for about an hour and then I'm put to another wing with a seperate cell.

That evening I think I can hear prisoners planning to kill me and I ring the alarm and explain to an officer, I'm whispering to him for help I think, cant remember. The next few days I refuse to leave my cell and officers are bringing me food.

Then I get moved to D wing and straight away someone messes with me and I'm thinking sooner or later it's gonna pop off.

The next few weeks my anxiety is all over the place and people are becoming even more suspicious of me, anything VP related gets mentioned and I'm losing it thinking they're testing me. I'm now spending a lot of the time trying to get off the wing and as time goes on, its getting closer and closer to something kicking off.

When the Oak Center come I explained how ill I was getting but they decide to leave me on the wing.

I'd spent a week straight trying to get off the wing now but I'm being kept on there, its like they're keeping me on there to mess with me. My canteen's getting messed with, prisoners are messing with me, I'm losing it. I spend some of the time just stood by my kettle in case someone comes in my cell to assault me. 

It was about this time I realised one of the officers was from my home town and was disclosing information to prisoners about me. I remember walking down the wing and hearing someone shout 'BANBURY' - so I turned round. Then I realised what had happened - they were checking to see if I was who she was telling them I was. 

I'm just about managing to hold them off, trying to keep my composure and not look like a victim. I then have a stand off in the meds hatch with one guy who I knew was a problem on the wing. I waited for him to get his meds and then walked out of the hatch in front of him and then I turned, expecting a fight. He walks past me and I follow him for a bit and then hung on the railings seeing whether he'd turn back or not but he keeps walking. At least now he knew I wasn't going to be a push over.

About 3 weeks in I send 3 letters to different police stations - Norwich, Birmingham and Scotland Yard I think. When I sat down, there was a storm and I saw 3 bolts of lightening in succession in the exact spots my eyes looked; left, right and then left but the 3rd one was slightly off from my glance. It felt like another divine moment.

I made friends with one guy and I gave him a shoulder and offered him my cross, he was my mate in there but later on he'd be collaborating with the police, too.

Prisoners are still testing me and shouting stuff at night, indirectly taunting me. After another visit from the Oak Center due to a referral made by an officer, I go back to my cell and I can tell prisoners are looking at me thinking I'm trying to psych myself off the wing. That night someones shouting to another prisoner about how easy it is to get off the wing if you want to get off, like he's taunting me about how I didn't make it off. By this point I know I'm going to be fighting soon - it was this evening I decided I'm getting out of there.

The cell directly opposite me had two guys who I can hear talking about me sometimes in the eve if I put my ear to the crack, one of thems always smirking at me and the other's always testing me, so I decide I'm going to do something about it and get myself off the wing in the process.

The second the door opens the next day I walk over the wing and assault the guy, in seconds I'm jumped on and taken back in my cell by officers.

I'm then banged up in my cell for a couple days and eventually someone tells me I'm going for my nicking and then I'll be back on the wing.. I'm thinking "no way, I'm getting off this wing" so on the way to my nicking I go for the guy I assaulted's mate, he's the one who'd been smirking at me. Again a couple officers jump me and I'm on my way for my nicking hoping they dont put me back on this wing. I was so glad to get off that flipping wing.

Seg

I remember when I got to seg for my nicking, I told them I'm not leaving until the police come. That was the plan, stay in seg until they come. When I got put in my cell I felt safe, out of the way of all the madness. I can just stay here until this ends. Little did I know what I was about to endure.

It must have taken 1, maybe 2 days until someone from my wing was put in seg. Constantly shouting "there's a paedo on the wing" whenever someone new got put on the block. At first it was pretty empty and whoever was there wasn't bothered but after about 3 or 4 days, the block got busy and it felt like it was all I could hear, prisoners talking about me.

Part of me was thinking to shout something back but I try not to get into squabbles, if I absolutely have to fight then I fight, it's that simple. But I'm not going to add fuel to a fire. I just stayed in my cell and was drawing pictures of the crucifixion and praying.

Not before long, it felt like literally everyone on the block was talking about me, shouting between cells, and my anxiety was raising and raising, I didn't even want to leave my cell for regime. I didn't come out for a few days or so and just stuck in my cell with a Bible I got from chaplaincy. A cleaner even spat by my door.

But at this point I was still managing just, cracking on. And then about a week in an officer from my wing was sent down and his behavior triggered me. He was acting really off key and had gone very quickly from a friendly laid back officer to an on the edge sketchy officer. I immediately knew he was working for the police and went into a fit of panic. I'm not sure why, I knew this would happen sooner or later. I accused him and of course he denied it, as everyone always had. Looking back now I realise he was put there to trigger me.

Then I noticed the behaviour of other officers changing, another one who was cool at first was suddenly looking at me like he wanted me dead. It wasn't long before I had to just assume everyone was working with the police. I trusted one, maybe two people.

This was when my mental health rapidly deteriorated and I started getting really ill. I was constantly hearing 'paedo' but it was like it was on loop, just constantly 'paedo, paedo, paedo' - even the flushing of the toilet sounded like it. I kept hearing music repeating and thought this airing system had been put there to see if I'd lose the plot or not. This only lasted a few days initially but different things would continue to happen on and off during my stay.

I then realised the officers were doing everything they could to make me ill, they messed with my vape so that it would only ever have a small amount of charge on it and I wasn't ever given a radio - although the other prisoners had one. The plan was to break me. 

I was now having a serious realisation of exactly how huge this thing was. Having time in solitary confinement gives you a lot of time to reflect, and that's I was doing - I was analysing everything that had happened over the last few years and what was happening now. Up until this point, I didn't realise the true severity of it, but things were now resurfacing in my mind from the past and I was having time to analyse things. When I started joining the dots, I started to realise - I'm in big, big trouble.

My head was telling me "just confess" and I swear it was on the tip of my tongue to say to the next officer I see "just tell the police to come and I'll confess now" obviously I'm then thinking they're not gonna come even if I say that, so what can do? I start thinking about writing a confession. And I did, about two lines until I got rid of it. It was too much. 

I now hadn't been out of my cell for a few days and I could tell the officers seemed to have some obsession with trying to get me out of the cell. But I already knew they weren't on my side so why would they care? I'd genuinely not wanted to leave the cell but now they were trying to get me to come out, it was obviously them thinking I'm playing the mental health card and trying to get me out of the cell. This was when I realised how crucial the psychosis part of all of this was. So I made the decision then not to come out.

Every time they'd try to get me out, it just made me more determined to stay in. Maybe I still had some chance at saving my family. But the longer I stayed in, the iller I got. Going through everything I was going through mentally on my own in that cell whilst dealing with people daily whos eyes bleed hatred, it's hard.

And I knew I was being tested, too. Memory tests and such. Every little thing that happened I thought was some sort of psychological test, and every time I'd convince myself I'd failed. Then I'd expect the police to come the next day, but then I'd get another psychological test. One day I'd have some hope, the next I'd lose it. I was constantly analysing everything, all the possibilities were driving me mad.

I had three options: fight, confess, suicide. I was losing hope at fighting - I was fading away, losing inner strength rapidly.. confession was too hard now that I'd realised everything with some true clarity.. so I just wanted to die. It felt like the only option I had. My head then went into this bermuda triangle of fear constantly going between the three. I'd spend hours, days going through these 3 options, and just ended up writing suicide letters and trying to work out how I'd do it and when.

I was now gradually starting to work out who the main officers working for the police were. There were some specific ones who I could just see in their eyes resented me. It didn't matter how much they'd hide it under the guise of kindness - the eyes dont lie - I could see the deception. I'm sure they could probably see it in my eyes, too. Every day was like a battle between deception and deception - it was dark. 

One day I accused these specific officers of being spies for the police, which I was convinced these ones were, and flipped my lunch away in anger at the denial, ready to launch for one - before I knew it the 4 of them rushed me and tackled me into the cell. I could tell from the beating I got that this wasn't just business, this was personal - one of them had very strongly called me a cunt while they were doing it as well, and I could tell he meant it. 

I then laid on the floor and heard one mocking how I was laid "did you see how he's laying on the floor like this" laughing, probably impersonating me laying there and then I cant hear what another said but I heard the response "fuck him man"

I must have laid there for a few minutes just wanting to kill myself and I thought no, I'm not gonna let these people drag my dead body out of this cell. I'm not letting this end like that.

3 of these 4 officers would turn into 3 people who it became hard dealing with, knowing what was going on. I remember thinking "no one gives a fuck if I die" - then I realised - why would they? 

I knew who these officers were and I knew they hated me. But I understood. There were times I would start thinking about lashing out, having a crack at one, but where had fighting got me so far?

I think it was this time when I received a nicking sheet and the name was 'Byrd' - for some reason I came to the conclusion he was the brother of the woman on D wing who had disclosed information to people about me. I concluded she was a Hazel Byrd from my town who was at a point friends with my sister about 25-30 odd years ago. I thought they were brother and sister, then much later on I'd be told a completely different officer was Byrd. I'd imagined the whole thing.

I know this sounds crazy but it happened - it bothers me I have to say it because people will think I'm lying but when there's something as significant as this which happened in my life, I'm not going to withhold it. One day I'm laying in my bed on my side after waking up and I see a vision of a woman newsreader and at the bottom of the screen it says "SAY GOODBYE TODAY" - its like I fell straight in and out of a dream. I'm thinking, what the hell does this mean. Then later that day Moena, a woman from the prison comes to my cell. The week before I hadn't said goodbye and it had bothered me all week. So I made sure I said goodbye.

I swear to God this is the truth. It's another reason I believe something divine must have happened here, it's things like this in my life that have led to this confession. If these things hadn't happened, I probably wouldn't be alive and I probably wouldn't be doing this. 

When I got really ill I just wanted to be in darkness, so I would hide under my covers and pretend I was buried, or just read my Bible. I just wanted to be dead. Constantly being stared at by these officers through the cell door window was messing with my head - I didn't even want to look at them so I would cover myself in my blankets. 

Then I realised they were banging on my door sometimes, I wondered why and worked out they were checking if I'd shake - whether I was hearing voices - seeing if I was putting one on. This wasn't even intended - to look ill. But when they started dealing with me like I was trying it I just started staying under my covers. I thought if a man doesn't want to come out of his cell and he wants to stay under his sheets then why cant he? I told myself, that's not lying. I was so lost in deception I was even justifying this to myself.

But I knew if I got institutionalised it wouldn't take long for them to realise I wasn't hearing voices, I wasn't going to lie about that. I didn't do it with my GP, I didn't do it in the interview room regarding the Kidderminster attack, I didn't do it with the psychiatrist or anyone on D wing, and I never once mentioned hearing voices in seg, for 2 the whole months I was in there. I've never heard audible voices so I wasn't going to lie about it, how could I. The only voices I've heard are ones in adjacent rooms or outside when I've been smoking crack. 

Thoughts crossed my mind to be deceptive more than a cell and a blanket, they did - I'm not going to deny that, either. But I didn't do anything else.  

After some time, it felt like I was in a different cell. I knew I was in the same cell but it felt like a different one. I started forgetting what the arrangement of the hallway was and my memory of one moment was three officers talking to me about my medication and it being a kind of theater arrangement in the hall.

When my psychiatrist came and released the medication I genuinely needed those meds but I didn't want to come out because I'd sworn to myself I wouldn't come out. I came out once but the glee of one of the officers bothered me so much I decided to refuse to come out again. I didn't want to give them the satisfaction. So even though I needed those meds I still refused to come out. 

Eventually I started taking the meds but then one evening they were swapped for a dud, then I thought maybe they'd have been changed to prolonged release, then I thought no surely they wouldn't change them randomly, then one evening a nurse comes and gives me something completely different, metazapine I think. This was just drawing me closer and closer to suicide.

I remember asking a mental health guy if he was working for the police and he said 'no we dont get involved with things like that' I could tell it was a lie but I didn't press him. At this point pretty much anyone I spoke to was obviously working for the police. I didn't even have the energy to make assucations.

At this point I'm on an ACT review and I'm genuinely suicidal but now my meds are being messed with, swapped with other things, and I'm still being treated like a nuisance rather than a potential suicide. The tests continued and now and then I'd tell an officer I know they're working for the police and they'd constantly deny it. And whenever I'd take my meds, an officer would look at me as though they're checking if I take it. I'm thinking "man, I need this." I was really ill in there.

Days, weeks, over a month has gone by and I'm convinced the police are going to come to my cell soon. I'm thinking how is it possible they cant prove I haven't got psychosis yet, surely this is case closed. Every day I'd think they'd come then some other sort of memory test or something would happen, and I'd think I could still fight it. Every day was this confusing battle trying to work out what was going on. 

But every decision I'd make felt like a bad one - everything I did was wrong. Why was I still fighting this thing. I was constantly coming closer to confession but didn't want to confess to people who it felt like didn't care if I was alive or dead. And this had been dragging on for so long and I was so close to suicide, constantly, I was starting to ask myself if maybe that's what they want me to do. Then I'd think no, surely not. But when I was so close to suicide, constantly complaining how close I was to suicide, literally planning your suicide but yet no one seems concerned, yeah - sometimes I wondered if they wanted me to kill myself.

Then one day I'm on my bed and I'm this close to suicide - the closest I'd been - that I ask God for a sign and open my Bible and it's a passage from Mark 16: 17-20

"And these signs will accompany those who believe: In my name they will drive out demons; they will speak in new tongues; 18 they will pick up snakes with their hands; and when they drink deadly poison, it will not hurt them at all; they will place their hands on sick people, and they will get well.”

19 After the Lord Jesus had spoken to them, he was taken up into heaven and he sat at the right hand of God. 20 Then the disciples went out and preached everywhere, and the Lord worked with them and confirmed his word by the signs that accompanied it."

Signs - it was telling me to follow the signs. Then I flick to another random page and tell myself if this is the passage about temptation then this is crazy not only because of the situation I'm in but I'd had the same thing happen years previously.. so I flicked to a random page - bottom left of the page its the passage about temptation. I must have spent 5 minutes getting over this moment when a woman knocks on my door and passes through a Christian magazine, on the back it has the scripture by Ephesians, part of the armour of God scripture, the first scripture I think I ever recited. Then about 5/10 minutes later someone walks by my cell and calls "Jonah I'm going to do this bit down here" so I look up Jonah in the Bible, read it through and there's a part Jonah wishes to die. I'm like 'he's real, Gods real' and I'm convinced he's real. 

Moments later I shout out "God loves you bruv" - I'd just been sent this beautiful message at the right time. I thought maybe this cleaner was going through something hard, pondering God, maybe he needed a message, too. 

Not long later, this huge burly bloke comes in to deliver my food and I convince myself its some test by the police to see if I flinch or something. This sends my head into a bad place, being tested yet again - I hid under my covers suddenly depressed and then it starts raining outside.. I'm asking why God why and my head starts entering a suicidal state again.

Then the next day the Reverend comes and we talk, he says he's just done a service about James and explains his story, then I ask him about Jonah because I read the KJV version, I asked for him to break it down. He then tells me Jonah wishes to die twice - exactly what I'd done the day before.

Writing this now reminds me of exactly why these moments mean so much to me. How is it that something like that, so profound, so incredible can happen, and not just dotted here and there, this one must have all happened in the space of half an hour. The first sign literally said 'these signs will accompany those who believe' and 'and the Lord worked with them and confirmed his word by the signs that accompanied it' and then all these following signs happen at the darkest moment of my life when I'm so close to suicide? Its crazy.

I think it was our next meeting that me and him sung 'Something About The Name Jesus" with us both by the cell door, it was a beautiful moment.

So I carry on my life, still I'm being attacked, going through more hell. I tell myself I'm there because God wants me there - I must be there for a reason. Then one day they open my cell door and this woman is there smirking at me, I knew who she was. She was the woman who disclosed info about me to people on the previous wing. I thought to myself, there's a young child who could be without a dad soon and you're absolutely loving it. My stay at Hewell was bringing evil out of so many people. 

The following days I'm really losing it and I start to make attempts on my life, figuring out how to do it. I cant believe after those signs, all those signs, I was still trying to end it. But I was. Life was too much. First I tried to tie up my blanket and choke myself, couldn't do it. Then I'm trying to work out a way of how to tie a bag over my head and gag myself and tie my hands behind myself with a ripped towel so I cant get out, couldn't do that either. Days are passing and I'm trying most evenings when the lights are out. Then I start to tie up bits of plastic and shove them down my throat with a pencil to choke myself, on one attempt I must have got 4 or 5 pieces down there but they get caught and I'm choking and spluttering laying down thinking "so this is what its like to die" but my gag reflex managed to bring it all back up. I sat and cried for a while, trying to kill yourself takes it out of you, its exhausting. I think I tried the same thing after, if not then the next day, cant remember.

I remember wanting my Mum and my daughter so much, I would lay on my bed and imagine them coming into the cell and hugging me. At this point I'm thinking I'm never gonna get to hug them ever again. I never felt so alone.

I do understand why my treatment was so brutal. They hated me because of whatever the police had told them - I dont know what they said but whatever it was it was enough for them to not care if I died in that cell or not, even if it was the result of their treatment. I'm just really surprised it was allowed to continue because I was trying to constantly kill myself yet I was continued to be poked. I'd say I forgive them but the truth is I dont think anyone cares if I forgive them, I just have to do it for my heart.

Let me make this perfectly clear - yes, I was acting up at times. Yes, I was fighting this thing. Yes, I refused to come out of my cell because I was trying to make myself look like I had psychosis as much as I could. But at the same time I was genuinely experiencing delusions at times and was genuinely suicidal at times and was genuinely trying to kill myself at times. I was even visited by a woman from the Oak Center and I probably should have been in there but I got denied access to it. I think I'd tried to kill myself the evening before or the evening after - I needed help.

Let me make it clear that the vision wasn't a delusion - it was a premonition, I remember that happening before Moena came in the cell that exact same day. Yes, I hate talking about it because people will think I'm lying but I have to because it happened. 

At some point towards the end of my stay I told the Reverend I wanted to make a confession, I'd had enough. Then the next week when chaplaincy knocked the door, he was standing further back like he didn't want to talk and said "I'll talk to you next week" I determined he must have spoken to the police and that they'd told him not to talk to me, I dont think I spoke to him again until I saw him at the gates a couple weeks later. 

The last couple weeks in there were constant memory tests, by now I'd realised that a mic had been planted in the cell door weeks before and I was constantly being tested. One evening an officer (McBride?) asks me a bunch of questions that are clearly scripted and when I sit down crying, I can see her looking through the window. She enjoyed my pain so much.

After one scripted convo I heard her whistling as she walked off, that's how much people cared about whether I died or not.

I know why my treatment was so brutal - a paedophile is the worst type of human being, and God knows what they were told exactly - none of it would have been good. There is a reason people treated me so brutally, they felt like I was vermin, a type of human that needs to be erradicated from the world. The world would be better off without me, so it doesn't matter if I die. I understand why they would feel that way.

In my mind at the time, I was thinking - they don't know me. They didn't know my story, they didn't know my journey. They didn't know the processes, the rationalisations, the justifications. They didn't know what I know - I'm not a risk to children. I don't abuse children. They didn't know I suppress it until I smoke crack and then stupid things happen on the computer. They didn't know I'd been trying to fix myself for years and years. They didn't know all of this. 

And for many, that still wont matter. In fact, for most - it still wont matter. How could people ever even start to understand why I'd say the things I said? Even I don't understand. If people hate me, I understand. If they want me dead, I understand. But I swear to God, in my heart, I'm a good man. A good man that tries his hardest to be a better man. A man who wants this thing inside me to be gone - I don't want it in me - I want it dead. Look at what it's done to my family, to me, to everyone involved. Of course I want it dead. I just wish someone had the power to kill it.  

I was being told I was getting released but I didn't believe it, I thought they'd do a gate arrest. At this time I didn't realise the rules had been changed and they need to give you 48 hours notice. So I'm convinced I'm not leaving, why would they let me go?

The last day they'd got two officers to be in the cells adjacent to me banging on the doors to increase my anxiety to get me to leave, they didn't want me staying. I refused to leave for a day and they called mental health but I refused to talk, my head was telling me 'be quiet' - but the officer I'd got along with who I trusted, I cant remember his name - he offered to walk me to reception and I went.

Release

After I'm released I stand at the gate for a while expecting police to jump me, I'm looking around and everyones a potential officer, then a Christian lady comes out with Rev Pryce and they convince me to walk with them, telling me I'll be ok and walk me to the leaving center up the road. They suggest to me I need to have something to drink and I have a glass of water. Then I call a taxi and wait for my ride.

As soon as I get into the town I get alcohol, looking back now I think the suggestion to drink might have triggered some pre-programmed drinking hypnosis because from that day forth I couldn't go five minutes without alcohol, it was like I physically had to have it, more so than ever before.

Everywhere I'm going people are treating me suspiciously as though they're working for the police and eventually I book into a hotel. Then I go to the pub and I speak to two lads, it wouldn't be until later I'd work out they were working with the police, too.

Then the people at the hotel are behaving funny with me and they tell me there's no free rooms the following day even though the car park is empty. I end up going and sitting in a graveyard for a bit and after a while I just dash my bags and walk and get in a taxi.

Then I'm going town to town, I cant remember what route, everyones looking at me strangely like I'm in the news. After some time I become convinced I'm on social media.

Eventually I sit down at a pub and speak to this guy and we're talking about drugs, I explain to him the effect drugs have on me, and then we get onto cocaine and he says he can get some so I give him some money and he orders it. 

I remember the look he gave me when I told him about the time I thought I was on the Truman Show, at the time I thought he just thinks I'm crazy but looking back now I realise it's because he was part of this whole thing, it was like I was on the Truman Show, everyone knowing who I was but acting like they're just normal civilians, and he's in on it. 

Within moments the cocaine turns up, must have taken a matter of minutes, 2-3 max it must have been, I'm thinking thats the quickest drug delivery I've ever experienced. 

As soon as I took the cocaine my head couldn't handle it, it was strong and was taking my head to dark places straight away. I ended up in an estate asking a guy to call a taxi, thinking the police were coming. The taxi takes ages and I knock on the guys door and realise he's spoken to the police so now I'm expecting a police car to come round the corner any time soon. 

Eventually a taxi comes and I go to a town, I cant remember where. I spoke to another guy who starts acting sketchy and so I eventually leave him and start walking, no idea where I'm even going. 

The internal dialogue is on me and before I know it I'm in a store buying magazines, 2 womens, 2 childrens, I then leave and hear a police siren, so I run. Then I hear an alarm and I have another crack-induced psychotic episode, running through fields from the police. 

I soon end up in a field convinced I'm surrounded by police and I'm crawling around the ground. There were things moving in the grass I thought were robots controlled by the police to get me spring up. Then I'm going around the field trying to get them to come out, convinced they're hiding in the bushes because they think I've got a firearm. So I throw the magazines and other stuff I've got in a bag at different parts of the field trying to get them to reveal themselves.

I spent hours running through fields and bushes, convinced all the cars passing are police, more are coming and they're circling me. For some time I lay on the ground pretending my phone is a firearm, tryin to hold them off. I was running and running for so long  I got a stitch, then I see a bunch of cows - thinking they're police, too. Then I find myself in a stand-off with the police for about an hour, shouting at them about everything, how I'm sorry, how I know they hate me, trying to explain myself. Then I realise - there's no one there.

After some more running I eventually find myself in a horse field, drinking water from the horse trough because I was that thirsty from running for hours. After some time I find a bush and try to sleep it. I even become convinced there's a van parked in the drive and that its police, or someone calling in to the police. As the light of the morning comes in, I realise there's been no one there, either.

The next morning I was really wound up - the police had literally induced an episode and I could have got seriously hurt. Then the next thing I know is everyone's looking at me strange and I'm realising I must be all over the social media in this town now, too.

I remember this woman passed in a car and she stopped to ask how I was because I was covered in cuts, "are you ok?" She asked. I needed that, it was the first time someone had asked if I was ok in a long time, and meant it. God bless that woman.

I'm then going from town to town again, and everyone's looking at me weird. I'm all over social media, and I know it. 

Everyone's dodgy with me; bus drivers, taxi drivers, everyone. Then I go in a doctors and at first they're cool, next minute they all go cold on me - someones seen me on the social media and pointed it out.

The whole world hates me. I'd never felt so lost.

I cant remember my exact movements after this but after realising I'm not safe anywhere I eventually I ended up at a train station, trying to get to Birmingham. I had to get away from these towns.

The trains were delayed by hours so I jumped in a taxi and asked to go to Birmingham. Just as we were entering Birmingham I had a change of heart, I wanted to see my family before the police arrived. On the journey to Banbury the driver gets a call and he pulls over to the left lane and 3 unmarked silver cars with blacked out windows drove by. I knew these were the police and thought they'd be going to get my parents for questioning before I got home.

Home

When we got to the house, I gave the driver a fiver to stay outside the house while I knocked to see if they were in but they weren't and I couldn't get in the house, I came back and was confused, convinced they'd be in. The driver gave me the fiver back and said don't worry about it. I think he worked out something was going on to do with me and 

I eventually managed to climb over the side of the house putting my jacket down on the glass over the fence and tried to get in through the back. All the lights were out and I could see tissue on the table. I assumed the police had come and spoke to my parents and the tissue was there because my mum had needed it, upset at recieving the information. I now thought my parents were being interviewed somewhere.

The next thing I knew, there was a helicopter circling above, and I could tell there were police by the hedge and back door. I then heard the front door go and the garage door go, so I assumed if the house hadn't been rigged, it definitely had been now. That night I set up the garage ready for sleeping in.

Later I climbed back over the fence and spoke to a polish guy outside the house and asked him if he was up for food so we ordered pizza and waited in my garden for it to arrive. After some food and beers, he left and I got ready to sleep in the garage.

By now it seemed clear to me how important this psychosis diagnosis was so I started to make an attempt - poor attempt - at playing it up. My friends girlfriend had bipolar so I knew what an episode looked like and I'd had severe crack psychosis episodes so I knew what they looked like - I don't know what this was I was doing. Just a sad little man playing his last card. Pathetic really. But I was willing do anything. Years I'd been fighting this thing, I wasn't giving up now.

Regrets kept playing in my head and this thing I do, of imagining peoples conversations - negative ones about me, or different psychologists and analysts, documentary people, things like this, talking about my case on TV etc constantly running through my head. The worse my mental health got, the worse the internal dialogue got and because I was in such a state it was doing my head in. 

I still couldn't stop drinking, I was drinking 24/7. I think 2 or 3 days in I went to Allsports to get some new clothes because I was convinced the trainers had a tracking device in them and the clothes I had on were getting scruffy, I wondered if these were tracked too. Then I bought a phone so I could watch the England womens game the following day.

On the way I bumped into an old school friend who was clearly collaborating with the police, memory tests and such. Then when he left, he said 'God bless'. I'm sure he did this under instruction by the police. 

I also bumped into an old friend who I used to be really close with and it was like we were a million miles apart, we spoke briefly but I could see in his eyes he was thinking 'what the fuck happened to you man?'.

After sleeping in the garage for a few days I went round the corner to a friend of my Dads and asked if she knew where they were and she told me they'd gone away for a few days, so she offered to call. Eventually he gets back to her and says they'll be back in a day and puts me up in a hotel for the night. The police then spoke to her and she stops talking to me, one day calling up and giving a fake name. 

The next day I go back to the house and I'm pretending like everything's ok, when it really wasn't. And all of these memory tests in seg are making me act like my memory's shot. It's really hard acting like you can't remember things, I didn't realise how much a man actually has to use his memory. Its basically all the time, was doing my head in trying to keep it up. These were the lengths I was having to go to trying to continue the lie.

I was drinking every minute of every day and taking a tonne of painkillers whilst gradually building up a supply of sleeping pills and paracetemol with suicide constantly on my mind. I'm thinking about where I'm gonna go and do it, Spiceball park on the edge of the town seems the best place so I get a torch and keep it all to one side. But I'd left my trainers in the hall and I know the police are coming in the house in evenings so I now convince myself my new trainers have a tracking device on them. I checked an old pair of my dads to see if they fit and they do, so the plan is to put on these trainers, go to Spiceball with a torch, and find somewhere to die.

Every morning I wake up I'm thinking of killing myself but I cant do it sober, I need some dutch courage, so every day I'm going to the garage to get some alcohol. But after I've had enough alcohol and painkillers, I'm not getting the courage to kill myself, I'm getting the courage to stay alive. This seemed to be happening almost every day. Alcohol was keeping me from doing myself in. 

At this point I'm constantly getting taunted by the police on Reddit about my appearance and life, I knew they were all officers pushing me to see what I would do. I was shouting at a brick wall every day, cant remember what I said. I was angry.

I cant remember how far in it was that I start noticing lights flashing and I'm so ill at this point I thought I was genuinely seeing things, as the days went by I realised I'm not seeing things, they're being flashed from some sort of device planted in the rooms.

Day by day my mental health is deteriorating and I'm getting really ill, shouting at the police to stop. This crippling anxiety combined with the psychological attacks was literally torture, and I'm trying to numb it with alcohol and painkillers but nothings working, Pregabs, Codeine, Naproxen. I'm taking strips of the stuff and drinking bottles a day and nothing is getting rid of this unexplainable feeling of pain running through my body. I had no idea what was happening to me, every day I was saying "how am I still alive?" I have no idea and I still dont. 

I shoplifted on 3 occasions during this time because I felt like I had to drink, the urge was too much. I believe it was the hypnosis that gave me this uncontrollable urge, if not then I take full responsibility.

I'm going onto Reddit daily and the conspiracy subbreddit /exposingcabalrituals I'm modding is gaining more and more traction every day, I'm convinced it's the police doing it to keep me on there - and weird comments are popping up related to me, more and more of them. I email to myself "you're basically running Reddit at this point" or something - I should have just stopped using it but I was pissed every minute of the day trying to avoid suicide, I needed to do something to keep me going and that was it. 

After a while I arranged to see my youngests mum because I needed to speak to her, this situation is messing with my head and I need to get things off my chest. I go round there to see her and the family, we have a few drinks and when everyones asleep, I tell the whole story to my youngests Mum - doesn't go down well. I then get some message on Reddit from my co-mod who says some babble about not being the actual guy he mods with, trying to get some reaction - so I put two and two together and decide he must be an officer.

Then I remember her brother coming round and I wondered if he was collaborating with the police, too. I was even questioning whether my daughters uncle was in on this thing. By now I cant trust anyone.

It was the first or second time my daughter had seen me I think and she sees me throwing up in the toilet for ages, I couldn't stop, I was so ill. The next morning she gave me the biggest hug, so happy that Daddys home. It's killing me not knowing how long I'm gonna be around for until I'm gone again, maybe prison, maybe the ground.

Then I realise the other Reddit account thats been talking to me is RockyApollo - I concluded this was an officer, too. Because they know I'm into boxing and Rocky, psychologically I'm drawn to it and are more likely to trust it. They'd done the same with Logosterix - similar to an old alias I'd used, Indigo Lynx. 

I was becoming more and more suspicious of everyone on Reddit and kept checking their accounts to work out who's officers. I had to just assume they all were and was feeling less and less safe on Reddit.

At some point I started posting videos about MK Ultra, I don't know why I randomly started posting MK Ultra videos, I believe it was something to do with the police and the hypnotism. There was one comment on Reddit about cheese being a 'mind control device' - this was the police, too. 

Next thing I know my youngests mum is cutting me off so I'm sure the phone mic was tapped, hearing the whole convo and now they've got in touch with her and told her she cant speak to me. I spend a few days trying to get in touch but no luck. I switched on her about something but I cant remember what. Eventually I speak to her and I'm telling her I need to see her or I'm gonna kill myself and I can hear her weeping, saying she cant see me. I really needed her.

I'm still drinking myself to death and I'm even drinking in front of my daughter, one thing I swore I'd never do. She's 10 years old and I've spent her whole life making sure she doesn't see me drink and she's seeing me drink. But I literally couldn't stop, at the time I didn't know why but now I do.

And people keep on checking if I respond to my name, directed by the police.. a line was crossed when I called my youngests Mum and she got my daughter to ask me "is your name Luke, Luke?" I can just about deal with the whole world against me but using my daughter, that was too much. 

I'm constantly hearing noises and sounds and realise its the police, realising the police are doing this is raising my anxiety more now I know the house is totally rigged. I then become convinced the VW van outside is police. One night I catch a bloke looking at me sketchy while he puts away his phone and then when I comment 'VW van' in a Reddit comment, the van dissappears. Then I walk round the block and its in a car park out of the way, I determined the police put it there to make sure I dont mess with it.

As I'm looking through Reddit I'm reading posts that refer to the mental health issues I've experienced that are now being amplified, especially about internal dialogue, looking back now I realise this was the police, too. It was like the internal dialogue, OCD, anxiety, depression was all amplified so high it that it couldn't go any higher. There were times I had little-to-no control over my feelings, mood and behaviour. It was a constant hell I just wanted to escape.

Then at some point I ask to speak to my Mum to very carefully word an explanation of whats going on, and as we walk outside, the VW van parks up and they're playing drum and bass, so I think to myself, whats going on, am I wrong about the van? We walk round the block and I tell her everything. I even wore my slippers because I thought my trainers might have a mic in them, but then I start getting paranoid her jackets been bugged.

I concluded the next day the police tried to make it look like they're not a police van by parking up playing drum and bass, to make sure I'd talk to my Mum. Then that evening I think it was that I see them in the front coming out with what looks like a chinese so I post a Reddit comment about chinese food so they know that I know its a police van. I also thought they were in flat 2 nextdoor but a few nights later I'd knock the door about some noise and its some polish guys. I knew they were around here somewhere, just didn't know where. 

Then I get a comment about 'change today' - so immediately decided my Mums jacket was bugged. I think this was the 1st October, my daughters Birthday, I needed a drink but was out of money so I went and robbed a bottle, and when I get home and put on the TV there's some video posted about faking psychosis by Kendall Rae - the girl who does the true crime documentaries - and then a video of Derren Brown and he's talking about all this stuff that synchronises with my life. That's when I realised he was involved. He said 'teachers' but said it 'teach us' - a prompt to get me talking. I lose it and start shouting at the walls again. The following day would be the start of a 7-day Ayahuasca hypnotism process induced by Derrens hypnotherapy.

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I have tried my best to write the following events in chronological order but I'm aware a lot of it will be all over the place. The police have the footage and what I said at the specific times, any thoughts I've had that they want to check they're free to do so through the hypnotheraphy I'm currently undergoing. 

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This is what I remember of the 7-day Ayahuasca hypnosis.

Day 1 

I think it was day 1 I read something on Reddit about 'I want to leave the city because of something someone said to me' - I thought it was the police trying to get me to leave so they could say I was trying to do a runner so I decide no, I'm gonna stay. By now I'd convinced myself the VW van in the street was police and I know there in some local property so I knock on a couple doors but no ones claiming it. There was one house with all the lights off and someone in the front room with just a phone, I thought maybe that's them but couldn't be sure. So I then go back to the house, get a mallet and smash it up and then go to the garage to get a drink. 

After a couple glasses, I listened to 'Quiet' two or three times, and suddenly started uncontrollably crying, at the time, I felt like it was all of my pain and trauma was being removed. All the tension in my body was lost and I suddenly felt ok. 

Later upon reflecting I'd realise it was the release of the build-up of hypnotic energy accumulated over the month.

I remember going downstairs and it was like everything that had built over the last month was suddenly released. But it wasn't long before it steadily started building again.

The next couple days are really blurry, I cant remember much but I was still constantly trying to fight the truth, my ego was fighting but my soul was gradually telling me to just let it all go. Whenever some truth would come out, I'd get emotional - it was like after lying for so long, when I was finally letting truth out, it was being released from me and I was able to have some rest from it all.

Then I'd start fighting it again, it was like God and the devil, love and fear, were both playing ping pong in my mind - 'tell the truth, don't tell the truth, tell the truth, dont tell the truth' - weighing up all the rationalisations and justifications constantly, the process itself was so intense that I was getting pushed and pushed towards truth because it was like I couldn't let this game of ping pong continue in my mind any longer.

Day 2

I started becoming more aware of my dreams and realised how much sleep talking I was doing, at first I thought it was because of the hypnosis combined with all the painkillers, later I'd realise it was the hypnotherapy.

It didn't take long to realise the wine had been turned into Ayahuasca - I had a memory of my friend telling me about the method years ago during a car drive at first, later on I would determine that was programmed into me via hypnotherapy and the memory had never actually happened.

Whenever I'd remember part of a dream, or work something out about the hypnosis, I'd write it down. There was a part of me that was keeping it as a back up plan, the other part just wanted to show that I'd worked some of it out yet I was still going to give myself up. It was an ego thing 'look, I knew what you were doing' - trying to act like I was smart. 

I was dreaming about things I wouldn't normally dream but at first I assumed it was because so much focus was being put on my healing. At this point I didn't know things were being planted in my head. At some point I even relieved myself because I was wondering why there was so much sex-related stuff happening in my dreams. I was concerned about what I'd say if my sex drive was so high.

Day 3

But then on day 3, I think it was, I was going through this internal conflict of ego vs spirit and suddenly had the epiphany "I need to sacrifice myself like Jesus did so that people can be forgiven" moments later, it would be followed by pulling 'PRAY' out of the Scrabble bag - and so I felt like it was a divine message from God. I was 100% convinced. I'd pulled the letters out and put them in the rack all in order - didn't even need to rearrange them in the rack.

Of course people will put this down to coincidence but from everything I'd been through to suddenly having this epiphany - the most powerful moment of my entire life - and the next minute I'm pulling out PRAY out of the scrabble bag completely at random. It all just seemed so perfect. It was confirmation for me that all of this had happened for a reason.

I cant remember what happened in the evening, I'm sure I was convinced of Gods existance for the rest of the day. The epiphany and the moment with the Scrabble bag had done it for me.

From day 3 onwards I felt like what I was saying was important, like it would be watched by the public. I dont know if this was pre-programmed by some Truman show hypnosis but thats what it felt like early on. That I was being watched by the public. And Derren was like Christof.

Day 4

I think it was day 4 that I realised how healthy my dreams were becoming, it was like my belief that I cant get a good woman had left me and I was speaking to women and I didn't feel scared about sex. This was when I realised - maybe this process isn't just suppose to get the truth out, maybe it's supposed to heal me, too. 

Then in the evening I go in to the front room and its the very last second of Terminator 2. I conclude it means the police are coming - I think Derrens planted it - I now go into another psychological battle between confession/ fight/ suicide. I'm getting really worried about the prospect of this knock happening in the next 24 hours.

I go upstairs and I'm pacing around thinking about what to do, and I see my daughters picture on the wall she drew years ago about the soldiers in World War 2:

'The pot of poppies are orange like the sun set when it is nice outside, they are to remember the men that died, even though they passed away, we still remember them right in our hearts'

It was like a sign from my daughters heart - 'its ok Daddy, I'll still love you'

So now I'm thinking about suicide and I go downstairs and my Mums reading a story about the soldier Jaysley Louise-Beck,
an artillery gunner who had taken her own life because of innapropriate sexual advances and assaults from males. I decide this is another sign - I need to take my own life to replace myself for her.

I then realise Sarah Connor is also a soldier, it's like everything is telling me to kill myself.

I got the bag of pills I'd been accumulating, had a bunch of them ready now and xo I put on my Dads shoes and put my daughters note in my jacket, and sat in the front room getting ready to muster up the courage to go out the door and find somewhere to die. 

The whole thought process is on the footage, I cant remember exactly the processes I went through, but eventually I realise I created this hell, I cant just create it and leave it for my family to endure, I have to be a man and go through it with them.

It killed me I said I was going to replace myself for Jaysley and didn't do it, made me look like an even bigger piece of shit than I already looked - after some thinking I decided in the end that a confession is better. Men are being brainwashed by pornography and treating women like objects, becoming men they weren't born to be - if my confession can help to open the conversation and get people talking seriously about the effects pornography is having on society, then surely that's a good thing - better than me killing myself like a coward and leaving the mess to everyone else. 

The build up and release of energy was starting to confuse me around this time because when it was built up I'd be stressed around my Mum but when it was released I'd be really good with her and it was messed up because I knew what was about to happen yet I was being happy, it didn't make sense, but then I'd rather her see me happy before I leave but I dont want her to think "why was he happy when he knew what was going on" its all going to mess with her head so bad and it kills me. Same with my daughter and my Dad, its such a weird fucked up situation.

Day 5 & 6

Day 5 & 6 I was talking about everything; God, love, life - I cant remember what I said, I just know what I was saying felt like I was getting deep and I think I was, from what I can remember of it. 

At some point during this time I realised my Birthday, October 8th, was going to be the last day and then I would be healed, the chains would be broken and I could start my new life. I don't think I'd really considered the true significance of exactly where I was at. It would take a few days to 'come down' and return to some form of reality. 

Day 7 - Sunday October 8th

This would be the last day that I would give one last final talk at the end of my healing which I did in the late evening. 

11:45pm
Moments after doing that I went downstairs and realised it was quarter to 12, because I was so convinced by the signs, I I wondered - maybe I should ask God for some final message. But I was torn because I thought if it does appear, then it would prove Christianity and I didn't want to start some sort of religious war. On the other hand it could prove God and help peoples faith, or give them faith. And everything up until this point all seemed to fit, nothing had gone wrong - I was so convinced God was real that I didn't think he'd let me down - of course the clock struck 12 and the whole thing was a car crash. I told myself God didn't do it because he didn't want to start a war. "This is where everything merges." I said.

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Monday October 9

The following day I obsessed about how I'd asked for a message because it made a completely mess of the whole thing. I'd told myself I wouldn't smoke and wouldn't drink because I felt like that was all part of the healing - to break all the chains. But this obsession of me ruining everything led me to keep smoking and I went and bought a bottle - luckily I sat with it and prayed and managed to get rid of the bottle and went for a walk. But I was still smoking, this bothered me but I planned to drop it soon.

I now felt like I was some messenger of God, not the Messiah or anything like that but just some sort of messenger. Chosen. I believed that my story had happened for some divine reason and I was the main part. I now felt like I had to be Christ-like from now on - set an example to the world of a good man, a changed man. And all these different ideas about what I had to now do were entering my mind. Go to London and preach, sell all my stuff and give it to charity, things like this. 

I remember saying I had 'a lot of little things to do and one big thing' - I had some analogies I wanted to share, but also the confession. I didn't know whethere to do the analogies first and then the confession or vice versa. If I did the analogies, it would be like I was putting off the confession and wasting everyones time, but if I did the confession straight away, maybe the police would come through the door and I wouldn't get a chance to do the analogies and just get thrown straight in the nick. Another game of ping pong.

I remember that evening going to search 'Bethel Music' (a gospel channel) and it came up with Bethel Street randomly (the street Norwich Constabulary is on), I didn't know why, I at first I thought maybe it was the police telling me to go, or was it God telling me to go? I didn't know - but I didn't plan on going, I hadn't even confessed yet.

Tuesday October 10

I remember the next day I start hearing sounds again when I'm with my daughter and I'm thinking "why am I being attacked again? Why the constant sounds testing me?" I thought it must be because they think I'm going to roll up to Bethel Street, and put it down to that - I told them about this. But then the tests and attacks continued through the week. It was like I couldn't do anything right.

When I was deep in the hypnosis and thought the whole thing was some act of God, I had written down the events that had happened to me over the years. Whenever my anxiety crept up, all I'd have to do was look at these events on the paper and immediately my anxiety would dicipate. It all made sense now. 

I then started getting confused because I thought I was doing what was expected of me but I was still being attacked - things going missing, lights and sounds being flashed, etc. I was going very quickly from believing Derren Brown and the police were on my side to realising they really weren't. 

One minute I'd be dead-set on completely handing myself over to God and then I'd be attacked. Why was I still being attacked? It didn't make sense and made me want to fight. I was torn again between two places - fight or let go. "They're not on your side, Luke" I'm telling myself.  

Then I started to consider the places my head was going during last days of the healing process and was starting to realise I'd been in delusional states during parts of it. For example I imagined in the court room, some mathmetician or something coming in and telling the court the odds were "astronomical" and everyone believing that this was some divine act and that I was sent from God. I imagined Derren Brown coming to the front door with open arms, not only had this proven God but a miracle had occured, too. And he was the deliverer of that miracle - fixing me. We would become friends who had delivered a beautiful message to the world, and merged science and God. I also imagined an officer in the interview room saying something along the lines of "well, there will have to be trial and everything but because of the circumstances, it wont be that bad" - I thought maybe I wouldn't get some huge sentence, maybe things wouldn't be that bad. 

The more I thought about it, the more I wondered - does anyone really care about God and signs or are they just using my beliefs against me, convincing me this is all divine? - I'm actually going to get in the interview room and they're just going to throw the book at me and once I'm knocked out of hypnosis, I'll lose my faith and be chucked in a cell, becoming more confused and suicidal than I ever was. 

Day 10

My anxiety was all over the place, one minute its ok and suddenly my anxiety would be cranked up again and I'd start questioning everything. But I started to wonder - is my anxiety being lowered because Gods really helping me or just because that's what my brain's been hijacked to do. I was now becoming convinced everything had been orchestrated not to help or heal me but just to get me to talk.

For some time I'd feel like it was all divine but then I'd start reading into it and think I'm just being done over, then I'd have to consider all my signs from the past and I'm convinced its divine again, then I'd remind myself I'm hypnotised - they're just doing this to trick you, I'm thinking. They don't care about your signs or your story, they just wanna throw you in the can. Telling myself I'm reading too much into it.

But I knew I'd had the signs, and now I'm at this pivotal moment in my life and they all seem to be making sense - Gods been with me this whole time, surely. It was turning into another game of ping pong - 'Gods real, no He's not, yes He is, no He's not' 

Day 11

I became really confused about my anxiety. My anxiety levels were constantly raising and only seemed to drop when I believed I was some sort of messenger or when God was answering my prayers. One evening my anxiety levels were raised but when I prayed, it immediately started raining outside and suddenly my anxiety dropped, so I'm then putting it down to God. I went outside and circled in it as I looked up with my arms raised. I'd seen the Truman show again, the night previous I think, so it felt like some sort of symbolic moment

Then one evening, it was the early hours of the morning and I had a bottle of wine on the side. Everything was telling me not to drink it - I really didn't want this wine but the processes my head was constantly going through of confusion and anxiety were leading me to drink - I couldn't understand what was going on. I sat with it for ages because I didn't want it but then things started happening that seemed to be the police trying to lower my anxiety - this confused me further. Were they on my side or weren't they? 

It was clear what they wanted - me to not drink. I'd decided they weren't on my side and so I did the opposite of what they wanted - I drank. 

This induced a vivid dream with a woman who was trying to take me into a spare room at a party. We did go into the spare room and started to have sex but then stopped. I think this was when I woke up.

I then realised this had been part of the hypnosis - and that maybe the intention of the hypnosis was actually to heal me, I'd just been getting paranoid - Derren was on my side. And so I made my apologies and explained why I'd drank. It really bothered me that I'd ruined the process but there was nothing I could do to revert it. It would have been the perfect ending - I undergo the hypnosis, Derrens performed a miracle, I'm fixed and the world gets to see what's truly possible. Anyone can be cured.

And trust me, there's nothing I wanted more for that to have all worked out like it was supposed to work out. It was yet again another huge error on my part, first I'd asked God for a message that went completely wrong at a crucial time and now I'm ruining a huge hypnosis plan which was planned with the intention of healing me. I acted like I handled it pretty well but inside I was thinking how am I ever gonna get over this. Looking back now, after everything that's happened since, I can get over it - God knows what would have happened next. 

One thing that bothered me was that these mistakes and errors were happening as a result of my confusion and I knew the result of the confusion was how much my anxiety and thoughts were being manipulated so I didn't think I was fully to blame, the reason I had that drink was because I was so confused by what was going on. If I hadn't been constantly attacked for the past few days, I wouldn't have been so confused about why the police were dropping my anxiety at that moment.

Then I'd sit there and think about everything that had happened, the last few months had been complete and utter hell, I'd even tried to kill myself a number of times, yet I was now trying to overlook my treatment and humble myself, be a better man, convince myself this is all for the greater good. I could literally be dead yet I'm forgiving them for what's happened to me, then I'm being attacked, then I'm blaming myself for something that I didn't feel completely responsible for, then I'm being attacked again.. and all this whilst dealing with crippling anxiety from the hypnosis which was constantly coming and going - and I don't even know if it's me relieving it or God or the hypnosis... I'd talked about how I'd been going through torture in the past, now I was literally being tortured. 

Sometimes when I'd pray away the anxiety and I'd think God was doing it, I'd imagine Derren in the office being like "I don't know how he's doing it" but of course it wasn't God at all, it was Derren.

I would consider this sometimes but then I'd think no, he wouldn't do that. But by now I didn't know what to think. Trying to work out exactly what was going on in my head and outside my head and why it was going on was this constant puzzle I was trying to work out.  

Then I imagined people saying things like "if God existed, surely he'd be able to pray the hypnosis away?" And all the conversations about theism that would follow from all these events - was this going to all prove God or disprove God? Considering all of the possibile outcomes and conversations was getting too much, and the longer things went on, the more I was starting to believe I was just being manipulated and then in turn started questioning my faith all over again. Was it my faith that had been rebuilding over this past year or was it just a hypnosis-induced faith designed to lead me to this moment? 

Day 12 

But then I wondered if I'd been programmed to read deeper into the signs, but that even Derren himself was finding faith along the way from seeing my signs - they hadn't anticipated how crazy the signs would be. Maybe even officers in Scotland Yard were finding faith in God, too. Maybe they were getting signs in the office or getting their own signs at home. But the lights and sounds were continuing, like I was an enemy, not some messenger of God - it made no sense. 

Day 13 

I then thought maybe there were two sides in the office, Derren vs the police: Derren was telling them to leave me alone - telling them it was unnecessary that they were still testing me with lights and sounds, taking things out of rooms, etc - still attacking me. I didn't need to be tested further - I was handing myself over. But then something else would happen and I'd start thinking about fighting. This constant psychological torture was completely wearing me down.

On October 13th I was going to confess but then I spoke to my Mum and she said "we saw Anjelas earlier, he's hardly saying a word" - Anjelas is a French word for angel, so I thought this was a sign to keep quiet, at least for now, then when I saw it was Friday 13th, I thought "ok, not today."

Saturday October 14th

The next day I'm watching the walk ins for the Tommy Fury fight and 'Wonderwall' starts playing, I decide this must be from Derren and I start to tear up - he's telling me its time to confess - and that maybe my confession will 'save' him. I put it off for a while but eventually it gets to 3:33 and I realise its time, so I do my spoken confession. 

But then I haven't even finished it and they start doing sounds again, I'm thinking "still?" I just let it go and continued the confession but a part of me was wondering how this is still happening. I'm confessing and still being attacked. 

After talking for what seems like hours, I decide to go to bed and finish the rest the next day. 

Sunday October 15th

The next morning I'm woken by a huge alarm being played in my room by the police. Honestly, it wound me up, I've just  given this huge confession and I'm being woken up by a huge alarm that sounds like an air raid drill. At first I thought it was to get me up to finish the confession, looking back now I realise it was to see if it would trigger an episode.

Anyway I decided to let it go and then spend some time with my Mum and then continue the confession later upstairs, finishing it that evening.

Monday October 16th

I think it was this Monday I then started writing my written confession and for the next few days would be going back and adding bits when I could. 

Monday October 23rd ish

I think this was when I started questioning the whole thing again. I remembered reading something on Reddit about not being Christ but being Christ-like and having a 'Messiah complex'. I knew they had been planting programming in my mind through Reddit and other sites so maybe they'd done this, too - hypnotised me into having a form of Messiah complex. It would make sense - program me to read into all the signs deeper, send me some of their own signs, leave the rest up to God, and eventually I'd believe I was some God-like figure that would disclose everything. I felt tricked.

It would have been about this time I questioned the song from Derren, too. 'Wonderwall' - I was pretty sure Derren wasn't going to convert, and felt like it was more of a manipulation than genuinely thinking my confession could actually convert him. Looking back now I'm not sure if he really did send me this, I'm not sure. I don't know if he'd do that, either. That seemed like too deep of a lie - getting a confession by pretending he wants to be 'saved'. 

But then I started to think about all the signs - they'd happened - there was no disputing that. So even if I had been pre-programmed to look deeper into them, that didn't change the fact they'd occured. So I got really confused about whether it was really God or just my mind being hijacked, or just me. 

The visions on the other hand - they couldn't be coincidence. Thats what I kept coming back to when I thought about everything. Those were just too much. 

But I couldn't prove all my signs, or my visions, so to the police, it didn't matter - regardless of what I said or what happened, none of that mattered - they'd convinced me I was a messenger and they'd got their result. 

I remember imagining the future trial with Derren or an officer saying "yeah we just had to convince him he was the Messiah which wasn't hard because he's clearly a narcassist" all these negative comments kept springing up in my mind about the things people would say. 

And I wondered, maybe I am a narcissist? I'd confessed instead of trying to keep fighting for my family. Surely someone would just keep fighting for their family? Not come to the conclusion they're some sort of Messiah and then confess as a result of it? I was looking so deep into everything and it was just making me feel worse by the day. Had I done the right thing?

Tuesday October 24th - Friday October 27th

On the Tuesday I watched Donny Darko and so much of it was synchronising with my life and the situation I was in. I'd seen it before but now it was taking on a whole new light. Talking about love and fear, God, determinism, he's going through hypnotherapy, there's paedophila, mental health delusions, the whole thing was just grabbing me like a huge sign.. there was also a metaphor - in the film Donny floods the school and burns down the paedophiles 'dungeon' - I'd flooded the house with tears and Derren had burnt down the 'dungeon' inside me. Then it comes up on the screen..

October 24th
(six days remain until end of the universe)

and I'm watching it on October 24th. I thought this must be Derren telling me I had until the end of the week to finish the confession. Then I watched the scene directly after the October 24th notice - its a teacher in the school telling Karen (Drew Barrymore) she's failed - she then goes outside and screams and there's a Chinese girl looking at her - I thought, am I being told I've failed and need to finish this written confession before the end of the week?

So I return to the written confession and keep on writing. My plan is to finish the confession and go to Scotland Yard to hand it in at the end of the month.

It must have been later that day or the next that I could imagine peoples responses, who I'd be known as: 'the man that got hypnotised into confession' - I realised what had happened, how I'd been manipulated, and still being manipulated,  but I tried to keep writing, telling myselg its what I need to do.

I think that evening a bag of peas got returned to the freezer by the police and it bothered me, I was starting to see through all this manipulation. I was writing the confession, the bag of peas was just of a bit weird thing, like a strange gift.

I think it was the following day that I saw a clip of Jordan Petersen and a guy called Jim Caviezel talking about the Devil and God, "the devil is always trying to mimic God" Caviezel said, then later on he explains:

"I'd give my life in a heart beat, [] I will tell you this right now, I would absolutely die. If this were to change the world and get rid of trafficing and pornography and all of the eight arms of this octopus that has to be destroyed and the only way you can destroy it is take the head out, I'd give my life for it in a heartbeat."

It was like he was talking to me, telling me what I needed to do. But at this point I hadn't realised he was the actor that played Jesus - I really wish I had. 

Looking back now I can see the crossroads - there was Jesus on hand telling me to write the confession, and on the other hand there was.... 'Frank' 

Over the next couple days it felt like I was being told to leave the house, my Mums saying "you need to get out" (but kindly), my Dads getting wound up with me, and I'm seeing rabbits in the house (Frank)

I didn't know what exactly was going on but I knew everything was telling me to leave and nothing was telling me to stay.

At some point I bought a black spray can. For a moment I had this crazy idea that I was going to go to Trafalgar Square and spray 'THEY MADE ME DO IT' on the floor, like in Donny Darko, and then do a crux-pose. I don't know what my head was doing. Another crazy idea from a desperate man. 

Living in this rigged house was now really taking its tole on me; I'm still hearing sounds, ticking through the walls cranking up my anxiety, things dissappearing. I remember one evening I went to the shower and when I came out, I could see a small shadow move at the end of the hall - I knew it was the police. All of this was starting to get too much. 

At this point everything is telling me to leave. Within 24 hours I'm on my way to London, writing another lie and sleeping rough down Oxford Circus. I knew they'd made me believe I was some sort of Messiah, so I used this as an explanation for the confession. 

On the first day I was just wandering around central London drinking, I didn't have a plan, I was just lost. Didn't want to be at home, didn't really want to be on the streets of London, but I didn't know what to do. 

Early hours of the following day I went to Marylebone and fell asleep on a bench but then I woke up and there's an undercover officer holding a phone, I could tell he was recording my sleep talking. And he had Roadrunner socks on, just to make it clear he was an officer. To put the pressure on me I assume. Let me know they're still onto me. I knew already, of course.

After a couple days of being there I went to my old church in London - Hillsong, it was good to be there but wasn't like I remembered it - the songs were different, all the people were different, still - it was nice to go back.

I made friends with some other homeless people and even though I knew the police were onto me, it was a relief not to be in the house. I felt trapped in that place, at least here I had some sort of freedom - a freedom I was expecting to be my last for a long time. 

Tuesday October 31st (one day until end of the universe)

I knew today was going to be the last day, when I was sleeping a bin man came by and played this weird noise, I thought at the time it was knocking me out of hypnosis but looking back at how my head was on this day, I dont know. It was definitely hypnosis-related.

I noticed these two women in the building by Oxford Circus kept checking for me, then I realise other people just randomly looking. Two officers drove by and one was looking at me, at this point I'm sure they're everywhere.

Later on I was speaking to another guy on the street and then I walked off and noticed this guy looking sketchy, I knew he was a PI, he walked off and I followed him. I had some notes on me with positive messages on them I was giving to strangers - 'stay strong mate' - things like this. Once I caught up to him he looked shaken and I gave him a note. 

Later on one of the guys I'd befriended hasn't been seen for hours and I decide he must have been taken by the police for questioning about me. This sends my head spinning, soon everyone here will hate me, too. Then out of nowhere a guy comes and gives me a fresh packet of cigarettes 'do you want these'. I knew I'd told Ben I needed a smoke, I thought he must have told the police and the police did it as another pressure thing, or maybe because they were worried I'd flip without a fag. I didn't know exactly but I knew he was the police. 

My head started spinning out again and something was telling me to go to Trafalgar Square, so I walk down towards there. On my way I hear this song playing by a band at Picadilly I think it was that reminds me of my eldests Mum, Passenger - 'Let Her Go' I think I'd written about it in a Quora answer so thought Derren may have set it up. At this point I'm thinking this is all going to climax, that the whole day has been set up to direct me to some ultimatum or ending like it does on his shows.

I then sat down outside a museum just around the corner from Trafalgar Square to have a cigarette and this Chinese girl sits next to me for a bit and then I look to her and she looks at me and nods, or smiles, I then remembered the Donny Darko scene when Drew Barrymore leaves the office after getting fired and there's a Chinese girl there looking at her. I thought this might be some sort of cue, then her friend came out of the museum and they meet and she walks off.

I then walked to Trafalgar Square and I'm suspicious everyone is police and I'm walking round giving these notes out and I can see all these people looking at me so I'm trying to work out who officers are. I was convinced I was going to get jumped by police at this point but it never happens. Then I see this boy who looks lost and asks how to get to Tottenham Court Road so I told him I'll walk him up there and we go up towards Tottenham Court Road.

After leaving him I'm thinking, what's gonna happen next, when is this ending going to happen? Are they even coming? I was sketching out, nearly got hit by a bus at the crossroads by the Hillsong church, missed me by inches. Then I continue walking until I get to Oxford Circus. 

I then saw someone with a sign saying 'I really really want to go home' I thought - I wish I could help this guy, because that's what I wanted. Then I thought, is this planted there by Derren? Is this to get me to go home? Or am I supposed to help this guy? I had no money though, there was nothing I could do. I sat down the road for a bit and then I decided to go back but when I went back, he was gone.

Then I go back to Oxford Circus crossroads and there's some civil officers hassling a homeless guy I'd spoken to a couple times and I got involved, telling them to leave him alone. Then an officer comes over and he's getting involved, too and it looks like they're gonna nick him. The guys just sitting down trying to get money for food, so I'm sticking up for him, not being aggressive or anything. Then when I realise he's about to get nicked I told him to walk and the officer started to go to him so I jumped in the way with my arms raised, now I'm getting nicked. And another homeless guy, Ben who's now returned starts getting involved, too. 

Then as I'm being questioned by the side of the street I think to myself, maybe this is it. Maybe when I get to the station this will finally end. Maybe this was all rigged. One of the officers calls in to check my details and says I'm on a recall so I'm going back to prison, no mention of what the recall is for. But I was laid back still, I'm thinking, surely this was meant to happen, this will end now.

When I got to Charing Cross Station I saw one of the officers glance at another officer all suspicious and I'm becoming more convinced this is rigged, they assure me its not and put me in the cell and tell me I'll be going to prison. I'm thinking no way am I going to prison, this is supposed to end now. So I started flipping out about Derren and the police. I fell asleep not much later.

I then get woken up and they tell me I'm going to the hospital because they think I'm ill. I'm thinking yeah, anywhere other than prison, I wanted to get out of there. So I get up and go with them.

When I got to the hospital and I was sat in the waiting room a part of me is expecting Derren to come out, or there's going to be some other sort of rigged plan to direct me to some climax. Another part is thinking if it doesn't end here then where does it end. Soon I'm on a hospital bed and there's officers being randomly changed during shift, I'm thinking this is all something to do with the hypnosis, the new officers are in on it so they're being swapped for these old ones. 

I wasn't there for long until I start to think these officers dont seem to know anything about this at all. One of them especially is just treating me like a nuisance. Eventually I realise they aren't in on it.

After some time I realise the male officer has been informed and I switch on him, calling him names, toxicity and negativity is spilling out of me. At this point I've dealt with a million professionals denying their collaboration with the police and this is the million and first. 

I understand now, it was a necessary evil. All of this was. It had to be done. But at the time, in my situation, position, after everything and a few drinks, I was cussing at this guy.

I explained what was going on with everything and pointed out the DB on the electric plug, this was when I started wondering maybe this is rigged, but the officers weren't interested. At this point they're convinced I'm pulling their leg.

Then I saw what looked like 'FRANK' on the monitor - at closer inspection it said FR/NK, but it still hit me after what had brought me there.. and then I see the Frank poster, but I didn't point them out because they'd lost interest in my story, they'd had enough of hearing about signs. So I just registered them in my mind. 

Eventually the mental health guys came to talk to me and I told them exactly what was going on. I didn't lie, but yeah, I was hoping I'd get sectioned. I didn't want to go back to prison. 

I could hear the officer in the hall say 'yeah he's just trying to avoid prison' - it bothered me he thought I was making all of this up, because I wasn't, it was the truth. But yeah, if I'd have been taken away I would have gone.

I had told the truth at the police station and I told the truth at the hospital, and I would have told the truth at whatever institution, too. I didn't exaggerate, at all. I wasn't trying to pull a fast one. The state I was in, I probably needed sectioning, at least I would have been safe there. 

After some time the mental health team left and I waited to be discharged, to go to Charing Cross Station and then to prison, when they're going through my details at reception they couldn't tell me why I was going back to prison or how long for - I said I want a solicitor and I want to know why I'm going and for how long, but they couldn't answer that - I gave up and after a small argument I raised my arms to get cuffed and taken off by the Serco van.  

Wandsworth

I was then booked into cell 34 on the induction wing, just one number off of 33. I decided this must be because I was just slightly out of alignment with God, I'd nearly made it but hadn't made the final leap. I went to bed that evening and was ok but I think it was the 2nd night when I suddenly felt wired. I thought the meds had been changed to duds or to caffeine pills.

I think the next day I went out to social and had this overwhelming sense of anxiety and paranoia, I think it was then  that I concluded they were caffeine pills and I stopped taking them and kept them to one side. Looking back now I believe a speaker was planted in my cell to put me into hypnosis when I was in the yard during exercise. This then put me back into hypnosis reducing the effect of the pills. 

I could tell some of the officers if not then all were informed of my presence and were told to listen in to my conversations because a lot of the time when I'd speak to someone, they would be nearby and looked like they were paying attention but trying to look like they weren't.

At some point I thought about the signs in the hospital; the FR/NK, Frank poster, and DB on the plug and thought - "that could have been my way out" I could have flipped out about all those signs and maybe I'd have not gone to prison. Then later I thought, maybe that was the Devil - trying to get me to flip out. The truth had brought me to this cell, maybe that truth was God. 

I then got moved from the induction wing to D wing. Immediately officers started constantly asking for my name and cell at complete random times. I thought they'd changed my pills to duds and were doing this to check my memory. At this point I was getting really wound up and needed something to calm me down so I started getting alanzopine and quetiapine from other prisoners. This bothered me because I was using other peoples meds so I would often check they were ok, sometimes I'd go a day or two without anything additional and then my anxiety would raise again, becoming paranoid.

At this point my negativity and fear was spilling out in all sorts of ways, I wasn't well. The cell was boiling, too, which didn't help. After covering the heating pipes I started to feel better in a couple days. I remember hearing 'you took something perfect and painted it red' and realised it was Derren, but it wasn't perfect, it was a mess. The whole thing was messy, there was so much that went wrong in those couple weeks - it didn't look perfect to me. Not long later I realised I was definitely hypnotised and flipped out, being hypnotised for so long and now knowing I had been was starting to break me down. Derren got someone to say 'sorry' by my door and I appreciated the apology. I knew he had meant well, yes he was working for the police but he was trying to heal me, too. I felt like he was on my side again.

I then tried my quetiapine again and thought they'd been changed for sleeping pills, in hindsight I think the hypnosis levels had been reduced. So I was now taking my quetiapine, plus more quetiapine, plus alanzopine. It felt like it was blocking God but it was keeping me sane. I'd thought this in the past when I'd been dosed up on medication, the medication stopped me contemplating and communicating with God, maybe, or maybe it was just blocking my active mind and reducing the thoughts of God.

I cant remember when exactly but at some point my head was entertaining peversity, it was then I realised I was still ill. I was fighting this thing so hard yet it was still winning, I just wanted it rid of me. 

Once I realised I'd made a mess of everything and realised that Derren had the power to heal me, I sent him a letter saying 'help' - I knew he had the ability to make me well, so I reached out to him - I knew he'd know what I meant. I wanted to be cured. I wanted him to take these addictions and perversity out of me. Make me new.

Not long later I sent him another letter, I wanted to just sit down with him. I knew this ending was getting ugly and I that wasn't what I wanted, nor him. If it was him and me then maybe we could both get honest and I could hand myself over there and then, with the truth that everyone wanted.

It wasn't long after I'd gone to D wing that I started hearing songs about love which I'm sure were sent by Derren, trying to get me talking about love again which would guide me back into allignment with God. The Roadrunner theme tune was also played, referring to the undercover officers socks from Marylebone. I decided not to respond to any of this, I didn't know where I was at spiritually at this moment, I was in a sort of limbo - trapped between love and fear.

I couldn't have been in the cell on D wing for more than a few days until some prisoners came to my cell and started looking in the window, they'd been told by an S.O who I was and this when I started getting funny looks from some of the prisoners, some of them were saying things in my general direction which suggested they were working me out, I knew what they'd been told and thought I'd be having to fight again soon.

There were also other prisoners acting funny with me who I thought were told to keep an eye on me and report back. One prisoner had asked me if he could keep some hooch in my cell, a few days later he comes to get it. I asked how it was coming along and he tells me he threw it away and then started acting sketchy. This confirmed to me multiple prisoners were either collaborating with the police or being informed by officers and planning to jump me. I even accused a prisoner of being a grass but he denied it, expectadly so. I wasn't sure what to think. 

But I didn't let it stop me leaving my cell or going into the yard because I knew how that would look, it hadn't worked before so I carried on coming out. The officers were obviously talking as well because when one opened my cell door for exercise and said "exercise?" When I told her yeah she was like "yeah?" As if she was surprised I had the balls to come out. At this point I was certain I'd have a scrap soon.

I made some makeshift weapons out of a toothbrush and a spoon and kept them in a tear in my pillow to be used if I absolutely needed them. But after everything I'd learnt, I knew this wasn't the way to go. My head was telling me to fight but my heart was telling me to just stand confident in God. I think I took a weapon to the yard once or twice, then I decided the only weapon I needed was my cross so I started wearing that instead and stopped taking the weapons.

Then I noticed a prisoner in there who looked so similar to Sirajel, I concluded they must be related, probably cousins. I wanted to speak to this guy and get to know him - it would be like me making amends to Sirajel and also forgiving him. I'd already forgiven him over the years but this would be like a symbolic amends. It felt like he had been put there by God for a reason.

But I still had this internal battle going on, something was still telling me fight, fight, fight. The officers were against me and the prisoners were against me, something was telling me - "fight your way into seg and then fight until it ends." Was it fear telling me? Was it the Devil? Was it love? I didn't know which - but I knew it wasn't God. I needed something to steer me back in the right direction, and soon.

Up until this point I had been totally convinced I was going to be fighting prisoners because of what the officers had informed them but then one day it just suddenly stopped. No funny looks, nothing was being said, it was weird. I couldn't understand why - I thought maybe they had been told that there was some mistake about who I was exactly, but I didn't know why that would happen - surely they wouldn't be able to change their minds once they'd had this disclosed to them. I don't know what happened, I just had to put it down to God.

I then realised some graffiti on my new wall, it had taken me a while to spot. At the top of the wall it had graffiti about Jesus, slightly down there was a prisoners graffiti 'psycho Frankland' and at the bottom it said D+B.

I interpreted this as sign - Frank was on the hospital monitor and wall, and now Frank is appearing on my cell wall, too. And the Jesus and D+B - all on the same wall. In this order:

Jesus
Frank
D+B

With the sprititual realm at the top and then the physical realm at the bottom, with Jesus and 'the blood of christ' and a cross etc at the very top. It was crazy that these signs were all in that cell, and were guiding me back towards God.

I then got called to the court wing for a video call and on the wall was 'Fuck Frankie' - another sign. Then on the electric plugs there was DB/F/L

Derren Brown - Frank - Luke

This must be another sign, the only thing between me and Derren now was Frank.

So I'd gone from the hospitals signs to cell 34 and then to signs in my cell 4:4 and then signs in the court wing - Frank pops up 4 times. In my cell Frank was also mentioned 3 times in different places. Now I'm convinced I'm in some spiritual battle between good and evil. So I write on the wall:

'God and Satan are fighting for your heart because they both know how powerful you could be in the right hands'

Some guys then came to the cell saying they were going to paint over it, so I got anxious I'd lose the proof of all the signs in my cell and asked an officer to record them on his camera. 

I know some people will think these signs are coincidence but if those things wouldn't have happened then it's very possible I wouldn't have started getting back in touch with God and would have gone another route. Another route that wouldn't have led to this confession. They happened at yet again another crucial time, as these signs always seem to do.

I don't think God literally put those signs there himself, he didn't write them on the wall - I know people did. I considered it was done by Derren and the police but after analysing how and where they were written I concluded they weren't. But did God know people would? Had he worked through them so that the signs would end up there? Or was it simply the principles of love and fear working through people - and in turn through me? But what about the odds? All of these possibilities were running through my mind.

I'm now back on track to thinking I've been chosen by God and all of this is for some divine reason, I'd realised I'd been programmed to read the signs but these signs that I was seeing, I could tell they weren't Derren, these ones were coming from natural organic places. One of my biggest worries was that people wouldn't believe my signs, well now I finally had them in black and white with witnesses and camera footage. 

I assumed the things I was pointing too were being checked by the police/ Derren too and so maybe they were again questioning whether this was all divine. They'd programmed me to read signs without anticipating how many signs I actually get and how astronomical the 'coincidences' were - and they were all pointing me in the right direction - the direction they wanted - and God wanted, too.

Something was telling me to write '33 messages from God' - 32 different writings about spirituality and the 33rd would be my confession. So I started writing and kept them in my mattress, adding when I could. A pen magically appeared not long after, I think it was put there by an officer under instruction from Derren as he knew it would get me writing.

----------------

The below entries are 25 of the '33 messages from God' I wrote while in Wandsworth. At the time I believed this whole journey was definitely some sort of divine message and so I felt these entries were more important than I believe they are now. Honestly, I'm almost embaressed because at the time of writing these, I felt like I was some sort of messenger from God. Regardless, I wrote them during my journey and so I've put them down here. They may not be divine but they still might help someone. 

33 Messages from God

#1 Seasons of the Soul

The human soul is like a tree that has to go through the 4 seasons in a constant cycle.

Our souls could be said to be like trees, all different in their own ways, growing in different ways, all individual.

We constantly grow through the 4 seasons; Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter, time and time again.

The Summer, of course, is when we stand firm in the light with the sun shining upon us. We bare beautiful fruit and feel like we are growing, growing into magnificent trees with strong, sturdy branches and crisp green leaves. There are brief moments of rain and sometimes clouds form but these are momentary and soon pass to be replaced once again by powerful beams of light.

But eventually the Autumn comes and our leaves start to tremble and some eventually start to fall. The rain gradually builds and a storm approaches, a storm so strong that we forget Summer even exists. The winds blow and the thunder cracks and the only light that we can see are bolts of lightening shooting down around us. But we keep the faith and have hope because we know that there’s something called Summer.

Then just as we start believing that it may all be over, Winter comes, and with Winter comes snow and even more rain until all of our leaves have fallen and we feel like nothing but a fragile tree, withering away in the wind. Everything around us seems to have died and it feels like it will never return.

But then Spring finally comes and we see some light shining through the clouds. Our leaves start to grow back and our branches start to feel strong again. Our roots continue to root and our fruits start to grow. And suddenly we realise that Summer is about to return.

So what we seem to always forget is that even when we are going through the darkest of times, even when it feels like everything is dead around us and all hope is lost – we forget that we are always growing – through every single second of every single moment, even the worst, most perilous and seemingly doomed moments – we are still growing, growing into beautiful, magnificent, majestic trees.

If you’re going through Winter, just remember to hold on, because I promise you, no matter how bad it may seem, Summer is still waiting for you just around the corner. Stay strong, keep the faith and never, ever give up.

God bless.

#2 Reasons

There is a saying that goes “everything happens for a reason” – but I put it to you that sometimes something doesn’t happen for a reason.

There was a beggar on the street who was approached by a rich man who said “you look like you need to eat, from this day forth I will have one of my servants bring you a fish a day.” The beggar fell at the kings feet to show his gratitude but the king asked him to return to his spot, promising that the first fish would be brought to him later that day.

A minute passed then an hour, then a day and then two days. But the servant never came with the fish.

Eventually the beggar realised the servant wasn’t going to bring the fish and decided the spot he was begging from was unlucky, so he picked up his belongings and moved to a different spot on the other side of the town.

The next day as he was begging, an old man approached the beggar and said “you look like you need to eat, from this day forth I will teach you how to fish.”

After some time, the beggar learned how to fish and once he had learned, the old man gave the beggar his fish mongers stand on the market and the beggar became a fish monger, selling fish to everyone in the town.

We must always remember that not only do things happen for a reason, sometimes they don’t happen for a reason, too.

#3 The Art Gallery

The world is like an art gallery full of paintings, some are beautiful, some are not so beautiful.

As people pass through the gallery, they hang their own painting on the wall and then leave through the exit.

People who hang beautiful paintings on the wall are remembered for the pictures they painted.

Philosophers, gurus, prophets, artists, actors, writers.

And some people hang paintings that aren’t beautiful, they’re remembered for their paintings, too.

Some of the painters themselves are forgotten but their paintings still live on in the gallery.

The beautiful paintings inspire people,; bring people hope, faith, and most importantly, love.

But the other paintings bring people down, depress them, make them lose faith in humanity.

Everyone on this earth paints a picture and everyone hangs their painting on the wall.

So the question is… what kind of picture are you painting?

#4 The Radio

When a person goes in search of a higher truth than the ones usually presented to us in this material world, it could be said that they are using a ‘spiritual radio’ to find that truth.

When you become interested in spirituality, you may find yourself looking into different religions or listening to different gurus and new age teachers, etc.

It is like you are using a spiritual radio to ‘tune in’ to different spiritual stations.

When you find a station that resonates with you, you may choose to stay ‘tuned in’ to that station.

Some people will stay tuned into that one station, others may tune into a different station and listen to that one for a bit, too.

They may stay there, or try a different station after that.

Some may even have a variety of different stations that they tune into regularly.

And others may choose not to turn their radio on until later – some may even turn it off.

But as we search through these stations, we realise that no one station is necessarily right or wrong. But every station has something to learn from. What matters most is that we are searching for a higher truth, trying to improve ourselves and the world we live in. Once you find a station, you may find yourself – and you may even be able to help other people find themselves, too – with your own station.

#5 Balls of Light

When you are born, your soul is like a big, bright, beautiful ball of light.

But as you journey through life, you are steadily exposed to the darkness of the world.

This darkness starts to dull the light, the brightness dims and the glow starts to fade.

For some, they manage to fight the darkness off to a certain extent and maintain some light, and a rare few even manage to glow just as bright as they had before.

For others, their light gradually becomes shrouded in more and more darkness until their light has almost completely disappeared – and all that is left is just a tiny speck of light.

But the light is still there. Even in the most darkest of the most lost of humans souls, there is still a tiny speck of light shining away.

Now if we are to try and help these souls return to that original ball of light, what should we do? Attack them? Persecute them? Ostracise them? Expose them to more darkness?

Or do we show them love and help their souls return to the bright ball of light that they once were?

#6 The Caterpillar and the Snake

There were once two friends, a caterpillar and a snake.

Every day they would travel through the jungle together, discussing their lives.

The caterpillar was honest, loving and kind. He would now and then complain about how slow he was but other than that, he was mostly positive about things.

But the snake would always bring him down with toxicity and negativity. He spoke bad of all the other animals all the time – it seemed like he had nothing nice to say.

Every now and then the snake would shed his skin and the caterpillar wondered “why does he always shed his skin so much but he never actually changes?”

Then one day the caterpillar turned into a cocoon and eventually the cocoon broke open and the caterpillar turned into a butterfly. But he didn’t fly away, he was still friends with the snake and felt like he had to stay with him out of loyalty.

But after some time, he realised the snakes energy was bringing him down too much. He had to fly away soon.

Eventually the day came when the butterfly decided “today I will fly away”… so he prepared for flight and opened his wings…

#7 The King Who Had Everything

There was once a king who had everything he could wish for.

A giant castle full of every possession he wanted, a huge stable full of beautiful horses, and all the land as far as the eye could see.

He spent his days eating luxurious foods whilst being attended to by servants, drinking alcohol with his men and sleeping with gorgeous women.

But he was never happy. When he’d walk through the castle he’d say “I need more things.”

When he’d walk through the stable he’d say “I need more horses.”

And when he’d drink with his men and sleep with his women, he’d say “I need more drink, I need more men and I need more women.”

Then one day an army came and stole all his possessions.

They set fire to his castle and burned down his barn.

They killed his horses and took over his land.

And they slaughtered his men and kidnapped his women.

The king managed to escape to a nearby forest and after weeping about the loss of his people, he laid under the shelter of some trees and said “I need to sleep” and so he covered himself with his robe and slept.

In the morning when he woke, he said “I need to drink” and so he walked to a nearby river to quench his first.

He then stood up from the river and said “I need to eat” so he caught a fish and ate.

The king then sat himself down and suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of peace that he’d never felt before. “All I need right now is God” he said.

#8 The Torch

When a person goes into a cave, do they go into the darkness alone or do they take a torch with them?

They know the cave is going to be full of darkness so they take a torch to cast light in front of them, it then shows them the path that they have to walk.

The same should be done when you are going through darkness in your life – you must shine your light everywhere you go within the darkness and then it will show you the way.

But if you walk into the darkness alone with no light, you will be lost within that darkness.

#9 A Glass of Water

Some will ask you “is the glass half-full or half-empty?”

Positive people are said to answer half-full.

Negative people are said to answer half-empty.

So the answer really has nothing to do with the glass or the water, its to do with who’s looking at it.

People who feel fulfilled within themselves answer half-full.

And people who feel an emptiness within themselves answer half-empty.

So the real question is how full are you?

#10 Mind, Body and Soul

The mind, body and soul could be said to be like a plant; flower, stem and root.

To keep a plant healthy and make sure it grows, you must care for all parts of the plant by getting everything just right – water, sunlight, plant food, pruning etc.

You must remember that all sections are inter-connected – neglect one part and you neglect the others, too. Slowly but surely the whole plant will wither and die.

But if you spend enough time nurturing and caring for all parts, you will eventually end up with a beautiful plant.

#11 The Amplifier

If you want your music to sound as good as it possibly can, you will use an amplifier.

On your amplifier you will adjust the treble, bass and all the other levels as carefully and thoughtfully as you possibly can in order to get your music to be heard how you feel it should be heard.

But like the amplifier plays music, so do the mind, body and soul also play music.

If then, you spend time making your music play to its fullest potential, what would happen if you were to spend time making your mind, body and soul play to their fullest potential?

For example, the bass is your diet – you need to set this level just right.

The treble is your exercise – you need to set this level just right, too.

And then the volume and all the other levels – you need to set all of these just right, too.

Spiritual practice, meditation, prayer, sleep, water, reading…. everything must be finely tuned.

Spend time setting your amplifier at all the right levels and you will find your music being played like it was supposed to be played and heard like it was supposed to be heard.

#12 Harbouring Resentments

A harbour on its own is a peaceful place.

But a harbour will do what a harbour does – it harbours ships.

Ships sail into the harbour and tend to stay there for a while.

It could be said then, that a ship in a harbour is like a resentment in your mind.

If then, your harbour has a ship in it, what should you do? Go down to the harbour and vandalise the ship? Call everyone you know and tell them how much grief this ship is causing you?

Or do you simply ignore the presence of the ship?

If you ignore a ships presence, eventually it will leave. And yes, it may return, but again, what should you do once it returns? Do you spend time and energy thinking about this ship and planning what you’re going to do? Or do you simply leave it?

Which of these choices will bring you the most peace?

If you choose the latter, you will find that sooner or later, when a ship comes into the harbour, it wont bother you all. And in time, it will eventually leave completely never to return.

But choose the former and soon enough, you’ll find your harbour full of ships…

#13 An Untidy House

When a house is untidy and needs cleaning, how do we fix the problem? Do we paint the outside of the house and buy a new car? Or do we go inside the house to do the work?

We go inside.

This is much like when we are spiritually suffering. Many of us trick ourselves into believing that by purchasing new things and changing our appearance, we’re going to fix the problem. The reality is that we need to do the opposite.

We need to go within.

#14 Fire VS Fire

When someone attacks us spiritually, we can initially feel like we should respond by fighting that attack.

But fighting an attack only results in more fighting.

We are fighting fear with fear.

This is like fighting fire with fire.

Does fire extinguish fire? No, fighting fire with fire only results in a bigger fire. We extinguish fire with water.

Much like when a house is on fire. Do the fire brigade turn up to put the fire out with blowtorches? Or do they turn up to the fire with hoses of water?

This is how we should respond to an attack. With water.

#15 Spiritual Warfare

When a soldier is called to war, they have no choice but to be sent to that war and fight.

During the war, the soldier feels distant from their loved ones whilst they battle for their lives doing everything they can to ensure their side wins.

The enemy tries to kill them whilst they summon up every part of their courage and bravery in an effort to defeat the evil and survive.

Bullets fly past their heads whilst they brave themselves through minefields and run from tanks, praying that a missile or bomb doesn’t hit them.

The war lasts for weeks, months, years and sometimes decades but when the war is over, if they have survived, they head back to their loved ones; sometimes scarred, sometimes broken, but still alive – returning from whence they came.

Changed? Yes. Hurt? Yes…. but the do return from where they left from. No longer at war, and no longer fighting. A new version of themselves developed from the treacherous battle they have fought. The same applies to the people on this earth who fight spiritual wars. Wars of the heart. There is a war between good and evil constantly being fought. Some of us are winning that war, and some are losing. But the war is real and it is happening.

For those of us fighting that war, a day comes when we turn around and it seems like all we can see is destruction. But the real result of the war isn’t something we can see, its something we can feel.

So you must remind yourself – not to look around at your surroundings to see the result, but to look deep within your soul – are you winning or losing this war?

#16 A Dark Room Filled With Light

If you walk into a dark room with a light, the light will shine in the darkness and bring light to the whole room.

But if you walk into a room already filled with light, there is nothing that you can do that will cast darkness and kill the light.

The same applies if you walk into a room full of people with darkness in their hearts. The light in your heart will shine upon the darkness and bring them closer to the light.

But if someone consumed with darkness walks into a room full of people who are full of light, there is nothing that person can do that will kill the light in that room.

#19 Digging the Hole

Some of us dig a hole.

We dig and we dig and we dig.

At first the hole isn’t that deep so it’s quite easy to climb out of.

But then we fall back down the hole.

And dig a little further.

And then we climb out again, only this time its a little harder.

And then we fall.

And then we dig.

This time is really hard to climb out of, but we just about make it out of the hole.

You know what happens next.

Yes, we fall and we dig, and this time we try to climb out and it’s almost impossible to climb. We have to use everything in us, every single piece of our energy and strength and heart to climb up and out of the top.

Then we look down the hole and all we see is darkness, we cant even see the bottom – and we’re so afraid of falling back down that hole again that we start to build a ladder.

#18 Loved Back Together

People become addicts not because they’re weak, but because they’re broken.

They use things to try and fix themselves but only break themselves further, until all that’s left is a pile of pieces.

People then see these pieces and think they’re beyond hope, but the only thing that can put a person back together is people.

What addicts need is people to surround them and love them back together.

Because love can fix even the most broken of people.

This is why we must love each other.

#19 Half an Hour

Every person on this planet should be given the same amount of love and respect as the next.

You can learn just as much from the homeless beggar as you can from the richest king.

In fact, you will very often find that you will learn more from the beggar.

If you have an hour to spare and you are planning to visit a beggar and a king, give them both half of the hour.

#20 Gods Will

A prince walks up to a wise man and says “Sir, could you please explain Gods will and determinism to me in one sentence?”

The wise man turns and says “Gods will and determinism?”

“Please” replies the prince.

“Ok” replies the wise man, “if our great, great grandfathers had drunk coffee instead of tea on the 9th of May 1883, we wouldn’t exist! Thank God our great great grandfathers loved their tea!”

#21 An Army Runs At You

If a huge army is running at you with swords and spears crying out war, it is better for your soul if you run at that army crying out peace than it is for you to build a huge wall and curl up behind it.

#22 A Million Ugly Lies

The most beautiful things in the universe are unseen. You cant see the truly beautiful things, you can only feel them.

The most beautiful face in the world could be hiding a million of the ugliest lies whilst the ugliest face could be hiding a million beautiful truths.

Which is most beautiful?


#23 Baby Bird

Sometimes a person can feel like a baby bird constantly getting kicked out of a tree and landing on their face.

Everyone who watches them thinks they’re doomed to fail and that they’ll never learn how to fly. And eventually they stop watching.

After some time, they do learn how to fly but no one seems to know or care that they have – but they are flying.

They then perch themselves on a branch and then they’ve got to learn how to sing, too.

And once they’ve finished learning how to fly and how to sing, they have to learn how to build a nest.

But the truth is that they’re still scared of flying, and they’re still scared of singing, and they’re even scared they wont be able to build a nest – but they have to do it because that’s just what birds do.

Even when deep down, they still feel like nothing but a scared little baby bird.

#24 The Pot

As we journey through life, some of us get seriously damaged by circumstances and events, and we develop holes in our being like holes in a pot.

Different people work out different ways of filling these holes, some are healthy, some, not so healthy.

The unhealthy ways seem to fill all these holes for a fleeting moment and we get a momentary sense of escape, but this is followed shortly by more pain and more pain leads to more holes.

The healthy ways fill a hole or two, and with long-term sustained effort, if we find enough healthy ways, we can fill all of the holes.

The hardest part is just sticking to the healthy ways and not using any unhealthy ways, because regardless of how many healthy ways you are using to fill the holes, all it takes is returning to one unhealthy way to start breaking new holes open again.

A belief in God gives you guidance because you know that Gods ways are healthy ways. If it’s healthy, God approves and if it’s unhealthy, God disapproves.

Give yourself to God entirely and God will help you to fill all of the holes and become complete once again.

#25 Signs

Jesus said you should never ask for a sign:
Matthew 12:39

“He answered ‘ a wicked and adulterous generation asks for a sign'”

The reason for this is that the signs will be sent to you when the time is right, you do not need to ask.

The signs are like sign-posts that direct you towards God. They not only let you know that God exists but also point you in Gods direction.

God orchestrates reality in such a way that these signs appear and they guide the hearts of all those who believe.

The odds of such coincidences occurring are often so astronomical that it is impossible to put them down to pure chance. One or two small ones, maybe. But if you are constantly receiving signs, and powerful ones, you are insulting God and doing yourself a disservice if you ignore them.

If a detective goes to investigate a series of crime scenes and in the pocket of every victim he finds a piece of paper with the number ’33’ written on it, does he disregard it as coincidence or does he look further into it?

You are the detective, and your signs are clues.

So if you are receiving signs then I urge you to look deeper into yourself and God. God is showing you something to direct you somewhere. Trust his guidance and follow the path he shows you.

------------

But I had this huge moral dilemma - my family, especially my daughter. A philosophy I hold dear to is love vs fear, but I love my family so much - if I make the decision to make decisions from a place of love then surely I need to fight. At the same time I know how important the truth is and I knew the world needed to hear the story. But the Gods honest truth is that the heart of my daughter is more important to me than the future of mankind. So what do I do, continue to fight and lie for my daughters heart, or tell the truth and change the world? 

Surely a man would do anything for his daughter, and that's what I'd been doing for the last few years - literally anything I could to save her heart. But the signs were pointing me in the direction of God again. It was this huge moral dilemma I was constantly fighting. It wasn't love vs fear anymore, it was love vs love. God had a different plan to Daddy. I just hope when she's older she understands.

Not long later I lent a chair to a barber to do someones hair and went back into my cell. I got anxious my chair was going to be stolen, leaving me with no chair and asked an officer where my chair was, she said it was still on the wing and I'd get it once the barbers done - then of course the chair got nicked. I then got let out of my cell, cant remember what for and told an officer I wasn't going back into my cell to be locked up until they got me a chair. Then a different officer went to the lads who'd stolen the chair - making me look like a grass. They gave the chair back and I thought for fucks sake here we go.

That evening I heard him calling to his mate about "have you got the xxxxxx" cant remember what word he used, some code for shank or weapon. And then I hear another convo between windows about "getting the grass." I knew I was gonna be scrapping.

The following morning I'm writing my 'messages from God' and I'm in the middle of writing about not fighting fire with fire and fighting fire with water instead. I think to myself, I'm literally writing about defusing problems instead of increasing them and yet I'm getting ready for a fight. So I decided to go up to one of the guys during association and squash it. So I went up to him and explained, he just nodded and we spudded. When I'm walking off I hear him talking about "we squashed it". 

The next day as a peace offering I offered him the chair, I'm reading the Bible and praying and trying to allign with God, I've gotta do the right thing - give up my chair even if it means no chair. So I gave him the chair, hoping he'll see the humility. Of course the humility gets interpreted as weakness and next thing I know I'm seeing someone try to spin my cell and someone calling me a bitch behind me in the meds hatch. 

It's hard being a Christian and doing what should be done in prison. I had this inner conflict, my hearts telling me to do one thing but my brains telling me to do another. You cant be seen as weak in prison - it doesn't do you any favours, yet I'm in there and trying to do as Jesus would do, things were getting complicated.

I'm not sure when it happened exactly but at one point I start thinking I'm going to give myself to Jesus on December 25th, symbollically being reborn in Christ. At this point I was becoming more and more convinced I was 'chosen'. The plan was to quit everything, become completely immersed in Christ. I even planned that once I'd done all this, I'd try to heal someone. There was a guy with a dodgy leg, I thought maybe I'd try to heal him. Might not work but worth the try anyway, just to see exactly how 'chosen' I was. 

At this point I really felt like I should be guiding people to God more, but I had this anxiety people wouldn't want to listen. If someone has a relationship with God already then its ok but if you say it to the wrong person, it doesn't get recieved well. If someone hates God you don't want to start banging on about religion. 

At this point I'm still struggling with fear, I'm not fully in Christ yet although I'm planning to make the leap. So I justify drug use. I needed something to calm my thoughts. This constant internal battle plus the hypnosis etc was wearing me down. Still an addict.

On the 20th I got some subutex which released a hypnosis induced by Derren. I'd been pre programmed to relapse on my release and say 'absolutely anything' - I then had this overwhelming sense of truth - absolute truth. It brought back a memory of when I was much younger, early-mid teens when truth was so important to me and I hadn't been so corrupted.

The following day on the 21st I realised what had happened the day before and was upset - I wanted to make the confession out of my own volition and definitely did not want another cocaine relapse.

On the 23rd I said I was going to give life to Christ on 25th. Maybe the perfect ending could happen - reborn on the 25th and then I'd sacrifice myself like I'd planned on Good Friday. I was becoming obsessed with everything fitting and having some symbolic meaning. 

The 25th then came and it felt like I was released from hypnosis and went into illness. It also felt like I'd immediately lost my faith which made me more confused. Had my faith become purely induced by hypnosis? It was really messing with my head. Was I closer to God because I was hypnotised, or what? Was the hypnosis raising my anxiety more and was causing a delusional faith? All of this thinking was driving me up the wall.

At some point earlier in my stay I had heard Taylor Swift - Anti Hero on the prison radio. I'd never heard it before but after some time I was now starting to realise that it came from Derren. I knew all of this was intended to guide me but to me it was feeling less like guidance and started to just feel like manipulation. I was again starting to believe  that the police and Derren did want me to think I was 'chosen' - but not because they really believed I was. 

I managed to last 3 days until the nicoteine withdrawals were messing with my mental health and my throat had become sorer from the illness so I needed to numb it and got some subutex. I didn't know what to think about God or the situation, my faith was coming and going all over the shop. At this point I was really losing hope this could end well.

On the 29th I had methodone in the morning and subutex at night which completely messed me up and I thought I was OD'ing, then I fell back into illness and was sleeping all the time for about 3 days straight.

On New Years Eve an officer told me what day it was and so I decided to try and quit again.

2024

The following entries are developed from short notes I made from the start of '24

I lasted about 3-5 days into New Year but I was concerned about my mental health so I started again and depression soon set in which started coming out in all sorts of negative ways. But I was still managing a degree of composure - my mate got assaulted and a part of me wanted to jump in but I didn't, I'd told myself I wouldn't fight. When the other guy left I felt dirty I hadn't done anything. It really bothered me. Honestly later that day I said if he wanted to do something about it to let me know. We left it. 

I then explained in my cell how i was going to confess - to update on where I was at as hadnt made clear, I think I'd been quiet for a few days. Then the day after I recieved a song from Derren that suggested he was leaving, so I thought ok, I've explained I'm confessing, he's saying he's leaving, maybe this whole thing will finally end soon. More manipulation looking back - he wasn't leaving. 

I understand the guidance, but I felt like he was a friend sending me a last message and he knew it wasn't the last message - he was still there. I can understand all of the reasonings and justifications behind it - it was a necessary evil for the police to get their man. But I was a broken man who needed someone and the only person I had was Derren, yet that's happening. It messes with your head.

Maybe he and they can understand all my reasonings and justifications, too. But that doesn't matter - the truth is the truth and their job was to reveal the truth. And so the truth is being revealed. A truth that needed to be revealed. People might say God doesn't exist but you have to admit, if God was going to send a story to the world, this would be it.  

I think it was also this day that I stopped using Metazapine. I was almost med-free, bar the Quetiapine I still believed were sleeping tablets.

The next day I smoked a mix in a torn Bible page and it really messed with my head - I hated doing it. The pages are thin enough to roll with so people use it to smoke nicotein-patch mix. It doesn't bother people but it bothers me. I then went into another depression and was really struggling - I didn't know what I felt or where my faith was at. Then that evening I think it was, there was another sequence of signs on Pointless..

The answers and scores on the first challenge I think it was were:

Annie Hall 33
Donnie Darko

Alex the host not long later looks at the screen, smiles and says 'God willing'

And then I think it was the second challenge:

Words ending rb 
'proverb' comes up and gets 5 points - so I check the 5th proverb and its about steering clear of the wrong women and finding yourself a good wife - exactly what I've always needed - a good woman.

I think it was after Pointless that I skipped to a different channel, it may have been later, it will be on the cell footage, an advert comes up about the power of belief on the break and then the movie Hacksaw Ridge comes on which is all about a soldiers persecution as a Christian. A lot of the lines and moments seemed to syncronise with my life, there's even a bit around mid-way through the film where the sergeant asks 'do you hear voices?'

That evening I quit again but I relapse in the morning, it seems like an impossibility. Dealing with everything that's going on in my head and still staying off the nicotein was just too much.

Then during the following day I hear something on National Rrison radio about 'if I can I will' and that evening the 'Happy Birthday Song' by Stevie Wonder comes on.

I suddenly have some memory that there's some historians who put Jesus's birthday more likely to be on or closer to the 12th Jan - and I think thats the date although I couldn't check in my cell - anyway I determined this was Derren telling me that - its another chance for me to have a shot at this thing.

Then not much later the following songs come on
'Something to Say' 
'Killing Moon'
and
'Ship Building'

I determined all of these were Derren. 'Something to Say' because he wanted to hear what I had to say. 'Killing Moon' because of Donny Darko and 'Ship Building' because its one of my songs (the Wyatt cover's the best I think)

All these signs and messages are now enough for me to quit and so I do.

First I gave away all my caps, I was gonna swap them for food at first but then told the lads they can just have them. Then a lad comes in my cell and asks for my chair, but its a bit hostile "gimme your chair bro" or something, because of the earlier situation with the last chair I stood my ground and told him he can have it when I leave. This then started to mess with my head, the first day of this and someone wants my chair but I dont give it them? Thats not what Jesus would do, thats not what the Bible says to do, so for the next 24 hours it does my head in. The next day I saw him on the wing and said if he wants it he can have it, but then he never comes.

Anyway during this whole time I'm praying, reading my Bible and I feel like this is it, everythings right, I'm in allignment with God, not perfect, but doing my best and my faith is the strongest its ever been. It seemed like everything that would happen would be another affirmation I'm going the right thing. Then a guy comes in needing a mattress, at first I'm thinking no I need a mattress then I'm thinking - this is a sign - its no coincidence all these people are suddenly asking for these things, I need to set an example, so I say "here you go mate, free mattress" and gave him my mattress, leaving myself with this wafer thin mattress, it didn't bother me though I'd slept on it before and I was only going to be there for a few more weeks.

I started realising all these other synchronicities between my life and the Bible, such as my Mum and aunty being called Mary and Elizabeth. Me living in Banbury where there is a Banbury 'Cross'. Also living in Stoke Holy 'Cross' for some time. And 'Good'mayes. My oldest friend being called Adam - who'd been with me since 'the beginning'.

So now I'm still feeling like everything's going as it should, it's still alligned and then that day or the next the suns shining into my cell and my neighbour looks into my cell and says 'Look, Gods shining his light on ya bruv!' It was the third day now and everything just seems to be 'right' I felt like I was in Gods hands, and everything was making sense. I've never felt so safe with God than I did then. 

Then Countdown comes on and not long in someone gets 'GODLINESS'

I'm thinking to myself, all I have to do is carry on like this and everything is going to be ok. What could go wrong? I've given myself to God, I'm not smoking, not drinking, not drugging, I'm praying, reading my Bible.... and I'm about to get released and do my confession. This all makes sense, it was all meant to be.

I think it was the afternoon that someone had their TV robbed so I gave them my TV. I had no distractions now, it was just me and God. What could go wrong?

Then that evening, in the middle of the night I have a dream where I'm seeing NN images on a screen, I then wake up. Because I had been conscious that I'd woken up a lot in the recent months sleep talking, I was worried if I went back to sleep, what if I dream something similar and wake up babbling something about what I'm seeing? Its not going to look good. So I relieved myself, purely out of fear. I didn't even need to do it.

At the last moment my conscious kicks in and I change the direction of my thinking to something purer. I know no one will care about this but to me it matters. If the police want to check it then they're free too.

Then the next day I realise I've just given in to the flesh and it sends me into a crippling deep depression and then I'm thinking, did the police do this? It took a few hours to realise they had and that just sent me deeper, completely fucked my head up, I was suicide material again - from being the closest to God I've ever felt and now I just want to die again. I still didn't smoke, but inside, everything was ruined. I felt like something inside me died that night.

I was suicidal for a while, took me a while to talk because I didn't even want to go into it - I was with God and now I've gotta talk about this? Linda Hamilton (Sarah Connor) came on the screen in some other show and I was hoping she'd say something straight away that would help me but I was so disinterested by life at this point I think I watched it for 2 minutes max and then turned it off. I didn't even want a sign I was that lost. 

On the 17th (these dates may be wrong, I think they're right) a cover of 'The Climb' comes on the radio and I'm sure its Derren trying to cheer me up but at this point I've really lost my faith - not just in God but in Derren, too. To be so sure of God and then have it ripped out of my hands in a couple days just tore me apart. I started to really wonder who was on whos side and what the purpose of all this was. I'm there feeling like my life is proving Gods existence and then the police come and plant images in my head... it was starting to look like they're just trying to make me look like the anti-christ.

I was imagining arguments between them and Derren about whether it was the right thing to do because I'm thinking surely Derren wouldn't do that to me, its too deep. Then I'm thinking they all did it, then after some time I even started to wonder if Derren was even still there because its got to a point I've been through so much psychologically, and I've been so close to suicide, surely he cant still be putting me through this stuff, who would do that to a person.  

On the 18th there was some improvement, talking again. My mate got let out so I say my goodbyes and that evening I watch the end of Footloose which I've never seen - about Christianity and belief. Then afterwards I go to National Prison Radio and the song playing is Calvin Harris - Miracle. And that's what I'm gonna need. 

Then I go to church on the Sunday and its communion and the Rev is talking about signs. I asked him afterwards if there was anywhere I could watch a video of his preaching but he said there was nothing online. I'd missed so much of it because my head was getting distrated thinking about signs. Still, a sign about signs when all I'm thinking about is signs. Gotta be a sign?

Then I heard 'Tainted Love' on the radio and didn't understand, what about my love was 'tainted' - was it because I was talking about God and Derren didn't want to hear about God? Or was it Christianity, he didn't want to hear about that? It didn't make sense, what had I done wrong now? It didn't feel like a friendly gesture, it just felt like manipulation and it bothered me. But I still looked over it and tried to work out what I had to do. 

The next day I decided maybe they wanted me to talk specifically about pornography and sexual inadequacy etc so I spoke about that, but I was tired and it was a bit forced, it didn't come out right and I was filling gaps just talking from the brain rather than the heart. I was trying to please them rather than God.

That evening I read a graphic novel 'Opus' which again seemed like a synchronicty, a few pages in there was even two dogs standing opposite one another symettrically, one black and one white - like how the wolves of fear and love are often depicted.

Next day I was tired and exhausted and was becoming disheartened by the situation, I came to the conclusion - God is my only friend. I thought Derren and me were cool but I was losing faith in him and was coming to conclusion the only person I can have faith in is God.

Then I went to get my meds and when I came back 'Ave Maria' was playing - I thought maybe this is Derren, but why the meds? I felt like I needed the sleeping pills, this was when I started wondering if they actually had been quetiapine the whole time.

It was about this time I started wondering where all the signs had gone, I'd had the Opus synchronicity but nothing else really. I'd given the TV away so nothing could come through there - but God had always found a way in the past - all I had was the radio and the signs seemed to be coming from Derren. The more the days progressed, the lonelier I felt, had God left me?

The next day I was reading 'Are You Listening' - another graphic novel and on page 156 it says 'there are no signs' - I thought this must be God - He's telling me I don't need signs anymore, I know He exists now I just need to do what I need to do. And I'm about to be released the next day - get home, write the confession, face the music.. thats the plan.

The next day, on the 24th I get home and have a Chinese with my Mum and Dad and I open a fortune cookie that says 'those who turn back never reach the summit'....

2 weeks I'd been off the nicotein but the stress of being back gets too much for me and backy on the table means I'm smoking after barely being back for a moment.

I then ordered headphones and an mp3 player, I wanted to get this confession done without them inducing more dreams and doing things in my head. I didn't want to go through what I'd been through before in this house, its one of the reasons I left, but they'd messed with the mp3 player, it wouldn't work. After a few nights I bought a new MP3 player but eventually I just told them they can go in my head, they're free too.

The following days I'm looking deep into everything and looking for signs but eventually they stop. I'm now writing my confession and I keep being reminded of the fortune cookie message. Every time I write something deep emotion starts pooring out of me and I feel like I'm healing. 

I've got a plan - get Christened at some point and sacrifice myself on Easter by sending the confession via email but 
I'm thinking, how am I going to do this, and what are the police going to do next? Are they going to come sooner? Block the christening? Can I do this in time?

I checked the date thinking Easter was sooner than it was so my anxiety was crippling me, when I realised it wasn't until a month later I was able to calm down, maybe I could do this.

Every time I opened my little Bible, the page was set to open on the page where Peter denies Jesus - it felt like a sign - God was reminding me. I'd denied him so many times now, it was time to do what's right.

At some point around this time I had a dream where I stole a white kitten from someone and called it 'fear' - I wouldn't realise the relevance of this dream until much later. I wondered if it was Derren since I knew all my dreams were being guided and changed, but wasn't sure at first about this one. 

But as I continued writing my confession, but I'm still being attacked and my anxiety is being cranked up by the hypnotherapy, I started getting really confused, angry too. I'm doing everything I thought they wanted and I'm still being attacked, I didn't understand. My faith was hanging by a thread, I'm being attacked, still I'm writing the confession and still the police are coming at me - I didn't understand. Then I'm having nightmares about Derren, and sleep paralysis a couple times. I was becoming more and more convinced the police just wanted to kill God. I was trying to prove God, they were trying to kill Him. That's how it felt. 

Whenever something popped up on the TV I was still thinking, it this from Derren? Whenever I couldn't find something, I'm thinking have the police taken it? I just wanted this thing to be over.

Then I see something on Youtube, the first video suggested is about 'slipping up and saying something only the KILLER would know' I'm thinking "killer? How am I a killer? How have I slipped up?" I didn't understand.

Then the next day the first video suggested is about 'he's still lying' I'm then thinking "how am I still lying? I haven't said one thing wrong." This was all starting to really get to me at this point.

Then I read through my confession and there were things I was still in denial about, things I wasn't being specific about. I made some amendments, I now knew what they were talking about. 

At some point I realised, they can go in my head for the truth anyway so I have to give it to them. I dont know what they've got already, they could have everything, they just need me to say it. Maybe the hypnotherapy isn't reliable enough, or something. Either way, I had no idea what they had, whatever they have can be percieved or pushed as truth, so I need to just tell it. All I can do now is tell the truth, I have no other option, I realise.

And if I'm to do this for God, for Jesus, for Christianity, for sacrifice - for the world. Then it has to be truth for that reason, too. If I give my confession and there's a lie in it, it defeats the whole point, and if any truth comes to light that I haven't already mentioned in the future, it kills the whole thing. Everything has to be 100% complete and utter truth.

And if I do it, and it fits, and it helps, and it saves - then its beautiful. Yes, the truth is ugly, but an ugly truth is better than a beautiful lie. If this all happens like I feel its meant to happen then surely, surely there's a God. Surely this all happened for a reason. For something good, not for something evil. 

The hardest part is seeing my family. I'm writing the confession and thinking about God and the good this can do in the world but then I'm seeing my family the whole time, too. It's killing me. I keep telling myself I have to make this sacrifice, I have to do it. 

And if I write my story well enough then maybe people wont understand, but maybe just one tiny little piece of them can see that I am human, that I'm not a monster, and if I'm not a monster, then maybe no one on the face of this planet is a monster. Maybe everyone is human, we've all got a story and if we listen to each others story, maybe we can all start to understand eachother better, and help eachother. 

Then the next morning they induced a paedophilic dream. I knew it was induced because I dont dream about that stuff naturally - I dont dream about paedophelia. Sometimes I have dreams where I get drugs but something always goes wrong, or the drugs dont work. But ever since the hypnosis, every now and then I'm now getting dreams about peversity, I knew it was them.

I remember that a year or so ago, I actually had a dream that was the closest I got to a perverse dream and I remember waking up and thinking how strange it was that it had happened because it was so unfamiliar. I now believe its possible this was a hypnotherapy test to see how I'd respond. 

When I woke up it really fucked my head up, but I knew they did it and they were trying to get me to flip out, I wasn't going to let them get to me. Still, I knew deep inside there was only one way this could go, a part of me had started whispering 'fight' again. 

I then saw the newspaper in the living room about Taylor Swift and I'm seeing all these synchronicities in the title and the article, it felt like a message, the simularities were so weird. Taylor Swift (reminding me of the anti hero song Derren sent to me in prison) followed by 'the secret behind her success' - 'in command and in control' 'you know you've made it when you've got your own conspiracy about you' - there's even something about the Donny Darko lead role Jake Gyllenhall in the article. I didn't want to look at it so I flipped the paper over and on the back its the puzzle page saying 'Mind Games'. Things were just getting weirder.

At some point my Mum told me its Lent the following week and we should give up smoking but my head was so messed up, I wasn't even looking to the future, I was trying to deal with the moment. I wasn't thinking about Lent, I didn't think I could quit and didn't know where my faith was at. Little did I know the police and Derren had a plan for Lent but I thought they were trying to kill my faith and kill God, how could I anticipate what they would do? Or that maybe they were trying to help?

After writing in my confession about seg for a bit and reminding myself of the signs, my faith started restoring, "this definitely is for a reason, this is divine" I'm thinking.

The next morning they induce another paedophilic dream. These attacks are making me go backwards because it feels like they're panicking. Why all these attacks right now? It doesn't make sense.

That evening I got something off my chest. I explained how things in my youth bother me, that I don't want to confess them. By now all the things I dont want to talk about are whizzing around in my head, I know I need to get them down, its just finding the courage I'm struggling with.

The next morning they induce another one. 3 on the trot now, and this one is the darkest - they're directing the dream, too. It starts off pretty innocent but then just turns dark. I know my head didn't do that, they did it. The fact they're doing these things again is just giving me hope. I'm there writing a confession and they're attacking me over and over again, it doesn't make sense. 

I then started thinking about all the attacks and planting they've been doing and its just making me about as far from confessing as I can get. My heads telling me fight again. None of this is guiding me to confession.

The 13th comes and I'm having pancakes with my Dad and he mentions its Shrove Tuesday, so I Googled Shrove Tuesday 'Shrove Tuesday is when Christians make their confession' immediately I see how beautiful this could be - I said I'm going to sacrifice myself like Jesus did so people can be forgiven. Now its shrove tuesday, the day Christians confess. It all seems so perfect.

I went upstairs with the intention of getting my confession written, the whole thing that evening, but when I get up there, all the lights are off and wont turn on. Then I try to turn the bedroom light on, wont turn on. My head immediately goes 'I'm not going to let the darkness put out my light' 

That seemed like a sign in itself. I wondered if the police had done it and had to check with my Dad it was done when the guys were fixing the roof. If the police did it then its manipulation, if the guys doing the roof did it then its organic, its a sign. I concluded in the end the guys doing the roof did it, this was the push from God I needed.

I then listened to Splinters and Stones, I knew what I had to say and what I had to do. 

The longer that went on, the more I realised I was never going to write the entire confession and email it, so decided I had to just say the big things, the things that had been playing on my mind that I needed to get down.

I spent hours plucking up the courage and eventually managed to do it, I got it all down and in the time I needed to it. 

I confessed on Shrove Tuesday, 13th February 2024.

The next day I realised the police had been building me up for that moment and I had a huge paradigm shift, I was being guided to confess on that day the whole time. It took a lot of processing, I thought that the police and Derren were trying to kill God, but they were working with him. We were all on the same side the whole time. The Devil was just trying to ruin it all.

Confessing everything and dealing with what was going on was too much for my mental health, I went downstairs and was short with my Mum about something petty, I needed to smoke - I didn't want to bite at my Mum and especially not now, so now I was still smoking, trying to stop, but I couldn't do it. I started eating just veg and stopped the codeine but was running out of Quetiapine so was worrying about that as well. Late at night I Googled Lent again, starting to realise what Derrens plan was. 

I then had a dream of a little white robot kitten crawling up me in the street and saying 'I'm not real' - I'm pretty sure this was Derren now. The week before I'm naming a white kitten fear and the next week it's a robot telling me its not real. Seemed like it was planted. 

I was now getting closer to God and realising what I had to do - I was going to be sending my full confession on Good Friday, doing as I'd always said and doing it on a day that would be symbolic. I then opened my little Bible and it wasn't on the page where Peter denies Jesus anymore, it was on the page of the crucifixion. I was laughing in tears of joy at the symbolism. When I was fighting it, the Bible is opening to the page where Jesus is denied, now I'm letting go and accepting it, it's opening to the page of the crucifixion. 

And I realised why they induced the dreams days previous to Shrove Tuesday - because the darkness needs to be exposed for the light to kill it. I just wish they'd killed it. 

I think it was late that night I realised that the day of my confession was supposed to release everything, but it had been blocked by some codeine I took. The intention was I confessed, the pain released, the healing happened, and I would be cured. But I'd blocked it. Messing it all up once again. At least I knew now Derren was still trying to cure me. 

I just wished I could communicate with them - I didn't know what was going on at their end, what they're doing, planning, how they're working. If I knew then I could work with them to get it done but I kept thinking they were fighting me, I was losing faith, didn't know where I was at. Then out of the blue a succession of events leads to a confession.. I was on codeine because I felt like I was withdrawing, I was panicking, confused, I felt wiped out. One little codeine and I blocked Derren, I blocked God, I blocked the whole thing. It started scrambling my head again. What did I have to do to get cured? 

The next morning I remember having a dream, and I'm cussing at my sister, I don't know why I was talking to her the way I was, it was messed up. I said 'ask Derren what I have to fucking do' something like this. And then I see a pen, so I knew I had to write.

I started getting really depressed and anxious during a game of Scrabble with my Dad but when I went upstairs I recited Psalm 27 and it released a lot of pain. 

At some point I realised my faith was being amplified, but I knew it was the hypnosis and not God. Everything felt divine, bright, colourful. 

It's confusing when you don't know whether things are happening because of you or because of hypnosis, on the one hand I know Derrens trying to help but on the other I want God to do the work, not Derren doing the work acting as God. But I was thinking was Derren doing Gods work? Was God working through Derren? Derrens plan is the same as God, I'm thinking, I know that much. At least I think I do. 

I knew Derren was trying to help me quit smoking and I should have been able to do it but my OCD needs things to fit, or I need to plan it, it needs to be symbolic, some sort of reason for it happening on a certain day. I planned 25th Feb and was delaying it because of that. It was also confusing because I felt like my faith was being manipulated by the hypnosis, one minute I've got faith the next minute I'm questioning it. I know the police want me to have faith, I know Derren does, I think. Now I do anyway. It's hard to understand what's going on, running through all these things in my mind all the time is hard, anticipating their next move, my next move, Gods next move. 

I then realised - the Devil is the one trying to stop me from breaking the chains now, not the police. There's just one chain I hope Derren can help me break. 

That evening I got really hyper, my head wasn't right. I couldn't sleep all night. Feeling positive when you know its all about to come crashing down is a strange feeling, so I put it down to the hypnosis. But I knew I wouldn't be hypnotised forever, so at some point I'm gonna dip, and the next day I'm dipping. 

I can't remember when exactly but I stumbled across a video on YouTube that I realised was planted by Derren days previous, in preperation for Shrove Tuesday, I think. Repeated words and such. But I hadn't watched it. When I watched it I realised there was probably other videos planted, too. But my faith was so weak in those days leading up I wasn't looking for videos about God, I was just lost. But still, I appreciated the video. 

I then had another dream clearly induced by the police but at this point I just had to practice egolessness. I cant change what they do inside my head or how I respond. I can change what I do consciously but subconsciously, thats out of my hands. 

I then rewatched the Jordan Petersen and Jim Caviezel video and realised Caviezel plays Jesus in 'The Passion of the Christ.' This was when I realised that when I started writing my confession, my next move was being guided by two characters - Jesus and 'Frank'.

The next day, at some point I started questioning everything and getting confused again and I checked the little Bible - its returned to the original page, about denying Jesus. I sent a video of it to my email just so I've got proof of what the Bible is doing. But I'm starting to become scared about doing it now because I don't know what it's going to do. It keeps telling me I'm denying Jesus. And part of me still is. My faith and belief and mind has been thrust about in so many ways, I'm not sure what to think.

My Quetiapine runs out in the next couple days and then its the 25th. I plan to give it another go. I know people wont care, but to me its important. I want to do this. Derren is free to do what he feels to do, the police are free to do what they feel to do. I can only do my part, the rest I have to leave to God. 

I'm worried to talk about what I want to happen, because if goes wrong again, then I've failed again and I know there's only so long left until this ends. But I will talk about what's running through my mind to keep an account of my thoughts during these last days, however many there are. 

22nd Feb 

It's really screwing with my head, one minute I'm fully believing the signs, the next minute I'm questioning them. When they happen they're so powerful, when I reflect on them they're powerful, then sometimes I get paranoid I'm just paranoid. But some of them are too much; and with this story, with my life, it just all seems like too much to be nothing. My journey, the events - everything. Something's going on. It has to be God.

Even after I wrote this, I looked at the TV in contemplation, and I'm watching a rain video on YouTube - the screen is a moving picture of the inside of an apartment and there's rain dripped down the windows. In one window there's the reflection of another window that looks like a cross, staring right at me. 

On one hand it's like Gods been calling me this whole time, on the other I'm still questioning it. It's hard after all this time having my faith manipulated by hypnosis, wondering what's me and what's the hypnosis, what's God. 

I literally had a vision, hallucination, whatever you want to call it, about denying love. 3 times. Surely that's a message from God? And not some elaborate interpretation of God - I mean God, God. A God who sends signs, signs when you need to see them. That's what He did, surely?

23rd Feb

Mid-day I woke in sleep paralysis and felt like I was inducing an astral projection that didn't fully manifest. I could hear the buzzing and some weird noises, and eventually I determined it was something to do with Derren.

Later I had a hypnotherapy dream about Caviezel, Jesus, churches.. testing my faith, where my heads at currently.

My concern is that if I don't give myself to Jesus then people will hate me, for receiving so many signs and messages and not handing myself to Christ, but the more I'm thinking about it the more its becoming obvious. I have to.

I'm not denying love and goodness, that's needed, I've always known that. I just dont want to hand myself over to something I'm not 100% about.. this journey has confused me.. but I feel like that 100% might be on its way.

I prayed so long for help, maybe this was the help I was praying for. Derren was sent to fix me, but I wasn't fixed. I'm still flawed. Maybe I always will be. Maybe that's the message. I don't know. Maybe God has to do the rest of the work, or maybe I have to. I've had so much help so far maybe I need to just man up and help myself now.

I dont want to get locked up in the slammer and then give myself to Christ, that doesn't make sense. If I'm going to do it then I have to do it, and soon.  

I'm confused.

24th Feb PM

My heads all over the place and I feel really ill. I can tell the police and Derren are trying to manipulate me again. Trying to kill my faith all over again, of which there's already little. Yesterday I was feeling it coming back, today I feel hollow. This is wrong, how many times do I have to be picked up and then smashed to pieces again? They're constantly manipulating me into thinking they want to help, then they throw me against a wall. Ever since this 'healing' started, its never been for healing, its just been to build me up so they can break me down again. Constantly. I've gone light on them in this confession, humbled myself, but its hard not to get worked up about this because this treatment is just wrong. The worst thing I've actually done in my entire life is some stupidness in my teens and I've been tortured for 2 years, arguably more. This isn't justice, its simply psychological torture and I have no idea how its still being justified and allowed to happen. 

I've said evil things, I'm not denying that but I'm not a risk to children and I'm not a child abuser. After all of their investigating and hypnotherapy surely they've drawn that conclusion? Can they not see the reality of this? I suppress something that comes out of me when I use drugs, I've admitted its there, I've made it clear I want it gone. But even on drugs I have never done anything that warrants 2 years of torture. Depraved fantacies that happen in the mind when you're smoking crack do not warrant years of torture at the hands of the police. Its medieval what I've been put through. I just dont think this is right, its unethical. I hate complaining because I know people hate me and want me dead and believe I deserve it because of all the evil I said and I hate myself too but I know this isn't right. How was this ever allowed to continue. I need help, support, stability, medicating. Not this shit. 

When I'm mentally well none of this craziness happens. Everything over the past two years has been the result of me being seriously ill from being directed and controlled by hypnosis and psychological manipulation, which has nearly left me dead. It makes me look like a maniac - I'm not. I'm fucking ill man and I need help.

The most messed up thing is the perverse dreams they induced, they literally induced perverse dreams and not only that, guided the dreams and prompted me with specific words. Dreams about laptops and paedophelia - I dont dream these things so I know its all them. I have something in me I suppress and that I hate yet the police have literally planted it in my mind sober when I'm sleeping and directed it - to be used against me later. That is beyond fucked up. That's not even thought crimes, that's planted-thought crimes.

I wore headphones for a few nights, other than that I've been letting them in my head every night because I wanted the healing, I thought thats what this was about. And I wasn't worried about what would happen because I know who I am. But its not about healing - thats just what I've been manipulated to think its about. This has been about me being made to look as bad as they possibly can so that they can throw me in prison for as long as they possibly can - when I'm not even a risk to anyone. I fucked up, I really did, I know I did but I was ill, lost in addiction, and I was always trying, I tried so hard and they know it, too. And they know I want the healing, too. But they don't even care about that, they never did, they just made me think they did and they used hypnosis and my belief to manipulate me and now they've stripped my beliefs away they're going to strip my family away too and knock me out of hypnosis and chuck me in a cell where I'll probably kill myself once reality really sets in. How is any of this legal. 

25th

Approx 12:30am 

I'm not going to let them kill my faith. 

They amplified my faith so I'd talk, then when they wanted me to shut up they killed it again, now I'm trying to rebuild it, they're trying to guide me away. 

Approx 6am

I cant do this, I cant give up smoking. It's too much. I ran out of painkillers and Quetiapine and my heads in too much of a state to do it. I need to try and maintain some degree of sanity whilst I spend time with my family as I dont know how long I've got left. They're more important to me than any of this.

I'm sorry I had an outburst and wrote all of that last night, I dont want to be bitter or resentful. My head's just fried and I'm withdrawing.

It didn't make sense to me that all this could happen and me still not break the chains, it felt like that's what was supposed to happen. For me to not come out of this a better man didn't make sense but I see now - I'm am coming out of this a better man - I'm confessing.

9:40am

I know the police had to do what they had to do. I understand, I do. I can see how it all looked from their perspective. And I know what I did was wrong. I lied, then I lied again and again, I said evil things, I wasted a tonne of police time and money, and I put a lot of negative and toxic evil energy into the world. It's just hard when you're looking at it through my eyes, after the hell I've gone through for years, going through all this hell and knowing I've got a world of hell waiting for me, too. It's hard to come to terms with.

To anyone who reads this who's got a problem with drugs or pornography, for Gods sake I beg you to stop, get help, do whatever you have to do to get out of it because I'm telling you now it will all end in tears. It's not worth it.

11:50pm

I'm going to explain exactly where my heads at right now. The past 10 years have been hell. During this time I've been getting signs that always seemed to be directing me towards God and I tried to follow those signs but things kept going wrong. 2 years ago, I suddenly started listening to a lot of gospel music again. This was the same time the police started increasing the pressure and my anxiety started to increase along with it. I don't know if it was the increase in anxiety that caused it or the hypnosis because it feels like I was being directed then, too. Buying the whisky for example, I dont know why I bought whisky on that very evening - and I'm pretty sure it was a bottle of Teachers. I think my decision to drink was caused by the moving of the camera, so was all of that intended to happen by the police and Derren? From then on, and for the past 2 years, I have been contemplating God more and more and reading into the signs more and more. The signs have seemed to become more eery and profound, but has that been because of my desperation and situation? Because of anxiety? Because of hypnosis? Because of God? I don't know. Now I've just been through this last few months where a lot of crazy stuff has happened and a lot of signs have been hitting me deeper. But is that because of everything that's been going on? Because of where I am in life, what I've gone through, what I've been going through? Or is it God? Some of it just seems too weird, too much to be put down to coincidence. But I also know that I've been given some form of a Messiah complex, not being the Messiah as such, that's obviously ridiculous given who I am, but just the belief that my story is some message from God? The signs and messages and the timing of everything seems so profound that surely it must be God? Or is it that I'm confused because I've been programmed to believe its God? Now the hypnosis has been decreased slightly, I've now lost this false faith that seems to have been installed but I'm now left with me, trying to read into all this with a bit more clarity, and try and understand everything for what it is. 

If the signs were sent to guide me to Jesus and that my job is to break the chains before this is over, then I'm failing. But I'm in a situation where my mental health is so poor and my situation is so complicated that it seems like an impossibility. And if I do it, am I going to get too ill and worry my parents? Not be able to enjoy the last moments with them? Not be able to enjoy the last moments with my daughter? And all this knowing the police could bust through the door at any time.. its too much. But if I dont do it, I'm a failure, I look like I was sent all these profound signs but still couldn't do it, still failed, was still questioning the reality of God. That looks awful to Christians, to theists, to everyone I just look like a failure. I was even given 3 chances to release all of this and be healed through hypnosis but I ruined it every time because I'm a drug addict going through an incredibly complex situation with an incredibly complex mind. I prayed to God to help me for so long, maybe that was God trying to help me, too - working through Derren, to perform a miracle, and I ruined it. Or maybe God doesn't want me to be healed like that, maybe I'm supposed to be a flawed individual, maybe that's the point of this. God sent the world the story of a flawed individual that tried and tried but just kept failing. 

The love vision I had, that was big for me. The metaphor, its too deep. I consider the journey and then I think about that and it's just all too much to be a 'coincidence.' Surely it cant be? But my mental health has been so poor for years, telling people about signs and them saying its coincidence, telling them about things that have happened to me and them thinking I'm mad, thinking about the condition of my mental health when certain things have happened, and then all this whilst being told your crazy for years - I keep questioning everything.

If this would have ended last year maybe I'd be ok but since October things have just got deeper and deeper. I try to consider if its just my conscience + the concept of God + hypnosis + situation but then I'm keep coming back to the vision, that keeps getting me. There's some other parts of my journey I've started looking deeper into as well but I'm starting to get concerned my mind is taking me too deep.

Whatever happens, I plan to submit my full confession on Good Friday. I have no control over what the police do but I know they're reading this, so this way they know what I'm doing. 

------

27th 2am

Hell

This is hell. This is literally hell. I'm in hell. 

When I went through the first healing hypnosis I thought the police and Derren had seen that I wasn't who they thought I was and that they were trying to help me because they knew how bad it looked. I thought they'd worked it all out, that I wasn't this monster I'd appeared to be. But they weren't, they thought I was a monster and were trying to drive things out of me that aren't there. 

I've been GP medicated whilst self medicating and now I have nothing carrying me and my head is in tatters. I was trying for years to sort this mess out and now its the biggest mess it could possibly be. I feel so ill. Everything is destroyed, broken, fucked, more than it ever has been. 

There's no way I will be able to live with myself, what I've been through psychologically for years has been absolute torment and now I've been mentally tortured and driven into a confession I didn't write by my own volition, now I'm so fucking lost I cant even put it into words and my head is taking me to the darkest places imaginable.

I haven't harmed any children. I haven't groomed any children. I'm not a risk to children. I have been fighting a monster for years that only appears behind the screen of a monitor when I smoke crack. In my right mind, medicated, none of that depravity happens - yet I'm in a hell that only the Devil would deserve.

I've tried to look at all the different ways this journey could be analysed through all the incrimental steps of love & fear/ light & darkness/ good and evil/ God & the Devil but its all too deep to be broken down using any of these terms. These are all words we try to use to make sense of the universe but their are too many possible perspectives to make any sense of this journey with words. Words cant explain this journey; the start, the middle and the end because its all too complex. Its too subjective to understand it because there's too many possibilities of why this has happened, why anything in the universe has happened since the moment it was formed. If it was ever truly formed.

I could say love was guiding me this whole time, but fear was guiding me this whole time, too. Decisions I made from a place of love could also be argued as being decisions I made from a place of fear. And vice-versa. So the principles of love & fear were guiding me this whole time, not one or the other. The ways I responded to each piece of guidance of the principles are the result of how I felt I should respond to said principles based on how I believed love & fear served me or would serve me at any given moment. Trace this back in incrimental steps, way back to my birth when I came into the world. The moment I arrived here, the principles of love & fear approached me and I responded completely organically and naturally. If then, I responded organically and naturally, I have responded organically and naturally ever since. And the principles of love & fear were then presented to me again, also organically and naturally. So this whole journey has been a natural occurance that to me feels like a destiny, a fate, a determined outcome that could have only unravelled in one certain way. 

And surely it can only unravell in one way, because we're here, nowhere else. What happened in the past was destined to happen because it led us to this point. 

My desire to constantly break down determinism comes from an evergrowing need to let people know that everyone on this planet is the result of a trillion factors that happened previously. In my confession I tried to break down my trillion factors but no matter how I write it, I can only write words on a screen with limited language and limited understanding so I can only break it down in a very limited way. The only possible way for you to understand my journey would be for you to be born as me, with the exact same brain chemistry, DNA, biology, physiology at the exact same moment at the exact same time in the exact same situation at the exact same place. Then you would live the exact same life as me and you would be sat right here, writing this. And if I was to be born as you, with all the exact elements as you, then I would be there, reading this. 

The thought you just had after reading that, where did it come from? Did it come from 'you'? Or did it come from everything that happened previously? If it came from everything that happened previously, then who really are 'you'? 

I believe that you and me are both the result of the universes determined unravelling, our thoughts and beliefs are the result of a trillion predetermined causal factors, yet we're both made from exactly the same thing - so there really is no 'you' and 'me' there is only 'us'. Our thoughts and beliefs lead us to believe everything is dualistic, love & fear/ light & darkness/ good and evil/ God & the Devil are working in duality. But the universe is non-dualistic - the universe doesn't contemplate opposites - the universe just 'is'.

The principles of love & fear/ light & darkness/ good and evil/ God & the Devil guide our reality to develop in the same ways we do, deterministically. The way reality has been shaped up until this moment is also a result of all the previous factors. Not only do we have a destiny, a fate, a determined outcome - so does the world. Where we are right now is exactly where we were always going to be. 

I have too many thoughts running through my head to be able to make sense of the world, everything I have just said is merely an opinion. There's too many ways of interpreting life. I could talk about compatibilism, libertarianism, free-will, freedom of choice, the seen and the unseen, the known and the unknown and I could do it until my brain falls out and I could do it a million times in a million different ways and still someone could come and tell me its wrong and present a new perspective. This is how we eventually find truth but the truth is too deep for me to ever even understand because I'm a fucking human.

I've never been so confused about life and I wish God could make some sense of it for me. 

I wish I was dead.

-----

4:45am

The human mind isn't built for this. My brain isn't designed for this. 

I haven't been able to even sit down for 5 minutes and process everything properly for so long now, all these thoughts rushing back are too much. This reality is too much, its too dark. I'm unable to break it all down. I've been in a constant state of confusion and anxiety for years, the last two years more than ever before, now I've had my brain hijacked, my thoughts and perceptions and emotions manipulated, my life rigged, monitored, recorded, I've been tortured, isolated, broken down, picked up, smashed on the floor, then picked up and built up and smashed on the floor a million fucking times, and now I'm about to be picked up and smashed on the floor again and my family with me who are going to have all of this explained to them and will be picked up and smashed on the floor themselves, only they wont have had  years to try to actually process any of it, they will have to process it all in the space of a few minutes. We're all doomed.

-----

6am

Dont believe anything people say, God is real and my story is proof. 

God reached out to me a million times and I denied him a million times and now I'm burning in eternal damnation. 

Sometimes I thought God was guiding me - he wasn't - it was the Devil mimicing Gods form. 

Some people dont like religion - they dont like God - but look what He did. 

He gave the world a story about a man who denied Him for too long, and was tricked and manipulated by the Devil, promising him heaven, until he eventually found himself in eternal suffering.

When this story ends, however it ends, it will be God finally revealing himself to the world to prove His existence. Because whatever the outcome of this story is now, it will be the right one. It will benefit the world. 

I just pray he looks after my family, because I cant. No one hears your prayers from hell.

I'm sorry for everything.

8:40am

There's no way this isn't divine, there's no way, I've had visions and premonitions and countless signs and its all led to this point where I've failed once again, lost all faith and I'm in a psychological hell and I'm going to be in it forever, nothing makes fucking sense anymore and now I'm being attacked again after everything I've given the police what the fuck am I supposed to do, this is fucking torture, I've been tormented for so long just fucking leave me alone. I cant take this anymore.

I refuse to believe something isn't going on, step in my shoes and live this life and go through this nightmare and you'll see there's no way that there isn't more to this to all this. You come in and mess with my head on ridiculous levels and I'm trying to process it all and make sense of it and you're still coming at me. I will not be put through this any longer this is fucking demented. 

I'm trying so hard to make sense of the world here and you're just scrambling up my head even more, I'm going through a million possibilities of what reality is and you're just confusing it even more, I fucking beg you like I've begged you a trillion times just stop this. I haven't fucking hurt anyone.

I dont fucking deserve this, its too much, its way too much, its been too much for too many years and its going on and on and on and fucking on and I'm fucking done with it I swear, stop pushing me, stop putting me through more hell I cant stand this fucking pain.

What am I supposed to say, I've said everything and more, a million times, I'm a broken record thats been smashed a million times just fucking stop putting me through this.

This isn't how its supposed to end, I'm supposed to be better, I'm supposed to be well, I'm just iller and more confused than I ever have been. 

You came in and fucked with my head and my faith and now you've left me completely lost and confused and you're still fucking with me.

Tiffany Hudson - 'Quiet'
"Here we go again, my mind racing
And I can't seem to win
All these crazy thoughts and feelings
It's like it never ends
Until Your voice breaks through my noise
And I know I'm not alone, not alone
You will fight my battles
If I will just be still
Why would I keep running
When You're right here?
I'll just be quiet
And let You speak through the silence
Here I am, no more hiding
You are in this moment, I won't fight it
I'll be quiet
I don't need to know what comes next
Tomorrow's in Your hands
I can trust You with my future
'Cause You're already there
I hear Your voice call me forward
And I know I'm not alone, not alone
Away with the distractions
I wanna hear what's true
The only words that matter
They come from You
I'll just be quiet
And let You speak through the silence
Here I am, no more hiding
You are in this moment, I won't fight it
I'll be quiet
I'll just be still in Your presence
I'll just be still in Your presence, God
'Cause I wanna hear You
I don't wanna hear anyone else
Quiet
God, You're here in the silence
Here I am, no more hiding
You are in this moment, I won't fight it
I'll be quiet
I'll just be quiet
Oh, God, You're here in the silence
Here I am, no more hiding
You are in this moment, I won't fight it
I'll be quiet"

I'm coming off quetiapine and codeine and its messing with my head, last night my head was all over the place, I wanted to die, I just wanted to leave this planet, I needed to leave a last message, I was considering the visions and signs and they all fit and it all seems divine yet I dont have any faith, it makes no sense, and my head feels like its in hell.

I wasn't trying to manipulate anything, you dont care about manipulation when all you want to do is die, I just want to try and leave a last message that makes some sort of sense.

My mental health is being misinterpreted and misunderstood, I'm suffering here with mental illness. I've made everything clear in my confession, how can I possibly go back on my words? There's 350,000 of them. 

The way this is all being looked at is wrong, I dont understand how I can be misunderstood after everything I've said and done, surely you should understand me by now but you clearly dont.

This anxiety is pulsating through me yet I'm writing and there's no relief, my head is so confused about all of this, what have I said that is wrong here? What am I doing wrong right now? I dont get this, it doesn't add up.

How am I still here having to explain myself, I've explained everything, I've broken everything down, its done. I now have this really fucked up head and I dont know how to handle it, if you think last night wasn't me talking then we're going to have problems because I'm still going to be talking just as I am now, this is me, this is the truth, yet you're going to misinterpret it and attack me again.

I want the relief from writing and thinking correctly, I'll do anything to get that to happen but I'm doing everything as correct as I can yet this is happening, something in the wiring is wrong or the preprogramming or however I've been percieved, its just wrong now.

I'm now going to go back to life and this isnt going to change or get any better no matter what I do or say is ever right so what the hell am I supposed to do, its ridiculous man.

Everything was going fine now I'm falling off again and I'm not doing anything wrong, how am I supposed to know what to do or say to get this to stop or calm down because I dont know what the hell it is you want from me, its impossible to work all this out, gimme a break man

-------
Midday my friend Adam who's been with me since 'the beginning' that I haven't spoken to for 3 years calls me, but I miss the call
-------

28th
Early AM I realise I've got decision to make and pray for an answer, and get the one I know is right
In the afternoon I follow that answer. 'The end' ?

29th

On the 26th I felt like my faith had completely disappeared and God had left me. I didn't know if this was the hypnosis, or me, or both.

I gradually started seeing life from a different perspective, a perspective where there is no God.

I started to write about determinism etc and had so much I wanted to write about the principles of love and fear and my journey but it was all too much, the amount of possibilites and the amount of things I had to say were whizzing round in my head and I just felt.. words cant describe where my head was at. This belief structure I'd built had suddenly collapsed and I couldn't make sense of anything.

I had believed all of my life was some message from God and the story could save the world but once God had left me, that wasn't possible, I wasn't a messenger of God, the story cant save the world. I'm just a man who's been hypnotised and who's family is about to be crushed.

I used to say heaven and hell are states of mind. I had absolutely no idea exactly how true that statement was until the 26th. 

I thought about all the messages, signs, visions again, how many I'd had, how long God had been reaching out to me, yet I never truly accepted Him. I never truly believed. I just hoped. There were fleeting glimpses of divinity, but it never stayed with me for very long. 

I felt like I was in hell.. and I'd taken my family with me. 

If I'd have accepted Him all those years ago, none of this would have happened. I would be ok, my family would be ok. I had so many chances to give myself to God yet I just couldn't fully submit.

If you feel like God is calling you, and you can do it, then please, do it with all your heart and dont ever look back.

I'm still trying. 

Psychosis

I'm going to make it perfectly clear here that I do not have psychosis, I am not trying to convince people I have pscyhosis and I have never had a psychotic episode apart from the crack-induced psychotic episodes I've had. I have never heard audible voices in my head, apart from voices in adjacent rooms when smoking crack. This does not always happen, only when my mental health is really poor. It used to happen a lot more when I was smoking crack all the time.

When I was in the house after coming back from Hewell, I was making some poor attempt at faking some sort of episode. But I was doing so much of it that it got to a point that some of it felt out of my control. For example when my daughter was in the room, the last thing I would ever want to do is scare her, yet I did it, I remember on a couple of occasions. It became a sort of obsession, something I had to do. 

When I was in seg and officer Daley came to the cell, it triggered something that sent my head spinning. I think this was when my thoughts started to become too much and I started hitting my head, shaking it and at times the thoughts were too much that telling myself to shut up helped. 

Since then there have been times where I've done it without trying to look ill. But because it was this thing I did that I knew made me appear ill, it became part of the things I'd do obsessively during the stay in the house. Let me make this clear, at no point was I hearing voices or seeing lights that were in my head, it was all the police and I know this.

When I was doing it the other day, I had no intention to make it look like I had psychosis, the thoughts in my head were genuinely too much. It would make no sense, I have made it perfectly clear I dont have it, I've made it perfectly clear that I've never had it in the past, I've made it perfectly clear I dont hear voices and I've made it perfectly clear I dont see lights or hear sounds, bar some buzzing I sometimes get. I know that I've made it clear and I also know that it is perfectly clear to see already from everything that has happened and has been said and done. The police have been filming and monitoring literally every move I've made for the past 2 years - how would it make sense for me to suddenly start trying to put on a fake psychosis that I've already admitted looks completely sad, poor and pathetic? The only thing it would do is make me look really bad and thats the last thing I need. 

Please review the footage, I remember exactly what happened - I was withdrawing and it was literally the day after my Quetiapine stopped. It felt like my faith had disappeared and my belief in God was non existant. Then I was trying to write about everything from the new perspective but I had so much to say and none of it sounded right. I wanted to try and get deep, elaborate on everything from a deeper level, but I couldn't do it, it was just repetition of what I've already said - what other people have already said. It started to screw with my head, then I started thinking about God again and the visions, signs, journey and everything that it felt should prove the existance of God to anyone but yet I couldn't believe, I then thought about everything that was about to happen, what was about to happen to my family, and I wanted to die. Then my head started getting really loud and everything thats happened over the years, different parts of it, the hard parts, and the signs and messages, visions were just running too fast in my mind and then I'm seeing the 'love' thing in my head and yet I'm still not believing and I still want to die. My mind was like it was in hell and I thought it was because I couldn't believe, or that it would look like I couldn't believe to people, and I thought I want to just kill myself and started thinking of ways to die and thought what can I tell people? I need to tell them whats going through my head, maybe this will be my last message and so I started it and elaborated on it. Yes I didn't know all of those things were literally true but it felt like it possibly was and I wanted to warn people because I hadn't believed in God and now this is where I was. The theory is if you dont believe in God then you go to hell - and I hadn't believed in God and felt like I was in hell - people needed to know where you can end up if you dont believe. Yes, I didn't know for sure but I was willing to say it if it helped people. I didn't care about anything anymore I just wanted to leave a last message because all I could think of was death. 

There were times in the house where it literally was too much, perhaps I wanted people to see it was too much, it was torture what I was going through. Admittedly it was a situation that I put myself in, a situation I deserved, but it was too much. At times I wasn't even sure I knew why I was doing what I was doing, it just became a thing that felt uncontrollable, then at other times I felt I had to do it to maintain it. I remember reading a post that was planted by the police about the voices being internal dialogue, which it was, it was internal dialogue that was too much that was exacerbated by the OCD, but then I wondered was this planted to create the get me to retain the information to then talk about. But still that is what felt like was going on, then I broke all of this down to my Mum when we spoke and wondered if it had been planted so that I'd speak to my Mum about it and that's one of the reasons I thought her jacket was bugged. 

After being under surveillance for so many years and always thinking I'm being watched and recorded etc, its become very confusing knowing whether who I'm being is me or if I'm behaving differently because I know I'm being watched, I know whats going through my head but no one else does, maybe some of the behaviour is just me wanting people to know whats happening in my head because they cant see it, they dont know, but I want them to know. I dont even know, I think its a combination of all different sorts of things, I know at times I have, and I know at other times I haven't, and I know for certain I've done things completely out of my nature and completely out of the ordinary that I felt like I had no control over, too. 

I want people to know exactly what was going through my mind and exactly how and why I respond to the things I do in the ways I do because its important, from the outside it looks bad because of the situation I'm in but from my perspective I'm trying so damn hard to get down to the very core of absolutely everything in as much detail as possible. At times its looked like I'm manipulating when I'm not - I'm suffering. I dont want anything to be a manipulation at all - I want it all to be 100% truth. I know where the lies get me, I know how they make me feel, I know what the hypnosis does to me and I know how I sometimes look, I've said this before - all I can talk and write is truth so thats why I'm here and I'm doing that. If I know all of this and I know manipulating is going to completely ruin me even further and there's literally no way of doing it yet I still do it then I dont even know who I am because I dont want that, I want a clean heart and a clean soul, I want out of this hell I created, I just want the world to know the truth. But it has to be the truth, I dont want anything to be blurry, no one is going to learn from this or get better if the truth isn't the truth.

I know I sound bitter and resentful in some of this confession but at times I've written parts when I'm not in a good place. I want to make it clear that anything in this confession that seems bitter or resentful I understand why everyone has done the things they've done and I dont feel bad towards any of them. Literally every single person in this confession. Everyone has their reasons for everything, everyone does what they do and I understand that will all my heart.

I spent 10 years trying to save my family. I always told my daughter family is the most important thing in the world. Over the years I just grew to love them more and more, more than I even thought was possible. But the hell that had been created through lies, drugs, pornography was too big for me to save them. I said I was going to sacrifice myself like Jesus did so that people can be forgiven, but now I feel like I've sacrificed by family so that I can be forgiven by Jesus, this is a metaphor obviously, but I never intended to hurt them, I was always trying to save them, I was always trying so hard to save them. I know I didn't do it intentionally, hypnosis + the concept of God + the world + my conscience are what led me here but I still fucked it all up, my life is just one absolute fuck up and the thing I always told my daughter was the most important thing, I ruined it. 

I think I told her God was once, but I obviously didn't fully believe it or understand it for what it meant because if I did then I'd never have found myself sat here writing this. I wish I truly understood then what God is because I'm starting to feel like I do, but its not what most people think, I dont think it is anyway. Its not what I thought. I think at times I've started to work it out in the past but then I've confused myself with what it isn't. I wish I could understand, I wish everyone could. 

It makes sense that people give God a personality, a gender, it makes it easier to have a relationship with a person. I dont know if its a he or a she or what, I simply dont know. All I know is that I'm pretty sure there's something going on thats deeper than our own understanding. My opinion may change again in the future, probably, it seems to every day anyway.

It doesn't matter what religion you are, or if you're agnostic, atheist, all that matters is are you a good person.

Talking about all this stuff is too much for my head so I'm going to stop. Its too complex a topic for me to go into. I dont know what to believe. 

02/03

I feel weird and I dont know why, I'm writing the truth but I need to go through everything to add bits and there's too much of it, I dont have the energy anymore.

I'm so confused man. I was fed up of hearing myself talk a while ago, now I'm fed up of seeing myself write. Reading all of this just bothers me, I'm seeing it all through a new pair of eyes and I dont know where I'm at with everything. 

I want my faith back.

I dont know who God is but I know it works. When you're truly alligned with what God truly is, it works.

Dialogue

I always justified the depraved dialogue because I thought no one was being harmed; no photos or videos of children, no grooming of children, nothing to do with children apart from the context. But it was harming me and it was harming whoever I was speaking to. The things I said, I've never done nor seen. I've honestly seen probably 100-200 pieces of child pornography in my entire life, 200 at the absolute max. And never anything anywhere near as dark as the things I said. I wouldn't want to see those things happen and I wouldn't want those things to happen to children. Its sick, twisted and depraved and I dont understand why things that dark come out of me when I'm on crack.

Dreams

I dont dream anything like any of that, never have, not even once in my life can I remember a dream like that, if I'd had one then I'd remember it. This is another thing that always told me I had a conscience and blamed the crack because it never happened in my dreams. I've never even successfully smoked crack in my dreams, I think actually maybe once, I dont know, I remember waking up but maybe there was another time it happened once, I have a vague memory of. But no looking at laptops and definitely nothing happening with children. 

I remember two dreams last year, maybe the year before involving girls but I woke up, I am sure this must have been the hypnosis because its never happened before, thats why its in my mind as a memory because it was so unfamiliar. 

I fucked up

I know I fucked up a million times but there's nothing I can do about it anymore. I have to accept the past and just deal with writing this confession. I know that this could have ended a long time ago and could have had a much less messy ending but this is life, its messy. And I'm a fuck up, this was never going to happen without me fucking it all up. I just want people to know that I swear to God I tried my hardest.

Child pornography

When I was pushing the boundaries and I ended up looking at child pornography, it wasn't long until I got arrested. Probably 6 months max I think. It was the same thing, trying to look at just porn, after a while it would be dialogue, then NN, then child pornography. Because I was so high when doing it, safety and morality went out of the window, hence the gmail episode. As soon as that happened, it pretty much stopped. Maybe there was a little for some time after, I honestly cant remember. But safety became a huge thing and from then on the child pornography completely disappeared or phased out soon.

Most of the child pornography was girls between 8-12. Nudes mostly, some oral (around 10-20 pics and videos), very rarely any penetration (2, maybe 3 pics and videos). Not justifying any of it, its all wrong, just making it clear of exactly what I've done. As mentioned before, probably 200 pieces of child pornography in total max.

I can rememember about 30 pieces of child pornography involving adults. Even in my using, there was a part of me that knew it was wrong but the drug use would override the morality. Again, not justifying it with the small quantity but I want to make it clear that I wasn't a child pornographer hoarder or anything like that. 

I've seen a lot of NN (non nude) images of child models, no idea how many - a lot. I used to justify this because they weren't being abused, but behind the scenes when the camera was turned off, they probably were. And even if they weren't, they were being depicted as sexual objects, thats wrong in itself - for the child and for anyone who looks at it.

The following day when I was sober I would never look at it again, the first thing I'd do would be delete it and then get rid of the phone. If I kept a phone for any amount of time, I would never return to it until I was high on drugs again. By doing this I told myself I wasn't an actual paedophile when of course I was in complete denial. "It's the drugs" 

Its confusing when you only do a behaviour when you're high on drugs, but of course I think being on crack just means morality and safety disappear, it doesn't mean it wasn't me doing it. It was me on drugs, but I was smoking crack knowing where it was going to take me. 

Sometimes abstaining when I was younger was a problem because once my sex drive had built up so much, my head was in a place where it wanted a huge release and so the drugs would call me and sometimes I'd fall off. It was a catch 22, masturbate and feel like shit or abstain and end up feeling like shit. 

My children

I have never abused my daughters. I once touched my youngests backside inappropriately and my penis tapped my eldests leg once for literally a second while she was asleep. These were one-off occurances that happened years ago that have never happened since. I dont know where my head was at, I was so lost. They were never repeated because they felt so wrong. I'm deeply ashamed that I let this happen. I didn't want to talk about it, especially since they were isolated and didn't lead to anything especially serious, but if I'm to clear my conscience and tell the truth then I have to say these things, and so I have. 

Whenever I spoke about 'my daughters' online it was purely roleplay fantasy, I would never describe them as they are specifically. I mentioned their ages a couple times when I was really lost, early on. 

My eldest daughter, I dont really have a relationship with, she has her own Dad, and a family. I see her from time to time but she knows me as Luke. I once sent a photo to someone of her (dressed) but I felt like a piece of shit afterwards and never did it again.

My youngest daughter, I have always been a Dad to. I have never had fantasies about her and have never done anything to her. I would never talk to another man about her like that. She's been my best friend through all of this and I never look at her in that way. 

When I look at her, nothing like that happens in my head. And the idea that someone could think that about my own child disgusts me. It's so confusing, because I've looked at children and had those thoughts, yet everything with my daughter is completely pure love. How could anyone look at my child and think that? Yet I look at other girls and my head goes there. 

Safety/ Morality

One of the reasons I haven't done anything in the past years is because of safety. I have tricked myself into believing this was because of morality, but I think a lot of it was safety disguised as morality. I have been so safe for so long that I wasn't even sure why I was doing what I was doing - I told myself it was morality when in actual fact I think a lot of it has to do with safety.

But there have been times when I remember considering doing something but not doing it, again I told myself it was morality but was it because I was so anxious and paranoid that I didn't want to do it? I honestly thought I was healing because I was never acting out my perversity in front of a screen and was doing it in my head instead.

But whenever I do it, even if its just entertaining fantasy in my head, I always feel disgusted with myself, disappointed in myself, and tell myself not to do it again - because I know its wrong. The same applies to if I see a girl I'm attracted to on the TV or internet, many times I could have been 'sneaky' but I didn't do it because I knew it was wrong. So its not only safety, there's definitely an element of morality, too.

Its hard for me to distinguish exactly what I've done and why I've done it at whatever point in time because I've been riddled with so much paranoia and anxiety, its only now that I'm starting look at it all and reflect upon it honestly with myself.

After spending the past years being extremely safe, anxious and paranoid, whilst at the same time trying to heal and get rid of this thing, whilst also constantly monitored has made me really confused about exactly who I am. I'm able to accept and say now that I am a paedophile who is attracted to underage girls and who masturbates to underage girls. It doesn't matter if its on a screen or if I'm being safe and doing it in my imagination - I'm still doing it.

I thought I was getting better because I wasn't doing anything but I dont think the safety was only partially disguised as morality I think it was partially disguised as healing, too. I wasn't healing as much as I thought and I wasn't becoming as moral as I thought, I was scared of being caught and my lie was getting bigger. 

I have only ever visited NN sites, chat rooms, YouTube videos of underage girls, etc when I have been under the influence of drugs because the high overrides the safety. But there have been a handful of times in the past 10 years where I have masturbated to an Instagram photo or a picture in a book, something like this - very small amount of times. I could probably count 10. Because this has happened so few times, I have always believed it was because of morality but I now think its also because I've been so anxious and paranoid of looking at anything to do with children that I've avoided it. Its a combination of the two. Its impossible for me to say what I'd do if I thought I was 'safe' because I've never felt safe. I've always been too anxious and paranoid that the police were monitoring.

The fact I've only done it a very small number of times in the past 10 years for me proves there's a large element of morality to this.

When I used drugs and did these things, I was still always 'safe' - it was like I was getting my 'fix' without doing anything that could get me in trouble. As mentioned before I had a short spell of child pornography when things were really bad but that stopped as soon as I was arrested.

When pornography is on a screen it seems 'ok'. If I was to see some of that stuff in front of me, I'd know it was wrong and would interfere, try to stop it. When its on a screen and its been recorded and uploaded and labeled as 'porn' - you get brainwashed into thinking its ok. But some of that hardcore stuff is brutal, its not ok and it shouldn't even be legal in my opinion. 

Of course anything involving children just isn't ok, regardless of what it is. But again I know people get brainwashed into thinking its ok, they justify it. I justified it on drugs, but still, I justified it. 

In the last few years when I have masturbated it has usually been to pictures of young women, sometimes pornography but I prefer the pictures of young women because I have an issue with pornography. For years I have been trying to rewire my brain to be just attracted to women. Thats what I want. I dont want this thing inside me and I've taken a lot of measures to try and get rid of it but its still there.

Let me make all of this perfectly clear. For the last 10 years in my sobriety I have been completely consumed in anxiety and paranoia that I have very rarely acted out perversely unless it was purely in my imagination. The few times I have done it, I thought were morality because they were so few but if I analyse each one, and I'm honest to myself, it messed up my head so much that I didn't return to it, I think I'd tricked myself into thinking this was morality when in actual fact it was safety. 

Its confusing because I created a reality for myself that was so consumed in fear and anxiety that I was scared to do absolutely anything that could implicate me and I felt like this reality I'd created was some form of healing mechanism so that I could improve morally, so my belief was the actions I were taking were now moral because of the fear-based reality I'd created, every time I'd avoid something perverse I'd affirm to myself "see, I am moral" after doing this for years and years, I started to become convinced my actions were moral when in actual fact I think they were fear-based. But there were things I did that affirmed to me that I was moral, for example buying the Miss Elizabeth and Audrey Hepburn magazines, trying to rewire my brain, ironically a book I bought for the purpose of masturbating to something pure had a girl who was about 11 with no shirt on, and I masturbated to it, completely erradicating my intention of doing something pure. Afterwards I felt disgusted in myself (I only did this once) and not long later threw the book. Again I told myself it was a moral decision - but it may have been to do with mainly anxiety, its impossible for me to say because I dont know how I would act and behave if I thought I was safe because I haven't felt safe for 10 years. Every decision I've made has been based consumed by absolute fear and paranoia. I am a paedophile and I am attracted to underage girls and I masturbate to the imagination of underage girls but only on a very small number of occasions have I masturbated to girls on the TV or internet, I have always told myself it is because of moral but like I say, I have been very confused about safety vs moral for all the reasons mentioned above. 

Yes I am willing to admit that there were times that if I could have done it and been safe then I probably would have.

This all stems from my belief that I'm not good enough for a woman and that I cant satisfy a woman. I'm sure there's a woman somewhere that would be happy with me and could make me a better man and that it wouldn't result in rejection or toxicity but I never found her. I want a good woman who can bring the best out of me, change me. Obviously now if that happens then its not going to happen for a long time. But I hope it does. 

I know who I am, and why I am and its not what most people think. I cant change their opinion, I can only write this confession. Perhaps they'll see I'm a man trying his best to be a good man, perhaps they wont. That's completely out of my hands.

Rumour

When I was 15/16 a friend and me babysat for a neighbour. In the night, the child (about 2) woke up and we didn't know what to do,  we didn't know why she'd woken up, so we changed her nappy assuming it was that. When the parents came home, I told the mum but she went and checked and the nappy was dry, she then starting behaving strangely. I realised she thought something had happened but I was a kid, I didn't really know what to say. She didn't make a direct allegation. Eventually we left. Then a few weeks later I heard someone say that so and so had said I was a paedophile. I put 2+2 together and realised the woman must have thought I was a paedophile.

I was a bit confused at 16 but my mind was not warped to do anything that fucked up, never has been, she was suspecting me of actual child abuse. Back then I was a good kid, I hadn't even seen NN images, I was probably looking at 15 year olds, maybe 14 at a push, nothing lower. 

I had to point this out because if it gets brought up later it'll look bad. This way we can get the truth and both the Mum and my mind can be put to rest. 

02/03
I was starting to give in, I'm not sure if I knew it was 3/3 the following day, maybe I'd spotted it but by this point I'd lost faith and every time I'd play gospel music my head would start messing with me (wasn't sure if this was me or the hypnosis), I felt like I had to let it go, at least for a time

3/03
I searched for a Janis Joplin song, 'Little Girl Blue' and after listening checked the suggestions and one came up 'Try Harder' I didn't know this was Joplin, it seemed like a message but I was overlooking any type of message at this point, I looked at this one as coincidence, I didn't want to even entertain the thought it could be a sign because of where those thoughts had been taking me recently, to severe confusion

At some point I realised it was 3/3 and thought maybe I should quit at 3:33 but 3:33 came and again I left it. All of this setting dates and failing had become too much and my faith was too broken to pick it back up again. My faith in God and in myself. I just wanted to make it to the end alive.

at 4:33 I went to roll a cigarette and I heard a sound, I worked out this was Derren, maybe he does still want me to have faith, maybe he doesn't mind, its just about the chains, either way this is a signal, to do this, so I put down the tobacco.

Later I went to get a biscuit and I heard another sound but thought why would he not want me to have a biscuit? So I had the biscuit, not long after I realised he meant to fast, to make up for the day I missed, so I decided to fast the following day.

I scored 33 on my second move in Scrabble, unintentionally, and put down the word 'PRAISED' as a sign to Derren I knew we were on the same page now, or at least a similar one.

I didn't smoke for the rest of the day.

4/03
I wake up the following day and turn on my laptop and the time comes up 3:31 exactly, another 33. I then fast for the rest of the day. Still no cigarettes.

5/03
I had a dream where I went to kiss a woman but she rejected me saying "you ruined it" I didn't understand until I reviewed what I wrote the day or two before, I realised I was in denial saying that not acting out in my sober mind was because of morality when in fact there's a large degree of safety involved. I dont believe it is purely safety, morality plays a part, I've explained more on the footage and in this confession.

06/03
3rd day no cigarettes and no Codeine left, no headaches. I've now been off Quetiapine for a week or two, so I am now drug and med free, obviously alcohol free, pretty much everything free.

I have almost written all the most important parts of the confession, everything that needs saying and have nearly cleared out my conscience.

I am still beating myself up about the past, how many times I fucked up, but everything seems to be falling into place now, spiritually at least, so I am going to try to reconnect with God to help me through these last weeks.

I dont know where my belief is at, but I know I need it, if I had truly alligned before then I wouldn't be suffering now. I'm now in a place where I am almost in full alignment.  

07/03
Still nicotein free, alcohol free, med free, codeine free, meat free and masturbation free. Back on track.

08-21/03
No entries

[Added 28/3]
At some point I decide to get christened and book page changes to crucifixion - fourth change, keeps going back and forth.

Bible then gets water on it and damages Bible, I think it may have been the police, not sure.

22/03
I will only be writing entries here now when I feel its absolutely necessary. Everything is on footage and surveillance. 

Holy Week [entires all added on 28th]
Please see footage for further details

Sunday 24th
Attended church with my youngest, had a drop of alcoholic wine for communion which triggered hypnotic response, struggled for the rest of the day.

Realised daughters solar system was being handed in on the Monday, didn't look too deep into it as was questioning the signs.

Confused about faith, talking about mental state.

Monday 25th
Daughter hands in solar system. Cant remember anything significant that happened on this day.

Confused about faith, talking about mental state.

Tuesday 26th
Went for meeting with Rev at local church about getting christened, ask him where he's from and he says Barnett for a bit and then Wandsworth, He points out that on Sunday he preached about John 2 v 23 and I ask him if he can send me an email about what he spoke about at the service

"Dear Luke,

It is [redacted for anonymity] here. It was good to spend time with your earlier.
I am just following up our conversation about John 2 v 23

in these early days of Jesus' ministry he is a big hit – he has been doing all sorts of signs and wonders in the capital city And we read that “they all believe in him, when they saw the signs he was doing.” (v.23)
But strangely, v.24,  Jesus doesn't believe in them, he won’t entrust himself to them. Why?  Because he can see their hearts (we see that in v.24).  Jesus can see that whilst they are enjoying the signs – and ‘believe’ in Jesus’ power to perform them. That is not enough. Sure enough, as John’s gospel continues, and as the people begin to hear more of Jesus’ teaching and hear his claims  about himself,  we see them departing from Jesus plotting to kill him (John 5 v 18 ).
Why?  Because Jesus is the Light (John 8 v 12) – and what does Light do? It exposes the darkness.
[In fact that is what is going on in the Temple in John 2 v 13-22 – There, Jesus arrives in the Temple (the symbol of God’s glory and presence among his people – and the place of worship and sacrifice) and finds it being misused – and God dishonoured. So, Jesus who is the Light  - shines out in the darkness – he starts to drive out the traders. Which is what Light does (see John 1 v 5).]
The more we know of Jesus the more we will either be drawn to him or want to run from him. For example, in John chapter 6, the crowds were very pleased with the signs (see 6 v 14, and 6 v 26, and 6 v 34) particularly how they were so well fed by them (v.26)!
Like in chapter 2 Jesus again sees this shallow belief.  He then teaches “I am the bread of life (6 v 25) – that came down from heaven (v.38). That who ever feeds on this bread (v.35) will never go hungry. If they will live forever (v.51). 
What did the crowd make of that?  They were scandalised! And many ‘disciples’ (followers) turned back and no longer followed Jesus (John 6 v 66).
So Jesus turned to his twelve disciples and said – “Don't you want to leave me as well?”
And wonderfully,  speaking on behalf of the twelve, Simon Peter replies, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life” 
And there is the lesson.
So clearly in John, the signs (miracles etc) are sign posts to Jesus who has the words of eternal life.  We are not to get so carried away with the signs that we miss what they're pointing to!   
John tells us why he has written his gospel in chapter 20 verse 31” These are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name”
We meet Jesus in his word. And his word teaches us that he came to our dark world to lay down his life for us - paying the punishment our sins deserve. God then raised him from the dead three days later - which means anyone who hears his word and trusts in him will share his risen life (John 5 v 24 and John 6 v 40) and John 2 v 22). This is to turn away from our sin and turn to him in faith. 

There are seven major signs in John's gospel. 
There are also seven “I Am” sayings by Jesus - (In the Old Testament ‘I AM’ /YHWH  is the name of God that He gives his people to call him). 
= I Am the bread of life; I Am the Light of the world; I Am the Gate;  I am the Good Shepherd; I Am the Way, the Truth and the Life; I Am the Resurrection and the Life).

I can bring a John's gospel for you tomorrow 

Thanks so much 
Warm greetings 
[redacted for anonymity]"

Start thinking about the signs again. I dont think Rev will chirsten me. I decide its probably better if he doesn't based on the circumstances. 

We then arrange to meet the following day.

Later that evening I become too tired and cant deliver my message properly, start obsessing about things I've said and how they could be interpreted, questioning faith - why would this happen?

Wed 27th
Wake up and know I need to stay up but really tired, breaks me down a bit through day. Write the following mid-day but cant write more because head is in a bad place"

"For the past 20 days I have not written any entries because it was becoming too much to deal with the process as well as writing entries. I decided that since everything would be on the footage, the entries were unnecessary. 

During this time there have been additional signs which I've mentioned along the way, as well as spiritual progress, development and reflection. The signs have gradually brought me to this point now where I am starting to understand what it is I've been trying for so long to grasp. Or at least I think I do.

I am now 2 days from submitting my confession."

That afternoon I go to see daughter showcase solar system in the afternoon and then spend some time with her. 

Later that evening my Dad comes back from his second AA meeting and denounces his atheism and says "God is love and acceptance" similar to what I'd been saying in my room for the last couple of days.

Come to realisation of two signs/ synchronicities (daughter and Dad) - gives hope.

Remember the Bible sign I received showing me page of the crucifixion on day I decided to get christened but couldn't have explained it to the Rev and dont have time, not sure whether its a good idea, etc. Choose to delay for time being. 

Edit: when I decided to get christened I recieved the sign but when I went for the meeting the Rev didn't offer to christen and suggested we meet the following day. The next day I decided it wasn't a good idea for me to go in, I was very tired and felt ill and didn't think it was fair to leave the decision in the hands of the Rev because he doesn't know the full story. If he knew the full story he would probably make a different decision. I may still get christened but it feels like God may be telling me to wait.

Thursday 28th
Something in my heart was telling me I had to deliver a message so I spoke and delivered what I felt was right.

I dont know exactly where I'm at spiritually right now. I just know we need to love each other.

I regret not reading my Bible more and for not praying more.

I think God might be real.

Tomorrow I submit my confession.

Friday 29th