OK, here's the thing..............
I am starting this off with stuff I have already written as I was going to write this in a book. Well, I decided to do a blog instead to just get it right out there. I will add to a lot to this as I post, but I felt this was at least a place to start.
This is my story and my truth... no one out there has to believe a word I say, so do not feel you need to argue the point with me. If my word rings true to you then read on. If I seem like a crazy liar... then don't read this blog. This is not a debate. This is my story, period.
With that all said..here goes......................
Multijl My Story
I think the hardest part of telling any story is the beginning. I mean where does one start? In my case, for instance it all started when I was quite small and going back that far could get rather long winded. So, for the sake of time, I believe I will start way back but skip those places that will take away from what I feel I need to say. Now with that all said, I shall begin.
I came into the world in the beginning of winter, December 12th, 1957. I doubt there was anything important about that day except to my parents. Well, I would at least like to hope my birth was important to my parents. I believe my mom was OK with my birth but I have serious doubts about my dad. From the very beginning my relationship with him was not right. I mean he always let me know how I messed up his relationship with my mom and that it was my destiny to make that fact up to him. However, I do not think I could have ever done enough to please that man and no father has the right to demand the kind of payment he required of me.
Fortunately I had another Father who loved me. As a matter of fact, He created me, so His love made up a lot for the sick man who sired me on this planet. And that is what this story of my life is about. A journey….a journey of a life filled with abuse and pain, but a life that found its way to the heavenly Father and Savior Jesus Christ. This is a story of my salvation, deliverance and healing.
My prayer for this book is that it will lead all who read it to my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ and that they will know how much He loves them and through Him they can find hope, healing, deliverance and most of all a Savior. So I dedicate this book to Him, My Lord, my GOD, Jesus Christ.
I loved to play in the dirt. I would sit on the ground and run my feet through the fine dirt feeling its softness, and then I would scoop a hand full up and watch it sift through my little fingers. I never cared how dirty I got; I only cared about the feel of the fine soft dirt on my skin. It was heaven for a two-year-old. I think I felt the presence of an intruder before I saw the shadow cast over me from the big form above. I was reluctant to look up from my play, as I did not want to be disturbed. But when the shadow did not move I looked up slowly. Daddy! Oh how I loved my daddy! He reached his big hand down to take my little one in his and pulled me up from my heavenly dirt pile. I smiled as I looked up into his face but I soon realized he was not pleased with me. With a frown and a severe scolding I knew this was not a good thing. He was not happy with the dirt I found so pleasing.
I remember being pulled into the house and put into a tub to be washed. All the time my dad was cussing under his breath and washing my little soft body very roughly, too roughly as I began to cry. Shut up you little *#@*##@@ !!! I did not know what that meant but I knew it was not good. Before I could quiet down I saw a big tube being shoved into my face and forced into my small mouth. It hurt my mouth and caused me to gag. I could not breathe so I started fighting. My dad hit me hard on the head and pulled my hair forcing that tube back into my mouth again. I felt myself floating away and that is all I remember. Later I remember sitting in the car eating ice cream next to my dad and he was smiling at me and being nice. He was happy again. I remember being happy because he was happy and I knew he loved me again. But I also remember feeling confused and not being able to understand why I felt so confused.
I really think he started doing stuff to me even as a baby. I have no proof, just a feeling that sticks like vomit to my soul. I also know I started splitting off in my mind at a very young age as a way to deal with the pain and betrayal. I loved my dad a lot back then and even though he hurt me I was just too young to understand his sickness. Also there were times when he was a good daddy and did nice tender daddy things, which made for even more confusion. I always believed that when he hurt me I deserved it because that was what he would tell me.
Memories, what an odd thing they are. I remember playing with my dolls, climbing trees, riding my bike, skipping rope all the normal fun things little girls do. I also remember pain, lots of pain. It was like I always lived two very different, distinct lives. I wonder how many clues there were all those many years ago that were flashing like warning signs for anyone who dared to notice. I wonder how many other children were living two different lives just like me with no one to notice and no one to even care. I am guessing way too many of us to count. So, here is the next part of my story..I will be injecting other things in this as well...
“I am sorry honey but I have to do this.” That was my dad talking to me. I was five and not even in kindergarten yet. He took my hand in his and led me down the basement stairs. It was a cold gray basement with cinderblock walls and a concrete floor. I remember a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling and the wooden floor runners being exposed, not a place I liked to be. Then I remember a change in his face. The change was always one I feared as it meant pain was in store for me. This time the pain was so much more then my little body could bear. I remember him ripping my small panties from my body. I remember being roughly pushed to the cold floor. I remember him hovering over me and feeling searing pain like the core of my body being torn wide open. I focused on the single light shining in the ceiling, and as he destroyed my body and soul, I floated away to the light. Suddenly, I slammed back into my body and as I struggled to pull myself up, I dared to glance a look at him. He was turning away wiping his mouth as he walked back up the stairs. He never looked back at me, he just left me in a pool of blood with pain ripping through me. After a while I managed to pull myself up the stairs crying in pain and even at that young age wishing I could die. I do not know how I did it, but I managed to pull myself up a second set of stairs to the bathroom. I struggled with the taps on the tub trying to adjust the water to clean myself up when he came into the bathroom. He pulled my soiled dress off of me and gently lifted me into the tub and washed me very softly and slowly. He whispered how much he loved me and acted like he had not even done that horrible thing in the basement. Once again I felt that confusion. I remembered much later that when he raped me, he was really getting me ready to sell. He sold me to the “Dark Man" who I think must have been some sort of a handler. My dad was working his way up in the ranks of the Masons and I was part of the price he had to pay for his power and whatever else he wanted. All I know is that after that I day was thrown into the "Cult", and satanic ritual abuse became a way of life along with a lot of other things for the rest of my childhood.
( I now know this was a generational curse, coming down from my dad and my mother's side of the family....the Dark Man was in actuality more then one person, which I will explain more concerning that later in my blog....)
Running, running, running, my heart was pounding so hard I thought it would explode right out of my chest. Don’t stop, don’t stop was all I heard playing over and over in my head. I knew that if I stopped something much more painful than an exploding heart would happen. So I kept running. After awhile my side started hurting. I forgot the heart beating out of my chest because the pain in my side was so bad. Please... I thought to myself….. just let me rest. But I knew that was not an option. So I kept running, but then I began seeing things, strange things. I saw shapes peering around trees and at first they looked like shadows but then they grew to look like ugly gargoyles with bulging eyes. I could hear them laughing, and the laughter turned into taunting, and the taunting turned into foul words. They started flying next to me and poking me with their long fingernails on their pointed scaly fingers. They spit at me with horrible smelling slime. I stumbled and they would trip me and then kick me if I fell down until I got back up again. Sometimes they would pull my hair and try to make me fall that way. I could feel the tears burn in my eyes, sweat running down my face and body. I thought I was going to die. I wondered if I even cared anymore.
But I did care; I cared so much that I would not give up. I knew I could not let them beat me in this. I had seen others who had given up and they were wasted like used toilet paper. I was not going to go down that way. I was not the trash they kept telling me I was. Somewhere deep inside I knew I was loved by someone, something bigger then them. I did not know whom at this point, just a knowing deep inside. A knowing I held on at times like this. A knowing I would not let go of.
The creatures finally seemed to grow bored of their game of tormenting me. And about the time I thought I would get some relief I fell into a dark pit. It seemed as if I fell for a long while but who knows? I did not remember hitting the bottom but only waking up there. It was pitch black. I could not see my hand in front of my face. I soon became cold, very cold. The sweat from my body soon turned into chills. I scrunched into a ball holding my knees close to my body trying to get warm. Then something slimy was poured over me. It smelled like rotten eggs and blood, I started gagging and then threw up. Terror overwhelmed me and to my great relief I blacked out. I was only five years old, almost six just a baby really, but I had already seen and experienced more pain and horror than most people ever do in a lifetime. Later, I do not know how much later, I was sitting on The Dark Mans lap. He was stroking my hair and I remember him saying "you did well my little one, I am proud of you". I wondered what I did well. I thought maybe that it was that I did not die. To be so young and know so much about death was so very wrong. But I was not given a choice about any of that.
I called him The Dark Man because he had coal black hair, coal black eyes, and he always wore black. He also had a very well groomed close cut beard and well-trimmed mustache, the same coal black. I guess in the way of the worlds standards he would have been considered strikingly handsome, however, if you looked into his eyes all you would be able to see was a vast coldness. He was often very gentle with me preferring others to do the ‘dirty work’. I believe that was so I would trust him and only him. Do not misunderstand me here though as he did abuse me. But he made me feel as if somehow the abuse was some kind of reward or honor. For instance, if he had sex with me he would make it seem as if it was a good thing and if he didn’t, it was a punishment somehow. Crazy as this sounds I came to depend on him a lot and I probably trusted him more than anyone. Unfortunately, that misguided trust was part of the programming and I was manipulated into believing that he was my protector in some weird way. So all the while I trusted this man he was setting up all the horrible abuse others inflicted upon me. He was watching in the background taking note, making changes in my programming and if needed, ramping up the pain as well as taking credit for saving me from more pain. I do not know when I last saw The Dark Man but my last memory of him was when I was about 16 or 17. So I know he was in my life the whole time from the age five when my dad sold me to him. Even now after all these years I still have confused feelings about him. This is probably the first time I have ever really talked about him in any length and he will be in this book a lot I fear. I wonder how many out there had their own Dark Man who ruled their lives and became what is well known in the world of SRA as ‘The Handler’. The Dark Man was my handler. He controlled my whole life from what happened in school, to who I played with as a child. He controlled all of my programming and how it was carried out and when it happened. He controlled all of my punishments when I did not do as I was told or for whatever I may have done wrong. No one was allowed to touch me without his permission or even talk to me for that matter.
When I was about seven I remember going to a little girl’s house on the next block. Her dad was a minister. I didn’t really like the girl much as she was kind of snotty and rude but for some reason that particular day she invited me into her house. All I remember about this visit was meeting her dad. He took me into his office and I remember thinking that he was going to ‘do stuff’ to me because so far in my young life all men I had met who took me into their offices always ‘did stuff’ too me. I felt the familiar dread in the pit of my stomach. Anyway all he did was ask me if I had ever heard of Jesus. When I said no he proceeded to take out a small little black book and tell me that it was a Bible called The New Testament. He then turned it to a place called John 3:16 and read it too me. "For GOD so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son and who so ever believes in Him shall not perish but have everlasting life". He told me that GOD'S son is Jesus and He loves me. Now I did not understand all that minister said that day but what I did understand was that GOD loved me and He had a son named Jesus who loved me also. The minister underlined that verse and I memorized it right away, for many years that verse was the only word of GOD that was tucked away in my heart. But it was a seed planted that day and it continued to grow my whole life. No one on this whole planet could or would ever be able to take that seed away or stop it from growing, not my dad, not The Dark Man, not any of the people who hurt me through the years. That seed also kept me from becoming what ‘They’ were planning for me to become… a child of Satan. GOD had singled me out even in the middle of hell. I was His own and no one could change that fact. Even if I did not understand what that meant it was still the truth, GOD chose me. It is because of His grace and love that I survived that I did not become a child of Satan and that I gave my heart to Him to be with Him forever and that I am alive today to tell this story.
Not long after the rape from my dad I had an experience with another creep who lived in our neighborhood. I remember his name was Mr. Marks. He was an older man but at five I could not say how old and he was married. Mr. & Mrs. Marks reminded me of Mr. & Mrs. Wilson on Dennis the Menace. Anyway, one of them invited me into their house for milk and cookies. Then he proceeded to take me downstairs to his den. Well, I suppose it is no surprise that this creep molested me horribly. I was already so conditioned to do this sick stuff it never occurred to me to fight him or run. I just let him use me. After he was through I left and several days later I remember having a conversation with another five-year-old neighbor girl. We got to talking about Mr. Mark's for some reason and I asked her if she liked him. She said no and I asked why. She said because he touched her and she did not like it. I told her that yeah, I did not like him or the way he touched me either. I stared off into the sky and thinking hard about all of this stuff I asked her if she knew why men did that stuff to us. She didn’t know. I pondered a bit more and then made a decision. Men were from other countries and that was a custom from their other land they came from. I was wishing they would all go back to their other country and leave me alone. We never talked about that again with each other but I have often thought about such a conversation between two little girls just five and not even in kindergarten. What a world we live in where children even need to talk about such sick things to try and make sense of them.
Things that I loved as a child were my mom, my grandmother, my big sister, my dolls, my bike all in that order. I loved my older brother but I was scared of him... I was always told he would kill me or he would be killed if I trusted him. I loved my mom although she often seemed rather illusive to me, was not affectionate and never seemed to care what happened to me, I adored my grandmother but I only got to see her a couple of times a year and she died when I was seven. I loved my big sister but she was often gone and she left home when I about nine. I loved my dolls because they were always nearby ready to hear my cries and feel my tears. I told them all my secrets and I trusted them to keep my secrets. They always did. I loved my bike because it made me feel free and often took me away from all the pain and problems I rode away from, at least for awhile that is.
Things I hated as a child: I hated school, I hated to be tied up or held down. I hated things tight around my neck. I hated penises and hands and bathroom smells. I hated to be told what to do. I hated school because I was often taken out of school and tied up, held down, had things tied around my neck, abused with penises, hands and hurt in bathrooms where I was made to do horrible things. I was also hurt in all those ways outside of school as well, but I always knew school meant torture, humiliation, pain and lots of zapping!
In kindergarten I remember being taken out of class and put in a room with a few other children. We all had to take our clothes off. Some times we had to touch each other on our privates, sometimes we had to do things with adults. Sometimes we had to stand naked in front of others kids and adults and be told horrible degrading things. We were poked with prong like sticks that hurt, made to eat feces or drink urine, and do oral sex on other kids or adults, in other words anything that was sick perverted and cruel. If we didn’t do as we were told we were shocked with the prong like thing or someone was hurt while we watched. I mean, if I said no, then the adult in charge would sometimes get another child and hurt that child until I did as I was told. In order to make them stop hurting that child I would have to comply. They had different ways to make us compliant depending on what worked best with each child. These lessons went on all through my school years; they just changed their lesson plans as I got older. Oh how I hated school!
We never much went to church when I was a kid so I do not really remember much about going. Maybe we went at Easter or something, as I know I always got a new Easter dress and shoes, etc. So I assume we went somewhere so I could wear those new clothes. I just do not remember going until I was about nine or so. We lived in Iowa then and we went to a Baptist church a few times. Truthfully, I was scared of church buildings. I was often taken to church buildings in the cult for satanic rituals. Odd I would not remember going to church for church stuff but would know about the satanic rituals in those buildings. As I got older and my mom got into the charismatic movement I remember seeing a lot of people in the cult at those meetings. They would stand up in the front leading song services and choirs and prayers etc. They would speak in their tongues that they used in satanic rituals, I knew even then it was to fool and trick the people there. What a bunch of crock they were. All fake!! I learned a long time ago that most of what people see in church buildings is fake. Not all of it because there are some people who go to church who really love the Lord and honestly serve Him. Unfortunately there are not a lot of them. Most people do not want the truth about things, but instead they live in a bubble. That is the way of churches today. No one wants truth. No one wants to know about children being abused, much less children being abused at school and in churches. That is why the perpetrators get away with so much, because no one wants the truth. Didn’t someone say at one time that none are so blind as those who will not see? There is a lot of truth in that statement.
When I was seven some new people moved into some apartments down the street. The Dark Man told me to be nice to them. They had a girl about twelve or thirteen I remember. She liked it when I came over because she would have me do things to her. Things I was taught in my lesson sessions at school. I figured she had lessons as well. Anyway, one weekend I was to go with them to a farm outside of Lincoln, Nebraska. We lived in Lincoln at that time. Lincoln is where we lived when my dad sold me. The Dark Man told me I was to go to this farm and do everything I was told to do and if I did not obey; my mom would die like my grandmother had a few months before. I was terrified of losing my mom like I did grandma so this was a serious threat to me.
I remember being in the back seat of a car and it was night. It was raining and kind of chilly so I think it might have been in the fall of the year. It is weird but I can not remember these people except from the neck down. The whole thing kind of reminds me of a Charlie Brown cartoon in that it was like the grown ups did not have heads and they sounded a lot like blah, blah, blah when they spoke. I remember also that we stopped at a dime store or something like that and the man driving took me by the hand into the store and I was supposed to pick out a Barbie outfit. That was odd, as I did not have my Barbie with me. Anyway, I decided I wanted a dress for Barbie and for some reason I was bought under garments for her and I did not like that at all but knew I needed to be quiet about it. When I think back about it I still feel icky about that whole Barbie underwear thing. So then we get to this farm after a bit of driving. I do not remember anything again until the teenage girl and another girl who is supposed to be her cousin gives me a Barbie doll. This Barbie had a ponytail and I liked that. I played with her and put the new underwear on her wishing it were a new dress instead, what fun a Barbie in underwear,sigh....
The next memory is kind if hard to describe. I remember being lead into a room like a family room, a place with couches and a TV etc. There were adults there having drinks and such, almost like a party of sorts. Then I remember standing in front of these people naked with a boy slightly older then me, maybe eleven or so. He did not want to be there anymore then I did. I remember one of the few clear voices I heard that night talk about how this boy was a new one from "Boy’s Town” and how I was in training. Boy’s Town is a place in Nebraska where boys go who have been in trouble or who are in foster care I think. We both were made to do things sexually to each other and he had to have sex with me. I remember him saying in my ear that he was sorry to be doing these things to me. He said it so low that no one else could hear him. We both knew if anyone heard him we would be punished severely as talking or communication was forbidden between children during these kinds of things. Somebody was taking pictures and movies of us as we were doing these things and I remember some kind of bright lights set up as well. I do not know what the grownups were doing during all of this except watching. They brought a small lamb in and posed us sexually with that poor creature and took more pictures, maybe a dog was used as well. Then we were moved out into a barn. Here is where it gets very sick… as if all of that was not sick enough. Anyway, the barn was lit up with lights so I do not think this was a usual ritual as they were usually done with candles and such. I believe this was just a sick orgy of beasts and porn pictures, movies etc. This boy and I were used in all sorts of sick ways with the animals and a few times I caught his eye and knew he was sad as I about this. I do believe we must have been drugged at least some as images get blurry at times and I remember feeling floaty a lot. The grown ups were naked in the barn as well and the grownups were doing all kinds of perverted sick things to the animals, each other and us. It was like a sexual frenzy of some sort, a frenzy the boy and I did not share in or like. I have always wondered what happened to that boy. In all the years of my abuse he is the only child I ever remember bonding to or communicating with. I also wonder what happened to the pictures and movies they made of us that night. I imagine a lot of money was made off of us. Later the cousin girl took my Barbie away from me when I went to bed on a couch in an upstairs bedroom. I could hear the girls doing things to each other as well in the next room. I do not know where the girls were during my abuse that night. I do not remember going home but I do remember being in a tree house the next day and eating rhubarb pie that a nice grandmother type woman made. I think she might have lived on the farm. I wonder where she was during the night of hell? Nothing is ever as it seems even with grandmother type women.
I am taking a side trip from my story today as this is very important to the understanding of how I ended up being a ‘Monarch’ kid. So please bare with me as I go through a little history lesson. But please note I am not a historian and do not claim to be. This information is from my personal research and can be gotten easily by anyone who is interested enough to do their own research, which I advise everyone to do. Do not take my word on anything, check it out for yourself. I had been praying for a very long time about how my family managed to get so messed up. I mean, I wondered if my family was just plain evil or if there was a lot more behind the choices they made that hurt so many. Well, what I discovered was amazing and led to a lot more then I bargained for. This is not an exhaustive covering of what I found out, only a highlight. I do not have the time, energy or the inclination to write a book about my ‘Roots’. With that said here goes…
It seems that my great grandfathers' on both my mother’s and father’s side were very much into the Confederate side of the Civil War. Like a lot of other people on the Confederate side they were not happy about the way the war ended, thus they joined up with an underground movement to carry on the ‘confederacy’ sight unseen. This movement was pretty big and had a pretty serious financial backing. It was lead by one person named Albert Pike….AKA Satanist, author of ‘Morals and Dogma’ for the Scottish Rite Masonic order, and organizer of the Knight Of the Golden Circle, who hid and guarded gold and silver caches all over the United States. For more info about this subject I highly recommend the book ‘Shadow of the Sentinel’ by Warren Getler and Bob Brewer, a very amazing and informative book.
Since my family roots then lead into Oklahoma and Texas, the high levels of The Scottish Rite Freemasonry, marriage into the Choctaw and Cherokee tribes, this book was an invaluable source of information. Yes, they all connect and they were all involved in hiding caches of gold and silver, Satanism and secrets, (I wonder why a Chapter of the Skull and Bones is in Fayetteville AR.?) they still are. Am I saying all Choctaws and Cherokees etc. are involved in this? No, most have no idea, about like the average Joe in America has about anything. However, the tribal governments are up to their eyeballs in this stuff as well as our ‘wonderful’ United States’ government. By the way a lot of other tribal leaders sold out as well…. A lot of cover-ups on tribal land to be sure. Let’s face it when it comes to money, power and control there is no race or nationality immune. All are guilty.
Now for lack of time and space I will zoom up to the II world war. Everyone out there who has read or watched the ever wonderful TV knows something about the holocaust. But I am telling you the rest of the story….. After the war there was a government sponsored program called ‘Project paperclip’. Do a basic Google search and you can find all you need on that topic. The government has released their own documents about this project. Basically what they did was ship over here, to Canada, and South America all the wonderful Nazi doctors who preformed all the nice tortures in the holocaust camps during the war. A lot of what these doctors were doing was performing eugenics experiments, as well as perfecting mind control techniques. Since our wonderful government wanted that kind of control…. (maybe in the guise of a terrorist threat) sorry just joking……they sponsored these monsters, hid them in plain sight and gave them an unlimited supply of children, men and women to practice on. Suffice it to say, the biggest part of our military, has been used in this venture as well as a whole lot of the population you would not even begin to believe or comprehend in any way.
Under ‘Project paperclip’ these people developed other programs, MKULTRA and my own favorite MONARCH and many others. This is all connected to Freemasonry by the way. Starting to connect the dots people? My mom’s father was a 33rd degree Scottish Rite Mason, as well as my dad and even though I do not have proof yet, but I can pretty much guess, my dad’s dad was a 33rd degree Mason and well as his dad etc. Who knows who else, as my whole family has always been good at lies, secrets and cover-ups, a nice average American family?
Enter Dr. Joseph Mengele. I was handed over to him before I was to even old enough to go to school, probably even younger if the truth be known. Do a search on him… he is a wonderful man, if you like monsters! So you see people the holocaust did not end in Germany with the end of the war…. It was just moved. And the worst of it, it is still going on and almost no one believes, nor do they want to know about it. While everyone is waving their flags and praising this country as GOD fearing and great, this government is abusing and killing their own people, most of which are children and getting away with it!!!! The average American will not believe, so it continues! WAKE UP AMERICA!!! You think abortion is bad….. And it is, however it is nothing to what they are doing to live babies and children in human sacrifice and torture. I know, I was there, I have seen it, and I know many others who have as well. And we are all labeled as nuts, with false memories! Yeah, my memories are so false that I am willing to risk my life to get this information out. I am having a blast. I just love not having the biggest part of my family behind me, calling me nuts and living in pretty much isolation.
OK, I have to take a break for today….. My blood pressure is rising.
Well a new day and a new entry…. continuing with ‘Roots’.
After being handed over to Mengele, aka Dr. Green, life on the bad lane ramped up. I was handed over, but still under the watchful eye of Mengele, to another handler. I do not know who he was at this time. I called him The Dark Man, I called Mengele, The Dark Man as well, and the next handler I was handed over to at age 11, I called The Dark Man. Even though I know who the third Dark Man is I am not at liberty to expose him at this time. I can say that he is in a well known, “BIG” ministry; however he may still have a chance to get out and repent. At being handed over to the third handler, I was taken to Oral Roberts University to be raped by none other then Oral Roberts himself in a horrible satanic ritual. I am at liberty to expose Oral Roberts because he is a tare through and through. My training and programming proceeded on at ORU. The university was a Monarch programming and mind control center. I assume it probably still is used for that today but I do not know for sure. All I can say it is a sham, a lie, and it is NOT an institution for my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. At the time I was transferred to the ORU programming center, my mom joined a local charismatic Pentecostal church in the Tulsa area. I have no doubt my mom is a multiple herself and did not know that “they” were using her when she joined this church. This church was full of pedophile and satanist’s connected to and with ORU. A lot of the members were also Professors at ORU. So with this all in mind I will continue my story….
After the farm frenzy....The Dark Man was pleased with me so he had sex with me. It was a good thing he was not displeased and so my mom did not die.
My Story II
So after the farm episode I think a lot of things really changed for me as a child. I really felt dirty inside for one thing and I could never seem to get that dirty feeling to go away. I hated myself and began thinking about dying a lot as well. Farm animals scared me after that as I thought they might come after me and hurt me for doing such horrible things to their relatives. I also developed many more alters to handle all different parts of my life that had gotten so out of control. The little girl Judy inside went on and played dolls as well as rode her bike and played like any normal child all the while carrying many dark secrets inside. I remember getting a lot of stomach aches as a child, especially at school. My hate for school never left me. I believe the only good year at school was in the fifth grade when we moved to Okmulgee, Oklahoma. I think that was the only time in my life I was not hurt or taken out of school for ‘programming’. We moved to Tulsa shortly thereafter and that changed. But I am getting ahead of myself. ( I know now that I was taken even then to ORU at my 11th birthday). The farm episode also put a lot of fear in me as well. I became afraid of a lot of odd things. For one thing I have never liked bright lights at night. I guess that is because of the lights they used to film with. Also, I did not get along with other children very well, as I was afraid of their rejection. I did have a few friends but was very guarded and often made myself disagreeable enough to run them off before they rejected me. I cried a lot and easily, however, when I saw someone get hurt I often would start laughing. Not that I thought their pain was funny but because I did not know how to deal with the fear of how other peoples pain made me feel. So when I was really scared, I would usually laugh. It was like my emotions were all crazy and mixed up.
I spent a lot of time alone as a child and often talked to the faceless GOD I really did not know a lot about. All I knew was that He was somewhere up above and I believed He listened to my fears and saw my tears. I believed that somehow He would help me get away from all the bad people. I always felt so alone that a huge ache would claw in my belly almost making me sick from the pain, however, I knew He knew I was here and somehow cared about me. Sometimes though I yelled at GOD and got very mad at Him for not taking me away from all the pain. Sometimes I did not believe He cared at all and had forgotten about me down here. That was when the loneliness was the worst for me. That is when I felt no hope at all. Those were the darkest of times in my life, even darker then the abuse.
It is hard to describe memories that seem to come and go like waves rushing in only to recede back out again. I do not have all of my memories and sometimes that can make me feel a bit crazy like I made this whole nightmare up. I wish I had as that would make it all not true. Then I would just be crazy and not the whole world. But I know this is the truth of my life and what I saw and felt.
I remember long hallways with blue and gray walls that had muted lighting. There were doors along this hall and some had small windows and some did not. It was not a good place to be. Horrible things happened to people behind those doors. I do not know all of what happened behind those doors but I know of what I saw and what The Dark Man told me.
The Dark Man liked to take me places and show me things he thought were important for me to know. One of the places he often took me was the place with the hall and doors. He would show me how they had machines in some of the rooms that would make people do what they wanted them to do, devices that would hurt people until they agreed to comply -- programming is what it is called. I know I was in the shock room a lot. I hated the shock room. Even now I sometimes feel the jolt of that shock machine prodding my brain as it did so many times when I was a child. It is when I enter sleep and it still hurts as it did so long ago. There were times I was taken into rooms where they were doing stuff to people, kids and grownups, and they would force me to watch or participate in the sick things they were doing. Sometimes I was the one who was having the sick things done to. Whatever was going on, it was supposed to be for our programming and discipline. The Dark Man told me a lot that all of the stuff done to me was to keep my family alive and to make me into a useful and special person. I did not want to be useful or special but I did want to keep my family alive and as much as I prayed to die, I fought like a tiger to live. But learning to be useful was a good thing at times as it would get me time. Time away from them and that was always good. What I mean is, if I were being useful I would be sent out to do specific things, like deliver messages etc. and while I was doing that I was often alone for a time. During those times I would often look around my surroundings and find ways to hide or places to just be where no one would bother me for a bit. One time I was sent to deliver a message several blocks from my home and I found the most beautiful hidden park in a private yard. After that I would try and go there as often as I could sneak away and just enjoy the beauty and quiet. I would often try and pray there as well, at least as much as I knew how to. I was about seven or eight when I found that secret park or garden and I would have to crawl under a fence, I think, to get in there. That was in Lincoln Nebraska. Most of the hell in my life started in Lincoln, Nebraska.
There were times when I often did not know who I was. I would live in a fog like state and not really be totally aware of what was going on around me. That made for a very hard time in school when I was not taken out. I could not focus on class work or the teacher and I would lose a lot of information. Then the teachers would get upset at me and think I was not trying to do my work or listen to them. No one really knew who I was, including me. I would play a game sometimes with myself called me, myself and I. Sometimes me, myself and I would have a tea party or we would play checkers or a marble game I used to like to play or maybe a board game. When I played me, myself and I it was usually because I did not know who I was and when I did not know who I was I did not want to play with anyone else. So me, myself and I became good friends and I could trust them not to tell anyone my secret about not knowing who I was. If this sounds confusing to others, in an odd way it never did to me, it was one thing I could do to get some control in my life. Control was one thing I never felt I had so any little bit I managed to find I protected fiercely.
Can a child be lonely? Yes, yes and a hundred yes’s! I believe loneliness in a child is a million times worse then in an adult. How can I describe loneliness as a child? It is a pain that passes all other pains, even physical abuse. At least that was how it was for me. The reason I say this is because when as a child I was being abused I felt alone in that pain. I felt isolated and deserted as well as betrayed by those I thought should love and protect me. And then when I was not being abused, I could not tell anyone about the abuse and I felt so isolated, yet again because I felt dirty and bad all the time and could not trust people to get close to me. I felt I did not deserve love and friendship even as a child. I often felt that if I let anyone get close to me my dirtiness would somehow rub off on them and they would know my horrible secrets. I remember as a teenager being dumped in the street after cult meetings like so much garbage and when at times I would try and hide to avoid being picked up for a meeting, I would hide in alleys by dumpsters. There I would feel like the garbage I was using to hide behind and often I would cry out to GOD to please help me. I was not sure how I wanted to be helped only that I wanted that horrible painful loneliness to go away. What I am saying is that being raped by my dad at the age of five was not as painful as him leaving me lying there all alone bleeding on a cold concrete floor to pick myself up and walk myself up two flights of stairs in pain, still all alone.
So where do I go from here? I have to admit I have not written a word in weeks. This book has become so hard to write, in fact much harder than I suspected it would be. I have realized that my memories are not as clear as I would like them to be so I can write them in a concise way. Also, I have been feeling strangely more distanced from my past since I started this book. Maybe this is a defense of some sort or maybe a program interfering somehow? I truthfully do not know, however, I will give it another go.
I last wrote about loneliness and isolation. Those two words remind me of a lot of things. I remember being separated from people a lot in my programming. If I was at school I was separated from other students by either being physically removed or shunned by other kids. I thought I was a very horrible and bad person for so many kids to hate me so much. I tried to be nice and not cause trouble but nothing I ever did was the right thing to do, so needless to say, I had no self worth or esteem. I have to admit I had a very active imagination. I lived in my make believe world as it was always safe and I was always in control. I cannot tell the number of times kids would tell me how much they hated me, kids who did not even know me would say that.
For now, I think I will get back to The Dark Man again. My love/hate relationship with him seemed to get more intense as I got older. I know now that was the way he planned it to be all along. One time after he had me passed around several men and women to be used and abused on, he very gently wrapped me up in a warm soft coat and carried me to his room. I do not know where I was or what the reason I was used that particular time and I do not know whom the men and women were as well. What I do know is that The Dark Man set it up and then took me out when it was over and treated me like I was his prized possession that he cared for deeply. He washed me in his big bath as well, as he dried me gently. He fixed me hot chocolate and tucked me into bed whispering how special I was and how much he loved me. Who knows when I woke up or where as the memory ends there. It was like that with him a lot though. Even when he raped me he acted like he did it because I was special and because he loved me. How messed up is that. I hated the rapes, but because he was the only person who alluded to me being anything but dirty and worthless, I learned to tolerate even that abuse and even now, as I think back to that time I can feel my head swim with the craziness of it all, my abuser as my friend? I don’t think so!
So, as I grew so did the complicated way my relationship with The Dark Man begin to intensify. He was more obsessed with where I went and with who I was with than my parents were. When I became a teenager and started missing cult meetings he was the one who dished out the most painful punishments. He was the one who prodded me with shocks and poured things into my ears that made me faint with pain. He is the one who took my hand and forced me to take the life of another human being. He is the one who threatened to kill my family if I did not do as I was told. He is the one who had my first born child ripped from my body. Who was he? Who is he? I do not know,( I know NOW) I only know he was The Dark Man, the man who controlled my life from the age five until I was seventeen and even then he haunted my dreams and life from the shadows.
I strove to please the one person in my life who did the most damage while at the same time I tried to run as far away from him as I could get. I cannot put a real name to him as hard as I try but who knows maybe some day it will come in a dream. (And when it came I was floored!)
When I was about 11 we moved to Tulsa, Oklahoma. I hated that town from the start. The street we moved to was full of kids who I was sure were the devil’s children. I was taunted and hit as well as shunned, it was like I had leprosy or something. Most of the families were Catholic, however, down the street was a family who had an alter to satan in their home. They had a daughter and son who I learned later that they were related to my later to be stepmother. There were other cult families in the neighborhood as well so it seemed like this was the neighborhood from hell. I still have bad dreams about that place. We started going to a new church at the time as well. (The one connected to ORU.) That in itself was odd as up to this time in my life church was not a part of our lives. Anyway, it seemed this was some sort of charismatic or Pentecostal church, but I hated it from the start. Everything about it was fake but my mom seemed to love it. My brother started toteing a bible then as well and joined the Jesus People movement. I never understood how he got so involved there as the kids treated him like dirt. I guess he was just trying to find his way in life as well. The grownups all made me feel like I was that same leper the neighborhood kids and the kids at church made me feel. I remember sitting in the pews and wanting to throw hymnals at the pulpit every time the microphone bobbed because all I could think of was a wagging penis taunting me. That made me feel like even more of a sinner. Mom started having these prayer meetings at our home as well. Those were really the pits. I was surrounded by madness, that I was convinced of. Because of my growing anger, my mother was sure I was full of demons and I had developed a serious set of alters by then as well, so my behavior was very erratic to say the least. So, deliverance was the order of the day. While my mom and her prayer partners were holding me down to cast out demons I would panic and fight like a wild animal to make them stop which only convinced them more I was possessed. So, I learned to go limp as that made them think the demons had left and they would then let me go.
Don’t get me wrong, my mom really loved me and she really loved the Lord, however, she was being programmed as well and thought she was doing the right thing. I do not doubt that she was motivated in love and concern for me during this time. She has no idea that half the people she was praying with were full-fledged satanists just using her and many others for their purposes. It still makes me angry to think about how these creeps took my mother’s simple faith in GOD as well as my brother and sister and used them so purposely. To this day I do not think any of them really have a clue as to how they were programmed and used by these people.( my dear brother is figuring it out however, and our relationship has been restored...Praise GOD!)
Hell, satanists ran the biggest part of the ministry in that church. They would get up in front of the people proclaiming their love for Jesus all the while sacrificing human life in the name of Satan/Lucifer. That goes way beyond hypocrisy and passes into the rehelm of pure evil. They would speak in tongues and do their Charismatic wonders, all the time doing the exact same things in satanic rituals. yes speaking the same 'Tongues'. I have heard the same 'Tongues' in all the churches I have been in that believe in speaking in tongues....they are saying the same things.... scarey. Considering how everything I was tought in 'Church' was a lie, I really had to question that practice...and was I suprised at what The Word revealed to me. But I will save that for another day.
This church was connected to Oral Roberts University and Rhema Bible Collage as well. Am I saying Oral Roberts and Kenneth Hagen are/were Satanists? In my mind a huge Yes! But Only GOD knows the truth about their hearts, but what I am saying is that satanic practices as well as programming was done on their campuses. People were abused, ritually murdered and children were sexually abused there as well. I know this because I was one of those children. I was taken to O.R.U. as a child and abused in a room with other people looking on. I was abused by Oral Roberts himself. I was stripped naked and made to stand in the middle of a circle while my body was probed and pinched. I stood while someone put something up my vagina that caused severe pain and blood came running out down my legs onto my feet and onto the floor. I was held up by two men and made to stand there in severe pain until I passed out. I saw this done to other girls as well. I also saw boys sodomized and beaten. I saw babies murdered and their blood drained on blood drenched altars with crosses of what was supposed to be Jesus hanging above. Not upside down like in the movies but right side up trying to make Jesus look guilty and impotent. To this day I hate to see crucifixes with Jesus hanging on them.
I do not remember as much at Rhema Bible college but I do remember being shocked and sleep deprived and put in simulators watching graphic displays of torture etc. I was also shown how the people in Evangelical meetings were hypnotized and programmed to give money and not question anything the Evangelists did. How signs and wonders were used to seduce the masses into submission and compliance. Does anyone believe this? Not many I am afraid to say. It works very well, that is why they do it. People only believe what they want to believe and that is usually what makes them feel good in some way.
To all those that read this, as her daughter Sunshine, I fully support her decision to bring the darkness into the light of the Lord. God is about taking away the bondage of family past and present as well as the religious bondage that has pervaded this family. I have to say I am proud of my mother and have been with her since the time her memories began 18 years ago. Much of the time I have not been the most supportive, understnding or compassionate, but God forgave me, as well as my mother. I have seen the pain and brokeness she has gone through as well as the awesome power of the Lord in her victories from her past, but not without being very painful for my family. My siblings and I did get touched by her past but I have chosen to confront it because satan will not win and will not have my children. Knowledge is a very powerful tool for getting free, and I pray that my family realizes this in that the longer the denial the more they give satan a stronghold and control over their own lives and children. I am praying for their awakening. love you mom, Sunshine!!
I think this the Blog is taking on a life of its own..... and I have to say it is taking a lot out of me. So please, you believers out there, continue to keep me in your prayers. I feel as if I am a voice for many victims out there. This is becoming a story not only about me but about so many others as well, so again I continue.
Going down the tunnel of my mind, who is there? It is quiet, not peace, just quiet. Sometimes it is like walking on graves, and I feel as if I might disturb something better left alone. I am not sure where I am, it seems I am never sure where I am. Time has no meaning. I am not ever sure if anything has a meaning. I hear the sound of my breathing and know I am still alive but that is not as much of a comfort as I need it to be.
So where is this all leading, to another memory in the recesses of my mind or another place in the darkness of my soul? I think I am falling, at least it feels as if I am falling. Will I hit the ground? How bad will it hurt if I do? Can I even feel the pain anymore or am I numb from my soul down? No one knows where I go when my mind wanders off, I do not even know most of the time, however, I know I am not crazy. I do know the places where I go are real; I just do not like going there. But there I am going just the same. ‘Jesus loves me this I know’ looking up at the mountain, writing a message in the dirt with a stick I hear the song ring in my head. What does the message say? What does it say? I am not scared anymore, I just want to make sense out of it all. Let’s just finish this I tell myself, I am growing weary and I do not want to waste the rest of what I think is me.
I am a little girl, at least I think I am a little girl, maybe six or seven? I wanted to be a little girl and I wanted someone to love this little girl. No one did however. I was wearing a plaid dress and was barefooted. As I walked in the water I could feel the cold splashing over my feet. The sun was warm on my head and I could smell a fire burning like a campfire. I keep looking down at my bare feet in the water and kept feeling the warm sun on my head. I hear a bird singing somewhere and wonder why it sings. Not for me, I am sure. “Jesus loves me" rings in my head and I wonder who is He? Does he really love me? Can he really love me? Someone takes my hand and I think I hear them say "it is time", or maybe I just know it in my spirit. I want to stay at the water, it is so clean. I watch my feet as they plod through the grass and step on small stones now and then. I do not mind the sharpness of the stones as it makes me feel connected to the ground. I want to feel connected to anything besides the person holding my hand and to anything but where I am being taken. I feel myself being lifted high into the air. I feel confused and am not sure what is happening around me and to me. Am I being passed around? Nothing makes sense, however, I open my eyes and see the sky, it has some clouds. I close my eyes again and feel hands passing my body around quickly touching me then letting me go. Some of the hands pinch my soft flesh and hurting me. Someone makes me drink something bittersweet, salty and warm. It makes me gag, but I am forced to swallow anyhow. Someone growls, "open your eyes". I do, but I refuse to see. I am hanging upside down, upside down, naked, ashamed, then it is dark. I am alone still hanging upside down. I open my eyes slowly and think I see the glow of a dying fire. I feel myself leave my body and start flying over the trees. It is dark and I do not know where I am but I know I am alone. I look down and see a little girl hanging upside down by her feet tied to a pole. Wait; I see her legs are spread and tied to a cross pole as she hangs upside down. Her hands are tied over her head, or under? It is confusing. She is naked and I think she is bleeding. Or maybe she is painted? Her eyes are open in horror, but she does not see. There is only emptiness in the growing darkness. I have to go back to her but I do not want to go back, not ever, however, I know she needs me. I go back and give up my freedom only to feel her pain.
Thinking back to those years so long ago sometimes makes my brain feel so pained and crazy. I often wonder how much I sanitize my memories just for the sake of my family who might read this someday, or for other readers so they will not hate my family and judge them too harshly. I suppose maybe they need to be judged harshly but, weirdly enough, I still feel some loyalty to them and especially my mom. My mom and I have had a hard relationship from the start. Was it ‘them’ who planted crazy ideas in me that I had to somehow protect her all my life or was it her because she refused to see what was going on in our own home? I really am not sure, at least not consciously anyway. Maybe deep down inside of me I know the truth to this one but am not ready for the truth I would find. I know the truth of the things I remember but I also know the truth of the things I choose not to remember. Why can I not deal with the truth of where my mom might have been during all of this? Why can I not accept the truth that my mom may have had a part in this, if by no other means in just the fact that she chose to look the other way? I cannot seem to wrap myself around that fact even if it seems to be a glaring reality to others. I find it horribly unacceptable to contemplate, much less accept as the truth. So where does that leave me in all of this? Does this issue hinder me from really getting to the core of my healing from the past? How can I forgive her if I can not even allow myself to consider this as a huge part of the pain I suffered as a child and even now as an adult?
I remember so many times saying to myself and others....’My mom was never that bad, no, she was a good mom, the best she knew how to be, so in truth what does that mean? ‘In truth’, now there is a million dollar question for me. Can I deal with the truth or do I need to sanitize the situation so I can feel safe? But will I feel safe? How can I be safe without all the truth? What if the truth is that my mom failed in keeping me safe and protected? I guess I can accept her failing but what if she chose to fail for her owns selfish reasons? What if I was sacrificed for a lifestyle or for the comfort of an illusion? Doing your best and blowing it is one thing but deliberately choosing to allow your child to be hurt because a person does not want to deal with the consequences of exposure as it might upset a lifestyle is unacceptable. Could my mom have given me over to the proverbial wolves because she did not want to give up the ‘American Dream'? Or afraid of what ‘The neighbors might say?’ Deep inside my gut if I am honest with myself I hear a resounding… YES!! But then on the other hand I hear... TRAITOR!! yelling just as loud in my brain.
So the debate and the pain of believing my mom was/is not what I allowed myself to think is an ongoing battle within me. It is probably one of the hardest battles I will ever have to fight within myself. Maybe there will be more on that later.
Ok. so on with more wonderfully crazy memories….Oral Roberts University is loaded with such memories.
I have been doing some research on good old Oral Roberts University. Wow! what an eye opener that has been. First off, when I drove up to the entrance the first thing to catch the eye are these massive so-called praying hands. I say ‘so-called’ because they are not in a natural praying pose. When most people pray using their hands they either fold them over each other or hold them palm to palm. These hands are doing neither one of those poses. They are touching at the tips of the fingers with the palms separated forming a triangle, a classic Masonic pose. ’Hidden in plain sight’ is what I told my daughter who was with me. Then I noticed that the main part of the university is built up on mounds or rather a huge mound. As we drove around back we saw an entrance to the underground part, like garage doors. It was a huge confirmation to my memories of the ritual abuse I endured in underground rooms there. Then as we looked around at the buildings we noticed how everything there is built with triangles or what we then thought were circles. Later when I got home I looked at satellite maps on the internet and got a huge shock. The whole university seems to be loaded with occult and Masonic symbols. Diamonds, triangles of all kinds, hexagram and pentagram shaped buildings which looked like circles on the ground, so much to take in -- it was incredible. I wondered why no one had ever exposed this place before as it is such a blatant display of masonic and occult symbols. Phallic symbols so obvious it made me sick, too much to take in. I knew we had to go back. I also knew I had to expose this satanic place. I started doing research and the more I researched the sicker I seemed to feel.
I had to face the truth. My whole family had been affected by this satanic place. I had heard about Oral Roberts most of my life. I was never allowed to say anything bad about him and it was even alluded to that bad thoughts about him could get harsh judgment from God. Then there were his side kicks. Kenneth Hagin, Kenneth Copeland, Katherine Khulman, Benny Hinn and many more were of the same God inspired anointing. At least that was what I was taught. These people had a special hot-line to God and were so special that the rules of regular mankind did not apply to them. Who was I to argue the point? Even though I was being abused on a regular basis by the people who served these people I was programmed to not question anything they said or did. Hell, I did not even remember. I was so split and programmed I could not even function in any real way. It was in the late sixties, early seventies that we moved to Tulsa, Oklahoma and it was there that the exposure and abuse from this ‘Charismatic’ group started on my life. I was eleven years old, the perfect age to start the next part of my programming.
This is a part of my story that I am having a heck of a time getting through. Maybe it is because I am still going through it in a way as I am coming out of some serious denial and getting some more serious memories. Memories, some people have a whole batch of wonderful memories about their life to pull from and draw comfort from. I wish that were my case. It seems that the more I remember the less I feel any comfort for me to even remotely draw from. I find myself going from feeling angry, to feeling despondant, to being relieved to know the truth and validate all the things I already knew to be true. Mostly I am glad to not be crazy. I feel as if I have spent a lifetime thinking I was crazy. Now I know that I was fed a lie and even if the truth is painful, I am relieved to be living in the truth and not ‘their’ lies. ‘Their’ lies have cost me a lot and given me a lifetime of pain as well as those around me. So where is this all taking me? Well, in a round about way I am working up to another part of my story and rambling seems to help me get there. I need to back up a bit before I do the Tulsa part of my story. In between living in Lincoln, Nebraska and Tulsa we moved to a small town in N.W. Iowa. I was about eight or nine then. I am sure that was a special town from hell all its own. I hated it there from day one. I started the fourth grade as the ‘new kid’ from the city amongst all the ‘farm kids’. Now I do not know if all farm kids are like these were but this batch was horrible, especially to this shy, overly sensitive, scared little redheaded girl. I was terrified of my own shadow and they could sense the fear. It probably did not help that I was switching personalities like a professional actress. I am sure I seemed quite bizarre to these kids. I think this was the time in my life when I became aware that I was very different from other kids and was also aware that other people lived inside of me. Not in a way I could tell anyone about or understand, but in a way that I often saw myself standing outside of my body watching myself do odd things. I would also find myself in odd places and I really did not know how I had gotten there. Other kids would treat me strangely like I was a witch or something. They would go from hating me and threatening me to acting scared of me. I did not understand their inconsistency and that they were reacting to my inconsistency.
I remember on a Summer day before I went into the fifth grade. I was alone at home just after having gotten back from the public pool. I often went to the pool alone, at least physically alone. In my mind I went to be with an alter who only came out at the pool. I was scared of water and she liked to swim so we would agree to go together. Anyway, this one particular day after we got home she got into an argument with another alter. I do not remember why but I remember standing beside my body and observing these two young girls fighting like sisters. Somehow I knew they were connected to me and it never occurred to me that the whole situation was odd. I thought it was normal, at least for me. I did know this was not how it was for everyone else. Another thing I remember about that argument was that some workmen were outside working on phone lines or whatever and I felt embarrassed that these girls were yelling where the men outside could hear them. It was kind of like not wanting an outsider hearing a family fight. This was also when I started being aware of alters who did things I did not agree with. One would go to stores and switch price tags on things she wanted to get them real cheap. Dolls, crayons, paper etc. whatever she thought she had to have. I do not know where she got the money to buy anything in the first place, I would stand by and watch her wondering if we were going to get put in jail or something. I was sure it was stealing somehow, if not out right lying. I had a very strong code of morality. Anyway, I never got any satisfaction out of her ill gotten purchases.
Sometime during the year we were up there in Iowa between the fourth and fifth grade I was horribly raped by a teenage boy. My surface memory and what my mom told me was this. I was walking home one evening at dusk and a teen boy called me from his yard as I was walking down the road. I went up to the fence to see what he wanted against my better judgment. He said he wanted to show me something. I still do not know why I went as I remember having a bad feeling about him, but went I did. He was standing behind a wooden fence that had horizontal slats and I remember that there was a big house in the background with the lights on. The house sat way off the road and was kind of on the outskirts of town not far from where I lived. The boy was wearing a striped tee-shirt and at the time I thought shorts as his legs were bare as well as his feet. The fence was covering his private parts. Then I remember somehow being near the fence and seeing him shove something between his legs. I felt very confused as to what I was seeing as I did not really know anything about how men’s privates looked. Then his huge engorged penis popped out and all I remember next is running home in a terrified state. I did not remember how I got home just running into the yard and crying to my mom. I also remember being terrified that he was going to climb into my window and kill me that night. My mom’s version was that the boy had just gotten out of a mental hospital and his parents left him alone that evening. He had scared me but did not hurt me. I did remember having a fear of my neck being exposed from then on and hated turtle neck sweaters as well, they made me feel as if I were choking. It got so bad that my mom had to take me to the Doctor to see if I had a thyroid condition that was making my neck sensitive. I also had a lot of stomach problems I was treated for as well.
When I started getting my memories back some of my first memories were of this horrible time...but now the rest of the story. When this guys penis popped out I left and an alter named Nicki took over for me. What happened to her was a nightmare. It seems he managed to grab her and pull her through the fence. Nicki fought like a lion but he was a very strong young man and was in a mental sexual frenzy so I am sure he was pumping some pretty potent adrenalin as well. I am still not sure how he got us close enough to grab us, that part is still not clear in my mind. Anyway, he managed to pen Nicki down and holding her by the neck he shoved his penis in her mouth. She gagged and that made him even madder, so while holding her down with his weight and keeping one had on her throat he managed to rape her violently. At the end of his climax he relaxed enough that he let go of Nicki’s neck and she managed to somehow hit between his legs. He rolled off long enough for her to get up and run. I do not think she hit him very hard though because he was not far behind her as she was running away. He kept yelling that he was going to kill her. I think he would have if Nicki had not gotten away. She ran as far as to the corner but the pain of the rape and assault were catching up with her and as she felt herself slowing down, so Melodie took over and got us home away from him.
I had the vague memories of being scared that night but mostly I was gone for several weeks after that. Why no one seemed to notice my injuries as I am sure there must have been some evidence is anyone’s guess. My worst fear about this is that my mom did notice but as usual made the decision to look the other way and not make a scandal out of it. I am sure a deal was made with the parents of the boy and he was put away for life. I think they had money. Anyway I do not really feel any anger for the boy and never have. I guess I always felt he was more a victim then a predator. What he did to me was not so much an assault on me but an assault on what had probably been done on him. Even as a child I knew his mind was gone. I already knew that happened to some people. I had seen it too much already. I also knew that I had to hold onto my mind with everything in me or else I would end up like him and so many others.
Post script to this story…..
I now know why I felt compelled to go to the fence when that teenage boy called to me. He used a trigger word or phrase that allowed a cult alter out who would respond to his command. This young man was in rituals with me and the programmed part that was out and in control of him knew who I was and how to make me come up to the fence. When he yelled out to me ‘little girl, little girl come see the surprise I have for you’ it sent a programmed code to the alter who would respond. That alter went over to the fence. That is why I do not really remember walking up to the fence. I am still not sure who that alter was but maybe that will come to me later as more memories surface. I do think that the boy’s programming was breaking down or going haywire somehow and that he was becoming dangerous and hard for then to control. No mistakes allowed with this bunch so I am sure he was taken out. Anyway that is why it was all covered up like it was.
Crazy the things I remember about that time in my life. I remember one of my littler alters named Buttons coming out at school and always asking the first grade teacher for color pages to do. She was so excited when a bad weather day forced us to stay inside during recess as she knew that teacher would always have color pages ready to hand out. I wonder if that teacher ever wondered why a fifth grade student would want to do first grade color pages all the time. Then there was Harmony who would come out at recess and play with the little kids on the playground. Since Buttons was too shy to play Harmony would come out and entertain the little kids at recess. I never fit in with kids my own age so I was glad to let them take over. Rachel would do the school work for us. But I remember her getting so frustrated at being taken out of school so much and missing classroom lessons. It was hard to catch up on so much missed time and work. She often felt dumb and stupid. A lot of the teachers made her feel that way as well. Numbers scared us all and really confused the whole system so needless to say no one was ever good at Math and later forget about understanding Algebra.
I have read so many accounts of multiples being so smart and knowing so much…we never felt very smart, seemed like life was always a struggle for us especially in school. If anyone in my system knows a foreign language or can unlock the mysteries of physics I have not met them yet. And believe you me I will be the most shocked if I ever find out an alter of mine knows any language but English. I guess that was one reason it took me so long to admit I even was a multiple. I mean I did not feel smart enough. Most books talk about multiples extraordinary IQ’s, I had mine checked once as an adult and it was about 127… not a genius by far. I believe that most of us are just ordinary people with unordinary skills to stay alive. If one could measure genius by survival techniques then by all mean we multiples are 100% genius.
I am saying all of this because for a long time I really thought I was a bad multiple. Now I know that sounds crazy but this was how I felt. I was ashamed about who I was because I could not claim I was all that smart. I thought you had to be a genius to be in the ‘multiples club’. See how our programming affects our thinking? Isn’t that nuts? That is why I am adding this part to my story, so that any multiples out there who feel this way will not feel so crazy and alone about it. I was very ashamed to let on that I did not feel all that smart or special to be a multiple. It was just who I was, period.
During this time is when I start to remember the alleys and bridges. Those were places I used to hide. I come to myself and would be hidden under bridges in all kinds of weather and I remember not always being dressed appropriately for the weather most times. I often woke up to myself in alleys and not’ dressed for the weather’ so to speak, as well. I am still not sure what those memories are all about but if I get them I will write about it. Unlocking yet another mystery about my past is an ongoing thing here.
I also remember starting to act out on other children at this time. My dad had a man who worked for him moved to this town not long after we moved there. The wife of this man ended up years later marrying my dad…yes they were in the whole mess together. Anyway this family had two small children, a boy and girl. For some reason I really disliked the little girl. She was about four years younger then me. I liked the little boy much better; he was about six years younger. Anyway any chance I got I would torment this poor girl. I would pull her pants down and make her go without them, I put her in a dog pen and would not let her out, mean things like that. What was worse was that I did not understand why I did those things to her and was very ashamed of the part of me who did. I always felt so angry around her. I never felt that way about the boy. One day I locked them both in a dog pen and would not let them out. When the little boy started to cry I felt so bad I never did anything to them or any other kid again. For most of my life I felt like the worst kind of person to have done such mean things to that girl and boy. I realize now I really did not do all that much to them, it was mostly how I felt about it that was so bad. Like when the alter who changed price tags made me feel. But somewhere inside I knew I could be bad and I did not like that about myself at all. I lived with the shame of how I felt then as a child about myself for many years.
Those two kids are grown now and I am sure they endured many hells like I did as well when they were children. I only hope they can forgive me for taking my pain out on them during that time in my life.
The year just before my eleventh birthday we moved back to Oklahoma. It was like one day I came home from school and my parents were loading up a u-haul truck. My dad threw away a lot of my favorite toys that day. Anyway off we went to Okmulgee Oklahoma. We lived there only a few months, long enough for me to finish my fifth grade year in school. I have to say that was probably the best year in school I ever had. For once I was not the odd one out and managed to make a few friends. I do not think I was taken out of school there like all the other places. My older sister who had been gone about two years showed up while we were there as well and I was thrilled to see her after so long a time. She left home right after she graduated high school but that is her story and she has never really talked about it to this day.
So to continue on....
My sister is eight and a half years older then me. All I really remember about her is that I adored her. She was pretty, smart and she loved me even when I was a brat. I know she was a straight ‘A’ student in school and did not smoke or get into any trouble. She was popular and sang in plays etc. but that seemed to change when she was sixteen. All I know by what I heard, that she was raped at sixteen by a black boy and she went nuts after that. What I remember is that my dad beat her because she dated black guys. During one particular beating my brother tried to defend her and took a major beating him self, I just huddled in a fetal position in my bedroom praying my brother and sister would not be killed. My idea about this is something worse happened to her and the dating of black guys was her way of rebelling against my dad as he hated black people. Anyway she split as soon as she graduated from high school.
I remember my brother being pretty much a loner who had an affinity with senior citizens and spent a lot of time in senior homes playing chess with the old men. He was not a trouble maker and I do not remember him ever getting in trouble. I do remember him being yelled at a lot, beat, and put down. He picked on me from time to time like all older brother’s and I annoyed him like kid sisters tend to do but as I said before I was a bit afraid to get close to him as I was always told he might kill me or he might be killed. I know now my brother would never kill me, he probably would kill for me….he is very loyal to those he loves. We have been blessed in the last few months of mending our relationship and have become great support for each other. He is a wonder to me and I love him very much. I can add a lot about my sister and brother, however that is their story to tell about, their own hell. And even though I do tell their story in part through my own, I want everyone out there to know that I love them very much and they are incredible people in themselves. I am blessed to call them my brother and sister.
I do know now that while at Okmulgee I was taken to Oral Roberts University for the ceremony when I turned eleven. My sister came for a visit while we were living in Okmulgee and stayed for a short time. She told me about how she gave her life to Jesus and asked me if I wanted to give my life to him as well. We kneeled beside my bed and I prayed for Jesus to come into my life and save me. Although I had no idea what that really meant it seemed the right thing to do at the time.
Anyway right after the school year closed we moved to Tulsa. The next chapter in my life of hell started yet again when we moved there.
My parents rented a house in a neighborhood full of kids so one would think that would be a great place. Wrong! It was a major nightmare from day one. I know now it was a neighborhood of Satanists on their way up so to speak. Most of these kids were mean, deviant, and angry. I was instantly hated. My initiation consisted of being beat up by a group of kids. I think things were so bad then that a part of me to this day is not fully able to recover all the memories. My mom started in a Pentecostal church then as well and that is when my mom, brother and sister got real into Oral Roberts University. My sister married a man she did not love about that time and my brother was in high school. We were not allowed to attend my sisters wedding and were told it was because there were black people there. Anyway who knows what that was all about?
I was a wild child. I drank when I could get it; I smoked cigarettes, as well as pot and was very promiscuous. I also had a mouth on me that cussed like a sailor. My brother was the kind of kid who carried a bible at school. I probably would have thrown it…. My wild child phase started when I was about 12. I became promiscuous when I was 13. More on that later….
So back to O.R.U., well this church my mom started getting into was a direct link to O.R.U. It seems a lot of the students went there as well as financial supporters etc. I can also testify to the fact that most of the people who stood up in front of the church each week were full blown Satanists. A lot of the people who lived in our neighborhood were connected to O.R.U. as well. I was taken to these so called ‘Vesper’ meetings at night and as the students were singing in ‘the spirit’ I blacked out. What all that happened to me I am still not sure about as I do not have all of my memories about that place but what I do remember is pretty horrible.
On my eleventh birthday I was taken to a room under the so-called ‘prayer tower’ and ritually and sexually abused by Oral Roberts himself. I have seen Oral Roberts ritually sacrifice a human being. I have seen him drink blood and heard him praise Satan. I am not telling all of this to destroy this mans reputation or get even. I am telling this for all those who were hurt, raped and killed by him and all the other perpetrators out there. I am telling this because these people use the name of Jesus as if they were Christians but are fakes and liars. I am telling this because of all the deceptions these people have used and are still using in the name of Jesus Christ while leading people to hell. I am telling this because if I do not speak the truth and expose the lies and deception of these people I will be just as guilty as they are.
During this time I was still being taken out of school to be abused and programmed. The anger in me grew to new heights. I was like a wild cat most times and started showing out at school. I skipped school, I had no respect for the teachers and I spent a lot of time either standing in the hall or in the office. I started sneaking out at night then as well. I would get on my bike in the wee hours of the morning and just ride all over our part of town in Tulsa. I had no fear of the streets. Truthfully I felt much safer on the streets then I did at home or at school.
Ironically during that time of the ages 11 and 12 a black minister who was a friend of my sister started writing me. My mom never seemed to question the mail I got from a stranger but I am glad she didn’t. He was called Bro. Frank. He sent me nice letters telling me how special I was to Jesus and how he was praying for me. He would make me silly little books that made me laugh and gave that little girl the feeling that she was special to someone on this planet, something she had never felt before except for her grandmother who was long gone. I will always have a place in my heart for Bro. Frank and even though I know he has gone to be with the Lord, I believe he was one of the first true believers I ever knew. And I do believe his prayers sustained me for many years to come. I thank GOD, and my sister for the gift of Bro. Frank. I think I might still even have one of his letters after all these years and if I can find it I will try and post it. I do believe it might bless everyone out there even after all these years.
I think I am going to try and take a break right now and go look for that letter… I think it is an important part of my story. I believe that because, I want everyone out there to know that no matter how little something seems to be, those small things, especially when done for a child can do big things in their lives in the long run. Never discount anything you do for a little one for the cause of Christ…. So with that I am going to look for a long ago letter…..
I could not find the whole letter from so long ago but I did find this...
So I am just going to copy what I found...
Enjoy and be blessed ... :)
Here are a few thoughts which never grow old. Think on them and grow just as beautiful in the hearts of others as you so desire....
Kind hearts are the gardens,
Kind thoughts are the roots,
Kind words are the blossoms,
Kind deeds are the fruits.
He serves all who dares to be true...
A good deed is never lost: he who sows courtesy,
And he who plants kindness, gathers love.
Of all the earthly music, that which reaches the
farthest into heaven, is the music of a loving heart.
It is just nice to be nice...
Love, Brother Frank
There were more pages to this letter however through the years they have gotten lost. It is a miracle these are still around, but I think everyone can get an idea what kind of man he was.
He was trying to plant good seeds into a child's heart to take root and make her a better person.
He was the only person to have ever taken the time to do that. I am sure he had better things to do then send letters like these to a lonely child, but he took the time just the same.
Let us all learn a great lesson from Bro. Frank ....
Always make time to touch a child's heart for the Lord, who knows what it might mean in the end...
Love in Christ,
I pray everyone was blessed by Bro. Frank yesterday….
Now I am off again …
I have been praying about what to write about today and so I went back to some of my journal notes and found some things I wrote a while back in anticipation of putting a book together… if this blog seems a bit disjointed and skips around a bit, it is because I write what I feel needs to be said on any given day. Maybe not all memories all the time because we all need a break from the drama do we not? Also with writing a lot of these memories other memories come forth as well and I need time to process them.
The last few days I have been thinking about truth and why people hate truth. Why the fear it and why they run from it. Now I do not claim to have all the answers to those questions but here are a few thoughts I have had about truth…..
I am convinced that the reason why people hated Jesus so much, and still do, is because He was and is truth.( John 14:17) He is all truth and He does not always make people feel good or look acceptable. He exposes them for what they really are, not that He is mean or unfeeling but because He wants to heal them and set them free. (John8:32) I should know as He has exposed me on a number of occasions with the lies of my past. No one can be healed and set free if they are in denial about the truth. The truth really does make one free but it hurts like hell. But then so does lies and lies wrap a person up and binds them for life. There is no freedom in lies but people are in the illusion that lies can be covered and the appearance of happiness is what counts. The appearance of happiness is the biggest illusion with lies because the people who pay for that illusion are usually the most innocent, and that is the blood of children.
I often hear Christians proclaim how much they love Jesus but when confronted with truth they are usually the first ones to get angry and deny that truth. So, if they really love Jesus and He is truth, how can they go on in denial of that truth? The way I see it is that if you love Him, you love Him in truth, or you do not love Him at all. It does not matter how much a person speaks in tongues, or how much they prophesy, or how much they claim to hear God’s voice or go to church, if they are not in truth then it is a lie and they are not in Him they are in the lie. Now if that sounds judgmental then so be it but it is scriptural. Did Jesus not say (John 14:6) ‘I am the way, the truth, and the life’? Did Jesus not say that there was no truth in Satan? (John 8: 42-47) So if Jesus is the truth and Satan is the lie then who does a person serve if they refuse the truth? How can a person serve Jesus if they refuse the truth and stay in denial? You can not mix truth with a lie, because it then all becomes a lie. (Matthew 6:24) The bible says you can not serve two masters least you love one and hate the other. Well then if you serve the lie more then the truth who is the master you love and who is the master you hate? Now if anyone should ever read this besides me I am more then sure I will make a few people uncomfortable if not downright mad.
The blood and pain I was forced to shed and endure as a child is crying out for truth and justice along with all the other children who were used abused and even killed back then and even now. As long as people refuse to believe the truth and deny it more children will be used and hurt and killed. Christians get all emotional about abortion but then human sacrifice in their own church basements goes un-noticed. “Not in my church’ they say. I say’ you people are dead wrong! Human sacrifice is right under your nose yet you chose to ignore it because it makes you uncomfortable. Hell most of you ignore abuse in your own homes such as ‘my husband is a deacon, I can not look at the fact that he rapes our daughter every night’ or ‘he is such a nice man, how could he possibly be molesting the boys/girls in our church?” “I love you Jesus but please do not make me speak out or leave my land of denial”, is that not what most Christians say? (Romans 1:25) Now I say, how can you really claim to love Jesus and belong to Him if you refuse the truth? If you have done it to the least of these you have done it to Him. (Matthew 18:6) If people allow children to be used and hurt and do not speak the truth they are as guilty as the ones who hurt them.
So it seems this year especially has been a year of coming to terms with the fact that if I stay the course and pursue truth I will lose most of my family, walk mostly alone on this planet and feel a lot of pain,(Matthew 10: 37-39) However; that pain is not the horrible binding pain of carrying the lie, it is not the pain of choosing to ignore the pain and truth of the lie, or of walking away from all the tears and blood shed by the innocents because of the lie. I no longer live alone with the pain of what I may have lost because I have gained my Savior standing right beside me sharing the pain. Because of Him I will never again be alone and through Him I can help lead others to the truth. I know this is a lonely walk because it always has been for all believers of God’s truth.
What if I have lost my children? Would I have my children at the expense of my Savior? I think not. My children need a mom who stands for truth, not another person who perpetuates the lie. That is their only hope for salvation, truth in Christ Jesus. Truth they can see lived through me, not a fake sell out mom who loves the lie more then them. Who loves the world more then the Savior.
I love you Lord Jesus! That is the truth! And His truth does set you free!
Another day another part of my story……
What to say next about my life? Well as I said before I became very rebellious and angry when I was about 11 or 12 years of age. If you have been keeping up with my blog thus far it is probably easy to understand why.
When I started 6th grade in Tulsa I was put into a school called Grimes Elementary. A hell hole to be sure. Anyway, I had a teacher who hated me on sight. In retrospect I can see how she was part of my programming at the time. But then as a child all I knew was that she hated me and was trying to make my life hell. One particular day we had to write a short story and read it in front of the class. I got up to read mine and when I finished this teacher proceeded to tell me how stupid I was and many other degrading things. She did this while I was standing there in front of the class. Shamed and humiliated I went to my seat and felt an anger rise up in me that I had never felt before. Ironically even after all I had already been through this one teacher managed to do what a lot of others could not, make me feel hate. Oh how I hated her. Sometime after that happened, that day during recess a few girls and I were sitting on some monkey bars discussing what had happened to me in class. They agreed that teacher was evil to the core. We came up with a chat of sorts about the teacher, and as this was during a time when a lot of protests etc. we were shown on TV, we imagined we were going to start a protest. Not in reality, just between us, you know kids venting. Besides this was just between 3 or so girls…. Not a big deal. Well it turned into a very big deal. Another girl who was this teacher’s snitch/pet and ironically lived in the next street from me, and her dad was a professor at ORU, overheard us talking and ran straight to this teacher. She told this teacher I was starting a protest. After recess this teacher stopped me by hitting my shoulder and said I was in big trouble. I went into the bathroom after that and when I was leaving, this same teacher stopped me again and shoved me into the cinder block wall slamming my head against it. She told me once again I was in big trouble. I was seething in anger by this time. I went into my class and sat down, and before the teacher came into the room I said under my breath “I just wish she would go to hell” and as you can guess I was overheard by her pets and as soon as she walked in one boy chimed up in a proud, victorious voice saying “You should have heard what Judy said!” To make a long story short, I was taken to the office but on the way I was stood in front of every class down that hall and this teacher told all the kids in these classes…. “This is what a rotten, horrible child looks like; she will never amount to anything. Do not be like her” or something pretty close to that. But you get the idea. Amazingly not one teacher said a word or tried to stop her. What does that say about them and the whole school? I was crying by this time but not in pain, but seething anger and hate. Not a good combo by any means. I was taken to the office but I blacked out and have no memory until the next morning when I returned to school. The next day I was taken out of my home room, locked in a very small supply room, given stacks of books, and a long list of work to do. I was not able to get out, see other kids and I was told I was too horrible a child to be near other kids. I could not eat lunch with my peers, but if I wanted they might let me out to eat with the 1st graders. But I do not think they let me out as I remember being hungry and drawing a picture of lunch and eating it. I was let out of the room long after the other kids had gone home for the day. When I got home I told my mom what had happened and the next day she took me back to school and confronted the principle. He admitted they had planned to keep me in the room for a week. Wow, he did not deny it! But if I told the teacher I was sorry my punishment would be complete. My mom made me tell that sorry teacher I was sorry. All I remember as I was forced to tell her that was in my mind I was saying’ I am not sorry! You should be sorry! You all should be sorry! I hate you all!” And my insides burned. I was so angry that I shook my fist at my unseen GOD and yelled at him. ‘Where are you? Why won’t you help me?” After that I was not the same child. The wild child was born. I would go to church with my mom and at times she would haul me in screaming in anger. I hated church and all the phonies; I hated almost everyone and everything. I started smoking, I started cussing, I was a messed up little girl.
Now on the flip side of my life, the side my alters had to deal with. Not only was I being used and abused in satanic rituals, I was being prostituted to local people as well. And most of them were ministers and priests as well as other “churchy” people. But local business men and politicians were in the mix as well. I was taken to Roy Clark’s ranch outside of Tulsa and used during parties like some kind of party favor. I saw several famous people there and a lot were in the entertainment industry. Truthfully I could not tell the entertainment people from the politicians and ministers etc. I remember going with a friend when I was about 14 to her catholic church and recognizing several priests there. All pervs…. My friend hated them as well and had great anger toward them. No doubt she was a victim. We were there to deliver a package or something so do the math, it is easy to figure out what was going on.
I know hate and anger is a bad thing in most cases, however, I think it was a life saver in a lot of ways during that time in my life. The reason I say that is because of that anger boiling in me I fought against what was happening to me even more then I would have had I been passive and compliant. Passive and compliant is not what I was or am today. I do not mean that to say I did not have alters in me who went along with the things I was forced to do because obviously I did do those things. What I am saying is that rebellion was setting in, and I was starting to form a base inside of me of serious moral right and wrongs. I did not just except all that I was told and taught as fact, and the sum end to what I was going to accept and be in my life. I knew I had little control over what was happening to me during that time, but I had a firm resolve inside that somehow, someway I was going to escape ‘their’ control and change the course of my life. Even though I was at times shaking my fist at my unseen God, I still had a place deep inside that I just could not let go of. I knew He had to be bigger then my situation and life and the He was somehow going to be the answer to my freedom from this mess I was forced into.
I am not going to say I understand all the reasons why I had to endure all that I did as a child and through a large part of my life, and however odd as it might sound to some, I always truly believed there was a plan. A plan much bigger then the pain I was forced to endure. Some might say ‘how can your God allow such things to happen?’ Well I do not think that was the plan in the beginning, however, being a God who gives man a free will to choose right and wrong, good and evil and all other entities in the universe the same choice then it stands to reason that the people and entities who did these things to me and others had a choice. I had a choice as well and with that choice I choose to not be like the ones who were on the side of pure evil. Maybe my ideas and beliefs are too simple and lame for some however, my faith in my unseen God through His son Jesus Christ is what has sustained me in great pain and adversity and is what has given me the strength to fight and not become like the perpetrators in my life. Not one person I have ever met has shown me a better way. If the need to believe in something bigger then me and to put my faith in my Lord and Savior makes me seem weak, then you are right. I am weak. Any strength I lay claim to is from and through my Savior. Without my faith I admit I am sunk and without hope. But through Him I know I can do all things. I know that because I am still alive and able to write this story.
Now with saying all of that I have to say that staying in hate and anger is not a good place to be. It will eventually eat you up and make you just like the people and entities you do not want to be like. But forgiveness and letting go of that anger and hate is a process just like everything else and it is a choice as well. I chose to let go. I am not saying I do not get angry and do not feel anger at the evil ones who do these things even today because I do. I also have to admit that forgiveness is an ongoing thing in my life. But I choose to forgive on faith, because I often do not feel very forgiving. But un-forgiveness hurts only the person who does not forgive. It rarely ever affects the people you do not forgive. Un-forgiveness is like a cancer of the soul. It eats away until there is nothing left inside of the person who is harboring it. So through my faith I often cry out to my Savior and ask for His help in forgiving all the people who have hurt me in my life. And in amazement I stand in awe as He takes away the chains of un-forgiveness from my heart.
I honestly have intentions to post more then I do each day, but when I start writing out my story I have to admit I can feel myself trying to dissociate and I have to quit long before I want to. So please bear with me. I can only write this in small increments. But I will press on with God's help and many prayers.
It is hard to describe how life was for me as a pre-teen and adolescent. I guess the best way to describe it is by saying it this way. I felt as if I was always walking into a revolving door. I would step in and never know what happened to me or where I went, I would only be left with a sense of things being a skewed when I walked out of the same revolving door back into the only reality I, the surface Judy was ever allowed to know. I knew instinctively that things were wrong somewhere but I just could not figure it out. I often saw these other people who looked a lot like me do things that did not make sense to what I thought I knew. Talk about crazy, I always felt crazy and out of control.
I started baby sitting when I was 12 and I know now that basically the kids I watched were like me. One such family I baby set for lived down the street from us. They had 3 children, but I only took care of two. I was told that the oldest was in some kind of home. The other two were a girl about 6 or 7 and a boy about 8 or 9. The girl was way older acting then her actual age and the boy way younger acting. They were good kids however, and I enjoyed watching them. Their mom was into the political scene in Tulsa and the Oklahoma area in general and they had some pretty high connections. One night when I came to babysit, none other the John Glenn was there standing in the living room. I did not like him right off the bat. What I did not know ‘the surface Judy’ was that he was one of the politicians I had ‘serviced’ on a pretty regular basis. I remember him being arrogant and conceited. He tapped me on the chest three times and said “we are going to a very important party, because you are responsible you have been chosen to watch over the children”, then I remember him giving me an autographed picture of himself and patting me on the head. That is all I remember, however, I always hated that picture but for some reason I kept it in a box with a book my dad gave me of the lunar missions. I was not allowed to throw the ‘space’ stuff I was given away. I never thought to question that. Anyway, as an adult I carried that stuff around until my house burned down when I was 30 and it went up in smoke. On a side note to this, I heard on TV, the mom of these kids died of a massive heart attack either before or during an important political event in Tulsa. She was probably in her late 30’s, not an old woman by far. Who knows the truth about that? I often wondered what happened to those kids.
I remember another story about when I was 12. After the incident with the ‘teacher’ I decided to skip school and run away. One of my school friends who lived down the street decided she wanted to go with me for some reason or another. She came from a big family and was the oldest child. I liked her a lot as she was an outcast at school and a very gifted artist even then. So anyway, we decided to skip school together. We didn’t really think it through very well and ended up hiding behind a gas station half the day. Her dad came driving up and for some reason she got in and went home with him, I on the other had would not go. I really do not know what I did all day after that, but I do remember that night being cold and walking around my block trying to figure out where to go and realizing there was no where safe to go, period. I ended up at my friend’s house and as I stood by the curve I saw my mom and dad walk up. I knew I was caught but I also knew it would do no good to run. My dad walked up to me and poked me three times in the chest and said in a low voice “the parties over”. Then my memory goes blank. So who knows what happened when I went home. I sure don’t.
We moved into a new house sometime before I turned 13 in a new neighborhood, a much nicer neighborhood on the surface but not in anyway else that I can be sure of. We never did make it to the big time neighborhoods of a lot of the VIP's (very important people) in the church we attended. By the way, my dad never attended church with us which was a sore spot with my mom. That is probably the one thing I have respect for him about. He did not pretend to love, like or care about my GOD…. And was not going to go to a pretend ‘church’ and pretend he did.
One reason I think we did move to this particular neighborhood was because it was on the next block from an apartment complex and bar where I was used to ‘service’ a lot of people. As well as near a high rise office building I was taken to and where I had a lot of programming done on me. I guess you could say ‘easy access’.
My life was becoming like a house of mirrors and I for the life of me could never figure out what was real.
One thing I remember back then during my teen years was the feeling of the revolving door becoming more and more a part of my life. I always felt disconnected to anything around me and often thought I was not even a real person. I would at times feel so disconnected to my body I would hit myself over and over on the head or slap myself on the face trying to connect with any feeling even if it was pain.
I used to have people come up to me all the time and tell me they saw me at such and such a place and I had no idea what they were talking about. I got to where I thought maybe I had a double of some sort who lived in town who looked just like me but acted very different. My few dysfunctional friends would often tell me I did things and said things I had no memory of. That would make me mad as I thought they were just trying to screw with my head. I would often have no memory of going to school or coming home but would ‘wake up’ in class not ever knowing how I got there or where I had been. I wondered if other people lived that way but I was afraid to ask. I had other personalities who I guess did what school work that got done and things like that but nothing was on a consistent basis, mostly because I was taken from school so much to programming centers or to service someone or another, or whatever was decided for me to do. How I even got passing grades is beyond me.
Even writing about that time in my life makes me feel a bit crazy. I want to convey how it was for me but all I have is a swirling of memories that makes my head hurt, and since there was so much going on back then I will just pick out a few things that have always stood out to me and write about that.
Music was a huge part of my life since as far as I can remember. I would often go down in the basement as a child and listen to my older sister’s 45’s over and over again. My mom even told me how she would set me in front of the TV as a baby and I would keep time to music on the American Bandstand. I would often go to sleep at night with headphones on playing music all night, anything to not think or hear the voices in my head going round and round. My theme song during my teen years was a song by the group ‘Chicago’ called ‘I just want to be free’, I would write the words to that song in various ways all over my notebooks and journals and play the record over and over a lot on my stereo. I listened to a lot of different kinds of music. I think my alters all had their own taste in music and we listened to it constantly. In retrospect I think much of the music was programming, but then I saw it as escape. Any babysitting money I got went to records and my parents believe it or not never told me to turn it down. I connect music even now to how I was and what I felt ‘then’. I could seem to feel with music when I could not feel with anything else.
A side note….I am not going to write a lot about the rituals I was made to be involved in. I will write about a few specific times as I believe they are relevant to my story; however, tons of gruesome stories are not productive and really will serve no one. If anyone feels the need to ask me specific questions for their own validation please fell free to e-mail me privately at email@example.com and soon I hope to have a snail mail address where people can write me on real paper if that is better for them.
By the time I was 13 my programming was set in place and I was revolving on a steady basis. I was made to go to church at least once a week. If I went more, it was rare, as I did not do well with the ‘youth group’ and was not encouraged to ‘mingle’. In truth, I thought I was a very bad kid and not good enough for the ‘church’ kids. My mom was involved in prayer meetings and such but since we moved to our new house she mostly went to prayer meetings at other homes and did not bring them to ours, which was a huge relief to me. I was still traumatized about all the times I was held down and the devil rebuked out of me from when my mom had the meetings at our old house. During church services I was often taken to a room somewhere in the church and made to do sexual things to some of the men who were part of the church, and it seemed a favorite time was during the praise and worship part of the service. But not all of the time as some of the song leaders and such liked to be serviced at a later more convenient time. Something really scary to me was when these big time ‘church men' would speak in tongues while I did sexual things to them. Talk about upsetting! I am still not sure about ‘tongues’ to this day as I have been in so many churches and heard so many people praying in those same ‘tongues’. I have even heard my mom pray in the same tongues these men prayed in. But I will leave that for another day. Why I even brought any of this up is that I want people to understand how messed up things were in the ‘church’. And this was not just that church, it was in a lot of other so-called outstanding churches as well. I experienced this over and over again. Most of the people in our church were ORU people, and a lot of them were people with a lot of money. I know some of them were at Roy Clark's ranch at times during the ‘parties’ and ‘satanic rituals’. The ‘satanic rituals’ were not always in the same place either. There were many places, homes and churches where these rituals were preformed. Since I was most likely drugged during these times my memories can often seem like a fog or a really bad ‘B’ movie. In the worst of times my memories are worse then the most horrifying nightmare.
Speaking of nightmares….I remember demons tormenting me sometimes at night. It was a horrible thing and the only way I could get them to leave was to cry out Jesus' name. However, during these times I was in a paralyzed state and could not speak or move so it was a struggle to get even a whisper out much less yell. But GOD is so good and He always made a way for me to cry out and He always made the tormenting demons leave. I learned quickly that not many really liked the real Jesus’ name being called out and there is a difference. The people who did those awful things in the church called out to the fake Jesus, as the real one was not in their hearts. But when confronted with the real one ‘they’ got scared. I saw that a lot. When I cried out to Jesus in anyway in front of them ‘they’ almost hissed and demanded I stop, or else ‘they’ would mock me, but usually ‘they’ would leave me alone. I just did not always think to cry out to Him. And a lot of my alters were scared to cry out at all.
When I think about my life as a whole it is always in a puzzle form, and the pieces are always coming together in different stages and times. I do not always get my memories in chronological order either. Another thing I have noticed is that the more I heal, the clearer a lot of things are. Not everything is clear but a lot of things are. Another thing I want to be understood is that my relationship with my Lord and Savior is a process and not always very clear to me. I had to process a lot of miss information about Him as well as everything else in my life and that is why I did not always think to even call out to Him for help.
It was a long time before I even understood that the Jesus ‘they’ served and the real one was not the same Jesus. Sound confusing? Well it is and it is meant to be, since Satan is the author of confusion and deceit and that is what he does best. I mean what better way of leading people away from God then to pretend to be God. These people really love their Satan fake Jesus so it is easy to understand how people can be fooled into thinking these are real ‘people of God’ with anointing etc. as they do have fire and love in ‘their’ eyes for ‘their’ god. When you start to get the scope of this delusion it can be very overwhelming. How else can ‘their’ praise and worship seem so real and charismatic and holy if ‘they’ did not mean it? ‘They’ do mean it. It is not a sham, as they are really praising and worshiping ‘their’ savior and lord. Unfortunately it is not the same God that most of the poor sheeple who come to ‘their’ services think it is and these poor deluded and used people are even paying for the privilege to worship the wrong god and help out the ‘other’ side. They allow these so called ‘anointed ones’ to lay hand on them and put spirits into them and prophesy false words to them and cheat them out of their hard earned money and wow, “they’ even do it in the name of Jesus. So no one ever questions which Jesus. People just assume it is the real one. It is a mad cycle, a perverted one and one that works. So when someone like say ‘me’ comes out and tells the truth about it, well you can bet I am not to well received as people do not like to be told they have been had.
Now more about memories….the things I do remember sometimes come in waves, some comes in flashes and some come in what seems like movies. A lot of memories come in feelings and just plain knowing if that makes sense. I mean I know I was taken too many different locations during my childhood and teen years for different things. Some places I can name and some I have a sense about. Some people I remember clearly and some I have a sense about being at certain places etc. Like when I write about Roy Clark’s ranch, I remember parties and rituals but maybe not at the same time. I remember certain people being there but not for the same reasons. Not everyone in the entertainment industry was or is a Satanist. A lot are victims and are used by the Satanists and a lot were just trying to get an edge so they could get fame and money. They probably ended up being Satanists however or at the very least used by ‘them’ also in the end.
One example is Leon Russell, my memories of him was that he was one being used. I never got the sense that he was really one of ‘them’. The few memories I have of him are that he was pretty drugged up and was a puppet of sorts. I never thought of him as a perp or a handler. He was handled. He made me feel sad every time I remember seeing him.
Most of the people on Hee Haw were being handled or were handlers. So with saying that I can say that the biggest part of the entertainment industry is an illusion and satanic. I saw too much of the way it worked to not believe that, but in saying that I have to say it is the same thing for most of the religious organizations and government as well. It is all a part of an interwoven web and it connects perfectly. This is a huge thing and not an easy thing to comprehend. My mind still gets overwhelmed at the scope of it all. Seeing how the religious ministers and leaders, government politicians and officials and entertainment people all worked together to form a huge kaleidoscope of illusion was and is an amazing work of mass delusion. It seems one thing always leads to another and they all lead to Satan. I can really understand how this End Time delusion can easily be carried out.
Unfortunately most people do not question things very much. They prefer to be lead and do not want to take the time to really understand what they believe and why. They just follow anyone who can tell them what they want to hear or just has a good tone or feeling about it. If it makes them feel good then that is good enough for them. I hear this a lot as well “they preach the word so I know they are OK”, man anyone can preach or teach out of the bible but that does not mean they are OK. Can anyone show me in the bible where it says “all who teach or preach this word is OK’? I am thinking that we are repeatedly warned in the bible to beware of false teachers and prophets etc. We are warned about how ‘they’ will come and use His name and so all kinds of things in His name but He knew them not.
Do I have all the answers and know all the truth about the bible? Goodness no, and I would not ever claim that I do and anyone who does is a liar. All I do know is who my Lord and Savior is and I do know He is the one who has saved me out from all the crud and pain of my life. He is the only thing that has ever proven to be 100% real to and for me. Because of Him, my Lord and Savior, my Creator, my Father I am still here and am able to write this story and lead people to Him. I lead people to Him because I know He is the only thing in my life that has worked and is truth and has loved me unconditionally in whatever state I have been in. He has brought me from the darkest of places to the light of His love.
So I guess I can say that with a lot of my memories came a lot of pieces to the puzzle of my life and a lot of hard truths as well, truths I am still putting together and pieces I am fitting together. My relationship with my Lord had changed a lot during this walk to wholeness and my understanding of why things are, have changed as well. I am starting to understand and see that our lives on this planet are not the whole sum of whom we are or who we are even going to be. It is a combination of choices we make here in this life, what we choose to do with what we are given in this life and a lot of forgiveness in this life that determines an eternity and where we spend it and what we will become in that eternity. Pretty heavy stuff to think about, I am so glad I have my Creator, my Heavenly Father who sent His Son, to walk beside me and hold my hand all the way. I am not alone.
When I was around 13, I remember a big tent revival being held at our church. This was before ‘they’ got the new sanctuary and all the upgrades to the church so they needed to do the revival in a tent to hold all the people who came. The evangelist seemed OK but I am pretty sure now that he was a homosexual and the fact that he wanted to do a revival in “that’ church pretty much proved which side he was on. Anyway a 16 year old boy whose parents went to church there took me from the service one night. I, Judy who had no idea she had ever had sex or been abused went with him in his car. He and his friend took me to my house and this boy proceeded to rape me. I think I kind of knew he was going to have sex with me but since I had no knowledge about sex (honestly I/Judy up to that time had no clue) I really did not understand very well what was going to happen. Anyway when he started trying to do his thing I freaked out and wanted nothing to do with the situation. All I remember about the incident is telling him no and started fighting. I think my sexual memories were bleeding into my memory and I was on overdrive freaking out. He hit me and held me down and I guess I could say I started dissociating from my body. The rape was so brutal that I think I did bleed, but then I am not sure as I remember a lot of blood everywhere at one point, so that is one reason why I think I was in a full blown flashback at the time as well. I know afterwards I was bruised and torn up pretty badly. He and the other boy dumped me in the parking lot of the church after the fact. My surface memory has always been that I lost my virginity that night violently and I was the worst kind of nasty bad girl on the planet. I lost any self worth I had that night, not that I had much, but none the less I never could put that, what I thought was my first experience out of my head. I did go to the preacher of the ‘church’ and tell him what happened to which he did nothing and pretty much made me feel like a piece of trash. Years later when I started getting my memories back I called that preacher and confronted him. All he could say to me was ‘Judy, you need to just put the past behind you’ figures doesn’t it?
There is so much more attached to this one memory but I am going to put some connections together. The boy and his family were serious Satanists. I have specific memories of him picking me up after that time and taking me to rituals one of which I had to drink his blood. He also took me several times to ‘service’ people in Tulsa. One such time I remember even before I, Judy even knew what was going on. He took me to a young man to sell me, not long after the ‘rape’. For some reason even though I was terrified of this boy I always went with him when he picked me up and did anything he told me to. He was not a typical teen boy. For one thing he looked to be in his mid twenties instead of 16 and he did not go to school. Maybe he was not 16, maybe I was lied to? Who knows? So back to the story… This one incident with this young man I was being sold to, saw me and freaked out. I remember him yelling at the guy and saying ‘she is just a baby!’, needless to say I did not get hurt by this young man, instead he showed me compassion and that is the only time I can remember that happening.
It is odd looking back how all the pieces fit but I was so dissociated that I could not figure things out then. All the times I remember being taken places and then going blank and all the times my memories seem to make no sense what so ever. It is amazing how the mind works to protect us. My mind was working overtime to protect the surface Judy and keep her safe from the horror’s her life really was. And as crazy as I knew my life was, I managed to retain a little bit of innocence in the middle of hell.
After the rape incident I changed a lot. But then I was so confused as to who I was maybe I did not change much at all. Things rocked on being nuts as always, I babysat for selected families, I was used abused and sold on a regular basis and I was taken to rituals and programming centers and poked and prodded with any number of things including a lot of electroshock's. I met officials and celebrities and ministers and had great disdain for them all.
The summer when I turned 14 my uncle moved in with us, my dad’s brother. He proceeded to befriend me and since I was such a needy young girl I took to him like duck to water. He had a motorcycle and we would spend hours just riding all over N.E. Oklahoma. We went to movies and did a lot of fun stuff together. Then one night he took me to a park. Things changed drastically. He raped me violently. It was so violent that to this day I can not remember a lot about it and I dissociated for several weeks after the fact. No memories at all nada. Then I remember coming to in an emergency room in great pain. I was told later I had a tubule pregnancy. Who knows the truth about that one? Anyway sometime during that summer I had been dating a boy and he came to the hospital to see me. I was so confused about everything. I was confused about him, about what had happened to me, about where I was for several weeks. I felt so crazy but I could not trust anyone enough to tell them. The boy I was dating left the state right after that and I remember feeling very abandoned.
I also remember my brother coming to the hospital and bringing me the new ‘Chicago’ album and thinking how good that made me feel that he did something so nice for me. To this day when I hear Chicago play ‘Saturday in the Park’ I think about my brother and that album and how that was the only good thing I remember in that whole year. Oddly enough I have no memories of anyone else coming to the hospital, although I know my parents must have been there.
I started the 8th grade soon after that and another episode of my life started yet again. This next part is a very painful one as it is about a boy from the 'inside' and how we connected. He is dead now, but I think our/his story needs to be told.
How can I tell the story about Eddie and me? We were so young and such a couple of broken children. I believe that in all the things that have happened to me in my life nothing has hurt me more or left as big a scar as the time in my life with Eddie.
Let me start this with trying to give a picture about who Eddie was. When we got together as two against the world we were both just 14 years old. He had the bluest eyes I have ever seen, so clear and so honest and so lovingly gentle. I could look into the depth of his eyes and really believe that we were going to escape the nightmare of our lives.
He had wavy, very light brown hair just too his shoulders and it was so soft and fine it was almost like hair on a baby’s head. The skin on his face was still soft not yet touched by the whiskers of a man, but when he spoke he had a soft gentle voice just starting to get that deepness that let you know he was growing into a man quickly. He was not very tall maybe 5’8”or 9 and he still had a touch of the baby chubbiness left over from preadolescence youth. I remember his hands… which is weird as I never remembered anything about anyone specific in my life much less their hands; however he had soft gentle hands just like the rest of him, just like his nature. Eddie had a sweet nature about him yet there was a fierce anger that boiled under the surface if anyone cared to look hard enough. He was a very passionate boy, and most of that passion was aimed toward me along with a loyalty as fierce as the anger that lay underneath the surface.
When we got together it was like two side of the same coin and the feelings that were unleashed between us could be likened to a hurricane. I think things were so intense mostly because of all the things we had been through and the need each of us had to just connect with someone. And the fact that we were in the throe’s of adolescence.
Eddie’s family was a mixture of messed up. I think his parents had been so used and abused by unceasing shock treatments that not a lot of reality was left between them. I do not know the full story about his parents but they had serious ‘issues’ and because of that their four children had some serious ‘issues’ as well.
Eddy was a “Monarch’ kid. We were ‘Monarch’ kids, and why were allowed to bond is a mystery to me still. Maybe we were some experiment or something. Because my memories are so broken up and disconnected it is hard to make a lot of sense out of everything that went on so long ago, however I am going to try.
When Eddie and I got together we were huge misfits at out Jr. High school. Kids made a lot of jokes about us and at us; however we were pretty oblivious to them as we didn’t need their acceptance. Who cared? We had found each other in the middle of a storm and that was all we cared about. The normal things about us were little but there were a few normal kid things about us. We both loved ‘B’ movies and went to trashy theater on a regular basis at an ‘undesirable’ part of town, to catch the latest bad flicks. Eddie had a motorcycle and we rode all over the place one it. As kids are we were fearless on our cruises and did not pay much attention to caution. Only the Good Lord kept us from getting killed riding that thing in city traffic, I am sure of it. We did wear helmets to our credit. We went on a lot of picnics in hidden spots, we walked a lot and since I was an insatiable reader I often talked about my latest weird book of the day. Eddie would listen in rapt attention at my even then weird theories and ideas about the world. I remember one time taking him to the movie ‘Chariots of the God’s’ and while he slept through it I watched in fascination listening to VanDanikin’s (probably spelled wrong sorry) amazing ideas about ancient astronauts. He would patiently go with me to the huge library in Tulsa and wait as I scoured the books looking for answers to all the questions that boiled inside of me about every thing imaginable. I went on a Harry Houdini phase for a while and he even listened while I read pages about Houdini’s life out loud. Eddie was mostly interested in anything electronic and how it worked and he loved math. Since I was a dismal math failure I admired his math skills. And he really loved anything with wheels. Who knows if he would have ended up being good in mechanics, he never got the chance to find out. But most of all Eddie loved me. He was the first person I had ever known who loved me unconditionally. He would spend his lawn mowing and paper route money on small tokens of his affection for this silly red headed moody girl. He would even pick wild flowers for me. Eddie was a romantic. And I remember his laugh….and his smile and the way he looked at me, like I was the most beautiful amazing thing he had ever seen. Eddie was just a young boy and I was just a young girl but we loved each other fiercely and nothing would ever change that.
Now the flip side of Judy and Eddie…..
I remember being strapped down in a chair across from Eddie, mirrors all around and a sickly sweet burnt smell in the air. No! Zap! A shock coursed through my body and I felt it jerk even with the heavy straps holding me down. I saw the look of horror and pain reflected in his eyes as Zap! He was hit with a jolt as well. Back and forth this went on until we had no sense of anything even each other.
I remember Eddie being sexually abused in front of me and the shame I saw in his eyes. I was sexually abused in front of him as well and I saw rage in his eyes then. Eddie and I were made to do things no person should ever be made to do but when we rebelled one of us paid big time, and The Dark Man was always pleased. Many others seemed pleased as well. A lot of this stuff took place at ORU, some at the ranch and a lot of other places. We were both sold, we were both tortured and we were both broken and split in many pieces on the inside of our minds. I can not even begin to tell of all that we went through together.
Amazingly when we were just being Judy and Eddie we managed to put all the pain in another place and just be us. We would often cry in each others arms and not remember why we were crying… we just somehow knew it did not matter, all that mattered was that we could hold each other and feel complete, even for just a little while.
One night Eddie and I rode out to the country and found a quiet spot. Eddie was very serious that night but excited as well. When we got settled by a pond he pulled out a box and handed it to me. In it was a silver ID bracelet. On one side it said ‘Judy & Eddie’ on the other side it said ‘Forever’. We made vows before God that night and promised to always be together and always love each other. We were married in our hearts that night; I truly still believe that to this day. And as I write this, even today, the tears still fall, for that young girl and boy so long ago and how they managed to love so deeply in a world they were thrown into that was so cruel and sick and lacking in any kind of love at all.
How long Eddie and I might have known each other I do not know. Were we in rituals as children? I have no idea. I do know that we were in rituals together as teenagers. What I do know is we were together until just before my 16th birthday. Then something big happened and things changed. I got pregnant.
My surface memory is of panic, panic that my baby would be taken away. I did not know by whom but I suspected my parents. Now remember my surface memories did not know about any abuse. All I knew was that I was going to have a baby and this child was in danger. I told no one. I even pretended to still be having my monthly’s so my mom would not suspect. I did not tell Eddie either.
Now to explain what was really going on. I remember being in a place where our family Doctor was and the Dark Man as well. I was told that if I did not break up with Eddie my baby would die and so would Eddie. Now things get really confusing to me here but I remember a ritual where a baby was killed and I was told that if I did not do as I was told my baby was next. There is a lot more to this but suffice to say I think this is enough for now.
Surface Judy was getting terrified and so not knowing what to do she asked Eddie if he would run away with her, never telling him about the baby. So we planned a getaway and set a time, but it got botched and we were found out. Both of us were punished severely. I remember my dad being there while we were punished/tortured and my mom later telling me how God had protected me by not letting me run away. I was a very broken girl at that point and so dissociated I could not function on a very high level. The revolving door was going very fast and mirrors were blocking any thoughts of reality. I knew I was pregnant but I was quickly losing any sense of reality and even the baby did not seem quite real. I lost a lot of time during this part of my story and I still do not know what really happened, but I do know I must have broken up with Eddie as I have a fractured memory of burning his letters, and carefully wrapping the ID bracelet up and putting it in the trash all the while crying and wishing I were dead. This was in the fall of the year close to Halloween I think.
My next memory is of walking in the door after school one day and my mom taking me to the ‘Doctor’ my dad was there I think, and I get the sense The Dark Man was somewhere near. I know that they were all discussing my fate or whatever it was and it was as if I did not exist at all. I could not talk; I could not ask questions I could not breathe. That night I was taken out of state to supposedly have an abortion. Since abortions were still illegal everything was done under the table. This is what I remember on the surface. I was told I was about 12 weeks pregnant, which makes no sense at all as I was showing and I could feel the baby moving. I was told I was taken to Wichita Kansas by my mom. I remember being taken to a hospital, my mom gave a man cash and after that I do not remember much except being on a gurney waiting to be taken to a surgical room. I remember placing my hand on my swollen stomach and telling my baby I was so sorry I could not save it. I asked God to forgive me for failing. I was so broken and I wanted to die with my baby. My next memory is waking up in a hospital room throwing up and crying hysterically. I was calling out for my baby and I remember the nurse coming in and telling my mom to quiet me.
Then in my grief I had the most amazing vision. I think it was Jesus but I could not see his face only a sense of Him and He was holding a small baby in his hands. He told me that this was my little girl and he called her the most beautiful name I have ever heard. To this day I have never heard this name; however I do not want to write it out. I want to keep that to myself. Anyway He said, He would keep her safe and when my time on earth was over I would be with her again. And it dawned on me…. She would never know the pain I had endured. She was free.
But in the days after, my heart was so broken. I grieved for that baby girl.
Now what happened that the surface Judy did not remember during that time? I was taken to a ritual, a baby was put on an alter; I was forced to kill that baby. I was told she was mine and that if I did not obey from now on every child I bore would be sacrificed to Satan. There I said it….. I was forced to plunge a knife into an innocent baby and take its life. How can anyone ever get over the horror of that? Was she mine? Was it a false memory? Was the hospital a false memory? What was the real deal? I may never know this side of life, but what I do know is this. My baby girl went to be with the only one who could save her and keep her safe, my Jesus. And I believe I will be with her again someday.
Was she Eddie’s baby? I would like to think so, in that then I would know she was conceived in love not in the pain of rape and prostitution. But however she was conceived I love her and she has never been out of my heart.
In the process of writing this story about Eddie and me I have shed a lot of tears. But the thing that amazes me is that I have not broken all to pieces. I can see how God has worked through this writing to help in my own healing as well as shown me how far I have come in the healing process. In the past if I had faced something as hard as the memories I have dealt with like I have the last few days I would have probably cut myself, drugged myself, or dissociated myself from life in general. I did none of those things. I cried yes, and I hurt however; even in all of that I survived and I functioned and I feel stronger on this side of the memories. I am becoming a whole Judy and I Praise my God as I know He has been standing right beside me all the way.
Now for the rest of Judy and Eddie….
I do not have a lot of memories after I lost my baby about Eddie but I think it is important to write about what few I have as fragmented as they are.
I remember after losing my baby Eddie and I sitting on my front porch. He was upset and asked me why I had not come to him and why I killed our child. I am not sure if he meant by abortion or sacrifice but in any case in my mind they both are the same thing. I do not know what I said, maybe nothing. Anyway I remember that he hit me very hard and I remember thinking that if he killed me I deserved no less. That is all I remember about that.
After I broke up with Eddie I was transferred to another high school. We were not allowed to be in school together anymore. I have a very vivid memory of walking down the stairs at school and seeing him standing at the bottom. I heard someone behind me say.” What the hell is he doing here?” I walked down the stairs and when I reached him he reached out and squeezed my shoulder. That is all I remember as I went blank.
My next memory is Eddie, his mom and sister, my mom and me being at our church with the Evangelist that did the tent revival before, preaching. The church now had a big new sanctuary so no tent anymore. There was something going on during the service that bothered me a lot but I do not know what it was, I looked over at Eddie and he looked confused and his little sister was upset. End of memory.
The next memory is of Eddie and I standing in my bedroom looking at each other while Elton John’s album Goodbye Yellow brick Road, played Funeral for a friend/ love lies bleeding on my stereo. End of memory.
Next memory is after I was married and my daughter Sunny was born. Rick my husband was at boot camp. I remember opening my apt. door and Eddie was standing there. Then I remember picking up my baby and her bag and we went with him somewhere. I do not know where. Then I have a memory of him and I and my baby sitting in his car talking and seeing a man outside watching us and I felt scared and upset. Then another memory of him picking me up at my apt. and then us and my baby sitting in his attic where we used to go when we were together… my baby was on a pallet playing and we were talking and listening to music. End of memory.
My last memory during that time was him coming to my apt and asking me to go pick out boots. I left Sunny with a sitter and left with him. I have no memory of where we went or how long but I remember him bringing me home and I got my baby and put her to bed. End of memory.
The very last memory I have of Eddie was probably over a year later. I was barely 19. Eddie was about 6 or 7 months younger then me. Anyway my baby boy Josh was just a few months old and Rick and I were going somewhere. I was sitting up front in the car holding the baby and Sunny was in her car seat in the back. We stopped at a red light and when I looked over at the corner I saw Eddie standing there looking at me. He reached his hand out toward me and I remember thinking ‘he needs me’ but I could not go as I had my babies. I was distressed for several weeks about seeing him so I got one of my friends to call his house and make sure he was OK. My friend was told he had died a few weeks before of an overdose. Probably around the time I last saw him. I freaked out. I then called all the funeral homes until I found out where he was buried. I had to see his grave to believe he was really gone. My friend took me to his grave and while she held onto my babies I fell apart at his grave. He was really gone. Eddie was still just 18 a few months shy of his 19th birthday.
My mom called me that day and I was crying. She asked me what was wrong. I told her that Eddie had died. All she could say is “I rebuke that spirit of grief’ and ‘Judy you have to forget about it’ I remember almost hating her then. How could she be so cruel? She had no compassion in her voice.
I know that Eddie and I were set up by “them’. But I also know that ‘They’ could not have total control over our hearts. So no matter what “they’ planned for us kids in our programming I will never regret loving a young boy so long ago.
I still dream about him now and then. I see him standing there watching me with his loving eyes and I remember how much I was loved by a boy named Eddie. And he is not completely gone, because he still has a place in my heart.
As a postscript to this..
It has taken me a life time to learn to forgive myself for the death and murder of my baby girl. But I now know the truth behind her death and I also know her blood is not on me, it is on ‘Them’ as well as the blood of countless babies, children and people. And I have to say, I do not ask GOD to have mercy on their souls. They will get what ‘They’ deserve.
Justice is Mine saith the Lord! Praise GOD, it is in His hands!
I have been wondering and praying about where to go from here with my story. I left out a lot of things that happened during my teen years however unless I get some serious inspiration I am not going to backtrack right now. I may later if it seems necessary but as of right now I think I need to just continue on.
After the death of my baby I lost a lot of time as even now I do not have a lot of the memories coming forward. I know I was placed on the street more often to pass out ‘Christian’ tracts and lure more unsuspecting teens to’ Christian’ front coffee houses and such. A lot of those kids were taken for rituals, some recruited for witch craft and other side programs. I consider Wicca a side program of Satanism. Others were just plain abused. Some I am sure were used as human sacrifice, especially the run a ways or throw away kids nobody cared about. All of this is a sad truth but it is the truth none the less.
If it seems I am always picking on the ‘Christian’ religion I guess I am. The reason is that is where I truthfully saw the most corruption, deception and abuse of people. I still say what better cover for ‘the enemy’ then using the main stream ‘Christian’ religion? No one would believe it, no one would question it and most ‘Christian’s’ are in denial and brain dead. Oh my, bet I will get in trouble for saying that one.
So anyway, to continue…. How did I feel about all of this? Well I didn’t feel. I was so controlled and so brain dead myself from being fragmented and abused half the time I couldn't think to feel. I do have memories of hiding in ally’s crouched beside trash dumpsters crying out to GOD for help. I do have memories of missing ‘appointments’ and getting picked up and taken to be punished. And if I am truthful I have to say here that I was very angry at GOD during this time. I think He understood though. I think I always knew He was safe to be angry at. He wasn’t going to zap me like ‘they’ did.
I know I became a serious pot head and spent a lot of time in the ‘smoke hole’ at school lighting up between classes. I think I remember more about that then going to class, probably because I was so stoned. Sometime during my sophomore year I met my first husband Rick. He was the total opposite of anyone I had dated or remotely though attractive. He was a full blooded Indian. He was a nice kid, kind of quiet. Were we put together by ‘them’ like Eddie and me? To this day I really do not know. Maybe later I will get that answer but not as of yet. Rick came from a pretty messed up family and his dad was gone a lot and worked over seas so who knows. At this point I am beginning to believe almost everyone has something messed up somewhere in their families as that is the human condition.
Anyway when my dad saw us together he was furious and proceeded to beat me. To my mom’s credit she pulled him off of me and made him stop. My dad thought he was a black guy and since he was major prejudiced that did not set to well. My mom calmed him down by telling him that Rick was Indian like my dad and that as I was so while and fair skinned anyone with a tan looked black next to me. So I was allowed to date Rick. But I still had another life. I was still sold to men, I was still taken to rituals and programming sites, I was still taken to ranches and mansions to service ‘big name’ people. However, I have no memories of Rick ever being a part of any of this stuff unlike Eddie.
I have to add here that for a very long time I thought I was not used anymore after my baby died, it is just the last few years I have gotten enough memories to know I was and at this point on I am sure a lot of other memories are going to surface about the years when my kids were small. So this could be a rough go for me. But then when I started this blog I knew it would get rough, I also know it is as much part of my healing as a validation and hopefully a healing for other survivors out there as well. So I am going to go on as far as I am allowed by my Lord.
It is weird thinking about it all, as I always thought I was just an average teenager having a boyfriend and doing teen stuff and then all the time, having a whole other life as well. I mean I did know I always lost time but since I had been doing that my whole life what was odd about that? I was used to people coming up to me and saying I was somewhere else and doing other things I knew nothing about and like I said before I really thought I had a double out there somewhere.
I remember one day as I was sitting on the grass on a corner nearby our house sketching. A man came up to me and asked me if I was a hooker. I mean it really freaked me out. I was sure not dressed like one. I was wearing a while peasant shirt and white jeans and with my long hair probably looked a bit hippish. I was so startled that I just got up and left. I remember thinking to myself ‘man I look like a hooker even in white, I must be trashy’ now isn’t that a wonderful thing to be thinking about ones self as a teen? I was trying to sketch a big tree in a lot next to the corner and to this day I have great difficulty drawing or painting trees. But then none of my art is any kind of realism anyway. I ended up servicing that guy later by the way…. He was a manager at a nearby store. Go figure? Such was my life.
How do I feel about looking back and knowing I was sold? Well not great. But somehow I know that all the things done to be are not who I am. Does that make sense? I mean in all of the things that make up this thing called my life, what stands out the most to me is, I survived, I was not defeated, and my faith in my Father God is stronger then ever. Even when shaking my fist at my Creator and even when yelling and crying I know that I was saved through my life and delivered out of it because of Him. Not because HE was not there or did not care or was a benign figure somewhere out there in the cosmos. I know deep in the core of my being that He is the reason I did not turn out to be like ‘them’ and the reason I did not join ‘them’ and the reason I am alive to tell my story even now. He is the reason I have ever had any hope, any fight, any belief in surviving this thing called life. This is the only real truth I have in my heart that I am 100% sure of. Jesus Christ, the real Jesus Christ is my Savior and He is why I am alive and not one of ‘them’. I pray I am not saying this badly because I always feel so inadequate in talking about my faith. I feel as if I never say things clear enough. But I know what is in my heart and I pray that is what comes though when I write about my faith in my Savior.
Sometimes it can get really hard to write about ones self for any length of time. I mean I am a person who really likes their anonymity. I am a basic loaner and so to have my life hung out like some undergarments can get pretty rough to say the least and I really get tired of thinking about me. That is why I am ever so grateful when I get e-mails. It does not bother me one bit to have it be about someone else. Not that I want anyone to have had this stuff done to them, but I really do not mind listening. I just needed to say that for the ones out there who think they are taking up my time by writing me. You are not taking up my time. You are blessing me with your trust. If you need someone to listen and believe what you have to say, that is time well spent for me. That is why I am doing this blog. This is for all of you who need a voice, validation, and a friend. You validate me as well. With saying all of that I am contemplating naming a few more names, for one reason to 'out' some of these people and for another to validate some of your memories out there. So with saying that I am going to be praying about this and we will just see where it takes me. The only reason I have hesitated thus far on some names is I do not want to make this story about ‘them’ more then about healing.
So continuing on…..
I only remember bits and pieces of the time Rick and I had as teens. We met at 16 and by the late fall of that year I was pregnant again. However; I was determined this time to not only have my baby, but keep this one safe. Not an easy thing to do in my case. Like before I did not tell anyone I was pregnant right away but I got very sick very soon, so hiding this pregnancy was not a long lived thing. I told my best friend and Rick and with my best friend in tow I was working up courage to tell my mom after school. But when I got home that day from school my mom and dad were already waiting to confront me. It was not a pretty scene. My dad called me everything in the book and then some and my mom did not say much of anything. My dad roared for me to get an abortion and as they started planning to take me to the doctors I put my foot down. I do not remember how it all went down that afternoon but I do remember that I told them basically no, but hell no! I was keeping my baby! Rick was called over that night and given the lowdown and afterward as we stood outside with my friend, I remember Rick shaking. He said he wanted to marry me. I didn’t know if that was what I wanted, however all I did know was that I was determined to fight tigers for this baby and no one was going to stop me.
How I managed to not be triggered to a compliant alter I believe was an act of GOD at that point, and also the will of a girl who had already been hurt and abused beyond almost all endurance. All I knew deep down inside of me was that no one was ever going to take any of my children away again.
Like I said before I was very sick during this pregnancy. I also had to go to a school for pregnant girls, as back then girls who got in trouble were not encouraged to go to regular school. That was fine with me, I had no desire to be in public school and besides I was so sick that it would have been hard to be in a regular school. I think I broke all records for puking. Rick and I were not doing so well either. I do not think either one of us was very keen on marriage, and deep inside I could not be sure if this baby was even his. He was not so sure either. Not a very wonderful thing to admit, even now.
We ended up breaking up for several weeks but in the end someone must have talked us into marriage as the minister of our church…. ‘The church’…. Yes the same one connected to O.R.U. ended up marrying us. I was 17 by that time. We continued to live with my parents until Rick graduated that year and then we moved into our own apartment a few days after our baby girl was born.
I can honestly say I do not have any memories of abuse, rituals, or anything during my pregnancy with my daughter. I have prayed about it a lot and nothing comes up. I do know it was a hard time, and I had a very hard time finding a doctor. Our family doctor who was connected to ‘them’ tried to get me to sign my baby over to others, he tried to get me to abort, but in the end I quit going to him and went to the county clinic for prenatal care. My mom took me to all my appointments and she even took care of me when I was so sick I could not even hold my head up from puking. I do remember my mom trying to be there for me as much as she could. She was not happy about the situation but she did not try to get me to give my baby away or anything else.
My dad vanished about a week before my baby was born. It was kind of a weird thing. He came home one evening, and acted real happy, he even joked about my big belly and teased me about being almost ripe. I am telling you it was weird. Anyway he left and I did not see him again until my baby was about seven months old. My mom and he got a divorce then as well. I kept wondering why they waited until I was out of the house.
Strange stuff kept happening to my mom such as break-ins and someone shot at her etc. Also Rick was gone to boot camp during that time and I had people try and break into my apartment several times as well. I was getting a lot of strange phone calls and to tell you the truth I lost time during this part of my life.
But I am getting a bit a head of myself.
Rick and I started off marriage in a not very healthy mode. He liked to drink and mixing alcohol and Indian blood is not a good thing. He would get violent and I was usually at the end of his violence. He came home a few months into our marriage and informed me he had enlisted and was leaving for boot camp in so many days. I have to admit I was basically terrified to be living alone with my baby. He would be gone five months. Even though I had no conscious memories of any of my abuse I think I still had a sense of danger. Like one night I was up not sleeping well and Tom Snyder was on the TV, he was doing a thing with some robed Satanist’s and when I saw them coming out to his stage I freaked out. I ended up in a fetal position in the corner wondering what was wrong with me. I was terrified. I remember getting my bible and finding psalms 91 and writing it out on cards and taping it up all over my apartment.
I think I am going to back track a bit. In truth I am just not ready to delve into that part of my life. So since I can, I shall procrastinate, hope no one minds too much.
I have been thinking about a lot of stuff as of late, not just the pain in my life. I have thought a lot about who I am and why I am. I mean I have said that the abuse was and is not the whole of who I am and that is true however; in saying that I have to also admit that it did form the person I became and am still becoming. Wow, what a mouthful that is.
I think about how some of us learn from the pain in our lives, some grow from it and some become much stronger for it. Others on the other hand just collapse under the weight or maybe become the pain givers. Some even embrace the pain and ask for more. Some get angry and unforgiving and lash out the rest of their lives and continually keep hurting others in retaliation. No one ever really deals with it the same as most of us are a combination of all of the above.
Maybe if I am really honest I would have to say I am a combination. I mean there were times in my life when I did lash out in anger and hurt others. Sometimes I was very unforgiving and was the abuser. There were times I collapsed under the weight. Sometimes I grew, sometimes I allowed myself to learn and grow and I have to say that now on this end of my healing, I have gotten a lot stronger for it.
Am I the philosopher or what? : )
Now more memories….
One night when I was I guess about 14; I was taken to a party to be one of the ‘favors’. I remember being given a drink (probably several) and then I just did not care what happened. I am trying to think who was at this party and what it was for. Let’s see, I remember a swimming pool and I believe it was at some apartments, maybe the single’s apartments on the next block from our house? Only single people could live in those apartments and they were pretty nice, with a club house and a nightclub. I was sent there a lot for other jobs and to deliver papers and packages etc. This particular night I was flying pretty high on some mixed drink and maybe a little pot so everything seemed in a haze of a daze. A large older man came up to me and handed me a key. Why did he hand me the key? He spun me around three times and I remember seeing the swimming pool go by every time I was turned. I did not want to go into the water. I was afraid of water over my head. Go with him and do what he asks I was told. Who did I go with? A car was in the parking lot and I got in. It was the new ‘Dark Man’. I wanted to look over at him but I saw only the dashboard. I was going to the house on top of ‘Shadow Mountain’. We went through an electronic gate. The next memory is being lead down some stairs to a basement of sorts. When first coming into the room downstairs it looked like a normal den, but then it changed somehow. It became a room lined with dark heavy drapes and I remember a shiny granite like slab in the middle.
By the way I have a memory of being at a party, maybe that party holding a key in my hand and sticking it in several of the men who were there stomachs and telling them I was going to turn them on. I do not remember their faces only their stomachs. I remember feeling like a robot.
It is weird but about 18 years ago when I started remembering any of my abuse at all that one of my first paintings was of the road up the Shadow Mountain hill. I went back to Tulsa several years ago and drove up that hill, it still looked pretty much the same and that house with the Iron Gate was still there as well and just seeing that gate made me feel real strange. I do not know who owns that place nor do I remember who owned it then. I have no memory of who was there except one of my handlers ‘The Dark Man’. I am still hesitant to give his name out but I am thinking that maybe I should as I could really use some validation on this one. The key thing is real connected to him and even now I have an odd key collection that I just recently connected to him and his ministry.
His name is Mike Murdock. He has a big ministry in Texas.
One of my memories of Mike was a time I was taken to a bar in Tulsa I was 16 and that particular night I was hitch hiking, I know now I was avoiding something I was suppose to do and the guy who picked me up was working for ‘them’. Anyway he delivered a package to someone at that bar and left me sitting at the bar alone. He ordered me a drink. I remember looking into the mirror over the bar and I looked very young even to me and I was not dressed right for that place. I was in jeans and blouse, a navy pea coat and moccasins, everyone else was dressed up. I looked like a fish out of water. As I sat stirring my drink I felt someone looking at me and as I looked to my right I saw Mike’ the Dark Man’ sitting there in a three piece suit not looking to happy at me. He had some sexy woman kind of hanging off of him. She was wearing a slinky sexy cocktail dress and looked expensive. I was frozen in fear and could not unlock my eyes from his. Then the guy who brought me there grabbed me by the arm and took me out of the bar. My next memory is of the guy telling me in his car that he was taking me back to where he got me. He said he was supposed to take me somewhere else but he knew it would be bad for me and he just could not do it. When he stopped the car he was upset and he then rolled up his sleeve and showed me track marks all up his arm. They were going to do this to you tonight and he said go home little girl. I remember getting out of the car and I guess I went home. That is one memory I have always had and did not understand it until many years later. The man at the bar haunted me for years as well until I not so long ago connected him to who ‘The Dark Man’ was.
As a side note…I also baby sat a lot for T.L. Osborn’s nieces and nephews during my teen years. I know he was involved a lot in this stuff as I have sketchy memories of him at the ranch and in rituals. He used to have a museum in Tulsa that had a lot of things he collected in other countries on his ‘Mission’ trips. He even had a collection of shrunken heads… now how wonderful is that? He is connected to TBN, Oral Roberts etc. so you do the math.
It is all a big network and the more I remember the more I understand how politics, religion and the entertainment industries are all connected.
I have been listening a lot as of late to many voices out there who are concerned about the shape of things to come. Some are almost hysterical in fear, while some are in so much denial that they really believe some man can fix all the problems of this lost country and maybe even the world.
There are others who are kind of in between and holding onto the ideal that if we all work together and fight the ‘system’ we can overcome and take this country back.
Then there are others who just want war at all costs and do not care a flip about humanity nor have any humanity in them.
While I was growing up I rarely saw much humanity that cared. Most of all the people I was exposed to were so involved with their worship and religion be it Satanism or Christianity that really caring about an individual be it an abused and hurting child, or adult was far beyond their capacity.
I often feel as if I am being overly judgmental when I write or say such things but I can not help but believe that all religions are so narrow minded in their beliefs and so consumed with being right and so obsessed with control that everything they might want to stand for is lost in the hoopla and pageant.
I think that is why I have really have not had a hard time in believing that Jesus Christ is the way, truth and the life.
He never was into tradition, he scoffed at the religious leaders, and even though he taught love and forgiveness he was not tolerant of the evil, hypocrisy and greed in the people. He was not about money, control, or making people feel good and always telling them what they wanted to hear. He told the truth no matter who he made mad and did not compromise that truth. He knew we were a weak bunch and were always falling short of what we should or could be and was quick to forgive and pick a fallen lamb up brush them off and tell them to keep on going and sin no more, all the while knowing we would fall again no matter how hard we tried.. However; he had no patience for anyone who thought they were superior or who took advantage of others who blatantly sinned, had no intention of changing and liked hurting others for what ever reason they chose.
I know that the idea of sin is not a popular thing with most people and that is why a lot of people have rejected Jesus and who He is. I think what most people do not understand about sin is not so much what sin is but what it does to us and to the other people around us.
GOD, the Creator, the Father loves us. He also gave us a free will to make choices in our lives. He did give us some rules however not so much to control us but to protect us. He is not some being sitting on a thrown somewhere with a big stick ready to zap us when we break these rules. He gave each of us a conscious to know right from wrong and anytime we cross that line our spirits get a tug. You do not even have to believe in Him to feel that tug; it was created in us, period. I think that we can sear over that tug and get to where we do not feel it anymore by constantly ignoring it and doing the bad thing or wrong thing. I also think some out there might not have the tug anymore because they chose to give it up to do evil.
There are consequences to breaking the rules, sinning or whatever you want to call it. Like when you steal and get caught you might go to jail, when you murder someone you might get the death penalty, when you commit adultery you might lose your family, when you lie you might get caught in that lie and then you have to deal with the results of that lie. These are just examples and probably poor ones at best, because when I think of sin and sinning I think of the over all results and what it might cost somewhere down the road. It is the sin that does not get seen but stays hidden that I think does the most damage.
In my life I think it is the hidden sin that had always done the most damage and that is why I feel so compelled to try and bring some of it out to the light to be exposed. I do not have the authority to judge but I do believe I have the right to expose what I know and what I have seen. Can I judge a persons heart? Well, no since I can not see into anyone’s heart. But I do think that a lot of what people have done in the dark tell a lot about what is lurking in their hearts. I also think people need to be warned so they will not put all of their trust and faith in what these people say and do.
Jesus said that there would be a lot of people using His name to do miracles, cast out demons and such and He said he will not know them.
When I see a satanic bunch like the Freemasons holding positions in churches and doing community work and telling everyone how good they are and how they love Jesus I cringe inside. I know what they do in the dark and I have seen the secrets they hold and try to keep from the public view.
The Benny Hinn’s. Oral Robert’s, Kenneth Copland’s out there are a lot more then anyone would like to believe.
Oprah Winfrey can do all the good charitable work in the world but that does not make her good and not a part of ‘them’. “They’ all do some good as that is part of the lie. The lie is to look like light to cover up all the dark. If you look like light, you make people feel good about themselves and tell them they do not need that nudge inside to convict them of right and wrong that they are fine just the way they are and there are no consequences for their actions, then you are accepted.
Jesus is the light but He is not accepted. He is not popular, not the real Jesus Christ, the Son of the Living GOD, He makes people mad, He makes them uncomfortable and He is the only one who cared enough to die for our sins because He knew that no matter how hard we tried we would always blow it. He warned us of the consequences of our sins however he paid the price for them so we could go through Him for forgiveness and not be separated from our Creator for eternity because of our sins. He gave us a way out. He came to save the world, not condemn it. But He did not come to condone it, a big difference.
I figure that the Jesus I chose to follow is the real one because He is the only one who seems to be the least accepted by man, the most hated by Satan and the only consistent truth I have ever found.
I guess I should be quoting a lot of scriptures to back all of this up, but I am thinking that if anyone out there really wants the true Jesus in their heart and really wants to know the truth, that is for them to search out. Anyone can quote scripture… I have seen a lot of fakes quote it more then not. I am not out to prove the scripture or Jesus or anything else. I am only here to point the way. It is up to you as an individual to seek Him out, to ask Him for the truth and discernment and I promise He will come to you if you have a sincere heart and put His truth in your heart.
Today I want my readers to watch something for me.
A reader of this blog sent me this link yesterday and it is a very good one.
Please take the time to go to this site and download the video of this amazing young man.
He has put the Word of Faith Movement in a context that says it all very clearly.
It is about 35 min. long.... however with my slow internet connection it took me all morning to download, but it was very much worth the time. It will be worth yours as well.
Thank you all,
I sometimes wake up in the early hours of the morning with memories ringing in my head. I toss and turn trying to make them go away so I can go back to sleep only to find them becoming more clear and vivid.
I think about kids who did not make it to adulthood or even adolescence. I remember adults who were used and abused almost as much as the children were. I remember how I felt, and how I was so determined not to be like the ones who hurt and destroyed so many lives. Some of the most vivid and continuing memories I have are how much I ran away and how much I fought. I do very much consider myself a Monarch failure in that I really do not think I have ever completely been nor done anything to ‘their’ specs or satisfaction. I believe my heavenly Father gave me the desire to fight and the will to not give up. I may have given in at times but I never gave up. In the darkest nights of my soul I gave in to things I should not have but in the end I kept right on fighting and pushing on.
Fighting, pushing, fighting and pushing on some more, that is the story of my life. I remember so many times I was hurt and abused because I would not quit fighting and pushing on.
I think deep inside I am a serious optimist in that I always had a firm belief that nothing would last forever and like ol Scarlet in ‘Gone With the Wind’, I truly believed that there was always tomorrow, there would always be another day. And in that belief I knew I had another chance to beat this thing called life and come out on the better side. But man oh man; it sure has not been easy.
When I was about 13 or so I have a memory of hiding. I was hiding from ‘them’. Sometimes when I knew ‘they’ were coming to get me for a ritual, or programming or whatever ‘they’ decided, I would hide. I would hit the streets and go to some places I had found where no one could get at me. Now I knew I would be caught in the end however that did not matter to me. What mattered was the fact that I let ‘them’ know that I was not cooperating and was not a willing precipitant in ‘their’ plans. It was worth it to me to be tortured and abused even more if only to be defiant. It was my way of saying NO! The only times it was really hard for me was when they hurt others because if what I did or did not do. However, I soon figured out that ‘They’ would have found an excuse to hurt others in spite of what I did or did not do, so at least by my being non compliant and defiant I felt as if I was fighting back at least in a small way for some of the others.
Anyway the memory of when I was about 13 was about after I got caught and the ensuing punishment.
I remember being stripped naked and tied to a tree out somewhere in some woods. It was pretty cold. There was a blindfold tied over my eyes and I remember being stuck all over with something sharp like needles, then I remember my head being tipped to one side and another and something poured into my ears. The pain was so intense I thought for sure I would go insane. Every time I started to pass out I was slapped hard on the face.
I wonder if ‘they’ somehow had a lot of information on how to do horrible torture with out doing permanent damage. I mean I know a lot of times things were done to me that should have made me deaf, mute, blind or crippled even keep me from having children etc. but in spite of the pain and blood and all the rest no permanent damage was done. At least not any that kept me from being useful to them. I have a lot of effects now in my adult life as I grow older however. I have noticed most survivors have a lot of physical effects as they grow older as well.
Anyway I am not sure how long the torture lasted but I guess ‘they ‘finally let me pass out or maybe I switched to another alter but I next remember having the blindfold off and it was night. I was very cold and numb and I tried to wiggle my hands and fingers but they were very numb and stiff. My wrists were tied and my arms stretched behind me against the tree. My legs were spread and tied at the ankles as well to the tree. I could feel the scratchy bark on my back and the next thing to set in was muscle cramps. That was almost as bad as the ear thing. Almost, the ear thing was still way worse. I wanted to cry but could not find the strength and my throat hurt too much to even moan. I tried to look around in the dark but could barely make out any shapes but the twisted look of the night trees in the shadows. It seemed as if I was all alone but I could sense something evil nearby. I could not tell if it was human or not but in any case I could not tell the difference. I wondered if this was the time ‘they’ would kill me and thought about the relief it would bring. Maybe I could go be with Jesus I thought. I next remember thinking about why I was there. I could hear The Dark Man’s voice growl in my ear “I will teach you to defy my orders!’ and it was then I felt a small painful smile cross my lips. I will always defy you! I thought to myself and then I felt the strength within fill me and I knew I would be OK.
It was pretty chilly this morning when I went out to tend to my critters. I can defiantly feel winter in the air. There has always been a lot I liked about each season and a lot I dreaded just as much. I try in my own way to always remember that my Heavenly Father created the seasons for good reasons and then the enemy came in and made the bad stuff.
Always with that in my mind I try and concentrate more on the good so I can push away the bad. I hate to give the enemy more credit then he is due. Besides all of that concentrating on only the bad takes away from all of the joy I would miss by being blinded all the time by the bad. I even try and take triggers and make them good, the way they were created, like butterflies for example. GOD created butterflies for a lot of wonderful reasons, not to mention how beautiful they are to look at and watch fly. The bad side took a beautiful creation and used it for bad thus making it hard if not impossible for some of us out there to enjoy much less look at. So, I decided to conquer that trigger and enjoy what the Father created for my good and pleasure. I have one bathroom in my house done with butterflies in honor of what GOD created for good. I prayed to my Father and asked Him to take away the fear and any triggers butterflies might have been put in me by handlers and programming. An amazing thing started happening. I was healed from that trigger/programming. It did not happen over night but as I gradually started handing my Father the things that were used to program and trigger me, one by one as He showed them to me the pain and fear started leaving and I could feel and see my deliverance happening more each day.
I am always praying for His truth, His discernment, and for Him to lead, guide and direct my path.
In truth I got tired of always watching my back and worrying about what might trigger me and set off a program. So I am always praying for ways to overcome through my Savior Jesus Christ and be delivered from such things in my life. Like I said before is has been a slow gradual process but a steady one. It had been a process I chose and one I have not regretted. It is a process I am still going through.
So I guess it all comes back to choice. We can choose to stay in the old ways of our strongholds, or we can choose freedom in Christ Jesus. He is the only thing that has worked for me, that s why I am always pointing people to Him. I am not telling anyone that this is what you have to do, however I am saying that this is what has worked for me and if you are in great pain and confusion I know He will work for you as well. I will stake my life on that. If you want to try something else then go for it. All I know is that I have found nothing else out there that has worked for me or given me any sort of deliverance or control, freedom or taken away the fear from ‘them’ and that ‘system’ of the ‘enemy’ except going to my Heavenly Father through His Son, Jesus Christ.
Some of you out there may be getting tired of always hearing about my faith. Well that is the main reason I am even writing this blog. I can validate your memories all day long but if I can not point you to a solution and to any real hope what good is validation? I just want to keep reminding you that through all the pain, in all the pain and coming out of the pain is one steady solution, hope and comfort, Jesus Christ.
I guess that when I think about all the things that have happened to me through out my life, the parts that affected my children hurt me the worst.
As a mom I know in my heart that I tried to protect them to the best of my ability however, the best of my ability was not always good enough.
I was always at a disadvantage in that being a person with alter personalities did not always make it easy for me to know what was going on at all times. I know that some of my other parts were very programmed in spite of how hard I fought and rebelled. There was just nothing I could do about that. Having to accept that parts of me allowed my children to get hurt is very painful. How much my children were hurt is something I still do not know, however by the way they act and react to things as adults lets me know that they were hurt a lot more then I had originally thought.
I was always kind of a quirky mom at best. I could be gentle and loving and patient at times and then be raging, impatient and cruel at other times. My kids have told me about times when I have said horrible things to them and I just have no memory at all. It really breaks my heart to think I would ever say cruel things to my kids, but I did just the same.
I have never been very good at handling a lot of stress…. Sigh… go figure? So when the stress level would go up so would the possibility of a rage. I could go along for long periods of time in what I would call my level moods. Nothing much would bother me, I would get a lot of things done pretty efficiently and I was a good mom, fairly content mom. But then when I was triggered by stress, a phone call or whatever I would blow like a volcano. I would throw things, I would rant, and I would lose all control and not understand at all what was happening to me. It felt as if my mind went off to somewhere else and I had no control over any rational thought processes. It was very scary for me and I often refer these times as my dark times.
I went back to school in my thirties and I was not able to complete one full semester with out going into a dark time. I managed to finish my class work (thanks to an alter named Rachael) and get my credits but I did not finish it in class. Most times I ended up in a psyche Ward before the semester was over. I would get so frustrated and then feel like every kind of failure.
It was the same way with holding a job. When the kids were young and after their dad left I had to try and make some money to support us. Well a conventional job was pretty much out as I could not handle being around people for any length of time without losing time and losing control period. I soon figured out that solitary jobs worked best for me. I cleaned houses, painted houses and buildings etc. I did some yard work that kind of thing. As long as I could pretty much work alone I did fairly well. I worked at a summer camp for several years and did housekeeping, painting and stuff and worked in the kitchen from time to time. I seemed to do well there also. Most of the people I worked with there knew I was a little off but they humored me and probably because I was a good worker and easy to get along with. I also worked as a home health care worker for a while, but the lady I took care of just happened to be someone I cared about a lot and it was more a labor of love then a job.
Even though I have come a long way in my healing I still have to watch stress levels, and thanks to the Lord, He has helped me a great deal in that area. I toy with the idea of getting an outside job however, my husband and daughter let me know right off that although I am doing quite well, maybe I should not rock the boat. I have to agree as we all know around here what a melt down for me is like, but with that said I am pretty busy in any case. My ministry of sorts keeps me busy, as well as my critters and that along with my family here is a pretty full time endeavor and a very rewarding one. I think I have finally gotten over the idea that I need to be bringing in money to be useful. But I have to admit I admire any survivor who can work an outside job and not have a melt down. I admire anyone who can be around a lot of people any length on time and not have a meltdown. I admire anyone who can handle this world and not have a meltdown at some point.
I think stress is a huge part of this life here on earth and you do not have to be a multiple to feel the effects. I think so called normal people have meltdowns and rages and do not always get things right with their kids. I think we are all a flawed bunch but most are trying to do right and get by as well as they can. We all fight our demons and pasts and all the things that makes us human. We all have are strong points and weak areas and are a work in progress our whole lives through.
In writing this blog I think one thing I really want to be clear about besides my faith is that I am very human, and a very flawed and at times broken human. I am no super saint, a perfect creature who has it all together. I struggle and struggle a lot.
I am Judy, a child of GOD and a survivor. I am only just beginning to even like the person I have become and except the person I am. However, I am always on the guard to make changes that are for the better and seek the Lord for guidance and help in making those needed changes.
So to you out there I have this to say…..keep on keeping on. As long as you stay on the path of truth and seek that truth with all of your heart you will be OK. It is a hard path to follow and many times quite painful, but it is full of hope, peace and life and on this planet that is a whole lot. Jesus is the way, the truth and the life……
After my first husband Rick and I married as I said a while back, he went into the service.
I was pretty nervous about being alone in our tiny apartment.
It was not long after Rick left that I started getting strange phone calls and weird people knocking at my door. Now remember I had no conscious memory of ever having been abused in any way so I had nothing to go on to explain the odd things that started happening to me.
Since we really did not have a working car at this point in our marriage I would walk everywhere I went or my mom would on occasion come and get me and take me to church or to her house to do the laundry etc. I had a neighbor who was newly divorced and had a little boy who would take me to the store sometimes.
I did not go to church much after I left home in the early part of my marriage. Only when my mom came and got me, but since I really hated the church we had been in for several years I only went because I felt guilty if I didn’t make an appearance now and then. It wasn’t as if anyone paid much attention. Oddly enough the same church I had been abused in for so long seemed to not even notice I was there after I got married. Maybe I was too old by then and not young enough to satisfy the sick old guys anymore and besides I did have a baby and was not as skinny and attractive anymore. Not to mention the stretch marks I acquired in this pregnancy. I was now flawed. Not that I had grown huge or anything but having a full term baby filled me out and I did not have the child like figure I had before.
So I stayed pretty much to myself and had no social life to speak of. Other then the single mom across the hall and a friend from high school coming by now and then I virtually saw no one. I took my baby with me to the library, to the park or just walking. I guess I must have put hundreds of miles on that baby stroller and Sunny seemed very content to always be going out for walks with her mom.
Now I must say at this point that although I have no memories of abuse or rituals at this point in my life I do know that I delivered packages and envelopes to various places in town. I would get deliveries by strangers at my apartment and then I would deliver them to where ever I was told, thus that now explains the strange calls etc. I did not understand back then. I now know that on a lot of those walks I was making deliveries to office buildings, the hospital nearby and a lot of other places even some churches. What I was delivering I have no idea. I never questioned anything, as I think I knew that as long as I did as I was told my baby would be OK.
When Sunny was about seven months old my dad showed up at my door. I was shocked as I had not seen nor heard from him since I was almost due with the baby. I do not remember much about his visit except when he got ready to leave. He took my head in his hands and said’ remember no matter what I love you’ then he handed me a twenty dollar bill and told me to get something for the baby.
I did not see him again until a few months or weeks later when he and my mom got their divorce. For some reason I was the one they wanted to be at the court house for the proceedings. I remember being set in between my parents on a bench outside the court room and feeling like a wishbone about to be broken into. That is all I remember about that except I know I saw the Dark Man in the court house standing outside the courtroom looking at me. End of memory. I was just a few months into being 18 at the time. I think it was after my third child was born before I have another memory of my dad.
Now during this time my mom was still living in our old house, however she got a friend from one of her prayer meetings to move in and share expenses. She was a nice lady and I liked her very much. She was messed up by all the charismatic mind control but I do believe she had a good heart. My mom started dating this creepy guy then as well and all I have to say about that is I am glad she did not marry him.
It was during this time that my mom was shot at and the house was broken into, she always told me it was my dad trying to kill her and who knows, it might have been. I will never completely know what to believe about my parents.
I already told earlier in my Eddie story about him coming to my apartment and those clueless memories. I also had people try and break in at night while Sunny and I slept during that time. A couple of neighbors in nearby apartments in the complex caught them trying to pry a window one time and scared them off and another time they were trying to pry my door open and ran off. It was weird because they were old apartments and it was very easy to get in. All I can think about it is the good Lord was watching out for us. Even the cops were perplexed about it all. I was so wishing Rick would get back from boot camp, but he was gone five months before he came home. And when he did he was really not the same anymore. He had a hard edge to him and he drank a lot more.
Our Marriage was a disaster movie but since I had no reference for a good normal relationship I though this was normal. No doubt Rick thought so as well. He was not a bad evil guy but like me Rick was pretty messed up and he had a lot of anger in him. Since he did not know what to do with that anger he drank and when he drank he got mean. When he got mean he often got violent and when he got violent I was the one he got violent with. Not a healthy scenario at all. And if I am very truthful I often provoked him in his anger. Now with saying that I am not giving him an excuse to abuse me or anyone else because abuse is wrong for any reason, however I do not want to lay the blame for the mess our marriage was in all on him and on his drinking. I believe that even if Rick had not drank or been physically abusive our marriage would have failed anyway.
I was not a good wife and he was not a good husband and we were not good together. So what do two dysfunctional kids do with all of that? Ha! They go on and have more kids, what else?
So soon after Rick got back from boot camp I became pregnant with our second child.
This pregnancy was pretty normal and I was not anywhere as sick as I was with my last baby so that was good. I had a baby boy this time and with an 18 month old toddler as well my hands were pretty full. We managed to move two more times while I was pregnant and ended up in an old house in a weird neighborhood, well if you could call it a neighborhood. We lived behind a mechanic shop and next to a used car lot. All around us was seedy bars and such. The house was infested with cockroaches and no matter how much I cleaned the place had a bad smell and felt dirty. I hated living there, and soon Ricks drinking became worse and the violence escalated and my rages did as well. I would lose track of days at a time and about four months after my second baby was born I learned I was pregnant again. I really did not mind having another baby but Rick felt very different. He wanted me to get an abortion. I would not even consider it. So he proceed to beat the hell out of me and how I did not lose that child is a miracle. But I managed to carry my sweet baby to term and had another boy. By then we had bought our first house and moved in to a new subdivision outside of Tulsa. It was a cute small house and best of all it smelled clean.
While I was near the end of my pregnancy Rick came home very drunk one night and was wild with violence. Tired of being beat and abused I snapped. When he passed out on the living room floor I went into the bedroom and put on his army boots and proceeded to kick the crap out of him. I worked him over and with all the anger and rage in me I did a pretty good job. The next morning when he woke up he was not moving around to well and he asked me what happened. I told him I was what happened to him and if he ever hit me again I would kill him in his sleep. He never hit me again.
So with my three babies in tow I managed to take pretty good care of us all. I cooked, cleaned and played with my babies. If I felt a rage coming on I put them in their rooms safely away from me and when I finished my rage I hugged them and kissed them and went on with my life. I tried to work a part time job a few times but I soon learned I could not handle being with people any length of time in the public. I did not understand why but I knew I was odd for some reason and it bothered me a lot. I tried to go back to church and that was a disaster and I tried to make friends with a few ladies in our new neighborhood and that was a disaster as well. I was very lonely.
My dad showed up somewhere about that time and he took Rick somewhere to work with him for a week. He gave me some used toys and a baby bed that belonged to my new half sister, (my dad remarried and that is another story in its self),told me to remember he loved me routine thing, handed me a twenty dollar bill and I did not see him again for a few more years.
I was in a panicked state after that and knew we needed to move again. I talked Rick into selling our new house we had been in barely a year and we moved to SE Okla.
The reason we ended up in SE Okla. Was that Rick had family down there and I really liked being close to the mini mountains in the area. I have always been kind of overwhelmed by the Rockies so the little mountains of the Kiamichi and Ouachita’s appealed to me much more. Ironically that was where my family roots came from. Was I programmed to move there? Maybe, probably, who knows?
We bought a small house on an acre of land in the country outside of broken Bow. Not long after we settled in the old familiar black outs started happening again, where I would awaken in the middle of taking care of my home. My kids always looked clean and fed and happy so I guess whatever alter came out they must have taken very good care of the children. We had a lot of living room picnics in bad weather and I was always trying to think up new things to entertain my kids however, they had huge imaginations and did pretty well on their own for entertainment. Besides having 3 babies less than 3 years of age was enough to keep anyone busy and I usually had two in diapers and not the disposable kind.
I think it was about March of that year when I was 21 that I got my first attack. What I mean is the first spiritual attack where I had no clue what was going on. I had these attacks as a teen but not since then. One morning very early after Rick had just left for work I went back to bed. I remember hearing something and though he had come back home for some reason. I turned over in my bed about to ask Rick what was wrong when this huge vapor like creature materialized by my bed. I remember the size of it being just massive and it was the shape of a man because I saw the very broad shoulders. Before I could think about it, that thing fell on me and I felt as if I was being raped. It was very painful, I was paralyzed and I could not breathe or speak. I was terrified. My mind was trying to process what was happening to me and I thought I was going to die. I tried to call out to the Lord and when I had just about given up I screamed JESUS, and it left. Poof! Just like that.
Needless to say I was un-nerved. I could not think what might have happened to me and I was terrified to boot.
I remember walking around in a daze for a few days trying to understand what had happened to me and I finally got up the nerve to ask a neighbor who used to own our house if there had even been any paranormal activity there. She looked at me like I was nuts so I changed the subject very quickly.
After this incident I went into a very dark depression. I kind of thought about killing myself and then would look at my babies and think about how no one would take care of them and love them like I would. I cried a lot and it felt as if a dark cloud had descended upon me. My thinking processes were not right and I began to fear I would not take care of my babies safely so I somehow found someone to help me. I do not know how or who all I know is that ended up in a mental hospital. I was admitted to Carl Albert’s Mental Hospital in McAlester OK. I was there for a month or so and then released to Rick and a satellite of the hospital in a nearby town to monitor me on a regular basis. Ironically I was not put on a lot of meds; they only gave me Valium which I had sense enough not to take. Rick was told that I was in a very fragile mental state and I could go over the line at anytime and be in an institution for the rest of my life. I did not believe that. I knew I had problems and they were serious but I also had faith I was going to hold on and fight. I had babies to take care of. They also told me that under no circumstances to never have anymore children. So what did I do? I got pregnant. I was so determined to have a family not even realizing Rick did not feel the same and I was not even considering how he might have felt about it. He was growing steadier in his anger and resentment and he was fond of telling me that these were my kids he didn’t ask for them and besides he had missed his childhood and was tired of responsibility. So this soon leads to him taking off and leaving me to deal with the family we had created. He had his national guard weekends and two weeks in the summer and then he got on the police force in a nearby town and that kept him busy as well. When he would get enough he would move out and leave me to deal with unpaid bills and hungry kids. I would get things sorted out and he would come back and this went on for about 3 or 4 years.
I was going to different churches then as well trying to find some truth and help spiritually, a lot of good that did. The more I searched and reached out the more I was rejected and hurt. One church I attended was a Word Faith church and they even told me I was praying wrong and it was my fault Rick was not taking care of us. I was not living right, I had no faith and if I would get it all together he would as well. Since I was so very young and naïve I believed them for a time. I thought I was a major loser and Rick could not love me because I was a bad person and wife, a bad Christian and I would never be able to get things right. I went to bible studies at different churches, I searched and tried to ask questions and all I got was more questions. No one could tell me anything at all that eased my pain or made any sense.
I had my forth baby, another little sweet boy and within five months I was pregnant again. I thought I was on birth control so I was confused why I got pregnant again so soon and since my body had, had about enough I had a hard time carrying this baby. Five babies in less then 6 years is a lot and I was not yet 23 when I got pregnant with my fifth baby. No wonder Rick was corking out. Can anyone imagine a guy of 23 dealing with five babies and a wife who switched personalities with the weather?
Well when I continue this next part is going to be pretty hard…. Another part of my life I do not like to think about as it is not a proud time for me at all…
During the time I was having my babies I was also still having those ‘visitations’ from that entity and my children were seeing things as well. I was trying to find the answers but I really could not trust anyone and the churches I went to were of no help. I was not close to my brother and sister and virtually no contact with them, as they were fighting their own battles and raising families plus we did not live near each other. The biggest part of the time I didn’t even have a phone connected. I did not talk to my mom much and my dad not at all. I felt very isolated lonely and depressed. I had quit going to the follow up center at Carl Albert’s as well. Money was very tight and mostly not there. I didn’t have access to a car as Rick took it when he worked and when he decided he needed a break and just up and left.
When I finally had my fifth baby Rick did not even bother to show up but he had not shown up the last time either so I was not very surprised. Here I was 23 years old in the mountains of Talihina OK. Alone having a baby and having a hard time. At one point I felt myself slipping away and there was a doctor standing beside me tapping my face and calling out to me not to give up and hang in there, I could also hear them talking about my blood pressure dropping. Anyway I did hang in there and went on to have a healthy baby girl.
I brought my new baby home to an indifferent husband but a very excited Sunny, happy to have a sister finally.
The depression after my last baby was horrible and the worst yet however, as bad as it was I never completely gave into it. I knew I had babies to tend too and no one else to fall back on, my mother-in-law did not like me at all and I had no family to help out, no friends I was alone and on my own and I knew it. If I had not been a multiple I know I could not have even gotten up in the morning to be a mom.
What I could not understand was why I kept having these depressions. I had read about the baby blues and I figured I had a good reason to have that but I felt a failure just the same.
I worked hard to keep a clean home and clean children and I think all in all I did pretty good however I was so lonely and isolated I often felt like I was going to go mad.
Now during this time I did do a lot with my kids. I was always doing the picnic thing, going for nature walks, doing crafts, reading to them and stuff, so I was a good mom in part, unless a really dark time came on and then I would put them in their rooms and black out only to wake up to a trashed house that I had to clean up. It was like I went berserk. I was always very ashamed and went to my kids and told them I was sorry and wrong for losing control. Since they were used to a weird mom I guess they thought it was normal.
I remember one time when Sunny was about six after her sister was born I went into a black out and trashed her room only to wake up about to pick her up and throw her. I was horrified. I just crumbled to the floor sobbing and holding her and telling her I was sorry over and over. I checked on her brothers who were in their bed huddled together with big brown eyes crying. I held them sobbing as well and told them I was so sorry and that I loved them. The baby was asleep in her crib oblivious to her mom’s craziness.
I then cleaned the bedrooms and fed the kids and spent the rest of the afternoon reading to them on the couch. But the sadness and sense of failure was always there in me and I was so ashamed.
When my last baby was a few months old my dad made one of his rare appearances. Since I never talked to him or told him where I lived I was shocked to see him show up one day out of the blue.
I don’t think he stayed long. He brought sugar baby candy and cracker jacks for my kids, handed me a twenty dollar bill and before he left, he held my head in his hands and told me to remember that no matter what happens he will always love me.
I always felt shaken and confused when he left.
Also during this time I started getting involved with the Choctaw head start program as my kids were going there. I volunteered a lot and was even training to be a teacher’s aid. I had been trying for years to get my GED to no avail; I even went to community college for a while. At least one part of me did. It was one time when Rick and I were separated and I was trying to get some training to support my kids. Anyway I managed to get a car and get on my feet and such and when I got things handled Rick would come home with hat in hand and a preacher vouching that he had repented and was a changed man. I was a sucker and because I thought I loved him and he was the father of my kids always was talked into taking him back. But nothing ever changed for us.
During the time I was working in the head start program I was trying yet again to get my GED. I am ashamed to say I became involved with the teacher over the GED program. He was almost 30 years older then me. What I was thinking back then I have no idea but what I do know is that this man bought food and clothes for my kids when I could not and paid my electric bill when I could not and was really decent to me and my babies. He was even willing to pay for my divorce and marry me. I did think about it. I did not love him but he was likable and cared and at 24 that was enough for me. Needless to say that did not happen and Rick came back home.
Then somewhere in that time frame a tornado hit the area and caused a lot of damage and since Rick was in the National Guard was dispatched out to guard from looters. Well things happened and he got in trouble and lost his rank, his job and we were not in a good place on any level.
I continued to see the other man off and on and I felt horrible and bad and depressed. Rick on the other hand was not doing to well either. We ended up moving to another state to start over and left our home and gave away most of our things. When we got moved Rick could not seem to find a job so he left me and the kids and went to yet another state. So here I was in a strange state with five babies, no money, winter coming on, no way to buy propane to heat and cook with but not really any food anyway to cook. A baby in diapers one in training pants, no washer or hot water and the only way to heat water was a crock pot and electric skillet. Try washing diapers in cold water, bathing kids in cold water and cooking with nothing. I was in a mess. It was a living nightmare and things were so bad the principle bought shoes for my boys because the ones they were wearing to school were so pitiful. I guess someone observed my plight and called in help because on very cold day after a very cold night I was praying for some serious help when two ladies knocked on my door.
These ladies helped me get food, propane and took me to a place where I could pick out some used clothes for my kids and loaded me up with disposable diapers. They also took me to a laundry so I could wash up all of our things. To say I was grateful is a huge understatement. But I knew that this was only a temporary fix, I had to think long term and I was scared.
Then Rick showed back up and decided we needed to go back to OK. Not knowing what else to do I agreed but my heart was heavy and as always I felt a failure.
If this story is getting boring I am sorry but I have to get through this to get to the rest. Besides this is not a great thing for me to remember either…..so with that all I have to say…
So to continue on with this story…..
I still do not have any memories of rituals or otherwise at this time in my life. Does that mean I was not being used and under programming? I know I was still very much under my programming even then, I mean I had not gotten any kind of help or even knew about it on the surface to ask for help. All I knew was that I had some serious problems that I could not figure out what to do with or even what was causing them. I was having horrible nightmares and blackouts from time to time and I still had major issues with every church I tried to attend but I just thought I needed to try harder, what ever that meant. I just could not seem to be good enough at anything, especially relationships.
The only thing I could seem to love was my children and as hard as I tried I felt a failure at motherhood as well. I was having horrible headaches and I was even sent to Okla. City when I was pregnant with my forth baby to have a brain scan done. As a matter of fact I was sent to various places for brain scans during the time I was with Rick. Now I wonder if it was for something else.
When Rick and I got back to Okla. we had to live with his mom for a while. Not a good thing but fortunately his aunt had an empty house we could live in for a short time and with a lot of elbow grease we moved in. Well at least the kids and I did. Rick vanished again so I found a job at a chicken plant and tried to support my children as best I could. I met a nice man at the plant who was a lot older then me, like the last one, but this man had four children of his own that he was raising, as their mom had ran off. I like him a lot but I really liked his kids, so on my days off I packed my kids up and off we went to Bud’s. I would cook a good meal for him and his kids and then usually go outside and play volley ball or whatever with all the kids. His kids were young teens and preteens but they loved my little ones and we all seemed to get a long pretty well.
This lasted about 3 months or so until one day Rick showed up and said he had changed and had gotten back on another police force. He wanted us to come with him. Bud wanted me to stay and marry him and I was tempted as I really loved his kids but like a dummy I went with Rick instead. We moved into an old house that had so many air leaks daylight could be seen coming through some places. I scrubbed and cleaned and tried to make a home and we started going to a Choctaw church.
For the next few months things actually went pretty well. I did not have any black outs or rages, we did not fight and things seemed almost normal. Then little by little Rick stopped going to church with us and then he started coming home later and later and then I started getting calls about my husband being seen at a woman’s house in the nearby town where he worked.
I did not want to believe things were going to the crapper yet again but one day I got up the nerve to go to the police department. Rick usually worked nights but this time he was working in the day. The calls I was getting told me it was the dispatcher’s house he was seen at so since I knew she was at work as well I decided to drop in without notice. To make a long story short I knew as soon as I saw them together that things were not right.
I acted as if nothing was wrong but later that evening I confronted Rick. I told him it was her or us he could not have both.
He moved out the next day and moved in with her. Guess I got my answer. I was devastated. You would think by that time I would be used to all of this craziness but I really thought that this time we would make it.
The preacher came over a few days later and told me he would be praying Rick would come back home, I told the preacher to please do not do me any damn favors. Well needless to say I got kicked out of the church. I did not care at that point as I was sick of preachers, church and everything else.
Ricks family turned on me pretty bad as well but blood is usually thicker then water so I was not surprised.
I went into another bad depression after that and with winter coming on I was desperate. The house we were in was not made for a cold winter and this one proved to be a bad one coming on. I also started finding food hidden in my children’s bedrooms. Since daddy had left again they just assumed we would not have enough food to get by and they would get hungry. I swallowed my pride and got on food stamps right away and tried to find a job, too no avail.
I thought a lot about my life thus far. Here I was with this little family and all alone raising them and not having an education, a horrible time keeping up with time and I was not a very sociable person to boot. I was 25 almost 26 and Rick and most everyone else in my life had always told me I was worthless, stupid and unattractive and I felt that deep inside to be true.
Where was my faith at this point? Well I guess I didn’t have much. My mom would call me from time to time to tell me how GOD was doing new thing in my life and then she would tell me to not do anything stupid. Since I had gotten my tubes tied a few months after my last baby was born she did not worry about me getting pregnant again.
I was having a lot of physical problems I did not understand during this time. I did not know I had ever been abused and I did not know that because of years of abuse my body was breaking down. I ended up going to a doctor who was not very good and probably one of ‘them’ and he did a lot of damage to me as well. I started having crazy rashes and kidney problems and it seemed everything was crashing down on me. I thought about going to a church to be prayed for but I figured I would just get blamed for not having enough faith and blamed for running my husband off. I was on welfare by this time and felt about as low as a person could get. All I could hear in my head was ‘poor white trash, Judy you are poor white trash’ round and round the voice would go. How was I going to keep my babies warm? How was I ever going to get out of the mess I had made of my life? Did GOD even love me, could He love me? Could anyone? But then I would see the trusting brown eyes of my babies and I knew they loved me and trusted me. They did not care what I was or who I was only that I was their mom and I would not leave them. I knew in my heart that I would do anything for my babies, the only thing in my life that ever made sense and felt right. I might be a mistake but they were not. They were my reason to keep fighting.
I think in all of my life nothing ever came easy for me. I am not complaining, however it would have been nice once in a while to see what it might have been like had I not had to spend my life just trying to survive. But since survival was all I ever knew, that is the mode I stayed in and continue on even today.
I do consider myself extremely blessed to be a survivor because I have known many others who were not. I think surviving is a gift and not something to take lightly especially when that surviving is done in a constructive way and not in a way that hurts yourself and everyone around you. I think I have survived both ways in that I have hurt people around me to keep surviving but all in all I have managed to survive in a lot more constructive ways then not. That in my book is a gift from GOD.
So with saying all of that I shall continue….
My neighbors feeling sorry for me thought they would do me a favor and decided to set me up with one of their friends. That turned out to be one of the biggest mistakes of my life. One I have regretted every day since. I went on a blind date and even though we did not officially get together then we did a few months later. He was a truck driver I will call Jim and was gone before I had a real chance to know him and although I did see him a few times it was close to spring before we really became a couple. But I will get back to that later.
The winter was getting colder and our house was colder as well. I only had two small gas heaters and enough air leaks to make it impossible to heat. I had a gallon bucket of water freeze over night on the kitchen table it was so cold. As expected all my water lines froze up as well, so I had to use my friend’s bathroom across the street to bathe the kids and haul water. It was a mess and I was desperate to find better housing for the children.
I finally managed to get into government housing but the only place open was about 40 miles away and would not be ready until after the first of the year. I took it. In the mean time I found a lady who did 50 dollar divorces and filed.
All I basically remember about my divorce was when after I went to court and it was final, I cried and cried and felt like the worlds biggest failure. I felt like I had let GOD down by not hanging in there. Rick did not want to stay married and nothing would have changed but I still did not feel good about it.
I think I need to say here a little bit about Rick. I know I have made him sound like a creep but in truth he really wasn’t a bad guy. He was messed up but not bad. I was messed up as well and I take responsibility for my part in the destruction of our marriage. We were both to blame. I made many huge mistakes myself, it was not a one sided break up. I think we both knew we could not fix things between us. I also think we loved each other as much as we knew how and could under the circumstances. Let’s face it the odds were stacked way against us. Neither one of us had ever seen a functional relationship at work. And we were both from messed up homes, with dysfunctional parents. We would not have known how to make that marriage work under any circumstances during that time in our lives. I really do not think Rick took the divorce very well either but like me he knew we were not ever going to figure out how to make it work. We just did not have enough information to work with. Well enough said about that.
So we moved yet again. Rick and his cousin did help move us and not long after we settled in I had surgery by the bogus doctor. I got through that and tried to settle in but it was tough. The kids were tired of all the moves and the new schools and I was having black outs again. I usually had them when the kids were in school and would wake up with my two youngest in the car with me not knowing where I had been or anything. It was horrible and I did not know who to tell or trust in any case if I did tell.
My friend Bud and his kids lived near by and we went to a few auctions and visited off and on but nothing serious. Then one night after going to an auction with Bud I came home and Jim was there, the truck driver. I was confused since I had never told him where I had moved so I did not know how he found me. I was not sure if I was glad he was there or not. I think my gut was trying to warn me but I did not have sense enough to listen.
So when I continue I will try and get through the next couple of nightmarish years with Jim and that will lead to how ‘they’ tried to trap me into ‘their’ game and how by a miracle my children and I barely escaped.
OK, so I am going to attempt to pick up where I left off a few days ago. I left with the beginning of Jim and my second marriage.
Jim was an idiot and if that sounds harsh it is meant too. I was an idiot to have married him. In any case hind sight is always 20/20 and in this case that is a definite.
My only excuse and defense I have for back then is the fact I was young, scared, unsure of myself and I had five children to feed and no self confidence that I could manage on my own. To say that I was naive is an understatement. I still cringe when I think of those few years I was with that man. I wish I could come up with some kind of redeeming feature about that marriage, but I can not.
Let me see if I can describe Jim in a way to make you understand anything at all about him. First off he was barely a functional illiterate. Now that in itself is not a bad thing nor does it make someone an idiot however, in his case that was true. I think I was a masochist in that I chose to not only put up with him, I married him. I guess I am not describing Jim very well only talking about my feelings about him.
OK, so let me start again. Jim drove a truck for a living and gave all of his money to his dad to handle and only got an allowance, which continued after we got married for the most part. He was an only child and even though he was ten years older then me, I would say he was more on the emotional level of a fifteen year old very immature boy. His dad made most all of his decisions but marrying me was not one of them and his dad hated me right off the bat. His mom was a sweet woman but very controlled and dominated by his dad.
He would not let me read when he was around unless it was something he wanted me to translate for him. One time he came home after driving non stop for almost 24 hours and told me someone had given him some white stuff to sniff in a dollar bill and it was great for keeping him awake. I did not know a lot about drugs but even I knew what that was and when I told him he did not believe me. He could barely read signs or maps so how he managed to drive all over the country was as amazement to me and he did it with a perpetual buzz.
Jim was the kind of guy who really thought he was being smart when he did something really stupid. He was always trying to make a lot of money doing stuff that was not only outrageous but dangerous. Here is an example: he would raid someone’s marijuana crop, put the grass in plastic bags, leave it in his trunk where it would sweat and ruin and not even be smart enough to wonder if driving around with several huge bags of marijuana was dangerous, or worry about the guys he stole it from coming after him. So not only did he risk his life raiding a crop, he risked getting caught and then he did not even know what to do with the stuff after he got it. I think he had the mark of stupid criminal all over him.
Jim was mean a lot of the time. He was nice to the kids the first year we were together but he started off not liking me pretty much from the beginning. Like maybe twenty minutes after we got married. He hated my books, he hated my music, he hated the way I looked, the way I cooked and how I cleaned the house. I basically could not do anything right.
The best part of our marriage was that he was gone a lot the first two years, driving his truck.
So now with that picture I will try and tell this part of my life which I would rather forget.
The only reason I am going to attempt this part is because I want you all to understand that I am not in any place to condemn anyone out there for getting into bad situations and making bad decisions. I am literally writing the book about it. HA!
When Jim showed up at my house after a few months of not even hearing from him or telling him where I was, was kind of a shock. Why I even let him stay is a mystery to me but letting him stay was what I did. I can not even remember what I was feeling in that period of my life. In truth I think I was revolving a lot in personalities and I believe one of my ‘others’ inside related to him in an odd way. Also I think I was triggered and being set up by ‘them’ as well. Looking back it all seems to fit pretty well, especially since he found me the way he did after I had moved.
We married in a court house a couple of months later and I do remember feeling like a trapped deer at the time. I even remember wondering to myself why I was doing this as I did not love him or particularly like him. I felt like a robot.
Not long after we were married we moved to a little town in Okla. called Swink. It was not far from where his parents lived. Anyway things really started getting weird for me there and continued for the next few years. By the way Rick was not around during anytime of my marriage to Jim. He moved away and had virtually no contact with me or the kids. He was even willing to let Jim have the kids, but I am glad to say that did not happen.
The first house we lived in at Swink, the kids and I called the skunk house. That was because shortly after moving in we discovered a den of skunks living under it. That is a story in itself, one I will not go into here.
Anyway when we lived there I had a wisdom tooth removed and weirdly enough I almost died from that. I ended up getting lock jaw; yes that is what I said you know tetanus. I am a major statistic for surviving that one. I survived however, another long story I will not get into, but oddly enough the dentist who removed my tooth died in a motor cycle accident a few months later. Weird things happen to us survivors. I have always had a huge aversion to dentists like all monarch survivors, maybe because dentists were a huge part of what ‘they’ did to us. Anyway also during that time I came into contact with my dad again.
Now this is kind of a weird thing about my dad and how I saw him again.
It seems that somehow after several years I got in touch with him. I have virtually no memory how or why I would have done that, and since I did not have any phone number or address for him I am still clueless how this happened. I think Jim had a lot to do with that but I can not validate that, it is only a guess.
So anyway Jim took me up by Tulsa to see my dad at his house. That in itself was really weird. I do not remember who for sure my kids stayed with while we were gone over night. I remember meeting my then ten year old half-sister and discovering that my steppe mother was none other then the past wife of a man that worked for my dad when I was a kid. Seems she has more then one name, and she was also connected to the Satanists who lived in the first neighborhood we had moved to in Tulsa when I was 11, not surprising when I finally connected the dots many years later.
I do not remember a lot about that visit but I know I was happy to meet my half sister and was hoping to see her again.
My next memory was a few weeks later when my dad called and said he never wanted to see me again and as far as he was concerned I was dead. I was crying hysterically when I got off the phone and Jim asked me what was wrong. I told him what my dad had said, so he called him right back. I do not remember what he said to my dad but after he got off the phone he told me that my dad had answered and said he could not talk as there had been a death in the family.
I was devastated as I could not understand why my dad had said such a thing and why he hated me so much. Jim seemed actually compassionate but now I wonder how much was he a part of the whole thing. I did not hear from my dad again for almost two years and then he denied the whole thing.
Not long after that I got the move bug and so we moved into another house the kids and I labeled the scorpion house, for obvious reasons. It was way out in the country by Swink close to the Red River bottoms. I lost a lot of time while I was in Swink and later I think things will begin to make sense why.
While we lived in the scorpion house a lot of paranormal things began happening to us. I would hear what I thought were the kids walking down the hall at night, only to find them sleeping soundly in their beds. I would see dark shapes in the house and hear voices speaking outside my window at night but no one was there. Jim was on the road a lot so I was alone most of the time out there. Strange people would drive by the house and slow down and just stare at the house and sometimes even stop. I was told by several people who lived around there that a lot of people came up missing on that road I lived on and most of the people who told me this acted really odd when they talked to me. Almost like I was getting a warning, but since I was not knowing what was going on I remained virtually clueless, but disturbed.
After a few months in that house I went into the local store, which was on the main highway. It was basically a convenience, feed store. Anyway the owner who lived in a house behind the store asked me if I was interested in renting his house. He and his wife were divorcing and since it was such a big house he did not want to live there alone and since I had all those kids it might be a good place for us. The rent was way cheaper and it was not way out of town on that creepy road. So without even thinking about it I said yes, and when Jim came home I told him we were moving again and he did not even seem surprised.
This turned out to be another one of my big mistakes. Back then I never thought to pray about things or even question anything much, I seemed to go with the tides and get slammed into the shore, rocks and all. It was like I lived in a fog.
The first night in our new home was not a good one. I got the kids to bed and felt very uneasy all evening. Not long after I lay down beside Jim in our room I heard the most horrible voice yell by my side almost in my ear. “Get out of this house! Leave! If you do not leave now, your marriage will be over and so will you!!!” I freaked out and oddly enough Jim was sound asleep. When I shook him awake and told him we had to leave he told me I was nuts and to go the hell to sleep…..
I think I need to add a few things here as I have left out quite a lot at this point. For one thing my relationship with the Lord was on pretty lame ground. Oh I prayed with my kids each night and at meals and I talked to my maker off and on now and then but as for really trying to serve Him or trust Him I was lacking in all ways. Lets face it I was lost. I knew my life was out of control but after the church stuff being of no use and having no answers other then blaming me for being a failure I could not think where to go or how to even ask GOD for any help. I was still pretty bitter from being dumped by my last church as well and I really did not trust anyone calling them selves ‘Christian’ at this point. I had just had too many ‘Christians’ treat me like I was trash and turn their backs on my kids and me when we were down.
Also at this point I need to mention that Jim had a son. He was about 11 when we married and he lived with Jim’s parents. All I can say about this kid is that he was just like his dad. I tried to love him and be good to him but this kid was the kind of kid that if he grew up to be a serial killer it would not be a shock as he had all the signs in childhood. I still wonder what happened to make that kid so mean and so without a conscience. He was very sadistic not unlike his dad and at this point that is all I am going to say about him, more will be forthcoming later.
Now back to The House……
So this house my kids would call the Haunted House, anytime they referred to it. To say it was haunted is probably an understatement. Right away we were all creeped out by that place. Jim was gone most of the time we lived there so he did not experience anything unusual, however since he was unusual I should have figured that one out.
The house was pretty big and the three oldest kids had their own rooms upstairs. They were excited to be having their own rooms for the first time as most kids are. The two youngest shared a room downstairs across the hall from me. There were several rooms in the back of the house we were not even using by the laundry and I really hated to go back there even to do laundry, the whole house always looked dark even on very sunny days. It was like blackness always hung over it. I even remembering thinking back then that it felt like it was a place where satanic rituals had been held and then I felt creepy for thinking that at all. I think memories might have been creeping in from my past but since my front personality had no memories of abuse I did not know where the ritual thing was coming from. Like I said it was a big house and really cheap rent, which should have tipped me off big time from the beginning that something was wrong with it, plus the fact I did not have to put up a deposit.
I tried to pretend the yelling by my bed the first night did not happen but I was spooked from then on none the less. The damage had been done as far as I was concerned. Then my kids started telling me that they were seeing things in their rooms. My middle son said someone was looking in his window and scaring him and since he was on the second floor that was impossible to be a person. My oldest son saw an apparition at the foot of his bed that scared him so bad he made his brother sleep with him from then on, not that his brother minded, he was terrified as well. My daughter was seeing things also and I think she joined her brothers more then once before the nights were over.
My two little ones were complaining of something in their room too and one night when Jim was home and in a very disagreeable mood I ended up sleeping with the two youngest. That was when I saw the little rocker in their room start rocking with no on in it. I felt a darkness descend over the room and it scared the mess out of me. I started sleeping with the little ones most nights or on the living room couch. I hated my bedroom as well. I often heard voices whispering and saw shadows following me, I hated to be alone in that place.
When Jim did get to come home from the road his moods became darker and darker and he became more violent with me. I knew something had to be done but when I suggested we move again Jim would hit the ceiling cussing and letting me know it was not going to happen.
Other things weird were happening as well. There were huge shrubs between the house and the store so I could not see the parking lot from the house. I could hear cars pull up and such however. Anyway one night I was talking to a friend on the phone, the kids were asleep and Jim was gone. It was about ten or eleven o’clock at night and the store was long closed. All of a sudden I heard a bunch of cars pull up by the store and car doors slamming. I could hear people yelling and cussing and it sounded like they were hitting the side of the feed store that was metal. I was getting kind of scared and they were so loud my friend Millie could hear them over the phone. She was worried about me as I was alone with the kids and no one else was nearby, so she hung up the phone and I called the Sheriff in Hugo and reported what was happening. They said they would send someone out right away but it would be about 30 minutes before they could get there. In the mean time I called Millie back to stay on the phone with me until the police got there. A few minutes later I heard the people leave and all was quiet too which I was glad. Then about thirty minutes later it all started over again but even louder this time. I was wondering where the law was and so was Millie. This went on for about fifteen or more minutes and then all was quite again. Soon after that the police pulled up the drive. Millie stayed on the phone while I went out to talk to the police.
I told the police what had happened and that the people had just left only to be told by the police that no one had been there. The said they had been parked for almost an hour across the highway and saw nothing going on at all.
I started to argue with them but when I saw the looks on their faces I shut up. Something weird was going on, I just could not figure out what. Then they proceeded to tell me that there had been a lot of robberies around the area and mostly guns were taken then asked me if I had seen anything odd. I was kind of confused as to why they would ask me that but I had remembered a bunch of guns my kids found, they were in the garage we did not use. I had thought it was some of the stuff the owner has stored and told the kids to stay out of the garage. I told the police that for some stupid reason and when I did they looked at me really weird. I think I might have taken them to the garage but the guns were gone and it was too dark to really look around. They left after that and said some other things to me which I have no idea what they said.
I was confused and scared after they left. I knew something was very wrong and that my kids and I might be in danger. I think my friend thought so as well, she said I needed to move.
There was a locked shed out back of this house also that I could see a light on some nights and I also saw a lot of flashlights in the woods behind the back yard as well.
When Jim came in I tried to tell him about the odd things going on but he would tell me his favorite phrase “just shut the hell up!” lot of good he was.
About a week after the police thing I was coming home from grocery shopping and saw a man handcuffed to a tree by the store, he did not look very well. I thought that was weird so after I took my groceries in the house I walked over to the store in pretense of buying cigarettes to see if I could find out what was going on. To my surprise the man was gone and when I asked my landlord about the man, he acted like I was nuts. He said there had been no one there and then kind of chuckled like I had said something funny.
Ok, now I was really beginning to think I had gone nuts or was in the process of it. Then a not long later after I had paid my rent for the month my landlord told me we would have to move. I pointed out that I had just paid my rent and would have to have time to find another place. He said I needed to move A.S.A.P and I would get my money back.
In truth I was glad to have a reason to be moving that Jim could not argue about but I had no money to move with or for a deposit or anything but I started looking anyway. About a week later with no luck in finding a place I saw an Indian/Native American man walk up my drive and I went outside to see what he wanted. Turned out he happened to be the Choctaw Chief at that time, Hollis Roberts. He informed me that he owned the place, house land, store all of it and he wanted me to move out A.S.A.P.
“You have five little Choctaw children don’t you?” I said yes that I did. He basically told me that if I wanted to keep them I had better move. I blacked out while he was talking to be honest and I only remembered a bit of what he said back then, but I do know he was trying to scare the hell out of me and he knew my dad and he knew a lot about me. I remember telling him I needed my rent money back but I am not sure what he told me about that.
So I found another house we called the Choctaw Chiefs house because it was across the yard from a historical log cabin that used to belong to a Choctaw Chief back in the 1800’s.
My kids were thrilled to be moving, Jim was mad as usual and I was glad to be getting away from the Haunted House. By the way I never got my money back and that Choctaw Chief ended up in prison several years later.
So, now we are in yet another house in the same area. This house was pretty far out in the country but it was in a nice setting. The house was old but OK and it had a wonderful yard for the kids to play in with a pond and some small woods by it. Best of all I do not remember any paranormal activity there. But with that all said we did not live there very long. The landlord was a friend of my ex. They had been in the National Guard together and I had even been to his house and met his wife and kids when Rick and I were still together. Anyway this guy was a creep as he hit on me pretty hard trying to get me to have an affair with him. He was arrogant and thought he was doing me a favor by trying to seduce me. I did not like him at all and he reminded me of things I did not understand. I know now it was the military stuff from my background being triggered. I know he showed up unannounced a few times and tried to get rough with me. Since Jim was gone most of the time I was an easy target.
I really do not have enough memories to know if he raped me or anything like that, all I know is I despised him.
Another part of this story about living in this community called Swink I think I should address now.
This town mainly consisted of that store I lived by on the highway, a school that went from kindergarten to I think seventh or eight grades and the school only had about maybe 70 students at any one time. There was a post office and a community of houses with maybe 100 people in all.
I think I spent as much time being triggered there as I did not. I probably will never know what all happened to me or the kids while we lived there but I will try and tell what I can remember then and now. Also I think I should say that there is two parts of our time in Swink. The previous was part one, part two will be later as we left the town and came back. In part two, I will get into a lot more detail about the town and the school and how it all ended up connecting with my background, my dad, the Dark Man and other things. I think by just reading about part one some things are already becoming clear in not so subtle ways.
OK now to the Chief’s house.
Jim was supposedly driving his own truck for the last year or so as he had split from his dad. I do not think he ever really split but that is not important to this story. All I can say is that Jim had a drug problem, an anger problem and he steadily grew in his hatred for me.
I got a job during this time selling gifts to make some money for the kids Christmas and was pretty busy with that. I did pretty well. Anyway I spent time at the school doing things with the kids and it looked like a pretty normal life on the surface. Under the surface I was getting weird phone calls, I was starting to drink, mostly wine coolers but way too many. I was smoking like a freight train and I was so nervous anything would make me jump and scream. I would remember getting into the car when the kids left for school and then remember getting out before they got home only to not remember what happened in between. In thinking back to that time it is amazing what I do not remember more then what I do.
Whenever Jim did decide to come home he mostly spent his time at his parents or with other people, hardly ever did he spend anytime with me. So I could be anywhere or with anyone and no one was likely to ever know or care.
It was during this time that I met a man who lived in a nearby town. I was introduced to him one day while I was doing some shopping for the kids and was standing in the street. It was kind of weird because when I was introduced to him I remember that he looked familiar to me and I got this butterfly feeling in my gut. I pushed that feeling away and went on with my business but not long after that meeting, on my birthday I ended up meeting him again.
Now I never did or still do not do birthdays very well. I am getting better about it as I heal but my birthday is still a time to make me feel anxious. Back then was different. I usually blacked out before the day was over if I even was conscious of it to start with.
This particular birthday I think I turned 27.
Anyway I have always remembered being in a restaurant sitting across from this man I will call Ron. He was in this mid thirties and that is about all I remember, I just can not remember what he looked like. He had two kids and his wife had died, I remember him telling me that. I think he knew who I was and I think he was surprised to see me living in that area. I get the impression he had known me a long time but I still do not know the connection. I remember going for a drive with him, going to a lake at one point and having an intense talk I can not recall at all and then nothing.
I have another memory of being at his house with my kids making supper and watching all the kids playing. His brother came in and started talking to me and asked me if I were married. I remember saying yes like it was not a big deal and going on with what I was doing. Ron came into the kitchen and gave his brother an odd look that confused me. All I can really remember feeling was that it was like I was sleepwalking. It seemed like I should have questioned being there but I could not quite think too.
After Christmas, Jim sent me on a mission to Texas to find another house to rent. He had switched to another trucking company and wanted me where he could stop in more often to check up on the kids and me. His son was going to be living with us at that time as well. I found a place outside of Wills Point about 50 miles east of Dallas. I put up the deposit and was suppose to meet Jim at a truck stop. Something happened and he did not make it and I left to drive back home. It was very cold and sleeted off and on and I remember feeling agitated and upset about something.
The next thing I knew I was at Ron’s and I ended up staying the night. It was another kind of weird memory as I got the impression as I was leaving the next morning that he was afraid for me and did not want me to go. In my all too familiar state of confusion I felt as if I had done this before and was leaving something I was forced to leave before and I had been hurt by it. But I did not take the time to try and remember what my mind was trying to tell me as I was worried about my kids and was anxious to be getting back to them. A lady I knew had kept them overnight and when I got there they were ready for me to take them home.
Oddly my transmission went out on my van on the way home from Ron’s and it took me quite a while to get to the kids while driving in second gear.
When I got home Jim called and asked me where the hell I had been. I promptly lied and told him I was nursing the van home all night as the transmission had gone out in Texas. I was amazed how easily that lie came out and how I did not even feel guilty about it. But it seemed to be true to me, I could not have been that other person who stayed with Ron.I didn't know her, did I? Why did I always feel so out of control? Of course he never believed me and I never argued the point.
So for New Years we moved to Texas…..
Trying to tell the story about this part of my life is very hard. It is hard in that it is so confusing and I am still not sure of all the facts. But I will try and tell what I can remember and what I know.
Jim never did really move into the trailer with us. He had a few things there but most of his stuff I assumed was at his parents where I assumed he was staying. It was probably about September of that year when we moved back to Swink. I got the kids back into school and since we had lived there before, they knew several kids so at least it was not a total trauma for them. But they were not thrilled to have left Texas anymore then I was.
The trailer was so filthy it took a while to clean and then to my horror I realized it was infested with cock roaches. I found an exterminator right away to deal with that problem. I did not notice anything odd right away probably because I was so busy trying to settle in. I have a thing about making sure all the pictures and curtains are hung and all the boxes unpacked before I can take a breath. That has always been my way of trying to make a ‘normal’ as possible home for my children.
I am pretty sure that Jim was paid very handsomely to bring us back to Oklahoma. I am sure he was given trigger words to make me go as well. I am sure he was an easy sellout as he was always trying to find ways to make money without any effort. I am also sure he had no problem handing over his wife and her children as he had no heart and cared so little about anything.
I also noticed how very differently he acted toward my kids. Not that he was ever the greatest steppe dad, but now he was downright mean a lot of the time to my kids. We fought about that a lot as well. His violence toward me grew and it was not uncommon for us to be having a knock down drag out on the front lawn, with me trying to get away, or fight or whatever and him on my heals slinging me to the ground. My poor little ones were not enjoying this at all. Neither was I. I was trying to figure out how I got into this mess and how I could get out of it with no idea about either one.
I was really not close enough to any of my family to ask for help and in any case I was not sure who I could trust, or if I could trust anyone on this planet.
The good part of all of this is that Jim did not come around a whole lot to mess with us. He was gone a lot as usual and that was OK with me. At least I thought he was gone, maybe he was just hanging around the side lines waiting to devour like a vulture.
Where to go with this? Lets see, I remember having more blackouts and doing the getting in the car when the kids were off to school thing and pulling into the driveway before they got home not knowing where I had been or what I had done. I remember getting phone calls from people I did not know and feeling confused after I got off the phone.
The weather was getting cold and since we had a wood stove I had to get up at night and make sure it stayed stoked and full of wood. One night I remember waking up with a weird feeling and I sat up straight out of a sound sleep. Since I was awake I got up and went into the living room to check the stove. I had to walk through the dining room where my two youngest were asleep as I had made the dining room up as an extra bedroom for them. I took care of the fire and checked on the kids and went back to bed. I did notice the dog barking out back as I went back into my room.
The next morning my youngest daughter asked me who the man was that had been standing in my doorway. I was confused by her question so I asked her what she was talking about. She told me that she woke up and saw a man standing in my doorway and he scared her. The she said he stepped into the kitchen and I got up and went to the stove and stuff and after I went back to bed she did not see him again, however she did admit she had her head covered after that as she was so scared. All I could figure out was that when I woke up feeling weird it might have been because I sensed that person standing in the door and when I sat up, he stepped back into the kitchen. I then probably passed him as I went to the living room….. Creepy…. And while I was making noise with the stove he slipped out the back door where he probably came in at, thus the dog barking.
When I checked the back door it was unlocked and not shut very well, as it had to be slammed to latch right. Now I really felt creepy and very much afraid, so much for sleeping well anymore, not that I ever slept very well in any case.
So that is when I, the front Judy started wondering what was going on and I got scared.
Who was in my house watching me sleep and why? I could think of no reason that was good. I started sleeping with a gun by my bed.
I helped with the fall festival at the school and drove around getting donations with a lady who lived in the town. I remember her taking me to strange places and telling me stuff about the locals that I thought was unusual. I mean it seemed as if this was a town of secrets and nothing was as it seemed on the surface. It was like darkness was over the whole area with serious black undertones.
I also had a run in with my oldest son’s teacher during that time. He was always a happy kid and did well at school but for some reason this teacher had issues with him and I was sick of the way she treated him. So I went to the school an took matters in my own hands. After I was through she had a different attitude and let up on my son.
I was also having some odd things happen with the principle. He called me at home and when he did I ended up blacking out. I have memories of meeting him at a lake nearby several times giving him packages. I do not know why or what was in them. But I will go more into the principle thing later.
That was an odd winter. I managed to get the kids Christmas and we decorated a tree. I took them to look at lights and I think we might have spent Christmas alone I am not sure. I do not even remember Thanksgiving that year at all. All I know is when it snowed I could hear someone outside the trailer at night walking through the snow making a crunching noise from their weight. I also noticed things being moved in my room and hid or just plain missing. I wondered if it might be the kids, but when I asked them they just looked at me like I was being weird. I was starting to really believe I was nuts myself. I mean I knew I had blackouts and I knew I had a lot of missing time, but I did not remember things always being moved or gone in my bedroom.
I would check the backdoor at night only to find it unlocked in the morning, so I finally talked Jim into fashioning a latch on the inside for me. I don’t think I told him about my unknown visitor, but I could have. In any case I knew it was not him as he was on the road driving a truck short term for someone and was not even in the state at that time. But who knows maybe he was jacking with me. My young daughter did not recognize him if it was him, but it was dark.
I got through Christmas and the New Year however, but after the first of the year things started ramping up.
I have been having a bit of trouble in writing this segment as I feel like I am getting confused. I did manage to find an old journal that one of my alters wrote and it did shed a bit of insight on a few things. I am going to insert some of the journal in brackets and it will be pretty noticeable the present me did not write it. Also the principle is referred to as Mr.C. He is a very important character in the story.
Here is an entry about the Halloween Carnival and I changed all the names in this entry.
( I worked on the Halloween Carnival for the school the end of Oct. Reba helped me get donations for the country store. She took me to some strange places. The Moody’s was one. They lived on a big spread with a six or eight foot fence around it and barbwire on the top. At the entrance was a guard shack. Mrs.Moody met us at the gate, did not invite us in but promised us donations. She was weird. Reba said that nobody knew where they came from. They did not work and always carried guns. Their girls were crack shots. I knew they drove new cars and dressed real nice, that stood out around here. They had a swimming pool, tennis court and stuff but I just assumed they were either ass in debt or else had real rich parents somewhere. I really didn’t care. Anyhow I never spoke to the woman again until one week before the trailer burned almost ten months later.
Reba also took me past and entrance to a ranch on the Red River called “fight in Seven” she wanted to go in but I wouldn’t let her. It was real isolated and I just didn’t feel right about it. She also informed me that the Donald boy came missing on that road never to be found. I already knew that, I read the newspaper clipping. The Donald’s boy older brother now lived on down that same road, it was said he came there to find who ever got his brother. Frankly I never believed that, the older brother was creepy acting and he already burned two of his houses and would later burn his new house. He was supposed to be working in another state 800 miles away but if he did he had a hell of a gas bill running back and forth. I was always seeing him around Swink, Ft. Towson, and Hugo. When he looked at me I always felt like his eyes would burn holes in me. He gave me the creeps. Anyway that is how our carnival trips went.
Mr.C the schools principle was very kind to us at this time. The kids got to eat free at the carnival and he always took me aside to see if we were all right or needed anything. He even said he could help me find odd jobs with the local people. He asked if I’d do anything. For some reason I said ‘anything honest’. He laughed and said ‘sure, sure that is what I meant’.
It is hard to explain about Mr.C. There were times I trusted him, times I didn’t. Sometimes he seemed to really care; sometimes I felt he was laughing at me. I asked his advice about some things and other times ran like hell from him. He made me laugh and scared the hell out of me too. He would talk in circles with me and to be honest he was way out of my league. There were times I trusted him too far. I think sometimes he wanted to possess me and the crush me. But somewhere towards the end he must have thought the better of it. Maybe he felt guilty? Hell I don’t know but I do know he had a way with people. He could work um good and be a bastard while he was doing it. To watch him in action was amazing. He told me once ‘I am not what or who people thin k I am, I’m a front, a fake. Judy never trust a man, any man. If you remember that you will be ok. But if you work them right you can have then eating out of your hand’ I never really understood what he meant, maybe I am dunce or something. He also once said ‘Judy if you play your cards right you could have anything’ I told him I was no good at cards or any games or any games when it came to people. )
That was all in that entry I will add more later about Mr.C, but I want to add here that Mr. C was old enough to be my dad and he also was from my past. It seems he was a friend of my dad’s and he even told my oldest daughter that I used to sit on his lap when I was a little girl. No wonder I had issues with this man. A lot of what was written in that entry I do not remember but I thought it was important to try and write it like my alter did so the differences could be noted for when I add later entries.
Sometime after the first of the year my middle son had some problems at school. I have never been able to find out just what happened but he spent a few days in the hospital because of it. Then I found out he had a hereditary problem that needed to be fixed surgically so that kept me pretty busy.
(He got hurt at school, went to the hospital for five days. Nobody knows why or who. Mr.C says he will pay the emergency bill if I say he fell on the playground. I did, he did. Mr,C says he will find out who did it. He says he will keep extra watch on the children.)
But as soon as I got him well I started going to the school and watching my kids more and asking a lot of questions. I was having a nagging feeling inside that something was not right there but I could put my finger on it. The best I could do was make a lot of unexpected appearances and pray things were OK.
I also volunteered for every field trip I could during that time.
I am not real sure how I was making it back then financially. I remember going to several job interviews, at least I stood by myself as I watched me being interviewed. I was getting a small welfare check each month, but that was not a lot. I remember doing some painting jobs for locals and later working at the school. I guess I was at the school so much they decided to hire me for odd jobs or something like that but other then that plus food stamps that is all I remember having. Jim was not giving me any money and I was not getting child support either. How could I in reality hold down a serious job? I could not even count on the fact that I would be me a whole day and know what was going on. I still have serious issues about being on welfare and having to use food stamps. I guess because back then it made me feel like a failure somehow. I know in my head that I did the best I could in the situation I was in, but I do not think most of us who are in or have been in the ‘system’ really feel real good about it. The ‘system’ has a way of making a person feel substandard and not quite human. Sometimes I think the social workers even take classes in how to make you feel like a subhuman. I did have a few compassionate social workers but not many. But let’s not go there.
I have thought a lot about how I felt back then and one thing that stands out to me was how out of control my life was and how much I felt out of control. I think control is probably a lot of illusion on this planet at best, however in saying that I think we all have a choice about who we give that control to. No one has 100 % control over their life on this planet no matter what they may think in any case.
During that time I was desperate to find some kind of answers. I remember sometime either at the end of winter or beginning of spring getting desperate enough to look up a minister of sorts. This man was considered to be a much anointed evangelist. That should have tipped me off…ha! Anyway back then I still had illusions that I was the bad, sinner who was messed up and ‘they’ had a hot line to heaven. Anyway this man was from the days when I was still going to the so called ‘word’ churches. He was supposedly very gifted in prophecy and discernment and helped a lot of people. So, I looked him up and showed up on his door step one day, his wife answered the door and I asked to speak to her husband. She asked me the usual questions, my name what I needed to talk to him about and if she might help me. Truthfully I do not have a clue what I said to her but I was so desperate for help I probably acted like a nut case to her. Anyway she ended up getting her husband and we all sat down in the living room. I had seen this guy in church services go up to people and give them a so called ‘word’ from the Lord so I just sat there waiting for the Lord to speak through him. Since I had not been having much luck in speaking to GOD I figured this might be my best bet for communication.
Who knows how long we sat there but after a while I realized this guy did not know jack. Either I was so hopeless GOD did not have anything to tell me or this man was a fake because he sure did not seem to know how desperate I was and so much for his discernment gifts. I think I finally just got up and they walked me to the door probably is relief. They did not even bother to pray for me or with me and that really bothered me the most about the whole thing. I mean if this guy was so concerned about peoples souls and stuff shouldn't he have at least offered to pray with me? I was more depressed then ever and equally confused.
Here I was living in an insane place where I was pretty sure my kids and I were in danger, I was having blackouts and I was so nerved out and scared I could not hope to think straight. I felt this was my last good hope for any kind of help.
During that time I remember crying out to GOD a lot. I read my bible hoping to find something to show me the way out of this mess my life was in but it just seemed to all be a dead end. Did GOD care? I often wondered….. Was He real? Was He there?
I had no clue how to find the answers or who to ask or who to even trust.
I started losing weight during this time as I was a nervous wreak and spent virtually no time sleeping. I was so scared I sat up almost all night with a gun in my lap watching out the window for would be intruders who might get my kids.
Now with that picture in mind I will continue with this crazy story so my fear will make a lot more sense.
Here is an excerpt from my alters journal about that time…
(Where to begin in the sixty thousand dollar question... Do I begin when I knew the house was being watched, or when the donkey that lived behind us only brayed at people in the alley and that was most nights? Do I start when our dogs would disappear for three or four days until I’d go into the local store and threaten to shoot someone if my dogs didn’t come back and they would be back home inside an hour every time? Do I begin when I stayed up night after night watching flash lights going off and on all around our house or when I discovered a laser scope from a gun aimed at my head when I went out to check on the dogs? Do I begin where I started seeing out of state limousines, cars and trucks come in and out of town and driving in front of our trailer at times? What about the guy named Gary who followed me almost everywhere I went? What about the time I went into the store and told them I was going to pay a visit at the little pool hall by the feed store and they closed it down that day? Oh yeah, I can not forget about all the fires happening all around us. I lost count of all the houses that burned down that year. What about the silver and red van that followed me and when I got a look at the man driving he scared the hell out of me. He had eyes colder then ice.
Then Mr.C takes me to Raymond Gary lake and asks me about the flashlights at night, the prowlers and seems concerned even though I am wondering how he even knew. Then he tells me he wants to go to bed with me and he will protect me and the kids. He scares me and I’m confused. The he says something about me ending up at the bottom of Raymond Gary Lake. What did I miss? He said more but I can’t remember. I just don’t know.
Then someone calls on the phone and wants me to deal drugs. Threatens the kids and I don’t know who. Reba takes me to the lab at the fight n seven and the computer is at Moyer and the money is underground… where, where? Oh GOD, I can not remember….
I call the F.B.I in Okla. City. I talk to the narcotics division. No Help… Give them all the names… No Help! I get a phone call…. You’re dead Judy!
A trailer on the opposite corner burns, a man and his little boy almost do not make it. So I sit at night with a gun in our lap. Can’t sleep, can’t sleep or they will burn us down and kill the kids.)
I hope that by my writing this story about my life, someone out there is reading it and realizing that if I can get through my life and survive and have hope then they can as well. I mean I am for sure not one of those perfect people who had a wonderful life and everything I touched turned to gold, or at least bloomed and smelled like roses. For sure anyone who has read this blog has already figured that out. I made a lot of mistakes even the part of me that was conscious on the surface. I may not have had all the facts about what was being done to me or how I was being used but none the less I am still responsible for the decisions I made. If the decisions were good or bad is not the point, the point is I made a lot of decisions that affected my children and the course of our lives.
But all of us make decisions in our lives that affect others and I do not think any of us really have all of the information to always make the best decisions. We screw up, we get some right, we do OK and everything in between. Forgiving ourselves is a huge part of healing. I have been able in most cases to forgive all the perpetrators in my life,’ I am still working on a few’ however; being able to forgive myself has been a huge hurdle to overcome. I think I am harder on me then anyone could ever be, but in the last few years I think I am starting to understand that not forgiving me is the thing that will keep me from healing.
When I write about the things that happened to my children and how I did not or could not protect them that guilt is compounded. As a mom the one thing I never wanted to do was allow my kids to be hurt. I do not believe any of my alters wanted them hurt either. I think all of me tried to protect the children, but I believe in some cases it just was not possible. Then I have to remember that they will have to make decisions in their lives just as I have had too and they will have to learn and do the best they can as well. That is life no matter who your parents are or how you were raised. We are all responsible in the end for what we do and how we live and all the decisions we make in between.
Life is not fair and it never has been. We are not promised anything when we come into this world. If we manage to give and get a little love then we are way a head of the game. I firmly believe we get from this world what we put into it. And learning to give is far greater then getting and since we are all basically a selfish bunch that is not very easy for us.
I know several people who really believe they are selfless and giving, however what they do not see is that for everything they give they expect a lot in return. They can not give from their hearts with no motive except to just have the joy in giving. They always want to control in some way the people they give to and expect the people they give to, to conform to their ways and ideas. It is all about control but they only see control in others not in themselves.
This is not a condemnation however; it is just a basic observation in human nature. I do not think I have ever truly given in a total selfless way in my whole life. I have tried and I would like to believe I was different then most but alas…. Sigh…. I am a whole lot like the rest of humanity. I have given in a lot of ways but even I need a thank you or a pat on the back now and then. Even I sometimes give for selfish reasons.
I like to give and that is not a problem for me, it is just that sometimes I wish a thank you would not always be so important and my right hand really would not see what the left is doing.
I hope I am making some kind of sense in writing this as what I really am trying to say is that no matter what has happened to us and no matter what we have done it is not the end of it. It does not have to be all who we are. We always have the chance to change our course and make better decisions and go a better way. It is not easy but with God’s help and our determination we can eventually change the course our lives are on even if it is just in little ways. We can do this by choosing to forgive others and then ourselves. We can learn to give and not expect anything back but maybe just the satisfaction of making someone smile or lightening their load just a little. We can choose to be a better person and giving a bit of love to someone.
These are just a few ways, but there are a lot of ways to change our course and go a better direction.
Pray about it. I know that with God’s help we can always choose a better course or make the one we are on a whole lot better for not only ourselves but everyone we come in contact with.
OK, now I will get back to the story….
What I remember is that I was losing a lot of weight and having more blackouts. I do remember Jim coming to the house a few times to harass me and basically try and beat the crud out of me. I remember fighting him and kicking and at one point going for a gun to shoot him. He stopped me and threw me out in the yard beating me while his son stood over me and called me names I will not repeat. My oldest daughter took her brothers and sister and got them away, for which I am grateful.
I remember Mr.C always asking me into his office at school to talk to me to which I have no memory of what he said.
I remember all the houses burning down in the town and being so afraid for my kids that I was saving every cent I could to move us out of there and back to Texas.
I remember Mr.C offering me a job to paint at the school when it closed for summer. I took the job as I needed the money to move with.
I remember going to Texas and finding a rent house and putting up a deposit. I made plans with some people I went to church with back there to help me move.
I remember my dad starting to call the kids while I was at work and I was not happy about it. He promises them a bunch of stuff and acts like he cares about them. I do not buy it for a moment.
I remember at the end of July packing up the trunk of the car one night and making plans to get up very early to take the kids out of state to some friends from that church while I came back and finished packing and got us moved.
I remember Jim coming over that night and telling me what a horrible woman I was and that I was basically nothing but a legal prostitute to him and I was never a wife in his eyes. He then went on to tell me how horrible my kids were but I stopped him and told him to leave and never come back.
I remember trying to get a few hours of sleep that night, feeling uneasy, and after dosing probably not more then fifteen minutes waking up to the smell of smoke.
I remember screaming out to my kids, the fire lapping out of the laundry room into the kitchen up the ceiling.
I remember flashes of grabbing and pushing kids out of the house and shoving them into the car. Somehow I managed to grab my purse and keys because I had them and I drove to the next block to a friend’s house. I must have blacked out for a while because I do not remember much else.
Now I will copy what my alter wrote in her journal…. What she remembers….
(There are people sitting on the barn behind the empty house across the street every night. They are holding guns and when I come outside they point them at me. I know who the men are and they know, I know. I am trying to figure out how to get us out of this mess. Houses keep burning down in this town. I know the sheriff as well as most of the law is involved in this mess. Then Rabbit’s house burns down and I get a call ‘Judy your house and three others will burn’
Mr.C talks to me…. ‘Judy you are in danger, be careful!’
Our house is searched and I hear them climbing the roofs around me night after night with their boots hitting the tin.
We get people from our old church in Texas to move us and we are trying to get ready. Mr.C offers us a job at the school and we work real hard.
A woman I know comes to the school to see me but then all she says is ‘I heard you were working here and came to see you’ nothing else she just leaves, weird.
Dad starts calling while we are at work and taking to the kids. I am confused about that one but know he is up to no good
I get a phone call… Get out! You are being set up! Drug bust soon planted on you, they will take the kids and put you in jail until you sell out! Get out of town quick!
We pack the car to get the kids to Texas the next day but that night the trailer burns down and we barely make it out.
We are at Norma’s and everything is confusing. Is the house really burning down? I am shaking and the kids are sitting in her living room in complete shock. I don’t know what to say or how to act or feel.
Jim shows up and talks to us but I have no idea what he is saying. I hate him and want him to leave.
I don’t know anything until the next morning and someone gives me some clothes to wear and I drive to the school to get our check so I can drive the kids to Texas and get out of this place.
Mr .C says to me ‘you play card better then you will ever know, you played the right hand. Be careful and be happy’ he hugs me and has tears in his eyes. I don’t trust him, he is in this and I know he would kill me too.)
There were a few other things written in that journal as well I thought I would add here.
One of our cats had been strangled about four weeks before the fire. My food stamps were stolen two times from the post office prior to the fire. The smoke detectors in the house were new and they did not go off that night. Our bird had been let out of the cage a few days before the fire and we never found him.
Also one night in the early spring I went out to see what the dogs were barking about and when I went behind the empty house next door I walked right in front of a man. I could see his silhouette when I turned and he was almost face to face with me. I probably came very close to a heart attack; I froze for a moment and then turned on my heels and ran like a wild woman. I was so scared I forgot the clothes line and almost hung myself on it.
My next clear memory is the next day after the fire. I was driving the kids back to Texas. We were all shell shocked and quiet and I remember thinking that just maybe all that hell was finally behind us. I also remember thinking how grateful I was that we were all alive and together. Crossing the Red River and leaving Oklahoma was one of the greatest feelings I have ever had.
I know I left out a lot in this part of my story however, I think anyone reading this will get the point of how terrifying it was back then and how miraculous is was we ever got out.
Here I am again thinking about how things were back then and trying to make a bit of sense out of it all.
I still do not know all of what happened to my children during the time in Swink however; I have a pretty good idea and it is not good. The scars are still seen and felt to this day in all of my children.
I pray they all know how much I love them and how much I tried to protect them back then even if it was pathetic at best. I guess as parents we do the best we can and pray that will be enough to help them survive and grow as decent adults. I have asked them for forgiveness and taken responsibility for my failures and mistakes, that is all I can do at this point. That is all any parent can do.
Another thing that is interesting from back then is that Mr.C was a part of my life as a child. He did actually tell my oldest daughter how I used to sit on his lap as a child and how he was a friend of my dad’s. I do have memories of sitting on his lap when I was about five, but I did not get those memories until after we left Okla. almost six months later. I was very confused by those memories at the time and wondered why I had not remembered much sooner. Since I did not know about my background at that time it makes sense I would not understand then.
Also after we got back from Okla. Mr.C did call me and check up on us. I still do not remember much about those calls. I suspect he was just another handler. Looking back to Swink I really think we were set up there and I was used extensively to run guns, drugs, or whatever they needed me to. I hate to think I was so much in their control and that even by my best efforts was not able to break away like I had thought I had back then. I hate to think about what they were doing to my children and how I could not protect us. It is such a feeling of pain and failure, like I was weak and compliant or something. But in saying that I am starting to realize how strong the programming really was/is and how even though a lot of us survivors have and are trying to get out and break away, it is not an easy thing. I think the thing is we have to try and keep trying and not look at the failures of that trying, but look at the fact that we are trying at all. I know that is a mouth full but I pray it makes sense to you survivors out there who are trying to get out and break away.
Do we ever completely break away from that programming? Well if I am honest I do not think so, at least as long as we live on this planet. But then everyone on this planet is programmed in some way and none of us who are alive and breathing have attained perfect knowledge and freedom from the sin that rules this planet.
The only hope I believe any of us have is in our faith, and the only faith I have found any consistency in is in my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. It is through Him that I have found any forgiveness and compassion and hope for a better eternity. It is through Him that I believe I am even alive and able to write this story. It is because of Him that I even believe there is a plan for my life and for yours and that any of this life will make any sense in the end.
So now I will get back to Swink… I think Swink was one of many horrible areas that was and probably still is being used and set up for ‘their’ agendas. I mean I have heard of a lot of lawless, creepy little towns where the people are victims and the ‘law’ is all corrupt and doing things that break the law instead of uphold it. I do think the fires were set as a way of control and to instill fear to keep the people there silent and compliant.
See how easy marshal law will work? I hear people all the time on the radio saying how the people in this country will stand up to marshal law and fight….don’t count on it. When people are afraid, they will turn in their grandpa and not think a lot about it. They are doing it now, so don’t kid yourself. This is not a great country with strong people; this is just a country with regular people like anywhere else on the planet who will cave in when faced with threats of pain and terror. I am not trying to be harsh or judgmental, but history really does have a way of repeating itself and this has been proven over and over again. Why else would the government be promoting a war on terror? They know how people basically are and what kind of control works on groups of people and the American people are probably the biggest mind - controlled and easily manipulated population on the planet.
Now I guess I will stop with that one today and save the rest of my views for another time……
It seems that ever since I wrote what I can remember down about Swink I am starting to remember other things about that time…. And none of them are good.
Like when we lived in the ‘Haunted house’ and all the guns were in the garage and things like that and how I might have been connected. The Choctaw Chief stuff and how I was involved a lot with tribal stuff even when I was still married to Rick, so the odds of being in Hollis Roberts(the tribal chief during that time) house is slim to none a coincidence. I am also sure the connection to Mr.C from my childhood and my dad was all part of whatever ‘they’ were doing at the time to control me and use me and my kids. I am also sure the way we were terrorized in that town was also a part of the control and programming to do as we were told and stay in line. It all adds up as well as other things I am not going to talk about at this time. So, when we got to Texas it is no wonder things did not really stop for us there.
A lot of people helped us start over again and I will always be very appreciative to them. However, we had to move almost as soon as we got settled in Texas because the place I found had a crazy landlady who was snooping in our house and bothering my kids while I was working.
The second house we found was an old Victorian and the kids and I loved it. It did not have much of a yard but it was close to the sheriff’s office and that kind of made us feel a bit better. I really do not know why, but I guess it was better then nothing and I had no reason to fear the police in that town.
I was working three jobs then, not big ones by any means. I worked at the camp doing whatever was needed, I had a small paper route and I was cleaning a house for a lady. My car’s engine had been sanded prior to leaving Oklahoma, so I was having some trouble with that. I had the engine flushed but that was only a temporary fix. Not a good thing at all, as I knew I could not afford another engine or a car, rent and utilities were eating me up as it was.
The kids were doing fair considering what they had been through, but I think they were just glad to be out of Okla. My oldest daughter was having the hardest time and since I was a major basket case myself I was at a loss as to how to help her. She was just barely a teenager and with all she had been through she was having some major anger issues. Not that I could blame her. Over all I would have to say we were all shell shocked and trying to hang onto any thing at all that might be considered normal. Not that we had a plum line for normal.
As soon as we got settled in the Victorian my dad called. He wanted us to move up to a little town near Tulsa. He told me he would see that I had a good income for the kids, a nice house and a good car if I would let him come move me.
I freaked out and told him thanks but no thanks I would stay where I was with the kids. Now remember I had no memories of my abuse or anything else at this point, but my alters knew and they were not going to let me take the kids anywhere where my dad was. Thank the Lord for my protecting alters. However, he would not let up. He even got my mom to start calling and put pressure on me and I guess on the surface it did look like a very good offer. Here I was a single woman with no education and five children to take care of barely making it at all and to top it off had just been through a devastating fire, being offered a way out and serious help. Well in a prefect world that might be so, but I had never been in a perfect world. My older sister even called me and tried to convince me to let my dad come get us. I am not sure how I managed to ward them all off but I did and with that I made all of them mad at me. My dad even told me he would never offer to help me again if I did not do this and I did not hear from him again for years after that. My mom was mad for quite a while and let me know it every time she called. My sister left me alone as she figured it was my life, I guess.
Not long after the drama with my dad I started getting strange phone calls. A lot of them were threats and some were just harassment. I was so tired of all of this but I really could not do anything about it. I was being followed when I did my paper route and I was getting discouraged.
I was going back to the Baptist church I went to before I left Texas, mainly because a lot of people there had helped me so much but some of the men in that church started hitting on me because I was single and I guess they thought it was OK to grab my butt or whatever when their wives were not looking. I did not like it and I soon grew so disgusted with the sexual harassment at the church I quit going except to take the kids. Most of the men who bothered me were older and in the Masons, go figure?
I felt as if I was walking in a fog most of the time and I just had no idea what to do with my life, or how to make things OK for the kids. I wondered if my life was always going to be some kind of sick drama and I craved calm and peace not even knowing if such a thing existed.
A few months after the fire and into the fall I met a nice guy named Kevin and we became friends. It was not a love connection between us as Kevin was not the typical friend. I met him one day while I was trying to sell adds for the newspaper I was delivering. Anyway we just started talking and that was that. Kevin had just gotten out of a relationship and since I was still technically married, but separated we both had a lot on common with crazy relationships. I guess I am hemming around a bit of this one but Kevin is a hard subject. Anyway Kevin was gay. He did not want to be gay however and it really bothered him a lot. He had come from a background that was probably as bad as mine, but back then since I did not know my background I could not know that we had so much more in common. But because of all the abuse he had as a child he was more or less very mixed up about his sexuality. Anyway a lot of people at the church thought we were lovers and got mad and I basically got blackballed by a lot of people at the church. I never bothered to tell anyone Kevin was gay. I felt it was no ones business and Kevin did not want anyone to know.
Kevin turned out to be a real God Send for me during that time. He deflected a lot of the phone harassment I was getting and my kids really liked him. All except my oldest daughter she did not like anyone at that time for good reasons. He got them through a really hard time and was a good friend to them as well.
Then my car bit the dust and since I had a note on it from a bank in Okla. and Jim signed the note, the bank wanted Jim to have the car. So I said come and get it. I could not afford to fix it. Jim came and got it one day while I was at work, so I did not have to see him which was how I planned it out.
I also had a guy from the church wanting to date me, but he was real weird. I am thinking now that maybe he was working in a way for ‘them’ as he was in the military and wanted to get my older boys involved in some kind of military stuff. I said no, to both him and his military stuff but this guy kind of did not take no for an answer and was always showing up at my house. He would bring food and leave envelopes with money in them and stuff like that. The kids really did not like him as they thought he was weird also. I met another guy during this time that was weird… I seem to attract weird. Anyway he was very controlling and I managed to black out a lot when I was with him. So now I figure he was a plant and maybe both he and the weird church guy were sent to keep an eye on my kids and me.
The first guy offered to pay for my divorce and when I had problems with my teeth he even paid for the dentist. Looking back I know I was wrong for letting this guy give me money because no matter what his motives were mine were wrong, I was using him. The second guy was using me so I guess what goes around came around for me. All I have to say for myself is, man I was screwed up and I am not proud of anything I did back then.
I know I was trying to take care of my kids and I know I was switching personalities who probably were not helping in making good decisions but that were how it was, no way to sugar coat it.
The two set up guys hated Kevin and wanted him out of the way, but I hung onto Kevin like a life preserver. I guess because I felt safe with him. But other things were getting much worse for the kids and I so Kevin moved in and took the couch and shared the rent. It was a pretty good arrangement but I kind of got asked to leave the church for it. I was relieved to go and was not upset. I was sick of the fakes and lies there anyway. I was feeling rebellious as well.
Since I lost my car, I lost my paper job, but I still had the camp job and the house cleaning job. Kevin only had a motor cycle but we decided to go in together and buy a little cheap car.
I went to butcher school and learned how to be a butcher… now that is a story in itself but suffice to say I had a serious butcher alter who went to the plant to train but I never was able to get a butcher job after that. Seems the butcher personality was a natural and I blacked out so she could do her thing. But she would not come out after that for me to get a job and I sure as heck did not want to be a butcher. Such is my life as a multiple.
Then I got on HUD to help with my rent and Kevin moved out. The other two guys kept tabs on me and almost had a party when Kevin moved out. The military guy bought me a used car which I excepted since I was so desperate. I let Kevin take the car we bought together when he left. The other guy hired me to clean his house one day a week, so I had a little more income to help out as well. What a crazy mess I was in. Kevin decided he wanted to be straight and wanted a family and since I already had one he thought we ought to get married. I pointed out that my divorce was not a done deal and besides I did not love him like that and I did not think I needed to be married to anyone. I do not think he loved me like that either but he did love the kids and the illusion of family. The ending was horrible and to this day haunts me just like Eddie’s ending did.
I think ‘they’ were seriously messing with Kevin’s head and that still bothers me. I think we were both used and manipulated and because ‘they’ have no heart or conscious ‘they’ do not care who gets hurt or what happens to the people ‘they’ manipulate. I also think the second guy had something to do with what happened to Kevin.
The last time I saw Kevin the second guy was standing outside my house with me, and we were talking. Kevin drove by and went nuts and he almost ran that guy down. He called the police on Kevin but I really did not want him too. I told him Kevin was just upset and would get over it but I had a bad feeling something was not right.
That guy left and the next thing I remember was the next night. Two police came to my door and asked for me and the asked me if I knew Kevin. I told them yes and then one of the police told me Kevin had killed himself. I remember almost passing out, I slumped into the door. The officers helped me into the house and sat me in a chair. My kids were in the next room and I do not remember who told them about Kevin or what happened. The next thing I remember is the officers asked me for a number for Kevin’s next of kin and I gave him, his sister’s number in another state.
It was a nightmare….after all we had been through only eight months before with the fire, now we were dealing with a suicide of someone we loved and cared for. What a life I had...
There were a lot of strange things about Kevin’s suicide and to this day I am not really sure of the truth.
He was found hung by the neck from a basketball goal in the gym at the camp where I worked. I also learned later that he cut his wrists as well. I don’t know, but for some reason it all sounded odd to me. Maybe it was just because I was so much in shock, but in thinking back about it and remembering what he had told me about his background, then knowing what was in mine, well I wonder. I did find a lot of notes after his death hidden in my house that he had written. Most of them were about all the pain he was in and how he did not want to lose me and the kids. There were other notes as well but I do not remember what they said anymore. All I know is that someone was messing with his head and I did see a lot of personality changes prior to his death. Did Kevin commit suicide? I will probably never know this side of my own death.
I know I got blamed for his death by a lot of people and I really did not care. I kept his secret about being gay and just let everyone think we had been lovers and I was broke his heart. For some reason that seemed much easier. His body was shipped off to Dallas for an autopsy and then onto Illinois to his sisters. We never even got to say goodbye or have any closure, but maybe that was for the best. I remember thinking that I was toxic, Eddie and then Kevin. I blamed myself.
After Kevin’s death I think I kind of went over the edge in a way. I started smoking pot again, something I had not done since high school. I had a lot of blackouts but I do know I made a couple of runs out of state with the second guy. He was the one who gave me the pot. I am not exactly sure what we did when we went out of state and at this point I do not care anymore.
I managed to work my way through summer and in the fall I started college. Believe it or not my first major was Criminal Justice. Go figure? Anyway I got my GED and started school. I met a nice girl in one of my writing classes and she in turn decided to set me up with her brother. That was a huge turning point in my life and one I will always be thankful for…
I have a birthday tomorrow….. anyway I shall be a big fifty-one.
The only reason I bring this up is because today I felt like writing about birthdays and how they have been for me. I thought some of you survivors out there would understand this a bit and the rest of you might understand how it is for us survivors.
So, what can I say about birthdays? Well for one thing they have always been a challenge for me. When I was a child, birthdays were usually milestones in the programming with the ‘cult’, ‘Them’ or whomever you want to call um. The thing is whenever I had a birthday I always knew it was not going to be a good day. On the surface I may have gotten a present or two, or maybe a card from my grandmother before she died or an Aunt, but mostly all I remember is the fear and pain. Not that I remember a lot of specific memories or anything, it is more like I remember the fear and pain in a feeling without a picture. My body remembers that is for sure.
I do have a few flashes, like once getting a cake and then seeing a child’s hand held over the flames, burning in my honor, or a flash of The Dark Man raping me, while singing Happy Birthday to you…. or maybe being strapped in a chair being shocked while someone sang Happy Birthday. You know the average childhood memories…..well if you are a Monarch kid that is.
However, I have to say here is it not a miracle I even made it to fifty-one? A lot of the kids back then sure did not. A lot of them sold out and became just like the perps and did their own birthday rituals to other victims. I feel very blessed to not be a perp, and too have survived at all. Not only have I survived, I have become a better person then I think I would have been, had I not gone through as much as I have. Not that I am perfect and do not screw up but, I do not take any day I am alive for granted. I do not take my health for granted. I do not take a warm clean shower for granted. I do not take my husband and the few children who talk to me for granted. I do not take my grandchildren for granted. I do not take anything GOD had chosen to give to me while I am on this planet for granted as I know it can all be gone in an instant.
But most of all I do not take my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ for granted. I may have paid the price for the things others have chosen to do to me, but He paid the price for us all. And He did it knowing that the biggest part of humanity would reject Him.
So, I can honestly say….. HE CHOSE ME…… John 15:16, 15: 19
And I can honestly say HE WILL NOT LET ME FALL AWAY OR BE PLUCKED OUT OF HIS HAND…. John 10: 3-5, 10:27-29
The programmers were always saying I was chosen, just like they tell everyone they are programming, however their ‘chosen’ means pain and a lot of it and eventually death. Being Chosen by Christ Jesus means, Life and Life eternally…… and if you are not His, none of this is ever going to make a bit of sense.
So as I pass another milestone of another year on this planet, I know I am also in the beginning of my eternal life in and with Him….Jesus Christ, The WAY, the TRUTH and the LIFE….. HE really is the LIGHT of the world….
Praise GOD and Rejoice!
Love & Prayers,
To continue on…..
When I started college I was living in a fog. I know I went to school and managed my classes and did very well. I made a few friends and felt a little bit normal at times, but I was living a very double life.
The second guy was trying to control me and I was pulling away from him very quickly. The first guy was basically a nut case and I was trying to figure out how to get him to go away. When I looked in the mirror I did not recognize the person looking back at me and even thought that was a pretty common thing through out my life, for some reason it was scaring me now. I felt so out of control that I remember one afternoon as I was driving home from school I heard myself crying out to GOD, ‘Please Lord help me, I can not go on this way anymore and I hate the person I see in the mirror. I do not want to be like this anymore.’ I was sobbing before I even finished what I was saying. All I knew was that I was miserable, confused and tired. I was tired of always feeling out of control of my life and tired of never knowing what was going on. I hated myself and the person I had become and I wanted more for my kids then what I was.
A few weeks later I took my kids to a fall Halloween carnival at the college and while we were walking around looking at the different booths and the kids were doing their thing, I noticed a guy standing around watching me. Truthfully he creep ed me out at first as all I saw was a strange guy standing around smiling at me every where I seemed to go. I was not there to pick up a man that was for sure. Anyway after a while this guy finally got up enough nerve to come up to me and ask me if I was Judy. I hesitantly answered yes, to which he said’ I am Sandy’s brother, Tim’. OK, now I understood and I could right away see how much he looked like Sandy, so I knew he was telling me the truth. Sandy was the nice girl I met in class who said she had a brother she wanted me to meet. Evidently she had told Tim that my kids and I would be at the carnival if he wanted to meet me. She said I was easy to spot as I had red hair and all my kids had dark hair. I think she even told me he might be there to meet me, but I had forgotten.
Well the ice was broken so he kind of hung around with us while my kids continued to do their thing. They did not seem to mind as long as they could continue to have a good time. After the carnival I asked Tim if he would like to come over and eat frozen pizza with us as he was kind of acting like he was trying to get up the nerve to ask me out. Besides I really liked him, I mean just the few hours I was around him I felt relaxed and no one had made me feel that way in forever.
So he followed us home and ate frozen pizza and I watched as my boys acted silly and we all pretty much laughed and had a fun time.
Later as I was thinking about the afternoon and evening, I felt a kind of sadness inside. I mean I knew Tim was a really nice man, but I had no illusions that I was not such a nice woman. I had lived a crazy, weird life with so many missing pieces I felt like a defective puzzle. While he has been married once and had a little girl, I had been married twice and I still was not divorced from the second, although I had filed, besides the fact I had five very broken and hurt children. But then I figured I would probably not hear from him again so not to worry, but then I got to thinking again about my crazy life and how empty I felt inside and all of the icky-ness inside of me just seemed to rush over me like a tidal wave. I wanted to run from myself but I had no where to run and a person can not run from their self, they are always still there. What a mess I was.
Tim did come to see me at college a few times and eat lunch with me. I knew he wanted more but I felt as if I was going to tarnish him somehow. I really believed he was way too good for the likes of me. But he did get me to thinking very hard about the people in my life. I managed to get the second guy to run off the first and then I ran off the second guy. What a mile stone for me that was, I actually got rid of the rubbish that was controlling my life. I did the right thing. Tim was helping me to see that I was worth far more then those guys would ever give me or be to me. I had actually allowed myself to say no. Wow what a feeling that was for me.
It was in December before I got the nerve to call Tim and see if he was still interested in a date. He had pretty much given up on me by that time, but I needed to get rid of the rubbish before I could let myself call him.
So the rest is history…. My divorce went through on a Friday and we were married the next Monday on December the 18Th 1989. Yep we are going to celebrate 19 years next week…..
But the story about those 19 years is a zinger so stay tuned…..
Well, I guess you could say we did not waste anytime when we got married and I really can not say why we married so quickly. We had to go out of state to get married as I could not legally marry instate for six months, so we loaded up all the kids and off we went.
When we got to Texarkana we went to the courthouse to be married by the justice of the peace. Anyway there was not a vacant room in the building and I thought we were going to married out in the hall, with all the kids standing around. But finally they found us an empty D.A.’s office and rushed us in there. You really need a sense of humor when you have that many kids, especially with three boys. I noticed my boys snickering as the J.P. was reciting his lines and as I looked to see what they were laughing about I saw a statue like plague on the desk. It had two golf balls on it and under the golf balls it said ‘you can tell a golfer by the size of his balls’…. OK, so now there was no way I was going to get those boys’s to be serious. I had to chuckle myself at the whole scene and I barely remember saying I do. But I did and so did Tim and then we were married kids and all and the J.P saying ‘that will be thirty dollars’. You would have thought he would have given us a discount with all those kids. HA!
My friend came with us and took the kids home with her so we could go out to lunch as the new Mr. and Mrs.…. so we went to the mall had our wedding day picture made with us sitting on Santa’s lap, ate lunch and drove home.
On the way home it started sleeting and I started crying. It just then occurred to me that I had no idea who this guy next to me was and I was wondering what I had done. Had I lost my mind? Had he lost his?
So driving in the sleet on a cold winter’s day, with a man I barely knew, and had just married, I sat crying and I am sure he felt like it his self at this point. But Tim is a trooper and patted my hand and told me it would be OK and kept on driving very slowly as the road was slick by that time and before we got home I was feeling much better. We still laugh about our wedding day.
But if we had any idea what lay ahead for us, I wonder if either one of us would have taken the plunge. Life has no guarantees however and neither does marriage, you just get what you get and learn to deal with it. In my case that was asking quite a lot....
I lay a wake last night trying to put some perspective to the memories I have of the first few months of our marriage. I was also trying to put things in kind of an order as well. I was surprised however to find that I am a little a miss on time frames and such, but it has been nineteen years ago. I think that the nightmares probably started very soon after we got married. I remember being very confused about them and several nights getting up out of bed and sitting by myself in the kitchen trying to understand what was happening to me.
One of the most vivid nightmares was one of seeing me drive a truck and run over me standing in a road, and then me again standing by my body lying out on the road.
Another nightmare I was having was of someone trying to kill me. I kept seeing dark shadows of people following me and a knowing I was running for my life. I was also having dreams of my dad and mom and a lot of money in their hands weirdly enough, however I felt like I was being sold in the dreams. I was having dreams of snakes chasing me and dreams of blood and dreams of giving birth and losing my baby.
I don’t really remember if I told Tim right off about the dreams but I think he sensed something was kind of weird anyway. He knew I was not sleeping very well in any case.
During this time I had started another semester of college and we moved into another house in a nearby town. I started taking an oil painting class that semester also and was excited about that. I had made a friend in collage named Brenda who was handicapped and in a wheelchair and ironically she and one other woman named Donna I met in art class are the only two women I ever made friends with and stayed friends with in my whole life. Brenda is especially important to me as she taught me a lot about myself as well as taught me about acceptance and unconditional friendship.
Sometime after we moved into our other house I started losing a little bit of time again. I would find myself pulling up the drive much later then I should have after my classes, with Tim and the kids wondering where I had been. I did not know so I would make something up to hide my confusion. Then one afternoon after I had met Tim for lunch I went to Wal-Mart and I remember standing by the books. I was kind of skimming the titles when I saw one that jumped out at me. It was something like ‘overcoming childhood sexual abuse’ I remember picking it up and then…. WHAM! I felt as if I had been hit in the stomach. The next thing I remember is trying to drive the car over a bridge and someone taking over the wheel and hearing voices inside of me screaming. Then I remember walking down a long hall of what I now know was a hospital. Then all goes blank again until I see Tim walking into a room where I was sitting and I felt total terror, not at him walking in but at the fact I did not know what was going on.
Now I do not have a lot of my memories about being in a psyche ward but I d have a few fragment memories from my alters so I will write about what I remember through them.
“She is whacked Mely, we have to keep her safe.” ‘I know, I know the whole damn system is going to come apart if she remembers” “We have kept her safe so far when she started to remember” “ Well Harmony, I don’t think we can keep her from knowing forever to many of the littles are getting upset.” “ Its because if her marrying Tim, isn’t it?” “I think so; I think he is the first safe person we have met” “I am so tired Mely.” “We all are sis, we all are.”
I am in a room in a psyche ward and I am trying to figure out why. Am I nuts? I keep hearing voices in my head calling each other Harmony and Mely and having a conversation. I am nuts?
I look in my closet and I have my clothes there, I guess Tim must have brought them to me, I really do not remember. I have a sketch book and some crayons as well. What am I suppose to do? I feel myself falling into emptiness and then I sort of float. Someone else is dressing me, feeding me, talking through my mouth. I do not have to do a thing, I don’t have to remember. What am I trying to forget? Tim, where are you? Where are my kids? I scream inside but nothing reaches my mouth. Am I real? Oh GOD what is happening to me?
“I will talk to the Doctor Mely, you stay close, OK?” “OK”
The doctor is sitting across from us and is taking notes. Judy this is not uncommon to start remembering at your age, thirties, and forties, some even in their fifties.
What is she talking about, sexual abuse? Who was sexually abused?
“The dad abused us when we were little” I watched as the doctor wrote more stuff down. I was trying to keep Judy safe but she kept popping in and overhearing. I was also trying to tip off the doctor that I was not Judy but so far she did not even seem to notice.
The doctor was saying stuff like how it was like stirring a pot of stew, and chunks of veggies and meat were popping up, some kind of analogy of how the memory works when it is triggered or something. She was still talking to Judy and I was trying to tell her that Judy was in serious trouble and I even told her I was not Judy but Harmony and she still didn’t seem to hear me. I finally said the heck with it and pushed Judy out since she wanted her so much.
You think I was sexually abused by my dad? I remember asking the doctor. How can that be? I know he was a crappy dad but sexual abuse? Those are memories I am having? The doctor seemed to think so, but I was not so sure. All I could think of was how upset my mom would be when she found out I was in the hospital and saying bad things about dad.
What kind of rotten daughter was I anyway? And where are those voices coming from? I will never get out of here if I tell them I have voices in my head.
So this is how my remembering and ultimate healing began…… Harmony and Melodie, or Mely we call her were the first two alters I ever met, but there were many more. They are all a part of me……
I asked Tim what he remembered about that time and this is what he told me. He said he was with me at wal-mart when I picked up that book and started looking at it. He also said I dropped him off at his work and then I told him later about the car almost going off a bridge. Anyway he said I called him from the hospital and told him what to pack and bring to me. I didn’t really tell him what was wrong but he knew I was having some kind of break down. I have no memory of him being at wal-mart with me or of how I got to the hospital or of calling him. I assume one of my alters or maybe several of them handled the whole situation when they knew I was in danger.
I was pretty upset to be in the hospital in the middle of a school semester. I did not want to get behind on my classes. I was also worried about my kids and how they were handling me being in the hospital and left with a new step-dad. I was also worried about my new husband and how he was going to handle five kids on his own. But most of all I was wondering what was happening to me.
The psyche ward was hit pretty hard with budget cuts so the biggest part of our therapy was playing cards with the other patients. I guess we saw the Doctor for a brief time every few days and I had a therapist I saw everyday. I do not remember being in therapy except one specific time there. I was talking to the therapist and I remember looking down at a light socket and when I saw a green dot on it I freaked out. The next thing I knew I was in a corner and I heard some other voice speaking though me crying out to not let ‘him’ hurt me and make the green go away. I think the therapist finally figured the green dots on the sockets were what was freaking me out, so as he was talking me down he started removing the dots.
I also remember doing some relaxation and visualisation exercises in the evening but I was not too excited about that. I always felt weird doing the visualisation stuff as my body always started separating inside, I didn’t realize I was dissociating.
The only other thing I really remember is going bowling while I was there. It was called recreational therapy and I loved it. I was a terrible bowler and still am but during that time I was starting to feel some pretty intense anger towards my dad with all the abuse memories popping up, so I imagined him being the bowling pins. When I slung that ball I was aiming at his head and I have to admit I scored pretty well, plus it helped let out some of my anger.
I think I was put on some anti-depressants while I was there and after a few weeks was sent home with a name of a counselor I was suppose to call. But the lid of my memories had been opened and they were not going to be contained anymore. The roller coaster ride had begun and I sure did not see any end in sight.
Flash backs, nightmares and panic attacks soon became my constant companions. I did manage to call my sister and tell her a bit about what was going on, but she really did not understand how our dad could have done such things to me, she thought we had a great family. Go figure? Talking to my mom was a whole different ball game. I do not remember much about that except worrying all the time that I was somehow going to hurt her and upset her and cause her pain. Never mind about mine, I was totally programmed to worry about her. I think I called the minister of the church in Tulsa during that time and confronted him about my abuse. I say I think I called because I am not sure if it was an alter and I listened in. Anyway he did admit he knew I was abused, but he told me I needed to put the past behind me and forget it. Screaming at him I said that was the problem, I had forgotten all these years and was just now dealing with the memories and trying to make sense out of them. I did not know at that time that he was a perpetrator as well.
One night one of my little alters came out and relived the rape from my dad in the basement when we were five. Poor Tim had to deal with a five year old hysterical child in his wife’s body and calm her down. My nightmares were getting so bad at night that I was fighting and hitting and kicking and Tim got the receiving end of that also. He was probably wondering what he had gotten into, but to his credit he hung in there and did his best.
Finding me help was a huge challenge, since we really did not know I was a multiple and even if we did, we still could not explain it to anyone. Tim says even then he could see the different people in me, but he did not understand what he was seeing.
I tried out a few counselors but they were all so limited in what they knew and none of them caught my dissociation. They were trying to work with me like any abuse survivor but I was not like, just any survivor.
Tim had been going to a church before we married and he even asked them for help but they would not even come to the hospital to pray for me much less help him out. I guess they were too busy being good ‘Christians’ to help a nut case, and boy I felt like a supreme nut case. Their rejection really hurt Tim, but I was used to it, I chalked it up to, that figures.
I managed to finish my classes for the semester and take care of the kids and Tim. My alters pitched in and did laundry, cooked and all the things that had to be done. All I wanted to do was go to bed and pull the sheet over my head, but with five kids that was never an option. I know I was moody, like a keg of dynamite always going off at anytime. I was hyper vigilant and jumped and screamed at the slightest thing.
My friend Brenda was great, she did not seem to mind having a crazy for a friend and she was probably the best sort of therapy for me. I would go places with her and help her with her wheelchair and stuff and I learned about how different, people treat people with handicaps. I guess we were both handicapped in our own ways and that is how our friendship formed. She never questioned my multiple personalities, and I did not mind her wheelchair. Guess we both had what we needed, to get to where we needed to go.
I want to write a little about Harmony and Melodie since they were the first two alters I got to know.
Harmony is a gentle soul and does not like to make waves. She tries to keep things at an even pace and level. I think Harmony was the one who actually said our wedding vows to Tim as she was crazy about him right off and knew that he was someone we could trust. She is the one who tried to get the first doctor to understand us and she is the one who finally got someone to listen. She is the one who I always count on to help me calm down when I am upset and reminds me how strong our system is.
Melodie is a fire ball. She is quick to lose her temper when she sees injustice and is a pure dare devil. She is fearless and always says just what she thinks. I can always count on her to stand up for us and for the under dog. She has a quirky sense of humor and is devoted to those she loves. She is a fighter and a very strong personality. She is the one who chuckled when Tim and I got married when she saw the golf balls.
Even though I am pretty much co-conscious now and a lot of my alters have integrated I still rely on Harmony and Melodie a lot. I feel very grateful to have them as part of my system as they seem more like sisters then alters.
So now on with the story….
We bought an old house and moved again the following September. I went back to school and tried to do the best I could in the condition I was in, but it was not long before a lot of cracks started showing and I began to sink. I felt my mind go into that black space that only a person who is in the throes of serious depression would understand. I have always had a hard time with the Fall season and even though I had gotten a lot of memories about my abuse with my dad I was no where near getting the ritual abuse stuff tapped into. So I did not understand the connection with fall and all the ritual stuff I had been a part of through out my life. All I knew was I was going into that pit and when I went there nothing and no one could reach me. I would try and make my family understand but all they saw and heard was my basic madness and that frightened them as much as the darkness frightened me.
Somehow Tim and I managed to find a therapist in Dallas; I do believe she was a GOD send. Anyway she was basically in training, but she agreed to interview me since I was into a serious meltdown and needed fast action. One of my alters were cutting me and I was very suicidal. I did not understand why however, because I really did not want to die, but the urge to kill myself was so strong I was terrified I would do it.
Anyway Harmony came out and introduced herself to Lela and told her we were in trouble and needed help fast. Lela fortunately had worked with this sort of thing and she knew what to do and did not bat an eye. She got us to a good Doctor quick, but since we did not have any money or insurance Doc Roberts agreed to see me with Lela sitting in as she was in training. I was kind of a training exercise for her. Doc Roberts was fixing to retire and I was basically one of his last patients.
Tim would get off work and drive me two hours at least once a week to see Lela and Doc Roberts. It was hard as we did not have a lot of money and he was paying child support and supporting my five kids on almost nothing. My ex Rick had not paid child support in years so we were not even getting any help that way. The house we bought was cheap, but it was old and needed a lot of work but with me being so unsettled at this point we could not do anything we really needed to the house.
I was still trying to stay in college but it was a struggle and Tim was always worried I would vanish and not come home. Life was not easy for any of us and times were just going to get harder, we just did not know how hard.
I do not remember a lot about working with Doc Roberts and Lela except they managed to get me to understand a little about being a multiple, something I fought for a very long time.
A lot of my little ones came out during that time also and man was that weird. Poor Tim never knew who he might be getting into bed with or who would wake him up in the night, his wife, a child alter? He was very good with the little’s though. He even bought them dolls and stuffed animals, crayons and color books. He held them when they cried and calmed them down when they were having flashbacks. Tim is probably the best therapist I have had. He had been there from the beginning and he probably knows more about what happened to me then I do. He sat through a lot of therapy sessions as well as handled this mess of a woman in all many situations I presented to him.
Anyway we could not keep up the Dallas thing for a long term solution, as it was just not financially feasible as well as a lot of other things. So my regular Doc. suggested I meet with a therapist he knew much closer to us. Well we talked to Doc Roberts and he got with this other therapist named Linda and I started working with her.
One huge problem was the money thing. We had no insurance and no extra money and it was obvious I needed some serious help so everyone put their heads together to try and come up with a solution. Finally I managed to get on SSI for a time and that helped a lot.
So then my therapy with Linda started in earnest and I was driving to Texarkana at least twice a week or meeting at my Doc. office which was closer at night and having sessions there. Tim came with me when we had the night sessions and set in.
It has occurred to me that I have left out a ton of stuff as well as probably gotten a lot of things maybe a bit out of order. I am not going to worry so much about order as I mainly just want to get the jest of the story right but I do want to add a few things I forgot at this time.
I have said that I was going to collage and majored in criminal justice, well into my second or third semester I changed over to an art major. I think that change was a huge help in my being able to work through a lot of issues. My art work reflected such. I also had alters taking classes of their own, so I pretty much did not have a clue about a lot of things going on in several of my classes. One alter was taking piano, one was in creative writing; one was way into art history etc, etc.
Sometime during this time I started taking a drawing class. I have to add here as I forgot to mention her before, I met Denise, who would later marry my cousin Tom, and this is when I met Donna as well. I met several other artsy people then who I became friends with but Denise and Donna have stayed in my life and kept in contact with me through out the years. Denise had been a huge blessing as she has always kept her faith in me and prayed for me. Donna and Denise have abuse issues of their own so that may be why we clicked as well as we did. Donna went on to become a very gifted teacher for children with special needs, and Denise has worked diligently for ‘Compassion’ for several years. Both are gifted and talented artists and have huge hearts I love them both a lot.
This particular drawing class where I met Donna and Denise was a very hard one for me. In all of my programming I had one major problem and that was with being able to see detail. To this day I have a huge problem with seeing detail and trying to describe what someone looks like. I am not good at all in doing any kind of realism in my artwork because of this. Anyway in this class we had a wonderful teacher I called Ms Ollie. She was relentless to push us beyond what we thought we could do, and having to really learn to see and look at detail was excruciating painful for me. I do not think anyone in my class had any idea how hard this was for me to do, but I pushed on and was able to draw some very good pieces during that time.
One of the hardest assignments was a self portrait. In truth I think this assignment was hard for a lot of us. Having to really look at myself in a mirror was not a thing I liked to do under any circumstances but that was the assignment so I pushed on. Denise had a huge problem with this as well, so she gave me the courage to push on by watching her struggle though it. Another problem I had with this assignment was seeing ‘me’ in the mirror. I mostly never recognized myself in a mirror so for the first time in my life I had to really look and see what I looked like.
I was also taking an oil painting class and one of the first paintings I did was a huge lock on a flimsy door. I think that was a very revealing thing in itself.
So here I was going to school, taking care of a family and going to therapy, all hard jobs in themselves, but especially hard when a person is fighting major depression, suicidal thoughts and flashbacks as well as dissociation. Only the Good Lord kept me from totally breaking down.
Then on top of all of this I had a insatiable need to talk about abuse issues to whomever would listen. I think it was my way of trying to make sense of everything and really believing it happened at all. I think that is pretty normal however, as I have noticed that when a lot of people are in the beginning of dealing with abuse issues they just want to talk and talk about it, maybe because they had to be quiet about it for so long. Talking is a way to validate ourselves and heal. I think that is a very important part of healing. I know that ever since I started doing interviews with Zeph Daniel about three or so years ago and then with a few others I have seen major steps in my healing. I will always be grateful for Zeph in taking a chance to have me on his show to give my testimony so long ago. I have been on his show a lot since then and I have grown very close to him and his precious wife Trish through the years. They have both been a huge blessing in my life. I have called Trish many times for prayer and she always comes through. Thanks a bunch my sister, and brother…..
Well anyway I am sure a lot of people got to hear way more than they cared to about my abuse…. especially in the beginning. So too those of you out there who are in the process of learning to deal with all of this, if you can find someone to listen, then talk, it is good for you. And for the people out there who have the job of listening, be patient. The survivors really need someone to listen and not make any judgments. That is why I gave a snail mail address. I figured there might be someone out there who needs someone to listen and writing might be a way they feel comfortable with. I am here to listen, and to pray for you and to validate you. I am not here to judge you.
I have to admit that during these years I was not a very good mom or wife. I had so many sexual issues it was not funny as well as anger and depression. I might be OK for a few days and then I would go into my craziness and throw things, cuss, scream and whatever and I am afraid my poor husband and kids got the brunt of it. I am not proud of who I was back then but I have too add that I really had no other way to deal except plow right on through, ugly and all. I had a lifetime of abuse to work through and a lot of alters who were angry, acting out as well. Healing is not pretty or nice; it is painful, ugly and hard. But in saying that I am here to say on this side of the line… it is well worth it and if I had it do again, I would do it all over again to get to where I am today.
During the beginning of my remembering the one thing I found the hardest to deal with was denial. I wanted to deny everything I remembered. I had to not only admit that the biggest part of what I thought was my life, was a lie, but I had to admit that my parents were not who I thought they were or needed to believe they were. It was much easier to believe I was crazy then to believe my parents betrayed me in the worst way.
I fought and screamed and cried my way through the process of dealing with my parent’s betrayal.
I also had a hard time believing in the satanic ritual memories. I did not want to believe that people are really that sick and that they would not only worship Satan, but kill for him. I did not want to believe that people were capable of doing the vilest things on the planet to other people. I did not want to believe that some of these people could possibly be related to me. I did not want to believe that I was forced to participate in these vile things as well as have them done to me. It was so much easier to just believe I was crazy and none of those horrible things I was remembering were true.
Sometime during the first months of therapy with Linda I left her office one afternoon in a not so good state of mind. I guess one of my alters came out and was very upset and then took over the driving. She had no idea where we were driving and I think she got lost. Another alter took over and managed to get us to the hospital where our doctor worked and sat us in the emergency room until someone could find him. I vaguely remember waking up in the emergency room sitting on a chair and crying. My next memory is sitting in the doctor’s office with my doctor and therapist and maybe my husband, I am not sure. I had abreacted a memory of a satanic ritual where a heart was being cut out of a person’s chest. All I remember is the sick feeling I had as I listened to this alter speak out of me, talking about how a heart is cut out of a chest. She knew stuff only a person who had done that sort of thing would know. My doctor was horrified and he even admitted that the average person would not know those things unless they had been there or done that kind of surgery.
Because the satanic ritual memories were starting to come much faster and harder I was getting more unstable a long with the memories. It was not long before I had to be hospitalized again just to have me put on suicide watch and stabilize me.
So this next hospital psyche ward stay was in Dallas at Baylor. I don’t remember a lot about the hospital stay except that several of my little alters were very upset to be away from Tim, and Melodie was not fond of the doctor there. Melodie had taken to wearing a black brimmed hat and the Doctor was trying to convince us we were obsessive compulsive because she would not take it off. No one really wanted to deal with D.I.D/M.P.D. there so they had to find an alternate label for us.
We also found it very disturbing that they were doing shock treatments on a lot of the patients there as well. Tim would not sign a release for them to do the shock treatments on me, thank God for that. However, we saw a lot of really scary things happen to the people who did get them.
Then they decided we needed alcohol counseling and made us to A.A. meetings at night while we were there. Go figure that one? We were not even drinking then, not any of the alters were drinking.
Then one night we had a visitor that none of us expected. The dark man came and paid us a visit. He was now a well known minister but we did not know that then.
He asked us how we were doing and told me that I needed to remember to forget and not take life so seriously.
He told me that no matter what happened to remember that he loved me.
Now, doesn’t that sound familiar?
Sorry Tim, they went a head in spite of what you said and what I said and did shock treatments on me…. Surprise, surprise…..imagine that?
I was in that hospital during the Waco fiasco, and I remember watching it on the TV with some of the other patients and thinking that we were not very far from where it was happening. I also felt very scared to be locked up. The whole world felt nuts, and maybe I really did need a drink? It was almost time for another AA meeting. What a life. Sigh….
After I got out of the Baylor Psyche ward my memories seemed to be ramping up. I was still trying to play catch up on my college classes as well take care of a family along with trying to make sense out of my memories and being a multiple. I felt weird all the time; I mean nothing was ever stable for any length of time. I was also put on meds and I had to deal with side effects also. I think the meds were probably the worst thing, but since I had no idea at that time about the effects I just trusted the doctors. I really didn’t know what else to do. Keeping me stable was the problem of the day as I did have a family to care for and I wanted a life. I refused to lie down and quit and I refused to be beat by all of this. Just getting up in the morning to do what I had to do was agony on some days. When I did have a good day I relished it with all that was in me. I prayed a lot and cried out to the Lord for help and mercy. I really did not know what else to pray for as all that was in me was in so much pain and anguish it seemed if I could not go another step. But go another step I did, and I kept pushing myself ever forward praying for the day when this all would makes sense and I would be on the back side of this process.
I was so lonely for someone to really talk to who might understand how I felt and what I was going through, but I had no Internet, I had no multiple groups to attend, I had no ministry to help me. All I had was Jesus and my alters to carry me on through this and the faith that someday I would get through this. I thank God so much that He gave me an optimistic attitude even in the darkest times, to believe this would not last forever. That was the thing that carried me through the abuse initially. I would always believe that nothing, no matter how bad ever lasted forever, there was always going to be another day, another side.
I am not saying that at times I did not want to give up, because I did. There was times when my mind was so crazy and in such darkness that I really did not think I would make it through, but I just did not know how to give up. I had been in a survival mode my whole life and I really did not know how to stop trying to survive.
One thing I really wish I could put down into words about that time is how madness and such intense darkness felt to me. I know that only the people out there who have ever been in such mental pain and anguish can possibly understand what it is like to have your mind on the edge of madness. It is a place no one ever wants to be. You are looking out at all the people around you, and crying out in your mind to them, trying to make them understand your pain and trying to make them understand that you can not control the craziness going on but that you are trying with everything in you to be normal and to be what they need and want you to be. However they are looking at you like you are you are an alien from another planet, bent on trying to make their lives miserable and they just have no clue how wrong they are. All you want is to be that normal mom, and normal wife and normal person, you do not even know who you are when you look in a mirror anymore then they know who you are when they look at you.
You are screaming inside for someone to help you, to understand and to make you understand this madness going on inside. You are in terror that it will never end and that somehow this madness is all there is and all you are and all you will ever be.
You feel your faith crumbling and you feel your life seeping out of you like water in a cracked vase. You feel yourself screaming from a far away place where it sounds like an echo to your mind.
That is how it was for me….
I do not know how long before I was back in another Psyche ward but not long after I got out that time I did a vanishing act. It seems I was triggered back to Tulsa and what happened to me there is still a mystery to me. All I know was I called Tim in the wee hours of the morning, very scared in a motel room. Tim says he thinks I was gone a couple of days and when I called him I was very confused and distraught. I remember how just hearing his voice made me feel a bit calmer and after telling him I was on my way home I hung up and high tailed it out of there.
I made it home just after daylight, all in one piece physically but very dissociated in my mind. I know now that I was called back for probably a tune up since I was remembering and trying to get out and get well. I still really do not know what happened to me while I was there but I figure if I am suppose to know the good Lord would bring it to my mind.
Linda worked with me for about a year but then she started going to Dallas and working with Colin Ross and everything changed after that. All of her techniques changed after she started working with him and she changed a lot as well. I was not comfortable with her anymore but I felt guilty and every time I tried to talk to her about anything it was like she put it all back on me. I felt like I was being manipulated and the emotional toll as well as the broken trust between us really did a serious number on me. I was really never able to trust another therapist after her. I did try a few after her but the results were not very good. I have had more broken promises and failures in therapists and since the trust thing is a huge problem with any survivor anyway, that is not good on any level.
One thing anyone who works with a survivor needs to know is to never make a promise you do not intend to keep and never lie or tell half truths. We can smell a lie fifty miles away and once you break our trust you can not get it back easily if ever.
I have to say that I do not trust Colin Ross or his institute. I know this might make a lot of people mad but I believe he is working for ‘them’ to reprogram multiples and help program new ones. He is not what he claims to be and I am not the only survivor who knows this. He is especially interested in Monarchs/Mk Ultra’s etc, or he used to be, he might have gone on to other things now that a lot of us are getting up in age. I have not known anyone who was helped in any long term way by him or his associates. If anyone claims to be, I wish they would write to me because I have not met them as of yet.
I know a lot about Colin Ross and I have been to his offices in the past, but suffice to say I would not trust my dog to him and his hospitals, or anything he is connected to.
That is all I have to say about that.
I am so amazed that I ever managed to get any healing done at all as my therapists turned out to not be who I thought, or basically dumped me and the fact that ‘they’ were still trying to trigger me and set off programs. It is not an easy thing to leave on any level or counts and I really believe that only the Lord Jesus Christ can get you out and keep you out. I just have found no other way. Not one person has ever shown me another way out.
I think that during the next few years I managed to go in and out of various Psyche wards on a pretty consistent basis. I would do OK for a while then have a melt down, then need to be so called stabilized and then sent home. I did OD on a couple of occasions, and once had my stomach pumped, not a fun thing to have done. It was not so much that I wanted to die as it was wanting the pain to stop.
But as the years went on and I got sucked up into the mental heath system and through them the more I went down instead of healing. I was on so many psyche drugs I could have stocked a pharmacy. My weight climbed, my dissociation grew worse, my moods were worse and I was having more violent rages. I was cutting myself on a regular basis and I think the so called mental health doctors had me diagnosed from bi polar, paranoid schizophrenic , obsessive compulsive disorder, manic depressive you name it I was diagnosed it. So then they put me on every kind of drug to supposedly help me. Yeah right! I was a zombie and in worse shape the where I started from.
The final straw finally hit when I was in a major flashback and had cut my arm real bad. I went to the mental health clinic that day and they ended up admitting me to a state mental hospital. What was one of the worst times in my life, ended up saving me.
The doctor put me on some meds that were in reality probably killing me. He kept upping the dosage to the point I could not eat I was so sick. I could actually feel my body shutting down and I was scared. While I was I in that hospital a lot of things happened that kicked up the survivor mode in me, something that had been pretty drugged down by then. I remember standing in a bathroom crying out to GOD, something I had not done in a while, when a cleaning lady walked in. She put her arm around me as asked me if she could pray for me. I said yes and she did. Something changed for me after that and I knew that if I got out of that place I would use all that was in me to fight my way back to the land of the living, even if it killed me for the trying.
Tim did manage to get me out not long after that, which was a miracle in itself and after I went home I chucked all of my meds and went cold turkey off everything. I figured I was going to die if I stayed on those drugs so if I died getting off them, oh well. I never went back to the mental health clinic again either.
It was a long haul and took me months to get well. I was so sick with my body De-toxing all the poison out of my system and I even had a few mild seizures. I remember I craved veggies and fruit and not much more during that time as my body healed itself. Sometimes I was in so much pain all I could do was lay on the bed and cry, as moving was excruciatingly painful.
But the good Lord never left me nor forgot me. He was with me the whole time and I knew that through Him I would get well and I would get better and I made a promise to Him. That if I lived through this whole thing I would help whomever He sent my way, even if it was just one person and that I would do my best to help other survivors out there.
One thing I am beginning to learn as I write this story is: that although there is only one way to the Father and that is through His Son, there are many ways to get to the Son.
All of us have a story of our own on how we got to the Son and no two stories are the same. We are all different and we all have a unique relationship to the Father. He did not make carbon copy cookie cutters out of His creation. We make ourselves into carbon copy, cookie cutter people.
We can do that either through religion, culture, traditions, etc. however it happens it is by our own making and choosing. It is not always wrong to have the same attributes of the people around you, which can be a good thing especially when you are all cultivating good things and encouraging health and growth in others, sharing faith or whatever. But when those attributes hurt, control and destroy and are based on lies then that is a whole other thing.
People bond over culture and religion and have an innate need to assimilate with each other and be a part of a group. We are basically social creatures and that is not surprising however I often think that our basic need for belonging and socializing often turns into something else, especially when we let that need over rule our independent and critical thinking.
We can get so caught up in what other people will think about us and then we worry about rejection that we often leave our unique qualities and independent thinking at home, just so we can fit in with whatever crowd we have chosen to be a part of. Being a part of something becomes more important then being true to ourselves and true to our Creator. We will compromise to the point that we are no longer an individual but a carbon copy of someone else and their beliefs, never even questioning if those beliefs are real or true or honest, or even have any worth or value to our life. We just let someone else do our thinking, our research and basically control our life.
I see this in religion all the time however it is also in politics and the entertainment industry, as well as everywhere else in life. People just seem to go with the flow never really trying to figure out what is true or false. They just believe because it is the popular thing to believe and it is much easier then having to start all over and really think about why they believe, what they believe and if it could be wrong or why it might be right.
I do not think any of us can come by this easily or quickly as it is a lifetime process. But I am beginning to see that it is a process I have always wanted to choose for myself. I never liked being a part of the crowd, or a cookie cutter person.
I have friends and people I care for however, I do not always agree with them and adhere to all of their beliefs. I do not expect them to always agree and adhere to my beliefs either. We all do seem share a common ground but we all have unique gifts and abilities and when we work together using those gifts and abilities and respect the differences a wonderful harmony seems to flow out of that and healing can then take place in our individual lives.
I think that is basically how our Creator intended it to be. Why else did He take such time to design all of His creation to be unique and individually made? To organize a religion to worship Him, I think not! Man does that, not GOD.
I know that in writing this blog these last few months I have revealed a lot of things that have shocked and appalled a lot of you out there. I have made you look outside your cookie cutter boxes of what you thought were truth and see the reality of how ugly things can be. Who wants to believe that televangelists and ministers can be perverts, Satanists and pedophiles? Who wants to know that the biggest part of the entertainers in the entertainment industry are perverts, Satanists and pedophiles? Who wants to know that our government is being run basically by perverts, Satanists and pedophiles?
I am certainly not having a great time exposing such things. However, I do feel that by exposing these things maybe a few of you out there who really want to choose why you think and believe what you do for yourselves, at least have some basic facts about such things. If you choose to ignore all of this and go back to the cookie cutter life at least you did it by your own accord and choice. You can never say you were not told the truth. You are now accountable for what you do with that truth.
That is all I have to say for today…..I will let everyone chew on that a bit and then I will continue tomorrow…..
I have been thinking a lot about the healing process and what I have observed in other people.
When I was still in the mental health system I attended a sexual abuse therapy group for a while and it was interesting to listen and watch how other survivors managed to handle the effects of their abuse.
While some were very active in trying to find a way to wellness and wholeness, others seemed to use their past abuse for an excuse to act anyway they wanted and hurt nearly all of the people around them. I saw some really crazy behavior by a lot of these women, and while some of it was not on a real conscious level a lot of it was seriously intentional.
I want to profile two women one of which took her past abuse and destroyed all the lives around her, and the other one chose to forgive and heal and bless those around her.
I will call the first one Sally. She was abused by both her father and mother and I can not minimize the pain and horror of her childhood under these two people. She grew up left home and married a very nice man who loved her and worked very hard to make a good home and life for her. She had two children, both beautiful and healthy a son and daughter.
But the problem was Sally could not forgive or let go of all that was done to her while she was growing up. She was angry all the time and her anger made her sick. When she got cancer that made her angry and she blamed God and she blamed everyone around her. When her family tried to help her she would lash out in anger and tell them they were worthless and could not do anything right. She managed to heal from cancer physically but I believe it was still in her soul. She spent all the years her children were growing up abusing them almost as much as she was abused and then she made excuses for it by saying they deserved it because they would not understand her pain and how hard everything was for her. It was an endless cycle and eventually her children became estranged as well as her husband. To his credit he did not divorce her and continued to support her but he took a job where he would not be home any length of time. Her verbal abuse was brutal and relentless so he had no reason to stay home. She grew angrier because no one in her family wanted to be near her to take her constant verbal abuse and assaults.
When I met her in the group she was always sick and always depressed and was always a victim. I did try and reach out to her and offer friendship but it did not turn out to well. One night she called me and told me she had taken an overdose of drugs. Her speech was slurred and I could tell she was in bad shape. I called 911 and got an ambulance out to her home they managed to get to her and she got her stomach pumped. They admitted her to a hospital for several weeks but when she got home she called me and promptly chewed me out. She accused me of being a bad friend and not caring and that if I did I would have helped her instead of calling 911 and getting her put in a mental hospital. She told me she had no intention of committing suicide and I should have known it.
Well I did not hear from her for a very long time after that. I continued to pray for her but I figured that was that.
One day I ran into her at the grocery store and we chatted for a few minutes. I tried to be up beat and positive and tell her what the Lord had done in my life and how good it felt to be healing and going on with my life, I guess you could say I was trying to do a serious ‘hint, hint’ kind of thing to maybe encourage her. Well the first thing she did was go off on how bad her life was, how bad and awful her family was and how sick she always was and how no one cared. I could see nothing had changed for her. She was still that sad bitter angry woman. What a waste of a life.
A few nights later she called me and it was a repeat of the night a few years before. She had taken an overdose because no one cared or loved her and as I listened to her voice grow faint I kept her on the line while my husband called 911 on another phone.
They broke her door down to get to her and they took her to the hospital once again to pump her stomach.
If you have not already guessed it, she called me a week later to promptly chew me out for betraying her and not coming to her house myself instead of sending an ambulance, because then I could have known she was OK and not dying. She said a lot of other mean things as well but suffices to say she was not a happy camper.
I do not remember what I said to her but I know I lost my patients. Anyway when I tried to pray for her later I couldn’t pray. I was surprised and it was like a little voice said inside…. She had made her choice; she wants to be sick she does not want to get well. She called me a few weeks later but I refused to talk to her, my husband did and she told him to tell me she was sorry for yelling at me. I forgave her that was no problem but I decided then and there I was not going to play her game anymore and I was not going to have anything more to do with her. She was toxic for me and I did not need that in my life. I would have run a marathon for her if she had ever tied a little to get well, but I was not going to waste my time and energy any more on someone who did not care. Too many other people out there really did care and needed my help. I learned a good lesson through her…. Some people we can help and some we have to walk away from because if they do not want to get well and heal there is nothing anyone can do for them.
The Second person I want to tell you about is my sister-in law Janice. I hope she does not mind me writing about her, but she is so special and such an inspiration I think writing about her will help others in their journey to wellness and healing.
Janice like so many others was abused while growing up. She had a very painful time of it and as she left home carried a lot of scars and pain from that abuse.
I know she must have struggled through the years in her healing just like everyone else however, in that healing she chose to forgive her abuser.
In that choice she has become a strong woman of faith and loving caring mother, wife and grandmother and she blesses everyone around her with her compassion and caring gentleness. She reminds me of Martha in the bible as she is always serving others and does it with love, not because it is a chore. She has been a Godsend for my brother and I do not think he would be the man he is today if not for her love and faithfulness. She is to my brother John what my husband Tim has been to me. Janice is an example of what love and forgiveness can do in a life and for those around you and how by choosing that road, life can be much different and such a blessing.
I know I wrote a lot more about the first person then the second but the second speaks volumes more then the first.
I do not know about you all out there but I want to be like Janice….
I love you Janice…..
This is my first post for the New Year and I thought it should be something profound however, I can not think of a thing that even remotely sounds profound.
As I lay awake in the early hours I thought I might get inspired and I prayed about that inspiration to come but alas, here I am and no profound inspirations.
I suppose you all want me to go on with my story and I will and I am as the rest of my story is about healing and getting whole and that is still an ongoing story. I suppose it will continue to be until I am called home to be with my Lord.
But while I am here I want so badly to help whomever I can on their journey to wellness and wholeness and to have a life filled with faith and hope. That is all I want to do with the rest of my life here on planet earth.
I had a precious house guest over Christmas, her name is Lara and she has a link on my site to her blog. She is Cherokee hippie. Anyway, Lara taught me a lot about what I want to be more like. She has a gift of praise and joy in the Lord that was amazing to me. Lara I hope you do not mind me writing about you, but you are an inspiration and since I am looking for inspiration today you came to mind.
Anyway, Lara has a beautiful singing voice and when she sings I swear angels must stop and listen. She knows several Hebrew songs as she has spent time in Israel and acquired some knowledge of the language and music, customs etc. The thing is when she is happy or grateful or whatever, she just breaks out in song to the Lord with these beautiful Hebrew songs. It is amazing and it is also inspiring to see such spontaneity in the spirit. I have always had a hard time just singing and praising the Lord, not that I do not like too, or that I never do, however, I have been so turned of by all the fake stuff I endured in the churches through out my life I have a hard time being any kind of spontaneous and for sure I am always feeling limited in my worship because the old tapes of religion are running in my brain.
I remember how fake I always felt in church when they had their praise and worship services. I mean it was all so controlled and programmed and if you did not sing or raise your hands during that time you were looked at like an atheist almost. How can anyone feel free with that kind of pressure? And since most of the churches I attended were run by ‘them’ well, I never felt free to praise and worship as I always felt like I was praising and worshiping the wrong God. But I did not realize how much this had affected me until Lara came and showed me her free spirit. Wow, what a neat thing to behold, she is amazing. That is when I realized how I was so limited and how I do not want to be.
Hey that just gave me another New Years resolution….. To sing unto the Lord everyday freely….
Lara also knows how to do this neat kind of Hebrew dance that I want to learn. I was kind of bashful to ask her to show me when she was here but I did ask her before she left if I might come and visit her in the spring and get her to teach me. Of course she said yes, as she is a Lamb.
So while this post is not long or profound, I think I found some inspiration after all in Lara. Thanks Lara you are a lamb and a precious sister to me. I love you my sister in the Lord…..
I think I will continue on from where I left off a few weeks ago about getting off psyche drugs and de-toxing etc.
After I got clean from all the psyche drugs I had to learn how to deal with my memories and flashbacks on my own without numbing myself. That in itself was a very good thing for me as it was a whole new level of healing in that I was learning how to feel and not totally have a melt down. Not that I did not have a few meltdowns in the process.
Tim started a business of his own during that time and I was his chief secretary and book keeper etc. I taught myself a lot of new skills and I also had a lot of time to paint and work on my art. That was a great therapy for me as well.
I was having a lot of body memories then and I think my artwork helped me deal with a lot of things I did not understand. I had not used a computer up to that point and so I had never been on the net and I had no idea or memories of ORU, Mengele , Monarch etc. Most of the memories I was dealing with were choppy and confusing as I had no reference point to make any kind of sense out of them.
For a few months I went to a regular counselor but she did not really know anything about MPD/DID and satanic ritual abuse however, I do not think my time with her was wasted. She has been abducted off and on her whole life by ‘grays’ and she also had a lot of experiments done on her; She had even had a baby taken from her after being impregnated by ‘them’. She told me she had an implant behind her ear as well. I really liked this woman and I believed her then and I believe her now. I think she was relived to have someone believe and not think she was crazy. Anyway that is when I started making a few connections to the ‘alien abductions abuse’ and ‘satanic ritual abuse’. There were a lot of similarities in the things done to the victims. I saw that right away in the way they hurt people and have no compassion or regard for feelings or humanity. Also a lot of the procedures are alike in the medical things they do to people and genetic experiments and taking babies and all of that stuff.
I know I was taken to some underground bases and had things done to me but I do not have enough memories to really talk much about it or say exactly where I was taken. I have a vague sense of being exposed a little to grays, and reptilians but like I said not enough memories to really say much about it. Maybe those memories will surface later but I am content to leave them be. If the Lord sees fit for me to remember I will but until then I do not push memories.
Anyway I went to her for a few months but I think it was more for her then me other then getting the information from her and making connections.
My oldest daughter started going through a horrible divorce during this time and well that played out in Tulsa Ok. What a nightmare that turned out to be as it was right in the lions den. Things got so desperate that I even worked up the nerve and went to my dad who lives by Tulsa and after many years of not talking to him asked him if he would pull some strings with his Masonic buddies to help his grand daughter and her boys. Well if you have not guessed he did not help and she lost her boys anyway, however, seeing my dad after so many years was actually a good thing for me. He was an old man and I needed to see him that way. I also saw that he could not hurt me anymore and I needed to see that as well, as his power over me was not there anymore. I realized how sad a man he was as he wasted his whole life for nothing. The big giant monster I saw in my head was no longer there, only an old pathetic, lonely man with nothing for all he gave up to ‘them’. I could forgive him but I knew that I would never have anything else to do with him after that. I was not looking for a relationship or a dad; I was only looking for help for my daughter and grand kids. He could not do that for them and I knew enough to know that he still was not safe for me to be around or trust.
I was probably wrong for going to my dad in the first place but I was desperate, however I learned a good lesson, never go to the enemy for anything no matter what reason, go to the Lord and trust Him in all things and trust Him only.
After my daughter lost her boys we lost our business as we had taken so much out of it to help her and seeing her go through so much and Tim lose his dream, well I kind of had a melt down and ended up in the hospital, but it was for the last time and God sent someone to minister to me in a special way. I think that was a big leap in my healing.
While I was in the hospital which would be for the last time (I had already been in several through out the years, at least nine times) I was beginning to wonder if I was ever going to get well and have any kind of a normal life. I also was wondering if mental hospitals were always going to be in the cards for me. That was not a bright future to contemplate on any level. I had seen a lot of terrifying and sad things in these hospitals in all my stays and I had already figured out what I did not want for my life.
As I lay in my bed I cried out yet again to the Lord and pleaded with Him to please show me a way out, to please give me some kind of hope for healing.
I think it was a day or so later a minister came to the unit to visit someone else there and for some reason he started talking to me. He was a nice man and had a very gentle caring nature about him. I sensed right away that he was not the typical preacher type because in all of my stays I had never seen any ministers come to the psyche wards. It was like we were off limits to the clergy. Give them a dying cancer patient anytime, just not a psyche ward patient.
Anyway this man sat down with me and even though I do not remember our conversation anymore I do remember his compassion and his caring nature. He came the next night as well and even brought me a new bible. He prayed with me in a way that made me feel as if he really had a connection with the Father and I felt a peace inside like I had not had in a very long time. For the first time I really believed that I would get better and heal. I had hope and hope was something I desperately needed.
I left the hospital soon after that and somehow I knew that I would never have to go back into one. I knew I had a long way to go in my healing, but I knew in my heart that something very profound had happened inside of me.
I did find a new therapist for a short time named Helen, and she was a very sweet person and I saw her for several months but gradually I stopped for one reason or another and then she got sick with Breast Cancer and had a huge battle of her own to deal with.
But I somehow knew that a therapist was not what I needed anymore, that somehow I was going to have to find the strength I needed inside of me and through my faith in the Lord to make this journey.
I could sense in myself a merging of sorts with a lot of my fractured parts but with that came a whole new set of problems to deal with. Not necessarily in a real bad way but problems in the sense of learning all over again how to do a lot of things my others parts did on their own. I had to learn how to be a whole person with a few parts instead of a fractured person with no wholeness. I do not know if any of that makes a lot of sense but that is the way it is when a multiple starts to heal.
I was also not processing my memories that same way I had been either. I noticed as I was healing that when I had a flashback or whatever I was not reacting in the shell shocked hit the deck kind of way I had been in the beginning. I was actually able to work through my memories in a better way with out falling apart and not being able to function for days on end. I could cry and still go on and do what I needed to do in my everyday life. I am not saying I did not still have an occasional meltdown, because I did, but they were getting fewer and fewer and farther in between.
I did sense that something new was coming to the front however, some kind of new memories that I was not so sure what to do about. These memories were very slow in coming and were often like flashes…. Then I would go into kind of a quiet period where I wondered if my alters had completely left me alone and if I had done all I was going to do and came as far as I could in my healing. I guess you could say it was kind of a remission period. In retrospect I think it was my minds way of calming itself and healing on a whole other level before it opened up for more traumatic memories. This went on for several months, however it was kind of frustrating as I often felt alone and unsure of myself and I still had a sense that something was not done in me yet. I started sensing a whole other level inside of me at the end of this period as well and I was not real sure what to do with that.
I taught myself how to use the computer during this time and got on the Internet looking for answers and maybe others out there who had been in the place I was in. Not an easy thing to do but I did manage to find a survivors forum and such and even though I enjoyed the posting with other multiples I was not finding out what I needed to know.
I started having a lot of memories in the next stage of weird things, such as things being done to me at Oral Roberts University, Roy Clark’s ranch and such but I could not understand it all. I could not understand why I was having such reaction to anything on TV dealing with the charismatic movement and all of that stuff either. I was also being drawn to ritualistic stuff in an odd way. I went to a few different churches in my town looking for rituals; I even contemplated converting to Judaism for a short time as the rituals attracted me. It was like I was craving some kind of ritual and I could not make any sense out of it. I finally settled for a church nearby as they had enough of a Sunday ritual to satisfy whatever was going on inside of me. I was not going for the Lord and I knew it, I was going for the ritual but I figured if I gave into this maybe something would click and I would remember what it was that was pushing me so hard. Besides I do not think I could have not gone at that point even if I had tried as the compulsion was that strong with in me.
I was still dealing with depressions and mood swings but the thing was I was dealing with them and not letting them deal with me. I think that is an important thing to know in the healing process and that is how even though you have to deal with depressions, memories and such the further you go on in the healing process the better you get at handling them. You start to realize that you will get through that depression and you will go on and you will overcome and you will keep on, keeping on. I felt strength inside of me growing, in knowing that.
I started taking care of my friend Brenda during this time as well and by taking care of her physical needs I learned a lot about compassion and gentleness. She taught me more and gave me more, by taking care of her then I could have ever done for her. I will always be grateful for the time I had taking care of Brenda. Through her I was able to forget my own self and reach out and be there for someone else. She had to trust me in ways no other adult had ever trusted me and I felt a new sense of who I was and who I wanted to be through that experience. I found something in me I did not know was even there and for the first time in my life I liked the person inside of me. I realized I was not all of the horrible things I had always been told I was. I could be a friend. I really did not know that before Brenda.
There were so many new things for me to learn and I was constantly amazed as well as at times overwhelmed by all of these discoveries and insights.
Healing is an ever constant thing….. There are many stages to healing, many ups and downs and many roads to recovery no matter what you may be recovering from.
I happen to be healing from years of sexual, physical, emotional, mental and spiritual abuse. Such is my life…. However; as I have said before the abuse I was put through is not the sum total of who I am. It may have shaped the person I have become but it is not all of who I am. I am not just a satanic ritual abuse, monarch survivor; I am also Judy a child of the Father, my Creator and a human being. I may have had my personality shattered in a thousand pieces but when you put all of those pieces together it still makes one person. I can not separate all of those pieces from the one person whom God created in the beginning of my life. I was created as one person and I will die as one person, period.
I think that is an important thing to remember if you happen to be a multiple. It kind of puts things in perspective for us. We get so used to seeing things in different compartments that we forget we are really one person and one body with many facets. But I think all of us have many facets even if we do not happen to be a created multiple from trauma and mind control.
How many of you out there deal with secrets? How many deal with things inside of you that you do not what anyone else to see or know? How many of you have ever had a secret life and did things no one else knows about? How many of you have secret desires, fears, and longings no one knows anything about?
My guess is everyone who is alive and breathing on this planet. I think the only difference in you and us multiples is we tend to have amnesiac walls between our facets and a lot of the facets in us were created to keep us alive and protect our minds from totally breaking apart, or was artificially created to do a specific thing..
I know a lot of people who are not multiples who do have amnesiac walls however, to keep things they do not want to see or know hidden with in them selves for protection. So maybe we are not all that different. Maybe it is just a very fine line between a multiple and a regular person and a regular person could become a multiple under the right conditions.
So when I talk about the healing process I am talking to people who have been hurt and that is everyone who has been hurt, not just multiples. I just happen to be a multiple telling my story but healing is for us all. My story is not limited to multiples, SRA survivors or Monarch survivors. My hope and prayers is for my story to reach out to the many who have been hurt in all ways and give them hope and encouragement to keep on fighting for healing and deliverance and wholeness as a person, a human and child of God.
I am putting my heart and my story out there for all of you because I can not think of another thing on this whole planet that I can do that could ever make any difference then doing this. This is what is in my heart to do, to tell the truth, to expose the lies and to offer hope in the Real Jesus and Creator, not in some fake system of religion.
I want to talk about my experiences with religion and churches today because so many of you out there have been so hurt and abused by those institutions.
I do not think the Christian religions and organizations have a monopoly on such things but that is where my experience in such things lies.
I do not really remember going to church much as a child. I know we always got the usual ‘Easter’ attire each year with the new dress, patent leather shoes, hat and gloves. Why we got all dolled up is a mystery to me as I have not one memory of ever attending an Easter Worship service before the age of maybe twelve and then it is a guess not a real memory. That does not mean we did not go to one, it just means I have no memory. I need to ask my brother if he remembers ever going. I know we were not inclined to go to church much before then in any case.
The first church I ever remember attending was a Baptist church in Iowa. I think I might have gone to vacation bible school there one summer and I do remember the preacher having the same birthday as I did and he even gave me my first real bible then. I also remember having a massive panic attack the few memories I do have of us as a family getting ready for church. My mom would get so mad at me as I always managed to throw a fit before church and ruin things. What I know now is that I was reacting to all of the satanic ritual stuff I had been subjected to in church buildings and I figure that is why I have no real memories of actually attending church in any normal way before then.
I often felt confused as to why I was such a brat before church, as I really wanted to go. I never understood that mean wild child that tended to come out when I was least expecting it.
We moved to Okmulgee Oklahoma when I was about ten and my mom started going to a Presbyterian church. All I really remember about that is the massive pipe organ they had there and how amazed and impressed I was with it. I also remember one time in Sunday school asking the teacher what Easter was supposed to be about. She told me about Jesus and how he died on the cross and was resurrected. I was still confused as I could not think how bunnies, eggs and all of that stuff fit in. I know now what Easter is about and I do not celebrate it in any way, however that is my choice and decision.
While we were in Okmulgee I went to a Pentecostal church with a girl a few doors down from my house. Man was that a shocker for me. I though those people were nuts and truthfully I was a bit terrified. They were screaming and talking in babble, jumping up and down, crying and whaling as if in pain. I really wanted to leave and go back to the pipe organ and the nice rituals there of singing the doxology and reading programmed scriptures. At least those people did not scare me half to death. I might fall asleep during the service but at least I did not want to hit the deck and hide.
It was during that time however during my eleventh birthday I was introduced to Oral Roberts and his University and then the next church we started attending was in Tulsa, as we had just moved there the summer before I was twelve.
That church was called Evangelistic Temple and was a Pentecostal church as well. Now I know I could get into heaps of trouble even mentioning this church and this is the first time. I did a google on the church and none of the people who were there then seemed to be there now, but that was many moons ago. All I know is that in the late 1960’s and during the 1970’s the biggest part of that church was made up of Satanists and pedophiles and that included most if not all of the people in charge of the church. That church was well connected to Oral Roberts University as a lot of the professor’s and such were members and a lot of students went there also. So I can see that is was no accident why we started going to this church.
I have written a lot about what happened to me at this church on my blog before so I will not repeat any of that but suffices to say the real Jesus was not a part of that place.
I also attended a fellowship at a school auditorium off and on during my teen years but I now know that was part of ‘their’ connections for me also. I was used a lot to pass out tracks and pull kids in through the Jesus Movement they had going on. It was all connected to Oral Roberts and the Word Faith Movement that was taking off in Tulsa. I remember going to a concert by the pianist named Dino who played for Kathryn Kuhlman at that school auditorium and well let’s say I got the honors of servicing him.
I have some vague memories of André Crouch and the Disciples during that time as well.
I attended the main church until I was married at seventeen and then I did go back a few times after that. I remember during a dedication of my three oldest children I almost had a panic attack in front of the church and did not want to go back anymore and I didn’t as far as I can remember.
I tried going to a small fellowship in a little town Rick and I had moved to for a short while but that fell through and then I did not go back to church for a few years until I think I was pregnant with my fourth child and then we had moved to S.E. Oklahoma by then.
I started attending a Word Faith Church and they taught from all of Kenneth Hagin’s books, Charles Capps and Kenneth Copland who was riding on Hagin’s coat tails. They were also into Oral Roberts. I was very confused while going there but like all good little Christian girls I was taught I had to be in a church and I had to listen and believe these so called anointed preachers and teachers. I was not allowed to ask questions or show any doubts in what they were teaching and as I look back on it all now all I have to say is it was and still is one big controlling cult.
I did not fit in and as hard as I tried I could not fit in. Thank God!
So I started going to a small Choctaw church in the country and during that time it was run my two very sweet older lady missionaries. I really loved those ladies and they probably taught me the first real Christian love I ever experienced.
But they ended up leaving and another man and his family took over, they were nice but they ended up leaving and then a Choctaw preacher took over and well, he did not really like this crazy, red headed white girl. He tolerated me because I was married to a Full Blood and had Half Breed kids that needed bible teaching. When Rick dumped me for the last time, this was the preacher who kicked me out of the church because I was fed up with Rick. I got a lot of flack back then by the Choctaws for marrying one of theirs. But I did manage to make some very wonderful Choctaw friends as well and I learned that prejudice is on all side of the fence, it is not limited to any one race.
I wanted my kids to be proud of their heritage and even though Rick did not make the effort I tried to always take the kids to their family reunions and let them be with their dad’s family. I think I finally earned a grudging respect for doing that from a lot of Rick’s family members and in truth I really loved a lot of his family and I still do.
Anyway after getting kicked out of that church I did not attend any church for another few years and then when I did I wanted a church as far removed as I could get from my previous experiences. I was married to Jim then when I started going to another Word Faith church for a short time (you would think I would learn) and then a Baptist church and well I discovered after throwing myself into it that it was not much different then any other churches I had attended. Same kinds of people and I still did not fit in. I figured it had to be me as I was the only constant in these situations, so I concluded I was just not fit, or had what it took to be a good Christian.
One thing I need to mention is that during all of this time in my life I did study with Mormons, Jehovah Witnesses, and even the Church Of Christ but to no avail, I did not fit in with them either. Thank God again!
This all finally coming around to yet another Pentecostal church where I was almost annihilated and then I quit churches again for a while and then I started my needing a ritual phase and went to another Presbyterian church, back to the church where I got annihilated (told you I was slow) and finally a different Assembly Of God Church where it finally occurred to me that maybe churches were not the thing I needed to do anymore.
So now you have it…..why I chucked the Christian religion. I am sure I forgot a few churches here and there that I attended for short periods of time but I am sure you get the idea.
My faith is more real and honest now then it has ever been and I have finally found out where I fit in. I fit in right where I am and I finally have a real relationship with my Lord and Savior.
Now how was that for a story?
There is another aspect of healing multiple personalities that I wanted to write about today so for all of you out there who are not multiples please bare with me on this.
One thing I have noticed on my journey to wellness and wholeness is that nothing is as I thought it would be or expected it to be. Some of the things in my healing have been amazing and some surprising and some down right frustrating.
Since I have not had the privilege of knowing very many multiples that have been healed to any degree, the few that I have talked to has been a God send for me. That is why I wanted to write this post today, for those of you out there who are real new to this stuff.
Anyway the thing is as I started to heal I noticed a few things that I was not real sure about and made me feel confused and worried over at times. I figure some of you out there might be going through the same thing or getting ready to; I needed to warn you so you will not be shocked our worried.
The deal is as you start integrating and you will, not because you really ask for it or whatever, it is just a side effect of healing. : ) Well, the thing is as you start healing and your system starts integrating you will notice that a lot of things you used to do you can not do anymore. You might even have to learn some things all over again and develop some new skills to compensate for the skills you seem to have lost.
I have found a lot of new challenges because I just assumed as I healed, my alters would gracefully merge and form this wonderful complete functioning person who could do amazing things. Not!
I really was not prepared for all of the changes I would have to deal with and truthfully at times I have felt like a bumbling baby in the face of some of my new challenges.
I am not talking about this because I want to discourage anyone from working toward their healing and becoming whole, because even in the face of all my adjustments and challenges it has been much more worth it then the dissociated fractured person I was.
One challenge I have had is my short term memory problems. That has been a real pain in the butt ox. I find it really hard to retain a lot of what I am reading now days and when I used to be a voracious reader going through many books a week, I am lucky to get one down completely a month now and then I am not sure of what I read. I have to go back over the things I read, a lot and that takes time and effort and it often makes me feel very frustrated. I used to love doing research of any kind but now it is a painfully slow process and I end up losing information before I can get it down.
I get embarrassed about my recall on a lot of stuff and become afraid that I may sound incompetent or stupid.
There is a lot of stuff I am trying to research now that I am pulling my hair out about and there are some people I want to ask questions that has information about my research, but I have been hesitant to call them and talk because I can not articulate my thoughts clearly enough to ask what I want to know as I have already forgotten what it was and I am going to have to go back and re read my research and go at it again. If that made you feel dizzy reading this, well it made me dizzy writing it.
I had an alter who was amazing at research and recall and could really get things done. Well, guess what…. She is not functioning on her own now and that part of me is learning to blend in as a whole unit and instead of me getting those wonderful skills, I have to learn them for myself. No cheat sheets, or short cuts, I am learning how to be a normal person learning how to do real things. Only problem is, I am fifty-one years old and it makes my brain cramp.
I have to admit I am like everyone else, change hurts and I feel resistance. But I am plowing on and I am not giving up because this research is important to me and I think it might be to you all out there reading this also. But who knows how long it might take.
So I have to tell you that when you start healing and functioning as a whole person and a less fractured one be prepared to find out you just might have to learn a lot of things all over again.
I found that even though I used to have personalities that were gifted in music and such, I can not play the piano anymore. But I do think that may come back again at a later time. I have also lost a lot of information from college as the alters who took certain classes seem to have taken what they learned as well. I am having a hard time with my art work, but I think that will be OK in time also. Right now I am not working to hard on that area as my writing is taking up a lot more time at this point. I hope to integrate my writing and art a lot more as time goes on. I have noticed however that the more I write the better that skill is getting and I seem to have a knack in this area that I really did not know I had.
I have also found other areas in my life where I have a knack I did not know I had. Like with my critters, I seem to have an instinct and compassion loaded with patience for my animals that I never even thought about having before. Who would have thought a city girl could turn into a country girl so easily.
I am also learning about gardening and other things. The gardening in a slow process for me because I forget stuff I read and the research I have tried to do to learn on how to plant things. One of my dear friends is always helping me out with garden info but I forget a lot and get things mixed up and tend to feel kind of dopey at times about that. But she is patient with me and never seems to mind repeating stuff for me even if I have asked her a dozen times the same things. I have no doubt this years gardening will be as much of a challenge as the last few years. It is always a new day for Judy. : )
Another thing I have had to relearn is managing money. I have always been pretty good in that area but I have had to learn a different way to do my bills and checkbook. I have the checkbook thing down, but the bills can still be a challenge as I can not seem to get organized in any real manageable way. I am not late paying bills and such but I often feel the frustration buttons being pushed as I wade my way through that area.
I wish I could get organized…. That is something I strive for. My studio looks like a nightmare and I have been working on it now for two years. Please God help me! Such is my life.
So with all I have written the thing I want to get across is that as you heal please go easy on yourself. When you find you have to learn things you did not anticipate, try and look at each new challenge as a new start.
You are learning how to be you, not a programmed mind controlled robot.
I have to add to what I wrote a few days ago because I have had some of my friends out there to remind me of a few things… guess what?… I forgot and did not take into consideration about this memory thing going on.
So with that I am adding to what I wrote using their help … Thanks to Steven and Regina in particular…. What would I ever do without their help and reminders? : )
From Regina…..I have no doubt this years gardening will be as much of a challenge as the last few years. It is always a new day for Judy. : )
SOOOO>>>>> I rebuke this statement in the name of our Savior Yashua!!!
Keep telling yourself that each and every day will improve or, it won’t.... We really do get what we say/want. We can get free from "them" and we can be restored so be careful little mouth /typewriter hands what you say.
I ask for forgiveness in any part I may have played in your gardening struggle by overwhelming you with different seed & info. My prayer for you this gardening year is that you will basically toss the seeds on the ground& they will grow. Period!!!!!!
I love ya Regina…. I needed that reminder….you are such a blessing….
Now for Steven….
I want to comment on some things you wrote.
Memory loss may have absolutely nothing to do with your SRA. The more I read the more I know how widespread this is becoming. One of my email friends has it very bad. She has mycoplasmas among other ills. I think a lot of it comes from the biological, chemical, and radio frequency warfare our satanic government is bombarding us with. I have it to some degree. And my mind is so much slower than it used to be. I find it hard to read books anymore because of concentration problems. For some reason I don't have the patience I used to also. I nearly always scan through internet stuff. Look around at people. Most act like zombies going through their daily routine completely oblivious to the dangers around us.
I've also become very unorganized. My room always looks like a nightmare. My dad's outbuilding is such a mess you can hardly move through it. Time seems so fast now. Decades ago I was bored with nothing to do and now I can't even get necessities finished daily.
Your religious revelations are eye opening.
And Steven added some really good info about this so I am posting it for us all….
Perhaps the creepiest of all chemtrail-related developments is the appearance of an affliction called "Morgellons disease." According to microbiologist Dr. Hildegarde Staninger, Morgellons is an environmental disease that will ultimately infect more living things than any other disease in history. "Its environmental impact will be far greater than DDT, PCBs and asbestos have ever been," Dr. Staninger stated to an audience of environmental professionals in 2007.
Morgellons is a "Nano-911 foreign invader," Dr. Staninger explained and added that medical professionals struggling to identify the infection have called it "fiber disease, mystery disease, delusional parasitosis and unknown dermatological skin disorder, to name a few."
Biologic components have been reported in airborne samples that include modified molds, desiccated red blood cells and exotic strains of bacteria. Additionally, award winning investigative reporter, Will Thomas, has reported findings of over 300 types of virally-mutated fungi in the chemtrail fall out. The IO reported in July, 2006, that analysis of chemtrail fallout in Iowa revealed traces of 26 known toxins including barium, aluminum and uranium, a variety of infectious pathogens, chemicals and drugs including sedatives. The government admits to deploying "military chaff" (fiberglass-coated aluminum particles) when air force pilots are training in U.S. airspace. Dr.R. Michael Castle reports the finding of cationic polymer fibers. Others have reported findings of tiny parasitic nematode eggs of some type encased in the fibers. Researcher Clifford Carnicom has reported finding chemtrail fibers that are an exact match with the bizarre fibers found in those suffering from Morgellons disease. Welcome to the brave new world of toxic skies, weather control, mind control and population control through the use of chemtrails modulated with electromagnetic frequencies generated by HAARP. Our health is under attack as evidenced by the skyrocketing rates of chemtrail-induced lung cancer, asthma and pulmonary/respiratory problems as well as the emergence of a new plague, Morgellons disease, an infection of unknown pathology that has been diagnosed in an estimated 60,000 Americans in over 12,000 families in the U.S.http://www.proliberty.com/observer/20081211.htm
Diminished brain function. I’ve observed in recent years that co-workers, especially those I’ve attempted to train, all seem to be losing their short-term memory. They’ll set a coffee cup down and forget its whereabouts 10 seconds later. They’ll work on stuff for the field and leave the office without it. Ten years ago, trainees could be given three or four tasks at one time and remember them all...now they can only handle one at a time, at best—very spooky! Children in particular, who should have a strong memory, seem affected also. Store clerks and others seem to suffer from these same neurological symptoms as well.
Putting the pieces together: A researcher’s storyhttp://www.proliberty.com/observer/20081212.htm
Early onset Alzheimers. I found a new source for Morgellons fibers in an old paper wick inside our humidifier. It’s about 6-8 months old and hasn’t been used since the summer. It’s loaded with Morgellons and other things. The truth remains: Every single time I look at new stuff, it gets worse and worse. In 2004 (I believe), three weeks before Christmas, a very spooky thing happened. An unusual chemical smell was in the air that others noticed as well—somewhat like a pesticide. One morning I woke up and couldn’t remember the day or what time I was to go to work. I panicked a little, but drove off to work anyway, kind of stunned. I was afraid I had had a stroke. It was about 6 a.m. While driving, I saw not one but THREE major accidents on the main road—highly unusual for that early in the morning and I rarely see three accidents in a single month.
Throughout the next month, everyone in the office and even store clerks seemed to have the same problem and were joking about early-onset Alzheimers. I did not find it funny, however, as I was aware that something had happened. Slowly I regained my memory, but it felt like I was fighting to get it back. I mentioned this to a co-worker and he told me that his wife, an accountant for years, said that she all of a sudden was having trouble with normal math (during the same period) and he said that he too had forgotten things more than usual.
During that Christmas season, I noticed that store clerks would take money and forget immediately what it was for, or continually stumble trying to count change. I was and still am quite concerned. It took about three months to recover and about that time a doctor named Patricia Doyle called the Jeff Rense program with the same exact story (search "amnesiacs" at www.rense.com). She said her small town back east was experiencing memory dysfunction after heavy spraying and she apologized for having to read notes she had made for the program as she too was having short-term memory difficulty.
Thank you very much Steven for this info and in case you all do not know I have a link to Steven’s blog and he is always posting really good info there about a range of things. It is ‘Call to Discernment’ so check it out often as he is always adding things and also check out his archives as well.
So I want to thank all of you out there who called me on this memory thing…. I needed to be reminded, but in truth I wish it was just a multiple thing because then it would not be affecting so many others….but alas that is not the case.
I welcome anyone else out there to send me info on this subject and I will be sure to post it so we can all benefit from the information. After all we are all in this together; maybe some of you out there can find more info on how to fight this memory thing as well, we need solutions also.
Now this is why I am doing this blog…..and it is great to know you all are paying attention….
Thanks Steven and Regina, and please always keep being so honest with me…..and thanks too the others out there who are as well.
Love & Prayers,
I got a very good letter in the comment section of my blog after one of my postings, from Denise. Since she asked me such great questions I thought I would answer then in this post because I thought a lot of you out there might have the same questions.
I can not answer them all perfectly but I will do the best I can with what I know about what it is like for me. Since each of us are unique it may be very different for other multiples then it has been for me. So here is Denise’s letter and I will follow with my response.
I was wondering a few things. I have always been shy about asking about your other persona's and such cause I knew you have been struggling since I have known you. I didn’t want to make things harder for you and I am more of a person that listens and lets the other person tell me things when they are ready.
I was wondering how your multiples are handling merging? I also wonder if you are discovering multiples you didn’t exist as others merge? And when a persona merges, do you feel a deep loss like if you lost a loved one? When you merge do you still feel their presence but in a different way or are they gone? I would imagine it is a sad thing to merge, but it is a good thing. As an outsider, the only thing I think I can compare (feeling wise) is to when you have to let a very close boyfriend go because you know deep inside that you are not good for each other. (But I am just guessing as to how it is like). Thanks for sharing so much of yourself Judy.
Oh, will you keep several multiples, or do you have a choice? Can a person live a whole healthy life with a multiple or two?
First off I really appreciate your sensitivity to my feelings all these years you have known me. In truth I would have gladly tried to answer any questions you might have had and I certainly would not have minded you asking but I can understand how hard that might have been for you. So I am glad you are asking me now.
The second thing I need to help you understand is we are called a multiple, but the parts of us that have split off are called ‘alters’. It can get kind of confusing so do not feel bad about getting it mixed up.
How are my alters handling merging? Well, that is kind of a hard thing to explain but I will try. All of my alters were not created equally so it has been kind of a mixed bag for me. Harmony, Melodie, and Rachael were the three main parts who did the biggest part of the day to day stuff to keep me going. They were amazing and as I have felt them merge it has not been as bad as I thought it would. I can still feel them in a very close, personal way and it is like instead of three separate people it is more like three very close friends are working along side me in unison. It happened very easily and gently so I do not feel their loss at all, I feel their strength.
For some of my little’s it has been a bit harder to make the transition. Nicki, and Button’s were the two main little’s inside me and took an amazing amount of abuse. I can still feel them a bit at times however not like I used to and I really miss them a lot. I think they pretty much grew up, maybe not quite to the body’s age but enough to merge. They were sweet and fun and spirited. So yes I feel a loss from their youth and innocence but sometimes when I see color books and crayons I feel a huge surge of happiness and excitement so I know they are still somewhere inside and part of me.
There are a lot of other alters but these are the ones that were out front the most in everyday life to help me function.
The biggest losses I have felt are the alters who had a lot of my skills and talents. The frustration of having to learn so much all over again has been rough to say the least. I have had a few alters go that I have felt a deep loss in that I depended on them for certain things and it is like having a husband or wife or parent who did things for you and you have a special relationship with and then they went out of your life. I do not feel the essence of them anymore at all, just a vacant place inside.
Some alters were not so good or healthy. They were special cult alters, special programmed alters to do things I would not do or approve of. I do not feel them anymore and I am glad. They were dangerous and unhealthy for me to have.
I have uncovered several layers of programmed alters the last several years of healing but most of them were the unhealthy kind and they have been exposed like the layers of an onion. As I heal, they get exposed and as I get stronger as a person, they get much weaker. I am still finding out about some of them.
Will I keep some of my alter’s? I really do not know, but I suspect as I continue to heal and become whole it is less likely. Not that I was looking to be totally integrated because that was never my goal, my goal was to heal, whatever that entailed. But then I have to look at it this way…. I am my alters and they are me. However I heal I think it is not so much being integrated as it is learning to work as the whole person the Father created me to be. Like I have said before, I was created as one person and I will be one person when I die, period.
Can a multiple live a whole, healthy life with an alter or two? Who knows? Some would say no, and say that strongly but I have to say…. Who lives a perfectly whole and healthy life on this planet? If you are a multiple with a few alters or someone who had no alters but living a lie or a life hurting for other reasons, what is the difference? We are all people struggling with something to overcome.
I still lose a bit of time now and then, I still struggle…. Does that mean I can not live a whole healthy life? Well I think that depends on your perspective about what is a whole and healthy life. Someone in a wheelchair can live a whole healthy life if they have a good attitude, care about others and are basically happy and thankful for the life they have. But that does not mean they will lose the wheelchair?
So, with having said all of that I hope I have answered your questions a bit Denise.
I am really glad you asked me these things and I hope you will continue to ask me in the future if you have other questions. I will do my best to answer them. And that goes for anyone else out there.
I will try and go into this more deeply at a later time because there is still a lot I do not understand. I have been told that some of the alters are demons and were put inside of us during extreme ritual trauma, that may be true but I am still trying to understand that a but more…. I am not 100% sure and I do not want to say I believe that when I am not sure. I think it could be true because anyone can have demons not just multiples. I have also been told that all alters are demons…I 100% do not believe that at all. I also do not believe that a multiple needs some deliverance minister to heal them. I have never seen anyone healed from satanic ritual abuse by a so called deliverance minister. I am talking about the guys who say you have to have hands laid on you and demons called out etc. and you have to say certain prayers, a certain way and all of that. If someone wants to lay hands on you to pray for you please be sure you know them well and can trust them completely. Otherwise, do not let anyone lay hands on you.
Those people are dangerous and can put things in you and do things to you that can harm, not heal. So beware…. Especially the multiples that have a lot of programming, these people can trigger those programs and cause a lot more problems.
The only way I have seen any multiples get any kind of real healing is by developing a personal relationship with the real Savior Jesus Christ and letting Him speak to your heart and heal you in His slow, gentle loving way.
Some update material….this has to do with the chem-trail stuff, one of my dear brothers sent me this link and as I said I would I will be posting any new info I am sent on this subject as I believe this has a lot to do with our memory problems.
So here it is…
And he also sent this cool gardening site link for those of you out there who are getting your stuff together and have a place to garden…
Keep the info coming folks, this is about informing and helping each other…..
I Have had several of you out there asking specific questions about DID/MPD, so I thought I would try and get a little information about it so maybe it might make it a little easier to understand.
Now this info came with the only answer to helping with this is by taking meds, working with the mental health system and years of psycho therapy etc. since I am very skeptical about that I left that part out of this article, however: that is my opinion from my personal experience, I am not telling anyone who is using these methods to stop. Everyone is responsible for their own decisions about what is best for them. I am just trying to inform and educate. I do not have all of the answers; my story is about what has worked for me and what did not. It has been a process for me and a very long one but I want to give hope and encouragement to others in their process of healing.
So with saying all of that here is an article I thought would help with the basic mechanic’s of DID/MPD. I do not agree with everything in this article especially the stats etc. but it has a basic over view.
Later I plan to give more information on the Monarch/MK Ultra programming I was involved in as well as posting more information of how mind control is being done in the main stream on the populace.
Dissociative Identity Disorder (Multiple Personality Disorder)
Dissociative identity disorder (previously known as multiple personality disorder) is a fairly common effect of severe trauma during early childhood, usually extreme, repetitive physical, sexual, and/or emotional abuse.
What is dissociative identity disorder?
Most of us have experienced mild dissociation, which is like daydreaming or getting lost in the moment while working on a project. However, dissociative identity disorder is a severe form of dissociation, a mental process, which produces a lack of connection in a person's thoughts, memories, feelings, actions, or sense of identity. Dissociative identity disorder is thought to stem from trauma experienced by the person with the disorder. The dissociative aspect is thought to be a coping mechanism -- the person literally dissociates himself from a situation or experience that's too violent, traumatic, or painful to assimilate with his conscious self.
Is dissociative identity disorder real?
You may wonder if dissociative identity disorder is real. After all, understanding the development of multiple personalities is difficult, even for highly trained experts. But dissociative identity disorder does exist. It is the most severe and chronic manifestation of the dissociative disorders that cause multiple personalities.
Other types of dissociative disorders defined in the DSM-IV, the main psychiatry manual used to classify mental illnesses, include dissociative amnesia, dissociative fugue, and depersonalization disorder.
What are the symptoms of dissociative identity disorder?
Dissociative identity disorder is characterized by the presence of two or more distinct or split identities or personality states that continually have power over the person's behavior. With dissociative identity disorder, there's also an inability to recall key personal information that is too far-reaching to be explained as mere forgetfulness. With dissociative identity disorder, there are also highly distinct memory variations, which fluctuate with the person's split personality.
The "alters" or different identities have their own age, sex, or race. Each has his or her own postures, gestures, and distinct way of talking. Sometimes the alters are imaginary people; sometimes they are animals. As each personality reveals itself and control's the individuals' behavior and thoughts, it's called "switching." Switching can take seconds to minutes to days. When under hypnosis, the person's different "alters" or identities may be very responsive to the therapist's requests.
Along with the dissociation and multiple or split personalities, people with dissociative disorders may experience any of the following symptoms:
· Mood swings
· Suicidal tendencies
· Sleep disorders (insomnia, night terrors, and sleep walking)
· Anxiety, panic attacks, and phobias (flashbacks, reactions to stimuli or "triggers")
· Alcohol and drug abuse
· Compulsions and rituals
· Psychotic-like symptoms (including auditory and visual hallucinations)
· Eating disorders
Other symptoms of dissociative identity disorder may include headache, amnesia, time loss, trances, and "out of body experiences." Some people with dissociative disorders have a tendency toward self-persecution, self-sabotage, and even violence (both self-inflicted and outwardly directed). As an example, someone with dissociative identity disorder may find themselves doing things they wouldn't normally do such as speeding, reckless driving, or stealing money from their employer or friend, yet they feel they are being compelled to do it. Some describe this feeling as being a passenger in their body rather than the driver. In other words, they truly believe they have no choice.
What's the difference between dissociative identity disorder and schizophrenia?
Schizophrenia and dissociative identity disorder are often confused, but they are very different.
Schizophrenia is a severe mental illness involving chronic (or recurrent) psychosis, characterized mainly by hearing or seeing things that aren't real (hallucinations) and thinking or believing things with no basis in reality (delusions). People with schizophrenia do not have multiple personalities. Delusions are the most common psychotic symptom in schizophrenia; hallucinations, particularly hearing voices in the person's head, are apparent in about half of people. Â Â
Suicide is a risk with both schizophrenia and dissociative identity disorder, although patients with multiple personalities have a history of suicide attempt more often than other psychiatric patients.
How does dissociation change the way a person experiences life?
There are several main ways in which the psychological processes of dissociative identity disorder change the way a person experiences living, including the following:
· Depersonalization. This is a sense of being detached from one's body and is often referred to as an "out-of-body" experience.
· Derealization. This is the feeling that the world is not real or looking foggy or far away.
· Amnesia. This is the failure to recall significant personal information that is so extensive it cannot be blamed on ordinary forgetfulness. There can also be micro-amnesias where the discussion engaged in is not remembered, or the content of a meaningful conversation is forgotten from one second to the next.
· Identity confusion or identity alteration. Both of these involve a sense of confusion about who a person is. An example of identity confusion is when a person sometimes feels a thrill while engaged in an activity (e.g., reckless driving, DUI, alcohol or drug abuse) which at other times would be revolting. In addition to these apparent alterations, the person may experience distortions in time, place, and situation.
It is now acknowledged that these dissociated states are not fully-mature personalities, but rather they represent a disjointed sense of identity. With the amnesia typically associated with dissociative identity disorder, different identity states remember different aspects of autobiographical information. There is usually a host personality within the individual, who identifies with the person's real name. Ironically, the host personality is usually unaware of the presence of other personalities.
What roles do the different personalities play?
The distinct personalities may serve diverse roles in helping the individual cope with life's dilemmas. For instance, there's an average of two to four personalities present when the patient is initially diagnosed. Then there's an average of 13 to 15 personalities that can become known over the course of treatment. While unusual, there have been instances of dissociative identity disorder with more than 100 personalities. Environmental triggers or life events cause a sudden shift from one alter or personality to another.
Who gets dissociative identity disorder?
While the causes of dissociative identity disorder are still vague, research indicates that a combination of environmental and biological factors work together to cause it. As many as 98% to 99% of individuals who develop dissociative disorders have recognized personal histories of recurring, overpowering, and often life-threatening disturbances at a sensitive developmental stage of childhood (usually before age 9). Dissociation may also happen when there has been insistent neglect or emotional abuse, even when there has been no overt physical or sexual abuse. Findings show that in families where parents are frightening and unpredictable, the children may become dissociative.
How is dissociative identity disorder diagnosed?
Making the diagnosis of dissociative identity disorder takes time. It's estimated that individuals with dissociative disorders have spent seven years in the mental health system prior to accurate diagnosis. This is common, because the list of symptoms that cause a person with a dissociative disorder to seek treatment is very similar to those of many other psychiatric diagnoses. In fact, many people who have dissociative disorders also have secondary diagnoses of depression, anxiety, or panic disorders.
The DSM-IV provides the following criteria to diagnose dissociative identity disorder:
1. Two or more distinct identities or personality states are present, each with its own relatively enduring pattern of perceiving, relating to and thinking about the environment and self.
2. At least two of these identities or personality states recurrently take control of the person's behavior.
3. The person has an inability to recall important personal information that is too extensive to be explained by ordinary forgetfulness.
4. The disturbance is not due to the direct physiological effects of a substance (such as blackouts or chaotic behavior during alcohol intoxication) or a general medical condition (such as complex partial seizures).
Are there famous people with dissociative identity disorder?
Famous people with dissociative identity disorder include retired NFL star Herschel Walker, who says he's struggled with dissociative identity disorder for years but has only been treated for the past eight years.
Walker recently published a book about his struggles with dissociative identity disorder, along with his suicide attempts. Walker talks about a feeling of disconnect from childhood to the professional leagues. To cope, he developed a tough personality that didn't feel loneliness, one that was fearless and wanted to act out the anger he always suppressed. These "alters" could withstand the abuse he felt; other alters came to help him rise to national fame. Today, Walker realizes that these alternate personalities are part of dissociative identity disorder, which he was diagnosed with in adulthood.
How common is dissociative identity disorder?
Statistics show the rate of dissociative identity disorder is .01% to 1% of the general population. Still, more than 1/3 of people say they feel as if they're watching themselves in a movie at times, and 7% percent of the population may have undiagnosed dissociative disorder.
I got this article at the site below....
I have been feeling kind of in a funk the last few days. I think it is a combination of the cold weather and cabin fever. Anyway it has been hard to me to sit and write as my fingers are having a time staying warm. I am not sleeping very well either and have not slept very well for several weeks and with this cold weather I have been hitting the couch so I can keep the wood stove stoked through out the night. I figured since I was not sleeping so good I might as well delegate myself to stove duty. So with a sleep deprived brain I shall try and write something worthy or your time to read.
One thing about not sleeping I have a chance to catch up on praying and I also get a chance to think a lot about what I want to write on eventually.
I have thought about continuing where I left off on my story but in truth now is where my story is. I mean right now is part of my healing and is part of the things I am learning and trying to overcome and help others with.
It seems everyday brings new things to learn, new insights to ponder and another step toward where I am going. I had a couple of interesting dreams a few years ago that I think might have been preludes to where I am going and I want to share them with you all.
Any insights and comments would be appreciated. My dear brother Nathan Spotted Hawk, whom I have not heard from for a very long time, gave me some interesting insights a few years back.
I was being stalked by the enemy, relentlessly,
day and night. My whole life was one of
being tortured, abused and used by the enemy.
I was so very tired….
I remember being so tired of running and always
hiding from the enemy.
I had but one place where I always felt safe and
at peace. It was a room in a tree,
Like a tree house.
I left a message for the enemy. I told him I was
tired of running and always hiding.
If he was so determined to destroy me then he was
to come to the tree. I was there
And he could do his worst.
It was dark, pitch black… I could not see my hand
in front of my face. I lay there waiting
for the enemy to come and do his worst. For some
reason I was not afraid but had a sense
of peace, of relief. I was just so tired. I
slept. I dreamed that the enemy was in my room
but did not touch me. Then I awoke….
I felt the tree groan and move with the weight of
the enemy climbing the tree trunk.
I knew I was in a place I could not run from. I
knew I was cornered. I thought in a
moment of terror about what I had done and what
may happen to me. Then I felt peace.
I remembered all the times in my life the enemy
had abused me yet he never defeated me.
My body may be torn apart and crushed but he
could never have me. My soul was safe.
It was pitch black and the enemy was at the door.
I lay there not moving, waiting…
Knowing I could not fight this fight anymore. I
was so tired. I felt relief that it was almost
End of Dream
Dream II 09-11-06
I was standing on a path in an unfamiliar
It was growing dusk as the sun had already set. I
remember at first feeling calm even
though I did not know where I was walking along
that path. Then suddenly I realized
the hour was late and night was upon me. I felt
the enemy near, reaching for me. I started
to run down the path. Even though I knew not
where this narrow path lead to, I knew to
stay on it and no matter what I saw on either
side to just focus on the path and run straight
I realized I had a container of salt in my hand,
it was open and if the enemy crossed my
path I knew I could throw it in his eyes and
blind him. Then I could run ahead and slow
him down in his pursuit. My only defense against
him was that salt. As I was running
along I started slowing down as I realized that
no matter how fast I ran the enemy would
always be near and wearing myself out by running
would not make a difference. As long
as I was in this countryside danger was going to
be all around and running would not
make a difference. It would only tire me.
I knew my only hope was faith… to keep the salt
in my hand and to stay on the path.
I knew my time on the path was going to end at
nightfall however, after that I would
Never have to feel the enemy near again,
I had a sense that GOD would slow the enemy but
then allow him to overtake me… but….
Not to be afraid, it was part of God’s plan.
End of Dream
I do not have a lot of very profound dreams… as a matter of fact I have only had these two and one other in the last three years. I knew these were important because of the intensity I felt during them and the urgency to record them when I woke up.
So with that I thought it was time to share them with you all…. Guess it has something to do with my lack of sleep…. : )
Here I go again thinking about things…..but since I have been thinking I assume someone out there cares…: ) . So, I decided to write about some things that have been on my mind as of late.
I have been watching and listening to people a lot lately. Some of these people I know, some are just people I am acquainted with, some are people I hear on the radio etc. and some are strangers I run into from time to time in my dealings with the everyday stuff.
One thing I have I have concluded is that none of us really have much of a clue about anything.
We all think we have a part in the truth but I am beginning to wonder if truth might not be more subjective then conclusive especially when it comes out of a human mouth.
I know in my life that every time I determine I might have something, somewhat figured out I find I am still pretty much as clueless as I was before. It seems that with every bit of information I uncover and discover I am finding only more mysteries and less answers.
I think when someone says they have stuff figured out, they have only convinced themselves of that because of the human need to be in control of our environment and anything less is and can not be tolerated.
I am not trying to put anyone down for their beliefs and realities because we all need those things to plow on through and make sense of a senseless world. But I find myself more and more intolerant of those who think they really have all the answers and have no room for thinking maybe outside their own comfortable box. If someone chooses to stay in their own box I have no issue with that, especially if they are harming no one else and can manage to care about someone besides themselves now and then. What I take issue with is when someone chooses to hurt others and have no compassion at all for others just because they do not think, feel, or believe a certain way.
I have often said that I am a follower of Jesus Christ because that has been the only thing that has ever made any sense to me and has worked for me. I have a strong faith and belief in that, however, as I follow this road called my life my perceptions of even my Savior have changed and taken different directions more then I could have ever thought in the beginning. My relationship with my Creator has changed and grown as well and the one thing I am beginning to discover is that the closer I get to Him the more I realize that He is so much more then I could ever think about, more then I ever imagined and more then I can comprehend in this limited brain I have. I can not put Him in a box marked religion because He is not a religion.
When I listen to people I often hear them say ‘God told me to do this, God told me to do that. God said this is going to happen, God said that is going to happen. I read the bible and God meant this and God meant that, etc.’ and these people may be right or they may be wrong but I really do not care what God has told them. All I care about is what I believe and feel He is telling me and being true to that part of my heart. I think that is what we all need to do, in that we need to be true to what we hear in our hearts and follow that voice, instinct or whatever but that still small voice we all have inside to do the right thing and to do the good things we need to do.
I know that we sometimes have to make choices in our lives that involve hurting others such as, defending our loved ones when they are in danger or defending our own lives at times or the lives of others especially the innocents. But when it comes to hurting others because you are just looking out for number one, cheating, stealing, lying etc that is just plain wrong and when we give our word on something that should mean something and be an honorable thing.
We need to deal with the consequences when we blow it or make poor choices and not blame others for those choices but go on and learn a thing or two so we do not make the same mistakes. We all need to learn to forgive not that we will always forget but forgive none the less. Let the ones who have hurt us or used us deal with the consequences of what they did to us and others. I do believe that there is a payday for all those who live their lives hurting and taking and destroying other lives.
I may be naive but I do believe you will die by how you lived your life no matter what you think or believe or what religion you might belong to.
These are just some things I have been thinking about because as of late I have seen and heard a lot of people talking about ‘change’ and some think any change is good, some think all change is bad and some do not give a damn about anything at all, they just want what they think they should have because they want it.
I think some people are evil to the core and will always be evil but I do not think all people are evil, I think most are just people trying to make sense of a crazy world and trying to get by and I think we often forget to look at others with compassion and humanity because of the things we see and hear on TV or from pre conceived ideas we have about other cultures etc. through our own limited boxes we live in.
I do not know if any of this has made any sense but in conclusion all I can say is….
Try and have a little more compassion, try and listen to your heart instead of what others are telling you, and if you listen to what others are telling you weight it with your heart before you jump on anyone else’s band wagon. Use your mind and think for yourself and do not let anyone tell you what you need to believe and think…. especially not me.
Try giving instead of always taking and when you give do it with an open heart not expecting anything in return. Take the time to listen to someone, anyone and really hear what they are saying with out judging them. You don’t have to agree, all you have to do is listen.
I am finding a whole other world out there by trying to do these things and by listening to my heart and not what others always think and believe.
Thanks for taking the time to listen to me…..
I have not written much in the last few days and truthfully I have not much felt like writing. I try not to write just for the sake of writing. I try and write when I have something to say.
I am not sure I have a lot to say today but there are a few things on my heart however, and I am having a very hard time trying to make a lot of sense out of those things and putting them into words.
One thing I have been hearing from with a lot of different people is really becoming a thorn in my side. Not because they are telling me this but because others can be so insensitive to them.
For example: A lot of time as humans, all we need is for someone to listen to us rant or cry or whatever when we are having a bad time of it. It does not matter what is causing the bad time the thing is, sometimes we just need someone to listen with out making any judgments and just be a sounding board for our pain and or frustrations. That is all we need period, some compassion. But, what I am seeing and hearing is not any of that at all.
OK, like let’s say you have had a bad week at work and some people really hurt you and took advantage of you. You get through the week but you are stressed and tired and all you really want to do is vent, maybe cry and then go on. But what you get is this ‘ Well at least you should be thankful you have a job, a lot of people would love to have your problems as they do not have a job and can not feed their families…blah,blah,blah,,,,etc.’
Now have you said anything about not being grateful for your job? No. Have you said anything about having worse problems then Joe Doe down the street? No.
All you wanted was a little compassion and support to get through the moment so you can shore up and go onto the next week, or thing or whatever….all your so called ‘friend’ managed to do was make you feel worse then you already did and make you feel stupid for even having any bad days, feelings or whatever and then you are scared to ever even tell anyone how you feel again.
Does anyone get what I am trying to say? I have heard this over and over from people and it makes me really angry that people can be so insensitive to others. I pray I do not do that to anyone and if I do they will call me on it. I have had that happen to me more times then I can count as well and it always makes it very hard for me to trust again another time to open up to anyone.
Oh I know some out there will tell me, Judy you just need to talk to God…. Well I do and I am sure a lot of you out there do as well and that is not the point. We are human and there really are times we need a human ear and a human touch and a human friend. No dissing God on this one because that is how He made us.
So, for all of you out there who have trusted me enough to confide, rant, cry and yeah even complain at times….never apologize to me for it. Please never think you are taking up my valuable time, because I consider you valuable. I pray there are a few out there who feel the same way about me as well, because we are in this together and isn’t that what we are suppose to be about? Caring for and helping each other?
So that is all for today, I hope I said this clearly enough to understand and be taken in the heart and manner I meant it in.
It has been pretty weird weather wise as of late and I feel pretty grateful to still have my electric up as a lot of people in my state do not. That may change by tonight but I pray not. I must confess I am a wimp in a lot of ways and want to enjoy the comforts of electricity as long as possible.
During this brief yet intense weather storm I have been contemplating a few things. Like that is new for me, HA! Anyway I have been thinking about how in the last few years I have read and heard many people supposedly say that God told them this and God told them that about things that are suppose to come and were suppose to come that will devastate our way of life and how we should all be worried preparing frantically as time is almost up.
Well as I was watching my critters during this storm while I was feeding them etc. I noticed that they were not the least concerned about the days a head. They had complete faith that I would continue to feed them, water them and clean their homes and make them as comfortable as I could.
They were not on the Internet, or listening to the radio and trying to find out what might happen and frantically preparing. Even the critters in the wild were not doing that. They were all doing what they do every day, trusting their maker to take care of them. That does not mean they were not doing anything. The wild creatures were out getting food and water here and there and when the rain/ice is falling they have enough sense to get somewhere safe and wait it out. They have complete faith that it will end but if it does not they do not seem concerned in the least. They seem to have a quiet faith and commune with their Maker and I have no doubt that they can hear His voice when He speaks to them so that when they are in danger they will heed and get into a safe place.
Some of them will not make it in time and some will die and some will live long lives. They do not seem concerned with their lifespan; they only seem concerned with living the life they are given in the moment and communing with their Maker.
Wow what a lesson we can learn with them. As I listen and read all the warnings from so called Watchman on the Walls…. I am beginning to wonder if they even know how to hear that quiet voice of their Maker and know how to really live the life they have been given in the quiet way I believe He intended, with faith and trust and thanksgiving for what they already have. I wonder if they have found any peace in the fact that if they live a long life or a short one that they lived it in Him and through Him and not in a panicked state worrying about how long it might be before all hell breaks loose.
OK, so what if all hell does break loose? What can we realistically do about it? What has anyone really even been able to do about disasters of any kind? They do the best they can when the time comes and trust in their faith and strength to get by. Some will die, that is a fact. Some will survive but barely and some will forge a head and start over.
Someone might say to me ‘but I read the bible and it says the end times are coming and all these bad things are going to happen and etc..etc….’or 'I have read the prophecies of the ancients and things will end in 2012' Well that may be true I am not arguing that point, what I am saying is has there ever really been a time when things were easy and OK and stuff was not hitting the fan somewhere on this planet and effecting someone? Have not the end times been a reality for some people everyday of their lives?
If you have ever dealt with a major illness in you or someone you love that is an end time situation for you at that time. Have you ever lost a job and lost your home and lived in a car or under a bridge that is an end time situation for you. Have you ever been abused or persecuted in anyway that is an end time situation for you.
When I was growing up and being used and abused and shocked and probed and experimented on…. Hey that was the end times for me. I had no idea if I would even make it the next hour much less another day, week, or year.
So what I am trying to say here is, please put things in perspective.
Yes our economy is failing, yes it looks like some serious global changes are imminent and yes there are any number of situations on the brink of exploding and causing us major life changes. They could all be your end times, my end times and everyone’s end times however, what is your faith in? Is you faith in the end times? Or is it in something much bigger? Are you living to die or dieing to live? Or are you just plain living and being thankful you can? Do you have trust in your Maker like the critters and take each breath with communion and thankfulness in Him?
I am not the smartest or wisest person on the planet but I do know, I want to be more like the critters.
Matthew 6: 25-34
25Therefore I tell you, stop being [v]perpetually uneasy (anxious and worried) about your life, what you shall eat or what you shall drink; or about your body, what you shall put on. Is not life greater [in quality] than food, and the body [far above and more excellent] than clothing?
26Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father keeps feeding them. Are you not worth much more than they?
27And who of you by worrying and being anxious can add one unit of measure (cubit) to his stature or to the [w]span of his life?(B)
28And why should you be anxious about clothes? Consider the lilies of the field and [x]learn thoroughly how they grow; they neither toil nor spin.
29Yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his [y]magnificence (excellence, dignity, and grace) was not arrayed like one of these. [I Kings 10:4-7.]
30But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and green and tomorrow is tossed into the furnace, will He not much more surely clothe you, O you of little faith?
31Therefore do not worry and be anxious, saying, What are we going to have to eat? or, What are we going to have to drink? or, What are we going to have to wear?
32For the Gentiles (heathen) wish for and crave and diligently seek all these things, and your heavenly Father knows well that you need them all.
33But seek ([z]aim at and strive after) first of all His kingdom and His righteousness ([aa]His way of doing and being right), and then all these things [ab]taken together will be given you besides.
34So do not worry or be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will have worries and anxieties of its own. Sufficient for each day is its own trouble.