Here We Go Again

It's always Dr.G's words I hear through times like this. He had just finished raping me and we were standing around outside talking about "the paper". I was only about 15 or 16, I think. He says "I've never seen anyone try this hard to get someone to smoke."

So, to my handlers, yes, I got all your pre-planned words in my mouth out via multiple attempts at this post. You aren't allowed to dictate my thoughts, feelings or opinions on the illegal research experiment you're conducting on me. 

Let's review, shall we?

3 years ago it was all about trying to force me off nicotine lozenges. I did not want to quit them and start smoking again. But that's what YOU wanted. So, you gangstalked me and made suggestions about how maybe I could quit lozenges by drinking alcohol instead.

I'm pretty sure I'm remembering correctly, for example, one of my runs to Wal-Mart to get the lozenges. A man and woman "just happened to be on the same aisle".  I grab the lozenges and the woman looks out with a blank stare on her face. She says "Billy is using those..how's Billy?"  The guy says "Not that great. Ought to kick back a couple of shots of scotch. Haha."

Purely coincidental "suggestion", I'm sure.

This shit went on and on and on until I caved and drank myself all the way to rehab. 

Now here we go again with smoking. I finally caved for today on that. Funny, my willpower would've died anyways since I see now that you are putting images of cigarettes into my newsfeed while the TV simultaneously plays those anti-smoking ads where people have lost half of their face. Nice touch. Put the pressure from both sides on someone who literally hasn't had a break from ANYTHING for ALMOST 10 YEARS. 

Bitches.

I guess your next diabolical plan is to try to get rid of my dog. Yes, he is a bit of a barrier to any job that requires going all the way into Dallas. Then again any job that I get is usually through you guys somehow and there are always perpetrators there, which I'm also not in the mood to put up with. 

This is the whole boy who cried wolf thing again where this one last attempt at work would be the one that would be ok except now I refuse to even try. Or, I do try, and you've got the pressure going there, too, forcing me to quit, and feel even more hopeless. Nice touch. 

So, just wanted to let you know, you suck, I hate you and I'm sick of your shit. I hope you know you're a failure and cry yourself to sleep at night. 

Keep pushing me at your own peril. No guns, no violence. Just me running with any amount of power I get and using it to make the last miserable years of your lives even worse. 

Crazy People

I haven't blogged in a while because I haven't had anything to say. This is mostly me shouting into an empty room since only a few people I know actually read these posts. The rest of the visits appear to come from bots. 

In terms of sharing insights and recovery resources, the online community is woefully inadequate in certain areas.  Most of my journey involves talking to other survivors. The results are great when talking actually works. I've got a couple of people I can talk to now who I trust and I'm thankful for that. 

What I want to caution others about, though, is the risk involved in talking to people you would politically disagree with in every day life. I made a strong effort initially to talk to people who are more devout and conservative than little old liberal me. I thought that our status as survivors meant we could reach across the aisle, leave politics at the door, etc. 

Turns out? Not so much.

I've never met a more fragmented, paranoid and self-serving group of people than exists on the conservative talking points side of whatever this movement is they think they're in. Everything is all about them and they are never "wrong" about anything in their view. They don't listen. They don't think critically. They frequently accuse others of doing what they are doing. 

They also tend to drag people's names through the mud publicly with no basis in facts. The one person I'm thinking of seems to have stopped after I threatened to sue. I hated having to do that but it was getting ridiculous. I kept checking their posts to make sure my name was out of their mouth and was surprised to see their true colors all of a sudden showing with racist, misogynistic posts. Typical Trumpanzee, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised that they aren't the sharpest tool in the shed. 

As for the rest, I think they'd have a meltdown at an American Sign Language conference. You know, so many hand gestures you don't know the meaning of and "OMG, deaf people are now in the Illuminati", LMAO. 

Idiots.

Off the Grid #9: Covert Drugging, Radiation Weapons, Church Committee Iquiry (MK Ultra)

Interview with Jameel Rawls - How to Beat Gangstalking

A Youtube Course on Gangstalking

I found this guy on Youtube and he has some interesting videos. He's working on creating a course for TI's on dealing with the situation.  If you can help him out, that would be great:

https://www.gofundme.com/educationongangstalking

Pareidolia and Other Spy Tricks

Through sheer luck I was led to a site that put the scientific word to a phenomenon I'm well acquainted with and which contributed to a large amount of my government programming and memory recovery: Pareidolia.  Pareidolia (also sometimes called 'Matrixing') is the phenomenon of seeing faces in things like trees, rocks, clouds, brick, etc. There is also an auditory counterpart.

It is well worth your time to read the entire Wiki on the subject:

Pareidolia

Now, in the context of MK Ultra, it was actually through an encouragement and training towards practicing pareidolia that I first learned about 'monarch programming'.  My mother and I were laying on the grass in the front yard and looking at the clouds. She started teaching me to find faces, animals, all sorts of shapes. Then she told me that my older siblings had both been required to do a 'school project' of capturing monarch butterflies. I can't remember the whole conversation but I definitely got the impression that she wasn't talking about flying insects.

This learning was quickly trauma reinforced a few days later through a series of sexual assaults in rooms with busy wall paper. One of the assaults took place in a friend's house in the bathroom where the green-gold wall paper resembled lichen.  When I mentioned this to someone in-the-know in my teen years she said it's because of the spelling: lichen=liken.  What are you "likening" this experience to or "what, are you liking it, too?"

Over time, this simple blip of the brain is used by the intel agencies to store information. They tell you what faces to see, what writing to see, what sounds to hear so that they are like little conscious anchor points sticking out of each trauma iceberg. Although this may not be precise, it is somewhat like implanting a Rorschach test for later retrieval. 

One retrieval tool I was taught to use is art. You can create your own field on which to project your subconscious simply by covering a section of paper with pencil. Shade a solid spot, erase part of it, shade over again at a different angle. Usually, the more you wear the paper out with repeated erasing and shading, the better. When you start to see forms and thin lines as you erase (they'll look like they're well worn and not erasable), this is usually when you start to notice something interesting. Just play with it from there. 

I ended up going a step further due to additional programming my handlers did involving what they called "process pictures". There were pictures I drew as a child and teen that were anchored to specific sets of trauma memories. I did not remember them. That is, until I went from plain pencil shading to playing with other types of visual suggestion. 

Initially, I felt great joy and satisfaction as I realized that I might someday be at least as good at visual art as my mom. However, in a classic CIA punch to the gut and ego, I quickly began to recognize these drawings as recreations from the past. It was as if they'd taken over my mind to the point I couldn't come up with any ideas for a subject without it ending up being one of these trauma pictures. 

Not only that, one of the images was used while I was working on it as an attempt to trigger surveillance paranoia.  I was sitting out at night on the patio (this is back when I still lived in Austin with a friend) and the porch light was on. I was enjoying the cool spring air while I worked on a pencil drawing involving fancy dressed cats walking through downtown. 

I decided to be clever I would have them walking past "Katz's Deli". Katz's had two locations in Austin and the owner even ran for mayor one time.  It was a 24 hour restaurant and it's motto was "Katz's Never Kloses'.  Well, unfortunately, they did end up closing their famous downtown location.

As a joke I added a sign on my drawing that said "Katz's: Klosed". 

Well, at the exact moment I did that, this group of guys a few yards away busted out into raucous laughter. I have no idea how this type of synchronicity is achieved in the program, but Occam's Razor would suggest it is probably a lot easier to achieve by actually putting me under surveillance. 

It seems now that my handlers must not have wanted me to worry about whether people were watching me. My first reaction at the time was to look up. I had my sketchpad on my lap and due to that and lighting conditions, the only place a camera would capture what I was doing would had to have been right above me.  I didn't see anything. 

So, I started trying to "fill in the gaps"  and that's when I remembered them telling me that I was so suggestible and robotic that they didn't need cameras or tracking in order to gangstalk me and do street theater. They made me believe that I was so robotic that I'd just show up where they needed me to be, even when I thought I was tricking them by doing things like going against my first impulse, altering my routines, etc. 

That phase of the triggering was definitely hard for me. I knew I was being sensitized and it made me feel psychotically anxious. At the same time, though, I was kind of clinically fascinated with myself and very motivated to get to the truth and through the program because I understood it on a deep level to be a matter of life and death. 

I think I might talk about this phase of my awakening in more depth in the next post. I feel I might be able to reverse engineer some of the negative advantages they gained in terms of, pardon my French, royally mind-fucking me. And that might even help some other people, too!

** I guess I should mention...this post, like many of my posts, is actually a "process post". Most of what I tell you all is something I already wrote as a teenager. I had some Canadian researchers talking to me about this at one point. "Coincidentally" then someone +1d me on my last post whose profile pic looked a lot like one of those Canadian Drs.  Totally coincidence, of course......***thpptt!***

V2K and Electronic Harassment

I know I've posted on this before but feel like I might be able to give a better description by revisiting the subject. It's something that I'm familiar with in personal experience but tend not to focus on.

I think the reason for that is because it's an experience I don't enjoy revisiting. The V2K technology, for instance, was used to communicate with me in the context of a very dangerous situation. I automatically associate it with deep cover operations and trafficking and for that reason it brings back memories of some of my most fearful experiences. 

But I would like to describe what the technology sounds like and how it was used with  me. I am not sure how advanced things were back in the late 70's/ early 80's but that time period marked my first experience of voice to skull. 

The voices were mechanical sounding. It was like someone had eliminated all of the high and low frequencies and focused on the mid-range frequencies of the human voice.  The agents used this approach to try to reinforce UFO related screen memories. I think they believed that the more alien they sounded the more they might convince me that I was hearing communications directly from aliens. They even went so far one time as to have me look up to the sky at a cloud while they were talking to me, telling that that's where they were broadcasting from. 

I have also experienced more human sounding voices, so I know they have the ability to transmit either way. The device they use seems to have a range of about 1.5 to 2 miles. The last time V2K was used on me (as far as I know) was around 2005 or 2006. I was trying to run by driving to Dallas and avoid being accessed. The handler present for that reprogramming was following me on the interstate. I heard his voice tell me I had to exit and turn around, that it would be easier to just get it over with because they weren't going anywhere until they were done with me.

He also mentioned the fact that he was about a mile behind me on the road. I find this very interesting because I did notice a degradation in the volume of his voice. I could hear him clearly enough but not at conversational volume and not without some signal fading. 

Another feature I'v'e noticed about this technology is that they can selectively freeze your body in place while the communication occurs. I can recall more than a few times when the broadcast seemed to include a signal that induced something akin to seizure or partial paralysis on site. If they didn't want me to move while they spoke to me, then I didn't. If they did want me to move it seemed that the whole series of V2K instructions were simultaneously being carried out autonomically. I would find myself running, ducking and dodging sometimes ahead of their verbal commands. 

I believe this information should cause everyone to pause and reflect on the real nature of MK Ultra. Someone who is not an MK Ultra survivor is not going to respond as easily to the technology, in my opinion  I can state unequivocally that my experience of V2K was enhanced by traumas such as electroshock and rape. This is because the people communicating through this means made me well aware that they were also responsible for the electroshock and rape. So, when they told me to run or perform some other action, the sheer fact that their power extended to being able to talk directly into my mind put a fire under my heels. 

Moving on to other types of targeting..I have had unexplained and sudden sunburn type symptoms on various parts of my body. I am not diabetic and do not suffer from neuropathy. During one phase of targeting I was dosed in my sleep with pseudomonas auregensis, the bacteria that causes an ear infection that turns ear wax blue. It is a very rare infection. The infection was "cured" by microwave targeting of my ears. Starting around 2011 I had severe heat and pain in my ears at night whenever I was on my pillow. I would wake up in the morning to what looked like cobalt blue ink staining my pillow.  This is something that should have required antibiotics to treat but since I never sought medical treatment for the condition and it went away on its own I can only conclude that the infection was literally melted out of my ear canal.  

To this day, I still have some strange auditory experiences. Once in a while I hear the sound of an old fashioned telephone ringing. It sounds as if it is coming from both the outside as well as somewhere in my attic. I've never been able to pin point the source.  I frequently suffer from bouts of tinnitus and have also had nights where I hear constant static and beeping, like morse code. 

I've spent a long time responding to these things medically, just chalking them up to allergies and infections. It seems the handlers appreciate that to a point and will shift tactics whenever the target takes the everyday, mainstream skeptics view of the situation, but the attacks never stop. They just shapeshift. One day you successfully handle EM harassment, the next they try to kill you in a car accident.

Juan

I’m wide awake and light as air. Why am I racing out of the house and into the twilight? I don’t know. I can’t remember. It’s beautiful weather, though. One of those balmy evenings where there’s a gentle breeze and the night feels soft. 

A few houses down a car pulls into the driveway and Juan, the man with the checkbook, gets out and starts talking to one of his relatives, a much younger man.  Their voices carry on the wind as I run towards my house. I’m almost to my own driveway when I hear this:

“Do you think we’re clear or is somebody gonna drop a dime on us?”, asks the younger man.

The CIA is fond of autonomic puns. The moment I hear the word ‘dime’, I stop. I stop on a dime, but do I pick it up?

Juan moves up the driveway with his characteristically awkward gate. He’s like a penguin or someone trying to manage two sprained ankles.  I manage to unfreeze and find a hiding spot behind the family car.

“No, there aren’t gonna be any dimes dropped. That’s what the meeting was about. I just talked to Oxana and Pam. They’ve got a test for people who drop dimes.”

“Ok, then what are we doing with the gun?”

“We’ll get the Miller kid, Charles, to run it.”

Oh my god! They’re talking about my brother! I don’t think this is right. I think this is something my parents need to know about. I’m only around 5 years old and my perspective is that our situation is gradually worsening.  My brother was only a teenager but was already being used as a courier. He had shown me a black velvet sack full of stolen diamonds that he had to deliver to someone. I didn’t approve of that either, but diamonds are not as scary as guns. Kid logic. 

This memory isn’t clear at all, but I know that I said to one or both of my parents that I heard “the people up the street talking about forcing Charles to deliver a stolen gun to somebody.”  I don’t remember their reaction. It must have been lukewarm because I decided to corner my brother privately and tell him what I heard. He seems annoyed and tells me not to worry about it. 

About a week or so later and at approximately the same time of night that all of this transpired I’m told by my mother that the man with the checkbook needed to have a word with me. Her face was filled with concern and anxiety. “I’m sorry”, she said, “but you dropped a dime.”

I didn’t understand the turn of phrase when Juan said it and didn’t understand it when my mom said it, either. I interpreted it literally. I asked her why anyone would be upset with me for spilling change onto the ground.  She tries her best to explain it without giving too much away. “His dimes are his secrets. He doesn’t want people knowing where his money comes from. He thinks you’re spilling his secrets out in the open.”

“Can’t we just explain to him that I didn’t know dimes have two meanings?’, I plead. 

“No, that’s not good enough for him. You were outside. You heard him having a private conversation. You stopped and listened. He wants to make sure that doesn’t happen again or he’s going to kill you. He’s protecting you through the secrets of his business. If he weren’t then the Humero people would probably have already kidnapped you from us and sold you into slavery overseas by now.  He’s not a good guy but he does believe that family should stick together.”

I’m beginning to understand that Juan is some type of criminal. He’s no better than the rest in terms of sexual perversion yet he doesn’t believe child victims should be taken from their parents. I guess in a situation like this you learn to redefine the meaning of the word ‘blessing’. I now know that dimes and blessings have two meanings. 

When Juan enters the house, I feel like it’s the first time I’ve really met him and seen him up close. I’ve dealt with him elsewhere but can’t recall him ever coming inside. It’s time for a formal introduction. 

He walks through the door with one of his associates and lumbers past me towards the kitchen. I can’t hear the conversation he’s having with my father and brother as I sit and wait in the living room. Time passes, and I see him walking down the hallway towards my bedroom.

He’s shaking his head and repeating himself: “No, no, we can’t have any little tape recorders or video cameras in the mafia.”   I understand on a gut level that he’s referring to me. It’s the first time I’m aware of how others viewed my gift of eidetic memory. I knew I was different, but I didn’t understand how. I didn’t understand why people viewed me as abnormal. 

My mom walks me into my bedroom. Someone has placed a tape recorder under my bed. Juan walks in and says “You know, kid, we weren’t talking that loud. How the fuck did you hear me over 25 feet away? I don’t know but apparently you did, and you felt like telling other people my business. See, I’m in the business of nobody knowing my business. Unless you want me to sell you to Osama bin Laden then you need to get into the business of nobody knowing my business.”

He tells me to press ‘play’ on the tape recorder. I do and there is no audio. Just a blank tape. He tells me to press stop and rewind. I do. He tells me to press record. I can’t remember what else he said but in a few moments he tells me to stop the tape again, rewind, turn the volume down and press record again. Erase the tape. 

“Now”, he asks, “what did I just tell you? Did I say anything to you, little tape recorder?”

Here’s where being on the autism spectrum was frequently almost the death of me:  I say to him “You said something to me but not to the tape recorder because we erased that.”

He gets agitated. “YOU are the tape recorder! What did I say?!”

“You said you’re protecting me, but I need to shut up.”

“Wrong answer.”

He tells me to put away the tape recorder. He looks directly into my eyes and says “Well, I guess I’m gonna have to fix you myself.”

I used to have all  this memory intact when I was younger. Now all I can remember is screaming “No!”

Healing Takes More Than Time

This post is for anyone going through a difficult time in their recovery. I hope readers will have some feedback and insights to share on the subject. What has worked for you? What was the hardest thing for you to recover from or deal with and what was easier? 

In my personal experience (and I suspect many others can relate to this as well), one of the worst parts of PTSD is anxiety. It is even worse if you've got health issues related to the stomach, esophagus, lungs or other central parts of the body because so many things can mimic the onset of a panic attack. I have had both real panic attacks and panic attacks induced by acid reflux. 

But all of the symptoms from anxiety to anger to depression are our unfortunate legacy - we  know the symptoms have been there a while. They were easier to manage when we were still in our amnesia. It gets harder when you start to wake up, though. This is even more true when you've been programmed to wake up a certain way, as many of us from the government projects were programmed to do. 

I'm not saying I'm an expert or have it easier. I don't. I'm just a little farther along and have survived. So, I want to list a couple of symptoms you might go through and let you know that they're normal:

1. Sudden sense of panic that comes out of nowhere and lasts maybe 30 seconds (might include gastric symptoms, feeling of nausea, hot flashes).   Panic symptoms are fairly normal. When it gets to this stage (the stomach stuff is what I go through) I can promise it is largely due to needing to take better care of yourself. Us survivors tend to go through addiction issues, many of which can cause or worsen gastritis, acid reflux, etc.

2. Feelings of doom, hopelessness and despair.  Also normal. Some of these feelings might be engineered from the outside but I also find that internal parts have a lot to do with it, too. You've got to try to tune in and hear what your parts are saying in the back of your mind. 

3. Rage, impatience, irritation.  Not pleasant but also normal. Worse when you're tired or sick. Really frustrating if you can identify outside triggers, such as gangstalking, that seem designed to push your buttons. Beyond that it is usually an alter mis-programmed to bring up the worst of the abuse over and over (for instance, repeated flashbacks or body sensations of sexual assault).

4.  Racing thoughts, unusual thoughts or confusing images or mental flashes. Also normal. The problem with this is that once it gets started it sometimes doesn't want to stop. The mental flashes, in particular, that seem out of context or possibly from the imagination are often actually memory fragments.  If you get a lot of these and it seems to just go on its own steam then you were probably set up with what the handlers call a "flood program".  Even if you aren't getting flooded with full memories you are still getting flooded with fragments and body sensations.  To me, this usually feels a lot worse than just knowing what it's about. I recommend finding a distraction, watch or listen to something funny or educational. 

5. Isolation, agoraphobia, ocd type symptoms. Also common. If you are a targeted individual on top of everything else then you've got to contend with this part of the program. I know it can be very exhausting to go out of the house and deal with all the triggers put right in your face on a daily basis. That's what they want. 

Per number 5, let me speak to that a bit more before I wrap this up. In my targeting, the triggers are always designed to stand in contrast to my mood and symptoms. If I'm feeling sick and tired and just need to get some food and go, then it will always be the case that someone goes in front of me in the express lane at the store with 20 or more items, writes a check for them and then stands there and chitchats with the cashier for 5 to 10 minutes.  If I complain, all the store employees respond as if I'm a crazy asshole. 

When I wake up irritated and mad about the sexual component of the abuse, it's usually a lot of euphemistic triggers in people's conversations. "Yeeep, I heard she's wide open". "Oh no, I have a head injury", etc, etc. It will also usually be online with suggestive advertisements across social media and other sites, usually delivered by advertising. 

They seem to know when I'm especially irritated and over it all because that's usually when I start seeing ads, stories, etc about guns, gun violence, suicide, mass shooters, etc.  And that is irritating in itself. Those are the moments I can hear and feel them most strongly. Come, on, J, aren't you gonna go get 'revenge'?   Nope, only Montezuma's revenge!

Ultimately I think what most of us need is some cold hard cash. Healing is not just time consuming but also expensive. I would love to live in a house or apartment that I've never been raped or tortured in but I can't afford to at the moment. I would love to get a few more things taken care of medically but I can't afford to at the moment. I would love to be less isolated and go into the big city near me and try to find friends and maybe a lover, but I can't do that drive on a regular basis..and I can't afford to move there at the moment.

You see where this is going, right?  It's no coincidence so many of us end up on SSI, physically and/or emotionally disabled.  Many of our injuries and accidents are programmed. Our education and our work life is programmed. We are kept alive in a closed system that is equivalent to living in a fish bowl.  We must keep our heads up, our hopes up and our hearts full. Strive for creative solutions to find the way out. Find at least one awesome thing a day to be thankful for and put your trust in God finding a way through. This is the best advice I can give at the moment. I'm eager to hear what others have to say.

Guest Post: Meet Dogwood Blossom!

This is DogwoodBlossom backt to make a brief a very brief introduction about myself, which hopefully  I will say more about later.

First, though, I want to place myself in time and context to Anonymous Dude.

I was born in late 1956, so I am approximately 17 years older than A. Dude and some other Mkultra people about whom you may have heard.  I was born into multigenerational Satanic/Luciferian family, but also like many born into this, I was also placed into and trained by the US government's Mkultra program from very early childhood.  

 

My Mkultra programming was primarily related to  primarily psychic and dark spiritual training...along with some other  types of black projects activities as well. Another time I will likely comment more on these things.

Also, unlike A Dude, my memories of the Satanic cult involvement are much clearer and more complete than my Mkultra programming overall, which are more sparse.  However, my dreams beginning even from early childhood indicated involvement in both of these areas, even although my more complete memories only began coming up in my early 30's.

Similar to many others born into these families, my family presented as a "normal" middle to upper middle class "good"  citizens, and attended church etc.  There would have been few if any signs of what was going on below the surface.

I have been through decades of therapy etc to work through my horrendous and tortured memories... and alters... to arrive at the place where I am now;  meaning for over 10 yrs now I have not been suicidal from the horrors I was recalling and the accompanying suicidal and even homicidal programming .  At this point I can honestly say that it is incredible that I survived and am  alive.

 

I still have alters, but they are much more settled and cause much less havoc than in my 30s and 40s.  However I still have "new" memories  and  alters emerge from time to time even now.

For me love and kindness toward ALL, others, ourselves and our alters, and all animal creatures on this planet, is what is most is most important.  I am a follower of Jesus, and I believe this is what He taught.  I have also found this kind of love have  most healing; thus I will not participate in the cruel and judgemental divisions found among many who claim to be Christians.

I hope to write again soon more here on this blog.

Waking Up: Could You Be a Monarch Survivor?

A powerful video testimony posted by a friend reminded me of the time I was still sleeping, having once known of my situation and then saw it covered up again. Even that's not totally accurate since I continued to be accessed through my 30's. I was always going through "knowing" and "not knowing".  This is what it's like to lead a double life, essentially dealing with a split personality that shares the fragments between two sides 

For instance, I can remember a day in my late 20's when I paused in a reflective mood, smiled and enjoyed the realization that I had not, to my knowledge, been raped in the past 2 years. If I had even thought of such a thing at another time it would've seemed ridiculous or induced a panic that shoved the questions away. 

In a similar fashion, I enjoyed shows such as Coast 2 Coast AM that covered esoteric subjects such as MK Ultra. I remember being very interested in the subject at times and doing internet research on the topic. A part of me would read the words and think "Yeah, I think this might have happened to me." Then I eventually became too triggered and would drop the subject for a while. 

How telling, though! If you'd asked me at any time prior to my 20's I could've told you all about it. I could keep the memories closer to the surface then for, I hypothesize, two reasons:

1. They were still relatively fresh by the mere fact of not being as far back in time or developmentally.

2. The structure of my life supported that type of recall. I was a mere high school student living in a rural area with not much to do but think and write.

What I'm driving at here is that if YOU can relate to this or if you ever ask yourself "Why am I interested in this topic?" it is a very good indication that you may have a hidden history. These programs are so covered up and so designed to seem far-fetched to truly average, un-involved people that it's virtually diagnostic of survivorship to have an interest in the topic.

I know that's a bold statement. You don't have to take action or look inside if it feels wrong to you. If it feels wrong, then you aren't ready. But I do encourage those who feel ready and able to explore to continue to research this, watch the video testimonies of other survivors, keep a journal of your feelings and thoughts and reactions. You may begin to uncover a story of your own.