I am writing I think out of obligation.
It has been a rough time to be sure.
After living in the cages until I was 5 when not being horrified when out of the cages. Having my twin sister, my two brothers and Page who was a 10 year old who took care of me and my siblings in the cages being murdered I was out of the cages and spend some time with my family or origin. I went to first grade a month late as I turned 6 in October.
I was told by my first grade teacher to put my head on the desk as it was nap time. I went under my chair and she touched me. I freaked and so did she. Then she blamed me. She apparently in her egocentric teacher experience had never seen a child who grew up in cages be woken up.
I was sent in another room and told to sit in a chair. I could not as I was physically exhausted. I tried and I had a lot of experience with being punished. I feel out of the chair and was knocked out. I guess I am not jut writing our of obligation. Smile.
My bowels released and I laid on the floor unconscious. I was brought to with smelling salts. Ammonia nitrate was familiar to me. It was often used to revive me so I could be put in more pain. Some of the traffickers and there customers used it when having organism. I came to and of course assumed I was to be put in more pain. Pretty much sometimes I looked like an animal. I have seen this in other children and adults who were being tortured or killed.
I was soiled and told to go home and change. This was a 1/2 mile walk to my house and then 1/2 mile back. I should not have been walking. I should have been in a hospital with a saline solution and oxygen.
I made it home. Was yelled at by my mother and slapped when I feel down unconscious again. It is important to know I was used to this.
I walked back to school and had missed lunch. It was in a bag uneaten and I did not dare ask for it. I made it to the end of school then walked back to my house. I was not allowed to sleep. The educator in all her wisdom determined that I needed to learn to stay awake. Even with the torture and such the abusers would get tired and I would sleep. Sometimes they just passed out and I could sleep.
This lead to be being kept awake so I would sleep at night. This was a huge huge adjustment for my body and after I had learned somewhat what it was like to heal when having sun and some food.
I was also somewhat free of extreme trauma until the Christmas break. So my body was able to adapt to this non sleeping but having sun and food.
In part this was my mother and father blaming me. In a way it was a transfer to the teachers instead of the governments behavioral scientists even though they and the traffickers/cults worked hand in hand. My mother could hear the clap trap of the teachers and absolve herself of any responsibility.
Understand I had zero experience with any normal social interaction so school in itself was a nightmare. It did not help that I had been taught pretty much everything that was taught through the third grade by Page before was murdered.
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There are many reasons we could not get to this until now. One of them was we needed a year of no sun deprivation, that my mother raped me was another. We had been close often. Even outside of therapy we had been close. Think is our reptilian brain when ever we got close told us to get up and get going. Even though my first grade teacher and my mother we not killers there was no way my reptilian brain would know this.
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So how did I get to this finally. Through self directed therapy with a therapist that understands she will never understand. That being said an error was made years ago. First I need to go over the un-directed expressive therapy.
As we have written we could “see” one off to the right in a chair. Only his left side and he was usually off to the right although sometimes he was off to the left with the chair turned around. Sometimes we could only see the chair and sometimes only see part of the chair. We could see it in detail in our photographic mind and even look at it from different angles.
We went to therapy and our therapist has small folding chairs. We took one and put it on the right of us between her and I. Then put it on the left and then the one from the chair using the one ones that gets along good with the gypsy dancer voice was able to express and briefly reach out and touch our therapists hand. That was two weeks ago and we have been “struggling” ever since. Actually 10 days. We are still worn out.
When in the second grade I started going to the MKULTRA camps. Sometimes being shipped in a box in a diabetic coma. This stopped when I was 10 and the Mkultra stuff stopped. The program was shut down due to lack of funding. It was set up that it would end when I was 10. Why it is important the the funding ran out is the the traffickers/cult cleaned up after the program and that meant some people were murdered. The traffickers made up some of the lost income from not having any government contracts with prostitution. I was also sold to a judge in NJ.
I never had a chance to learn how to sleep at all until I one summer. My father went to get his educators masters. Note: not a real degree. I am always surprised that people do not understand that the courses a teacher takes are not applicable to a real degree. If you have teachers math you can not apply that to a engineering or science degree etc. Least in the US.
Wrote this poem
“Gone Missing”
My Heart is Gone Missing.
Not Broken.
Not Shattered.
Not Hardened.
Nor Black.
Gone Missing.
So that is as far as I have got with my narrative. There are still big parts missing.
We could have got to this work by drawing the chair. That would have been to intense.
So this is one way it got all messed up. I tried to do the chair thing with my therapist. She jumped to the idea that what I was doing was having someone in the chair that was not there to talk “at” them. This is a method in directed therapy. That was years ago. What happens when something gets messed up it we keep going. Otherwise we would just process everything from birth to present. We will do that it jut has to be in bits and pieces. Might be different if we had not had so much therapy that was qualified but not competent.
Now we need to recover and start all over. Nothing for it. It is getting easier which means we get to do more work. My mother raping me is a lot of work. She is a sick sick person.