Letter to Sarah Chilton - updated after The Marsden incident

18th March 2018 

(updated after The Marsden Incident 5 May, 2018)

TODAY is the first anniversary of the night that you protested about my employer: “how dare she text you on a weekend off!”  

Then you dictated my “I don’t appreciate...” text response to my employer, triggering my fight for my job.

Just two weeks later, on April 1^{st  (}fittingly) you sent me a completely deluded email ending our relationship after almost two years.

We made up. The next day you sent me these from your @chilts69 Twitter account:

Sometimes do think it would be better if we bit the bullet and lived together x but not for discussion now I understand x 2 Apr 2017

True love is an amazing emotion and the impact it can have x 2 Apr 2017, 9:33 am

How extremely volatile.

Seven weeks later, on the 19^th of May, you finally abandoned me, without a single word, when I was at the lowest point in my life.

(Just like those people who are sacked by text message or email to howls of outrage from people like you. But you couldn't even manage a text or email).

That’s how much I/our relationship was worth to you

I know these dates well. And these facts are incontrovertible.

You deserted me, leaving me to try and cope alone with an entirely new diabetic regime, continual blood testing - 8/9/10 times a day, continual diabetic hypos and hypers, trying to count carbohydrates and plan food, visits to specialists, Occupational Health doctors, etc. And then came suicidal ideation, worsening anxiety and depression, my first ever terrifying panic attacks (triggered, incidentally by the image of you and my employer, colluding together) and the exhausting battle I fought for my professional life and reputation as my employer sought to destroy me. No doubt she was egged on by you (more later). This is what you left me with, alone.

What a really shitty thing to do, to anyone.

And d'ya know what? One of the hardest things was that you just left Bob behind, who loved you almost as much as i did. That gave me the first shocking insight into your true character.

All the time when I was going through hell, you were bound up in your own feelings. Being the centre of the universe.

Little wonder that I couldn't face confronting your petty, deluded jealousies about Jo.

But what breathtaking selfishness and self-absorption. And so little self-awareness about it.

I am thankful that you, at last, finally deigned to speak to me in February on Valentine's Night.

I am sorry I was so distraught and unable to express myself properly. You must have sighed with relief that I could hardly speak or think straight in my distress.

You were cooking dinner and your kitchen table was laid "for my friend Sharon", you volunteered. For some reason, you felt the need to have a whispered 'phone conversation about your dinner date.. 

At that moment, I couldn't have cared less who your dinner was with - I just wanted to try and make sense of what had happened between us and why. But then later, bizarrely, you apologised for not getting out of your work clothes that night into jeans. Hmmmmmmmmmmmm. I was so stupid.

Anyway, I was in no fit state then to challenge your apparently innocent account of your meeting with my employer. You must have been so relieved, that I didn't press you about it. I didn't have the energy, or the awareness. And tbh, I really wanted to believe that you had not, in fact, betrayed me.

But you did. And you lied to me about it.

I knew instantly from your hysterical, defensive, reaction in December that you had betrayed me. I've had all the horrible details confirmed since.

Two months after you left me without a word and when I was going through horrible torment, you spoke to my employer about me. But you could not say a single word to me who loved you. That was an astonishing betrayal on its own. 

But there was more to it than that. You couldn’t help yourself.

You betrayed me to my employer, out of spiteful, vindictive revenge, when I was fighting for my professional life with her, suffering diabetic hypo after hypo, and suicidal. 

You told my employer, falsely, that I had been 'carrying on' with Jo (a straightforward lie - you could not admit to my employer that you were insanely jealous of that innocent friendship) and that she was helping me with my case. You minimised my physical and mental difficulties, (as you did with me that Valentine's night) - describing them to her as 'all an act." And then, of course, there was 'shoegate.'

What a horrible betrayal. 

You stayed silent for two reasons 1) you had other "interests" by then and couldn't be bothered with me (dismissed) 2) you could neither justify your jealousy, nor your terrible betrayal of me. So you had to lie to me about it. Despicable. 

No doubt, my employer took further encouragement after your 'sisterly' chat and renewed her determination to try and destroy me. Thanks for that. 

Absolutely deranged behaviour. 

It was clear from our February ‘conversation’ that you have absolutely no comprehension of what I have been through as a result of your behaviour. And that you care even less. You are in complete denial about the impact of your actions.

Thankfully, when we met in February you finally abandoned your absurd allegation that I had been “carrying-on" with Jo. At least to me.

Writing this blog had some impact then.  On the doorstep: her face went white. 

I doubt whether you will have either the self-awareness or the humility to withdraw that ridiculous untrue allegation to all the others you have shared it with.

So I was not being unfaithful, you now admit.

It was deliberately dishonest, deceitful and nasty that you should have accused me of 'carrying on' on your doorstep in December. Deliberately hurtful when you actually knew it wasn't true. My account on this blog of that horrible encounter got it right, obviously.

I wish that I'd had the presence of mind to challenge you about it during that 'conversation' in February. I think I was just so grateful that you hadn't thrown another tantrum and started screaming and shouting again. Any challenge would have produced that reaction.

You then admitted that you had denied me any help because you were in a huff with me for asking Jo for help with my case. Just incredible. Love?

What struck me later about our conversation, apart from your icy coldness and studied lack of any emotion, was your abject refusal to take any responsibility for anything. To accept no fault at all. To show no self-awareness. Emotionally immature, as well as care-less. And you had obviously moved on to another.

“Your relationship with Jo was too intimate," you told me.

"What was the intimacy?" I asked through my tears.

"The intimacy was about you sharing everything about your employment case with her,” was your explanation for suddenly ending our relationship.

You said this as if it was the most reasonable thing in the world. No self-awareness at all.

I should have walked out at that point. Rational thought was clearly beyond you. I could only shake my head in disbelief. I was just paralysed by the craziness of it all.

But I’m now clear that, you ended our relationship, after almost two years, because I sought advice about the battle for my professional career, from an ex who was still a friend, who knew her stuff.

That’s worth repeating: 

You ended our relationship, after almost two years, because I sought advice about the battle for my professional career, from a woman friend.

That means: 

You have since caused irreparable damage to another human being because of your jealousy, insecurity and ruthlessness. Terrible. 

Yours was a wild, hysterical over-reaction. Jealousy gone mad.

Did you not recognise that Jo, having gone through an industrial tribunal process already, might be able to offer me some practical employment help when I needed it?

Even you must now recognise that your hysterical reaction was slightly 'unusual', to say the least. Probably not.

So in May you returned my house keys in a by-now familiar temper tantrum and presumably expected me to come traipsing up to your home in Marsden to see you. As I had previously done, after yet another tantrum from you. 

You actually stood there in February, hands on hips and told me: "well, you were in no rush to come up here after me, where you?"

That stunning self-absorption again. There was me, fighting for my job, my health and, yes, my life and you expect me to come after you? Incredible.

Amazingly, I meekly tried to explain this, but that was not good enough for you. Never would be.

I was exhausted by it all - your repeated tantrums, your jealousy, your insecurity, my battle for my job, my out of control diabetes, my worsening depression and anxiety. 

You would have only stood with your hands on your hips, pouting haughtily at me again, and defiantly demanding that I seek no further help from anyone but you. No empathy, no support, no love at all - it was all about you, again. Shocking really.

When I needed you most, you were not there. You were instead waiting for me to turn up in Marsden and beg you to love me, to come back, to help me.

That astonishing sense of entitlement, again.   

You've never been held to account for your actions like this before have you? No-one has ever challenged your behaviour when you have just flounced off from relationships? Being 'a strong woman'.

Your parents, obviously, have never challenged, never questioned your behaviour, never told you off about anything. Agreeing with everything you do. Like a spoilt child. 

And you are shocked and astonished that someone, anyone, could ever challenge or even question your behaviour like this. (They must be mentally ill - nothing at all to do with your own mental behaviour, of course...)

Given this extraordinary, abnormal, irrational behaviour, you must, at 49, by now be accustomed to suddenly ending relationships like this.  I expect you have got used to it - it's as though you expect things to go wrong (the legacy of you being jilted, tragically). 

So you get your revenge in first.

Then you delude yourself that running away is you being 'a strong woman', when in fact it is the exact opposite. 

And then you quickly start new relationships, as you did with me. Because you are so insecure that you demand constant, continual, physical and emotional attention and validation. My daughter even observed this after just a few meetings with you. She knew our relationship would never last, because she recognised something was very wrong with you. Pity I didn't. 

You didn’t desert me because you were concerned for my health and well-being, quite the opposite. Your own irrational, pathological and petty jealousy, your own insecurity - and your absolute inability to control your tantrums - came first.

I now understand that you must have inherited this behaviour from your father, who is demonstrably prone to wild, abusive, threatening, violent, out-of-control behaviour. You will never recognise this, of course...But that's what it was from him.

Impossible for you to accept this, isn't it? 

You denigrated Jo throughout our relationship, repeatedly slagging her off both personally and professionally (another lie) because of your deep insecurity. Horrible. Nasty. This was a woman who had been a friend of yours, who you had once phoned in a panic to ask for her help because you didn't know how to manage spreadsheets. And a woman friend who you had met regularly for coffee in the Town Hall. Then you turn on her because of your insane jealousy. Then you completely deluded yourself about her at the Dan Jarvis meeting, accusing her of ignoring you. I saw what really happened. I knew you were deluding yourself then. But I, wrongly, chose to ignore it. 

There was more of course, which I should have seen at the time, but failed to do so.

Your utter contempt for 'fat people' as you described them - the very people who ABL Health were working with. If only they knew. Shocking hypocrisy.

Your constant complaining about your senior colleagues at ABL - Nick, Sheena, Denise, and even your own staff. No loyalty at all.

Then your baffling declaration of vengeance on Chris Oxborrow. The End.

And constantly using me to turn your company reports into literate English, because you couldn't write.

Then your glee at hoodwinking the gullible into believing that ABL Health was a social enterprise, when in truth, any profit went straight into the Director's pockets.

You took particular pleasure in deceiving Andy Burnham, when he was MP for Leigh, into supporting one of your projects. Unbelievable dishonesty.

And all tell-tale signs of your true, nasty, two-faced character. Which I should have recognised, but didn't.

What strikes me above all is how dismissive you were. About everyone. I can't think of a single person who you weren't dismissive about. As though none of them mattered. Of course, that's what you did to me, finally. Simply dismissed. He doesn't matter. Not worth it.

You have an extraordinary sense of superiority and entitlement. You are the only person that matters. Me, me, me, again. Psychotic. Even your bizarre, defensive, "Let me tell YOU, I'm a strong woman" outburst in December points to this. You said this to me too after your deluded email on April 1st.

"If it's over, I can accept that, I'm a strong woman," you told me. I wondered what on earth you were on about. Deluded.

You initially tried to imply in our 'conversation' in February that I had been somehow ‘faking’ my depression and anxiety. More self-delusion. It was all an act, was it? The previous April, I told you I had felt like driving my car head-on into the traffic, after my second doctor’s appointment. To which your empathic response was merely: “I thought as much.” No understanding, no help, no support. Because it wasn't about you.

In February, you mentioned your father and sister’s depression in our 'conversation'. Only you know why, with that apparent ‘knowledge’, you weren’t able to show me any compassion or understanding.

The savage irony of course is that, in the end, it was you who was unfaithful to me.

And I know that you were dishonest with me. You knew about Twitter and my Jack Marsden account then, but chose to ignore it. Even though I appealed to you that February night to tell me the truth.

Then you lied to me again. As you have since lied repeatedly to the police. It seems to come very easily to you.

You ranted and raved at me on your doorstep in December 2017, when I asked how you could betray me. This was your defence mechanism. Your justification for betraying me: First your "carrying on" delusion, then you told me: "you have destroyed my life". 

Therefore you were perfectly entitled to wreak revenge on me - and betray me. Totally deluded. 

As I stood helplessly on your doorstep while you ranted away uncontrollably I literally wanted to kill myself. Then you ran away - cowardly again, presumably because you couldn't stand being confronted about your sickening betrayal and delusions. Like a petulant child.

Only children believe the world revolves around them. Then they grow up and become more understanding. But you still think the world revolves around you - that psychotic, extraordinary sense of entitlement again...

And then you lied later to the police about that December night - covering up your own behaviour again.

What does any of this tell you about yourself? Anything?

When you were finally almost compelled to speak in February after my third suicide attempt virtually on your doorstep in January, you demonstrated a complete lack of concern and tangible disinterest about what had happened to me.

“I don’t mean to be dismissive”, you repeated several times. But, of course, you were.

“The police told me not to be on my own that night,” you repeated several times, after I had posted the url for this blog through your door and wrote on it simply: "too much pain."

I drove away and took a massive insulin overdose on the moors near your home. I wanted to end all that horrible pain. But you were more bothered about having to stay the night with your parents down the road, or with your new boyfriend.

Me, me, me, again.

Not once during that terrible February conversation did you ask what had happened to me that night - the stupid policeman returning the url to my car and ignoring my empty insulin pen on the passenger seat as I lapsed into unconsciousness, then the emergency ambulance, the terrible, vicious hypo, the two-man police guard in that horrible, disgracefully-run hospital for 48 hours, etc, etc. But you couldn't be bothered asking about any of it. Nothing to do with you. Avoiding any responsibility, again.

“Well, you’re still here,” you said to me, smiling about my three suicide attempts. Smiling? My God. What a bizarre reaction.

You didn't want to hear any of the details - because that would have brought it too close to home, wouldn't it? Too close to your own front door.

But how blasé and dismissive of you. No sense of responsibility, again. No compassion. No understanding. Too busy complaining about how you spent the night.

Me, me, me, again.

You never take responsibility for your own actions and their impact on either yourself or on other people. Instead you behave like a spoilt, naughty child - 'it's nothing to do with me.'

Then bizarrely that February, as I sobbed in distress, you told me your cat had died, then about your mother's hip operation and finally you obsessed about the jeans and trainers I was wearing. Extraordinary.

Even more bizarrely - I tried to explain about the situation I faced when you ran away: my depression/suicidal ideation; my job battle; my out of control diabetes. "I have a chronic condition, unlike you" I said. To which your bizarre response was: "I don't have a chronic condition yet." An astonishing reaction, as though saying that gave you an excuse not to recognise my condition. Really twisted, perverted thinking.

We both should have known when you abandoned me the first night we ever spent together two years earlier when I was in the middle of a diabetic hypo, not making any sense at all and clearly unwell.

“No-one’s ever treated me like that before,” you complained on the phone later, being the centre of the universe, after running away to your parents. Me, again.

I could not speak because of the hypo, couldn't move except to stroke you. Couldn't function in any way. but your response? "No-one's ever treated me like that before."

No-one had ever abandoned me like that before, either. It's a wonder I didn't end up in a coma with no-one to help me. But it was all about you, again.

(I have to smile grimly now about you searching for my insulin pen during our 'conversation' in February, when what I needed was not insulin, but any kind of sustenance. And you a so-called 'health professional'?

(You showed a complete lack of any kind of understanding, care or compassion about the impact of diabetes on my health, again. God help your ABL clients.

(I was grateful for the glass of water you proffered - even though you were anxious to get rid of me as quickly as possible, for fairly obvious reasons.)

Throughout our relationship,  You threw childish tantrums - in Dunelm Mill; in Marsden; at the Liverpool Conference; at Jo having a cup of tea with me; even when you were shopping for the watch I bought – (the £600 one that I bought for you at Christmas just three months before you deserted me and which you later ungratefully complained was not inscribed?)

You can post it back to me in another scruffy brown envelope, since it’s only a terrible reminder of our worthless relationship. Why won't you just do that? I could do with the money. It means nothing to you, obviously. Or are you just being mercenary? Or you've pawned it, already. Sick.

You must have a box of stuff from previous men, in your attic.

Drama after drama, after drama. You threw another massive tantrum when you returned my keys, and then finally, you threw the ultimate paddy when you met my employer and sought your revenge against me. A nasty, wild, lashing out at me who had done you no harm at all - I had done nothing wrong. Then the hysteria in December on your doorstep. Then last May in Marsden.

I had done nothing wrong to you. Absolutely nothing. None of it was my fault.

Every last, single, trace of your presence in my life has now been returned to you. I don't want anything that reminds me of you - it's all so nasty, so horrible.

Being with you was the worst mistake I have ever made in my life.

All my memories are of your horrible behaviour - so I am ridding myself of all of those memories. The turntable, the dressing gown, the blue socks, the white shorts, the noticeboard, the Cath Kidston plastic bag holder, the KY jelly, the Mont Blanc pen, the Springsteen in Manchester cd, your sunglasses, the harassment warning, all that horrible police stuff.  I want nothing to do with you. Literally.

And they are all rather pathetic and meaningless now, wouldn't you say?

But do you ever think you have done anything wrong? Anything harmful? Anything painful? Anything nasty? No?

You have caused absolute chaos in my life, absolute despair, absolute horror.

But you won't recognise any of this. Nor accept any responsibility.

Remember the night you continually goaded me for attention when I was exhausted and wanted to sleep, forcing me to retreat into my spare room? And then the horror I felt, when you pursued me there, physically pushing me again and again and again, almost to breaking point. And all because you wanted my attention and to be validated. No thought for me or my health and welfare. Shameful. Some people would describe that terrifying incident as straightforward Domestic Abuse.

There’s a consistent pattern of behaviour here. The tantrums, the lack of control, the jealousy (and you had the bare-faced cheek to insist during our February 'conversation': "I'm not jealous of anyone, I'm not a Princess". No self-awareness again.)

You must have behaved just like this with all those other men before me. No wonder none of them lasted. No doubt you will do the same with all those who have followed me too. This is your life script.

I do wonder how many of your relationships have ended after you simply threw a tantrum? 

This one had terrible consequences for me. 

You could not hide your horrible little smirk of self-satisfaction during our February 'conversation' in response to me asking, on this blog, whether you would ever find someone else. 

The smug smirk said: "I can have any man I want. " No wonder you were smirking on Valentine's Night.

But my question was 'will any of these men last?' And will you ever learn some self-control, some understanding of yourself and others, and some empathy for anyone else? Will you ever know real, selfless, supportive love for someone else?

I think not. Partly because of your spoilt upbringing; partly because you were jilted; partly because of what appears to be your psychopathic character; and ironically, because you have never had children yourself - and never will. You have never learned how to put anyone first before yourself. It's an alien concept to you. What matters is only how you feel. Events, of course, bear this out.

As for this blog, your pre-occupation when we spoke in February was, again, absolutely consistently, only with what I had written about you.  "I'm not a Princess, I'm not jealous of anyone," you proclaimed. 

My story and my feelings obviously did not matter. Only what I had written about you, anonymously, without using your name.

Not a word from you about what had happened to me and what I had written about - my breakdown, attempted suicides, stay on a mental health unit, my diabetes, losing my job, etc, etc. Although you knew all this by then.

No interest, no compassion, no understanding. Dismissed, because I don't matter. I'm worthless. Thank you.

I was struck too by your verdict that you thought what I had written anonymously, showed I “was not well.” Yet even though you knew that I was suffering in constant torture, you could not pick up the phone to me. Care-less.

And you were already trapped by your  betrayal of me. You could have easily re-assured me that you had not betrayed me to my employer. We know one reason, at least, why you didn’t. Guilt. 

I'll leave you to cope with the shame - if you ever feel it. I feel desperately sorry for you at times because of the horrible pain you have created for another human being, but then I remember your hard, twisted face in The Marsden Incident in May (it's coming, don't worry). And then calling the police, when I had done nothing wrong. But you don't care about any of it.

Your continual cowardly silence speaks volumes. You have no defence for betraying me. Or abandoning me. You knew in February that I had attempted suicide in August and twice in January as a result of your behaviour and still you did nothing. It wouldn't have taken much effort, but you couldn't summon up the strength. Shamefully care-less. Weak, not strong.

But then, you did not have the strength or the compassion to pick up the phone throughout the previous months, even when you knew I was struggling with my diabetes, fighting for my career and trying to cope with worsening depression and anxiety.

When I asked why you hadn't just rung me up once through those terrible months to ask how I was, you replied:“the relationship was too passionate, it wasn’t that kind of relationship”.

That's a really lame, bizarre attempt at some kind of justification. 

The truth is you couldn't make any contact because you had already betrayed me to my employer. Your childish running away, silence and spoilt behaviour is just about understandable in that context.  You couldn't behave like an adult for once, because you had already exacted your horrible 'revenge' on me, who had done you no harm at all.

And anyway, you had a new male "interest" by then.

And anyway, it was all about YOU, not me.

Sarah Chilton, ABL Health

  
All during that summer, I was hoping against hope that you would break your sullen, sulking silence and give me some help, some support, some love when I really needed it. In vain, of course.
                             

You showed no capacity for empathy, care or understanding, until finally, finally confronted with the terrible consequences of your own behaviour.

In January, I try to kill myself for the third time with a massive insulin overdose, to try and kill all the pain I felt, virtually on your doorstep. 

But it was only on February 14, when I almost got down on my knees and appealed to you to speak to me, did you finally deign to do so. That 'conversation' was at my instigation, of course. Not yours. Care-less.

I despair of you, I really do. Almost inhuman - and no-one would believe it looking at the photo above would they? Butter wouldn't melt. How looks can deceive.

How twisted. Especially for someone working in a supposedly 'caring' environment for a  supposedly 'caring' private company.

Are you proud of this? The damage, hurt and pain your actions have caused to another human being who had done you no wrong? Really? This is you being 'a strong woman'? How perverted.

Your behaviour has almost caused my death, more than once - will you ever understand that?

No. Try to think about it. But of course you won't - dismissively care-less, again.

Anyway, the facts are indisputable. And some conclusions follow – you will ignore these too.

This is the truth. Our relationship was only ever all about you. You could never put me, my health or well-being first.  

You appear totally incapable of considering anyone but yourself and your own feelings, like a spoilt child. Or a psychopath.

And you never cared for me, by any objective definition.

When more of my attention was focused on saving my professional career and both my worsening physical and mental health, you simply could not accept that. Because it wasn’t about YOU.

Your confession of a previous affair with a married man fits the pattern. "It didn't last very long," you told me ages ago. 

Not because of some sudden moral conscience, but because he wasn't able to give you the constant attention you demanded. 

And then you had the hypocrisy to condemn the morality of others!

Dr Jack Leach - another relationship ended, and all because he wanted to see his grandson at Xmas.

You certainly didn't love me 'from the bottom of your heart", as you claimed on February 14. These things roll easily off your tongue, don't they? Another psychopathic characteristic. If you had loved me truly, you wouldn't have behaved the way you did. It's that simple. Your petty jealousy, insecurity and temper took over.

And your 'heartache' didn't last very long either. In October, after your betrayal, you were admiringly tweeting @PaulZanon1972 about his figure, with a kiss. Calling him 'Mr Z' as you used to call me 'Mr F'. (Presumably we are all interchangeable - was he the next to get a Cafe Nero invitation, or was it lunch?).

In real life, you would have been doing much more than this, obviously.  I will never know the details, thank God.

At the time when you were flirting with other men, I was battling to recover from two awful weeks on a mental health unit after my first suicide attempt, and desperately trying to make some kind of sense of your behaviour; struggling with depression and anxiety; coping with the sack, unemployment and no money; taking my employer to an industrial tribunal, as well as still trying to control my diabetes.

The next month, the coup de gras was administered, when I was told about your betrayal. The shock was terrible. And then you verbally attack me on your doorstep in December.

My sad conclusion is that you don't know the meaning of the word 'love' - your reckless, ruthless, horrible behaviour and your abandonment of me all too graphically illustrates that.

Your behaviour shows someone who is brutally hard and cold, selfish, cruel and callous, and uncaring - despite all your regular emotional spasms and tantrums. And the out-of-control explosions (like father, like daughter).

You told me in February: “no-one has ever spoken to me like that”, citing the time I shouted at you when you were flooding my cellar. Just an everyday domestic incident, which you tried to use as belated 'evidence' against me. Constructing your justification for deserting me. Pathetic really.

It was a common refrain of yours: "no-one has ever spoken to me like that". Who the fuck do you think you are? Euro MP Gary Titley was correct when he warned that you were 'a prima donna'. And a spoilt brat. Such self-centredness.

A total has-been/never was, politically, but still desperately trading on your past Labour Party contacts and your trips to China, etc with another Euro MP who no-one has ever heard of; then non-jobs for non-organisations; then ABL Health - happily masquerading as an ethical employer.

I guess your promotion to Director of External Affairs will have fuelled your self-centredness and self-delusions. Me, me, me again. I'm the only one that matters. No doubt.

You will love trying to rub shoulders with the great and the good at the conferences and receptions, wont you? Kissing people on both cheeks with those fake pursed lips, (just as you did with Angela, before then slagging her off. I shuddered every time I saw it. Such a phoney); then squeezing their arms to show how much you agree with them and how lovely you are, trying to charm your way into contracts. Or something else.

Except, the penny will soon drop. You are all fur coat and no knickers. Shallow. No substance, no depth, just me, me, me. Horrible.

Bitter? You bet I am. Angry? No. Fucking furious, because you conned me, like you seem to con everyone else.

But the reckoning may come. One day.

And you have made me do this. Write this blog.

Your care-lessness, heartlessness, the lack of understanding, etc, etc, etc.

What you sew, so shall you reap.

It would make a good subject for a half-decent novel, don'tcha think?. What should we call it? "Betrayal" is the obvious choice.

Maybe at times, I did lose my temper with you. And maybe that was also understandable at times. Because of your utter madness.

No-one ever shouted at you, or challenged you, or disciplined you, because everyone - especially your parents - have always allowed you to stamp your feet like a spoilt child and get away with it. And they adored you - they could see no wrong in you. And people were frightened, as I was, of saying anything which would provoke another hissy fit and tantrum from you. They didn’t dare challenge or question you.

You can be satisfied, probably pleased with yourself now, with the lasting damage that you have done to me; the awful shock, the repeated suicide attempts, the heartbreak, suffering and unremitting pain you have caused through your lack of care, jealousy and selfishness. And not an ounce of remorse from you. Not an ounce.

You should be ashamed of yourself - but that would involve some self-awareness.

The Marsden incident

"Are you trying to intimidate me?" were your last words to me in May after you flagged my car down, your hands on your hips, adopting that now familiar, dreadful, deluded, dismissive "I'm a strong woman" pout.

Er, your mad father had just attacked my car as I was driving away from Marsden and he was raving away like a lunatic. As some other bloke looked on in astonishment, you were struggling violently with your father in the middle of the road, for God's sake. You think this is normal behaviour?

Or had you, somehow, forgotten to tell your father (and others) that I was NOT 'carrying on' and it was all a delusion? Maybe you even forgot to tell him how you had betrayed me.

But again, my presence in Marsden can only have been all about you.

You have absolutely no idea at all about the terrible hurt and pain you have caused me, do you?  Not an ounce of comprehension.

Your house was already well behind me, you idiot.

I was on my way home, I had done what I came to do - see Marsden one last time and the places that 'we' had shared as a couple. Call me sentimental and stupid. I am.

I knew that Sharon your 'spy' would tell you she had seen me that morning, walking Bob along the canal. (You do realise that she is using you? Agreeing with you about everything, because she is desperately lonely? She wants to keep you to herself.)

I did wonder when I saw her, if you would come walking down to the canal cafe so we could have one last, final, proper, civilised conversation. But you couldn't or wouldn't, of course, because you would have had to face up to what you had done and the damage you had caused. And I didn't matter at all.

So I was driving on my way home, a mile past your house - I never even looked at your home, I knew it was all pointless - and then your father, coming along the lane in the opposite direction, went mad. Reversing his car towards mine, gesticulating wildly. I thought at first there must have been an accident in front of his car. That's why I came round again. To see what had happened.  I was worried that something awful had happened on your lane. I didn't even know it was your father's car, until I then saw him standing in the middle of the road struggling with you, raving away like a deranged lunatic. Another bloke with you, looking on, astonished.

But for Sharon your spy, you would never have even known I had been in Marsden if your father had not gone completely out of control. I would have been long gone. But he was ranting and raving, struggling violently with you, attacking my car.

And I had done nothing wrong except pay one last final visit to your village. I had taken some photographs of Marsden, bought a plant for my garden, visited the second-hand shops we used to go to. Sentimental and stupid of me, I know.

But I now see where you get the tantrums from.

Absolutely no awareness, no understanding - and certainly no compassion.

You complained to the police about my presence in Marsden, accusing me of running my car directly at you. Another terrible lie. I did nothing of the sort, of course. They obviously knew you were lying, or they would have charged me. Didn't even ask me about it.

I should have stopped my car and asked your father what his problem was? I thought you were 'a strong woman? What did he have to complain about, eh?

But your hero wasn't capable of articulating anything remotely sensible, or rational. Just like you. He actually attacked my car! He was violent and out of control.

And then, for some reason, you ran after my car and beckoned me to stop.

I stopped. I hoped against hope that at that point you would understand something of why I was there and the torture I had suffered because of your ignorance and silence.

But no.

You were just horrible. vile behaviour. Then you told me triumphantly: "I've called the police" and then, pointing to your phone, "I've got you on tape", when I had only stopped because you had beckoned me to do so.

I am glad that my last words to you as you turned and stomped away like a guilty child, were that you were "a nasty, vindictive bitch", because it's the truth. You hesitated and half-turned back. Then you remembered your own nasty, vindictive betrayal of me. You had nowhere to go except to run away.

Here's the thing: you think you have been the victim in all this don't you? Both then - and now. Astonishing.

But every time I have seen you, the scales have fallen a little further from my eyes. I saw the hatred and contempt in your twisted face the third and final time that day in Marsden.

Just nasty, vindictive, uncaring, zero understanding.

No doubt, you will entertain all the future men and some women (not just Sharon, who previously only irritated you) with stories about me.

Hopefully some will have the presence of mind to ponder why this ever happened?

How you could drive someone who loved you, literally mad with disappointment, distress and disbelief.

Have you never wondered why, as a middle-aged woman nearing 50, who some consider reasonably intelligent and still attractive, that you have never married, never had children, never, ever, been in a successful long-term relationship?  Something slightly unusual for a woman of your age.

None of these men were good enough for you? Or asked you? That, in itself, is revealing.

I know you were sadly jilted years ago and I am sorry that ever happened to you and that it made you see betrayal all around you, fuelling your jealousy, insecurity, suspicion and lack of trust.

You complained about another former relationship, with  Jack Leach, to me subsequently and to anyone at your former employer, ADS who would listen, for wanting to see his grandchild at Christmas. “He was supposed to be with me!” you insisted. "I felt like a mistress". Ridiculous. But me, me, me, again. Your colleagues at ADS tried to reason with you, to no avail. They still talk about it - they call you a 'mad woman.'

You must know you had an awful reputation at ADS as a “bunny boiler.” It’s a horrible expression, but why do you think your former colleagues say that about you? Anything to do with your own behaviour?  

You lied again to the police later and said I had described you as a bunny boiler. But I didn't. Others do.

There were other men, of course. But none of them lasted. None of them married you. Why do you think that is?

A confession: I always hesitated about sharing a house/marrying you because I was scared of those fits of temper and tantrums exploding again without any warning - and everything in my life then collapsing in ruins. Me losing my house to you. 

Instead I lost my mind.

Everything did collapse in ruins at the first whiff of gunshot from my employer a year ago, when you deserted me almost immediately, even though you caused much of that battle.

Thank God I hadn't married or moved in with you, even though I loved you so much. I would have lost everything.

I genuinely believed you were different. Amazingly, now, I thought you were my soul mate. And, despite it all, I could easily have married you, if only you could contain the childish tantrums, the irrational jealousy, and the vile temper. And behave like a rational, grown-up. But it is beyond you, as you have continually demonstrated.

You have been the biggest disappointment of my life, because I expected/hoped for so much more,  from you. Whither those trumpeted "always Labour" values on your @chilts69 'giggly person' Twitter profile? Sickening hypocrisy. And childish, again.

Now you have blocked me. So you can block it all out, pretend it never happened - first abandoning me, then betraying me, then all the rest.

I blame myself for making such a poor judgement about you. I guess that all the other men have initially made the same mistake, before eventually seeing behind the exterior. I guess your future 'husband' who jilted you, must have seen something very wrong in you too - thank God it was not too late for him.

But it was for me.

I should have heeded Euro MP Gary Titley's perceptive warning about you many, many years ago: “she’s a bit of a nutter. A real prima donna.” I never dared tell you what he had said about you. It’s obvious why.

Another confession: It was his deadly serious warning which still resonated in my head and why I delayed so long in responding to your invitation to meet for coffee on that August Bank Holiday three years ago now. I kept on thinking "but she's a nutter". I should have been stronger.

Meeting you in Cafe Nero, was the biggest mistake I have ever made in my life. 

It is ironic that, exactly two years later, I was on a mental health ward recovering from a suicide attempt because of the torture you had put me through since your abandonment of me.

You don't believe this do you? Don't think you had anything to do with it, at all? Carry on with your delusions, it's better than the grim reality.

How do you think any of this ever happened? I've suddenly got disastrous mental health? Nothing to do with you, and your behaviour, of course.

I never fully realised until now how horribly manipulative you are - lining up lunch first that same day in 2015 with some other bloke to 'try him out', before coffee with me in the afternoon. You should have gone off with him. Then playing the 'damsel in distress' because you had something 'wrong' with your car. As if. Giving me a lift home. Then you jumped into my bed. This is how you operate. Manipulative, calculating, controlling. You actually laughed about your lunch date later. Psychotic.

Your final dismissive comment to me in our 'conversation' in February 2018: “Well, lots of things in life could have been avoided,” was a really shocking, heartless, verbal shrug of the shoulders at my suicide attempts, posing as something profound.  

Care-less. Three suicide attempts? A smile. Then, in your head: "Nothing to do with me. Not my problem. Not my responsibility. I did nothing wrong. I’m fine - you’re the one who is: “not well”.

Psychotic. But you have caused all this. It was your terrible, irrational behaviour that drove me mad.

Because you are:

•         Hard, not strong
• ·         Insanely jealous and vindictive
• ·         Selfish
• ·         Callous - despite all the lovey-dovey exterior 
• ·         Insensitive and cold (as above)
• Ignorant
• Cowardly
• Uncaring
• ·         Self-deluded
• ·         Failing to accept any responsibility for your actions. Like a child.
• ·         And your absolute certainty that you did absolutely nothing wrong.

There's enough evidence of all these. Yours has been really contemptible behaviour.

Any hint of Empathy, or Understanding? No, just me, me, me.

The pity is that you will see absolutely nothing wrong with anything that you have done or failed to do. 

Goodness.

Zero self-awareness. And you will never change as a result.

Surprisingly, it is only now, despite the mass of terrible evidence, that I have fully realised how rotten your heart is. How much malice, delusion, vindictiveness, jealousy and ruthlessness you have stored in it.

I pity your twisted mind. It does seem psychotic.

I partly blame you after being jilted all those years ago. No-one can do anything about that now. You could. But won't.

I have already wasted too much of my life on you because, remarkably, despite it all, I did love you with all my heart. 

I gave you everything I had - you gave me cruel torture in return.

Why am I pouring my heart out like this?

This letter is simply a reminder of just some of the terrible damage and harm you have done to me, but you will not read it and just shrug your shoulders, again. Just another bloke.

But sadly, it's the horrible, awful, truth about you. And I need to write this story. That's because I still do find your behaviour absolutely shocking. A disgrace to womanhood. I have been totally traumatised by the experience, at your hands. This letter is just filling the awful void, the care-less vacuum that you left by your sullen, childish silence.

I need to cleanse my soul of you and every ugly stain of your shocking, horrible, careless, appallingly selfish and self-obsessed behaviour.

Your delusions, your desertion and your horrible betrayal has brought everything crashing down on my head - and in a way, it has eventually come crashing down on you too now. 

So how's that approach worked out for you then, eh? 

You think you have handled any of this at all well? 

Any self-awareness? Nope. You will never learn. Or change.

I was obviously just another bloke (jilted backstory again). 

You can't be bothered. Plenty more fish, etc. And of course, you couldn't even write about it, (as the deluded, almost illiterate, April 1st email amply demonstrates) - and you would find it impossible to argue with what I have written.

You have no insight. No self-awareness. No understanding. And you simply cannot face up to the truth about yourself. As your parents obviously cannot, either. 

(Presumably your father couldn't face up to other people's 'bunny boiler'; 'bit of a nutter' verdicts in the first version of this letter; the childless, single, middle-aged woman; your abandonment and foul betrayal, to name just a few. Or maybe it was the litany of your true, horrible characteristics. Not his Princess - not 'our Sarah'!) 

But all true.

Sometimes he must secretly wonder to himself (when he is calm): "why has our Sarah never found a man to keep? She's intelligent and attractive. She would make a great catch for someone." 

Presumably, you think 'well, none of them were good enough." On to the next.

But I was good enough. Far too good for you. How did I ever put up with it all from you - such madness, such temper, such insecurity, such jealousy? Even though I loved you from the bottom of my heart. That was never good enough.

If only people could see you for real. If only they could look at the evidence. If only you could.

But being a prima donna, you couldn’t care less. No compassion, care or understanding. "It's not me - it's him".

My daughter says you are a "psycho". Perhaps you truly are a psychopath, you seem to have all the classic characteristics. The End. Certainly your behaviour has been seriously abnormal. I always believed, when we were together, that you would benefit from some therapy. I suggested this on our way to Sheffield when you were going through all your insecurities, once again. Your response: "no-one has ever spoken to me like that before". I'm even more convinced now, of course, that you need professional help. These things don't happen for no apparent reason, you idiot.  But you won't have the guts or self-awareness. Such a terrible pity.

Your dismissive, awful treatment of me has had such a devastating impact that I will never recover. The betrayal is only one part of it.

The abandonment is far, far worse. Then your father's madness. Your nastiness and vindictiveness complaining to the police that I had visited Marsden. I should have complained about your father's aggressive, threatening, violent behaviour. I'm sorry I didn't now. The police, arresting me out of the blue at 4 am two months later, finger-printed, photographed, dna'd, 12 hours in a police cell, then interviewed about 'harassment', because I paid a last visit to Marsden, they said. Then finally cautioned. What an horrific ordeal you put me through, to add to it all. Didn't you think I had suffered enough? No, it was still all about YOU. I guess you are pleased about doing this.

And all because I wouldn't just walk away, as the other men have presumably done. Truth is, I didn't want to give up on you. What a fool I was to think you could be redeemed.

The police showed far more empathy to me than you ever did. They understood - and began to see you in a true light. They gasped out loud, as I went through the litany of horrible events. But you were the victim, not me.

You have, in fact, destroyed me and my life. Not the other way round as you claimed in your horrible tirade last December.

You have permanently damaged my physical and mental health and well-being since you ran away. While you just 'carry on' (forgive the pun) as though nothing ever happened. Because nothing about me mattered to you.

The hurt and pain you have inflicted has destroyed me and everything about me. I am no longer the man I was.

'Serves him right' - you will shrug your shoulders, again. Just another bloke. Dismissed.

So happy anniversary. Thanks for starting it all. The worst 18 months of my life. 

NB: And do not mistake this letter for revenge. I've seen enough of the damage caused by you with that particular emotion. I have written this because I was never able to tell you the truth, since you refuse to hear it. I need to tell the truth about you, now, somehow. 

I have no other vehicle apart from writing this blog, so ironically, you have brought it on yourself. You reap what you sew.

I make no apology for being honest and telling the truth. I have just been able to find the words that you never could and never would. Couldn't be bothered - not worth it.

This is me, metaphorically returning your keys in a scruffy brown envelope - not nice, is it? But this is what you have caused. You have made my life an utter misery. You must be proud of yourself.

I'm just telling you the truth.