Under the shadow of the Dark of the Moon feels like an appropriate time to bring out something that is missing from the discussion of pedophilia: those of us who are it’s run-of-the-mill victims. Yes, there are the horrifyingly vomitous, near-sensational books by Susan Ford and others, these are disgusting and perhaps not even rare severe cases of pedophilia, sex slavery and ritual abuse. I used to look at Michael Jackson and think, “yeah, something must have happened to you too, even worse than me.” Poor soul, what a beautiful artist he was, for being so sick against his own will. And that describes it, we, the secret survivors (taken from the liberating book of the same name), are sick against our will. Those of us who suffered the occasional groping by a relative or neighbor, or the repeated rape by a father/brother/ uncle, etc., are only slightly less maladjusted than our more well-known counterparts. We are, generally speaking, seemingly normal humans, going about our everyday lives. The degree of sickness is usually proportional to the degree and repetition of the abuse that was suffered, but in the end it is all a huge stain on the soul. This dark stain permeates our culture as it permeates our entire being. How do you get rid of it? I see so many alternative news articles, blogs et al, that ask the question “Why don’t we stand up and do something about this? Why haven’t we thrown off these controllers?” What’s wrong with this picture? I believe I may have part of the answer, as a victim of violence and repeated sexual abuse as a child (which set me up for a lifetime of it). Pedophilia is the cornerstone of how our entire civilization has been so controlled for so long. It is such a shameful notion that no one wants to admit to having been through it. And I believe it is much harder for men to admit to such persecution.
After nearly thirty years of different kinds of therapy, I finally found someone who cared enough to help me get free. He remains a friend to this day, though I spent a lot of time yelling at him when he’d insist that I look at things we’d unearthed during hypnosis. He kept saying to me: There’s nothing wrong with you! Long before any of this happened, you were a fine person and you still are. Stand up for yourself, step out of the victim pattern. I was, and still am to a degree, sure that there must be something bad about me for all these dreadful things to have happened to me. The Law of Attraction and the Law of Karma are just more bogus guilt trips to entrap us here for the amusement of these psychopaths. This is MUCH harder than it looks, believe me, to actually feel that you’re just OK. The point that I wish to make here is that we are all operating in a victim mode of some stripe. Statistics show (and they are surely too low) that fully 80% of females in the world have been sexually abused in some way. The statistics for men are not easy to get, but my suspicion grows stronger every day that at least 50% of men have been sexually abused as well. Look at these stories coming out about the children in Wales, in Canada, the Franklin Scandal, Boys Town, Oh my God! In my humble opinion and from my perspective, this is why and how we have all been so controlled and have such a difficult time breaking free: Mommy and Daddy (whatever you perceive them to be) won’t love me any more. Our parents are gods to us when we are children, and the abused get a very skewed view of love from the get-go. If it’s true love, then it’s gotta hurt, right? My father began molesting me when I was only 18 months old (according to my memories from hypnosis), and eventually my vicious, narcissistic mother actually helped him. Ick. The only conscious memory I have of the abuse is from a time when I was 12 and finally strong enough to fight both of them off. I discovered that they would try these horrid things when they’d been drinking, so I was much faster than them, though I couldn’t lock my bedroom door. My father wasn’t really interested in girls past puberty, so after I put up a fight he started a control/money game that lasted until I was 30 years old. You read that right: unbeknownst to me at the time, he controlled all my therapists and counselors, including the shrink that he sent me to when I was 16. This scumbag, Dr. Lieberman (helluva name) would make me drink a brown liquid before every appointment that got me very, very high and disoriented. He would then help himself to my person in very perverted ways, but I didn’t remember for a long, long time. My friends tell me I still have a problem with anger. Ya think?! I doubt my dad paid him for my “therapy”, it was probably the other way around. But I didn’t remember any of it for a span of years, had another therapist put it together for me with hypnosis when I was in my 30’s. Yeah, my thirties.
So…I have a dissociative disorder: when someone I love or trust is cruel to me I immediately box it up in a place inside my head and forget that it is there. Seriously. Whole swaths of my childhood before age twelve are still a blank, and this is not unusual for incest survivors who have not been otherwise altered, as in the case of the mind-controlled ritual abuse survivors. There are many forms of mind control, and I have not yet, at age 60, been able to completely transcend the core of my constant orders to make like a clam. I now joke about my relationships with men; I keep going for the same guy, different hair: the most controlling, manipulative and abusive guy I can find, usually accompanied by alcoholism. Now I find that it can stain us genetically, in our epigenetic field. This is generational and fouls up most of our close relationships in this world. This does reach across my entire family, either “abuse or be abused”. My niece, an only child of normal spoiled brat status, came to visit me for our birthdays, her 18th. I took her to see a show on Broadway, even though I was still unable to climb stairs without help, due to multiple abdominal surgeries. As the seats were in the stratosphere, she promised to help me get up there. While shopping on the way to the theatre, we had an incident in Chinatown: she stole a parking space from a Chinese woman who shrieked curses at us. I calmly took the keys and moved the car, to do the right thing. I also prefer to be able to continue to do business in that very small, Asian world, if you take my meaning. This apparently infuriated my niece so much that when we got to the final flight of stairs to our theatre seats, she dropped my hand and walked up the steep railless steps and sat down, not looking at me. I was forced to crawl on my hands and knees to get to our seats, in front of everyone. I was mortified. Did I yell at her? No, I immediately made myself think that it didn’t happen. I wasn’t even pretending that everything was fine, in my mind it never happened. This is classic dissociation, worse than a knee-jerk reaction. My niece then began a campaign of terror against me, messing up my house right before a real estate appointment, things like that. This resulted in me turning my back on her, but I never did speak with her about her cruelty, which she inherited from my mother, because I didn’t remember what happened for well over a year. For me, that was rather quick, actually, to have my memory kick in.
As a species, our memories have been suppressed, at the very least, but we don’t know how much. You want to talk about “cognitive dissonance”? We have all, the victims of pedophilia, been trained from a very young age to not “rock the boat”. It’s not hard to teach that, children will believe what the big people tell them. We are also severely traumatized as a species, and not just from pedophilia. Yes, I have read the theories of reptilians and other species oppressing and repressing us, but that is not the focus of what I wish to convey. Perhaps I am hoping for a personal catharsis as well as a pan-global splash of cold water: WE must stop blaming ourselves for the horrid things that are going on to humans, animals and the planet. There is, was, nothing wrong with us before all this started. I don’t know when it started, I don’t really know the details of who, or what, or which dimension it comes from. I don’t really need to know anymore, even with my impaired memory, my “anger issues” and my stained soul I can tell you this: After working the full 8-month cleanup period at Ground Zero, playing live music for the workers, I saw the best of humanity come there in droves, myself included, to beat down those doors to help. People were aching to help and would go to great lengths to find a way to “do good”. Those of us who wish to be are all good people, deep down. We have innate abilities that would boggle our minds: “All these things and more, shall you do” said Jesus, well, he must have been right. Think about it: why is so much money, time, energy, etc., being spent on keeping us down? Poison in the air, the food, the water, the fabrics we wear, the soaps, the fuel, radiation in the cell phones, radiation at the airport, government-sanctioned molestation at the airport, the music is at the wrong frequency, everything! Why are the pedophile rings and perpetrators the most protected people on the planet? Why do people die when exposing these sick pieces of feces? Why??? Because that’s how they keep us down, accepting rape by the TSA, we’ve been accepting rape for MILLENIA. It’s ingrained in us, and I believe that the only way to rid ourselves of the hesitation we all have, is to shout it out! Shout them down, rout them out, prosecute them, tell all, git ‘er done! Because we’re really, truly a wonderful species. We must be quite a prize if all this is being used against us. I may have relationship issues, health issues and all that: but it is against my will. I’m 60 and I haven’t quit trying to get better, and I am better. I will stand up for my fellow humans and the children of rape. I take their hands, I’ve done it for years as a teacher, and I say to them: you’re really OK, did you know that? Even if I don’t yet feel OK, YOU DO NOT HAVE TO TAKE ABUSE IN ORDER TO BE LOVED.