Changes Are Afoot

I started my blog "What Would Ripley Do" a year ago.   In that year, I have written 11 posts.  A tiny amount, especially given that when I ran my old blog, I was writing on average 100 posts a year, for nearly 10 years.

I found going anonymous hard as I am at heart, a sharer when it comes to writing.  As I have said before on this blog, my feelings and thoughts always flow through me more when my thoughts come out through my fingertips and are not outwardly spoken.  As a result, there is a lot of me in my old blog. 

Photo by Stephen Leonardi on Unsplash

But what do I do now when I write anonymously?  I can share my thoughts and beliefs here without revealing anything about myself, like I do on Twitter and now also on Parler (this will be a future post I feel); but not to share pieces of myself when I write would just not be me and this is why I think I have been suffering from writer's block.

It also feels strange to talk about myself here to a readership of little or none, when previously, I had readers of my work who either knew me, or got to know me through my writing.  I was not by any means well know, but I also knew that I was not talking into the void, with no one to read my thoughts but myself.

But here I am now.  My urge to write has overridden everything and so here I am, talking to myself or perhaps the one or two that may read this and so I must begin by saying hello.  Whilst you will never know my name, where I am or what I do for a living, you can get to know me through this blog, if you wish.

The thing that I was most proud of when I met people who had read my blog before but never met me until that time, was that some said that whilst they hadn't known me in real life, they felt as if they knew me and that the person presented before them was not a stranger.  

So I have started a new path.  I will say what I think and be honest about it.  I may hide my identity but will not shy away or hide who I am as a person.  If you ever meet me, you can decide if that is the person I am offline.  I would like to think so.



I am a single issue person who will listen to most (exceptions obviously before anyone asks me if agree with the obvious deplorables, although that is also subjective).  You may agree or disagree with posts I write from hereon in, but I like and enjoy open conversation.



You can never win an argument or sway someone to your corner if you do not understand or will listen to both sides of the debate.



Signing off x

Fighting Depression

I sometimes compare having depression to being a boxer, fighting in a ring.

Both you and the black dog are in a dance, with you trying to repel the quick jabs and the hard punches.  You duck and dance and deflect and sometimes manage to get a punch in there yourself too.  Some fights you will win, some you will be defeated.  That match is done and the next day you will get up, shake yourself off and fight once again.  

Just like boxing, depression is not a team sport and you are in the ring alone.  No one else can fight for you and your opponent is invisible to everyone but yourself.



Each morning you wake up and find out whether you have a normal day ahead of you, or a fight.  At the back of your mind you hope that one day, it is not a fight to the death.

Image from Unsplash

The things that I have heard people say about those of us who have depression disgust me.



I am not weak.  I am not lazy.  I am not as someone once said to me "wallowing in self pity".  I am strong.  Stronger than they are.  I would challenge anyone who thinks that depression is easy to spend some time in our shoes.



Unless you have had depression, you will never really know just how bad it can get.  How sometimes it feels like your soul is dying and your heart is shattering into a million pieces.  It takes a lot of strength to just get out of bed some days.  But we do.  We get up, we go to work and we hide the monsters that are attacking us just beneath the surface.

I started another battle with the dog today.  Everything I have done so far today has taken effort and strength.  All I want, and still want while I write this post, is to go home, hide under duvet and binge watch Bob Ross.  But instead, I reminded myself of what I have accomplished so far today, with each step a punch, however tiny, against the black dog who seeks to hold me down.



I dragged myself out of bed                  Punch!



I got myself dressed                                 Punch!



I left the house and got on the bus                     Punch! 



I went to work and spoke to client                         Punch! Punch!



I had a telephone conference and put my points across        Punch! Punch! Punch!



I am writing to you now                The black dog starts to back away a little



That sounds like a very normal day and indeed it is, there is nothing special about it at all.  But accomplishing even the smallest step feels impossible when depression hits and your tears are only a blink away.  Everything takes effort and will.



Some days, you know that there is no fight in you.  Not even the smallest steps are possible.  That is ok.  It takes as much strength to admit defeat when you need to, as it does to come out punching.  Even when the day is a loss and I feel like I have slipped down into a deep, black pit with that bloody dog standing at the top, snarling at me; I am silently picking myself up, inch by inch, for the next day.



I have spoken about how having depression is like being a boxer in a ring.  It also involves being an actress.  Whilst I am able the majority of time to have a normal day, go to work and converse with people, the symptoms of my depression are being held back by me, just under the surface.



My smile may not reach my eyes, but I am able to get through a day without anyone noticing that there is anything wrong.  (I do not recommend this to anyone, it isn't healthy.  But it is my way, for now).



Tears are either supressed or fit into time slots when no one else will notice.  I switch off my heart so the heartbreak I feel doesn't show whilst I speak to a client or a colleague.  How do you switch off your heart?   Practice.  Years of practice.  You are however turning yourself into a walking stone, for essentially other people's benefit.



I will finish my working day.  I will go home and allow myself to feel again.  The duvet will come into play while I recharge.  The gentle tones of Bob Ross will sooth my soul.  Tomorrow, if the black dog has stuck around, I will do all this again.



Tell me I am not strong.

When Did The Liberal Left Turn Into a Woke Cult?

Indoctrination can be achieved in many different ways.  From the drip drip method that is barely even noticeable, to utter submersion.



When I was a child, I went to a religious primary school where the local vicar was a regular visitor.  I was told that I was a Christian before I even knew what or who a Christian was.  Religion was dripped into my forming mind with prayers three times a day and hymns at morning assembly.



At that age I just did what I was told, believing that that was just the way things were.  I was not old enough to realise that I choose to have a religion or not.  I could choose a different mindset, a different path.

Photo by Zac Durant on Unsplash

Religion and I collided a few years later and we went our separate ways.



Religion can be many things for many people. A hub to the local community, an enrichment to people's lives, or simply just a comfort or safety net that some need or want.  It can be part of who someone fundamentally is and can form the basis of their moral code, their bench mark for right and wrong.



But religion can also be escalated to cult level, making you condone things you never would before.  Do things that you would never do.  It is also the perfect excuse to control people and has been used in this way for centuries.  Blind faith can be dangerous.



Religion has been a very useful tool for the subjugation of women.  It is, to quote one example, what allowed, arranged and condoned thousands of young girls and women to be locked away in the Magadelene Laundries in Ireland for the crime of having a baby, for being presumed "promiscuous", or simply in some cases; being too pretty.



It is why women were told that their place was in the home and the man's place was head of the household, and her.  "It is written in the bible Susan, don't you want to obey the word of God?"

"Wives, be subject to your husbands, as to the Lord. 

For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the 

head of the church, his body, and is himself its Savior. 

As the church is subject to Christ, so let wives also be subject in everything 

to their husbands” (Eph. 5:22–24)."

Blind faith is how monsters are not only made, but how they can flourish in plain sight.



So where and why does this fit into what I wanted to talk about today?  Because blind faith is not just about religion.   It can be about any movement, group, shared belief system.



When I began to become interested in politics and feminism, the left side of politics seemed like the perfect fit for me.   The "morally right"  The good.  The just. There was a general assumption that the liberal position was the good and anything to the right was wrong.  There was only one choice for me, clearly.



So too with feminism.   I wanted rights and equality for women.  As I learned about feminism I also educated myself about intersectional feminism, named to include woman of all races, ethnicities, class, culture, age etc.  I wanted that.



So there I was, a left leaning intersectional feminist when one day, I saw a man winning a women's cycling competition. A man who identified as a woman but not only identified, said he was an actual, biological woman.



From there my fall down the rabbit hole was swift.  Suddenly, a man with a beard who wore skirts and had decided he was a lesbian, was a real woman.  One who went into schools for Stonewall teaching children they could be born in the wrong body.  Listen to Magdelen Burns about that one.

Lesbians who didn't accept "lady dick" were transphobic.

Talking about being pregnant and giving birth was transphobic because it didn't include transwomen.  Having a women only group on Facebook talking about menopause was transphobic.  Men's mental health groups were disbanded because they would not include transmen.  Women meeting to discuss women's rights were transphobic.  Refuges should accept transwomen, or they would lose their funding (again this year too).  I could go on and on and on and on.



Every FUCKING thing that did not place men identifying as women front and centre, became transphobic.



We were told that words were actual violence.  That we were killing people by saying the immutable fact that you cannot change sex.  A woman lost her job for saying this.  Told that her views were "not worthy of respect in a democratic society".



Children as young as FOUR being referred to a gender clinic.  Teenagers being prescribed puberty blockers like they were sweets.  4500% rise in referrals to Tavistock.  Three quarters of those being girls.



The rabbit hole is so deep you could drown in it.



The world went mad before our eyes.  Yet people, including myself, who questioned this idealogy, were called bigots.  That anything other than the ultra left view was right wing. We were not worthy of being called feminists.  We were TERFs.  What the ACTUAL FUCK???



Where did the left go so wrong, so fast?  Moreover, why the hell have so many fallen for the indoctrination?  Why are doctors now scared to question if a child is transgender?  Why have politicians fallen hook, line and sinker for this?  Lisa Nandy saying that transwomen who rape women belong in women's prisons because they identify as women.  This article goes a long way to explain that.



So where do liberal feminist women who have been thrown out of the left, thrown out of what is now called feminism do?  We fight.

We organise.  We educate.  We agitate.