If there is one thing I think I could help others learn from my experience, it would be how to sort out memories that don't make sense. This still comes with a trigger warning, though. Maybe it's for the best for some people that they don't put certain fragments together. If you feel like you need to do that, though, read on...
One of the first things I remember about how my handler tried to manipulate my memory is that she had my family frequently make me switch rooms and rearrange furniture. We had a 4 bedroom house. My sister had moved out so it was just me, my brother and our parents. This meant there was one spare bedroom that I could be moved into and out of as needed. I believe this part of the program had to do with compartmentalization of memories based on visual-spatial cues.
A similar tactic had to do with moving the furniture around in the room. Sometimes the furniture would be moved for the abuse event then moved back while I was unconscious, ensuring I'd wake up with the room just the way it looked before something happened. Other times they'd let time pass and build up the trauma memories before switching the furniture.
I'm assuming all this was an attempt to create alters that identify a certain way with the environment.
At any rate, this went counter to their purposes but I'm guessing it may have been my handler's way of getting me to remember more than I should and getting away with it. I'm a creature of habit, so changes in my environment are very noticeable to me. This had the effect of creating an anchor point between clusters of memories. Each room was like a file with information in it and each transition was also like a file. Her tone with me varied between rooms so it was like she was talking out both sides of her mouth.
It was very much a computer program because all memory devices operated on "WHILE". While my bed is against that wall and my stereo is over on that other wall, X happens. While I was looking at that particular photo, or that stuffed animal very intentionally in one corner of the room, etc etc...while these conditions prevailed, memories were associated with them.
If you intend to break through your amnesia, it can be very helpful to call up these types of images. Your memories may come back to you as the smallest of fragments. For instance, you might keep seeing a particular piece of art that used to hang on the wall. You have to ask yourself: what happened while that was there? Was there ever a time something happened before, during or after I was looking at that concrete physical object? This speaks a lot to how esoteric triggers are created in the program. The average person may be afraid of snakes or planes but MK Ultra survivors are made to fear things like Da Vinci's "The Last Supper" or certain smells or lighting conditions.
Imagine you've spent your whole life agonizing over not knowing how to do an oil change on your car yet you've also possessed your father's "How to Be an Auto Mechanic" book the entire time and never followed your good intentions to read it? If you search your memory, you will usually find more memories about the first time you saw the book on the coffee table, the first time someone sexually assaulted or electrocuted you WHILE making you stare at that book and WHILE saying things like "You should be able to do this as your dad's kid but you never will. You are not allowed to save money by fixing your own car."
These types of attacks go into the part of our brain where memories would have been stored about common knowledge and sometimes academic knowledge. Most people learn a lot just from being immersed in their environment, similar to the way we learn language. When you are in MK Ultra, however, all of your environmental advantages are tampered with and taken from you. Unless you are chosen for a reason. you will never for example follow in the footsteps of a successful parent's career.
Finally, there's also some advanced tampering with environmental cues that I think can tell you a lot about WHO your perpetrators were connected to. I have a lot of memories of being assaulted in buildings that were still under construction as well as in places like malls (on Sunday) where you'd think it would be difficult to gain access. Even if you know you have CIA handlers, it doesn't mean they flashed a badge and got you in. More than likely they already had "buddies" who were real estate developers who could give them access to the property with no questions asked. Think about the kinds of places you remember being taken to outside of home and ask yourself: what is the simplest explanation for how this would've worked? Who would've had to be involved for them to get away with it?
Sunday, November 26, 2017
Saturday, November 25, 2017
*TW* Food Programming
I should probably put trigger warnings on all my posts. Please forgive me for just now getting with the program. If you have food issues, this post may or may not help you understand some of them. It depends on whether they used this same tactic on you.
What I want to discuss today is how the handlers use food in screening memories. They like to add this component in to the relationship with your primary caretaker, usually mom. This goes along with all the other screening done with movies, television, books and music.
A majority of my food programming had to do with the sexual assaults. They tried as hard as possible to create sexual euphemisms using everyday food. I'm going to use clinical terms here which might trigger some people but I think it's important to just be honest. Here are some examples:
Then, she turns it on me. As I go through life and decide to experiment with being more plant based, she programs that to the idea of "matching" her. She thinks she can turn me into a ped by going vegetarian *or* she knows that eating less meat probably would be good for me and is now preventing me from being comfortable with a new diet because she, the abuser, is the first person I ever met who followed that lifestyle.
I remember when these triggers first started. I'd be shopping and I'd hear her narrating everything: "Oh are you EATING BABY KALE? Is that As(s)-para-gee-us? You can buy some fruit OR some baked beans but not both at once, otherwise you are a pedophile."
It literally drove me insane and, actually, this is the first time I'm realizing that that part of the programming has died down. I was so glad for it to stop I didn't give it another thought until just now. I'm sure if she were sitting here she'd say "don't post about this or you're a cereal killer!"
I don't want to assign that sense of humor to her since it is all so awful; however, I guess the programming did keep me from spending too much at the store during a very critical time in my transition.
Once I got past that I can see now that they used it on me again when I was living with another survivor. I had to fight the programming to tell him what had happened in our past, to tell him that as recently as a few years ago he had been at my house and been assaulted. The pressure was intense because they had programmed him to rip off all of *my* amnesia barriers. Again, a lot of this was done through food - the type of food products that he chose.
He would bring home things like "Heart 2 Heart" cereal, as in "let's have a heart to heart, tell me what happened." His host personality was not aware of this and I knew better than to tell him in the situation he was in. It would've been too much. But they had his alter programmed to punish me for that and bring various food items into the house that were triggering for me. They also had him virtually destroy my refrigerator by constantly buying the same things that we weren't yet out of and then shoving all of my food into the back to rot.
It really pissed me off!
Anyways, I think that's it for this topic. If anything resonates with you, let me know in the comments!
What I want to discuss today is how the handlers use food in screening memories. They like to add this component in to the relationship with your primary caretaker, usually mom. This goes along with all the other screening done with movies, television, books and music.
A majority of my food programming had to do with the sexual assaults. They tried as hard as possible to create sexual euphemisms using everyday food. I'm going to use clinical terms here which might trigger some people but I think it's important to just be honest. Here are some examples:
- An anal assault occurred: The next day, I'd have a banana with peanut butter.
- A vaginal/oral assault occurred: I would have a tuna-fish sandwich or a bowl of
clam chowder (clam chow there). - My handler assaults me then has my mom tell me she wanted me to know that she knows she "got a little wild last night". So, we have "wild rice" with dinner.
Then, she turns it on me. As I go through life and decide to experiment with being more plant based, she programs that to the idea of "matching" her. She thinks she can turn me into a ped by going vegetarian *or* she knows that eating less meat probably would be good for me and is now preventing me from being comfortable with a new diet because she, the abuser, is the first person I ever met who followed that lifestyle.
I remember when these triggers first started. I'd be shopping and I'd hear her narrating everything: "Oh are you EATING BABY KALE? Is that As(s)-para-gee-us? You can buy some fruit OR some baked beans but not both at once, otherwise you are a pedophile."
It literally drove me insane and, actually, this is the first time I'm realizing that that part of the programming has died down. I was so glad for it to stop I didn't give it another thought until just now. I'm sure if she were sitting here she'd say "don't post about this or you're a cereal killer!"
I don't want to assign that sense of humor to her since it is all so awful; however, I guess the programming did keep me from spending too much at the store during a very critical time in my transition.
Once I got past that I can see now that they used it on me again when I was living with another survivor. I had to fight the programming to tell him what had happened in our past, to tell him that as recently as a few years ago he had been at my house and been assaulted. The pressure was intense because they had programmed him to rip off all of *my* amnesia barriers. Again, a lot of this was done through food - the type of food products that he chose.
He would bring home things like "Heart 2 Heart" cereal, as in "let's have a heart to heart, tell me what happened." His host personality was not aware of this and I knew better than to tell him in the situation he was in. It would've been too much. But they had his alter programmed to punish me for that and bring various food items into the house that were triggering for me. They also had him virtually destroy my refrigerator by constantly buying the same things that we weren't yet out of and then shoving all of my food into the back to rot.
It really pissed me off!
Anyways, I think that's it for this topic. If anything resonates with you, let me know in the comments!
Sunday, November 19, 2017
In-School Programming
Some memories of note regarding how programs and handling operated at my elementary school......
All of our teachers seemed privy to insider information about the future of technology and its impact on society and work. They tended to over-complicate basic math and science curriculum with lectures about how important it was for all of us to master these skills, even if we weren't going into a technical profession. They were right about that but very heavy-handed about it and not helpful to kids like me who just needed them to keep it simple, not pair it with apocalyptic visions of being too stupid to use an ATM machine properly.
I could be imagining this but I also think I remember our P.E./Science teacher giving us an entire lesson on skepticism one time. He spent the whole period talking to us about people who believe in things like aliens and cryptids and how he wanted us all to learn to debunk these things with science. He said it was our Christian duty to deprogram others from believing in these things.
On various occasions we were given hemispheric specialization tests under the guise of 'fun personality quizzes'. These types of tests were presented as "breaks" from whatever subject we were studying. None of us minded because it usually felt in some of our classes that we were getting crammed with college level amounts of information. By just the second grade they were forcing us to learn the taxonomy of everything in nature and didn't care that none of us spoke Latin. We were just to memorize the words even if they were gibberish in the hopes that we'd recognize the origins when we did take Latin.
These types of things were typical of the environment and although it seemed out of the ordinary to me I was encouraged to explain it away as "just a fancy school experimenting with alternative lesson plans."
The more blatant programming, for me, happened during 5th grade computer science with the handler from the Y. Whenever she was programming us as a group she would start by giving us all a drink and a snack. Looking back on this, she had to have put drugs in our drinks for her to be able to get away with what she was saying and have none of us interrupt her. I can remember hearing her describe the deterioration programs of at least 7 people (including me) in class. I can also remember her using the term "T.I.", targeted individual, and about some of us being "in the cross-hairs" of a group of Nazis.
Then, there were the private sessions that she did with some of us. She started out holding us after class for 5 to 10 minutes and then increased the time a bit by getting the class moved to the end of the day so that she could work with us during carpool instead of making us late to other teacher's classes.
These private sessions had a lot to do with controlling alters. I can remember her explaining the concept of "spinning" to me. She described future traumas and what type of spinning they would cause as well as what I needed to do to stop it. She seemed to be putting trigger words in front of me and testing me for the reaction. If I seemed to get confused or panic, she would say "Control-Alt-Delete. Go to the home screen." We were actually working on all this on a computer with some type of program she'd set up for it.
She also had set up something she called "learning your script." This was very strange since the "script" was a lot of CIA word play gibberish. I recovered what I think is most of the script several years ago and wrote it down on an app in an old cell phone. I can't recall all of it right now and I can't turn that phone back on, but I do remember this part:
'My name is an E.T. phoneme. Phone me.
Call me, Marsy Device."
Marsy Device was an elide for "Marcy Davis", which wasn't her name at all, but the name of the mother of another survivor who lived in my handler's home state. As my life played out, however, this pairing made no sense. I knew I had met Marcy but I never had the ability to call her nor could I call my handler. All of my interactions with other survivors or members of "the network" were timed and controlled by my handlers and would set upon me without any warning. Bam! Here's Marcy! Bam! Here's Marcy's kid. I had no say in any of it. I was merely being "exposed" to a lot of people and information and, it seems, asked to remember all of it.
That "job", if you want to call it that, is something I feel like I was programmed for inside and outside of school. School, however, gave her a lot more leeway on certain things she wanted to do. No one batted an eye if she wanted to work one on one or with a small select group of us. I can still remember her pulling me aside one day and asking me to help her find "the key to Pandora's Box". She had been asking me a lot about keys at that time and for some reason the only thing I could think to do is figure out where to steal some. So, I stole keys out of an abandoned car at the mall as well as a whole pile that were set aside at school as something for us to play with.
I feel bad about that now and don't know why I was doing it. But in my situation I learned to swallow remorse and guilt for helping the criminals around me do what they claimed they needed to do to help me. If I'm being generous to myself, I'd say it's like Don Johnson on Miami Vice being forced to smuggle cocaine in order to save his own life. I had to do a lot of things that were wrong and pretend that it wasn't me. Once I realized that procuring all these keys for her wasn't changing anything I decided that she was just trying to turn me into a thief or shoplifter.
I stopped doing her dirty work at school and started paying more attention to who she was outside the classroom. Learning to recognize those two personas as the same person was probably one of the hardest things I had to do. It would be a while until I made that connection, though. She disappeared my 6th grade year, and the other computer science teacher said "She got divorced and had a heart attack." So, I thought this handler was dead. It wasn't until I had moved on to Junior High/High School that I realized she and the other one were still alive and well and tracking me.
All of our teachers seemed privy to insider information about the future of technology and its impact on society and work. They tended to over-complicate basic math and science curriculum with lectures about how important it was for all of us to master these skills, even if we weren't going into a technical profession. They were right about that but very heavy-handed about it and not helpful to kids like me who just needed them to keep it simple, not pair it with apocalyptic visions of being too stupid to use an ATM machine properly.
I could be imagining this but I also think I remember our P.E./Science teacher giving us an entire lesson on skepticism one time. He spent the whole period talking to us about people who believe in things like aliens and cryptids and how he wanted us all to learn to debunk these things with science. He said it was our Christian duty to deprogram others from believing in these things.
On various occasions we were given hemispheric specialization tests under the guise of 'fun personality quizzes'. These types of tests were presented as "breaks" from whatever subject we were studying. None of us minded because it usually felt in some of our classes that we were getting crammed with college level amounts of information. By just the second grade they were forcing us to learn the taxonomy of everything in nature and didn't care that none of us spoke Latin. We were just to memorize the words even if they were gibberish in the hopes that we'd recognize the origins when we did take Latin.
These types of things were typical of the environment and although it seemed out of the ordinary to me I was encouraged to explain it away as "just a fancy school experimenting with alternative lesson plans."
The more blatant programming, for me, happened during 5th grade computer science with the handler from the Y. Whenever she was programming us as a group she would start by giving us all a drink and a snack. Looking back on this, she had to have put drugs in our drinks for her to be able to get away with what she was saying and have none of us interrupt her. I can remember hearing her describe the deterioration programs of at least 7 people (including me) in class. I can also remember her using the term "T.I.", targeted individual, and about some of us being "in the cross-hairs" of a group of Nazis.
Then, there were the private sessions that she did with some of us. She started out holding us after class for 5 to 10 minutes and then increased the time a bit by getting the class moved to the end of the day so that she could work with us during carpool instead of making us late to other teacher's classes.
These private sessions had a lot to do with controlling alters. I can remember her explaining the concept of "spinning" to me. She described future traumas and what type of spinning they would cause as well as what I needed to do to stop it. She seemed to be putting trigger words in front of me and testing me for the reaction. If I seemed to get confused or panic, she would say "Control-Alt-Delete. Go to the home screen." We were actually working on all this on a computer with some type of program she'd set up for it.
She also had set up something she called "learning your script." This was very strange since the "script" was a lot of CIA word play gibberish. I recovered what I think is most of the script several years ago and wrote it down on an app in an old cell phone. I can't recall all of it right now and I can't turn that phone back on, but I do remember this part:
'My name is an E.T. phoneme. Phone me.
Call me, Marsy Device."
Marsy Device was an elide for "Marcy Davis", which wasn't her name at all, but the name of the mother of another survivor who lived in my handler's home state. As my life played out, however, this pairing made no sense. I knew I had met Marcy but I never had the ability to call her nor could I call my handler. All of my interactions with other survivors or members of "the network" were timed and controlled by my handlers and would set upon me without any warning. Bam! Here's Marcy! Bam! Here's Marcy's kid. I had no say in any of it. I was merely being "exposed" to a lot of people and information and, it seems, asked to remember all of it.
That "job", if you want to call it that, is something I feel like I was programmed for inside and outside of school. School, however, gave her a lot more leeway on certain things she wanted to do. No one batted an eye if she wanted to work one on one or with a small select group of us. I can still remember her pulling me aside one day and asking me to help her find "the key to Pandora's Box". She had been asking me a lot about keys at that time and for some reason the only thing I could think to do is figure out where to steal some. So, I stole keys out of an abandoned car at the mall as well as a whole pile that were set aside at school as something for us to play with.
I feel bad about that now and don't know why I was doing it. But in my situation I learned to swallow remorse and guilt for helping the criminals around me do what they claimed they needed to do to help me. If I'm being generous to myself, I'd say it's like Don Johnson on Miami Vice being forced to smuggle cocaine in order to save his own life. I had to do a lot of things that were wrong and pretend that it wasn't me. Once I realized that procuring all these keys for her wasn't changing anything I decided that she was just trying to turn me into a thief or shoplifter.
I stopped doing her dirty work at school and started paying more attention to who she was outside the classroom. Learning to recognize those two personas as the same person was probably one of the hardest things I had to do. It would be a while until I made that connection, though. She disappeared my 6th grade year, and the other computer science teacher said "She got divorced and had a heart attack." So, I thought this handler was dead. It wasn't until I had moved on to Junior High/High School that I realized she and the other one were still alive and well and tracking me.
Saturday, November 18, 2017
Cult Schools II: Somewhere Over the Rainbow
Once I 'graduated' from the Y (that sounds weird just saying it), things were up in the air for a while. My parents enrolled me in the public school up the street but I only lasted about 2 weeks there. They were big into corporal punishment and I decided I'd seen enough one day when our homeroom teacher threw this boy onto a table, ripped off his clothes and put him in a diaper as punishment for "acting like a baby" (we were kindergartners for god's sake!).
My parents found a private school they could afford but I had to wait 6 months due to my age. They had decided to just skip me up to the 1st grade instead of having me go through kindergarten. I know I had to take one or more aptitude tests to be admitted and my memories of that are where things get interesting.
I'm trying not to make this complicated but the woman who administered the test was the future headmaster. They presented her as if she already worked there, but she actually didn't come on board until my second year to replace the guy who ended up being an outside-of-school "consultant" type of handler. He held a doctorate in early childhood education and had been a professor at a university in east Texas.
Anyways, I'm still trying to recover my memories of the "test". It was supposedly an intelligence test but it was actually conducted as an "intelligence" test in C.I.A. terms. There were some normal seeming questions about shapes, letters, math, etc. But there were also a lot of questions that actually involved this woman divulging classified information to me and asking me how I would respond to it.
Before she did that, she took time to educate me on their meaning of the word "classified". She also explained how people can be emotionally manipulated into releasing classified information. She said in my case it would be related to being a part of "the rainbow" (the lgbtq community). I didn't know yet that there were words for those feelings so it kind of went over my head.
I can remember her giving me a sample scenario. She said something along the lines of: "Let's say you and I are married. Of course, because you're on the trans part of the rainbow, you'd have to become a man to marry someone like me, otherwise we'd have to be lesbians together, but I'm not on that part of the rainbow. Don't worry about that, let's just say somehow we're married and I work for the C.I.A. I come home in a really bad mood and you want to know what's wrong. I tell you 'It's classified'. Now, are my feelings really classified? They shouldn't be, but what if they are? What if I can't tell you how I'm feeling because to do so I would have to explain the situation - and I'm afraid no matter what I say about it, I'm going to leak something classified whether I mean to or not?"
Another fragment is coming in as I write this. I know I had this feeling of being visually led to stare at the office door and retrieve a flashback of something I had already been forced to block out prior to the test. That memory is telling me that I had met Oxana (the handler who had been the lifeguard at the Y) when I was there to register for school. We were standing on the other side of the headmaster's door. She said (I hope I'm not making this up?): "Welcome to St.John's, you're mine here." She showed me this legal sized envelope and said "I have this legal sized envelope full of information on you. I hope it grows here. I hope it fills binder after binder."
I think she also explained to me that she was acting as a researcher and that was her cover for also being a guard.
I remember that now but during the test it was operating differently in my mind. I realized that my future headmaster was talking to me about that particular handler and describing her issues. She seemed to be programming me to deal with her crankiness. But at the same time, she was also explaining how that whole process turns into Stockholm Syndrome. In a way it was like she was tapping into a part of me that was already classified....I think the part that could've played the whole memory out like a video camera if it were safe to do so. However, I had developed my own cover where I clung to ghost images, shapes and anything to do with my senses in order to, for lack of a better word, 'encrypt' the memory. I could know what something was about without having to dive into focusing on total recall.
Moving on to my first year there.....My first grade teacher resembled the woman who would become my other handler starting in 2nd grade. The first year was very strange. Everyone was rowdy. I'm not sure how we got away with it. Strange things would happen without anyone questioning it. For instance, we had to participate one day in a "hearing test" being conducted by "the NSA". Except our teacher called them "the national signaling agency", I believe. Despite meeting my future handlers, neither of them were working there at the time, but it was like their presence was being announced through these weird activities.
I'm trying not to ramble but there's so much to say about this situation. I may have to do a separate post about some of the memories. If I could sum up what happened next.... the first thing is that by second grade, Pam showed up as my homeroom teacher. By 4th or 5th grade, Oxana showed up as the computer science teacher. Once they were employed there, they had the ability to program us while we were at school.
Everyone around seemed to know what was going on..other kids (who were also trafficked), other teachers, parents, etc. The whole school was aware of the situation at the adult level and sometimes among some of the kids. But my perception a lot of the time was that I was the only one who was going through it. They used a lot of social conditioning to help with my memory. Sometimes if something had happened and I was blocking it out, a teacher or other student would trigger it to come up. A lot of times they did this in what felt like very cruel ways. They seemed to enjoy targeting me for shame and humiliation.
I hate saying that, though, because it turned out that I benefited from that and there were a lot of other ways they arranged things that I think helped me a lot psychologically. If they hadn't constantly reminded me that something was going on, I might have buried a lot of very crucial memories.
Well, I guess I've summarized enough. There are too many memories to address here in just one post, but I'll cover a few in a separate one so that people can see how the deeper levels were operating.
My parents found a private school they could afford but I had to wait 6 months due to my age. They had decided to just skip me up to the 1st grade instead of having me go through kindergarten. I know I had to take one or more aptitude tests to be admitted and my memories of that are where things get interesting.
I'm trying not to make this complicated but the woman who administered the test was the future headmaster. They presented her as if she already worked there, but she actually didn't come on board until my second year to replace the guy who ended up being an outside-of-school "consultant" type of handler. He held a doctorate in early childhood education and had been a professor at a university in east Texas.
Anyways, I'm still trying to recover my memories of the "test". It was supposedly an intelligence test but it was actually conducted as an "intelligence" test in C.I.A. terms. There were some normal seeming questions about shapes, letters, math, etc. But there were also a lot of questions that actually involved this woman divulging classified information to me and asking me how I would respond to it.
Before she did that, she took time to educate me on their meaning of the word "classified". She also explained how people can be emotionally manipulated into releasing classified information. She said in my case it would be related to being a part of "the rainbow" (the lgbtq community). I didn't know yet that there were words for those feelings so it kind of went over my head.
I can remember her giving me a sample scenario. She said something along the lines of: "Let's say you and I are married. Of course, because you're on the trans part of the rainbow, you'd have to become a man to marry someone like me, otherwise we'd have to be lesbians together, but I'm not on that part of the rainbow. Don't worry about that, let's just say somehow we're married and I work for the C.I.A. I come home in a really bad mood and you want to know what's wrong. I tell you 'It's classified'. Now, are my feelings really classified? They shouldn't be, but what if they are? What if I can't tell you how I'm feeling because to do so I would have to explain the situation - and I'm afraid no matter what I say about it, I'm going to leak something classified whether I mean to or not?"
Another fragment is coming in as I write this. I know I had this feeling of being visually led to stare at the office door and retrieve a flashback of something I had already been forced to block out prior to the test. That memory is telling me that I had met Oxana (the handler who had been the lifeguard at the Y) when I was there to register for school. We were standing on the other side of the headmaster's door. She said (I hope I'm not making this up?): "Welcome to St.John's, you're mine here." She showed me this legal sized envelope and said "I have this legal sized envelope full of information on you. I hope it grows here. I hope it fills binder after binder."
I think she also explained to me that she was acting as a researcher and that was her cover for also being a guard.
I remember that now but during the test it was operating differently in my mind. I realized that my future headmaster was talking to me about that particular handler and describing her issues. She seemed to be programming me to deal with her crankiness. But at the same time, she was also explaining how that whole process turns into Stockholm Syndrome. In a way it was like she was tapping into a part of me that was already classified....I think the part that could've played the whole memory out like a video camera if it were safe to do so. However, I had developed my own cover where I clung to ghost images, shapes and anything to do with my senses in order to, for lack of a better word, 'encrypt' the memory. I could know what something was about without having to dive into focusing on total recall.
Moving on to my first year there.....My first grade teacher resembled the woman who would become my other handler starting in 2nd grade. The first year was very strange. Everyone was rowdy. I'm not sure how we got away with it. Strange things would happen without anyone questioning it. For instance, we had to participate one day in a "hearing test" being conducted by "the NSA". Except our teacher called them "the national signaling agency", I believe. Despite meeting my future handlers, neither of them were working there at the time, but it was like their presence was being announced through these weird activities.
I'm trying not to ramble but there's so much to say about this situation. I may have to do a separate post about some of the memories. If I could sum up what happened next.... the first thing is that by second grade, Pam showed up as my homeroom teacher. By 4th or 5th grade, Oxana showed up as the computer science teacher. Once they were employed there, they had the ability to program us while we were at school.
Everyone around seemed to know what was going on..other kids (who were also trafficked), other teachers, parents, etc. The whole school was aware of the situation at the adult level and sometimes among some of the kids. But my perception a lot of the time was that I was the only one who was going through it. They used a lot of social conditioning to help with my memory. Sometimes if something had happened and I was blocking it out, a teacher or other student would trigger it to come up. A lot of times they did this in what felt like very cruel ways. They seemed to enjoy targeting me for shame and humiliation.
I hate saying that, though, because it turned out that I benefited from that and there were a lot of other ways they arranged things that I think helped me a lot psychologically. If they hadn't constantly reminded me that something was going on, I might have buried a lot of very crucial memories.
Well, I guess I've summarized enough. There are too many memories to address here in just one post, but I'll cover a few in a separate one so that people can see how the deeper levels were operating.
Thursday, November 16, 2017
Cult Controlled Schools: Part I
I have a feeling this will be the first of more than a few posts on this subject. I always thought the situation that played out at the schools I went to was unique to my situation. Turns out, it's not! I've heard other survivors and also researchers discuss this phenomenon. I might ramble a little bit in this post as I collect my memories in a stream-of-consciousness way, so forgive me in advance.
My first experience of being handled in an education environment goes all the way back to pre-k/kindergarten. For some reason my family didn't put me in a traditional school for that. Instead, they sent me to a program run by the YWCA just a mile or so from our house. This is also where I took swimming lessons (more on that in a bit).
At the time, one of my handlers was working there as a life guard at the pool while my homeroom teacher appeared to be a programmer, probably taking orders from that handler. I liked my homeroom teacher. She always treated me well. Most of our lessons were what you'd expect for that age except for one specific homework lesson we received which had to do with programming. I wish I had a copy of it because it's hard to explain what they were doing. I remember a long list of "math" problems that were entirely visual. We had to "add, subtract, multiply, divide" geometric shapes. We also had word problems that focused on antonyms involving the elements (fire and ice, etc).
On off days, the "lifeguard" handler would come to the house and train me to view the alphabet and English language phonemes as having the double meanings that she assigned. I guess you could say there was a lot of programming going on with language, both qualitative and visual.
We also had programming going on regarding the cartoons we watched at home. I can still remember my mom telling me that my handler watched all the same ones I did and knew a lot about them. Then she said that she knew that I could tell what was fantasy but there was another kid who couldn't and that I would see him trying to act out being able to fly the next day. Sure enough, this kid got up on a jungle gym during recess and tried to "fly" over to some monkey bars. He didn't make it. Instead, he ended up whacking his mouth on the metal bar and knocked a couple of teeth out.
I wish I could find the journal where I first wrote about this because right now I can't remember a lot of details. What I do know is that I ran inside to find a teacher to help this kid out. I found the P.E. teacher and she stood with me, looking out the door, and told me there was someone else who had to handle the situation. In that private moment, she also said that she didn't approve of the situation. She pointed to her whistle and said "Just because I've got a whistle around my neck doesn't mean I can be a whistleblower. I'd like to, but I can't."
The rest of the memory is fragmented again. It's been at least a year since I recovered it. All I know is that I was pushed through a door into the gym and made to feel like I was somehow bad or wrong for being the one to try to help this other kid. That I was viewed as a potential whistleblower for having compassion.
Also, due to the swim program and the long operating hours of the Y, it was easy for them to abuse me in secret and at odd hours. I have memories of that handler half drowning me in the pool when no one was around. I also have memories of being assaulted by her in the locker-room, then picked up by one of the mafia handlers afterwards when it was dark out.
I may fill this out a bit more if I can find that journal again soon but this is what I remember from the Y. In the next post, I'll describe what happened through elementary school, where the connection between being handled both at school and at home became more pronounced.
My first experience of being handled in an education environment goes all the way back to pre-k/kindergarten. For some reason my family didn't put me in a traditional school for that. Instead, they sent me to a program run by the YWCA just a mile or so from our house. This is also where I took swimming lessons (more on that in a bit).
At the time, one of my handlers was working there as a life guard at the pool while my homeroom teacher appeared to be a programmer, probably taking orders from that handler. I liked my homeroom teacher. She always treated me well. Most of our lessons were what you'd expect for that age except for one specific homework lesson we received which had to do with programming. I wish I had a copy of it because it's hard to explain what they were doing. I remember a long list of "math" problems that were entirely visual. We had to "add, subtract, multiply, divide" geometric shapes. We also had word problems that focused on antonyms involving the elements (fire and ice, etc).
On off days, the "lifeguard" handler would come to the house and train me to view the alphabet and English language phonemes as having the double meanings that she assigned. I guess you could say there was a lot of programming going on with language, both qualitative and visual.
We also had programming going on regarding the cartoons we watched at home. I can still remember my mom telling me that my handler watched all the same ones I did and knew a lot about them. Then she said that she knew that I could tell what was fantasy but there was another kid who couldn't and that I would see him trying to act out being able to fly the next day. Sure enough, this kid got up on a jungle gym during recess and tried to "fly" over to some monkey bars. He didn't make it. Instead, he ended up whacking his mouth on the metal bar and knocked a couple of teeth out.
I wish I could find the journal where I first wrote about this because right now I can't remember a lot of details. What I do know is that I ran inside to find a teacher to help this kid out. I found the P.E. teacher and she stood with me, looking out the door, and told me there was someone else who had to handle the situation. In that private moment, she also said that she didn't approve of the situation. She pointed to her whistle and said "Just because I've got a whistle around my neck doesn't mean I can be a whistleblower. I'd like to, but I can't."
The rest of the memory is fragmented again. It's been at least a year since I recovered it. All I know is that I was pushed through a door into the gym and made to feel like I was somehow bad or wrong for being the one to try to help this other kid. That I was viewed as a potential whistleblower for having compassion.
Also, due to the swim program and the long operating hours of the Y, it was easy for them to abuse me in secret and at odd hours. I have memories of that handler half drowning me in the pool when no one was around. I also have memories of being assaulted by her in the locker-room, then picked up by one of the mafia handlers afterwards when it was dark out.
I may fill this out a bit more if I can find that journal again soon but this is what I remember from the Y. In the next post, I'll describe what happened through elementary school, where the connection between being handled both at school and at home became more pronounced.
Tuesday, November 14, 2017
Targeting of Pets
This subject of pet targeting came up recently in conversation as a suggested post. This is a difficult subject most of the time because there are so many natural hazards in the outdoor environment it would be difficult to say whether a pet was targeted on purpose. People who don't clean up after themselves leave out things like anti-freeze and other toxic substances. There are toxic plants a pet might eat. There are predators in some locations such as wolves and large birds that could carry a pet away.
Those types of unfortunate deaths are about statistics and likelihood. Just as with people, if you live in a high crime neighborhood, you have a greater chance of being the victim of gang violence. If the targeting is there, it's there in the indirect sense of being forced down into poverty and a certain set of living conditions where negative things are more likely to occur. I'd say in most cases the only way to gain any evidence of an intentional targeting would be for your veterinarian to assess the situation. If it's poisoning, your vet might find something uncommon, something your pet wouldn't naturally consume. If your pet is struck by a vehicle, the most you'll probably ever be able to determine is that the person either wasn't aware they'd hit something (perhaps driving under the influence) or they simply didn't care or they couldn't handle the confrontation and the possibility of being responsible for any bills.
In most cases, a majority of these incidents are the outcome of someone's dissociation and/or lack of following common safety rules. That makes the targeting impossible to prove unless the perpetrators come out and share how they did it. They do this same thing with people. They program people to drive when fatigued or dissociated, they program people to make autonomic mistakes when handling things like saws or industrial equipment. You may know in your heart that an industrial accident that maimed you was intentional but you'll never be able to prove it. More than likely it will be the case that you were triggered to have an off day and a colleague was programmed to want to distract you with small talk, causing you to briefly forget the safety rules. In effect, they make it "your fault" even though they are the ones who caused your dissociation in the first place.
You can suspect this is the case when you replay the incident over and over thinking "I knew better than that. I never did that in the past." If you are always diligent and one day act out of character and suffer as a result, I would suspect some type of program was running to encourage the accident.
Now, there are obviously the more overt forms of targeting. I can remember as a child when one of the family pets returned to our home with a bullet hole in his neck. That one was obvious especially in the sense that my family typically never allowed this dog to roam the neighborhood unattended. Several years later, he died after we returned home from a long car trip and, fatigued and inattentive, we didn't realize he'd been left in the hot car until it was too late.
In a later incident with another dog, I was put on drugs and forced to shoot an arrow at my border collie. I truly believed I had killed him but was told later that it was staged and one of my handlers had taken the dog for himself. My family, however, spun the perfectly plausible explanation that a farmer across the way had shot him dead for trying to herd his cattle.
As far as more esoteric forms of targeting, I don't believe any of us have the resources to identify it. I remember reading a story about the Bush family in relation to this. George Snr., Barbara and their family pet all came down with Grave's disease within a few months of each other. They knew this was highly unusual and hired someone to test the water at their home, the Whitehouse and a few other locations. They were unable to find any evidence to explain how all three of them came down with the same condition almost at once.
Some would ask "What about EMF targeting?". While certainly possible, what would you do to stop it after ruling out all other possibilities? Certainly you wouldn't want to cover your pets in tinfoil. I think the most any of us can do is love them the best we can while we have them and leave the rest up to God.
Those types of unfortunate deaths are about statistics and likelihood. Just as with people, if you live in a high crime neighborhood, you have a greater chance of being the victim of gang violence. If the targeting is there, it's there in the indirect sense of being forced down into poverty and a certain set of living conditions where negative things are more likely to occur. I'd say in most cases the only way to gain any evidence of an intentional targeting would be for your veterinarian to assess the situation. If it's poisoning, your vet might find something uncommon, something your pet wouldn't naturally consume. If your pet is struck by a vehicle, the most you'll probably ever be able to determine is that the person either wasn't aware they'd hit something (perhaps driving under the influence) or they simply didn't care or they couldn't handle the confrontation and the possibility of being responsible for any bills.
In most cases, a majority of these incidents are the outcome of someone's dissociation and/or lack of following common safety rules. That makes the targeting impossible to prove unless the perpetrators come out and share how they did it. They do this same thing with people. They program people to drive when fatigued or dissociated, they program people to make autonomic mistakes when handling things like saws or industrial equipment. You may know in your heart that an industrial accident that maimed you was intentional but you'll never be able to prove it. More than likely it will be the case that you were triggered to have an off day and a colleague was programmed to want to distract you with small talk, causing you to briefly forget the safety rules. In effect, they make it "your fault" even though they are the ones who caused your dissociation in the first place.
You can suspect this is the case when you replay the incident over and over thinking "I knew better than that. I never did that in the past." If you are always diligent and one day act out of character and suffer as a result, I would suspect some type of program was running to encourage the accident.
Now, there are obviously the more overt forms of targeting. I can remember as a child when one of the family pets returned to our home with a bullet hole in his neck. That one was obvious especially in the sense that my family typically never allowed this dog to roam the neighborhood unattended. Several years later, he died after we returned home from a long car trip and, fatigued and inattentive, we didn't realize he'd been left in the hot car until it was too late.
In a later incident with another dog, I was put on drugs and forced to shoot an arrow at my border collie. I truly believed I had killed him but was told later that it was staged and one of my handlers had taken the dog for himself. My family, however, spun the perfectly plausible explanation that a farmer across the way had shot him dead for trying to herd his cattle.
As far as more esoteric forms of targeting, I don't believe any of us have the resources to identify it. I remember reading a story about the Bush family in relation to this. George Snr., Barbara and their family pet all came down with Grave's disease within a few months of each other. They knew this was highly unusual and hired someone to test the water at their home, the Whitehouse and a few other locations. They were unable to find any evidence to explain how all three of them came down with the same condition almost at once.
Some would ask "What about EMF targeting?". While certainly possible, what would you do to stop it after ruling out all other possibilities? Certainly you wouldn't want to cover your pets in tinfoil. I think the most any of us can do is love them the best we can while we have them and leave the rest up to God.
Saturday, November 11, 2017
Targeted Car Crashes
Today I want to discuss one of the cruel tactics the CIA uses against targeted individuals: car crashes. Based on what I can remember, I was told that they would be using this tactic against me quite frequently, as well as my friends (many of whom are survivors who aren't aware of the extent of their situations).
These intentional wrecks appear to be achieved by Marionette programming. It is rare that they send someone who is conscious of what they're doing. Instead, the CIA maps out the other T.I.'s they know live in your neighborhood. At some point in each of your lives you will have been separately programmed to go out at the same date and time. You might be on the way to an appointment while the other person is on the way to the store. One or the both of you may be driving while dissociative or angry or intoxicated or sleepy, etc. It will be the mix between the two of you that causes the accident.
The timing, location and impact of the crash are all precisely controlled. They've managed to achieve this by using what's known as The Law of Large Numbers along with a limitless supply of information from insurance adjusters and actuaries. I imagine the planning starts with a conversation similar to this:
CIA Agent: Hey, Bob, what if I needed to send someone a message with a little accident? Let's say I don't want to hurt them real bad, maybe some whiplash or a concussion, or maybe barely a scratch? The ultimate goal is to do some financial damage, though.
Bob: Oh yeah, we learned a lot from the fraudsters. Basically you'll want to keep the impact below 50 mph unless you're really trying to hurt or kill someone. Make sure it's really low speed if it's on a rainy or icy day. These days you can completely total a person's car from the insurance companies' perspective if there's axle damage. A good way to achieve that is by aiming for the wheel and sidelamps with a taller vehicle like a truck.
Etc, etc...All they have to do is program you into the conditions. A favorite one they like to use is getting you or the other person to not notice you still have your turn signal on. This is one reason it's always safer to wait for oncoming traffic to turn, rather than assuming it's a positive turn signal, otherwise they will keep going straight and t-bone your car when you pull out.
I bring this subject up today because it's important and because I'm worried for all of my friends out there. I've had a part come back and tell me not to go on the 400 mile trip I had planned for a friend's 40th birthday. "You don't want to be another one of Barbara Bush's crash test dummies", the voice said. Meanwhile, two close friends have recently posted to Facebook about getting into car accidents this week. One of them was put in the hospital from it and may have had a stroke. I could feel all of this coming because I can recognize people's alters signaling to me. The friend who got put into the hospital had recently posted a new profile picture with all of the elements described to me when my handlers were informing me that she was about to get into a wreck. This alerted me to the fact I'm probably still targeted for another one. Bush wants to completely disable me in terms of transportation and, I'm sure, would love to see me be upside down on one car loan while also having to pay on a new one.
To sum up, it's safer for us T.I.'s to avoid unnecessary trips and avoid driving when we feel we can't put 100% of our attention on the road and other drivers around us. If you have a lengthy commute to work each day, do your best to drive with caution, avoid road rage and avoid speeding and weird maneuvers in your effort not to be late to work. Y'all be careful out there and drive safe!
These intentional wrecks appear to be achieved by Marionette programming. It is rare that they send someone who is conscious of what they're doing. Instead, the CIA maps out the other T.I.'s they know live in your neighborhood. At some point in each of your lives you will have been separately programmed to go out at the same date and time. You might be on the way to an appointment while the other person is on the way to the store. One or the both of you may be driving while dissociative or angry or intoxicated or sleepy, etc. It will be the mix between the two of you that causes the accident.
The timing, location and impact of the crash are all precisely controlled. They've managed to achieve this by using what's known as The Law of Large Numbers along with a limitless supply of information from insurance adjusters and actuaries. I imagine the planning starts with a conversation similar to this:
CIA Agent: Hey, Bob, what if I needed to send someone a message with a little accident? Let's say I don't want to hurt them real bad, maybe some whiplash or a concussion, or maybe barely a scratch? The ultimate goal is to do some financial damage, though.
Bob: Oh yeah, we learned a lot from the fraudsters. Basically you'll want to keep the impact below 50 mph unless you're really trying to hurt or kill someone. Make sure it's really low speed if it's on a rainy or icy day. These days you can completely total a person's car from the insurance companies' perspective if there's axle damage. A good way to achieve that is by aiming for the wheel and sidelamps with a taller vehicle like a truck.
Etc, etc...All they have to do is program you into the conditions. A favorite one they like to use is getting you or the other person to not notice you still have your turn signal on. This is one reason it's always safer to wait for oncoming traffic to turn, rather than assuming it's a positive turn signal, otherwise they will keep going straight and t-bone your car when you pull out.
I bring this subject up today because it's important and because I'm worried for all of my friends out there. I've had a part come back and tell me not to go on the 400 mile trip I had planned for a friend's 40th birthday. "You don't want to be another one of Barbara Bush's crash test dummies", the voice said. Meanwhile, two close friends have recently posted to Facebook about getting into car accidents this week. One of them was put in the hospital from it and may have had a stroke. I could feel all of this coming because I can recognize people's alters signaling to me. The friend who got put into the hospital had recently posted a new profile picture with all of the elements described to me when my handlers were informing me that she was about to get into a wreck. This alerted me to the fact I'm probably still targeted for another one. Bush wants to completely disable me in terms of transportation and, I'm sure, would love to see me be upside down on one car loan while also having to pay on a new one.
To sum up, it's safer for us T.I.'s to avoid unnecessary trips and avoid driving when we feel we can't put 100% of our attention on the road and other drivers around us. If you have a lengthy commute to work each day, do your best to drive with caution, avoid road rage and avoid speeding and weird maneuvers in your effort not to be late to work. Y'all be careful out there and drive safe!
Friday, November 10, 2017
Manipulation of Care Providers
I'm going to discuss the struggles that face us all when choosing doctors and therapists. The fact is that we do need them in order to battle our deterioration. Many providers, however, are compromised whether they realize it or not and many are D.I.D. whether they realize it or not. Does this have to block us, though? Do we have to give up? No. Whether we are conscious of our memories of interacting with these providers in the cult, there is still a way to get the most we can from being their clients.
My situation may be unusual or you may find it echoes your own experience, but I will tell you what I know about how things are set up. My handlers described it as "being in an HMO network from hell". What does this mean? Well, first off, it means that if my family's resources and choices are controlled and I am reliant on them, then my resources and choices are controlled as well. The handlers already sat down and thought about this and knew that the most logical and affordable choice in my dad's mind for group insurance within the business he owns would be Blue Cross Blue Shield of Texas.
Knowing this, they were able to go out and scout other Monarchs who were programmed to become doctors and therapists. Not just a handful but the dozens who would be good enough at their jobs to be the ones recommended based on my insurance. They went so deep with it that I would literally have to switch plans and networks to find someone uncompromised, and even then it might not matter. I don't know if you've ever had to scroll through a provider list and go "Ok, now I remember this one. He didn't seem to want to hurt me, but it's a weird memory. Also he's 60 miles away. This one that's closer and so convenient is the one who seemed like he didn't mind what he was doing to me at the time." And I'd keep searching. Fragment. Fragment. Fragment. Who in this network is good enough for me and was never a perp, involuntary or otherwise?"
Then I also had to ask myself: Does it matter if they don't remember? Well, in a way it does. There's not a one of them that hasn't shown me their alters.
Back when I was still amnesic I had a therapist and psychiatrist who were heavily connected to my early memories of the cult abuse. The female therapist I had in Austin had been forced to perpetrate against me under the influence of drugs when I was about 7 or 8. She was also forced *when she was actively my therapist* to bear witness to the cult accessing me. There is no denying that this dynamic affected the therapeutic relationship. She both helped and harmed depending on which part of me you asked. She helped me in the sense that I enjoyed talking to her. I liked her. She was witty and smart. She urged me to learn how to ground myself. She emphasized the value of asking questions and not just taking things for face value. But she also kept me in place through her own amnesia or unwillingness to speak of her experience of watching me get electrocuted and raped.
I believe I was around 25 at the time. They had forced her out of her home and had her waiting for me along with several other group members in my apartment. They made her stand on the other side of a wall while my handlers shocked me with a cattle prod. After hearing my screams for a few moments, I saw her racing to the door in tears saying "I can't handle this." My handlers said "What a piece of shit, huh. Now she's going to go on vacation for 2 weeks after this and leave you without a therapist and she's not going to remember any of it when she gets back."
Contrast this to my first few psychiatrists who sexually assaulted me as a teenager, then were forced to talk to me about how we'd interact when I came to them in my 20's. One of them seemed to imply that just because the relationship was tainted didn't mean that their expertise was wrong. The psychiatrist urged me to work with him regardless. He said he knew enough about pharmacology to manage the neurological aspects of the program and could keep me from going into a very dark place. If I were grading him today I would agree that he did just enough. As much as he pissed me off, I'd still have to say that he along with my therapist got me through some serious bull for the decade or so I worked with them. I believe my therapist was blocking things out while my psychiatrist knew more than he let on. But I have my moments of anger I'd like to express to both of them if ever given the chance. I would like to explain to them how much this whole situation just sucks and is beyond diabolical. But I sometimes wonder if they already know that. Maybe they would say "Josh we already know". Maybe they mirrored my parents in that way.
Here's the weird part. I didn't start to recover my memories about these two individuals until after I'd woken up and left Austin. So, they had managed me for about 13 years total while I lived there. The psychiatrist, who happened to also be a specialist in forensic psychiatry, was forced to bring who I assume was one of his children up to my current home during another cult access and evaluate my psyche based on whether I gave up and became a perp or did something else. I definitely did something else. It was a young boy they wanted me to abuse. I refused and reached over and twisted his neck so that he had whiplash that required medical attention. That act got me out of it. Thank God! But at the same time Jesus Christ! I know I was trained how to twist his neck so that I wouldn't kill him or severely injure him. And that says something. It says they couldn't stop the scenario from running, they could only program me and probably the kid, too, to make sure the outcome was different.
What kills me is that situations like that have been common in my life. It takes a tremendous amount of energy to recall that it has happened to me and then also realize that the other people being victimized around me feel like my responsibility while I'm helpless to do anything. See, my wake up and memory recovery started in Austin. I moved back home expecting to make good changes as a result, which I did. But at the same time, just as old amnesia walls were coming down, a few more were erected in 2011 and 2012. That's when the trauma with the young boy occurred.
After that happened, another alter took over to lead me to where I am now. I had to do a lot of sewing together of memories to get here. Oddly enough, that connects to another fragment. I can remember my old psychiatrist saying "If you say you had to do a lot of sewing of memories to get to get to where you are now, then you are a pedophile."
I had something else written but what you are about to see below is something else he talked about. I just spent the past 20 minutes trying to fix it to no avail. He talked about this blog. He tried to tie the perpetrator thing to HTML errors. Oh, if you get all these errors on your blog, it's because you're a pervert. Give me an actual friggin break, dude. I could have your license revoked in a heartbeat based on 1990 alone. Be glad that I kind of liked you. Oh wait, now that I wrote that, all the errors are gone and so is what I wrote, which is like telling me that my words were messed up on purpose to shut me up. What was so bad about what I had written? All I said is that what the group does is tie every waking moment of waking up from Marionette programming to their ultimate agenda. To use people's PTSD against them and convince them that they must themselves be willing perpetrators to feel any anxiety about memory recovery.
Moving forward, once I started looking for therapists in my new location I was not immediately aware of how things were set up until one particular psychologist I went to started to feel familiar to me. It didn't take more than a few sessions to realize she was someone who had sexually assaulted me somewhere around the age of 10 or younger. She didn't seem like someone who would've done it on purpose but since I couldn't bring it up in the first place, it didn't matter. I also didn't feel like she was helping me that much. I terminated after a few sessions and continued searching.
I started by consulting the provider directory provided by my insurance. As I scrolled through the list of highly rated people who were both close enough to me and specialized in what I needed, I was horrified to discover that I had memory fragments related to every single one of them. I tried and tried to beat that but I couldn't. I finally got to the point to where I had to say "I just don't care anymore. It's in the past". Fine. Let any old ass bandit take the wheel. Let's drive off the cliff together, what the fuck do I care, it looks like I'm dead either way.
So that's what I did. I went from one shrink to the next and recovered my memories about them, got what I could professionally from them, and then terminated. I did this up until I felt like I'd had a breakthrough and found a place that was totally new and unspoiled. Until I went there. Then I found out that it wasn't. Here was a new round of female perps. Yet, from what I could recall, they were just as much victims as I was, so that made it easier to just put it in the past to a degree. But it's still not perfect. I still can't leave a session with my current therapist without thinking about what we went through together and without noticing which of her alters came out during session. She says things that I knew she would say as a triggered response to what I bring up. It makes me questions what we're doing and makes me pay more attention to keeping quiet about what I know than focusing on myself.
And what I've written here so far is probably just the half of it or so. My new psychiatrist is someone I also recognize and he also is saying things that seem programmed from the past and I am supposed to sit around playing the good patient and medical dummy and keep my mouth shut, otherwise, I guess I can move on to being treated by yet another cult doctor. I don't blame him but I do blame the set up. If I ever get my story out there publicly in a way where there's evidence, I promise some heads are going to roll.
That said, and I'll write more about this later, if you need help just go to who you can stand to go to. This is about tolerance and not love when you are in survival mode. If they don't bring it up and don't act sketchy, then just act like a normal patient. Get what you need and get out.
My situation may be unusual or you may find it echoes your own experience, but I will tell you what I know about how things are set up. My handlers described it as "being in an HMO network from hell". What does this mean? Well, first off, it means that if my family's resources and choices are controlled and I am reliant on them, then my resources and choices are controlled as well. The handlers already sat down and thought about this and knew that the most logical and affordable choice in my dad's mind for group insurance within the business he owns would be Blue Cross Blue Shield of Texas.
Knowing this, they were able to go out and scout other Monarchs who were programmed to become doctors and therapists. Not just a handful but the dozens who would be good enough at their jobs to be the ones recommended based on my insurance. They went so deep with it that I would literally have to switch plans and networks to find someone uncompromised, and even then it might not matter. I don't know if you've ever had to scroll through a provider list and go "Ok, now I remember this one. He didn't seem to want to hurt me, but it's a weird memory. Also he's 60 miles away. This one that's closer and so convenient is the one who seemed like he didn't mind what he was doing to me at the time." And I'd keep searching. Fragment. Fragment. Fragment. Who in this network is good enough for me and was never a perp, involuntary or otherwise?"
Then I also had to ask myself: Does it matter if they don't remember? Well, in a way it does. There's not a one of them that hasn't shown me their alters.
Back when I was still amnesic I had a therapist and psychiatrist who were heavily connected to my early memories of the cult abuse. The female therapist I had in Austin had been forced to perpetrate against me under the influence of drugs when I was about 7 or 8. She was also forced *when she was actively my therapist* to bear witness to the cult accessing me. There is no denying that this dynamic affected the therapeutic relationship. She both helped and harmed depending on which part of me you asked. She helped me in the sense that I enjoyed talking to her. I liked her. She was witty and smart. She urged me to learn how to ground myself. She emphasized the value of asking questions and not just taking things for face value. But she also kept me in place through her own amnesia or unwillingness to speak of her experience of watching me get electrocuted and raped.
I believe I was around 25 at the time. They had forced her out of her home and had her waiting for me along with several other group members in my apartment. They made her stand on the other side of a wall while my handlers shocked me with a cattle prod. After hearing my screams for a few moments, I saw her racing to the door in tears saying "I can't handle this." My handlers said "What a piece of shit, huh. Now she's going to go on vacation for 2 weeks after this and leave you without a therapist and she's not going to remember any of it when she gets back."
Contrast this to my first few psychiatrists who sexually assaulted me as a teenager, then were forced to talk to me about how we'd interact when I came to them in my 20's. One of them seemed to imply that just because the relationship was tainted didn't mean that their expertise was wrong. The psychiatrist urged me to work with him regardless. He said he knew enough about pharmacology to manage the neurological aspects of the program and could keep me from going into a very dark place. If I were grading him today I would agree that he did just enough. As much as he pissed me off, I'd still have to say that he along with my therapist got me through some serious bull for the decade or so I worked with them. I believe my therapist was blocking things out while my psychiatrist knew more than he let on. But I have my moments of anger I'd like to express to both of them if ever given the chance. I would like to explain to them how much this whole situation just sucks and is beyond diabolical. But I sometimes wonder if they already know that. Maybe they would say "Josh we already know". Maybe they mirrored my parents in that way.
Here's the weird part. I didn't start to recover my memories about these two individuals until after I'd woken up and left Austin. So, they had managed me for about 13 years total while I lived there. The psychiatrist, who happened to also be a specialist in forensic psychiatry, was forced to bring who I assume was one of his children up to my current home during another cult access and evaluate my psyche based on whether I gave up and became a perp or did something else. I definitely did something else. It was a young boy they wanted me to abuse. I refused and reached over and twisted his neck so that he had whiplash that required medical attention. That act got me out of it. Thank God! But at the same time Jesus Christ! I know I was trained how to twist his neck so that I wouldn't kill him or severely injure him. And that says something. It says they couldn't stop the scenario from running, they could only program me and probably the kid, too, to make sure the outcome was different.
What kills me is that situations like that have been common in my life. It takes a tremendous amount of energy to recall that it has happened to me and then also realize that the other people being victimized around me feel like my responsibility while I'm helpless to do anything. See, my wake up and memory recovery started in Austin. I moved back home expecting to make good changes as a result, which I did. But at the same time, just as old amnesia walls were coming down, a few more were erected in 2011 and 2012. That's when the trauma with the young boy occurred.
After that happened, another alter took over to lead me to where I am now. I had to do a lot of sewing together of memories to get here. Oddly enough, that connects to another fragment. I can remember my old psychiatrist saying "If you say you had to do a lot of sewing of memories to get to get to where you are now, then you are a pedophile."
I had something else written but what you are about to see below is something else he talked about. I just spent the past 20 minutes trying to fix it to no avail. He talked about this blog. He tried to tie the perpetrator thing to HTML errors. Oh, if you get all these errors on your blog, it's because you're a pervert. Give me an actual friggin break, dude. I could have your license revoked in a heartbeat based on 1990 alone. Be glad that I kind of liked you. Oh wait, now that I wrote that, all the errors are gone and so is what I wrote, which is like telling me that my words were messed up on purpose to shut me up. What was so bad about what I had written? All I said is that what the group does is tie every waking moment of waking up from Marionette programming to their ultimate agenda. To use people's PTSD against them and convince them that they must themselves be willing perpetrators to feel any anxiety about memory recovery.
Moving forward, once I started looking for therapists in my new location I was not immediately aware of how things were set up until one particular psychologist I went to started to feel familiar to me. It didn't take more than a few sessions to realize she was someone who had sexually assaulted me somewhere around the age of 10 or younger. She didn't seem like someone who would've done it on purpose but since I couldn't bring it up in the first place, it didn't matter. I also didn't feel like she was helping me that much. I terminated after a few sessions and continued searching.
I started by consulting the provider directory provided by my insurance. As I scrolled through the list of highly rated people who were both close enough to me and specialized in what I needed, I was horrified to discover that I had memory fragments related to every single one of them. I tried and tried to beat that but I couldn't. I finally got to the point to where I had to say "I just don't care anymore. It's in the past". Fine. Let any old ass bandit take the wheel. Let's drive off the cliff together, what the fuck do I care, it looks like I'm dead either way.
So that's what I did. I went from one shrink to the next and recovered my memories about them, got what I could professionally from them, and then terminated. I did this up until I felt like I'd had a breakthrough and found a place that was totally new and unspoiled. Until I went there. Then I found out that it wasn't. Here was a new round of female perps. Yet, from what I could recall, they were just as much victims as I was, so that made it easier to just put it in the past to a degree. But it's still not perfect. I still can't leave a session with my current therapist without thinking about what we went through together and without noticing which of her alters came out during session. She says things that I knew she would say as a triggered response to what I bring up. It makes me questions what we're doing and makes me pay more attention to keeping quiet about what I know than focusing on myself.
And what I've written here so far is probably just the half of it or so. My new psychiatrist is someone I also recognize and he also is saying things that seem programmed from the past and I am supposed to sit around playing the good patient and medical dummy and keep my mouth shut, otherwise, I guess I can move on to being treated by yet another cult doctor. I don't blame him but I do blame the set up. If I ever get my story out there publicly in a way where there's evidence, I promise some heads are going to roll.
That said, and I'll write more about this later, if you need help just go to who you can stand to go to. This is about tolerance and not love when you are in survival mode. If they don't bring it up and don't act sketchy, then just act like a normal patient. Get what you need and get out.
Monday, November 6, 2017
Misuse of Therapy Continued....
Building on yesterdays' post which you can find here: Misuse of Therapy
Trauma Resolution Therapy had the effect of making me worse overall. Each time I would do the journal homework, I'd find myself asking questions about the memories. For instance, I'd realize a memory was incomplete and start asking myself questions. My mind was more than willing to provide the answer and open up brand new cans of emotional worms that impacted my mood to the point I could no longer focus on resolving the trauma of the preceding fragment. Just a chain reaction of spinning and flooding.
I lasted about 6 months trying to give this the old college try and finally determined that I was correct in my assessment of the harm of the process. I terminated with that therapist and decided to take some time off before trying to find a new one. It gets very old going from one therapist to the next and having to tell one's story all over again. I will say that there are some benefits to that, though. It did force me to self-edit and streamline the way I presented in session as time progressed.
And that was a good thing because it wasn't long until I found myself desperate for help again. The increased memory flooding continued despite leaving treatment. I ended up in yet another traditional talk therapy situation with a therapist I really liked but I felt like our sessions weren't doing enough to get at what I really wanted: a way to stop the flooding. She'd suggested I try to be more socially active and I tried to explain to her that it was difficult because every place I'd gone lately seemed to trigger me and because I also didn't know how to put on a happy face and hang out with complete strangers and actually get anything out of it.
But I suspect that was an attitude I'd been driven towards up to the time I started working with her and she was actually right about it even if I was also right in assuming that any new social group I tried would be chosen by an alter that would not allow me awareness of what triggers would be present. But she just didn't know how to address my awareness of encountering past perpetrators and bad memories at literally every single place I tried to go. My whole town and beyond is contaminated in this way and I was just too exhausted to deal with disappointment of having yet another attempt at getting some relief turn into another recovery of a memory fragment.
I explained this to her and suggested that maybe I should try a different treatment approach like EMDR. Maybe something like that would help me just not worry as much about it? Maybe I could get past feeling too sensitized to the stimulus? She said she had been thinking about that as well but that she wasn't certified to practice it and it would take her several months to get certified. However, there was a colleague at the practice who was already doing it and I was welcome to see her if I "didn't mind switching". Famous last words!
Not just switching from one therapist to another but switching control from one alter to another. I think all of my therapists are DID themselves and don't realize what they're doing, but if I'd paid attention to that possibility at the time, I might have just stayed with her and worked on getting out more and processing my frustrations with programmed social experiences.
But I didn't. And I know why now. It's my 16 year old again. It didn't take long once I started with her to start to recover the road hypnosis statements made about her. We barely made it through the first few EMDR sessions before we had to stop. I had started to recover the memory of one of my handlers using EMDR techniques to program me at one point and said something about it to her. To her credit, she stopped that approach and consulted a colleague. She decided we should talk more and for her to learn more about me. We've been doing that ever since. Maybe EMDR would've been fine after that first memory or maybe it would've had the same effect as TRT. Who knows?
The point of all this, I hope, is just to share how bad things can get for some of us in terms of how we're controlled. I haven't even touched yet on the fact that all of these therapists, including the one I used to see when I was still amnesic, had been forced to be involved in compromising situations with me in the past, and I also had to deal with my memory fragments about them while in session. That may end up being a topic for another post. I hope this and the previous post shed some light on some things for people. Once I've had time to think about it I will try to write a post that summarizes what I believe are important steps to take and questions to ask when searching for a therapist and evaluating how the therapeutic relationship is or isn't working for you. Peace.
Trauma Resolution Therapy had the effect of making me worse overall. Each time I would do the journal homework, I'd find myself asking questions about the memories. For instance, I'd realize a memory was incomplete and start asking myself questions. My mind was more than willing to provide the answer and open up brand new cans of emotional worms that impacted my mood to the point I could no longer focus on resolving the trauma of the preceding fragment. Just a chain reaction of spinning and flooding.
I lasted about 6 months trying to give this the old college try and finally determined that I was correct in my assessment of the harm of the process. I terminated with that therapist and decided to take some time off before trying to find a new one. It gets very old going from one therapist to the next and having to tell one's story all over again. I will say that there are some benefits to that, though. It did force me to self-edit and streamline the way I presented in session as time progressed.
And that was a good thing because it wasn't long until I found myself desperate for help again. The increased memory flooding continued despite leaving treatment. I ended up in yet another traditional talk therapy situation with a therapist I really liked but I felt like our sessions weren't doing enough to get at what I really wanted: a way to stop the flooding. She'd suggested I try to be more socially active and I tried to explain to her that it was difficult because every place I'd gone lately seemed to trigger me and because I also didn't know how to put on a happy face and hang out with complete strangers and actually get anything out of it.
But I suspect that was an attitude I'd been driven towards up to the time I started working with her and she was actually right about it even if I was also right in assuming that any new social group I tried would be chosen by an alter that would not allow me awareness of what triggers would be present. But she just didn't know how to address my awareness of encountering past perpetrators and bad memories at literally every single place I tried to go. My whole town and beyond is contaminated in this way and I was just too exhausted to deal with disappointment of having yet another attempt at getting some relief turn into another recovery of a memory fragment.
I explained this to her and suggested that maybe I should try a different treatment approach like EMDR. Maybe something like that would help me just not worry as much about it? Maybe I could get past feeling too sensitized to the stimulus? She said she had been thinking about that as well but that she wasn't certified to practice it and it would take her several months to get certified. However, there was a colleague at the practice who was already doing it and I was welcome to see her if I "didn't mind switching". Famous last words!
Not just switching from one therapist to another but switching control from one alter to another. I think all of my therapists are DID themselves and don't realize what they're doing, but if I'd paid attention to that possibility at the time, I might have just stayed with her and worked on getting out more and processing my frustrations with programmed social experiences.
But I didn't. And I know why now. It's my 16 year old again. It didn't take long once I started with her to start to recover the road hypnosis statements made about her. We barely made it through the first few EMDR sessions before we had to stop. I had started to recover the memory of one of my handlers using EMDR techniques to program me at one point and said something about it to her. To her credit, she stopped that approach and consulted a colleague. She decided we should talk more and for her to learn more about me. We've been doing that ever since. Maybe EMDR would've been fine after that first memory or maybe it would've had the same effect as TRT. Who knows?
The point of all this, I hope, is just to share how bad things can get for some of us in terms of how we're controlled. I haven't even touched yet on the fact that all of these therapists, including the one I used to see when I was still amnesic, had been forced to be involved in compromising situations with me in the past, and I also had to deal with my memory fragments about them while in session. That may end up being a topic for another post. I hope this and the previous post shed some light on some things for people. Once I've had time to think about it I will try to write a post that summarizes what I believe are important steps to take and questions to ask when searching for a therapist and evaluating how the therapeutic relationship is or isn't working for you. Peace.
Sunday, November 5, 2017
Misuse of Therapy Techniques in Programming and Deprogramming
I know this is going to be a long post, so please check back every few days since I will be writing it a piece at a time as I cover each type of therapy and how it was used on me. I won't be able to finish the entire subject in one sitting but it's too important not to get some of the information out there.
What got me to start the process that led me to where I am now? A 16 year old alter. This 16 year old alter was put under road hypnosis while being told in very clinical terms that the group wondered whether I could be "fixed" after going through what I went through. They told me how survivors tend to relive their traumas and that it was a "question" for them as to whether we hadn't been "traumatized enough". They described a modified form of prolonged exposure therapy (something the VA even uses with vets for PTSD and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) that would have me act out my past and my programming in a different way.
Sounds good on the surface but the experience looked to everyone else like a psychotic break. Once it started, I felt like I couldn't stop it. That's why I started seeking other modes of therapy. I really wanted to find someone who does DBT but they seemed few and far between. I went through a series of therapists and finally found one who seemed to at least understand trauma as well as co-occurring disorders like Asperger's. My nephew had attended group sessions at his office to help with his social skills. He seemed trustworthy and qualified enough.
The type of therapy he wanted to do with me was called TRT or Trauma Resolution Therapy. It involved choosing just one area at a time to work on - ie, one abuser at a time - which felt very hard to me since it all seemed intertwined and connected. I was asked to think about what I would call the top ten bad memories of one abuser, then write about them in as much detail as possible in a journal. After that, I was to read the entries to the therapist outloud and pay attention to any feelings or thoughts coming up. We'd discuss them, then he would do the next phase. Each memory had to be narrowed down to its key traumatizing parts and put into a grid that categorized what the experience said to me about myself, the abuser, other people, life, etc.
As we went along I found that the journaling was bringing back more than I could contain and making sobriety very difficult. The therapist's attitude about this was not helpful. He didn't understand why I expected not to feel pain. I said that wasn't it. it was just that this was so much and too much. I was already drinking and this was making it worse. He didn't get it.
I finally told him that I couldn't do it anymore, I needed a break. I was hoping it would stop the flood of details I'd opened up. It didn't. Instead, it was like it retrained my mind to recognize which fragments would open up whole new uncharted territories. Pardon my French here, but son of a bitch!
I'll elaborate on this tomorrow and also address other therapies they misused.
What got me to start the process that led me to where I am now? A 16 year old alter. This 16 year old alter was put under road hypnosis while being told in very clinical terms that the group wondered whether I could be "fixed" after going through what I went through. They told me how survivors tend to relive their traumas and that it was a "question" for them as to whether we hadn't been "traumatized enough". They described a modified form of prolonged exposure therapy (something the VA even uses with vets for PTSD and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) that would have me act out my past and my programming in a different way.
Sounds good on the surface but the experience looked to everyone else like a psychotic break. Once it started, I felt like I couldn't stop it. That's why I started seeking other modes of therapy. I really wanted to find someone who does DBT but they seemed few and far between. I went through a series of therapists and finally found one who seemed to at least understand trauma as well as co-occurring disorders like Asperger's. My nephew had attended group sessions at his office to help with his social skills. He seemed trustworthy and qualified enough.
The type of therapy he wanted to do with me was called TRT or Trauma Resolution Therapy. It involved choosing just one area at a time to work on - ie, one abuser at a time - which felt very hard to me since it all seemed intertwined and connected. I was asked to think about what I would call the top ten bad memories of one abuser, then write about them in as much detail as possible in a journal. After that, I was to read the entries to the therapist outloud and pay attention to any feelings or thoughts coming up. We'd discuss them, then he would do the next phase. Each memory had to be narrowed down to its key traumatizing parts and put into a grid that categorized what the experience said to me about myself, the abuser, other people, life, etc.
As we went along I found that the journaling was bringing back more than I could contain and making sobriety very difficult. The therapist's attitude about this was not helpful. He didn't understand why I expected not to feel pain. I said that wasn't it. it was just that this was so much and too much. I was already drinking and this was making it worse. He didn't get it.
I finally told him that I couldn't do it anymore, I needed a break. I was hoping it would stop the flood of details I'd opened up. It didn't. Instead, it was like it retrained my mind to recognize which fragments would open up whole new uncharted territories. Pardon my French here, but son of a bitch!
I'll elaborate on this tomorrow and also address other therapies they misused.
Turning it Around
Still dealing with emotional pain manifesting in my body today. I've been working several hours to contain it. I have had the following thoughts..
1. What I'm telling myself about it contributes to how I feel.
2. What I'm really wanting is what I would imagine to be the pain relief of partially 'going back to sleep' without having to be traumatized to do it and without having to lose consciousness, because there's no way I'd ever want remembering to go like this again.
3. I need to imagine a happier future and start thinking about what it would look like for us isolated survivors to suddenly have the love of the whole world on our side.
There has to be a way to blend what I've recovered into a routine that is closer to the mindset of that version of me that is happier, healthier and more functional. My inner optimist is not a liar. My inner optimist is a survivor. But being an optimist is also why some things have hurt more. I know that I'm right to have hope, it's just that I never realized how easy a target that made me. They used hope to trigger me in the first place. They used it to get me to the point I needed to be at to avoid another assault. Now they're punishing me for beating them.
And that was easy since they had used my fear alter, mixed with hope, to drive me through the past 7 years. And once I get that activated for that long, it is really hard to go back to my normal resting state, but I'm trying as hard as I can.
I can see one reason this is so hard, though. I can see it just by starting at all the different buttons available when composing a blog post. I'm reminded of how I've used this platform before for entirely different reasons. I used to be self-employed as a writer and web designer. I worked with people who owned Internet based businesses. Mostly I worked with affiliate marketers who needed me to write "how to" ebooks on starting home based businesses based on making commissions off of online products.
One of the guys I worked for had made himself millions at it. I always wanted to do the same thing but had so much difficulty doing it for myself. I could write about it easily but struggled to apply it for a lot of reasons. If I think back on that time from my 20's and 30's, I can certainly see why the repeated traumas I was forced to bury would have a negative impact on my attempts to achieve greater financial independence.
Now I'm in a similar place for a variation on this reason: they're done accessing me physically and instead relying on the flood of memories to bring me down. I always ask why they've done it this way. They always said it's serious and better that you don't know, but then that very idea sets off the childhood programming where everything was of the utmost urgency and I had no clue who I really am.
And that's what's hard. It's hard to have a functioning self and also have parts that went through so much trauma and have continued to have to go through trauma, along with an activation program, and then be left to sit around going "Ok, I finally made it through everything they told me about 26 years ago. I transitioned and got the right surgeries done to prevent them from raping me again, so why am I not programmed to have a good life after that? Why not just say bye'?"
I feel like I'm the guy who got left behind after the battlefield skirmish who is waiting for the rescue helicopter to come back. I feel like a teenager tossed out on the street without so much as a how do you do. I feel like I'm becoming more elderly by the day yet have never 100% grown up or truly lived like a normal person. But I know that can't all be true. There's nothing wrong with happy me. A lot of people don't understand what it means to survive a criminal cartel. They scream at us to wake up and do something about it. That's what I used to scream at my family. They would have if they could have. I believe that.
But since it sounded like nothing could be done for a very long time, I don't think I had a choice. I don't think they gave me a choice. They gave me the illusion of a choice at one time, then covered that up, too. This is starting to sound a lot more clandestine and weird than I realized. I'm also seeing just how merciless it is, though I don't think I'll take the time to explain why now. It would take a bit and this is already a long post! All for now ****
1. What I'm telling myself about it contributes to how I feel.
2. What I'm really wanting is what I would imagine to be the pain relief of partially 'going back to sleep' without having to be traumatized to do it and without having to lose consciousness, because there's no way I'd ever want remembering to go like this again.
3. I need to imagine a happier future and start thinking about what it would look like for us isolated survivors to suddenly have the love of the whole world on our side.
There has to be a way to blend what I've recovered into a routine that is closer to the mindset of that version of me that is happier, healthier and more functional. My inner optimist is not a liar. My inner optimist is a survivor. But being an optimist is also why some things have hurt more. I know that I'm right to have hope, it's just that I never realized how easy a target that made me. They used hope to trigger me in the first place. They used it to get me to the point I needed to be at to avoid another assault. Now they're punishing me for beating them.
And that was easy since they had used my fear alter, mixed with hope, to drive me through the past 7 years. And once I get that activated for that long, it is really hard to go back to my normal resting state, but I'm trying as hard as I can.
I can see one reason this is so hard, though. I can see it just by starting at all the different buttons available when composing a blog post. I'm reminded of how I've used this platform before for entirely different reasons. I used to be self-employed as a writer and web designer. I worked with people who owned Internet based businesses. Mostly I worked with affiliate marketers who needed me to write "how to" ebooks on starting home based businesses based on making commissions off of online products.
One of the guys I worked for had made himself millions at it. I always wanted to do the same thing but had so much difficulty doing it for myself. I could write about it easily but struggled to apply it for a lot of reasons. If I think back on that time from my 20's and 30's, I can certainly see why the repeated traumas I was forced to bury would have a negative impact on my attempts to achieve greater financial independence.
Now I'm in a similar place for a variation on this reason: they're done accessing me physically and instead relying on the flood of memories to bring me down. I always ask why they've done it this way. They always said it's serious and better that you don't know, but then that very idea sets off the childhood programming where everything was of the utmost urgency and I had no clue who I really am.
And that's what's hard. It's hard to have a functioning self and also have parts that went through so much trauma and have continued to have to go through trauma, along with an activation program, and then be left to sit around going "Ok, I finally made it through everything they told me about 26 years ago. I transitioned and got the right surgeries done to prevent them from raping me again, so why am I not programmed to have a good life after that? Why not just say bye'?"
I feel like I'm the guy who got left behind after the battlefield skirmish who is waiting for the rescue helicopter to come back. I feel like a teenager tossed out on the street without so much as a how do you do. I feel like I'm becoming more elderly by the day yet have never 100% grown up or truly lived like a normal person. But I know that can't all be true. There's nothing wrong with happy me. A lot of people don't understand what it means to survive a criminal cartel. They scream at us to wake up and do something about it. That's what I used to scream at my family. They would have if they could have. I believe that.
But since it sounded like nothing could be done for a very long time, I don't think I had a choice. I don't think they gave me a choice. They gave me the illusion of a choice at one time, then covered that up, too. This is starting to sound a lot more clandestine and weird than I realized. I'm also seeing just how merciless it is, though I don't think I'll take the time to explain why now. It would take a bit and this is already a long post! All for now ****
Saturday, November 4, 2017
Dealing with Alters
Boy is this stuff hard. Just when I think I've figured things out.....
I had updated and shared my blog with two survivors yesterday. I did it a bit impulsively and am not sure I was ready to process their reactions. As one of them jokingly told me "It's like one of your alters had just had enough."
This is true. I have had so much "don't talk" programming that it has made it really hard just meeting my fellow survivors again. For whatever reason I was programmed to remember more or at least believe that I do. I feel like I was told a story about all of us. The way it was presented to me was that I would be recovering more memories whether I wanted to or not just by meeting these people again online.
Why would I subject myself to that? Because I'd already spent 5+ years having to deal with recovery in total silence. I felt like I had to reach out, that I had to try talking and sharing. I came to a point where some part of me had "had enough" of being left out and alone. That's why when I recognized people from their YouTube videos I started emailing them to see if we could help each other somehow.
At first, a lot of the people I met just kept things casual. They'd share videos, music, news, etc. Sometimes what they shared ended up being one of the mnemonics or triggers that related to things I was programmed to remember. But these people didn't know that they were doing it. You see, my handlers were so specific about things they made it to where I could be triggered just by seeing someone post about their love of Hawaiin coffee if it happened at a particular time and was done by the right trigger puller.
I believe I have what you could call a robot or computer alter that is based on YouTube and other types of content databases. I don't know why I am so impressionable but I am. I may not have the info when I'm in my day self unless I know to look for it. If you press the right button my mind just suddenly goes "Sept. 16, 1984. You were wearing Crocs. I don't even think those were out then so I don't know where you got them; but it had to be 1984 because we were going to see Ghostbusters in an actual theater and then on Monday I went to school and that's that grade we all remembered where Mrs. SoandSo went apeshit and lost all her marbles that day when Kenny called her a cheddar whale."
I don't know how it works. My handlers called it "eidetic memory" but I still don't really understand what that means. It sounds insane on the face of it.
Anyways, I was handling my reactions with some difficulty. Some days were ok then I felt like I got sideswiped and I couldn't always identify the source. But that started to change when I met this latest group of people I have a more communicative relationship with so far. I won't say their names unless they ask me to edit them in later, but they know who they are.
They both have their battles right now but one is more public about them. The one who is more public is the one I had the most "don't talk" programming done about, while the other one I was told to talk to freely and that she could help me decide what to do and how to process it. As I've bounced between the experience of relating to each of them as individuals I feel like they are somehow blending some of my alters into a better place but I'm starting to worry if they are now paying a price for that?
Am I helping or hurting? It's complicated. The one who wants all of her memories back is the one I was programmed not to talk to. When I first recognized her and started dealing with that aspect of things it was clear that she didn't remember me. I thought our new online friendship was going to be like all the rest. That I would experience whatever triggers are left from the programming done during the times I remember her, all the pains, all the stings, and that she probably wouldn't react.
Well, the more I watched her posts and videos from the time we became Facebook friends, the more I was remembering about her and what we had been through together. I couldn't tell if I was just showing up at "the right time" or if the simple act of meeting me had set off a program. All I knew was that it was like I was seeing the alter from 1990 speaking through her, but they are so close to each other, they aren't really separate. I feel like our core selves went through this together.
And, quite frankly, it was starting to make me mental. Maybe I was processing my own pain. Of course I am. That was a dumb thing to say. I was reliving it. But I was also watching her processing it. I don't know how she woke up exactly or what the background of the whole story is, I just knew I remembered her and recognized what they've programmed. They're putting her through the same thing as me.
So it's like my 16 year old part is the one who has been watching this whole time. I think I just now figured that out. I've been watching her when she's feeling down, angry, scared, over it. I think about our experience together, I think about my own life story, I wonder about hers. I don't know how to piece it together, I only know they made this feel like a very big deal to me.
But I didn't want to be wrong about sharing. So I kept keeping it to myself up until one video she posted where she was really suffering and all of her suffering seemed connected in my mind to them forcing her to relive some aspects of what we went through together. I still didn't know if it was my fault or if it would come up anyways. But it seemed like it was just coming up in body memories and mood states for her rather than recovering images or words from the events.
And that made it look to me like she was having to feel all of this without knowing where it came from. And I started to question whether telling her everything I knew would put a stop to that pain. Several times I cried myself to sleep and felt like the biggest jerk in the world. I'm crying again as I write this because I'm feeling that way again.
Why?
Well, I had reached my limit a second time. I thought some things might change once we started talking but it seems like I might have set her off again. She had started to recover a drawing and I could tell my alters knew something about it and they were very upset watching her have such a hard time sharing it. This is something that goes into a whole other level of programming they do on the artistically and spiritually gifted. When I saw her having to deal with it, too, some part said "That is freaking it! I'm done with these people!"
So there I went again barfing everything I thought I knew onto my blog. And when she read it, it turns out that I have still triggered her emotionally. And I am just going to be honest here and say I don't have any idea what I'm doing and at the same time I do. I'm being taught a lesson about boundaries. One I thought I already knew. One that points out the cruelty of the programming. That rule is: this stuff is really not easily dealt with over the Internet with relative strangers.
And that's the key. We don't really know each other. We didn't go to school together. We didn't party together or hang out at each other's houses growing up or later. We were perfect strangers who went through something so intimate and painful at once that it's hard to just be Internet friends and post about these things on blogs. What kind of a jerk move was that? If it weren't for my own selfish need to relieve my own pain maybe I could've waited a few years and some day paid a visit to these friends. I could have bought them dinner and we could all talk at random. Here's a memory, yeah, but here's an even funnier joke.
That would be so much funner and healthier but that's not what they program us for. Instead, they isolate us and have us hunt each other down like emotional prey. I think I've written all this to figure out whether to back off, how to proceed, etc. The person I'm talking about mentioned her experience of going through a type of Wizard of Oz programming (which is one of my main themes, too) and how that connects to heart programming.
Suddenly it all made sense. When I was 16, they ripped my heart out about her while torturing the both of us. Now I'm reliving it because my don't talk programming is the thing that frustrated me to the point of reaching out in the first place. It all just goes around in a circle and I am over it. I can never seem to be mad or sad enough on anyone's behalf for it to really help but I just want all of you to know I love you! We have to get through this for a reason and we will.
I had updated and shared my blog with two survivors yesterday. I did it a bit impulsively and am not sure I was ready to process their reactions. As one of them jokingly told me "It's like one of your alters had just had enough."
This is true. I have had so much "don't talk" programming that it has made it really hard just meeting my fellow survivors again. For whatever reason I was programmed to remember more or at least believe that I do. I feel like I was told a story about all of us. The way it was presented to me was that I would be recovering more memories whether I wanted to or not just by meeting these people again online.
Why would I subject myself to that? Because I'd already spent 5+ years having to deal with recovery in total silence. I felt like I had to reach out, that I had to try talking and sharing. I came to a point where some part of me had "had enough" of being left out and alone. That's why when I recognized people from their YouTube videos I started emailing them to see if we could help each other somehow.
At first, a lot of the people I met just kept things casual. They'd share videos, music, news, etc. Sometimes what they shared ended up being one of the mnemonics or triggers that related to things I was programmed to remember. But these people didn't know that they were doing it. You see, my handlers were so specific about things they made it to where I could be triggered just by seeing someone post about their love of Hawaiin coffee if it happened at a particular time and was done by the right trigger puller.
I believe I have what you could call a robot or computer alter that is based on YouTube and other types of content databases. I don't know why I am so impressionable but I am. I may not have the info when I'm in my day self unless I know to look for it. If you press the right button my mind just suddenly goes "Sept. 16, 1984. You were wearing Crocs. I don't even think those were out then so I don't know where you got them; but it had to be 1984 because we were going to see Ghostbusters in an actual theater and then on Monday I went to school and that's that grade we all remembered where Mrs. SoandSo went apeshit and lost all her marbles that day when Kenny called her a cheddar whale."
I don't know how it works. My handlers called it "eidetic memory" but I still don't really understand what that means. It sounds insane on the face of it.
Anyways, I was handling my reactions with some difficulty. Some days were ok then I felt like I got sideswiped and I couldn't always identify the source. But that started to change when I met this latest group of people I have a more communicative relationship with so far. I won't say their names unless they ask me to edit them in later, but they know who they are.
They both have their battles right now but one is more public about them. The one who is more public is the one I had the most "don't talk" programming done about, while the other one I was told to talk to freely and that she could help me decide what to do and how to process it. As I've bounced between the experience of relating to each of them as individuals I feel like they are somehow blending some of my alters into a better place but I'm starting to worry if they are now paying a price for that?
Am I helping or hurting? It's complicated. The one who wants all of her memories back is the one I was programmed not to talk to. When I first recognized her and started dealing with that aspect of things it was clear that she didn't remember me. I thought our new online friendship was going to be like all the rest. That I would experience whatever triggers are left from the programming done during the times I remember her, all the pains, all the stings, and that she probably wouldn't react.
Well, the more I watched her posts and videos from the time we became Facebook friends, the more I was remembering about her and what we had been through together. I couldn't tell if I was just showing up at "the right time" or if the simple act of meeting me had set off a program. All I knew was that it was like I was seeing the alter from 1990 speaking through her, but they are so close to each other, they aren't really separate. I feel like our core selves went through this together.
And, quite frankly, it was starting to make me mental. Maybe I was processing my own pain. Of course I am. That was a dumb thing to say. I was reliving it. But I was also watching her processing it. I don't know how she woke up exactly or what the background of the whole story is, I just knew I remembered her and recognized what they've programmed. They're putting her through the same thing as me.
So it's like my 16 year old part is the one who has been watching this whole time. I think I just now figured that out. I've been watching her when she's feeling down, angry, scared, over it. I think about our experience together, I think about my own life story, I wonder about hers. I don't know how to piece it together, I only know they made this feel like a very big deal to me.
But I didn't want to be wrong about sharing. So I kept keeping it to myself up until one video she posted where she was really suffering and all of her suffering seemed connected in my mind to them forcing her to relive some aspects of what we went through together. I still didn't know if it was my fault or if it would come up anyways. But it seemed like it was just coming up in body memories and mood states for her rather than recovering images or words from the events.
And that made it look to me like she was having to feel all of this without knowing where it came from. And I started to question whether telling her everything I knew would put a stop to that pain. Several times I cried myself to sleep and felt like the biggest jerk in the world. I'm crying again as I write this because I'm feeling that way again.
Why?
Well, I had reached my limit a second time. I thought some things might change once we started talking but it seems like I might have set her off again. She had started to recover a drawing and I could tell my alters knew something about it and they were very upset watching her have such a hard time sharing it. This is something that goes into a whole other level of programming they do on the artistically and spiritually gifted. When I saw her having to deal with it, too, some part said "That is freaking it! I'm done with these people!"
So there I went again barfing everything I thought I knew onto my blog. And when she read it, it turns out that I have still triggered her emotionally. And I am just going to be honest here and say I don't have any idea what I'm doing and at the same time I do. I'm being taught a lesson about boundaries. One I thought I already knew. One that points out the cruelty of the programming. That rule is: this stuff is really not easily dealt with over the Internet with relative strangers.
And that's the key. We don't really know each other. We didn't go to school together. We didn't party together or hang out at each other's houses growing up or later. We were perfect strangers who went through something so intimate and painful at once that it's hard to just be Internet friends and post about these things on blogs. What kind of a jerk move was that? If it weren't for my own selfish need to relieve my own pain maybe I could've waited a few years and some day paid a visit to these friends. I could have bought them dinner and we could all talk at random. Here's a memory, yeah, but here's an even funnier joke.
That would be so much funner and healthier but that's not what they program us for. Instead, they isolate us and have us hunt each other down like emotional prey. I think I've written all this to figure out whether to back off, how to proceed, etc. The person I'm talking about mentioned her experience of going through a type of Wizard of Oz programming (which is one of my main themes, too) and how that connects to heart programming.
Suddenly it all made sense. When I was 16, they ripped my heart out about her while torturing the both of us. Now I'm reliving it because my don't talk programming is the thing that frustrated me to the point of reaching out in the first place. It all just goes around in a circle and I am over it. I can never seem to be mad or sad enough on anyone's behalf for it to really help but I just want all of you to know I love you! We have to get through this for a reason and we will.
Wednesday, November 1, 2017
Another Good One
Today is a good day so far. I wonder why I've been feeling so much better? If this trend continues I just might be able to dig myself out of this hole and get back in shape. This morning I figured out *finally* how to deal with some of the voices that plague me. I seem to have a part that doesn't do anything other than repeat words, sometimes pronouncing them as they were 'spelled'. It's like a psychotic parrot or something. I always knew it was there but it was quieter until they started triggering me.
Anyways, it's a relief to understand this because I've been stressed out for a long time living with a part of myself that refuses to be reasoned with or to ever freaking shut up. It's like having my handlers in my head 24/7 repeating their agenda over and over again. Here's hoping, too, that I never feel compelled to notice and decode another license plate ever again, either.
These bizarre activities go back to early programming when I was being taught a way for the group to communicate without being physically present. It's like a form of advertising in one's everyday, natural environment. Letters, numbers and phonemes were all assigned secondary and even tertiary meanings, interpreted in a context specific way. Those meanings were then available everywhere because words are everywhere. It only takes one trauma during learning the word or the alternate interpretation to make the Pavlovian response take hold.
For instance, one perpetrator might say "Isn't it weird how the word 'Asplundh' almost sounds like 'ass plunder'?' before doing the evil deed. They'd do something like this already knowing full well that a construction project would be about to start in my neighborhood and that the 'Asplundh' company would have its concrete trucks driving by frequently. So, the part of me that knows these things sees these words and just repeats them. Ass plunder! Ass plunder! Then I start to think about the people who thought this way and get very irritated.
But now that I've identified this part for the robot that it is, I feel a lot more in control. I'm currently reprogramming it to repeat positive things. I know this may make me sound certifiable, but that's the side effects of dealing with the C.I.A. (Certifiably Insane Assholes).
Anyways, it's a relief to understand this because I've been stressed out for a long time living with a part of myself that refuses to be reasoned with or to ever freaking shut up. It's like having my handlers in my head 24/7 repeating their agenda over and over again. Here's hoping, too, that I never feel compelled to notice and decode another license plate ever again, either.
These bizarre activities go back to early programming when I was being taught a way for the group to communicate without being physically present. It's like a form of advertising in one's everyday, natural environment. Letters, numbers and phonemes were all assigned secondary and even tertiary meanings, interpreted in a context specific way. Those meanings were then available everywhere because words are everywhere. It only takes one trauma during learning the word or the alternate interpretation to make the Pavlovian response take hold.
For instance, one perpetrator might say "Isn't it weird how the word 'Asplundh' almost sounds like 'ass plunder'?' before doing the evil deed. They'd do something like this already knowing full well that a construction project would be about to start in my neighborhood and that the 'Asplundh' company would have its concrete trucks driving by frequently. So, the part of me that knows these things sees these words and just repeats them. Ass plunder! Ass plunder! Then I start to think about the people who thought this way and get very irritated.
But now that I've identified this part for the robot that it is, I feel a lot more in control. I'm currently reprogramming it to repeat positive things. I know this may make me sound certifiable, but that's the side effects of dealing with the C.I.A. (Certifiably Insane Assholes).
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