Like many mind control subjects, I have been discredited all of my life – to set a foundation in the event I remember too much and begin to speak.
This began in my childhood, as I explain in this video:
Like many mind control subjects, I have been discredited all of my life – to set a foundation in the event I remember too much and begin to speak.
This began in my childhood, as I explain in this video:
Earliest memories: Disappointment – as if, in her earliest years, she remembered other lives to compare to this one.
“This can’t work,” she’d thought, looking down the empty hallway where she wasn’t allowed, where her parents were. She remembered more, not of any one thing, but of everything she’d experienced so far in this life. “This can’t make healthy humans,” she’d have said if she’d had the language. It was worse than she’d imagined, and she worried for this era of humanity and thought this lifetime was going to be an especially difficult one.
Indeed, her family in the multiple dimensions retrieved her regularly away to nourish her spirit, revive her, then return her, feeling loved and willing to meet the challenges. She never remembered anything about her family over there, no images, no arrangement of people, nothing but the knowledge that they loved her, things made sense there, but not in this culture at this time, and she had to be strong.
One time, however, when she was perhaps 5, she returned with distressing news: They wouldn’t retrieve her again for “a very long time.” They’d be watching, and helping, but they couldn’t retrieve her, and she’d have to just remember they were there for her. She felt like a rock, immobilized, afraid to be afraid, so she was still. Then she remembered: Be brave. They’re watching and caring, even if it doesn’t feel like it. They just can’t help me all the time.
For a short while, she was comforted and advised by a little angel child she called Cathy, who appeared to her now and then – on her own schedule, never summoned, no matter how much she was requested, and one day even that ended.
In her fifties and sixties, she met psychics, shamans, and medicine people who remarked on the helpers they could see surrounding her, and sometimes she could see others noticing them, but she herself never did.
More times than she could count, they healed her when they could – rarely when she cried out, prayed, or did ritual, but on some schedule of their own she could never discern.
She might be disabled for as many as thirteen days, sunken into the sofa, not a decent meal eaten in weeks because she had no energy, and suddenly a beam would hit the top of her head and flow through her, enlarging every cell, requiring she adjust her body to allow it to expand, and she’d feel as if every cell inside her had been restored to perfection, and she’d suddenly have energy to do all the things she hadn’t been able to do, and she’d be immediately restored in seconds. It was thrilling. She always leaped to her toes and thanked her helpers – whoever they are, she’s never been sure how to visualize them – and began catching up with life, again, happy and grateful.
That’s how most people saw her: happy, friendly, even “popular,” someone said once, which made her laugh. She always felt like such a loner. As a child, she’d been the one standing by the fence, wondering what the other kids were doing that was called “play.” But she watched and copied, eventually learned to act like them, the best version of them, and it worked. As a child, it was wonderful to make people smile with her cleverness. Older, she learned to listen to others, became a student of communication, learned to carefully select her own stories to share, and eventually was surprised to find herself successful as a social individual and business woman.
Inside, though, she was hiding all these experiences that her culture said were not to be discussed, were not real. But they felt real. And there were so many of them. It was stressful to hide these things. Fortunately, books about shamans and mystics of all cultures confirmed these things are reality, only hidden from the masses, denied, and ridiculed by a culture that for some reason doesn’t want to acknowledge a more multi-dimensional world and our being part of it.
Then one day, the mundane facts of her life, real stuff, hard data, seemed to present a framework to explain her most bizarre memories and flashbacks. They emerged from some hidden place she’d shoved them, and assembled themselves into a coherent pattern.
She was born into lineages of Freemasons, military, Mormons, and Hollywood – all groups documented to have been involved in some type of mind control.
She was also born on an auspicious day – July 7, 1952. 07-07-52 “reduces” (numerology term) to 7-7-7, a highly mystical number. It also happened to be a Full Moon under which she was born. Not just within the 24-hour cycle that is the day, but within 8 minutes of the Full Moon’s moment of perfection – that’s within 2/1000ths of a degree. And it was a Monday – Moon-day, originally. And it was in the middle of Cancer, also known as Moon Child, “ruled by the Moon.” Three sevens, and three moons. There are secret societies keenly interested in coincidences like these.
Later the day of her birth, her father’s second cousin, Dwight David Eisenhower, was publicly nominated to the Republican ticket for the Presidential race. Perhaps a secret society also selected that day for his nomination?
Her parents were living in student housing on the campus of the University of California Davis. The next year, perhaps while she was still there or shortly afterward, The Human Ecology Project would be instituted there, which many researchers assert was a cover for mind control projects. Whether she was involved in any early experiments is not known, but it’s an intriguing coincidence.
She would come to believe the foundation for her mind control was overseen by Dr. Louis Jolyon (“Jolly”) West, an “institution” in MKULTRA, and someone she heard her mother and grandmother discuss; her pediatrician (who delivered her), Addison Udall (cousin of Congressman Stewart Udall who would become Secretary of the Interior); and the Mormon Church.
When her son was healing from cancer, the children and she had moved to a new apartment, and she was still working and seeing a therapist, she’d been asked to tell the therapist about her growing up. She’d begun by saying her childhood was “normal.” The following Saturday, with the kids visiting friends, she decided to use the rare private time to “ask inside” whether any “inner children” wanted to tell her anything more about her childhood she might have forgotten.
Suddenly, sitting on the edge of her bed, she re-experienced an event in which she lay on her back, too young yet to roll over. Human hands did things around her, and she felt freedom between her legs. Then touching, poking, then she left her body. First she saw her mother, slumped on the floor, hand over her mouth, eyes in shock and grief, then was looking down on three men in white, facing a pedestal in a white room, ignoring her mother on the floor.
No stainless steel, this wasn’t a medical environment, but a ritual one – making it more shocking to make sense of than otherwise. She’d hold this flashback in suspension for years, then one day learn the Mormons have a room called “The Holy of Holies” (phrase borrowed from the Hebrews’ Bible) in every Temple, in which they conduct secret ceremonies, wherein only certain Mormons are allowed to enter or even know what goes on there.
She’d learn also that Mormons are the largest denomination working for the Central Intelligence Agency, in which mind control has been managed for 60 years. And one of the foundational requirements of mind control is to split the mind, with torture, and the earlier in life, the better.
When she was four or five, she remembered some man, perhaps a Mormon missionary, counseling her father in their den while she played nearby, “Marry a Mormon woman, and you get the children too.” She wasn’t sure she knew what that meant, but suspected it was that stuff she wasn’t supposed to talk about, so she froze the memory, which came back to her one day after the out-of-body flashback. Later, she’d learn from Ann Diamond’s books on her mind control experiences, that one of the ways the CIA procured parental agreement to put and keep their children in the program was to catch (or create?) pedophiles and threaten them with prison. Perhaps the missionary set up her father, recorded a discussion, then police busted him and forced his agreement.
It’s also possible her father was molesting her before that missionary encouragement, because, when she was 3 or 4, she told her mother something that made her mother fly into a rage, hauling her into the bathroom, shoving a bar of soap in her mouth, and screaming that she could never say anything like that again. (What did she say? She can only guess.)
Then her mother told her pediatrician she thought her daughter was “crazy,” and she told her aunt and random people that came to the house. And she continued to discredit her daughter the rest of her life, questioning random memories she might contribute even to happy family story-telling around the table decades later. No matter how inconsequential, her mother was likely to interrupt her and deny whatever it was.
She paraphrased what the daughter had heard the pediatrician say: “I’ve always said you had an active imagination, and you mix up your dreams with memories.” Over and over again she heard those words. Even when she drew a floor plan of the Student Housing apartment at UC Davis, showing the entry room, front window, stove and range hood and sink, where the linoleum turned to carpet, and where an easy chair angled by a wall.
“You couldn’t remember that!” her mother denounced automatically, but with rare vehemence. “You were 14 months old when we moved away from there,” she gestured to the floor plan drawn on a napkin on the table.
“But you just confirmed I remember.” Her mother’s face contorted and she pushed her chair back from the dining table and walked toward a nearby picture window and looked out, reciting, “I’ve always said you had an active imagination, and you mix up your dreams with memories.”
Hearing this, the hair rose up on the back of her neck. It was the first time she recognized her mother was using the exact same words and the same sing-song lilt as if she’d practiced saying these words a thousands times to herself. The daughter was struck by her mother’s apparent fear, and felt suddenly terribly sorry for her. She must feel guilty for something. But what? She hadn’t remembered anything weird yet, had only struggled to understand what was wrong with her, and still believed she’d had a “normal,” even fortunate childhood – with lessons, vacations, even a swimming pool in the backyard. What in the world could her mother feel so guilty for?
What was the worst thing she could imagine? Certainly not violence. Sometime, in high frustration, maybe locking her in a closet? That was the worst thing she could imagine. And whatever it was, she shouldn’t feel bad about it all these years later! Too bad she can’t just admit it and say, “Yeah, parenthood can be frustrating!” And they could all agree, No problem, Mom, all’s forgiven. The daughter determined to try to have some sort of conversation with her mother sometime, to ease her mind, let her know she was fine, and her mother didn’t need to feel guilty about anything.
But they never had that conversation, and later the daughter would realize she wasn’t just fine. There were things done to her that hurt her, that caused all those strange gaps in her memory.
Other experiences in the Mormon Church, occasional, sporadic, would result in her vowing to “never go back there again.” But after they moved to Paradise Valley, Arizona, when she came home from school one day to see her mother talking to Mormon missionaries in the living room, she became paralyzed momentarily and thought ominously, “They found us.”
Her mother would occasionally announce they were being taken to church, and she would never object. At age thirteen, she was informed she would attend “MIA,” a Wednesday late afternoon class involving crafts and badges to go on bandelos they’d wear to those classes to show off their accomplishments – and her bandelo was always the most pathetic because she didn’t care. One evening in winter, when the building was dark and spooky, the girls were given lessons on the reality of the devil, Satan. The teacher gave her own testimony of seeing Satan pick up and throw a student at Brigham Young University against a wall. When her mother picked her up that night, asked about the class, and was told about the Satan stories, she asked – for the first time – if her daughter wanted to continue attending, to which she said No. It was the last time she ever walked consciously into a Mormon church.
Reviewing my old videos, I found this one in which I described having something odd slip from my sinus that I thought – in 2012 – to be the residue of an inoculation (not an injection but another sort of inoculation, by simply planting the pathogen in the sinus).
An inoculation against what? Could they have been planning for Covid that many years ago? (Yes.) Or was this a Covid experiment? Or something else entirely?
I really don’t know, but think this is very interesting now that we’re in the midst of a pandemic. And I have not been sick with Covid, though I do believe I got a very mild case in March 2020.
What else might it have been?
I describe a slew of crazy stuff in 18 months, concluding with this event – at about 11 minutes.
Thanks for watching. Thanks for caring and educating yourself.
May we all be strengthened on this crazy journey.
I recently began doing interviews again.
On The Cosmic Switchboard, James Bartley and I overview my life in 2 hours. (We plan another conversation soon.)
On RevolutionRadio/AquarianRadio, I have two interviews with Janet Lessin, another mind control subject, and her husband Dr. Sasha Lessin, a psychotherapist. As you’d expect, these interviews are more psychologically focused.
In the first, we spend two hours covering the strange events of my childhood and early adulthood: being ritually tortured, seeing inter-dimensional beings, experiencing strange events with Mormons, military, and individuals in high levels of government, being manipulated into a sorority and into sexually-themed roles in theater. (See a full discussion list below.)
In our second interview, we continue with two marriages to “handlers,” a “nervous breakdown”/spiritual crisis, decision to be a hermit, and introduction to the world of spirit and shamanism – which includes animal spirit encounters, gray aliens, reptilians, reptoids, and more. (See a full discussion list below.)
Our third interview will be next Saturday, November 8, at 5 pm PT, which you can listen to live on Aquarian Radio or YouTube/Aquarian Radio.
Hang in there, Everyone. While you’ve witnessed me in despair and other weak states over the years, I’m hanging in here, continually seeking meaning, continually seeking connection with extra-dimensional help, feeling stronger, and praying that my contributions to our understanding of this strange multidimensional world will also help you find understanding, Help, and eventually soul growth.
Lessin/AquarianRadio Part I:
0:02:55 Welcome, Dwight Eisenhower, suspected ancient secret society
0:05:30 Secret Societies: Masons, Military/CASU 33, Hollywood, Grandmother/probable early mind control subject
0:09:48 Birthday 7s and moons
0:12:50 UC Davis & Human Ecology Project
0:17:35 Multiple personality “alters” and triggering
0:21:40 Flashback to ritual with sexual torture
0:22:00 Left alone, never learned to play, Asperger’s Spectrum
0:23:40 Couriers, spies, martial arts, assassin, suicidal notions
0:31:30 Portals to other dimensions
0:35:00 2 years mind control programming intensive, age 6-8
0:38:20 Mormon advice to father
0:39:15 Flashback: “She’s getting old enough to remember”
0:39:50 MK still going on
0:40:20 Fear of Mormons, altered state experiences, ghosts, shadow being
0:42:15 Baton-twirling contest, terror on stage
0:43:00 Sexual performance nightmares
0:43:47 Ghosts v ETs
0:45:25 Sexual psy op, age 13
0:50:20 MK to develop sexual slaves for blackmail. “Crazy conspiracy theory”
0:55:10 Theater roles all sexual: stripper, prostitute, sexual spy
1:02:14 Dr. Sasha Lessin
1:03:06 Theater, sorority life, beauty pageants, prostitute role
1:20:25 How got strong
1:20:50 Last sexual role: sexual spy; joining and deactivating sorority
1:23:00 Initiation ceremony
1:25:00 Who’s orchestrating this?
1:26:34 Frightening hitchhiking event, marriage
1:32:20 Became mother, depressed, abused, hippie church, minister’s wife, houseparent, kids stolen
1:42:00 Student of radio and television, met second husband/handler, MK meeting
1:44:08 Handler definition and how it works
1:45:00 Constantly dealing with weirdness throughout life
1:47:09 Next show: Marriage manipulations, friends in prison and car-bombed, son with cancer, nervous breakdown, went from award-winning journalist and successful consultant to mess, husband angry at MK cartoon
1:55:00 JeanEisenhower.com, ParadigmSalon.net, RattlesnakeFire.com, YouTube.com/ParadigmSalonVideo.
Lessin/AquarianRadio Part II:
02:43 Jean Eisenhower resumes life history: marriage to handler
04:33 targeted after 2nd divorce, son’s cancer
07:50 University of Arizona – Master of Fine Arts, Creative Writing Non-Fiction – healing begins
10:00 First Shamanic experience of Wolf
12:50 Discover my multiple-ness in Mind Control, dissociation in trauma (“into the wallpaper”)
15:15 “Put trauma idea into box and into closet”
16:55 Move to my hermitage
19:10 Struggle with rational vs mystical
21:00 Star shamanism – Daughter of Isis, rationality, archetype, history of ancient Egypt
28:30 UFO on highway outside Bisbee, AZ
34:10 first draft of Rattlesnake Fire, MFA thesis
35:15 Next relationship – healing; real estate success
37:30 Inner assassin comes to fore
41:50 Colorado Springs with 5 military bases; healing relationship
46:00 Back to hermitage, Cochise County, straw bale home
48:50 experience re Pleiades – Am I from there??
52:50 stuck in dualism, childhood charges of crazy for childhood “imaginary friend”/angel
1:03:45 burn all journals re 2nd marriage, begin science journals Jan 1, 2000, all into database w 1200 data lines
1:06:45 Did they want me to be a hermit? (Maybe) I’m Asperger’s, so being in nature is more comfortable than being social
1:08:30 Alien encounters, lost community, “bad Jacketed,” FBI history
1:15:00 thyroid surgery scar on neck
1:16:54 tones from sky
1:17:47 UFOs swarming like fireflies (over White Sands?) with witnesses
1:19:40 Reptilian sex
1:21:30 military Reptilian in my teepee; connections to Ft. Huachuca; 2 friends’ stories confirm; question of Reptilian relationship
1:29:30 Theory of Reptilians vs Reptoids; Reptoid looking through my left eye (“Hulk routine”), then projected image in front of me; Reptoid child hovering in space
1:35:00 Why I’m not allowed to know – theory
1:36:40 My purpose – theory
1:38:00 Janet Lessin – shape-shifting story
1:43:50 Jumping ahead: Altered state w orange alien delivering message of humans not surviving; Sumerian, Genesis warning; thought MK
1:48:40 Highway stop, vaginal implant, laceration, professional photograpic proof
1:55:30: Closing. JeanEisenhower.com, RattlesnakeFire.com, ParadigmSalon.net.
Thanks for being there, Everyone ~
Last weekend, I was blessed to attend a gathering where I met people I trusted to tell my story – in a super-succinct manner I’ve never used before:
My ancestry is military, Masons, Mormons, and Hollywood; I was born into MKULTRA. I believe I have spiritual Help and spiritual responsibility, and I need healing and help to fulfill it.
Individuals responded, melted the frozen places in my heart, and helped me shake off the mind control that told me regularly I was powerless, totally trapped, and my death would be the only way out.
Ever since I wrote my book, began these blogs, and produced my first video, I’ve been severely attacked, psychically, spiritually, socially, electronically, financially, and even with a remote controlled crash on the highway.
I have also been regularly healed and blessed in various ways. I’ve had beams of healing energy pour through me, expanding shrunken cells and reviving weak energy flows. I’ve been unable to lift a water glass right beside me, then a few seconds after the healing beam, was so energized, I immediately went outside to move heavy items in the garden!
Many days I’ve struggled to keep the basics of life together, and often haven’t felt able to keep up with blogging, yet I’ve kept steady with a good diet, good sleep, meditation and prayer, and trusted I’d one day reclaim my energy and do whatever it is I’m supposed to do in this life that seems sometimes so crazy.
This week has seen the largest fractures in my mind control, the greatest gaps of light shining through after too many years. The story feels too personal to share immediately, and maybe is not even understood completely yet, So I’ll keep it to myself for now.
However, I’d like to share with you some radio and video I’ve done lately and will do soon.
In July, James Bartley (whom I met over a decade ago), now of The Cosmic Switchboard, interviewed me for two hours as I sat in the forest on the Mogollon Rim, as relaxed and at peace as I ever am. Here’s the link to the first hour:
You can also watch it on YouTube:
The second hour can be accessed on James’ site by simply giving your email address – which James does not sell or use to send you stuff. Just an email address and you have access to the second hour in which we discussed Reptilians in mind control.
And I’ve also been interviewed by Janet Kira Lessin, of Revolution Radio and Aquarian Radio. Janet is a mind control subject as well as a counselor. Her husband, Dr. Sasha Lessin is a psychologist. Together, they co-hosted a unique show in that they focused on the psychological elements of my story.
Janet and Sasha were so willing to delve into details – and offer insights I didn’t have – that we thoroughly covered the first 19 years of my life in our two-hour first interview! We plan to continue these interviews until we’ve covered my entire life.
Here’s the link to this two hours:
A few times lately,
I’ve dropped the name Jesus into a blog or vlog,
and I thought I should explain what I mean.
(I didn’t mean to write a prose poem, but just to arrange the words for easy reading.)
I find value in all the world’s ancient texts,
and I take them all with a grain of salt,
even the Bible (sorry Christian friends and family).
The harmony between all these texts is remarkable
(for all humankind’s arguing over their differences).
One basic truth they all tell us is
that Others came from elsewhere and created us here.
Those Others came again and again
to teach, chastise, give gifts, encourage, warn, destroy,
and change our genetics, and they’re coming back.
That’s what all the holy books say.
The United States of America is the First
to convince their citizens not to talk about this,
and not believe it, to laugh at it,
and certainly not use it to explain any “mysteries.”
Archeology, geology, history, and religion
are all full of mysteries
which cease to be serious mysteries if
the ancient texts are true.
American politics is full of mystery. Why,
people strike their heads
and exclaim all the time,
“I can’t believe Congress [or the President] did that!”
But if Other beings are involved in our lives
like ALL the ancient texts say,
as people have believed and recorded for millennia,
They explain the mysteries, easily.
Are They playing evil roles? Or saving us?
Teaching us again? Or just watching?
Depends on which you’re referring to.
And maybe on what you believe.
One disturbing variation on this story is that
the Others put their royal lineages in power,
the Secret Societies in charge of us,
who tell us the Others don’t exist.
Stealing this information is stealing power.
And we’re left dumb, dumb, dumb.
Laughing at ancient history, calling it myth,
and wondering why the world makes no sense.
It makes sense if you have all the pieces of the puzzle.
To get them, you must stop laughing.
But then you only have a picture, not a plan.
(That’s when your work begins.)
The Others are many, our friends and our foes,
like Gramma called it, a War in the Heavens.
Lots of players, I’ve heard, “highly populated cosmos,”
with history that would blow our minds.
And among them, who is Jesus? Quetzalcoatl?
Kokopeli? Mohammed? Krishna? Buddha?
You tell me.
Who is Jehovah? (Well, this is where I get in trouble.)
Genesis reads like a summary
of the Sumerian tales of creation,
conflating an entire crew of Annunaki into one being
named Jehovah, or more correctly Elohim (a plural).
This Other, this god, who called himself God,
was arrogant, abusive, warlike, cruel,
basically a cosmic human developer, slaver and industrialist,
raping the Earth for her gold while developing slaves.
Jesus, on the other hand,
taught us how to treat each other
and promised to return at the “Harvest”
and get those who got it.
Is that where we are now in history?
I don’t know, but I hope. (I’m tired of all I’ve seen!)
Some say Jesus is a tulpa, a being of our creation.
Maybe he’s more, maybe he’s less, but I like his teachings.
Some say Jesus was a shaman,
saying we’ll do miracles too.
But I don’t believe Jesus is the son of Jehovah,
unless he’s overthrowing the family operation.
When I say Jesus now, you won’t mistake me
for a Bible-thumper or a follower of Jehovah.
I follow the Prince of Peace, the Teacher of Righteousness,
and I hope Jehovah isn’t someone I misunderstood!
I could be wrong, but Earth histories seem coherent
with even the strangest Others I’ve experienced.
Everyone else, refusing to see, laughs, then whines,
“But it makes no sense!”
“There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio,
than are dreamt of in your philosophy,” said William Shakespeare.
There ARE more things in Heaven than we acknowledge.
And with them, the world makes sense.
Does this make sense to you?
Before you jump to the conclusion that I’m simply paranoid, having read my earlier post, please check out my super-succinct list here – of some of the stuff I’ve documented over these years – physical injuries, electronic weirdness, and the “Satanic” stuff that I generally don’t name, so I don’t know why I did this time.
Injuries I’ve suffered while amnesic or mysteriously:
– nighttime burn on back of neck (photographed)
– electronic bruising beam 2 1/4″ diameter (witnessed by nurse, photographed two weeks later)
– donut bruises (4, photographed)
– Taser burns (3, photographed)
– lacerations in vagina (3, one photographed)
– apparent surgery on thyroid (scar noted by nurse practitioner)
– back surgery, plates on vertebrae (x-rays not in my possession but seen by me)
– unknown holes appearing on spine (2 or more, photographed)
– bacterial and fungal diseases (Morgellon’s) intentionally inoculated into me (disease extensively photographed, event caused 75 minutes amnesia, disability, documented on Thanksgiving day 2014)
– biopsy scoop marks (photographed)
– on scapula (two, activating constantly, one shown to doctor, tunnel left when one was removed),
– near heart (music in stethoscope reported by terrified Naturopath),
– in g-spot, creating scar tissue or other pain, lasting 18 months; activated once years later; puncture photographed)
– alongside clitoral shaft (documented in journal),
– in ears (2 or more, photographed),
– in teeth, (7, photographed),
– up nostril (2, one photographed),
– left foot near ankle (scar visible, presumed used in first account below)
Electronic events I’ve experienced:
– 4” diameter round vibrating spot turned on my ankle, moving up lower leg about 1” per second, about 6”; after moving, turned on foot again, moving upward again few inches; after moving to bed, approximately 12” round vibrating spot turned on my head, making me unconscious. The next morning, my ears were ringing and always have since, though sometimes to lesser degree.
– many times felt disabled for days, then felt woken up with huge relief that a switch had been flipped – at 10 pm – waking me when exhausted by the shock of normalcy.
– hear a tone, wake on some hour, can’t sleep, sit up to read, hear a tone, notice the time on the hour, fall asleep sitting up.
– black and white movies play short clips in my head, which I ignore, resisting entrainment; once, movie played double speed, once two movies played on top of each other.
– on highway Volkswagen lights go out, I sit immobilized, unable to move even though I want to walk to the gas station, unable to even turn in my seat, estimated 30 minutes, wake out of trance one hour and fifteen minutes later with amnesia. Next day, blood clot blown out of nose, implant discovered in g-spot.
– Painfully loud sound in ears sent me running (under command?) for a relaxation recording, which had disappeared, leaving only a recording I’d been afraid to use, but I used it and experienced oddities and an hour and a half of missing time.
– Chords that wake me or put me to sleep
– Fugue states with feelings of intensity, then unable to remember what I experienced, once immobilized on my step with one foot stretched out for ten minutes (estimate); many fugue states while just sitting
– Sudden need to do something within a few minutes or seconds as if under command, my body responds even when my mind isn’t convinced, once almost falling out the door as I “had to” get out immediately as a helicopter flew low overhead; three times “needing” to get in bed with my pillow, spine, and covers all arranged by a particular time on the hour or half-hour, rushing to accomplish it
Satanic seeming stuff:
– Gloria’s incantation during supposedly “therapeutic” hypnosis, her lying about the time, my discovering her lie on my recording (she didn’t know I was making, which horrified her when I told her), “wrapping me up, every finger and toe,” and my lungs and heart, was disabled for weeks afterward (March 2017)
– Camp group with Masonic emblem, disability for two days after Full Moon (April 2017)
– Other days of disability after Full Moon or New Moon, with amnesia (in journal)
– Hippy Community with Satanic newcomers, extensive disability, painful to walk, weird trance state on Full Moon, dread, left, circled by others, howling crowd in distance later (June 2018)
– New Moon sabotage of my truck, involving computer, seven weeks before its one-year anniversary, with “Yoo hoo” signaling (August 2017)
– New Moon events visiting two people I didn’t want to see, but feeling compelled, leaving impulsively, horrible feelings with both, horrible damage to my rig, mysterious electronic door lock problem between two visits, wonder: truck sabotage by computer a signal for what’s to come?, woman calls “Yoo hoo” (recalling the other woman), realize it’s 7 weeks from the one-year anniversary (April 2020)
…And this is just what I remembered in a few minutes. I’ll expand this, I hope, using my database summarizing my journals.
I’ve chosen not to act emotionally about this, though I once did. Instead I just keep gathering data, and drawing conclusions when I must. And I keep writing.
Thanks for reading.
“Yoo hoo! Yoo hoo!” shouldn’t be threatening, but check out this chart, and if you want, read the story below.
Three and a half years ago, seven weeks before (I believe) my truck was remote controlled to crash on the highway, it was the Solar Eclipse / New Moon, when a strange woman interrupted my meditations, hollering up the mountain to me, “Yoo hoo! Yoo hoo!”
I ignored her until I saw a man carry heavy equipment toward my truck and disappear behind a bush next to it where I couldn’t see him.
I yelled at him, “Get away from my truck!” at which point the woman began calling out that they were going to town and wanted to know if I needed anything. I repeated my demand, but it accomplished nothing. I thought of running down there, and could have easily, but oddly (except for a mind control subject), I felt immobilized and afraid to confront them more closely.
Six weeks later, my truck and trailer made an “impossible” fish-tail movement on flat highway, then made the same impossible movement again the next time I took the rig out one week later (week seven), and I made a mental note to take it to repair- even though everything had just been checked and maintenanced
Half an hour later, it made the same movement, this time down a hill. I’d experienced mild fish-tailing a couple times on steep hills and knew how to easily pull out of them, but this was not a serious hill and none of the conditions should have caused that.
Quickly, my truck and trailer were overwhelmed by extreme fish-tailing which flipped them, destroying them both, leaving me with a concussion, severe whiplash, homeless, with all my possessions in a mess. It was one year (minus one day) since I’d purchased my rig.
When I awoke in my truck, hanging sideways in the restraint, a trucker came to help, and later another trucker came. Oddly, they both used exactly the same language with me, and I assumed they’d both attended the same class on how to respond to highway accidents.
However, I also watched them both “interfere” with the crash scene, spraying fire retardant under my truck, which it didn’t need, while “checking” the wheels and axles. I now think was a cover for removing the remote device that flipped my rig. They’d also parked their trucks so that no one could drive by them and see my rig. (Later, I came to wonder if one of the truckers had also directed my crash by remote control.)
Recovery (physical, mental and financial) has been slow, and I don’t think about the event much, but today I am because of the “Yoo hoo” woman who visited yesterday.
I’d never realized I’d crashed just a day away from my rig’s one-year anniversary until last night. But I had been aware of the seven-week span between the “Yoo hoo” woman and strange man at my truck and the truck-and-trailer’s crashing.
And now, the “Yoo hoo” woman yesterday made me realize I just passed the seven-week mark before my one-year anniversary of purchasing my current rig. Should I be counting down the next seven weeks until their next harassment?
As I’ve taken care of the annual maintenance this spring, I couldn’t help but wonder now and then whether my Targeters were planning on taking my home away from me again, now that I’ve perfectly maintained it. But I brushed the idea aside – until the “Yoo hoo” woman visited.
To add to the freakishness of this whole thing, she mentioned her son living in Hawaii (I have a son who lives there), and she was wearing her hair exactly like mine at the moment – in a ponytail with an extra band at the bottom! Makes me accept they have cameras to watch us TI’s in our rigs.
Sitting down with paper and pen, I charted out the details roiling in my brain and found all these New Moons and sevens and anniversaries are not random, but perfectly orderly. And so I created the chart above.
I hate to admit I believe I’ve been harassed by Satanists a fair amount all my life. I was born under a Full Moon, not just in the 24-hour period, but within 8 minutes of perfection (2/1000ths of a degree). I was also born on 7-7-52 – which adds up, of course, to 7-7-7, which I’m told Satanists love, along with the fact that my birth date was Monday (Moon day), in the middle of Moon Child, as well as the Full Moon.
My mother’s church that I attended as a child was supposedly respectable, but I believe many churches have Satanic infiltrators. And these last few years on the road, I’ve found myself occasionally traumatically disabled for extended periods of time, and I realize a day or two later it had begun on the Full or New Moon when I’d met unpleasant strangers – with Satanic iconography I’d ignored!
Since I’ve been a nomad, the weirdness has had lots of variety, as I assume my peripatetic wanderings cause the Targeters to have to act on the fly and use whatever secret network is available on short notice, and so I experience a little less harassment, of a varied sort, but including “games” by Satanists.
My new rig’s anniversary will be June 7 this year. Seven weeks from the events of frozen truck door locks to the “Yoo hoo” woman (April 21-25) will be June 2-6, and the Full Moon will be June 5th. So I’ll be on guard from June 2-7.
I’m posting this in hopes it’ll blow Their cover, expose their Satanic games-playing and save my life (and rig).
If anything should happen to me six or seven weeks from now, especially if it involves my truck and camper, I hope everyone will recognize a crime has been committed.
You can bet I will be parked and go NOWHERE that week. And I’ll be praying for protection, and welcome you to pray along with me and for me. (Put it in your calendars!?) Thanks.
I believe these are spiritual warfare lessons I’ve been failing, and I pray to learn my lesson now and keep myself safe.
Crazy times we live in…. Reminds me:
“And demons will be let loose on the Earth in those days.”
Research has led me to one site that links Morgellon’s to, not only strange, colorful fibers, but also a fungus-like growth called “biofilm,” with plastic properties, which covers the skin. It is extremely strong, does not look like skin, and I cannot remove it.
One writer called it part of a “cyborgian” evolution the Controllers of the Planet are technologically enforcing on us, with some of their former subjects now being used as first test subjects for this. Crazy, huh?
I was trying to remove the film with dermabrasives, enzymes, baking soda, and vinegar; nothing works. It’s like I have plastic all over me.
It doesn’t show to the naked eye, and seems to be a matrix for other things growing through it.
Fungus on the skin leads to cancer – according to another author – and some of cancer images I found online look like some of the thousands of weird things I’ve photographed on me, like these little red raspberries, which the site identified as a “fast-growing” cancer, and which I’ve photographed about six times on my scalp. Hmmmm. [A glitch in cyborg design to kill their product?]
I’ve spent lots of money on supplements and herbs and organized it all into a daily routine. I’ve always kept sugar to a tiny fraction of the standard American diet, but – it’s weird – I’ve been craving it. I recall I’d read long ago that microorganisms can actually convince our brains that we need something like sugar, and so I’ve been struggling with that – so yesterday I emptied most of the sugar out of the camper and gave it away.
I’m scrubbing (as much as I have energy for) and sunning (when the weather’s good and I’m feeling well), and praying (when I “can”), but I am not certain I’m getting better.
I can’t get help from the medical establishment because doctors don’t want to talk about this “controversial” disease. Why? Well, history says doctors have often been involved in top-secret experiments, and they certainly act like it now.
Each one who learns I have a digital microscope and can record my photos and watch my progress has seemed a little perturbed, as if now they know they can’t bullshit me in the usual way. No one yet, MD or ND, has acted normal, except for the one who honestly said, “This stuff scares me. I need to refer you out.” So.
Yesterday the News announced that hospitals across the nation are now short-staffed and their space overwhelmed, and so all other medical care will be compromised – and for example they mentioned people with chronic diseases – like cancer.
Is this whole thing designed to execute Kissinger’s prophetic statement about our world needing a 95% die-off?
So they invented something to mostly kill the old and infirm. Strategically, that would make sense and be a good start. Better than war. Plague.
I’m over sixty, so Kissinger would have me die. No doctor will give me a blood test to begin any internal treatment. So, I’m wondering if I’m supposed to go soon.
I’m in the pristine, pure desert though! Only have to spend a couple hours in town, one trip each week, to empty my tanks, shower, get water, buy groceries, maybe visit the library, then back to the desert to relax and watch the birds.
And scrub, prepare good food, take my medicines, rub stuff on me, enjoy camp mates from a distance, enjoy solitude, and wonder if I’m really supposed to try to heal this biofilm and fibers and spirochetes.
(So daunting! They’re elated to syphilis! – shades of the syphilis experiment they did for a decade on the Black men of Tuskeegee – the experiment for which the government was shamed into finally admitting and paying settlements. At it again, this time with activists.)
And keep on trying to heal myself as a mind control subject too? Sheesh.
Or (that was just one alter talking) heal myself through prayer? Ask Jesus to heal me? (I have been.)
Maybe this is when I’ll be pushed to such absolute lows that I’ll trigger some strength or knowing and transform myself into something new, spiritual, and healed – ?
Seems like a pretty big order for an old lady, which I’m really beginning to feel these days, grunting and huffing sometimes just to move around.
Feels like, if Kissinger wants 95% to die, I can’t think of much of a reason to say it shouldn’t be me. Ya know?
But I’ll definitely ask that friends and family keep me out of the hospitals! Away from doctors! But let my friends with healing talents come sit with me, help me deal with pain.
The deadly part of this disease is the spirochetes. (That’s why I’ve been so focused on getting a blood test.) They invade the brain, nervous system, and heart. I hope the heart is attacked first.
But if it’s my brain, we’ll have other issues, and I pray for everyone’s kindness, and again to be kept away from doctors or anyone who could be pretending to help but really be another targeter.
That’s why, for awhile, I was thinking the coronavirus might be a faster way to go. But I’m not chasing it – and I no longer believe it’s actually a virus causing the problem. And I don’t believe I’ll live or die according to what I do; I believe my controllers will decide.
Further, I am not philosophically persuaded that I understand everything in this multi-dimensional world well enough to make that sort of radical decision, to die or not. When my angels or family and friends over there make themselves known to me and call me over, then maybe.
Till then, I’ll sit in the beautiful desert or forest, greet the trees and flowers and birds each day, and move when the weather persuades me.
My YouTube channel has videos of my Morgellon’s at:
I’ve been documenting the weird protrusions from my skin for about a year now, and some of the items that people want to call hairs, just aren’t.
Some appear to be fungus, others appear to be bacteria. This one with knobby joints along its length has long fascinated me. Some of the tips have a fine, crystalline point; others seem brush-like. And they often have a swollen base, though this one doesn’t.
The diagram below can be found on a few Morgellon’s websites. I’ve recognized none of the organisms below – though the largest one has features I’ve noted all year long: the knobby stem and the “brush-like” tip.
The large body at the other end is probably what’s under the skin, causing the bulges at the base of each and the inflamed spots all over, as in the next photo of mine, not as highly magnified.
Under magnification, the “hairs”/stems are knobby and the tips are either brush-like or have fine, crystalline points.
I believe these are fungus, and I’ve begun an anti-fungal diet, which I’ll post about next.
Of course, fungus is only one part of this disease. (What’s the little orange blob on the left in the photo above? I have a whole collection of weird blob photos I’ll post soon.)
There are also the spirochetes to deal with (sorry about the high drama in this artwork) – which can enter the brain, nervous system, and heart – which I’m concerned has already happened, judging by my sometimes-foggy brain, trembling fingers, and ongoing ulcers breaking out – though my ulcers are tiny compared to this picture.
(People without microscopes can’t see what I see, so they let their symptoms go longer until it gets this bad. I’m so sorry! If you’re concerned, get yourself a digital microscope online!)
And finally, the weird fibers, which many people believe are nanotechnology – and I have enough experience to have personal evidence that I believe it may indeed be true. I’ll post about that later.
(Sure am wishing doctors in America weren’t in on the targeting so I could get a blood test instead of being given a delusional parasitosis diagnosis, sadly.
Look at this pink fungal fruiting body! On my scalp.
Last night I woke at 1 am and since I couldn’t sleep, I sat up and asked my Spirit Help what they might want me to hear, as They often wake me at night for things like that.
Morgellon’s was a spiritual battle, they said – like everything else. Yes, I’m supposed to keep my diet clean and sugar-minimized, and keep sleeping well, and getting sun, but I’m also supposed to be talking with the spiritual beings around me who can also deal with the fungal beings in my skin – on this realm and others.
On this realm, I was also encouraged that simple products could help change the ecosystem of my skin even more than essential oils. Online this morning, I read that using vinegar to create an acid environment could diminish the fungal aspect of Morgellon’s. And so I’m beginning….
…That was a week or more ago and that’s as far as I got. I never put on vinegar after the first day! What’s wrong? Mind control? Sheesh.
Okay. I don’t need to be as gloomy as I was last post.
Going for the vinegar now.
I was going to share some of the jokes I find myself telling on good days, about becoming part mushroom (which I read later Joni Mitchell has also said about her Morgellon’s) after I saw what appear to be “fruiting bodies” growing out of my chin after only 24 hours without scrubbing and ointments. And maybe I’d share about this balance of living with a whole host of parasites preparing me to see other realities.
Instead, I picked up my digital microscope to check my skin which I’m too tired to scrub.
First I went looking for the two holes I found yesterday in my upper left arm with a handheld 10x lens but hadn’t taken the time to look at with the better, save-able digital microscope until today. They’d looked like very fine hypodermic holes, and finding them on the day of a Full Moon when I felt tired is not typically a surprise; maybe that’s why I just couldn’t pick up the microscope that day – subconsciously too depressed from something done to me in the night. Today, they seem to have neatly closed and I can’t find them. Fine.
Nearby, I found a larger, but still tiny red spot that bled when I ran my fingernail over it, but showed no blood under the microscope. I don’t have any idea what this is. But there is a “cup fungus” (I found online) that lives in skin and produces blood-red, oddly shaped cups – similar to what I find all over me.
Next I looked at my chin and found this fruiting body reaching out, catching the LED light in its translucent outer layer, with other, “common” anomalies which might be part of the natural human skin ecosystem, but I don’t know, as doctors seem loathe to discuss it.
On my left cheek, I found more “common” (to me now) weirdness, with another fungal fruiting body (I assume, and am open to correction) with its dark tip alongside this strange item which I think is a typical tangle of Morgellon’s fibers. I’ve had lots of single filaments, but not that many wads of them.
I want to scrub my face, my ears, my back, my chest, my arms, my hands, my fingers, my legs, my toes, but it all takes so much energy. Two weeks ago, I paid for my last shower and decided to take all future ones in my camper, not because of the money ($6-20), though that helps, but because I felt under pressure to get it all done within a reasonable period of time, but I lost energy and always did a varying quality job. By bathing in my rig, even though I’ll use more water and propane and have to go into town more often, I can bathe a little of me at a time. I might do my face and genitals in the morning (though I didn’t today, kept putting it off), then neck and arms mid-morning, then torso after lunch, then legs in afternoon, and face and genitals again at night (always scrubbing hands and nails before and after washing each section of me). Just thinking about all that makes me exhausted.
These days I find myself holding my breath worse than ever, wondering why some part of me is starving my heart and brain and everything else. Well, I don’t actually wonder, I know. A few parts of me don’t think it’s worth being around anymore, and I understand. But I think I/we am/are supposed to be here. But that part of me that wants to breath can’t seem to overcome the others who don’t – sometimes. Like today.
I have vegetables to cook, cilantro to wash and prepare, things to organize, receipts to put in my bookkeeping, and I just don’t feel able to focus on those tasks. I did get the dishes done today, left from yesterday. I cooked a healthy, no-sugar-of-any-sort breakfast (then followed it with a chocolate truffle!), and emptied part of my gray water tank, only because I was forced to. It’s raining so I can’t walk, which is fine, as I’d only feel guilty or sad on a day like today because I have no energy.
Sometimes I think my spirit helpers helped me get the infection, to help me leave this life as I’ve sometimes said I wanted to – but I really believe it’s the mind controllers who gave it to me. Here’s my theory on that:
I started life as a mind control subject and still was when I “ran away from home” at age 19, but suddenly they had to treat me in a manner for which they hadn’t planned; they had to respond to activities I chose that they hadn’t chosen for me, so they had to adapt their programs. Twice they got me married to other mind control subjects who were able to exert impressive control, but I left each after about 9 years and have been single for the last 27 years.
After my separation in 1993, I – didn’t know it but recognized it later – was put on the “Targeted Individuals” list. I was gang stalked and sabotaged in everything I tried to do, unless the Controllers determined it could be useful to them.
When I lived remotely as a hermit, my experiences felt like science fiction coming from the nearby Fort Huachuca, a (the?) major American intelligence center, also associated, conspiratorially, with aliens. Besides all that, someone destroyed my computer and socially sabotaged me so that I could not work.
In debt, with no clear future, I sold my hermitage and moved to a small town, and my experiences of aliens and UFOs ended; in their place, anomalies left traces suggesting high-tech medicine and electronic warfare testing. Each experiment felt new, none repeated (that I was aware of), all interesting, disconcerting, exhausting, and not as fearful as I philosophically thought it should be.
In one terrible event, I became conscious with a body memory of some disease organism being technologically implanted in my body. In the next two years, I would begin to wake up with a painful scalp I described as feeling “like someone pulled me around by my hair all night,” and another sensation I described as “like someone had pounded the soles of my feet.” The disease would be diagnosed only 5 years later, and I’d find ulcers and fibers growing out of my scalp and fibers growing out of the soles of my feet.
This last phase of my life since I fled my home to travel permanently may have been concurrent with my demotion from military test subject to simple victim for punishment. At least three times I’ve been led unknowingly to attend Satanist gatherings on the Full Moon and woken up disabled for a day or two. I’ve witnessed many endless common people working for Operation TIPS doing drive-by harassment and such, many business owners who mysteriously treat me abominably, and finally, a new variety of electronic harassment.
My value to the mind control organizations I assume has diminished, so that they don’t care now whether I’m killed or not. Someone did something to my truck two years ago, which I documented and thought about a lot, but didn’t have looked at, then my trailer mysteriously fishtailed twice on flat road and then on a hill flipped me over, totaling my truck and trailer home and giving me a whiplash and concussion. Did they intend exactly that? To terrify and hurt me badly, but not kill me? Or did they not care, maybe even took bets on the outcome? I don’t know.
I’m not as controllable (I assume/hope), and can imagine they’re angry at me for documenting their damages and might want to punish me for it. As authoritarian types always have.
I could try to be “good”; I did for so much of my life, when I believed the American dream. But I don’t anymore. I remember now the sexual abuse in my home, my church and strange places I was taken. I remember learning about money, and hating it, because it was exchanged when I was abused. When I learned about Capitalism, it made me extremely sad for the world, and I thought, “This just cannot work.” I’m a failed mind control test subject – at least failed to some degree.
But I’m not sure I have no value to them anymore. I do wake up at least once each month having slept 11 hours and feeling so exhausted I can’t do anything but feed myself, and I have a dreadful feeling my amnesia occured because I was with them or they were in my home the previous night. Was I actually doing something for them? I’ve had impressions of being used to do remote viewing in an altered state as late as 2014. I’ve wondered if I was used sexually. I’ve wondered if I was used to help groom little girls for this work, which breaks my heart the most. I’ve also “glitched” once, and an alter took over who knew how to assassinate and was thrilled to have the opportunity “after such a long time.” Who knows what I might have done all my life!?
Or are they just doing maintenance these days – checking my heart, testing my blood, seeing how their old subject is?
Or are they monitoring the fascinating disease they gave me in 2014?
Six years after that 2014 event when I believed someone intended to inoculate me with disease – and I “forgot” about it all this time – I’m categorizing types of fibers, photographing them, adapting my life, but feeling like I’m losing the battle. Maybe I’m not. I’ve had angels come heal me before. They could come again.
It feels great to write these things, to make a record. But I really should get up to bathe.
I’ll put water on the stove (far more efficient than lighting the 6-gallon water heater), close the camper door (it’s been nice to have it open all morning), turn on the space heater, close the blinds, lay towels on the floor, get out the body scrubs, put on a movie, and begin with my face.
It’s so much trouble, and if I have the energy to do it, there’s no energy left for anything else. Realistically speaking, not emotionally, it just seems like I’m going to die. And eugenically (!?) speaking, I think I should. As a wimp, I don’t want to suffer. As a person defending her sanity against doctors and her self-esteem with a family that doesn’t want to believe her, I don’t want to deteriorate as predicted by this diagnosis.
So I’ve joked I should go volunteer at a local hospital and hope to catch Covid19.
On the other hand, if I’m still useful to the Controllers, I’m not sure they’ll allow me to die. I have an implant in my heart and, for all I know, they’ll keep me alive to watch the disease develop (like they did with the Tuskeegee Black prisoners who were given a related spirochete, syphilis) and thereby torture me for my sins. But maybe not. I can hope.
If I live, I still have so many other unpleasantries of old age: missing teeth, malocclusion, failing eyesight, and forgetfulness (and we hope it’s not Alzheimer’s); but worst is not old age but the technology mind controllers put in me over the decades. I have documented implants in my heart, g-spot, alongside my clitoral shaft, on my left scapula, 6 in my teeth, 2 in my ears, and I believe there could be more. They can be used to move my whole body or vibrate a part, make me nauseous and anxious, immobilize me, shift my consciousness off and on, turn on other programmed alters, and more. Even if I could heal my Morgellon’s and get my teeth fixed, who would want to be subject to the rest of what I live with? No one.
But if my controllers seem to be trying to kill me, then I wonder whether they’re not using me in any significant way anymore. And that would be an excellent understanding, in a way – to be killed instead of mind controlled. Thank you. But I’m not sure of anything.
I don’t mind dying if they don’t string it out too long and painfully. Ironically, though, my daily scrubbing efforts might be helping me live longer, and that’s not really what I want. I should serve my own needs better, and help shorten this eventuality. Yeah, that’s the only thing that makes good philosophical sense. I should just let it take me over.
Unless I’m supposed to be here still for something.
Back and forth, back and forth.
Morgellon’s Disease can be painfully isolating – but I’m used to isolation. I’m a mind control subject, and the controllers have always planned for us to be isolated and discredited – in case we’d ever remember what had been done to us.
Since I was a child, my mother has been telling my siblings not to believe me, and while I witnessed her behavior all my life, I’d been programmed to never object to it or anything else my parents might do.
They were being paid, I believe, to cooperate with the controllers with whom they’d contracted when I was a baby, living with them in student housing on the campus of UC Davis where the Human Ecology Project was launched in my first year, a cover for mind control experiments.
My mother created a lot of disharmony between me and my siblings. When they wouldn’t eat all their vegetables, she’d point to me – cruelly mind controlled to obey regardless of my desire – and say, “Why don’t you just eat your dinner like Jean Ann?” and they’d all scowl at me across the table.
Another phase I heard from her often was, “Oh, I’ve always said you had a vivid imagination, and you mixed up your dreams with memory.” Weirdly, she always said the exact same words, never varied, in a sing-song rhythm, so that one day it made the hair stand up on the back of my neck when I realized she seemed to be going into a trance when she repeated the sentence word-for-word, and in that moment I knew something was very, very weird.
I’d just drawn the floor plan of an apartment in which I had my youngest memory, including details about where the linoleum ended and the carpet began and the glazed tall narrow window by the front door – to which she’d exclaimed, “You couldn’t remember that! You were 14 months old when we left there!” Then her face had trembled at the illogic of her words, and she pushed herself up from the table, walked to the window, and said those same words once more.
The memory I’d described rather thoughtlessly (I’d started enthusiastically before realizing it didn’t put her in a very good light but then I had to continue, so I de-emphasized the difficult part) had been of me fussing for her attention, batting around her hips (I was that small), her frustrated response as she stopped her efforts over the stove, threw the spatula, and screamed, “I can’t take this anymore! I’m leaving!” and walked out the door.
My next youngest memory of my mother was of her “washing my mouth out with soap” for something I’d said. I have no idea what it was, but I suspect the thing that enraged her was talking about some sexual abuse in the night. I was so obedient to my mother that after she left me in the bathroom, I followed her, prodding my tongue over chunks of soap stuck to my teeth and my mouth filling with saliva, to get permission to move the step stool so I could spit it all out.
Later, when my baby sister was born, I recall being told to keep my two younger siblings from getting into trouble when my mother took the baby in to nap with her. I was only five and felt burdened to keep two little ones from getting into things they shouldn’t. Of course, they didn’t want to listen to me, and things didn’t always go well. But I still have no memories of my mother’s face or her looking at me.
Today, when I describe anything weird to my siblings, they all ignore me in a similar way; they respond to everything “normal” and are absolutely silent about everything else, even the most extreme.
Once, after I’d woken with a Taser burn on my arm, my face looking as bad as I’ve ever seen it, and my physical energy totally drained for days, I crafted a letter to my siblings and edited it for three days until I thought I had something that was as brief as possible, but still well-documented, limited to what I thought they could handle, with a conclusion simply asking for their advice in addressing this common weirdness in my life, of waking with weird injuries and total exhaustion.
Two of my three siblings responded with one sentence each. My brother would pray for me; my older younger sister said she didn’t have any money to lend (I never mentioned money); and my youngest younger sister just didn’t respond.
Years earlier, I’d learned that all my family had met together without me for a special long weekend at the family cabin, and I was never told the nature of the meeting. I assume they all decided to do something like I’ve heard is done in mental health cases: only respond to what’s “real”; ignore what’s “not real.” I understand. Mom did her job well, and my siblings simply believe I’m somewhat crazy.
That’s not really a problem. I could always just live my life without communicating with my siblings. But one sibling will be executing the family estate one day, and my father’s will has some strange language about money NOT going to anyone who can’t care for him- or herself; and if my brother – who has, as a fundamentalist Christian, chosen to act very hostilely to me in the past, including telling me I’m not in touch with reality as he walked away, waving his hand as if to shoo away any words back from me) – actually believes I’m crazy, then I might get ZERO inheritance – unless I go live in an institution!
So I continue to treat my situation like a good scientist, and document, document, document. I have photos, testimonies, medical records, police records, and more. But my siblings want to hear of nothing; they want to continue to pretend I’m crazy, and no sexual abuse or mind control has had anything to do with our family.
Never mind that our family has connections to Masons, Mormons, the Military, and Hollywood. And one sister hired Madonna’s mother to be nanny to her baby daughter!
One other way I could interpret my siblings’ behavior is that they’re more knowledgeable than they let on, and they know our parents were involved and that I was given into mind control, but it’s best to pretend they don’t know, because it has always been in everyone’s best interests to protect our father (and mother, who passed away last year).
Or maybe it’s to protect themselves. Maybe they’re also in on it somehow. Maybe they became Satanists at some point, willfully or accidentally. Or maybe there’s some other reason.
I choose to believe they were simply encouraged from their earliest years by my mother and father to disbelieve me – because the controllers know that their experiments are not fully refined, and their subjects often “glitch” and realize the weirdness or pain of their lives and want to tell someone. So to head off that possibility, their subjects are called crazy or not dependable from their earliest days to everyone close to them.
The world tells me I have a good mind; I’ve scored high on college exams, Air Force exams (I never joined), and MENSA tests (also never joined). I’ve been offered two six-figure salaries; and in college received comments from three professors that my analyses were the most astute and creative that they’d read in their careers.
Last week, one of my sisters learned about the harsh treatment of migrants in our border jails, and I wrote back to say I wasn’t surprised because of how I’d been treated in jail as an activist. It involved being Tasered and losing 24 hours of memory. She ignored me.
The sad part is my family and exes seems to have also convinced my daughter to distrust me too. My son I’ve chosen not to tell much to, so he’s the only positive “real” connection, but I haven’t had the courage to actually be real, lest he turn away also.
So I live with NO acknowledgement of my reality or the pain or anxiety I suffer, except from random friends now and then who’re dealing with something similar.
I worry about my family. I’d like to protect my kids and granddaughter and some of my nieces and nephews, but the mind controllers have been plotting for decades to keep exactly this from happening.
So I live philosophically. Each of us has their own lessons to learn, and no one can help another learn them. We can support and encourage and love, but ultimately we can’t help.
We have our own spiritual Helpers though, and so I pray for my children and grandchildren, and even my siblings and father and mother on the other side, and my nieces and nephews – that their Helpers are doing what’s possible, and I don’t need to worry. It’s sad, though, never having had siblings to whom I could relate normally.
I’ve enjoyed that sense of family when I’ve connected with the other side. It’s not very often though, at least that I remember.
I don’t blame anyone. We’re all mind controlled to some degree, and some of us with the worst of it can see it better and sooner; those who can’t see it have every reason not to look: it’s scary. I don’t blame them for looking away.
I’m sure life would be delightful if I could pretend this stuff wasn’t real and “make it real,” and I tried that for ten years. But after a decade of denial, throwing all my life energy into other activities, they were always sabotaged and brought down by mysterious forces, either working in me or working through others.
So I accept that my eyes and ears and good mind are right; I’m mind controlled. And those around me have been mind controlled to ignore what I’d like to tell them.
I respect mind control. It’s next to impossible to combat. At least I can’t, yet. So I can’t blame others for turning their backs on me.
Hopefully, we’ll talk about it in the afterlife.
Many days lately I’ve felt too tired to bathe. I monitor my Morgellon’s Disease with a digital microscope and see fungal and spirochetal co-infections growing wildly all over my face or other places just one day after a good scrubbing.
I also find all sorts of anomalies that match various Internet photos of fungal infection or skin cancer, including many on my scalp and elsewhere that look like little red raspberries called “most fast growing.”
Many days, I can only wash my face and genitals but just don’t have energy to wash any more. In the last few days, I’ve found new patches of fungal-looking growths all over my ears and the back of my neck where I’ve not seen them before – and I despair that I don’t have the energy to address them. To lift my arms for that long, and rub abrasive back and forth just sounds like too much energy to expend all over my ears and neck and every crevice and angle and above and below of every limb and my torso – just way too much.
And for what? So I can live a healthier life to be mind controlled against my will on a regular basis? No thanks. But still the irrational urge to live is still in me.
The spirochetes are my main concern, as they can enter the nervous system, heart and brain. In the last month, I’ve noticed my hands trembling and fingers flicking my phone or my face without my intention.
My energy is so low I wonder about my heart, since I’ve already had “at least one” (according to a doctor) heart attack, and keep finding myself holding my breath, feeling weak and even like crying at the thought of a doctor-recommended treadmill “stress test,” which I don’t think I can do. And there’s a strange feeling under my skull, and I often feel unable to focus my mind for tasks I really need to do, so I barely keep up.
Besides bathing, I deal with this complex disease in a few other ways: excellent diet with little sugar, as much sleep as I want, moderate exercise as I feel able each day, sunshine, internal supplements, topical ointments, and prayer. I keep up with these well enough, but I just don’t have the physical energy to scrub every part of my body every day.
I’ve wondered whether to hire someone to bathe me (as if I could afford it or barter enough to pay for what would probably be at least an hour’s effort every day), or give up (intending to die), or try to increase all my other healing attempts so that not scrubbing won’t be an issue. Or maybe I should be on oxygen, so I’d have the energy to bathe myself. Some say I should quit all my efforts and just pray.
I dunno. I think about dying often, and I usually just feel relieved that the battle could soon be over. I feel a little sad for myself, but mostly sad for our whole world, run as it is by people who’d mind control us for their purposes and kill us with gruesome diseases if we weren’t useful enough to them. But scriptures says that’s what the gods have always done.
Hanging in there anyway ~
No one wants to believe these things aren’t just hairs, so I’ve taken a few photos to show you their structure.
This brown thing definitely moves when the microscope glides around, but sometimes it seems to move as if perceiving. They all have a particular bend with a tiny knob at that bend.
At the base is redness and apparently a second protrusion, cylindrical and stubby, alongside the main item.
It’s common to find two of these from the same place, and also common to find two different types of anomalous growths. This is too short to categorize.
Above the bend, the organism (I feel I can call it now) is striped in color and transparency.
Refocusing toward the tip, the striping continues.
The tip is very difficult to capture with the quality of microscope I have. Often it seems to be a bundle of fine long fibers that read something in the environment.
Hairs don’t look like this. Microorganisms in the fungal family might. Any experts out there?
It seems to be diminishing with oregano oil (a drop in a 1/2t Vitamin E oil). I think I should also get more sun, and consume less sugar.
After a lifetime of not eating much sugar at all, I’ve started to indulge even when I know it’s totally contrary to my healing. I’ve heard some people say our parasites can communicate their desire, such as for sugar, which we mistake for our own desire. So this bacterium and fungus I’m fighting might be the ones calling out for a little bit of sugar.
(Again, every doctor AND Naturopath I’ve consulted (seven in five months) acts like they’re either afraid or following orders to deny this and push me away, adding to the theory that they’re all in a conspiracy to hide and deny the results of secret government research; consequently, I haven’t yet found one to order me a blood test. The Tuskeegee syphilis patients in the 1940s died of a spirochete not too different from the one we’re calling Morgellon’s. Maybe in forty years everyone will get an acknowledgement and apology. But not now.)
So I’ve quit looking for a blood test; I just assume I have this spirochete, and I know it can hurt your heart and go into your nervous system and brain. And all that might have begun. And I might be dying.
On the other hand, I have been healed so many times by unseen forces, I’ve always assumed by my Helpers, but possibly by Mind Control technology in order to get me strong enough for some amnesic task I’m needed for, I really don’t know.
I do know I have implants all over in me, as I’ve felt them activated in various ways, and one doctor heard one. So it finally occurred to me, I’m probably going to live or die depending on whether the Controllers – or my Helpers – want me to.
But in case my life is in my hands, then I’m taking care of it pretty well, except for the few grams of sugar I try to stay under each day (10, but it used to be 5). I eat organic when it’s available, sleep well, take supplements and super-nutrients, minimize coffee and alcohol. And I scrub the fungi away every day – at least for the last two days, but I’ve been intending for a long time.
I read today Edgar Casey said the Unseen is far more powerful than the Seen. I need to be reminded. For some reason – mind control? – these things I know I act like I don’t know! So I need prayer help on this.
I’m trying to design my life for maximum healing (and saving money), camped in a beautiful place in the desert, where I was greeted by an owl, coyotes, and lots of birds, a phainopepla this late afternoon. I’ve bathed in teas made from the leaves of desert creosote. I’m hoping I can keep up the energy the next time I’m “attacked” – apparently hit by some vibe that disables me.
Keeping up the spirit for now.
First used digital microscope in May 2019 to investigate deep sores on scalp followed by deep scabs. Discovered this wound first:
Later found more scalp ulcers, this one photographed in October, 2019:
Also found ulcers on my face:
And this on the bridge of my nose:
Also, an ulcer in my vagina, with strange fibers in the open wound:
And fibers everywhere on my body:
Even emerging from the soles of my feet:
And this cluster of fibers seems to be contained in lymph and blood, picked off the tip of one of my toes:
And some of the fibers seem similar to hairs, but with strange features like blunt “heads,” jointed structure, and sometimes apparent independent movements:
Along the way I also found things that seem like photos of cancer I’ve seen online – little red raspberry-appearing things:
And I’ve found evidence of what I believe is a spirochete infection, on both my genitals and face:
Since the Morgellon’s controversy contains the story of a secret biowarfare lab working with spirochetes that got out of control, and because another historic controversy involved another spirochete, syphilis, tested on Black men in the forties, it is concerning to find spirochetes on my body and doctors refusing to look or test.
And because of the history of our nation’s biowarfare experiments on unwitting subjects, and my previous evidence that I’ve been used for other experiments, it’s especially concerning to find artificial elements like this yellow, six-sided bead that seems to be planted tightly on my scalp:
One evening when I hadn’t scrubbed my face in 18 hours, I found this apparently complex ecosystem growing on my chin, which thankfully could be scrubbed away:
And this seems to be a fungal infection on my face, according to a medical care provider:
Sorry I haven’t been able to post much. I’ve been dealing with extreme fatigue (another symptom of Morgellon’s) and inability to focus on the few days I have Internet access. Another possible development is that the spirochetes can move into one’s heart, nervous system and brain. Last summer, I took a 6-mile hike, climbing at least a 1,000 feet elevation, and felt fine. Today, I can’t walk a mile without exhaustion.
I’ve also developed a tremor or palsy in my hands! I’ve flicked myself in the face while falling asleep and tapped more unwanted items on my cell phone and witnessed my left hand trembling so bad I have to hold the phone against something steady to be able to use it – all symptoms of spirochetes moving beyond just the skin.
So when I have a hard time thinking and feel a fullness under my scalp I wonder if they’re passing the blood-brain barrier and invading my brain.
Sure wish the 2 doctors and 3 Naturopaths I’ve consulted would have taken this seriously. One did, and she said she was scared of it and referred me to out-of-state doctors. I appreciate her honesty. The two doctors, I assume, are in the secret network, aligned against us targeted individuals. The other Naturopaths might have been threatened, but couldn’t be as honest as the one.
Now I’m away from home and my health insurance plan just doesn’t work for nomads. So I’ve been waiting for two months for one Naturopath to send me an order for blood work, but his office hasn’t sent it.
Some days I feel like I’m dying slowly, eaten alive by fungus and spirochetes, my skin looking horrible under the microscope, my heart feeling fainter by the day, my hands occasionally trembling, no energy to scrub myself as often as I should.
Other days, I just feel better, or if I really need to do things, I “dissociate” well enough to enjoy productive days and some lazy days and visiting with friends. Here’s a photo to prove it:
I appreciate you caring.
A federal judge ruled on Wednesday that the Terrorist Screening Database violates the constitutional rights of American citizens who are on it, deciding in favor of 23 citizens who sued after being placed on the watchlist.
— Read on www.cnn.com/2019/09/04/politics/terrorism-screening-database/index.html
Eventually, I had to also acknowledge some things I’d seen but wanted to ignore, like strange fibers that were much finer than hair, and other hair-like things that seemed to act like self-directed periscopes or antennas.
And my feet under the microscope seemed to have been punctured in the near-center of every print line at regular distances by some parasite that completely covered the soles of my feet.
Some of these made me – and some readers of an earlier post – think of Morgellons, and I wondered when I’d been inoculated with it.
Even though only one place on my body had large numbers of fibers, there was at least one strange fiber at every location I set down the microscope, and I felt covered by organisms from scalp to toe, disgusted, and terrified when I considered my life history of doctors seem to be involved in the nighttime amnesic events and to be hostile to me in their daytime offices.
To my great surprise, removing the sticky foam wasn’t easy. When my Q-tip touched the white fluff, it surprised me with its stiffness and stickiness – it had an affinity for skin and did not let go! This was nothing that could be mistaken for mucous.
This last year has felt very productive. Not only did I sort a lot of possessions, but I also purchased a couple of USB otoscopes and began video documenting the weird technological anomalies in my ears, nose, and teeth, which I have to conclude are probably implants placed by rogue elements of our government, since I’ve felt implants operated in different parts of my body and even had one doctor hear one operated in my heart. (See ParadigmSalonVideo on YouTube.) Nevertheless, I’ve been trying to keep productive and in a good enough mood to keep my friends and family with me.
In the spring, I purchased a new camper and truck and moved in by summer and got back to productivity on a couple of important projects, while traveling in cooler country. (And helped a friend prepare to flee a fire.)
Also, I needed to get away from my trailer home in Pearce. I had purchased a meter and found off-the-charts electric energy fields in my home that I felt was making me sick and lethargic.
When I found a particularly heavy reading in a wall where there were supposedly no wires of any sort, I considered cutting open the wall to see what was there, but decided instead to just leave town! And life has felt better away from home.
On August 1, I got out my barely-used USB microscope and for the first time put it on my scalp to document what I thought was a microwave shot to the head.
Putting the microscope all over my body, I found a lot of anomalies, mostly weird fibers emerging from my skin, along with other oddities:
and curious fibers all over my body, many of which waved around on their own, like little heads looking this way and that.
Alarmed, I put the microscope on my nether parts and found this lesion, swimming with organisms. Most infuriating, many of these organisms seemed to have been just put there in a clump – not emerging, just laid on the skin, disconnected! With my documentation of people entering my home on a regular basis with myself either made unconscious or immobilized, I have to interpret this finding as evidence that someone has been innoculating me with these.
I’ve spent the last few days now, microscopically videotaping the skin all over my body, finding odd stuff everywhere, researching online, and even talked to one researcher whom I hope will get back to me sometime soon.
Meantime, I’m in a sort of suspended-belief shock.
It is rather weird to be still functioning, but see, microscopically, that your skin is deteriorating and little organisms are eating you. And some of those organisms have behaviors like “looking around.”
Because the medical authorities have denied this condition exists – despite thousands of people having it – makes me believe there’s probably something to the theories that this is a government secret project. Since I clearly have secret technology implanted in my ears, teeth, heart, scapula, genitals, and elsewhere (see past blogs and vlogs), and I’ve ignored their warnings to shut up about it, perhaps they’ve also implanted me with living organisms to make me miserable until I die???
Some say some of these “hairs” are actually antennas – explaining their behavior – connected electronically to the implants. Who knows? We can only guess when the government says, “Nothing… delusional.”
For five days now, I’ve been researching, documenting, and keeping almost totally to myself here in our forest camp. I haven’t told anyone about this except for a few people I’m camping with (very briefly) and two email friends.
I have a researcher calling me back, hopefully soon, and a Naturopath appointment five weeks away. Meantime, I have work to do: appointment in town, and a day’s worth of errands, tank dumps, and provisioning. I’ll act like life is normal.
A powerful history of America’s experimenting on unwitting, unwilling citizens. Well worth the 3.5 hours.
Above left is a photo inside my right ear. On the right is a photo of one of many “normal inner ear” images on the Internet that look very similar.
The differences I see are these:
Thanks for being with me on this journey.
Places where I KNOW there is an implant – because I’ve felt them activated or have seen and photographed them – and places where I SUSPECT an implant might be – described and documented below. (Numbers 5, 9, 11, 13, and 17 might have been left off the list, as they have little evidence. Numbers 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, and 16 indicate two or more implants.)
1. Top/back crown of head. Often painful and hot. Anomalous radio frequency readings.
2. Represents implants of unknown number in area often painful and hot.
3. Represents implants of unknown number in area often painful and hot.
4. Both ear canals – significant technology can be seen with otoscope, is videotaped and published, appears to attract skin to grow over it (see newest videos); ringing since Dec 2010; unusual experience with ears Oct 27, 2016, followed by sense of water in ear for three days. Appears to match online description of “Cochlear Implant” in which elements are mounted inside a rubber cup, as this appears to be.
5. Occiput. Unsure. Associated with altered state once.
6. Back of back-right-lower tooth appears to have four items stored in geometric order, three vertically, one left of the bottom one, plus a porcelain cap seen in the back, not flush with the tooth. (Also, tooth above, top right, appears very unhealthy at its base.)
7. Two here: Implant in side of tooth, lower left, second from back, with porcelain button cap, videotaped signs of transmitting: patch of white inside stain to right, patch of tiny bubbles in front of mysterious stain dots on porcelain cap, the porcelain cap always curious to hygienists. Also another porcelain cap between this tooth and the tooth behind, gold-colored in this photo with a layer of tooth cement on top of it. (And for the record, the tooth above also appears very unhealthy at its base.) (And I stopped one dentist from placing another implant in a tooth when I discovered the extra hole he’d drilled, and he prompted destroyed the evidence by destroying and removing my tooth.)
8. This implanted the day #10 was removed. It tickles now and then.
9. On spine. Theoretical. Think it might be used to pull my spine out of alignment.
10. In me for over a year. Bruise showed within two weeks, went away within two weeks after it was removed Oct 26, 2014 (resulting tunnel is shown in photo with bruise beside). Tickled a lot.
11. On spine. Theoretical. Think it might be used to pull my spine out of alignment.
12. In my heart or very nearby. My Naturopath heard it in 2006 and was rather disturbed. She appreciated my not pressing her about it, but she confirmed my account after I’d published my book in 2008.
13. Inside left forearm, beneath elbow. Has pressed on a nerve since my 20s or 30s. May be a harmless cyst, but it’s in a location that many people report implants, so it’s suspected.
14. February 8, 2011, I sensed a cut, up alongside my clitoral shaft about 1” or more up inside, where I assume an implant has been placed. I sensed the cut tissue as soon as I awoke and moved my leg. Some researchers report these implants are placed specifically for sexual torture, but I’ve never felt it activated while conscious.
15. Inside my g-spot, where I have a puncture wound (at arrow, above the obvious laceration – a different harassment) – indicating an implant that some researchers claim is placed in people explicitly to torture their subjects sexually. Arrived in November 2004 and was activated once (before the clitoral cut happened in 2011), lifting me off the bed when I was reading. (I would like this implant removed first.)
16. Implants in both my hands, unsure exactly where, but they cause radio interference when handling an EMF meter and also when interacting with my iPhone.
17. Smaller than pea-sized, left leg, 1” above the ankle, 1” inside from center shin. Arrived between 2001-2003, suddenly a hard lump under the skin, during time of many UFO experiences.
18. Found silver two-layer button in nose, videotaped it; tried unsuccessfully to remove it with a q-tip, disappeared two days later. Also, suspected an implant arrived November 2004, causing nosebleed.
Very strange to realize you’re a cyborg, all wired up, and you never signed up willing.
What do you do when you wake up and realize you were born into a science fiction scenario, and everyone has conspired to lie about it and tell you you’re not too be taken seriously, despite your science journals and other “documentation,” and they want you to just shut up about this stuff?
You’d been fairly successful in living your life as if everything were normal, even though you knew it wasn’t. You lived in an uneasy tension between 2 worlds: the one that everyone else agreed on, that everything was fine, and it even made you feel good to pretend it; and the other reality that opens up regularly at nighttime, steals your energy, makes you amnesic, and leaves you with wounds that any doctor might leave, except for one that makes you think it had to have been aliens. That’s why you go along with the pretense that everything’s fine, to take a breather from the intensity of the nighttime.
I feel like Persephone, innocent, stolen from the Mother Earth Goddess, and released in seasons, to recover, only to be drug back into Hell again.
All this mythology, of gods and aliens, opened my eyes to realms beyond – which disappeared also when interacting in the world where these things don’t happen, where people don’t even want to know that they happen, even to their own sister or mother; I understand; it’s far too scary to contemplate if you’re not forced to.
What do you do when you wake up, and this is your reality, this science fiction story in which the heroine faces strange demons in strange lands, and has had implants placed all over her body and is made unconscious regularly and has her energy depleted sometimes for days?
Some would say this is a human rights crime, illegal human experimentation. Others would say it’s spiritual warfare. Others alien warfare. Since I think the rogue state may very well be controlled by “aliens,” and everything has a spiritual component, I assume it is probably all three. And I must fight it on all these levels.
I want to believe I was born into this life because I am strong enough to endure and grow from it, and hopefully will play a positive role in the resolution of this crime on Earth.
Thanks for reading and caring.
I’ve had this thing since the late 1990s (received in Colorado Springs, incidentally). Occasionally, a dental hygienist will pick at it with a note of confusion in her voice, then quickly shut up and dismiss whatever she’d said. I always wondered why it caused confusion, but I never looked at it until yesterday – with my nifty (usb connected) otoscope!
First thing I noticed was that it seems to stand out, a bit away from the tooth, with gaps all around – the sort of thing I’d think would make a dentist want to replace it. But none has ever suggested it.
Next thing I notice is that the tissue at the base it looks very unhappy – as you can see in every photo.
In one photo, I caught an angle low enough to see what appear to be three tiny dots of stain above a generally-stained area.
When I expand the photo a bit, it then appears to be a stain edge around three white dots.
And then I notice that the saliva bubbles at the base of the tooth immediately in front of the three dots, are tiny as if they might be fractured by microwave transmissions from the area of those dots above.
Then notice the gum line farther right – it’s purple! That indicates a lack of blood flow. Why? Microwaves? I dunno.
Back to the stain, I wonder whether there might be three small transmitters at the three dots, sending out microwave energy which weakens the porcelain enough to allow stains to enter, but somehow immediately at the site of the transmitter, it blasts the porcelain clean – okay theory? Tell me yours. You can expand the photo to see the tiny bubbles – a least a dozen.
Further, to the right of the presumed implant, in every single photo and video, there is a white flare on the side of my tooth, in the middle of an area that is generally stained. It’s as if a misdirected stream of microwave energy is blowing out the side and killing all the bacteria trying to make plaque on my tooth. Any other reason for a spot of perfect white in the middle of a stain, right next to an anomaly that’s also making the tissue very unhappy in one place and purple in another?
Sorry I’ve been unable (mind controlled?) to get on the Internet and do simple things like post. But I’m back and I’m going to try to be more consistent.
I’ve been doing better at my , ParadigmSalonVideo on YouTube, and have a lot of stunning information – like video inside my ears, showing that I’ve been illegally implanted with easily-seen, crazy technology that looks like it may be able to receive and transmit sound (am I a walking spy microphone everywhere I go?) and maybe even control me – I’ve certainly felt it done a few times, though I’ve never known exactly how.
At first I was thrilled to have such excellent evidence of the symptoms I’ve been describing for years. And I worried the controllers would remove them before I could document them well and learn who owns the frequencies at which they operate.
To my surprise, it seems they upgraded my implants, probably during the night of May 5-6, because they look different than in the first video (second above). They seem to have incorporated some implants under the skin, creating a structure that blocks half the canal and squeezes the existing elements together; or maybe they were replaced – as the rubber cup that contains it all seems to have changed from clear to yellowish.
It’s shocking to me that they would be so brazen as to upgrade their work even while I’m watching, video recording, and posting it online for all the world to see – IF it’s actually being seen and not hidden by the controllers. It seems to imply that either 1) my suspicion, which I hope is wrong, is actually true, or 2) there’s something so big coming down in the world that my story will never rise to anyone’s attention.
Anyone know a doctor or attorney who wants to weigh in on this?
Those last ear canal implant photos really shook me, and made me want to put my whole crazy story into a nutshell. Here it is.
I seem to have been put on the TI list in 2002 when I was doing international media work for the historic, 6-week federal trial Judi Bari v the FBI. (The FBI was found GUILTY on ALL charges related to – but not including – the 1990 assassination attempt on an environmental activist colleague of mine, Judi Bari, and they feds paid a historic judgement.)
During the trial, I twice experienced waking with my entire body vibrating inside what felt like a “vibrational cocoon,” and my immediate thought was “men in a van with high tech equipment,” and after a second or two of alarm, I went unconscious.
In the 17 years since then, I’ve documented everything anomalous in daily journals, including Taser burns, scoop marks, “donut bruises,” injection bruises, other weird bruises, home break-ins, more vibrational experiences, implants (implanted and removed), tones and chords and even movies played in my head, fingers out of joint, broken toe, back mysteriously and seriously out of alignment, social sabotage, online sabotage, financial sabotage, highway stops, amnesia, and a few events of consciousness while my body was controlled to do things I wouldn’t voluntarily do, and more.
While I lived in the country, the weirdness included a LOT of alien and UFO events, as well as tones, amnesia, immobilization, animal mutilations, and highway stops. When, trying to escape the terror, I moved to a small town, the weirdness changed to include a lot of apparent medical events, such as scoop marks, dentists unnecessarily drilling my teeth and doing other procedures, tones, movies, vibrations, and chiropractic distress. When I fled that locale, the events employed drones, TIPS people, Satanists, and more electronics.
But all this is just one layer on top of a larger story. Just days after the Judy Bari v FBI trial ended, at home, I received an email from a friend who shares a lot of my symptoms, suggesting I check out a few websites, and when I did, I had the answer to a lifetime of weirdness I could never explain; I realized I’d been a mind control subject since childhood.
My father was in the Navy, and adamantly never wanted to talk about it. He was in CASU 33, which has an online discussion group dealing with the “mystery” of this unit. He was also a child actor in Hollywood. And his father was a high-degree Mason. My mother was a “jack Mormon” (fallen away, not a church-goer), and she occasionally took me to that church, where I had mind-blowing experiences for which I’m amnesic, but still remember the rage and distress. I’ve also had one flashback to my babyhood, too young to roll over, in which I was ritually sexually abused, left my body and looked down on the room – with men in a semi-circle, and my mother there, sunk to the floor in horror with her hand over her mouth – so I believe it was a Mormon ritual, not a medical one.
I believe I was chosen for mind control at birth because my birth date is 7-7-52 (7-7-7), on a Monday (Moon day), in the middle of Cancer (Moon Child, ruled by the Moon), and not just on the day of the Full Moon, but within 8 minutes of the precise moment of moon fullness – that’s 2/1,000ths of a degree of perfection – the stuff that Satanists love, and there are Satanists inside the Mormon Church, as well as the military and Masons and the CIA mind control program. I believe my parents were groomed to give me, their first born (or first live-born) child to the mind control program in exchange for some sort of benefit. I don’t think they had any connection to Satanists, except by this accident of cooperating with the CIA or Mormons.
I have two years of almost total amnesia from age 6-8, the same age that other Monarch mind control subjects have amnesia, or memories of torture. I remember the train trip to New Mexico with my mother at age 6, in which we left my father home with three children under 3 1/2 years, including my sister only 6 months old. Supposedly we went to visit my mother’s aunt in New Mexico, but that makes absolutely no sense. Later, I remember being delivered home by four men in military uniforms, and being silently “beside myself” with rage and betrayal. The next year, at age seven, I was left with my grandmother in California, while the rest of the family left and promised to come back to get me “later.” And that’s about all I recall of those two years, whereas I remember a great deal of the years before.
I was the most obedient child I’ve ever heard of. So it was ironic and a therapeutic change when I became a radical environmental activist in my 30s (1980s), engaged in civil disobedience. But I was on the most conservative edge of the movement. I was the one who typed letter-perfect media releases, and only once did anything more daring. For work, I was a community relations consultant to domestic violence organizations, health clinics, community radio, the United Way, and even Earth First! – which eventually took all my time, until Judi’s car bombing in 1990 scared the daylights out of everyone.
Until then, when I set a goal, I accomplished it. I was invited to the Leaders Circle of Tucson Network for Women. I was invited to Leadership Tucson, and spoke twice at their events. I sat on numerous boards. I successfully debated issues on radio and television. And ran a business and raised my two kids (who are wonderful and happy).
My life changed like this: In 1993, age 41 (typical age for the return of traumatic memories), I realized I’d been sexually abused as a child, The next year, I realized I was a multiple personality (common, of course, with childhood sexual abuse) – though I’m not the typical TV/movie extreme type. (All the alters created by my controllers only come out under their command, usually with no memory; but I do have other alters, I believe, spontaneously created by me, and also organized in such a way as to not interfere in my life like the extreme cases.) For the next 8 years, I assumed my not-too-bad multiple-ness was a simple by-product of sexual abuse; in 2002, I realized it had been intentionally created for the purposes of mind control. And that was terrifying. For a few years, I thought of suicide every day.
A unique sort of Multiple Personality
Because my alters are so well controlled, I’ve been fairly successful in life, and maybe the mind control even helped me develop my skills. Almost everything I’ve tried, I’ve been very successful at – except socializing. Because I lived with parents who didn’t talk to me much, I didn’t get to learn social skills til very late, and then after one year of kindergarten, I was put into MK for two years. My social education didn’t begin again until I was 8, and I’ve been working to catch up all my life; therefore, I score on the Asperger’s Scale. Like many female Aspies, though, I did learn to “act normal enough” in most social situations, and sometimes I’ve actually been quite successful, but it’s always required great effort.
What I lacked in social skills, I made up for in academics and employment. I usually score on intelligence tests in the genius range. In school, I won awards in art, acting, dancing, and theater design, and was one of the two top math students in my 3,000-student high school. In my professional life, I’ve won awards or recognitions in sales, fundraising, journalism – and some of these were regional and national recognitions. I’ve been offered six-figure salaries. I’ve taught English at university level and been executive director of a local Habitat for Humanity, overseeing both a store and a home building operation. I’ve designed and built houses and juried into art shows. In some ways, it seems the mind control has served me, or maybe I was already a genius and they just took advantage.
I was married twice, and almost a third time, and have been in other relationships with men that lasted for years, always to men I can see now were also MK subjects who participated in my control, knowingly or unknowingly, helping direct the course of my life. My most recent partner, after I kicked him out, I realized he’d been responsible for the injection bruises that I found on my thighs twice a week for 14 months – they ended when he moved out.
I’m on my own again now, and think I will always be. I’ve had all my lifetime’s financial gains stripped from me, through a series of legal improprieties that I was unable to fight successfully – though I tried, doggedly. I used to have a passive solar home on 20-acres of beautiful land with a creek. Then I had another passive solar home in a small town that I’d turned into a showcase with natural plaster interior sculpture and a magical garden. I was terrorized to flee from it all. Now I have a fifth-wheel in a trailer park and a little truck camper for traveling. And no savings, vulnerable, just like They like it.
Anyway, that’s the overview: TI and MK subject, which includes being multiple (an unfortunate fact that’s unfairly discrediting), with Satanists involved – which some people also find unbelievable and therefore discrediting.
I therefore try to be very careful with my accounts, distinguishing perceptions from assumptions, and documenting everything like a scientist. For awhile my journals were even pure science journals, kept according to scientific protocol.
A few nights ago I finally was able to take photos from deep inside my ears with my new USB-connected otoscope – and I found 4 or 5 implants attached just around the bend. (I recommend others try this too.)
In past years, I’ve documented in various ways implants that I’ve felt activated, or otherwise felt the presence of – in my g-spot, up alongside my clitoral shaft, in my heart (a doctor was shocked to hear it), on my left scapula, and more. All of them were weird, or infuriating, but they were tiny and couldn’t be seen, and easier to push out of my consciousness. These ear canal implants are freakier and are affecting me in a deeper way it’s hard to ignore.
With almost two decades of journals compiled into a database, I’m now working to find patterns and themes and otherwise trying to make the best use of the information.
I offer this data to researchers too.
My ear canal implant blogs are here:
Thank you for educating yourself. May we all grow in greater consciousness and wisdom.
I’m so upset by what I’ve discovered, I can hardly type. I found another button-type implant in my left ear.
And I when pushed the otoscope in deeper, I found more than I can make sense of. At first, I thought the black button above and silver button below were one and the same, just a trick of light, but I see now that the black one is clearly round, and the silver button is clearly square, so that makes two. Then there’s something that looks like a tin-foil covered funnel shape with a base and tiny machinery built into the sides. And below that there’s what looks like a tiny square fold of aluminum. That makes four….
From another angle, the square aluminum actually seems to be two squares, one below the other. That makes five. There may be more, but I’m not sure how much might be light flaring off of simple ear hairs. (I never knew I had so much!)
Just before finding this, I’d found what seems to be a crystal embedded in the outer portion of my ear canal. I’ve touched it there with my fingernail for a least a year and thought it was a pimple; with the otoscope, I found this crystal and took multiple pictures of it from different angles. It looks like a natural crystal pushed into my skin.
Then, after I’d published this, the next night I found yet another implant, in the very bottom of my ear canal, with a hint of an aluminum square in the background. That makes six, in one ear canal! I’m beyond words.
For years, I’ve “known” I had implants in my ears and other places, but confirming it now – and finding the evidence so unexpectedly weird, with multiple iterations of the technology all in one ear – has really shocked me.
And I haven’t even had time to tell you about the second major microwave attack I felt two nights ago….
I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve posted. As you might surmise, I’ve been dealing with some challenges.
The latest is my ears – which have never in my life given me problems, but they’re a mess now, and the doctor didn’t seem interested in offering me anything but Flonase (a common sinus pharmaceutical) to reduce swelling. Not a word about the apparent blood sitting in the bottom of my ear canals or the redness.
As you can see, the pale skin turns to pink and further back it appears to be maroon. There is a pool of shiny reddish black on the bottom and reaching out into the canal – so shiny there’s a clear reflection of the otoscope LED light in every photo of both ears!
And what’s that whitish solid-looking object at the back of the pool in the first photo? I’m tempted to say it’s an implant – round, flat against the wall, more than 1/2 submerged in blood – or maybe it’s an artifact, another light reflection. What do you think?
In all the photos, there is a reflection of the otoscope light somewhere on the apparent pool of blood! Does anyone think this could be anything other than a pool of blood?
I’m probably being silly, but: Apologies for exposing the wax in my ears! They’ve been too swollen for me to do my usual Q-tip cleaning (even though doctors always say don’t do that, I’ve been doing it all my life – with a particular, careful technique – and never had a problem).
Now, I can’t clean them, and it bugs me! I hate having dirty ears, but dirty, swollen, and bloody is pretty upsetting to me.
But that’s not the most important issue.
Researchers tell us that microwave energy – which is what ear implants receive and transmit – can cause cancer if exposed to it constantly. So being implanted with them will create a constant health threat – that we MK subjects can do nothing about.
I remember the health care professional who looked in my ears (after dismissing the photos I’d shown her) and then didn’t want to look for longer than a second or two and didn’t want to acknowledge there was anything strange. I imagine her seeing my ears, maybe even recognizing the implant, and knowing she’d come across a (another?) top secret subject of the government and knew there was a protocol to follow: She’d diagnose and prescribe as little as she could, and get rid of me. If I needed care, the controllers would take care of it on their own schedule. Maybe she even called a secret number.
I don’t know. That’s where my years of personal data collection, occasional online research, and reading of a half-dozen books leads me. I’m open to other interpretations. Please – I’d love your opinions.
The first time I thought I might have been given ear implants was in November 2010. I was working hard to finish the 3-minute video for my book, and this event felt like either retribution or a warning, but I still went forward and published it – and had thousands of views, though the numbers have been running backward over the years.
As a MK subject, I know many of us are created for different purposes, and those purposes can change depending on how well our programming is holding up. Since I was working concertedly to disrupt my programming, I believe they shifted me over to other sorts of research, including being a test subject for various sorts of electronic weaponry and MK technology; therefore, I’ve experience a very wide range of electronic effects on my body.
One of the first ones I recognized and documented was that November 2010 evening. I was sitting sideways on my love seat, reading, with my feet resting against the other end of the seat, when suddenly I felt a distinct circle, about 3 1/2” across, of vibration on my foot, not uncomfortable, just odd, which then began traveling up my ankle and lower leg. Quickly, I pulled my leg toward me and my foot out of the beam’s reach, but within seconds it had found my foot again, this time closer to my body, so I jumped off the seat and stood looking at my furniture and thinking. I was sure that if I sat in any other piece of furniture, the beam would find me, and I didn’t feel like being disrupted repeatedly, ridiculously, futilely. I thought of going to a motel for the night, but I didn’t want to spend the money, and I didn’t have any confidence it would ultimately stop this from happening, either there tonight, or here tomorrow.
It made the most sense to me to accept my fate, go to bed, and let it find me there. I lay down, thinking I’d feel it on my foot, and it would be dreadful anticipating its ultimate whatever-it-was-intending-to-do. To my surprise, there was suddenly a huge circular spot of vibration, about 12 inches across, completely encompassing my head, without needing to find me, as if they’d already mapped where I usually slept. My surprise turned quickly, within the second, to the recognition that I was going unconscious.
The next morning, I woke up with my ears ringing, and they’ve never quit.
About two years ago, after I’d lost my home (due to being terrorized out of there), I was living in a little travel trailer, standing in front of my sink, next to my bed, when I suddenly had the surprising realization that I was REALLY tired, and felt the distinct decision that I’d do something extremely rare for me – I’d take a nap – only I didn’t get to climb into bed before I simply fell on the bed and went unconscious.
Three hours later, my phone rang and woke me from such a stupor that I could barely make intelligible statements. Thank goodness it was a friend calling, one of the very few in my life who acknowledge what I’m living with, and she helped me come to terms with what had happened – and the frustration that I could barely contain the constant urge to shake my head because it felt like there was water in my left ear. The urge stayed for three days, during which time I imagined my controllers had planted an implant in my ear which was causing the sensation, or maybe they’d even punctured my ear drum to place one behind, where it would be cleverly hidden from doctor sight.
After that, a new type of hum has been fairly constant in my left ear, leading me to want to purchase the video otoscope (less than $20 online, works with any camera app) to see if I could capture any evidence of an implant.
There are times the humming is constant and intense, and I’ve tried ear plugs, which does create a white noise that softens the effect a bit. On the worst days, I’ve tried heavy-duty layers of foil over my head, but it seems the transmission can be bounced from different angles and eventually finds a way in, and sometimes it feels like the aluminum is reflecting and multiplying it, and I throw it off.
Sometimes prayer works.
Most of the time, I just try to ignore it, and sometimes I take my own advice and try to think of this as a spiritual challenge – and then I try to find other wavelengths to which to entrain my mind, trying to disconnect from the entrainment of that particular vibration, and sometimes I feel I’ve been successful.
There have been many other events with my ears, but those are the major ones since the controllers (as I imagine it) put me on the Electromagnetic Subject list.
Again, I welcome all insights. I certainly don’t have time to do a lot of research, so if you reference anything technological, please include some source material. Thanks!!
Watching an old Jesse Ventura show on Targeted Individuals – gratified that he’s found medical and other professionals willing to put their names on the line to testify about this experience.
Wish I’d seen this five years ago. Now, it’s helped inspire me to gather my energy to write again about something of the last two years.
So much has happened that I’ve recorded in one way or another but haven’t published – keeping it secret, testing “giving it no energy,” to see if it’ll go away. It hasn’t.
“Voices in their heads,” Jesse calls it, but there is so much more to being a TI. I’ll finish up this blog with an account of my experience of electronic experiments, and follow with one on social harassment, aka gang stalking.
One of the first times I felt subjected to a beam, it felt like an experiment that involved tracking. Sitting sideways on my sofa, I first felt a spot of vibration about four inches wide moving about on my foot, then moving up my ankle and lower leg.
I pulled my leg in, telling myself it could just be my foot and leg falling asleep, but it touched my foot again, causing me to jump up off the sofa. Flash on options: sit on sofa again, other end, bed, kitchen, nowhere to go, it’s going to get me wherever I go, and so I lay in bed, resigned, expecting the buzz to hit a foot again, but instead my head was suddenly encompassed in a buzzing circle, after which I remember nothing. Next morning, my ears were ringing, and they’ve never stopped. I’ve lost the entire top half of my hearing range.
Musical tones have sometimes put me “to sleep” and sometimes woken me up. Once a torturously-loud, high-pitched tone sent me running to find my iPod to play a particular self-hypnosis recording that seemed the most powerful relaxation resource I had – but the recording had mysteriously disappeared from my device, leaving only one other self-hypnosis product, which I’d purchased but never listened to because I suspected it had mind control programming in it.
In the pause before hitting Play, I felt I was being compelled to listen to this recording, and it would be dangerous for me, but I’d be further tortured if I didn’t, so I submitted, and the torturous pitch gave way to a calm, gentle voice encouraging me along a path in a light-dappled woods. I must have gone unconscious because I remember nothing else of the recording, just woke with my ears ringing, for years now.
I’ve also experienced movies suddenly playing in my head – and I mean literal movies, not like a memory I could pause or meander with. The first looked like a 1960’s, black-and-white home movie of a family at the marina, young teens self-conscious of their manners, boarding their boat, turning, arranging themselves, waving at the camera. I chose not to pay attention to it, and chose not to give it any emotional energy.
Another movie suddenly played in my head was of a dusty Third World road with people, animals, carts, the camera moving along with the traffic, chest high. Once, two movies played on top of each other! Every time, I chose not to pay attention to them – let them go blurry, give them no emotion.
One afternoon last year I was standing in my travel trailer home near my bed when I suddenly felt an extreme urge to lie down and was unconscious by the time I hit the bed. I woke hours later with what felt like water in my ear. Living alone out in the country, I didn’t find anyone to look in my ear until it had healed. The water sensation stayed for three days.
The one time I actually heard a clear communication it wasn’t necessarily with clear words. It was as if they had a map of ideas I’d already developed among my theories, and they merely touched on one after another after another, building their story, concluding with the end of the Earth-human experiment (ending because we keep devolving too radically between their uplifting visits). The “second chance” that Jehovah or Enlil/Enki of the Sumerian records had been played out, and we were not going to get another chance. God, or the Aliens, are done with us.
Because the whole thing felt so scripted and imposed upon me, I chose not to believe it, but I could NOT ignore it – it overwhelmed all other thought.
In the city I often feel targeted by extremely unpleasant vibrations hidden under a heavy bass in the music of a passing vehicle. It’s so powerful, I assume it must be directed narrowly toward my home. I finally learned a response that empowers instead of weakens me: I call out a sort of war-cry to override whatever it is and keep it up as long as it keeps up. Interestingly, it seems as though my war cry makes it end sooner.
Finally, I’ve also experienced something I think I’ve heard called “thought transference.” While lying in bed relaxing to sleep, I seemed to suddenly experience the mind of someone else, for instance a hairdresser with her hands in plastic gloves, looking down, seeing them squishing around in someone’s scalp, parting wet hair to pull strands through a cap for coloring – or something that looked and felt like this action I’ve heard about but never saw. Unlike film, this experience contained peripheral vision, and the feeling and even bored thoughts of the person doing the work made me feel like I was in someone else’s body for a little while. Again, I chose to withdraw my participation, and it faded quickly.
I’ll be reviewing my journals to see what other electronic experiments I’ve experienced and add them. My fractured mind is too tired right now to get into researcher mode. I’ll post right now so it doesn’t wait for two years.
And hope to post soon about the social harassment, gang stalking.
I used to wonder what was wrong with me. I called myself shy, then neurotic, and eventually, in my early 40s realized I’d been sexually abused as a child. The next year, I realized I was also dissociative, fractured, amnesic, and had been for most of my life.
Just before I turned 50 I realized I’d not only been sexually abused, but had also been tortured, intentionally to make me dissociative, the foundation to controlling my mind. This was a task carried out by various parties, overseen by CIA psychiatrists, with assistance from the Mormon Church and other groups throughout my life.
Throughout my life, I’ve also tested at genius levels, in school, on MENSA and Air Force tests, and often won awards my first year in a field, from art to sales and fundraising. This is either a positive effect of mind control, or maybe they chose me for their project because they knew I was smart, or maybe only the smart ones survive.
A year or two ago, I learned I score borderline on the Asperger’s Scale, though I was very “Aspie” when I was young. While the majority of Aspies consider themselves different by virtue of their genetics, one-third of us identify as different because of our upbringing.
Falling on the Aspergers Scale might be a natural outcome of the childhood training. To progress as far as I have is not uncommon for Aspie women; with enough motivation, or pressure, it’s possible to study people and in decades of practice, figure out how to act almost normal. Now that I pass (barely, borderline on the scale), I enjoy socializing for an hour or two, at most, but I often feel mentally numb afterwards. I relate to Dr. Spock and the newest depiction of Sherlock Holmes – both mystified as I am by common conversation. I remember judging adult conversation quite harshly also when I was very young, as if I had some other standard against which to judge. Maybe I came from somewhere else? Could that be why they chose me?
I’ve called myself a “high-functioning multiple personality” – though my alters are not nearly as dramatic nor as distinct as the individuals chosen for movie scripts. My alter changes have gone mostly unnoticed for all of my life. This helped me hold the attitude, after I realized the extent of my fractures, that with the help of my spiritual Guides, I could heal myself and recover my life – even though the literature warns against such high expectations, unless one is young and has a great deal of money and support. I have none of those things.
When I am more realistic, I think it only my right to end my life, but no one will agree with me on that. I’m sure that if I went to Oregon, or any other state with right-to-die laws, I’d qualify: I have a) a disease that cannot be cured, b) which harms my quality of life irredeemably, and c) [I forget the third qualifier, but I’ll fill this in soon].
Why I don’t believe in suicide is because…
1) I think it only honest to remember that we could be wrong in interpreting our perceptions – since we see so little of the material world as compared to what we can perceive with technology – we see only a fraction;and some people say it’s all illusion anyway, or at least that we “see through a glass darkly.” I assume it’s true, because I’ve had my ecstatic times when I saw something in another realm that I couldn’t remember but the conclusion was happiness and the assurance that, regardless of what appears, everything’s going to be alright – or at least I think I saw and knew that. (Maybe it was mind control. If so, we’ll need to revisit my assumptions.)
2) Everything we see has already been interpreted for us by those who’ve gone ahead of us, in our language, entertainment, religion, politics, and education. Somewhere, we might have been helped to construct an incorrect framework for current interpretations.
3) Someone once suggested that if we bail out on this life, we’ll just have to come back and do it again, like the Truman Show, and I don’t want to take that risk. Since I’ve always felt that our culture won’t last much longer, I always assume it’s not that much more to endure.
So, I’m hanging in.
Two years ago I was at my wit’s end, having woken in my bed, feeling something terrible had been done to me. With great difficulty, I rolled off the bed and arranged myself upright to walk, and slowly shuffled to the bathroom. When I saw my face in the mirror, I turned back to the living room to get my phone and shuffled back to the bathroom mirror and snapped a photo.
My facial muscles were slack, the tissues puffy, my eyelids sagging, my left eyeball turned inward. The overall impression was that I’d been beat up, only there was no discoloration.
What had been done to me? (A normal photo is included for comparison.)
I’d recently summarized all my journals into a master database, so I could see whether the frequency of these events was increasing. In 2010, I’d had only 38 days disturbed by bizarre events, in 2015 I’d had 130 days in which I’d either had a bizarre experience that had rocked my equanimity or I was recovering from something mysterious. One-third of my days. Obviously, this interfered with making a living and all the other aspects of living a life. I was unable to keep up with home and garden maintenance, payments, anything.
At my wit’s end, I asked nearly every family for something. My son I asked to make payments on my house, since he often said he felt guilty for not saving anything when he had so much money flowing through. I asked my siblings to read a three page summary of all the weirdness, and I sent them that photo above, but between the three of them I got back only two sentences: One couldn’t give me money (I hadn’t asked), and the other would pray for me. My son didn’t answer. I asked my daughter for nothing, since she’d let me know very clearly she thought I was only suffering from my own mistakes. When my father learned I was planning to sell my home, he offered to make the payments for me, but by then I only wanted out of the house where I felt like a sitting duck, and I declined his offer. Perhaps that was a mistake.
I sold my home as fast as I could and found myself inside a major psy op (psychological operation, which I’ll describe soon) designed to squash every bit of energy out of me – for what purpose? Punishment from my controllers for my sin of speaking against the FBI, CIA, Mormon Church, Vatican, and others? Is it entertainment for some psychopaths? Or is my anguish “food” for the Archons (as the gnostic Christians described in ancient texts)? Are they (mind controllers, psychopaths, and Archons) all the same?
Subjects of psy ops are called “targeted individuals,” or “TI’s.” Some are mind control subjects, but all are people who’ve somehow gotten on someone’s shit list.
For awhile I had a theory that they tortured me the worst when I published, so I quit publishing; but recently, my torture has been so great, I’ve decided there’s no need for me to keep this stuff a secret any more.
The other reason I keep it secret is that people can hardly believe it, and the last thing I need is people thinking I made shit up. That’s why I take photos and document as thoroughly as possible.
But I don’t want to keep the secrets any more. I see online that the numbers of people suffering from this targeting is much larger than I’d realized. So people need to know. And I’m a writer, and it’s happening to me. So here goes.
Coming soon, my last two years of harassment….
There is so much healing in bringing secrets into the light.
Well-written, well-delivered, with powerful visuals, without hyperbole or excess drama, documented, historical, contemporary, comprehensive in scope, covering efficiently all that can be covered in an hour, and covering it fairly, as far as I can say, as one who is a subject.
Total Mind Control, a new documentary, by Jay Myers
I’m so gratified to see the secret drama of my life brought into the light. So gratified.
Please watch and share.
It’s the time of the Revealing….
Of course, I could write a book on this year, but I don’t want to.
Instead, here is an exceedingly brief outline of the types of things, resulting in programming, I’ve lived through this year – including electronic, pharmaceutical, physical (including rape), phone, drone, computer, social sabotage, surveillance, and more. I extracted them from my year’s daily journals.
[In the middle of the year, I decided I had to get out of Silver City as fast as I could, and I sold my home below market and fled – only to land in a more precarious situation. (The advice on “Targeted Individuals 101” says to not let Them force you from your home, but I didn’t read that in time, and I did lose my home.) I am now floating from place to place in a travel trailer, with a few friends who understand my situation.]
Here’s the super-brief list of my year’s anomalies:
electronic tones and feelings of electronic harassment, ringing ears
scoop marks, injection bruises, puncture mark
sore feet, numb shoulder, wrenched back, all for no reason
apparent rapes (Jan, Feb, Sept , December at least), with anal/vaginal irritation, herpes
dissociation, not knowing who or where I am
cat also perceiving strange noises in house
“healer” sets me up for programming I remember, but not his message
hit by light beam from neighbor house to third eye -> severe ache
many events of amnesia, missing time, once 11 days in row
confusion, exhaustion, sickness, heart issues, can’t eat
disabling fear, for many days
sometimes energy too high to slow down or sleep
panic attacks, crying for days
computer remote controlled
weird phone calls and messages
social sabotage, acquaintances acting weird
feeling alter switches, doing stupid things, feeling confused
two lumps on thumb, no reason
portable door locks disappeared, then returned to same place
passcode book and flash drive disappeared and returned month later
four financial websites hacked in one day
psychic messages taunting “You’re already in; resistance is futile.”
feeling severely poisoned
efforts to sell on eBay begin well then are sabotaged repeatedly until I quit it
23 severe challenges piled on in a few days, lasting through September and October
acted like MK subject, totally trusting and stupid, when buying trailer – with many problems
drone delivers nauseating electronic vibration to my chest
neighbor’s vibration also nauseates
people/vehicles surveilling me obviously
friend seems to participate in things lost and other anomalies
BrainWave app acting on its own 3 times
amnesia event with days of exhaustion and water in ear
traffic harassment while camping and throwing of cans at trailer
radio turning itself on
apparent MK dog (!) visited, wouldn’t leave me or my front door, even under threat of violence
passcodes work, don’t work, work, don’t work
unnatural banging on my trailer roof, unable to look
obvious knocking on my window, not afraid but unable to look
trailer buzzed by 5-6 planes in a row, first very close
trailer buzzed by two helicopters, followed by incapacitation for day
altered state with instructions can’t remember
lost time with weird consequence while on highway
nights of weird noises in truck, incapacitated, couldn’t look out window
altered state with missing time, door found unlocked
altered state, received instructions, agreed, unable to remember
altered state while listening to other MK subject testimony online
Back in March, after one of the worst amnesic events of my life, I woke to see a face in the mirror I hardly recognized, so I took this photo to document it. Notice my face is slack and puffy, including my nose, and my left eye is turned inward.
Hoping for understanding and maybe help from my siblings (silly me), I sent them a long letter, explaining everything (edited for three days so as to be as concise and clear as possible), and ending with this photo. Between the three of them, I received back two sentences, apologizing that they couldn’t help me, or offering to counsel me in prayer. Devastated that no one in my family seemed to believe this harassment is real, I decided I had no choice but to sell my home and flee.
I’m doing fine most days, and most people who know me don’t know what I go through (or they don’t believe), and I even appear happy and healthy most days (when I go out), and I know people think I’m lazy or living on a secret fund because I “don’t work,” though they don’t know I’m going into debt every month. (When I’m well, I’m usually running to catch up on what I couldn’t do when I was not well, and so have very little time for anything before I’m hit with harassment again.)
I do hope to find work that I can do on my own time, and hope to find that time, and hopefully keep my finances above water – as soon as I make the next move, as this camping site is no longer available. It seems the harassers have a wealth of tricks to keep their targets always recovering, running, coping, but I still hope to find those slivers of time to make money.
Yes, I do have many days of wishing I was not alive, but mostly I am determined to rise above, to use this extraordinary challenge to connect with spiritual Help and lift my spirit and soul into some sort of transcendence beyond this Earthly harassment.
Thanks for reading and acknowledging this reality.
Prayers for help for us all.
Eve Lorgen, author and counselor for those with “anomalous trauma,” offers an online support group now and then.
I’ve always been too afraid to participate, afraid that my stuff was too different, or that I might distrust people in the group, or it wouldn’t do me any good.
Today was the first day I participated in one, and I’m pleased I did.
Coincidentally, I had listened to a radio interview with Dr. John Hall, MD, about electronic harassment of targeted individuals (which fits the patter of my last 14 years), in which he mentioned the BrainWave binaural brain entrainment system (whopping price of $3.99, an app on iTunes).
I tried it out and had an immediate relaxation response, as if something electrically depressing had been cancelled or dampened. So I’ve been wearing earbuds now fairly frequently for two and a half days.
(I’m not crazy about the idea of using technology to protect myself – I’d assumed spiritual protection would be all, but I’ve failed and have felt close to death a great deal this last year. So I’m happy to accept this technological crutch and am thinking of it as a metaphor, that perhaps I might emulate psychically.)
These two and a half days since feeding simple frequencies into my ear canals, I’ve had impressive energy, a positive mood, and focus enough to finish an important task I had not been able to focus on for a year. Of course, maybe it’s just how I would have felt anyway, but I’m going to give them a thumbs up.
So, feeling stronger than I have in a long time, I took a job application I’d filled out last December to the business this morning, and was offered a job in the afternoon – for two workdays, just as I wanted, and exactly the situation I asked for. Law of Attraction? Working for me??
We know that sometimes everything can seem go against us at once, so it’s good to remember that sometimes everything can go for us too. And then it’s time to be grateful and go with it.
I’ll talk about other good stuff happening in my next post.
The John Hall radio interview I wrote about recently has given me hope that we can find ways to protect ourselves from electronic harassment.
I decided first to try “binaural brainwave entrainment.”
The impressive results over just a day and a half are only anecdotal, of course, and could very well be coincidental, but here they are:
Supposedly, binaural brainwave entrainment helps some to cancel out electronic harassment. John Hall mentioned the Banzai Labs company in particular, here: http://www.banzailabs.com/brainwaveapps.html.
I downloaded their modestly-priced app on my iPhone (“best reviewed app of its kind in the iTunes app store”/$3.99 – can also be used with other products) and walked around all day yesterday, plus the night before, with various tones humming behind music in my ear buds.
(Even though I don’t usually keep my iPhone near me, I was motivated to at least try it for a few days.)
The sound experiences cause the hemispheres of the brain to entrain at frequencies associated with peace, or well-being, sleep, focus, concentration, stress-relief, etc – you choose what you want on a simple dial. You can layer over a variety of relaxing music – or even your own.
To my surprise, I woke up yesterday at 2:30 am (!) and felt well rested, energized, and ready to work! Got up at 3, thinking I’d definitely need a nap, but instead – with the ear buds in all day – I worked with “concentration,” sat in the garden with “relaxation” or “stress-relief” when I was beginning to feel stressed – and I worked VERY productively until 11 pm, and needed very little of my relaxing herbs that day. I then went to bed at 11:30, slept well again, and woke this morning at 5:30, feeling very well-rested and looking forward to the day. What a relief!
The productivity of my day was wonderful! I got a series of complicated projects completed that I’ve been unable to even face for a year! I finally cleared a number of important projects off my desk. Worked creatively too. Visited one friend in person, and enjoyed a long talk with another friend last night. I even responded to my cat’s many requests throughout the day that I go out in the garden with her for a little break – and I took quite a few nice breaks yesterday.
Was it a coincidence? Did the controllers also coincidentally give me something that first night to give me energy? (I have absolutely believed they have that capability and have done it to me.) Or was it my expectations? Or – as is John Hall’s theory – did I block the electronic harassment and get back my normal, productive mind?
I want to believe this is possible. I don’t want to believe that, via electronics, thousands of us can be harassed mercilessly until we die.
Of course, I can’t help but notice that my left shoulder (yeah, the left shoulder) is buzzing again, like crazy. I took off my ear buds and set them on either side of the new implant site, and while there the buzzing was gone. Removed, it began buzzing again after a minute or so. Retested, again it stopped then began buzzing like crazy again, as it has all year. It’s not the worst; at best, it’s a reminder of what I face, keeping me serious about my healing needs.
As with any technology, as soon as we find a work-around, they’ll be working on their own work-around, so we’ll probably need to keep vigilant, keep educating ourselves, keep sharing ideas, and keep praying for direction. And that’s not a bad thing; it’s good.
Sometimes I think of this as all a test. We might think it feels cruel, like torture, and I can be ready to give up and die. But before I’m in total, absolute despair, they always back off, leave me alone, and I build myself back up again. But that’s not enough.
What’s the lesson? If it is a test, if we’re not entirely powerless, which I don’t believe we are, what is the lesson??? What are we to learn from this torturous experience?
I want to believe that we are only faced with threats on Earth for a reason – to learn how to deal with them. And one of them might be to learn how to manage our own bio-electric systems to a degree we’ve never yet considered possible before. And I’m ready to take that on.
Indeed, as multi-dimensional beings, we exist on other dimensions – vibrational realms, even though we may not access it consciously very often. Since this is part of our multi-dimensional nature, maybe we’re called – as part of our next evolutionary learning – to develop this awareness and these skills, the same way we’ve been learning this century to manage nutrition, exercise, and attitude. Bio-electricity is our next challenge.
Maybe? Well, I’m game. My new goal is to imagine the extent to which we might have un-examined and under-utilized power.
John Hall had more to write about mental entrainment (generally, not just electronically) to the controller’s games – and that’s what I’ll write about next.
Thanks for reading, Friends.
Anomalous weirdness seemed to be increasing, so last January I decided to comb through every journal of mine and record the anomalies since I published RattleSnake Fire, and then record all the anomalies in my book and before my book – the entire rest of my life, as much as I could remember. I put them all in a master database, with dates and places and other notations, and they total over 700 events!
Some were flesh-and-bones type of events; other were purely psychic, as if in other realms, but consistent with common theories of mind control and psychic attack.
When I checked to see how many occurred in these recent years, I found that, yes, things are accelerating: I’ve had over half – over 390 anomalous events – since I published my book in January 2008.
Now, anomalous doesn’t mean “bad,” as some anomalies were healing and spiritual insights that made me blissful and came on like a “download.” So, I colored the supposedly “good” anomalies in green and blue, and I colored the shocking, frightening ones in orange and red. Those latter outnumbered the positive by 3 or 4 to 1.
Since there were so many, it was hard to wrap my mind around them, so I made an abbreviated list of the biggies – below.
This is not a comprehensive list, only those I wrote in my journal, sometimes I was too messed up to journal for days and might have forgotten to make a record; sometimes I missed things because I was amnesic; and a few journals seem to have gone missing for much of July 2013-July 2014, so I don’t know how much I missed there. But it’s a good start.
I’ve separated the “challenges” from the “blessings” – and I’ve written with extreme brevity, so they might not sound like much, but in context, believe me, they were.
You’ll notice the few from 2008-2009 (July – July) slowly grow to larger numbers in recent years:
(If anyone finds these familiar, I hope they give you solace that you’re not alone.)
July 2008 – July 2009 Challenges:
a spiritual attachment
Psychic (freak-out) reaction to a stranger
July 2008 – July 2009 Blessings:
magical message from shaman
July 2009 – July 2010 Challenges:
Suspicious lover from teen years called, seducing
experienced conscious MK rape
MK’d to go somewhere, a test
computer weirdness x 3
eyes in mirror not mine
saw demon face over friend’s face
saw etheric safe in my back, and removed it, but not man’s hand also there!
July 2009 – July 2010 Blessings:
multiple self re-knitting
avoid brain balancing “offer” from suspect doctor
“cowboy cataract” healed instantaneously
two alters see each other
July 2010 – July 2011 Challenges:
Weird, amnestic stop on Highway 90
new door lock broken
sleep anomaly x 10+
weird and mysterious obsession over friend
3 puncture cuts
4 scoop marks
other weird bruises x 4
inch-deep puncture up beside clitoris
spine mysetriously hurt
tones in ears
beam follows me around house
next morning: ears ringing badly, never quit
house entered, things moved, hot water in tap on New Years, footsteps in snow
old high school friend reconnects; wrote fiction (of me) as MK assassin
bad energy sensed powerfully from across street
noises in house
etheric Aries sign attacked me and stuck to my forehead in energy realm
woman in house makes toilet overflow x 2
message from dark side: I’m “already in”
Despite documentation and no contrary theories, Dr. calls me delusional
Bad spirit in a basket (blessing: I eject and bring it to heal or depart in garden)
July 2010 – July 2011 Blessings:
blue-green energy healing alters
person inside me helping
another healing x 2
nighttime healings x ?
seeing energy, controlling it
yogi comes in
felt g-spot heal
understanding, writing about the cruel teacher
email warning: new Friend/CIA –
life-threatening email, took to police –
postal mail: I’m an MK slave, may lose my soul – (all 3 in 1 week)
weird sleep and exhaustion x 16+
bruises x 3+
needle bruises x 34
4-5 clear tones
2 scoop marks
injured back/no reason x 2
neck out, rib out- pain
weird neck problems x 3
Wake to find friend whispering/instructing me x 2
realize MK as child on vacations, collapse to floor
iridescent golden mucous glob from sinus
felt severely drugged
weird answering machine message
phone interruption: “record again”
happy drug? too much energy
male friend confirms Archons
shamanic journey: saw programming in Akron, age 19, painful, terrifying
“dream” of waiting obediently
dream: audition, girls lifting skirts
dream of extra-dimensional powers and astral spying
dream of spying
dream of fire under house
dreams of tunnels, transportation
possible abduction dream
intense forgotten dream
dream of pre-school, computer pass codes, remote command hand tools
July 2011-July 2012 Blessings:
dream of friend that comes true
feeling strong despite all weirdness
7 months of nothing significant
strong recovery from spiritual attack
recognized MK command to not have orgasm
shamanic journey: removed hooks from spine and neck
shamanic journey: alters back, bad energy removed, neck fixed
July 2012 – July 2013 Challenges:
exhausted x 18+
wrenched back x 2, displaced C2
neck hurt x 2, headache, out of it
jaw locked, wouldn’t open
red line in eye
anxiety, unable to center self
more weird bruises
ears ringing bad
harassing mental video
computer x 2 and phone weirdness
strange drivers license discovered in my wallet, frightened, called police; afterward no memory of name or face on license
lost time w friend
amnesia, friend no help
email about amnesia – totally forgotten
MK on Christmas Eve
dream of space ship, large marble building, dead body
dream of staircase to other country
dream remote viewing tidal wave, sold on MK
plus events in 2013 – journals missing
July 2012 – July 2013 Blessings:
bolt of healing energy from almond tree
exhaled huge psychic sludge
healing contortions night and morning
July 2013 – July 2014 Challenges:
camping horror: apparent abduction, noro virus, almost died (others went to hospital), people sabotage my sleep
friend scares me
consistent sabotage before my scheduled workshops
many injection bruises, weekly
exhaustion with lots of sleep until I quit my business, then felt better
(journals irregular or lost)
July 2013 – July 2014 Blessings:
none (2013 journals disappeared)
“something done in night” x 6+
long sleep and exhaustion x 46
donut bruises x2
injection bruises x 8, “2x/wk”
other bruises x 10
heart racing/hurting x 11
jaw painful x 6
scoop marks x 5
numb shoulder x 3
hypersensitive hip x 2
missing time x 8
movies in head x 3, sometimes forgotten
strange noises x 2
vaginal, anal irritation x 2
Thanksgiving: vision, drugged, unable to stand, walk, see; friend incongruous; memory of anal “inoculation”
rage x 9
back wrenched x2
new herpes x 2
gouges both forearms
irritation on thigh
woke w busted thumbnail
woke, peed in bed, total exhaustion with other extreme symptoms
woken by Ultra Low Frequency
tones, sometimes waking me
“vampire” scabs on neck, first day of UFO Congress
cut on left finger
itching hands, arms
triangle dots on hand
ringing in ears (always)
huge, bubbly, iridescent gold mucous from sinus
visions amazing, then forgotten
saw red UFO, hard sleep
Disqus (never heard of) has account in my name [never fixed – why?]
missing time w friend
See friend in other dimension, scary
Rage 2 days
Knew I’d been electroshocked, found it amusing
Voice 2 Skull transmission test
downloads to hidden alter: “MK is All”
dream of remote viewing
alien dreams, anxiety
July 2014 – July 2015 Blessings:
watched Dragonfly hatch
in meditation, see spinning child, calm her
met inner Jessie
saw old and young selves in mirror
spiritual house cleaning
spontaneous healing of heart
spiritual clearing, spell broken, alters calibrated
inner Rolfer/yogi healing
spiritual message: “You can’t keep ignoring us; do shamanic work”
2 healing events
END OF 63rd year (end of 7th 9-YEAR CYCLE) . . .
(Beginning 8th 9-year Cycle):
July 2015 – January 2016 Challenges:
Sense of something done to me in night x 2
absolute exhaustion x 39 (half-year 40/180 = 22% of days!)
puncture wound left thigh
back problem x 2
blood clot from nose
daytime altered state with download
tone x 3, once with chord following
woken by pounding heart x 2
heart pain x 7, once preceded by low vibration
heart anxiety x 12
vibration in head
ligament mysteriously inflamed in left pelvis
headache, mind scrambled
downloads x 2
download about old friend, weird, believable?
meditate -> crazy distractions
dream: something put in old clock, next day clear new tone from clock!
dream: answering machine gives series of numbers
waking life: answering machine leaves speeded up message (so couldn’t understand); intended to save, but deleted it
father’s Navy record suspect of special project subject
reconnect w old friend, seems another MK subject
Severe RAGE x2
burn on back of neck
2 scoop marks on upper spine
July 2015 – July 2016 Blessings:
Exhaustion of many days suddenly “turned off,” as by switch; feel instantly great
saw face as half-shaman
Mother Goddess real
meditation on Earth’s sexual abuse history – long, forever, won’t quit
alters lined up
“walk-in” suggests she can take over; I don’t agree
MK is just what is, always, can’t resist, don’t fight
plant diva: submission to other’s control is part of life. Let go.
We are like plants tended by indifferent or ignorant gardeners, not evil. Only as unconscious as us.
Bloom where you’re planted, despite all.
Comments, friends? Seems clear to me that I fit the pattern of an MK subject and targeted individual with a bit of spiritual and mystic experiences giving me occasional hope to keep me going.
You’d think that if you were watching a movie, and the camera zoomed in on the watch that the main character wore and kept checking, so tight a zoom that the watch face more than filled the screen, you’d notice the time. And you’d especially notice the time if the character repeated the action and the director repeated the zoom four or five times.
Not me. And because the time – always the same – was critical to the plot about time loops, I didn’t understand the movie until my friend told me the time was always 7:42 (or whatever; I don’t remember).
Realizing what I had stubbornly refused to see – at least with my conscious mind – was a powerful shock and an important and helpful wake-up call. My recent life, the last 22 years, has been a series of such shocks and awakenings.
It was the spring of 1994 when I realized, to my horror, that I was a “multiple personality.” In the 22 years since, I’ve realized I’m a unique sort of multiple – not the kind with random parts that highjack the system and lead crazy-making alternative lives for hours or years at a time.
No, my “system” [multiple personality jargon] seems to be quite organized in comparison, and even to function well enough that I’ve won awards and national and international recognitions for achievements in everything from news reporting and fundraising to videography and Permaculture education. This isn’t unusual for multiples, as many of us are geniuses.
My system of alternate personalities – I believe I have a wealth of evidence to prove – was crafted by psychiatrists and mind control researchers beginning shortly after I was born. My history begins with the CIA’s Human Ecology Project (a front for mind control research) on the campus of UC Davis, where I lived from age 3 days to 14 months. After that, we moved to Merced where the cousin of the Secretary of the Interior, Addison Udall, was my pediatrician. After my 1st and 2nd grades, for which I have total amnesia, my family moved into a new custom home that backed up to or near a home of Stewart Udall.
My history continues matching many aspects of the stories of other mind control subjects around the United States and Canada who’ve either published their stories, testified before Congress, or whose counselors or therapists have told their stories, or whose details have been compiled in research.
My mind control programming seems to have been constructed along the lines detailed by DC Hammond, the psychiatrist who first came forward and described this problem and its possible cure to the American Psychological Association in the 1980s; and by the controversial researcher Fritz Springmeyer, who presents a diagram of typical alters, scores or hundreds, constructed in shells, like a computer program, making it possible for someone to command a particular alter to perform a particular function perfectly when, where, and as desired by the use of cues, similar to pass codes, which access programs which are regularly reinforced and updated. So my multiple-ness doesn’t function randomly or dysfunctionally, as movies and books often portray, but precisely according to some Master Controller’s plan. Usually.
There are exceptions to this, of course. All us mind control subjects, for instance, writing books and testifying was not in the controllers’ plan. Because this is research, not perfected yet. Some of us early research subjects, from the late forties and early fifties, are in our sixties now, and that means that brain cells aren’t being replaced as rapidly, and mental things are deteriorating. What deteriorates might be “simple memory,” as the average person might think of it, but the brain cells lost might also be part of an amnesic wall or part of a program – meaning that we might begin to remember things we’re not supposed to remember, or we might begin not following commands we’re supposed to follow. Indeed, around age 40 – as brain research predicts – I began to remember what I wasn’t supposed to remember.
At first I ignored it, thought it some weird aberration, for which I invented all sorts of theories to override the one thing it seemed to be, put it all in a box, on a high shelf in a mental closet, shut the door, and didn’t think about it again for four years, until another break-through memory happened again. Then I repeated the process: in the box, on the shelf (saved without looking or mentally tampering, to maybe investigate later), shut the door, and forgot.
After another four years and a sudden crisis of cancer, divorce, moving with teens, one seriously ill, and a nervous breakdown – I went to a therapist’s office, listed my challenges, and followed them with words that had never crossed my frontal cortex until I heard my mouth speaking them – quite the surprise: “I think I’ve been sexually abused as a child. [shocked pause] No, no, that’s not what I meant to say. I don’t want to deal with that. I never even thought about it before [lie], and don’t know where it came from. I have more serious, immediately pressing needs to talk about.”
And so began my 22-years-and-counting journey toward understanding what’s been going on with my mind. The first year, 1993-1994, I coped with the shock of memories of sexual abuse and the spells of amnesia that had plagued me. The next 8 years I coped with the shock and self-diagnosis of Multiple Personality Syndrome (aka Dissociative Disorder). And the following/recent 14 years, I’ve been trying to figure out what to do with the understanding that I’ve been – not just a regular “multiple” – but a mind-control subject, someone with a psychological and psychiatric “technology” applied to multiple alters in me – created intentionally – your tax dollars at work.
So what does this have to do with not noticing the time? I can only guess, but I know that we can be programmed for any number of things, to support a program of any purpose, sometimes because a subject is being actively used for intelligence purposes (seems unlikely at my age, but possible), and sometimes because a subject is being used for research in new programming techniques, drugs, working with aging subjects, etc.
When I don’t notice the time, it’s easier for my controllers to use me and have me not notice.
In 1994, deep in my initial nervous breakdown depths, I was powerfully moved by the idea that it would be good for me to anchor myself fully in the time cycles of sun and moon and not by clock and calendar, and I lived that way in my hermitage for half of each week while commuting the other half of the week to school in the city. I thought it was a very spiritual concept, a psychic liberation from the broadcast mind control of Gregorian Calendar and chaotic clock; but it could also have been that I was given the command to stop watching the clock, so that I could be more easily used while alone in the desert. In 2000, when I began living there full-time, I quit noticing the time entirely, unless I needed to know.
If forced to look at a clock, as in the movie, I studied the craftsmanship of the frame, or the lighting or camera operator’s techniques. Sometimes, lately, because I’m trying to re-ground myself in time, I see and note the time, and then moments later realize I’ve forgotten it.
I’m still trying to figure out my brain, and try not to feel too bad for finding it so difficult; after all, the government spent a great deal of money and science to keep me from knowing. So I take heart in whatever little scraps of understanding I can gain.
How do we keep going? Maybe Spirit. Maybe our programming. I ask this question often.
In either case, it is usually lonely, because virtually everyone falls in one of two camps: it doesn’t happen, or the likelihood is slim; or they know but they just don’t want to hear about it, sorry.
It’s surprising to recognize how long I’ve been so compromised, forced to compensate with notes, notes, notes, reminders, struggling, lately overwhelmed….
Noticing, though, is the first step to healing. Gotta appreciate what we can.
My life is exquisitely difficult to talk about. It’s woven with extreme themes – sexual abuse, mind control, aliens, mysticism – and with accomplishments that make me shy, and failures that embarrass me, and critical facts that embarrass other people.
And none of the themes, for simplification, can be hidden or glossed over, because each intertwines and sometimes explains the others.
I can’t begin at the beginning, because it is either boring, or if I tell certain details, it sounds too woo-woo.
Since I almost always get interrupted fairly early with the question, “Why you?” I think I’ll begin there.
It could be any number of things, but is probably all of them together. Plus the fact that I won “the lottery.”
(Remember that classic, creepy short story, “The Lottery”? We read it once in grade school and again in high school, about a community that killed one person every year by stoning, a person drawn by lottery.)
My lottery ticket to this crazy life may have been as simple as my birth date. I was born on a Full Moon, on a Monday (Moon Day), in the middle of Cancer, also known as Moon Child.
And it wasn’t just a Full Moon, somewhere inside that 24-hour window; no, I was born 8 minutes before the Full Moon, 8/(24×60) = 5/1,000ths of a degree of perfection. Moon energy was strong. (Astronomical charts, not astrological, show the coincidence.)
So were the numbers: I was born on July 7, 1952 − 5+2 adding up to 7. Three sevens. Then my mother gave me a name with 7 letters: Jean Ann.
My last name, at birth and now, is Eisenhower. My father was second cousin to Dwight, who was nominated to the Republic ticket for President of the United States later on the day of my birth. The next day, the local paper would give my birth a short column to remark on the coincidence.
Maybe all these coincidences explain my winning/losing lottery ticket. Or maybe mind control was already in the family.
[I’ll expand on these later: Eisenhowers = Iron hewers (secret society protecting metallurgy secrets for the king). Grandfather Hollywood veterinarian of Rin-Tin-Tin – Mason – money lender. Father Navy CASU 33 – unsolved mystery.
[Petersens – Mormons. Grandmother with her handler. Mother I saw switch alters, in trance. Unexplained terror re Mormons. Flashback of babyhood ritual.]
I seem to have won/lost the lottery and was treated to MK. Then, having developed a bad attitude toward our culture due to MK, I joined the counter-culture and offended my handlers – again and again, beginning with rejecting the invitation of another secret society, calling them “plastic,” accepting their invitation to “try them,” taking the vows, and then de-activating and breaking my vows. I assume my actions resulted in another layer of MK, as they warned us that breaking our vows would have severe consequences (which I didn’t believe, as it was contrary to “American values”).
In my 20s, I became an activist for peace, and later for social justice, and environmental sustainability. Along the way, I insulted the FBI with media releases exposing their most incriminating statements which I sent to 600 major media around the world, nearly every day of the 6-week “Judi Bari v FBI” federal trial – and the FBI was found guilty.
They stared me down in the hallways of the courthouse, damn scary dudes. They might have amped up my treatment then and following the trial, when I lived alone in the desert – things got extremely frightening after the trial, to the point I was ready to give up this life.
Perhaps they amped up my MK again when I published my book. And maybe they amped it up again each time I published a particularly hard-hitting blog or video. There seem to be correlations.
So now that I’ve given you an overview of my story, maybe answered the Why?, and I’ve gotten my paranoia out of the way – or demonstrated and acknowledged it at least – let me tell you my story….
In my next memoir, I’ll summarize my life through 2007 briefly, as it’s detailed in RattleSnake Fire: a memoir of extra-dimensional experience, and spend most of the book recounting the most recent eight years.
To help me wrap my brain around it all – my fractured, fragmented mind full of experiences is often difficult to remember as a whole – I created a database to record all my anomalous experiences, from sublime to terrifying, everything out of the normal. My list is nearly 700 items long, and the last half of them have occurred in the last 5 years. Things are accelerating.
[to be continued]
Feedback? How’s this to open an update to my story?
Disinformation is finally being better understood and acknowledged throughout the culture, but few people understand its full extent. And understanding and reading reality correctly is an important survival skill for all of us.
Therefore, I’d like to share what I’ve learned, as both third-party observer and victim. I’ll chose an older story rather than a new one, to lessen the chance the guilty will be recognized – which I assume will lessen the repercussions I will experience for telling.
Before I tell this 7-year old story, I first want to tell a little about the concept: I didn’t know the word disinformation until I was involved with Earth First!, and then I witnessed it a great deal, as our expert-witness scientist supporters from around the world were ignored by the Media, and our peaceful protests, humorous skits, and potluck dinners (at my home) were treated like national security threats in FBI reports (I have copies).
When Judi Bari, a non-violence activist and mother of two, was car-bombed in 1990, she was maligned in the world-wide Media as a would-be bomber. But subtler lies are also told for different effects.
I’d become a thorn in the FBI’s side when, in 2002, I wrote or helped write, almost every day for six weeks, media releases for the Judi Bari v FBI trial. When I returned home to my desert hermitage, I began to be plagued by frightening bouts of amnesia and immobilization, with physical wounds, including lacerations and puncture wounds to the inside of my vagina (also photographed) – to the point that I considered suicide frequently.
Feeling like a sitting duck in the desert, I sold my remote home on 20 acres and, because I didn’t think I could stand a big city anymore, found my way to Silver City, in great need of friends to surround me.
Unfortunately, frightening events continued to happen, including third-degree Taser burns and biopsy scoops that appeared on my hands and arms and back with no memory of how they happened – and weird events of disinformation that undermined my reputation and sense of community.
Over the nine years I’ve lived here, my wounds have also included scores of injection bruises, two donut bruises, dozens of other weird bruises, sexual mysteries, and even some healed scars, one of which a doctor assumed was from thyroid surgery. Most I’ve photographed, and many I’ve shown friends, though few want to hear about them – I gather because it’s just too upsetting to their world views.
I totally understand not wanting to hear. It took me a lot of years of having this actually happen to me before I could adjust my world view to get over the “freedom and justice for all” mythology and accept what was happening.
If you find this hard to believe, I do understand, and hope you can read on, because this is part of our reality – and properly reading reality is essential to our survival. Following is an account of disinformation against me, undermining my status in my new community.
In 2007, I was a week or so away from a trip to Peru, when someone recommended a woman to stay at my home and care for my cat. Actually, it was a couple, I was told, a man and a woman, about my age, who were hip and “into community,” and had some circumstances that had stranded them in Silver City, needing a place to stay; the husband was working, but hadn’t gotten a paycheck yet. I agreed to let them stay in my home, even though afterward I realized that I didn’t like the woman at all, and she had talked a solid streak for 90 minutes, essentially wearing me down, and making me feel sorry and embarrassed for her, as if to say No would force her to recognize she had been obnoxious, which would be hurtful to her, so I couldn’t say No. Not logical, but defininely my sort of neurotic, self-defeating kindness.
In Tucson, I was supposed to be at the airport at 6 am for an 8 am flight, but I woke at 4 with a severe toothache that made it very difficult to move with any more than a shuffle, so I canceled my flight with a medical excuse. I would have a root canal later that afternoon.
Mid-morning, when my plane was in the air, I began receiving bizarre emails from my house sitter who assumed I was on the plane to Peru. She told me my stove was leaking gas, the phone wasn’t working, two crews of repairmen had been in, and my cat was acting ill – all in her first day at the house, and the first day of my 20-day trip.
Even though I immediately suspected this was probably a form of harassing disinformation, it was shocking to think of how very distressing it would have been to be on a plane to a faraway place with this bombardment of distressing news.
Thankfully, I wasn’t gone, and I’d been around enough FBI lies and other tricks that I found it all suspicious. So I answered her emails without telling her I was still in Tucson.
Her stories continued to hammer on distressing probabilities and were amped up with direct accusations (13 specific, weird accusations against me! in emails still saved) that I was “paranoid” and similar negative assessments – even though I’d been extremely cautious not to say a single inflammatory word, but simply asked calm questions about my home. It was as though she’d intended I become paranoid.
I called a handy woman friend who visited the house and was told by the woman that the phone was repaired. Since I’d asked my friend to enter and check out the stove and look around, she asked to enter, but the woman refused. When my friend next called to tell me the phone was supposedly repaired, I was still unable to call home, and was told by the woman via email that the phone was “down again,” working only during the short period my friend had come to the door.
After drilling and filling my tooth, I hit the road immediately to Tucson, calling another friend along the way, who arrived at the house shortly after I did. The woman was shocked to find me at the door and was barely willing to let me into my own home. When my friend arrived, we confronted the woman with the crazy contents of her emails, as I wanted to be entirely fair and consider the possibility that perhaps she hadn’t send them, and they were instead sent by disinformation specialists; I reviewed all 13 accusations with her, and she confirmed she’d written them – even as she stammered to explain some of her more bizarre accusations.
We then had to demand she leave, as she was intent on staying in my home as I’d “promised” to let her, and she even had the gall to suggest I leave. When she continued refusing, we finally threatened to call the police to remove her and she finally accepted our demands. But as she left, and we realized to our astonishment that she didn’t have anything at the house other than her small purse – no overnight bags, no toothbrush, no food, no nothing, even though she’d supposedly stayed there the night before and her husband was due there shortly and she desperately wanted to stay there again that night. But the bed hadn’t even been slept in, and the kitchen was unused. We assumed she wanted us to leave so we wouldn’t discover this, and she was actually there for some other reason.
As we pondered this, my friend’s phone rang, she answered it and heard silence. After hanging up, she hit the call back button and was greeted with an office name with “Intelligence” in the title. My friend and I assumed the woman and her husband were functioning as low-level spies, watching the house so that others could come in (under the guise of repairmen?) to do whatever they do to activists and others on federal “watch” lists. Perhaps they’d used some high technology to identify and call her phone, perhaps to add a bit of warning to our overload of weird information and seeming threats.
The next day, I called the gas company and was told she had called and a repair person had come out, but no gas leak was found, and the stove never did have problems.
I used my cell phone to call the phone company because the home phone still did not work. When the repairman came out the next day, he worked for two hours and finally concluded, “This is the strangest problem I’ve ever seen in my 20 years of phone repair, and I can’t figure it out.” And he rewired most of the house.
My cat never showed any signs of illness.
A few days later, another phone repairman appeared at the front door. I called Qwest to confirm he was legit, and was told something vague I don’t remember, even as I realized the feds certainly have the ability to intercept my call, redirect it to their own office, and have someone pose as a phone company rep, telling me whatever I needed to hear. I let the guy in.
He checked the phone jacks, then went outside and climbed a ladder to the box attached near the roof line. I wondered if I’d detect him putting a bug on my line, so I stood beneath and watched. He talked and seemed to be wasting time, repeating motions, and getting impatient with me standing there looking up constantly. I smiled and asked him if he was finished. He looked confused and irritated. Laughter was close, but I had no desire to mock a fed. I also knew I couldn’t stop them if they wanted to put a bug on my line, and if he didn’t do it today, they’d do it another day soon, and it might be less fun next time. So I walked around the corner, gave him a minute, then came back to find him climbing down, looking relieved. Ever since, my old-style ringer phone makes a little noise a few seconds after every time I hang up, and around 10 pm every night, which I think of as shift-change, and maybe other times I haven’t yet noticed.
The woman and her husband, I later learned, went to live with a young, hip couple out in the Mimbres, whose friends overlapped with mine, but whom I only knew because the husband clerked at a store I frequent, a store central to my community. Immediately, the man quit being friendly with me and instead acted as though I were a terrible person he could barely be civil to. And in following years, a number of their acquaintances have continued to keep distant even though we have many friends and interests in common.
I assumed the woman had told the young couple poisonous things about me. But I didn’t know them well enough to try to discover what they’d been told, and my questions might be received as very weird. It was very weird, and I didn’t trust anyone to accept it at face value without having to reconsider a lot of assumptions and probably wonder also if I was just plain crazy, so I said nothing to anyone except the two friends who each witnessed part of the event.
Every so often, about once a year, people on the edges of my community suddenly act cold or confused around me, as if they’d heard something terrible and didn’t know whether they should even acknowledge me. I notice quite a few people all change at once and continue in the pattern for some weeks or months, until slowly the awkwardness fades a little, but doesn’t go entirely away. I just stay away from them, to lessen their discomfort and mine.
I sometimes review the experiences of friendly acquaintances turning away or looking fearful and try to convince myself the events are not significant, but they seem to display a consistent pattern. And then there’s the other parallel evidence: the woman at my house with no personal possessions, her emails full of lies and inflammatory accusations, and my phone line mysteriously wired. And mysterious Taser burns and similar wounds on my very own body keep me from dismissing my total experience as imagination – as some friends, family, and doctors would like me to.
I’d love to dismiss it as imagination and believe in a different America, but that’s not my experience. For 8 years now, I’ve been asking my online readers, and no one has come up with any explanation better than the one that’s supported by government documents: federal agents practice disinformation, harass, encourage divisiveness, and more, under the rubric of COINTELPRO (Counter Intelligence Program).
Recently I learned there’s a name for people like me: “targeted individuals” – abbreviated TI’s, with multiple websites documenting experiences of many others who describe things similar to mine.
Beware of lies. If you hear something bad about a person, check it with the person it’s about.
Only once in these nine years has a friend checked a rumor about me with me; it was a lie, and she’d believed it for six months (it sounded reasonable) and even passed it on to others herself during that time. I told her the truth as I understood it and asked her to pass it back onto the grapevine. I don’t know if she did or how well it traveled.
Disinformation is usually planted in such a way and with people removed from the target just enough that it’s very difficult (and no likely to be successful) for the TI to confront the perpetrator. Only the people in the middle – those told the lie – can do anything about it – by wising up, and checking. Thanks for doing that.
First published at GardenHealingChurch.org. (I keep thinking this is the last post on this site, but here’s one more.)
This petition, http://www.ipetitions.com/petition/synergy, and all the people commenting on it – inspired me to comment too, and I ended up writing a short essay that presents my story briefly, so I’ll share it here with a few photos added:
After doing media work for the historic “Judi Bari vs FBI” federal trial, in which the feds were found guilty of charges related to an assassination attempt on Judi Bari, my lifelong mind control torment has been seriously amped up.
I’ve woken with Taser burns, a burn on the back of my neck – both third-degree with skin burned off – scoop marks, injection bruises, “donut” bruises, lacerations and punctures in my vagina, healed scars including one my doctor thought was a thyroid surgery scar, total exhaustion, and occasionally dealings that seemed to be with aliens (which could be induced hallucinations or real).
After 13 years of freaking out and being suicidal about my mind control, I’m beginning to see that it’s not a simple horror – it’s actually everything and everywhere. And it may not be human. Everything in nature is under control of many things. Mind control begins with DNA and the elements like weather, then language and our calendar, then economics, laws, education, government, etc. And eventually science did to people what it’s done to the Earth – turned everything into a resource. We are human resources; they’ve been honest in calling us that! We’ve heard it and shrugged. Now we’re realizing it’s full implications, and it’s shocking. One more major trauma in the history of humanity. (Think back: much of history is trauma.)
Without hope in the other realms, we on Earth have been reduced to resources, regardless that we’ve been led along with lies about freedom, human rights, etc. If we only have this Earth life in which to hope, then we must toe Their line or be seriously punished.
[Can we tell them (since they’re spying and listening all the time), “Hey, I change my mind. I’ll quit whistle blowing [or whatever] and join you”? if we’re willing to sacrifice our beliefs for relief (as it seems others must be doing)? I don’t know. I’ve gone to that edge and wondered, but haven’t crossed it.]
Mostly, I believe I have Helpers in other realms who rescue or resuscitate me now and then, though I do have to suffer indignities and pain and loss of will to live and sheer energy to live – way more often than I sometimes think I have the spirit to sustain, but then my Helpers bring me back. (Or might it be the controllers, keeping me alive for another day? I don’t know. I think I’ll chose the more palatable option, my Helpers.)
It’s a weird life to live. Good thing I know we have other lifetimes, so I can feel less attached to this one. It helps to step into the role of Witness. We are witnesses of an incredible time in human history – from the deepest darkest inside, which few see and fully understand, but we do. There’s something important in our role, as witnesses regarding human evolution. It’s incredibly lonely because no one wants to hear, but it’s important. And one day, maybe on another realm, we’ll help others understand how this came about, so maybe we can help protect the future. Don’t know. Playing with ideas. Imagining from a higher height….
As far as this world right now, though, I’ve quit believing we can change anything through political action, like this petition – BUT, I know I could be wrong, so I hedge my bets and support causes like this one that encourage us – but I don’t see the possibility in America anymore. On the other hand, I KNOW we get help from Other Realms – rarely when we think it’s due, but enough.
And that’s another silver lining: having lost all hope in this Earth insanity, we are forced to cut our emotional connections to Earth life and look beyond. Atheists, I know, will hate this, but I do appreciate that this pain does send me into other realms where I believe it is important to connect, and I don’t otherwise, as least not as often as would probably be good for me, because Earth happenings and all the entertainment is way too entrancing. It’s almost like our mind control tortures us so badly that we are saved from the mainstream soul-deadening delusions of the masses, slowly boiling like frogs in a pot; whereas, we are the frogs that jumped out of our mesmerized complacency, thanks to the extra-high heat.
[I write and video blog about my life and struggles on Paradigm Salon.net, my other sites, and in my book, RattleSnake Fire, called “not only great literature, but an important historical document.”]
Blessings on us all. Peace, friends. Please don’t give up too easily. Remember this world is bigger and more complicated than we can know; and the bully in our life might be about to get whumped by someone bigger. We don’t know, but we shouldn’t discount it when the stakes are so high – our life.
Also, leaving this life (as many people entertain, including me) may not be an escape, if the other dimensions are extensions of this, as I believe they are. So it behooves us to develop our extra-dimensional minds, as the only way to see a bigger picture and have a chance.
At the moment, we are in trauma at the hands of the most Powerful people on Earth; therefore our only salvation is beyond this Earth, where we can’t go, or beyond this dimension, which we can. I conclude: it’s time to develop our extra-dimensional minds.
I hope this helps someone. Compassion for all.
Written in September 2014, forgotten, just discovered:
So, this is what it’s like to live on a planet with everyone overwhelmed and mind controlled. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.
~ Ineffective Governments
~ Corporate control of governments and economies
~ Economies very vulnerable
~ Poverty and malnutrition growing
~ Most water poisoned or sources destroyed
~ Land poisoned from pole to pole
~ Air polluted
~ Food genes modified to not reproduce
~ Weather apparently manipulated
~ The “free press” controlled by corporations
~ Families and cultures fragmented
~ Individuals isolated
~ Justice system racist and classist
~ Prisons corporatized and growing
~ Mind control extensive
~ Assassinations common and ignored
~ Terror constant around the globe
~ Slavery, including child and sexual slavery, growing and ignored
~ Wars and threats of war
~ Biological and technological weapons beyond our understanding
~ Local communities militarized
~ Warrantless searches and secret courts
~ Pervasive spying
~ Earthquakes and toxic water from fracking
~ Most Americans, and many children, on mood-altering drugs
~ Electronic gadgets offering custom-made entertainment instantly, constantly, and inexpensively.
So, why are we still talking to politicians?
Because we’re dependent on their system.
I am absolutely certain we cannot negotiate or fight our way out of this.
So I have two hopes for survival:
1) The two opposing, entwining forces on this planet will be in such disharmony that we will break apart into two different dimensions, each in our own vibration. Those who believe in slavery or are willing to be controlled by others will go one place, and those who appreciate the stability and endurance of diverse ecosystems, noted for mutuality, and cooperation – and who have made it part of their life to nurture those qualities – will go into another dimension.
Sorta like the Rapture. Or sorta like I once heard that Hopi mothers tell their children, “One day, the bad people will just be gone.” So many prophecies of endings and new beginnings….
Or maybe it’ll just end in some manner beyond our imagination.
Maybe we’re in the process of it now, as many suggest by way of encouragement. Maybe we’re in the grasping death throes of a dying culture, and we simply must be patient – and keep practicing cooperation.
2) Or maybe we’re learning something from this horror of watching an entire planet under threat (though we in the United States remain relatively well for now, relatively oblivious of the masses at war and dying).
What if we’re souls being taught to be responsible by having our actions reflected back on us collectively?
Since we keep animals in pens, “They” put some of us in pens. We feed animals our waste; They feed us crap. We treat animals like things; They treat us like things.
Could this be a house-of-mirrors dimension, and if we’d change our ways, our conditions would improve?
This theory has a certain elegance, but it’s rather constructed. On the other hand, there do seem to be dimensions of reality that are constructed, if you believe the shamans, which I do. Dimensions of inorganic beings, thought forms, memes, mathematics, fractals, etc. So, like Carlos Castaneda trapped in the world of the inorganic beings, our entire planet might be trapped by an idea (capitalism?) – an idea that, unfortunately, reflects back on us and hurts. It resonates with me sometimes as too true a possibility.
If that’s the case, then the tales of Jesus and other aliens returning to rescue, save, or rapture us seems hopeful. I resonate with Christ, so I pray he picks up my signal and has me in his plans. I’ve promoted cooperative living most of my life, so I’ll accept a rescue from my spirit family, if that turns out to be the reality.
3) Okay, one more: The worst, most evil-feeling thought I have cross my mind sometimes is that the System, evil as we think it is, is intrinsic to human evolution. It’s half the driving force of things, just like the yin-yang symbol. Just like a tree, half in light, half undergound, consuming dead things.
And just like the human body can’t have toe cells demanding a better gig, we gotta have people who fulfill their jobs exactly, and if it takes mind control, then so be it.
(I could almost talk myself into the necessity of this, except that the System is systematically destroying the planet and devastating souls.)
I can understand Life including Death, but I think we can evolve without the depths of depravity we have here.
On the other hand, if all this nastiness turns out to be actually necessary for our evolution, then I have to let go of my idea of the Creative Force as a thing of elegance, harmony, and love.
On the other hand again, there’s an awful lot on Earth that is explosive, crashing, rotten….and it’s natural and seems necessary. So maybe this is just life, and we’re supposed to accept it. Ugh. As I said, Worst theory.
4) Finally, I can accept that, since we are genetic experiments, we might just be too imperfect, too much trouble as Enlil thought (and Jehovah), and they’ve been threatening to wipe us off the planet for thousands of years. We’re Their herd, crop, failed genetic experiment, facing our end.
Now, they might keep a few good slaves or other useful specimens, in which case there’s nothing I want to do but convince them I’d be way too much trouble and they don’t want me. I believe our souls have other lives beyond this one, so I’ll emerge somewhere; doesn’t have to be here….
If I think of more reasons for hope, I’ll add them. What are yours?
Written long ago, and just discovered:
As someone who used to call herself an “Earth First!er,” I have a very difficult thing to say:
I no longer believe we’re supposed to necessarily remain on this planet, Earth.
Yeah, this is shocking to me too.
But consider this:
~ All the planet’s water is poisoned and major sources destroyed
~ The land is poisoned from pole to pole
~ The air is polluted by multiple sources, including chemtrails
~ Food genes have been modified to not reproduce
~ Weather is apparently manipulated
~ Fracking is causing earthquakes and toxic water in wells and springs
And that’s just what’s been done to the planet. We humans also face:
~ Multiple concurrent wars
~ Biological and technological weapons beyond our understanding
~ Warrantless searches and secret courts
~ Pervasive spying on everyone
~ Ineffective governments, rigged elections, and rigged voting booths
~ Corporations controlling governments and economies
~ Economies unjust and vulnerable beyond anyone’s imagination
~ Poverty and malnutrition growing everywhere, including in the US
~ The “free press” controlled by corportions
~ Families and cultures fragmented
~ Individuals isolated
~ Justice system racist and arbitrary
~ Prisons corporatized and growing
~ Mind control happening on multiple levels
~ Assassinations common and not investigated
~ Slavery, including sexual and child slavery, growing
~ Local communities militarized
~ Major figures guilty of child sex slavery not investigated
~ Most Americans, and many children, on mood/mind-altering drugs
~ And: Lots of electronic gadgets offering custom-made entertainment instantly, constantly, and inexpensively.
And everyone continues to act like things are normal!
And good-hearted people (like me) continue to try to work for good causes like protecting our local water source from destruction, but we waste our time asking politicians to act in the public good.
That’s insane. And then we do nothing more, as if we’ve “acted.” Arghhhh! to political action.
Psychopathology is the word most commonly used today to describe the people pulling all the strings on the planet today, but I’m not sure. It could be psychopathology, but I think there could be another reason.
The gods may have decided (again) it is time to clear the planet of humankind So, just as a gardener clears a flower bed, or a cook super-cleans a cutting board, a lot of life is getting disrupted, but the web of life will re-heal.
We think those destroying the planet are psychopaths, but maybe they are no more than we are to the microbes in our soil.
I get glimpses now and then that some vibrational current will soon separate from the ugly energies on the planet, and we’ll relax and live out in another dimension, Heaven on Earth.
But this “dimensional shift” theory may only be the only way I can imagine staying on this planet. As Earth seems to be becoming unfit for life – fulfilling ancient prophecies from across the globe.
Bummer. I hate to confirm such devastating ideas, and the ring of religion only makes it worse. But at least I don’t keep talking to psychopathic politicians, trying to convince them to have a heart.
Still, I’ll hold out hope that I’m wrong, and the Life-giving will soon overpower the Death-dealing.
Wrote last June, just re-discovered:
I had a vision this evening of a cockroach burrowing into moist earth, working to turn dead things into more easily digestible other things to feed the roots of plants.
I “hate” roaches, but I saw tonight how essential they are to Life. They’re the clean-up guys.
I wondered, “Why are you showing this to me?” and the answer came:
Because you humans are in the process of being cleaned up.
What? Did I invent that last part?
What do you think? Are humans in the process of being cleansed from this Earth? Too many of us are too violent, reckless with the planet, and reckless with each other. So, just like the Sumerian god Enlil and, later, the Hebrew god Jehovah both threatened, are our days numbered? Will most of us be composted, like kitchen scraps, for roaches?
After those few survivors made it through the flood, so the stories go, neither Enlil nor Jehovah were too enthusiastic about giving humans another chance. They agreed, but made it clear, especially in the Christian “Book of Revelation,” that we’re on probation. Jehovah was going to see how we did for 1,000 years, and maybe he’d extend it another 1,000, but no more. And here we are.
And now Dad’s not happy with our behavior. And he promised to destroy us.
As should be, as any gardener knows. Some crops you don’t want to save the seed from. Some seed you burn, like Yeshua said.
Am I inventing this? Please tell me I am.
Kissinger, I hear, called 95% of us useless eaters; and many forecast a 95% die-off on Earth soon. And it sure seems they’re planning – no, executing right now – plans to assure the greatest certainty that most of us will die, with our food seeds infected with terminal genes, honeybees going instinct, and our water sources poisoned or polluted and recently mixed with oil from fracking operations all across our nation. They’ve compromised all the most important aspects of our survival.
Reminds me of the tens of thousands of Sumerian clay tablets of history, in which the god Enlil intended to kill humans with a flood and did kill most, a story told all over the Earth, including in the Hebrew account. Human remnants survived and promised to please their Creator, but I have a suspicion we have not.
Now, the threats of the gods always embarrassed me, especially as delivered by preachers – but destroying our culture seems like a very appropriate thing to do, given that we’ve destroyed the environment and torment each other so. It might be what I’d do if I were head gardener of Earth.
But I don’t understand how the people who are the worst offenders are doing the job that I imagine God would do. Why are they playing the role of the Gardner’s plow?
I trust in the idea of many lifetimes, and assume this destruction is simply of human genetics, and the soul essence continues on the learning path.
So, this vision isn’t so bad after all. We’re just about to lose our physical bodies. And that might be the best thing for our souls right now. A lot of us are hurting in this terrible place. Greed, in the form of capitalism, has twisted our minds, and it’s time for us to retreat from this dimension and think about the nature of money and keeping track of each other like that rather than just taking care of each other.
We’ve wasted far more of our life energy competing with others and keeping track of it all (banking, accounting, investing, bookkeeping, printing money and checks and ledgers, insurance, cash registers, grant writing, advertising, etc.) than we feared we might lose if we simply gave to others.
Money competition might have been an interesting test, but I think we’ve all seen that it has been disastrous, and I trust we’ll devise a whole new approach to “economy” in our next lives. I look forward to that.
My pathway through this human period of history has been especially turbulent, and I’ve seen the darkest underbelly of capitalism – in which children are sold for perverse entertainment.
Money-ism is weird when you think about it: money (easily manipulable) acts as the “blind” guideline for all our social interactions. Which is horrifying when pedophiles steal children, abuse them, put them on show, and often murder them, because there is someone willing and able to pay a network of police, judges, and other criminals a great deal of money.
Someone should have foreseen that coming.
But no one did, and now we have the world we’re living in, and it’s not something the head gardener wants to keep dealing with. Season’s over. And very little seed, so the prophesies say, will be saved.
If that’s true, perhaps it’s good. Because we don’t want this sort of life spreading through the universe.
Lonely, obedient, good girl, good student, shy, dancer, math and puzzle genius, occasional amnestic, community theater performer, raped, reluctant sorority girl, reluctant beauty queen, college run-away hitchhiker, Jesus hippie, minister’s wife, battered, mother, divorced, children conned away by ex, atheist, woken out of a trance, children returned, degreed in broadcast journalism, UPI award-winning radio reporter, remarried, business owner, PR consultant to social service and activist organizations, board member and president, Permaculture certified, radical activist, pantheist, arrested twice, jailed twice, Tasered twice, news feature “Supermom,” winner of more awards and recognitions, divorced again, child with cancer, offered ownership of $3-4 million birdwatching world-tour business, flashbacks of childhood sexual abuse, nervous breakdown, business offer passed, unable to work, praying again, son healed, aware of dissociative parts, confidant of healing, master of non-fiction creative writing, desert hermit, builder of small passive solar strawbale home, experiencer of many things shamanic, including Jesus, memoirist, in love with old high school crush, moved to new city, engaged, a real estate agent, disengaged, award-winning agent, offered six-figure management position (declined), hermit again, UFO experiencer, shamanic initiate, media consultant to successful “Judi Bari v FBI” car-bomb trial, psychically attacked, suddenly aware of life-long mind control subjection, relieved that life makes sense, terrified, near-suicidal, partnered with teepee-dwelling artist, budding artist in pencil and fiber, repeatedly terrified, mysteriously vaginally cut, heart attack, spiritually healed and encouraged, environmental activist again, solar oven educator, passive solar designer, single again, driven from hermitage by poverty, moved to small town, student of consciousness, Transpersonal Hypnotherapist™, author, mind control activist, mysteriously Tasered, mysteriously bruised, healing dissociative splits, encouraged, despairing, home renovator in natural plaster sculpture, passive solar advocate, Permaculture designer, identified with Persephone, enjoying the spring, identified with Black Elk, committed to service… old woman.
This idea has been coming on for a long time.
There’s no reason to write anymore here.
I’ve been withholding a lot in the last year or so anyway, feeling there are things I know that I’m just not willing to commit to print, and so I point out details or tell my experiences, and leave readers to connect the pieces. But I’ve been withholding more and more recently.
Besides withholding, I spend so many hours trying to communicate intense, multi-dimensional realities in the language of this 3D world, yet have no idea whether my readers are real and I’m helping them, or if I’m writing for mostly agents – or if my words are published as I actually write them. I’ve seen too many weird things happen on my computer to really want to invest too much more here.
Finally, maybe most important, writing keeps me locked in the past when I could be looking forward and grounding into my present with more attention.
So I’m saying good-bye on this site to spend more time in my garden and art studio, with friends, grounded in my actual world, and better connected to my Helpers.
I’m very tired of this virtual world.
And I recommend my readers also look for what they need inside themselves, in Nature, within their community, and from their Helpers.
I’ll leave this site up for the information it contains, but don’t expect any new blogs here.
If you want to know what I’m doing beyond this, I’ll probably continue to blog every week or so on my other sites – Home & Garden Inspiration, Garden Healing Church, and Jean Eisenhower.com, and the other sites near the bottom of the right column.
A bit more on Why:
No one who doesn’t already understand wants to hear this stuff. They claim their right to not listen because it’s too scary, and their own lives are already filled with more drama than they can handle, or if it’s not, they want to keep it that way, and it’s their right. It’s only natural. It’s survival.
Therefore, this task is futile, and I should find better things to do.
We might think we need others to hear and understand. But after that, there’s really not a lot anyone can do but sympathize. And that gets old and, in a sense, by putting the information in another person’s head, locks us into that picture in another person’s mind. So we communicators get nothing useful, and they get bummed out.
The only enlivening thing, after we’ve learned to develop better skills of perceiving and responding where we’ve been blinded, is to keep on with the cosmic dance of creating as much beauty and goodness as we can in our moment of life here.
I’m on to other things.