What I’ve Seen in This New Landscape of freeloading parasites … is how Harassment has changed shape. It no longer shouts from the street or knocks on the door. it creeps in and It slips into the spaces where we work, create, and try to build a private or public life.

I’ve learned this firsthand. There is a new kind of loiterer now—the digital saboteur—the coward who watches not to support, but to unsettle. Someone who treats a working person’s livelihood as entertainment. They hover at the edges of your business, your associations, your peace. They don’t see the human being behind the work. They see a target, a stage, a place to project their own dissatisfaction and lack of emotional progress. A mind virus.

What Experience Has Taught Me About Their Pattern

My work has never been “just work.” It’s been survival, legacy, and a way of keeping my heart open in a world that often rewards the opposite. And because of that, I’ve learned how predators operate. They mistake openness for weakness. They mistake kindness for permission. They mistake resilience for something they can chip away at. Cowards in the matrix.

Their tactics are predictable:- Interfering with visibility—hovering, for instance over listings with no intention to buy, trying to distort the achievements of others that keep business alive. – Watching without purpose—a kind of digital loitering that feeds their hollow sense of power. – Trying to isolate—making your spaces feel monitored, hoping you’ll shrink yourself to make them comfortable. These are not the actions of strong people. They are the habits of those who cannot build anything of their own that have solid spiritual substance. Financially privileged without doing the work, socially applauded.

What I Know About Surveillance Now

People talk about surveillance as if it’s always used to protect the vulnerable. My experience says otherwise. Surveillance can be used to create the vulnerable. It takes money, ego, and a deep bitterness to build systems designed to unsettle someone who is simply trying to live their life. Why? It’s what they call fun in their own empty vessels.

I’ve seen how dissatisfaction masquerades as curiosity. How ego dresses itself up as “concern.” How bitterness pretends to be “interest.”And wealth—when it’s in the hands of someone with no conscience—becomes a tool for intrusion. It rewards the watchers. It funds the spies. It emboldens people who believe they are untouchable. They hack into what they would never allow touched in their own world.

They cross boundaries they guard fiercely for themselves.

They do unto others what their unherited money would never allow done to them. And there is nothing more vulgar than a coward who hides behind the very weapons they throw.

The Courage I Choose Instead

What I’ve learned is this: the strongest counter-force isn’t rage or retaliation. It’s decency. Not the soft kind—the disciplined kind. The kind that refuses to collapse. The kind that refuses to become what it despises. Decency is not a weakness. Decency is a boundary. Decency is a refusal to hand your character over to someone who has none. But decency is not silence. And it is not surrender.

We become cowards ourselves if we refuse to develop the ethical, principled ways to expose manipulation, protect our spaces, and stand in our own truth. Naming the pattern is courage.

To Anyone Walking a Path Alone

If you feel targeted because you stand alone, I understand that feeling. But standing alone does not mean you are weak.

It means you have not bent.

It means you have not broken.

It means you have not joined the crowd of cowards who hide behind screens and money.

The laws are slowly catching up—The Domestic Abuse Act 2021 and The Online Safety Act finally acknowledge that digital and economic interference are not “drama.” They are violations. You are not being punished. You are being tested by people who fear your resilience.

Starve them of your energy.

Guard your digital doors.

Keep your heart open for the good ones, and closed to the cowards.

We are moving toward somewhere warm—somewhere honest—and we are going there with our dignity intact.

Tiffy Belle 🚀

Tonight I find myself wide awake while the cats prowl the house, restless and alert. It mirrors my own mind — scattered, heavy, hopeful, and tired all at once. I wanted to write earlier, but life, as it often does, pulled me in other directions. Still, these thoughts keep circling, and they need somewhere to land.

This is not a neat essay. It’s a reflection from someone who has lived too close to the cracks in our mental health system — as a parent, as a volunteer, and as a witness to the quiet suffering of people who are unwell and unsupported.

The Fear Only Loved Ones Know

There is a particular kind of helplessness that comes when someone you care about is mentally unwell and you cannot fix it. It is a grief that doesn’t end, because the person is still here, still loved, still fighting — but trapped in a system that cannot hold them.

Psychotic episodes are terrifying for everyone involved, especially the person experiencing them. Hallucinations, sleeplessness, distorted thinking — it is a storm inside the brain. And the fastest way the system knows how to respond is to section someone for their own safety or the safety of others.

In those moments, sedation and stabilisation become the priority. But stabilisation is not the same as understanding.

The Loophole No One Talks About

A 28‑day section is designed to calm the crisis, not to diagnose the cause. And this is where the system fails so many.

People are discharged without ever being assessed for:

• Autism
• ADHD
• Bipolar disorder
• Trauma-related conditions
• Personality disorders
• Developmental differences

The assumption is that the episode was the whole story. But often, it is only the surface.

Many people who experience psychosis have underlying conditions that were never identified. Once the crisis passes, they are sent home with no deeper understanding of why it happened.

This is the loophole.
This is where lives unravel.

Without accurate diagnosis, people drift into isolation, addiction, homelessness, or despair. Families burn out. Friendships collapse. The person becomes “difficult,” “chaotic,” or “lost,” when in reality they were never properly understood.

A&E Is Not a Mental Health Ward

A friend recently took her baby to A&E in the early hours. The child was struggling to breathe. They waited for hours. Around them were people in distress — a man urinating outside, another passed out across seats, a woman screaming at staff. The waiting room was full of individuals clearly in mental crisis.

Her baby had tonsillitis and a dangerously high temperature. She should have been prioritised. But the mental health emergency unit that once existed at that hospital had been closed. Everything — every crisis, every trauma, every breakdown — now funnels into A&E.

It is unsafe for the public.
It is unsafe for the vulnerable.
It is unsafe for the staff.

We need dedicated mental health emergency wards. Not as an afterthought, but as a core part of the NHS.

The Cruelty of Judgement from Those Who Have Never Lived It

One of the hardest parts of loving someone with severe mental illness is not just the illness itself — it’s the judgement from people who have never stood where you stand.

There is a particular kind of scorn that comes from the comfortable, the untested, the ones who have never had to drag a loved one through the darkest corners of the mind. They look at the chaos from the outside and assume it is the result of poor parenting, weak boundaries, laziness, or moral failure. They speak with confidence about situations they have never survived.

Until you have lived through the chaos of a loved one’s mental collapse, you cannot understand the toll it takes. Families are thrust into situations they are not trained for — moments that can become unpredictable, overwhelming, and at times genuinely dangerous. And tragically, many people who are mentally unwell turn their fear and confusion into blame, directing it at the very people trying to keep them safe. In the midst of illness, they often have no comprehension of the heartbreak their behaviour causes, nor the emotional devastation left behind.

Families in crisis do not need criticism.
They need compassion.
They need support.
They need a system that works.
And they need the world to stop assuming that suffering is a choice.

The Human Cost of Neglect

We talk about “down and outs” as if they are strangers to someone. But many of them were once loved, once stable, once hopeful. They are not all addicts or drifters by choice. Some are undiagnosed autistic adults. Some are traumatised. Some are bipolar. Some are simply lost.

And behind every one of them is a family — exhausted, frightened, grieving, and often judged.

People say “Why don’t their families help?”
But sometimes the illness becomes bigger than the family.
Sometimes the person becomes hostile, unpredictable, or unreachable.
Sometimes love is not enough.

We Need a Different Approach

We need:

• Proper diagnostic pathways for people who experience psychosis
• Separate emergency wards for mental health crises
• More trained staff
• Faster intervention
• Support networks for families
• Spaces where neurodivergent people can meet others like them
• A cultural shift in how we view the brain

Mental illness is not a moral failing.
It is not laziness.
It is not weakness.

It is a malfunction of the most complex organ we have — and when the brain falters, the consequences can be catastrophic.

Before It’s Too Late

The world is becoming louder, harsher, more isolating. Suicide rates are rising. Violence is rising. Addiction is rising. And the vulnerable are absorbing the impact.

We cannot keep sweeping this under the carpet.
We cannot keep pretending the system is working.
We cannot keep leaving families to cope alone.

Most of us know someone who needs help.
Most of us love someone who is struggling.
Most of us have felt the fear of watching a mind slip away.

It’s time to rebuild the system — not patch it.

Because lives depend on it.
Because families depend on it.
Because one day, it might be someone you love.

🤍 A Final Word

If you’ve read this far, perhaps you’ve walked some of this road yourself — or you love someone who has. Maybe you’ve felt the same fear, the same exhaustion, the same desperate hope that the system will finally catch the people it keeps dropping.

My intention in sharing this isn’t to point fingers, but to open a window into a reality that too many families endure in silence. Mental illness affects entire circles, not just individuals. And until we speak honestly about the gaps, nothing will change.

If this resonates with you, you’re not alone.
If it hurts to read, it’s because it’s real.
And if you’re carrying someone through the dark right now, I see you.

We deserve a system that sees you too.

🤍 Tiffy Belle 🤍

Today has been one of those quietly demanding days — the kind where you don’t stop moving, yet the world barely notices the work being done.

I started with a mountain of cat beds and blankets for the rescue, all needing a good wash. This time of year always brings a heartbreaking surge in the fluffies who were handed out as presents and then discarded when the novelty wore off. Kittens, especially. Tiny lives treated like trinkets.

But there’s something grounding about doing what you can, even if it’s small. Giving a few hours to a team of real animal advocates — the ones who roll up their sleeves, get their hands dirty, and do the work that rarely gets applause. The cats notice. That’s enough.

Between loads of laundry, I sorted through some vintage for their community shop in Blackpool. There’s a certain soulfulness in that too — passing things on, keeping them in circulation, letting objects find their next chapter.

A quick note of correction: in a previous blog I misspelled Emma‑Jean Thackray’s name. It matters to me to get it right, especially as I want to shout out her Jazz FM show — she’s hosting her own slot every Saturday night at 9pm throughout January. Worth tuning in.

Later, while sifting through more vintage, I put on GB News and caught Lily Moo — an activist speaking for the suppressed in her country of origin. Her courage made me cry. Not out of sadness, but pride.

The interview was well handled, and it reminded me how rarely we hear Iran spoken about with nuance, empathy, or urgency. I stand with Iranian activists. And I stand firmly against any hard‑line ideology — from any direction — that tries to plant hatred on British soil. There’s no place for that here.

Finally, a thought on the recent noise around deepfake porn and Grok. Yes, it’s serious. Yes, it deserves scrutiny. But if we only focus on one platform or one headline, we’re missing the wider landscape. Women’s rights are being undermined by pinhole cameras, facial recognition misuse, stalking apps, car trackers, hackers, and a whole ecosystem of tech that slips under the radar. It’s all connected. It’s all part of the same problem. We can’t afford to be complacent or narrow our attention to a single topic when the issue is systemic and right across the dark web also, etc.

A long day, a full day, and one that reminded me — again — that small acts matter, names matter, courage matters, and vigilance matters.

Tiffy Belle ❤️