Julia Wilkinson Art
Tranquil Views of Hope
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Artblog - me

My childhood was not too unhappy.  About my earliest memory is thinking I had another female baby living in my room - this was probably my twin, though I didn't realise it at the time.  Another early memory was making daisy chains (I love flowers) with other little school friends - it is really my last memory of being accepted as one of the in crowd, accepted by my peers.  

Soon after that I believe I was subjected to ritual satanic abuse, which included my being put in a circle on the ground/having a circle drawn around me, which I believe has resulted in me being exceptionally isolated all the rest of my life.

I didn't like school after that.  I remember about that time asking lots of peers to play jacks with me (a game involving little cubes) - none of them would - I had to play jacks by myself.  My twin probably accounts for why I was so unpopular.

Later I wanted to study art as one of my 'A' levels, but the person known as my mother wouldn't let me, telling me I'd never make any money at it, so I studied other subjects, then, as I wasn't trained so couldn't do art at university, I studied Geography in the School of Biological Sciences at The University of Sussex.

I enjoyed my time there, to some extent.  I enjoyed chatting up men and going out with men; also I liked doing the essays.



'Beloved childhood dog, with a 'V' of flowers' Copyright Julia Wilkinson.

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'Me in Italy' Copyright a man student.

Later I couldn't work in art as I wasn't trained at it, and I strugged to find a job after university as there was a recession.  In the end I ended up working with computers in Lancashire - hated it - left and promptly got a bad back, - in agony for 2 years. 

But then, with help from a church, I got better, and went off to London, to work in publishing, starting by temping.  However, at a party, I believe my drink was spiked with street drugs - afterwards, more or less on a sort of trip, I wrote a long note of rubbish, then later hid it.  I believe it was found and then the gay-outing campaign began.  Passers-by began to call me a lesbian, falsely, and I began the long nightmare which has continued until now.  Eventually this got diagnosed - I believe wrongly - as mental illness and I got put on incredibly strong drugs, which give me terrible side effects.

I continued working and later I studied Landscape Design at The University of Sheffield.  I enjoyed the creative and art side, but struggled, especially with learning about hard landscaping and technicalities.  I remember carrying heavy loads of books and walking up an incredibly steep hill each day in the second year to my home.

However, eventually I got a job as an Assistant Landscape Architect, but struggled due to the difficulty of the job, left after a year, and worked later as an Office Administrator in a Garden Nursery/Landscaping Shop.  I liked the flowers and enjoyed being allowed to be a bit more creative.

Over the years I moved, as a single person, over and over again, to different cities, to work and study.

Various male friends, male partners and my crushes on different men continued, some long-term, but none worked out.  Now I suspect my twin was interfering, probably going out with some of the men, or even scaring one off by stalking him.

Eventually, disappointed over a failed love affair with a male partner, I stopped work.  Reading books by Kenneth Hagin, a late Christian teacher, I read about praying in tongues - he said it gave insights and led to victory.  I read a booklet by Norvel Hayes: 'Why You Should Speak in Tongues' and inspired by that I began praying in tongues with a marathon 3 hour session, determined to find the answer to the problems diagnosed as mental illness - i.e. hearing passers-by falsely calling me a lesbian.  After a number of hours, suddenly the penny dropped - it wasn't mental illness at all - people really did falsely call me a lesbian, and the people who brought me up weren't my parents at all.  Terrified of them, I started staying in hotels, going back occasionally.  I think my food or drink was spiked with chemicals to cause psychosis, and I began hearing whispers in my head - real mental illness.

Eventually I ended up in a mental hospital - but this was a nice mental hospital, where they seemed reasonable, and I recovered.


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'Me in mental hospital' Copyright a male friend patient.

Unfortunately, afterwards I believed I had been wrong about my sudden epiphany about the mental illness. However I began training in art at local art courses and doing a photography correspondence course, and later decided to become a Visual artist.  Another spell in mental hospital occurred, I believe for the same reasons as before, and I recovered again.  

Being ill with psychosis has been described as being like being crucified, and I identify with that.  Its just horrendous.

Later, after recovering, I began doing more praying in tongues, and finally, by 2013, I had really understood that I was right about my thoughts about mental illness.  Prompted by someone's comments, I left the home of the people known as my parents suddenly, where for a time I'd been living, and later moved to a flat, where I live now.

Its only tiddly - a studio flat, a maisonette, in a block of flats, but I like it.  However I've had problems that I believe people illegally get copies of my keys and enter illegally - including my twin and people pretending to be carers and cleaners (I don't have any carers or cleaners), causing big problems.  I think my food/drink was spiked again with chemicals and I ended up in other hospitals, as the first one had been closed.  However these seemed horrible hospitals - I think my twin has been allowed to have some of my meetings at them, and I believe staff lied to me, denied me one of my ward rounds, allowing my twin to go instead.  They forcibly injected me with medication that I was desperate to avoid - I told them I would accept any medication except this one - they insisted on giving me the one I was desperate to avoid.  This unkindness drove me into deep depression for two years, but I recovered by forgiving the psychiatrist who'd done it.

So I've continued making art, which I enjoy, even if it doesn't sell, in general.  I'm still very isolated: I'm single; I've never been married; I live alone in my flat; have few friends and stay in my flat most of the time, almost always by myself.

A lot of people have been nasty to me, but as a believing Christian - although I haven't always been a Christian - I believe I may have failed to do even the basics.  I've been overwhelmed by self-righteous pride, also idolatry of marriage to a man, unforgiveness, laziness, etc.  In fact, I believe my enemies have used these sins of mine - although I'm law-abiding - as a sort of force to ruin the world, through my twin as a lever - so quite possibly all the devastation of the world, world's people, world's environment, Christian Church, all the good things about the world and the OK things - all this devastation may be due to me and my sins.  (Ref: Chaos Theory - i.e. when a butterfly flaps its wings in the Gulf of Mexico it affects big things the other side of the world.)  So in fact I'm worse than my enemies.  So I forgive all my enemies all they've done against me.

And now what?  I'd like to continue making art, continue going towards zero waste etc, looking for a man partner, but although I'm mentally very well, two doctors sectioned me, to go into hospital - to be dragged there totally against my wishes - I believe hospital is totally unnecessary and unjustified for me.

I strongly believe I wasn't sectionable when I saw the doctors, but they sectioned me without telling me, without even telling me I was being assessed for the Mental Health Act.  Mental health services didn't even let me know that two doctors had sectioned me, for three days. And now, although I was told the section papers would lapse after a week, I don't know whether to believe them, as I believe mental health services have regularly lied to me.

I keep saying the same things in different ways, over and over again, but routinely I seem to be disbelieved, by almost everyone who's well-meaning.

I'm mentally very well.  Who else would have written this account?