It was around one year ago that I encountered a young man dressed in the clothes associated with terrorism and a cover picture with white arabic writing against a black background. I can't read arabic, it probably was a spoof. However, this kid was asking for trouble, and by the looks of it, was asking me for help. Why else like my posts dressed like my mortal enemy? Attention. So I wrote a nice little poem about why people are afraid to look at the truth and in the process of hiding from our hurts we hurt others. I am sure many of this guys real life friends and family all chipped in, but we guided him to the light. It was a few months later when the psychological consequences of this instance crumbled on top of me. I had a nervous breakdown, and began seeing things and imagining things that my brain was convinced were true. I knew that I was ill so I went to a doctor. The doctor prescribed me antipsychotics and antidepressants which I still take today and they help me a great deal. Fresh air and meditation simply wasn't going to work on its own. Because of my questionable mental health, I was investigated by social services in regards to my ability to care for my disabled child. I was very angry and after three months of limited access I lost my nerve and wrote a commanding letter instructing them as to my rights of law and the fact they are breaking them. There was no actual evidence that I was unable to care for any child. So, they allowed me to have my parental rights back. Only a few weeks after this, I was met with a homeless person outside my home. I offered them a room for the night, and they took illegal drugs. Thinking that the best thing was to just ignore it and let them go the next day, I made a mistake. I was too soft. Easy target, so she came back later at night the following day. I didn't have any children with me and I was put on the spot, so I reluctantly allowed her to stay again. In my mind, I was planning my conversation that would put an end to her sponging. It's difficult for me to be assertive. Day three and this woman appeared again in a very dominating mood. She began doing what she liked in my home after inviting herself in, and then began telling me what to do. I decided to tell her there and then that I was not to be ordered around and she was to mind her manners. She flipped and insulted me, called me names and said my home was a dump. She then said she was going to get me beaten up if I didn't give her my money. i only had ten pounds and because I was afraid, I gave it to her. This was a deliberate mugging in my own home. Because of this, I have again been banned from my daughter, not by social services who said I was a fine dad, but because her mother thinks I am unsafe. I do not believe she would be saying this unless I had already been investigated. As you can see, because of this series of events, I am now not able to see my child, who I have looked after every week for twelve years. It hurts to be in this position, she has Easter eggs waiting for her, I am waiting for the phone call to take back the insults and to invite me to be a dad again, but I don't know when that will be. I miss her.
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