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.
Hi All,
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:
0:00:00. Intro
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
0:56:00 Break
1:01:15 Intro
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:
00:00 Intro
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
56:00 break
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 ~
Jean
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)
– implants
– 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.”
#
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.
Peace.
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.
focus on the fungal fruiting body with dark tip
focus on the suspected small tangle of fibers
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.
This is the one of the 3 worst spots with a quantity of mystery fibers.
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.
Spirochete related to syphilis. It’s striped, partially transparent, with knobs and bends, and it moves, but medical professionals glance quickly and say it’s just a hair.
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 ~
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
Fine hairs, a tiny fraction of the width of normal hair, and often curling, are found on my scalp and other parts of my body.
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.
Odd, blunt-headed hair-like structures all over my body often seemed to move as though perceiving.
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.
These well-spaced holes cover 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.
This is the one of the 3 worst spots with a quantity of mystery fibers.
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.
“my skin was beginning to bleed and the stuff was still in patches here and there”
Looking online for organisms that match my organisms, I have been rather worried to not find them, as that leads me to consider the conspiracy theories about designer organisms being planted in targeted individuals. Maybe that’s an additional reason why no doctors want to treat me?
green fiber
orange fiber
Blood-colored shapes under the skin
Three punctures inside my cheek, along with a crystalline hair!
And many, many more fibers, including many that appear crystalline.
So I returned, 24 hours later, shaken but confident that a different doctor would see what I saw and not dismiss the clear compelling description I had of the white sticky substance that couldn’t be removed – that was still there for them to take a sample of – and the Q-tips for testing.Hi Friends,
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:
dots on soles of feet, plus odd fibers
star patterns of skin on torso, with odd fibers and blood under the skin
and curious fibers all over my body, many of which waved around on their own, like little heads looking this way and that.
fiber under the skin, similar to fibers emerged
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.
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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.
Inside my ear canal (never approved by me)
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?
Hi Everyone,
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.
Other ideas?
Anyone know a doctor or attorney who wants to weigh in on this?
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….
Hi Friends,
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….
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.”
UFO sighting
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.
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
beam bruise
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
energy healing
“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
injection bruise
other weird bruises x 4
pouring nosebleed
inch-deep puncture up beside clitoris
spine mysetriously hurt
new herpes
Taser burn/sick
tones in ears
night’s struggle
beam follows me around house
next morning: ears ringing badly, never quit
“walk-in” offer
house entered, things moved, hot water in tap on New Years, footsteps in snow
MK’d sex
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”
spiritual attachments
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:
spontaneous healing
downloads
Persephone helps
blue-green energy healing alters
person inside me helping
cellular changes
another healing x 2
healed teens
nighttime healings x ?
seeing energy, controlling it
yogi comes in
felt g-spot heal
understanding, writing about the cruel teacher
——————————————
2011-2012 Challenges:
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
another Taser
weird neck problems x 3
Wake to find friend whispering/instructing me x 2
night terror
realize MK as child on vacations, collapse to floor
computer weirdness
cuts
terrible ear-ringing
iridescent golden mucous glob from sinus
headache
felt severely drugged
more herpes
weird answering machine message
phone interruption: “record again”
happy drug? too much energy
acquaintance weirdness
male friend confirms Archons
spiritual attack
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
nightmare/porch/screaming
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
alters integrating?
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
removed shadow
——————————————
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
scoop mark
sore
cuts/punctures
grief
depression
anxiety, unable to center self
nausea
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
energy healing
———————————————-
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)
———————————————
2014-2015 Challenges:
“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
left shoulder
hands asleep
“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
speedy/drugged?
stomach ache
time confusion
alters switch
visions amazing, then forgotten
saw red UFO, hard sleep
computer weirdness
eBay sabotage
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
brain buzzing
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
injection bruise
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
heart attack
vibration in head
ligament mysteriously inflamed in left pelvis
headache, mind scrambled
missing time
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
computer weird
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
Sarasvati real
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.
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.
My g-spot (descending bulge) was sliced from back to front and twice more (not visible here) from side to side.
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.
A while back, I wrote about the right to decide it’s a “good day to die” – because I wanted to die.
My reasons I thought were compelling (and, I thought, in line with a newish New Mexico law): As a mind control subject, I am not only dissociative, but have suffered from regular, unexplainable, random events that happened usually while I slept and left me scared, scarred (literally), and often debilitated for days or weeks at a time – and were happening way too frequently (twice a week) to believe I could still make a living, socialize and contribute to my community, and be happy when I didn’t know 
when the next “hit” would come.
It really seemed as though I were victim to the same mysterious forces depicted by numerous artists like this one – typically a woman, unconscious in her bed, with a demon on her chest. Prayers didn’t seem to help.
Nevertheless, I knew I’d been through difficult times before and would later feel happy and confident again, and I was willing to believe it was possible I could be at least content again – though it seemed unlikely, I was willing to believe it was possible – so I determined to “get my affairs in order,” in the event I continued to feel this way, but not act too hastily, and be open to the possibility of seeing things anew.
Now, weeks later, my affairs (will and medical directives) are in order, and I’m still in a place of openness and tentative hope. I’ve had a few more profound experiences that feel “healing” in a sense, and I know that more is possible.
Therefore, I found it interesting when this video came across my desk this morning, about others choosing this option:
http://www.nytimes.com/video/us/100000003586181/a-right-to-die.html
It reminded me that I should update you all, who might have worried about me – and thank those of you who’ve written me over the past weeks to ask about how I’m doing and offer your concern. I’m making no immediate decision, but have found help and counseling for various issues: my heart, which is getting better with supplements of CoQ10, DHEA, magnesium, and more; my TMJ, which has become very problematic and sometimes painful – if my insurance company will cover it; and even my thumbs which were damaged in an old skiing accident and now my right has become a trigger-thumb making it difficult to knit or even write my name – though typing is fine. The controllers seem to have given me a bit of a break, I assume because they want me alive, not because they have any compassion. Oh yes, and I’m talking with a counselor, exploring other ways in which I might frame my situation and doing “somatic trauma therapy” – which impressed me yesterday with a quick exercise that released a heart and neck pain immediately!
I still feel tired a lot, but I’m moving forward as though I might continue to contribute to our world:
I am still a distributor for Sun Ovens, and will demonstrate them at our local, upcoming Earth Day (and sell them at the lowest-possible price to anyone – ;} – anywhere in the continental US – anytime, on my other website),
I’ve become a member again of our Southwest New Mexico Fiber Arts Alliance, with my artwork at The Common Thread retail gallery, and two other stores downtown,
I planted flowers in the garden a couple of weeks ago,
And I plan to go into debt to finish the natural plastic sculpture I began in my house over five years ago. (The unfinished tree sculpture is central in my living room/library/craft room/office here.)
So, life goes on. It feels better conjuring hope than not. Even if we have to pretend we have power to craft our life story, that pretense has power, sometimes very little, but enough to get me moving, enough to get me in the garden or at the art table, and it feels important to try to continue to make meaning.
Nutritional food is critical too. And sunlight. And exercise. I’ve had to force all these on myself to generate a new will to live. Simple things, but critical. Any readers suffering like me, please remember these simple things. And do what you can do. We might find meaning after all – again. And it would be sad to leave too soon to discover that.
PS: It’s important, also, I believe, to acknowledge the good in hitting the bottom: With nothing left to lose, I began speaking truth to myself and to my partner. Those truths were very hard to tell, but they’ve had very good results. And who knows, but they might be the very most important thing that has happened.
So I’m respecting even these very hardest of times as critical to my life.
Blessings on you all, dear Readers ~
Impressed by the incredible actor Laura Prepon, of Orange is the New Black, I looked her up on Wikipedia and read:
In 2005, Prepon starred in the film Karla, the true story of Paul Bernardo and his wife Karla Homolka, a couple who kidnapped, sexually abused and murdered three young girls – marking a contrast to her usual lighthearted roles.[7]
Not my type of movie.
I’ve been in such deep darkness lately, that it seemed bizarre to watch this movie now, but, if I might state the obvious, I thought the description of the psychopathic couple could have a lot in common with the mind control network that controls me. It seemed it might be therapeutic. And, numb from all my own darkness, I could take it today.
And because I feel like I’ve hit rock bottom this past week, in which I’ve remembered and dwelt on a whole lot of stuff and the larger pattern, I thought the content of this movie wouldn’t be as shocking, and I’d be able to watch it with some dispassion. I thought I’d somehow benefit, and maybe even something revealing and healing could be triggered.
Here are my notes made during the movie:
– Many of my partners have signs of having been mind controlled too and of controlling me in a wide variety of ways.
– “She doesn’t even have to know.” Drugs and electroshock.
– I realize I’ve also been set up for sexual videos many times. Some of these I was too afraid to write about, even in my own journal, even many years after the fact. I remember wanting to write about an event a couple of times, but when I tried, my hand froze, so I said “Okay,” and never wrote about them anywhere. I
– The “knock-out drug.” Maybe that’s why I’m so hyper-sensitive to all sedatives.
– And if I wake up too soon, they just zap me afterward. Which explains my random heart problems, Taser burns, etc.
– Karla’s character traits: severe obedience, fear of abandonment, mistaking need for love, ability to precisely follow orders.
I relate to this totally, feeling painfully the work it has been in past decades to break free of even parts of it to create new patterns in more of my psyche. (Though I know I’m still being controlled – or have been recently – by someone commanding buried alters I’ve not yet been able to heal).
– Karla was a psychopath, who felt no remorse for others’ pain. I’m glad to know I hurt for others all over the planet, and still feel bad about a time when I was a Senior in high school (and never again, it felt so bad) “trying on” the behavior of a bossy former leader whose place I was taking, and I hurt a girl’s feelings, I thought – and I apologized to her a couple/few decades later! (She didn’t remember the event.)
I don’t believe I have any psychopathology, but I’m pretty sure I have a trained killer alter, whom I’ve only experienced once in my life, and that was when someone tried to break into my partner’s and my apartment, and I was ready to kill the man — quickly and efficiently.
After a moment of confusion, being awakened in the night, I snapped into a totally-unrecognized, but efficient and graceful series of behaviors, bouncing on my toes with a butcher knife in my hand, having commanded my partner to call 911. In my head was a recitation of the route my knife would take under his ribcage and up, the weight of the knife now becoming familiar as I bounced it in my fingers, the thought-feeling of the knife cutting its way through layers of skin, fat, and muscle – all running through my head with an absolute certainty that this would go perfectly. But the door held, and the police arrived and took him away.
They only took my report after arguing with me for quite a while about the non-necessity of arresting “a young man on a Saturday night with a little too much alcohol or drugs,” then the report didn’t exist the next morning, and no record of it was in any log, or so they told me. They were either protecting the drugged-up son of some powerful person, or they were testing my training. I wonder. But I do feel that I did have the complete knowledge in one hologram of my being for what I planned to do.
(When I wrote my book, RattleSnake Fire, I didn’t think this had anything to do with the rest of my book, or I would have included the story at the start of Chapter 16.)
So, I guess they programmed some part of me to kill, and when my life felt threatened, I was ready – and more than willing – to kill someone who “clearly,” I thought then, deserved it. No second thoughts, just total focus: bouncing on the toes, watching, hefting the knife, feeling the path, ready…. Good thing the police saved him.
Their videos of their murders …. chilling.
I think there are probably many videos of me; I’ve had lots of events over the years where the possibility something was a set-up for this was definitely in my mind, and my gut felt horrible about its real possibility, but my mind kept telling me, “No, just go along, don’t be paranoid….”
I feel so weak now, I can hardly lift my hands… but now refocused…. I think I should not be weak. I should face this stuff.
I want to cry.
I remember, “A seed must break apart before it can bear fruit.”
I’m breaking….feeling totally destroyed….
~~~~
– Need to post the art showing demons on unconscious women, a small collection I’ve come across.
This institutional rape of women is not unique to our culture, but ancient.
Here:
– Rapes, psychotic personalities… curiously familiar feelings as I watch them,
slowly making connections in my conscious mind….
And I realize how powerfully I’ve been programmed to not be able
to distinguish psychotic lies from the truth
– in my younger years; I’m better now.
No wonder I’ve had such a series of “handlers,” rarely lovers.
(Mind control subjects need their handlers.)
– Her fear of being hated and abandoned was extreme to the point of numb terror,
very child-like and unthinking.
I’ve never been as bad as Karla, but I’ve had severe tendencies, and still do, I think.
– Karla mistakes her neediness for “love” because she was programmed that way. I was too, though now, thankfully, I recognize the difference. But that’s only one part of the control in their big bag of tricks.
– She’s seriously obsessed, more than I’ve ever been,
but I can see so clearly the patterns of how seriously we’ve both been MK’d.
Karla went psycho though. I became “multiple” (a better thing), cordoning off the ugliest stuff, leaving the rest of me, but only part of me, somewhat “normal.”
Splitting off, as a “multiple personality,” has made living a somewhat “normal” life, even a successful life in some modest ways, and often happy life possible. And I’m grateful.
But I have to keep aiming for fuller consciousness; it seems the only responsible thing to do. So I keep trying to remember and heal.
– I think my implants (typically thought of as “alien” or sometimes government), might also be associated with this. And one of their purposes, besides GPS and other sorts of control and harassment, is to identify me as to ownership – like a ranch animal.
– Flashing back on Prepon’s character in Orange is the New Black, Alex Vausse – cold, hard, “seen it all,” willing to take pleasures where she can, willing to lie and seriously hurt her best friend and lover.
I might have alters who lie, but I don’t lie in my conscious life, except a few memorable times when it might have literally saved my life.
(Though some would say we all lie, all the time. Great TedTalks video on lying here.)
The difference between psychopathic and multiple: I have alters with behaviors for sex and killing locked away neatly (though they could be triggered on command, making the main part of me amnesic), whereas Karla has integrated the soul-deadened killer and liar into the whole of her.
I don’t think my killer alter can be triggered accidentally again, now that I’ve recognized her. But she gives me some confidence, knowing she’s there and capable if ever needed.
Mind controllers, though, can trigger that alter, which is why I tell everyone about this, and why I’m trying to heal – or hoping to die if things don’t get better.
(I don’t want the responsibility of choosing, in this conscious state, to ever kill someone, or myself. Too much appreciation for Life and the Mystery to destroy any of it – even though I talked about dying in January. I still believe I have the right, and conditions could change, but I’m not aiming there now.)
– I think there have always been psychopaths on the planet, but they’re increasing to record numbers and power now, it seems – at least I feel their heavy presence in my life.
Pulling back from despair….
– If I have any purpose in life, it’s to document my experience, which documents the worst of humanity at the end of the era. Feels important. So I record….
– I think this entire Earth is the subject of a turf war between warring global or cosmic gangster factions, the highest class (Illuminati?) to the lowest, and who knows how many factions and sub-factions there might be. It’s probably as complicated as global politics. Actually, it’s a big part of global and national politics. And maybe cosmic politics. Taking slaves of various sorts.
– Different aspects of this System have been called mind control, ritual abuse, gang stalking, demonic, Satanic, sex slavery, CIA mind control, psychopathic, dark magick, human trafficking, Freemasonry, Mormonism, The Greek System, the Senate page scandal….and lots more. (I might have wrongly included a few of the above, but maybe not.)
– Karla was clearly trained to endure violence in numbness.
– Her husband is also a psychopath, but has features of a “multiple personality” as I understand it — even though the movie never makes a point of that, and he does no dramatic switching of alters. He’s charming in his social self, but he eventually is taken over by the desire to act out horrific sexual abuse on women, which he uses his adult intelligence to carry out, but when frustrated in any way, he reverts to behaviors that are what a six year old might do: scream, abuse, and yell incessant profanity – and rarely cry – all while otherwise appearing and conversing as an (immature) adult. And it’s clear to me that he was sexually brutalized around the age of six, much like many of us. Some go psycho. Some split. I’m so glad I split.
– Subconsciously, they recognize each other as “also abused,” and that’s their attraction: they are familiar to each other.
Great movie. (Here: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0424938/business?ref_=tt_dt_bus.)
Plan to be seriously disturbed. (Maybe don’t watch it, or wait till the right time.)
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t’s top-notch acting, directing, everything.
And a true story.
I grieve for the world….
May it be over soon.
In 2002, it seems the feds did a number on my credibility.
That May and part of June, I did media work for the historic federal trial, “Judi Bari vs the FBI” – where I experienced weird, nighttime altered states of consciousness (which seemed electronic in nature), then came home to read for the first time websites on mind control, which terrified me – and also let me understand my life – a simultaneous, contradictory relief, which barely counter-balanced my urge to quickly find a way to die.
Between bouts of serious disability, I pulled myself together enough to produce this radio show titled, “Spooks” – which aired on our community radio station on Halloween night, 2002.
(For the innocent – spooks is a term commonly used for government spies.)
I interspersed sections of my narration with related clips of Bob Dylan’s “Subterranean Blues.”
The story was meant to address the paranoia in our local Earth First! community that year over spies and infiltration, but do it in an inspiring way. So, I self-deprecatingly presented my story of having recently been “bad jacketed” – an FBI tactic, to cast suspicion on certain people, to discredit them.
So I produced this piece while reeling from four major shocks: first, daily close proximity for six weeks to FBI liars who protected a would-be assassin, arrested the wounded activists, harassed scores of activists with their “investigation,” and put our friends at further risk with false accusations to the media; second, experiences of what I assumed were electronic harassment at night; third, realizing I’d been a mind control subject since childhood and was still almost certainly being monitored; and fourth, having my sincere attempts to calm the group anxiety with simple education turned into my being personally attacked as a probable spy!
I was shocked, dumbfounded, and deeply, deeply hurt.
But, ironically, I probably was a spy! I just didn’t know it then. It would dawn on me slowly that, as a mind control subject, I most assuredly had been some sort of threat to them, albeit unconscious, but this hadn’t quite sunk into my mind during those first terrifying months of realizing I’d been a mind control subject since childhood.
So my local Earth First! was probably right to eject me, but the reason was wrong, and the manner was horrifying to experience.
[My voice sounds very young on this recording, even though I was 50 at the time. (That’s multiple-ness for ya.) Maybe my younthful-sounding voice is also part of my attempt to assure listeners that a reasonable, even cheerful person could be an Earth First!er – even though the national media had usually presented us as the opposite.]
Now that I’ve listened to this feature (not an extemporaneous yack, but a carefully crafted, radio feature) for the umpteenth time in the last 12 years, and I’m proud of it.
It’s an important story – and world news not covered by the US major media. (So you’re forgiven if you’ve never heard of this story which everyone should know.)
So Enjoy…
Wait! I almost forgot:
How this production was used to discredit me: For the first 16 minutes, I tell the story with music, then I present my solution to fear (which I sorely needed, to deal with my special load): I borrowed a few lines from Leslie Marmon Silko’s book, Ceremony, which quotes Thought Woman:
Stories…aren’t just entertainment. Don’t be fooled.
They are all we have, you see – all we have to fight off illness and death.
You don’t have anything if you don’t have the stories.
Their evil is mighty. But it can’t stand up to our stories.
So they try to destroy the stories. Let the stories be confused. Or forgotten. …
There is life here for the people – and in the belly of this story.
Very content with my production, I sat in my desert hermitage on Halloween night beside the fireplace, listening to the show being aired. Suddenly the host cut short my production – just before I introduced my uplifting solution, leaving a long litany of scary shit the feds had done just hanging, resonating fear, fear, fear, with no solution, and said, “Thank you, Jean Eisenhower, for this radio show on fear.
My work had been turned up-side-down! My lovingly-created, artistic effort to offer something spiritually uplifting to my community was chopped in the worst place possible, making me sound, instead, like a fear monger – the #1-hated boogeyman among EF!ers that year.
The host later agreed to air the piece in its entirety, but instead he did a bad fake of a cassette tape sticking and dragging (then described it as being “eaten,” a different sound), apologized to the audience, and threw my tape in the trash – or so he said, apparently hoping I hadn’t made a copy.
I had, and then he changed his mind and refused.
The next week, I got his co-host (having a tiff with him also) to air my entire show on her (recently split-off) first half of their show.
This is the sort of “mild harassment” that’s been done to labor, civil rights, and other social justice activists for decades – along with random murder attempts.
One FBI agent, Wesley Swearingen, wrote an excellent memoir late in his life, describing his misdeeds before he died: FBI Secrets: An Agent’s Expose’.
We in Earth First! experienced many sorts of dirty tricks similar to his accounts. And this treatment of me was classic.
Here’s my story.
(I used a hand-held cassette player to record my voice, then copied it, section by section, interspersing snippets from “Subterranean Blues” off an old vinyl record. Edits sound like they were made on equipment with funky, imprecise functions – which was the case! Many thanks to Leo Mellon for his tech and other support for this project.)
Hi Everyone ~
I just re-watched these videos made last year and think it’s time now for more people to see them. I hope you’ll watch at least the first two videos:
http://paradigmsalon.net/videos/
Friends in town, I hope and pray, will stop by.
Thanks for all you do in these important times.
Jean
PS And if you didn’t read my last post yet, it’s here: “Our Right to Say, ‘It’s a good day to die.”’
– impression that all has been fine, but….
– journals report incredible list of weirdness – almost forgotten!
– accomplishments of 2014 impressive, despite experiences
Well, the life of a mind controlled multiple personality is not boring! For one thing, all my alters want expression, and that keeps me busy. And the multiple-ness keeps me “forgetting” the disturbing things, at least in my day-to-day consciousness, which keeps me functional; when I read disturbing things I’ve written and remember them, I become less functional – like today.
Hmmm…. Memory or function? Which do we want?
October is not that long ago, but I’m blown away by how many weird things happened in the last few months that I simply forgot!
But first, let’s do something different: I’ll lead with the good stuff instead of the bad. Here are some of the highlights of our year, which I find quite impressive every time I read it!
It’s a long list, so just skim if you want, using my asterisks to read the most important (then I’ll list the weird stuff):
Performances
* I performed a dozen times with Greg this year (his collection of folk-rock covers and original Americana – with themes of love, friendship, and home), sometimes out of town, or at our Farmers Market, and at a favorite coffee house, where a few times we presented music by Dylan, Browne, and Young with themes of apocalypse and strange, extra-dimensional events – tied together with my commentary. Much fun!
We attracted two new musical friendships and call our foursome the Southern Rocky Mountain Band. We played a single song (Greg’s original) at the historic Pinos Altos Opera House (a fundraiser for the Wild Gila: Forever Free CD/DVD release party), and we hope to begin playing out and recording more next year.
* In June, I “quit everything” (the most important thing I did all year) – home and garden design, singing, and more – and determined to do nothing but heal my mind and write about it. (More, below, under Health.)
I accepted my Social Security. When asked why I didn’t wait til I was older and would receive more, I said, “All the world’s financiers are making short term decisions. I’m making short-term decisions.” (I didn’t tell the other truth: because I’m damn tired of trying to hold my life together while also working.)
* During six weeks of never singing with Greg or the band, I healed some significant energy blocks, freed my voice significantly, and picked up singing again, then took some voice lessons and made more improvements.
We recorded our original “Lying Here with You” on video, and received great feedback.
Radio Show
In January, I helped Greg launch Silver City Acoustic, showcasing local and touring musicians on our local community radio station. I ran the board and eventually participated in the interviews. We aired the live, 2-hour show for 20-some weeks, interviewing 40-some local and touring musicians and bands. (When the station went off the air for an extended time, we lost momentum.)
I quit my weekly Back to the Garden radio show after 40 weeks – seeing that I’d taken on too much again, and this was not my forte anyway. I like to think I inspired others to say, “I can do that!” Or “I can do better than that!” so they’ll volunteer to fill those airwaves in my place. (It was fun, but I had too much on my plate.)
Home and Garden
We emptied our storage room, sold the last “big stuff,” and cleared a lot of stuck energy. Then we renovated the little 11×20 building into a functional and cheery guest house and studio retreat.
We built a cedar fence around the last of the yard (in front of our next guest house), sporting a curved corner which has garnered very nice compliments, and crafted two beautiful handles for our two front gates.
We turned the also-cluttered sun room into a beautiful sitting space on one side and a functional tool storage on the other.
My Writing and the Cyber World
* I redesigned JeanEisenhower.com to no longer hide my mind control work – and I put it on my business card, and on both I used a photo of me that I’ve avoided using for years because it seemed “too happy.” It’s been a huge psychological shift, though I still worry sometimes when handing out a card.
I renovated my Paradigm Salon website, consolidated pages, made them more accessible, filled in gaps in the information (and increased readership).
I started the Garden Healing Church, addressing natural healing and activism against enforced medicine – as spiritual necessity. The site continues to attract followers, even though I don’t post often.
I got my old laptop repaired and almost functioning with its own modem – for use by the fireplace! Yeah! What a nice way to treat myself!
Family and Friends
* We both reconnected with our parents and families in powerful ways. I even spent 6 days with my parents over the holiday! (First time to spend more than a few hours with them in over 20 years.)
We hosted a few garden parties, and stayed connected with long-distance friends.
* We helped an elderly friend die consciously, working with a wonderful group of volunteers, including nurses, doctors, chaplains, and shamans, making new friends – and supporting his wife. I 
photographed (and posted) an amazing thing Greg found a couple of days before our friend passed: a dragonfly emerging from its cocoon, into a new life!
I attended my first women’s gathering in years.
Other Art
Besides designing the guest house, our new fence, two gate handles, our many web sites, photography, videography, audio recording and mixing, and writing, I started knitting again – most satisfying.
Health
* Again: In June, I “quit everything,” and began focusing each day on what I needed to keep myself calm and able to handle life, and instituted new habits and changes to ensure I had what I needed. After six weeks, I came back to singing.
* In October, I created a Notebook/Journal to help me remember and track everything I need to remember on a daily basis, but often forget. I also used a timer every 30 minutes to help me note my activities and improve my time awareness. After a couple of months, I felt I didn’t need that intense reminder every thirty minutes, so I stopped using the timer, but knew it had been an important exercise in becoming more conscious.
I wrote over 300 pages of journal entries over a few short months, rich with new awareness, particularly about mind control and my relationship to it. I expect to post about it soon.
* I just created a new system of reminders to be awake on my iPhone: I created a series of lovely-sounding “alarms” to go off every hour every day (easier than the timer system). They’re all named “Breathe, Gratitude, and Note,” to remind me to breathe, remember what I’m grateful for, ask for guidance, and note it all, with either a journal note, voice memo, or mental note.
I started up at “Curves” again, started drinking daily turmeric tea, and got back to my supplements.
I invented “sludge cake”! – a gluten-free cake made from the precipitate (sludge) from turmeric tea – even when we eat it plain, we crave it – our cells tell us it’s great medicine. My recipe is here.
~
So, I was feeling like life had turned an important corner toward goodness and freedom – as I couldn’t remember any recent weirdness – until I skimmed over my journals, which I’d designed to make easy to find things by category. But when I looked, I found in my “anomalies” category, a lot of unexplainable experiences, which I’ll group by month:
2nd half of August: 2 “donut” bruises, 1 injection bruise, 2 scratches similar to biopsy scoops, another injection bruise and other bruise.
September: twice “lost time,” extreme energy issues, worsened ringing in ears, flood of “mental movies” (random things like family home movies of people I don’t know) that seem beamed in, big bruise on inner arm, scoop mark, time problem, dark bruise on left leg, hypersensitive patches of skin, 5 more days of severe energy issues, forgetful days, very tired.
October: worsened ringing in ears, movies in head again, heart problems (palpitations, stress, slow heartbeat [61 pbm], extreme weakness, days I thought I was dying), weird sleep cycles, 2 more bruises, one a double 
(“hypodermic”? or Taser?), one day so speedy I thought they’d given me some pharmaceutical to compensate for something that might have made me tired otherwise, missing time, feeling “out of it” and struggling to do simple things, another bruise. (I know the bruise photos sometimes don’t look like much, but they are so consistent and unexplained.)
November: Very bizarre experience of seeing my hand, while I was writing, as if through a yellow glass, but as if video’d from above my head, then run back into my mind (so I watched my hand writing in this second-person state), felt an “intrusion” of another being into my being, with a sense of goodness and reconnection (or maybe it was just “electronic heroin”), then I lost time and could barely put myself to bed (all one evening with my partner beside me), and my partner had to help me get to bed; another bruise; remembered things too vague to describe and was sick with fear.
December: Another bruise, dreams of medical procedures; energy “download” followed by no memory; dreams of aliens “all night.”
And who knows what happened the first part of the year? I haven’t the energy to look through my journals.
~
Okay, so I’ve got a problem: What to do? What to do when I recognize stuff is going on that is beyond my ability to consciously control or even remember?
This is my ongoing “Do something drastic? or what?” dilemma.
I like life when I have I seem to control my own part of it, but not when I get these hints that someone is highjacking parts of me. Not fun at all.
And I just found this old photo of myself with my mother on a train. It seems I’m about 5 or 6.
(It’s the only sad photo of me I’ve seen from childhood. All the rest are “super-cheerful.”)
Are we on the train to New Mexico? (That strange trip my mother took me on which seems so out-of-custom for our family?) For my mind control? After which I have no memories until age 8?
Ugh. How do I keep on? I feel sick. Have been experiencing nausea and anxiety all day now….
How can I keep putting it away as if it didn’t happen? Where is there to hide? Nowhere.
Recently I wrote in my journal about generating the power to control our own minds, thereby wresting control away from “Them.”
Is that even possible? My new million-dollar question….
From the “Top 25 Stories of 2014 Subjected to Press Censorship” – with my story and response – JE
7. FBI Dismisses Murder Plot against Occupy as NSA Cracks Down on Dissent (For full story, click here)
In October 2011, when the Occupy movement arrived in Houston, protesters were subject to local and federal surveillance, infiltration by police provocateurs, and police assault. Months later, a document obtained in December 2012 from the Houston FBI office shows that the agency was aware of a plot to assassinate Occupy movement leaders—and did nothing about it. And in Arizona, law enforcement collaborated with JP Morgan Chase CEO Jamie Dimon divulging Occupy plans. The CEO claimed he was simply avoiding possible protests, and local law enforcement was happy to help. Government documents from the National Security Agency and other government offices revealed a grim mosaic of ‘counter-terrorism’ operations and negative attitudes toward activists and other citizens.
Sources: Dave Lindorff, “FBI Document—‘[DELETED]’ Plots to Kill Occupy Leaders’,” WhoWhatWhy article, June 27, 2013. Beau Hodai, “Dissent or Terror,” Center for Media and Democracy’s SourceWatch/DBA Press, May 2013. Alex Kane, “How America’s National Security Apparatus—in Partnership With Big Corporations—Cracked Down on Dissent,” AlterNet report, May 21, 2013.
I used to be a radical activist, and I’m here to say it’s not for the naive, or for mind control subjects.
Thank Goodness, I only went to jail twice (for civil disobedience both times), but in 1992, I was Tasered while in the Durango Jail (during a peaceful drumming-and-dancing protest against Amoco drilling in critical Elk habitat) and have no memory of most of the afternoon or any of the evening. I was woken up near midnight and made to sit in a chair for hours while they pretended to be processing me out, but all they did was wake me every time I fell asleep. After that I remember sleeping, huddled, very cold, on a hard floor because they released me at 4 am and lied that no one had left me any message or phone number to call, so I had no idea where to go in the unfamiliar town, and it was very cold outdoors in Durango at that dark hour, even in the summer. I remember someone finding me and leading me out, but I don’t remember the breakfast where I was told we all met that morning.
Two years earlier, I’d wanted to do activist media work like Judi Bari; then she was car-bombed in an assassination attempt that a jury trial would later find the FBI guilty of numerous crimes related to the assassination attempt: not investigating it, slandering the activists who survived, and other charges. Judi was terribly wounded and needed a wheelchair the rest of her shortened life.
The year before that, two friends were framed by an agent who pretended to be on our side. He and an informer had been in our house on a number of occasions, pretending to be friends. A second FBI informer we’d seen at a gathering once; on trial, he talked about thinking of “pulling a Rambo” and gunning down all of us.
My friend, Peg Millet, a horse whisperer and defender of sacred places, went to prison for five years because the agent egged her on to commit an act against a nuclear power plant (rather than the symbolic act against a water pumping station in the wilderness), and even though she rejected his ideas repeatedly, just “conversing” with him was enough to be found guilty of nuclear terrorism!
It’s a mixed comfort to read the item at top for confirmation that someone notices and will report that we are all treated horrifically (it’s not just me!) just for demanding that certain laws be obeyed – laws that defend life on Earth.
The third-degree Taser burn I woke with one morning while finishing up my first video about mind control in 2010.
My story is far from unique and could probably be matched a thousand times or more by people across this nation, working on labor, race, education, surveillance, health, and many other issues.
And this is just one of “25 Top Stories” of stuff going all wrong in this nation. Check out the stories that the Media is not telling you. I dare you. ;}
First journaling in a while. Feel like I need to scream. Been worrying about how to read the signs (since I sometimes avoid prayer and contemplation – some programming that hits sometimes) especially when things go wrong like they have today.
I realize: All the “figuring” is a very basic part of my mind control; I need, instead, to remember during hard times to listen to the quiet things, use my intuition. And I need to rout out the programming that tells me I don’t have time for prayer and contemplation.
AND NOW I GET IT: “Rise and shine! Up and at ‘em! Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed!” – the waking I received from my mother nearly every morning of my life, the same three always-cheerful commands, every day, one after the other – was a major part of my programming – delivered by my handler-mom – of course, programmed herself.
telling me: Take no time for reflection, no time for yourself.
NO.
NO.
NO.
I will not do that anymore. Rise and shine. Up and at ’em. Bright-eyed and Bushy-Tailed. It never occurred to me that it was part of my programming, but I think now that it was. Work. Work. Work.
My mother’s father was killed when she was eight, during the Great Depression. Her parents were working as itinerant farm worker and construction worker. Now a penniless widow, her mother leased an ice cream sidewalk store, became famous for her sandwiches on fresh homemade bread, and parlayed it all into a successful restaurant and bakery with dining room, patio, walk-up window, and conference rooms. She catered to a group of bankers and developers, one of whom treated her like a mind control slave. While she worked to build the business, my mother and her sister spent a lot of time with their Mormon uncles.
I remember him coming to walk with her every day at a prescribed time. My mother was impressed about this, as I heard her speak of it a couple of times. Each day, my grandmother sat in view of the front door when he was due and rose immediately, cutting off conversation when he appeared. “And she never has told anyone what he says to her,” my mother remarked, as if this was impressive and not disturbing. Once, we walked with her to meet him, but he said little or nothing to us and walked straight away with my grandmother.
The programming: Give yourself no time for contemplation. We will give you precepts and our logic derived from them, and teach you how to prioritize and organize.
I think I’m doing better than most Americans because I don’t buy their consumerism, politics, or religion, but I’m still programmed to be productive and not waste time – which sounds like a good thing, but robs us of contemplation.
That’s why I’ve felt like screaming. Seven stressors hit in the last two weeks, and I kept my cool and performed on Sunday. Monday, I was tired, but I was so bothered by the desk piled high and our desire to post a recording that I forced myself ahead and had dreams all night long about my most un-fun subject: aliens. All night long. That’s a first. Then today, I worked hard on my home refinancing, and at the end of the day I was ready to scream. Actually, I had a response I’ve had a few times in my life, when anxiety is very high: like screaming, throwing up, and falling-down all at once.
But it’s been good, because a see a new aspect of the Big Lie now: Productivity. I think I was put into a number of programs, one of which was to be highly productive and manage complicated tasks. It’s been useful. But it has also made me so tightly focused when I work it’s hard to be social, as I need to switch parts, which is doable, but sometimes slow and awkward. I feel like a fancy experimental race car with a phenomenal engine and a tricky transmission.
But I’m healing that transmission, little by little. It’s been a bumpy road with set-backs when I’ve felt worse rather than better, but mostly I know I’m better, despite days like today. Today was a hard lesson day. I learned the consequence of taking on too much. Again.
I should never push that hard, unless it’s really important. I have to take care of my heart and whole health. So I need to make more than a commitment.
I need to change things in my environment to support my commitment, so that I have constant reinforcement to evolve, change, or rout out the programming and habit of my lifetime.
From now on, each morning I will give myself time in bed to record my dreams and thoughts, and decide what’s most important. I’ll take time to listen for any alters’ opinions, so no one’s left out and everyone’s needs are met. (That way, no one needs to act out to get attention, or have a heart attack, or get sick or depressed.) We’ll find our center, cooperate better, and not get confused so readily.
Morning will be sacred time, for being still. Productivity will just have to wait.
When I rise, I’ll walk slowly to heat my turmeric tea. I’ll sit in the most comfortable place in the house.
I’ll make myself a new journal with nice, functional paper (not these one-side-already-used recycled sheets others would throw away, but something that will honor my words) inside a beautiful, meaningful cover. I’ll keep a nice bed shawl nearby and pillow for my neck.
Ah….
The scream has gone.
I’ll return again to listening to my Wise Self and break another bit of programming. Back to Center.
Blessings on You All ~
The week’s highlights:
~ a powerful (and surprising!) heart-healing experience
~ discovered and rediscovered reading and videos
~ cleaned and cleared energy in house and yard
~ decision to limit computer use
Most amazing first: It began with a massage. Greg thought he was being intuitive, but I experienced it as being gouged in that soft spot just below the heart at the highest point beneath the ribs. It was so shocking that I ended the massage and was physically ill for two days afterward.
Greg felt terrible to have caused me pain and was confused because he didn’t think he’d gouged me at all. I went through bouts of serious fear that he’s multiple too and had subconsciously (in another alter) tried to hurt me. I freaked out quietly and practiced being calm and open-minded that maybe something else had happened that I just couldn’t understand yet. As my friend Darlene often says, “More will be revealed.”
As soon as Greg left for work the next morning, I called a healer friend. After asking me a few questions to eliminate more serious possibilities, she told me to treat myself very gently that day, hold that place, send it love, and give myself permission to cry. I did all those things, cried, then refocused on the work I wanted to do that day. But I also read a bit online and became convinced that Greg had bruised my liver.
For two days I moved slowly, skipped exercise, and the second day called a Nurse Hotline to make sure there wasn’t something else I should know about a possibly bruised liver, and was encouraged to go to Urgent Care – which I thought I’d do, but decided to keep doctors out of it.
My journaling was full of hate and despair for two days, though I could always turn my attention back to working on this site. (I had signed up for a WordPress blogging course, so it was helpful to keep my mind otherwise occupied.) I also slept two long 10-hour nights.
The second morning, my journal says, we talked in bed from 4:45 − 8:45 — four hours! – after which I wrote in the margin, “Really??” – meaning that I wondered if there was some amnesic time in there – more stuff I might have worried about, but I didn’t.
Instead, I felt inspired to do yoga for the first time in many, many months. I continued to upgrade my website, deciding it was worth spending the money on to be able to load videos onto. That was immensely satisfying.
Later, I went to exercise and worked the machines with more power and conscious sensation of my physical body than I usually have – of muscles exerting and relaxing, exerting and relaxing – fascinating and very satisfying. I marveled at this and was happy to tell Greg when I got home.
That evening when I finished my website work, Greg was playing music in the living room, songs I like to harmonize with, so I sat down and I joined him in a few.
Suddenly, I became aware that the area around my heart and liver felt different. The writer in me sought for the descriptive word, so I focused my attention there, and seemed to perceive a hole, an opening – something through which energy was moving! Energy was flowing, breathing in this place – so central to singing, obviously – so that now I could perceive – after the fact – the blockage that I’d always known was there but couldn’t feel or address, and now the blockage was gone.
I thought to test whether this was the blockage that had dogged my singing all these years, see whether I could sing with more power now, and I did notice a little new energy flowing up and into my voice. It was exciting. But I was tired. It had been a difficult couple of days, and I’d expended a lot of energy already in exercise, and it was late, so I’m looking forward to the next practice.
Apparently, Greg had pushed a trigger in me, probably something that has existed locked up in me for decades, hurting me for a few days, but ultimately releasing an old knot of something that had been clenched in my chest for who-knows-how-long.
I’ve heard more than once that sometimes in spiritual healing, you don’t need to re-experience all the horrors to clear them; sometimes, you can just feel the general essence of them, acknowledge them consciously, and “let them go,” bless them for whatever learning or wisdom they brought, however difficult, and let them go.
Sometimes they’re biggies and might take lifetimes to heal. However long we carry them, eventually, when we understand enough and accept enough, they can be released. And we feel the release in our bodies, and our bodies becomes freer, our minds become freer, our emotions become freer.
And I’m so grateful. (And grateful that I didn’t waste much time in “Oh, my God, this is horrible” mode. That would have been a big waste of time.)
“More will be revealed.” Yes, sometimes it makes the best sense to just suspend judgement and wait for that more. Thanks, Dar.
And thanks, Greg! And Elizabeth.
Not to say that some of those dark things that had me in their spell for a few decades doesn’t represent some important truth worth knowing. They are very worth knowing; they just aren’t the whole truth.
Even when we think they’re the most controlling energies in our lives, we need to remember they’re not All. There are also wonderful energies dancing all around us all the time.
We must experience both, but we don’t need to go down the drain just because some of the energies seem to want to pull us there. Our job is to keep rediscovering our relationship and learning new skills. (Hmmm, sounds like my old definition of shamanism.)
(Ironically, the last accomplishment I’d noted in my journal before the massage that kicked off my heart disturbance and healing was the creation of a new Spiritual Healing page, “Healing Help,” in which I compiled my best offerings.)
From teacherweb.com
My other favorite writing this week: My first “Friday Foundation” series, “Mind Control in World History,” my first “Friday Random Beauty” post, a few new paragraphs at the end of my Home page, and a draft, “Scribe for our times” post that isn’t up yet.
Rediscovered writing and videos: The transcript of DC Hammond’s “Greenbaum Speech,” offering the psychotherapist community help in healing multiples, and The Century of the Self video series – we’ll be rewatching all four hours of these over the next weeks – they’re that good, and that important.
Just discovered last night: The Culture High:….”is the riveting story that tears into the very fiber of modern day marijuana prohibition to reveal the truth behind the arguments and motives governing both those who support and oppose the existing pot laws. … incredibly moving testimonials from both sides of the spectrum. Top celebrities, former undercover agents, university professors and a slew of unforgettable characters from all points of view come together for an amusing yet insightful portrait of cannabis prohibition and the grasp it has on society as a whole.”
And the Citizens Commission on Human Rights videos – regarding the abuse that psychiatry has become – in a series of engaging, entertaining, and scary videos. Maybe a little heavy-handed at times, but I’ll be watching more and reporting back.
One more accomplishment is both negative and positive: I collected a huge to-do list from my last weeks’ journals. So I gotta ask my muses – or multiples with so many great ideas: You/we gotta slow down.” Breathe. They’re all on a list. Nothing bad will happen if any don’t get done. Relax.
So, I decided I want to limit my computer work. When I was a hermit on the land, I always kept a commitment to turn off the computer before sunset and to be out on the west patio every evening, whatever the weather, watching the sun set and the light change from day to night. It was a wonderful practice.
Not a normal New Mexico sunset, this sky was made dramatic by smoke from a nearby forest fire, 2012.
My new home here is nestled into a hill on the eastern slope of the southern Rocky Mountains, which block the dramatic views that were the daily staple of my previous life. Now, to the west, there’s just small-town neighborhood rising up the hillside toward the Continental Divide. So I lost my daily sunset habit, and sometimes now I write all night long.
So, to support my healing, I want to write and otherwise be on the computer only part-time, and so I plan to experiment, and see whether I can turn off the computer at noon or early afternoon each day, leave behind the world of ideas in bits and bytes, and make it a joyful ritual to go into the garden (or the sunroom if the weather is unpleasant outside) and see how the plants are doing, reconnect with the living world.
This alter-like art was created in the flow of clearing energy recently!
Healing comes in lots of forms. The most recent I’ve encountered and written about are: accidental (thanks to spirit helpers guiding us), clearing space in our physical environment (a biggie!), spending wordless time in the garden, exercise, and eating excellent, tasty, healing food.
Wishing you, my readers, many healing blessings,
And very grateful for mine ~
Jean
Jean Eisenhower
Silver City, NM
November 3, 2014
Each week, after posting “Friday Random Beauty,” I plan to post a yin/yang opposite essay titled “Friday Foundation” [of this MK stuff]. This is the first.
From teacherweb.com
“Mind Control in History” led a recent poll of my readers for subjects you’re most interested in.
By coincidence, I happened to touch on the subject in my journal this week when I was feeling particularly down:
My choices are: amnesic slavery to criminal psychopaths who threaten me with more torture, or…?
I guess a lot of humans have lived with this choice. In fact, I think it’s the history of the world. (Does it make me feel better – that I’m not all alone in this? Hardly, but I feel that my eyes have been opened.)
We pretend those millennia of slavery were in our barbaric past, but I’m realizing now they’re still very much with us – just taboo to be spoken of, as we all go about the ruse that we’re free in this nation.
The impoverished majority knows we are not free, but they dare not speak it for fear their few freedoms will be lost. People of the “wrong” race, people of certain bloodlines (mind controlled), and people who’ve been randomly abused by the rulers know, but most of us usually keep quiet when things go mostly our way.
Because I’m not a historian (far from it!), this will not be a comprehensive treatment of the world history of mind control, but I promise, with readers’ help, to add to this page over time. So I welcome – no, strongly encourage, plead for – your comments, reminders, and educated additions to my scattershot ramblings here.
“History is written by the conquerors,” we’ve all been told, and so I’ve always distrusted and disrespected it, and sure enough, Americans are beginning to understand now how much of our history has been a lie. Still, of what we think we know, much of it supports my thesis.
From teacherweb.com
The image above I chose because it defines history unapologetically as “The Game of Rising Empires and Falling Powers.” (Thank you, poster artist, for being so honest.) It’s all about consolidating planetary power and control – and I assert that it includes mind control and has for a very long time.
Let’s start as far back as we know, in Sumer. Sumer appeared suddenly on Earth, seemingly out of nowhere (as if dropped from the sky), with a full-blown civilization including roads, plumbing, language, law, accounting, libraries, universities, armies, religions, etc. – when nowhere before had there been anything but stone age artifacts. American academia tells us its appearance is a “mystery” yet to be solved, while they denounce a very logical explanation from the Sumerians themselves!
The Sumerian library contains tens of thousands of clay tables impressed with their history, accounting, genealogies, legal proceedings, and other records. American academics, though, tell us the history is only fable, even though that history neatly explains the “unsolved mystery.”
Scientific process asks us to consider all the evidence, even if we don’t like it, and even if people in power tell us not to look at it. So let’s look! (Maybe we’ll discover some American academic mind control.)
The Sumerians went to great effort to leave a detailed record about the civilization created on Earth when the Anunnaki (“people who came from above”) decided to settle here to mine gold. When their workers rebelled at the conditions in the gold mines, they undertook genetic engineering to create new slaves who would accept being miners – resulting in the first Earth humans.
But the humans rebelled, and the Anunnaki (gods) continued to be frustrated that the humans demanded so much. The gods used punishment, offered rewards, and created moral codes and religions, setting up priests to lead the people. And when humans especially frustrated them, they decided to let the entire population be wiped out by a Flood they knew was coming.
After the Flood, as recounted in the Hebrew Bible – which has apparently consolidated the Sumerian story of two ruling Anunnaki brothers into a single, self-contradictory deity – Enlil/Jehovah decided, when a few humans survived, to let them live but to shorten their lifespan from hundreds of years to 120 years, so that humans wouldn’t have time to learn enough about their own lives and pass it on to their children, thereby keeping the race dumbed down – mind control by genetic engineering.
And sure enough, today most people in their later years realize they haven’t really understood life well enough, especially with the lies we’re told in school, to live well until they are almost outa here!
Now, add to that our American culture’s idealization of youth and disregard of the aged, and we can see how elder wisdom has little chance of being passed on to succeeding generations, assuring that the rulers of culture, rather than parents or grandparents, will determine the mindsets of the people.
Of course, minions were needed for the rulers to accomplish all they have, so some humans were recruited into higher ranks, given perks, and so began class and racial distinction, secret societies, racial strife, and more.
This is painting with a very broad brush, I acknowledge, but it explains a lot that exists on Earth, which I assert is not human-caused. It’s caused by gods (small g) manipulating humans throughout the eons, perverting and despoiling human potential for the gods’ own purposes. Some might even call these gods demons. (And one particular demon asserts that he and all who follow him may be gods. Interesting twists in language and meaning, huh!?)
I hope my interpretation of the gods is not confused with my or anyone’s concept of God (capital G), a loving Prime Source Creator, which I do choose to believe in. The confusion between God and gods and demons is likely an intentional part of our cultural mind control – complicated even further by the use of the oversimplified word alien – which we’ll deal with in another post.
Dictionaries have always been created by the rulers. Look to see what they include and what they don’t. For instance, heathen and pagan, the dictionaries tell us, mean someone Godless; yet those words only meant “people of the heath” (meadow-dwellers) and “people of the forest” – but those meanings were perverted when the people living in nature resisted the Catholic Church’s efforts to draw them to the city with threats of the terrors of The Inquisition! Language and social control operating hand-in-hand.
Even today, all the words used for millennia to describe the changing of the seasons – Samhain, for instance, the “cross-quarter” day between the Autumn Equinox and Winter Solstice, that has become Halloween – and is still observed by many who now call themselves pagans – and the rest of the eight days, except for Yule (Winter Solstice), are simply ignored, though you can find many other less-used cross-cultural words in the dictionary. Controllers of language are working hard to keep us separated from nature – and I suggest: our more-powerful natural selves.
Regarding our concept of time, (excerpt from an earlier post), Jose Arguelles published in 2002 a substantial book – Time and the Technosphere – calling the Gregorian calendar the most fundamental aspect of human mind control. (A web search for the title will bring up many videos and articles by others resonating with this idea that the calendar is basic to our control.)
While some of the metaphysics of Arguelle’s book feels beyond me, I’ve certainly felt the subtle mind control that it is.
From the time we sit in kindergarten, reciting, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday…, we understand we are part of a system which cycles 5-2-5-2-5-2-5-2…work 5 long days, play 2 short days, work long, play short, work long, play short. And everything from that moment on which has anything to do with a calendar reminds us that we are part of a world of 5-2-5-2-5-2, work long, play short.
The natural world teaches us something nicer: slower cycles of 14-14-14-14… and balance.
As I wrote in all my Almanacs:
Ancient people invented – or discerned – patterns that seemed to facilitate harmonious living, that encouraged an energetic cycling of activity and rest, like inhaling and exhaling, waking and sleeping, summer energy and winter hibernation….
Today’s lifestyle requires many people to work intently for five consecutive days, resting for only two, relying on caffeine and/or other drugs to keep themselves going. Perhaps the equal cycles of waning and waxing moons might inspire us to create more balance in our lives.
There are many more types of social mind control: manipulative economics, false education (mixed with useful), indoctrinated racism, violence, threats of violence, genocide, malnutrition, toxic environments, political charades, and more. All these influence our ability to think, our thinking processes, our moods, our initiative, etc.
Along the way, someone discovered hypnosis and the propensity for certain traumatized people (handy that rulers have often traumatized people) to “dissociate,” become suggestible, amnesic and obedient. In the 19th century in Europe, people like Anton Mesmer drew world attention for dramatic stage shows and crowds of the well-to-do seeking “healing” by “magnetism.” By the 1940s, European police, eyewitnesses and court were the first to extensively document the plight of one victim of criminal mind control, Palle Hardrup, which I wrote about in an earlier (and most searched-for) post.
Eventually, less brutal broad-scale mind control was directed through “news” and entertainment. Then it was personalized with highly sophisticated means of delivering to each person exactly what pacifies each.
So here we sit, in front of our computers, working, surely, and enjoying connection with friends and loved ones, but also accessing pleasure of an infinite variety, feeling a sense of participation, given creative expression, filling up our days with whatever we want, ready at our fingertips, keeping us too occupied to resist whatever culture has in store for us next. We can choose to learn history, but most people will choose pleasure.
If we think do we want to change something, we click an icon to tell our political representatives to please vote this way or that, but most of those politicians are mind controlled and paid well to ignore us.
What historical aspects of mind control are most glaring to you? I’d love to hear from you.
Back in the late 90s, I read a memoir, FBI Secrets: An Agent’s Exposé, by retired agent, M. Wesley Swearingen, who after 26 years in the agency was involved in several successful lawsuits against the FBI related to wrongful imprisonment and civil rights violations. (He was also involved in several successful lawsuits against his former employer, including “The US v. John Lennon,” and also wrote a book attempting to shed light on the murder of John F. Kennedy.)
He described carloads of up to 12 agents with a routine that gave each person a specific job, so that there could be no errors: one person watched in one direction, others watched other directions, more watched from other points nearby, someone opened the house, others watched from various posts inside the house, photographers, observers trained to return everything to their precise places, record keepers, drivers, etc.
They entered the homes of anyone, even elderly peace activists, and photographed all sorts of information they hoped would lead to any sort of understanding of these war resisters and all their connections. Swearingen was concerned because he knew the people were of no real threat to the United States, only practicing their right of free speech and trying to participate in our “democracy.” Nevertheless, they were targeted and their homes broken into on a regular basis.
So I’m not as oblivious as I wish I was. Sometimes, I come home, and my cat is so upset, I ask, “Were the feds here?”
A few years ago, a friend suggested I buy portable door locks, which she was astounded I hadn’t already done, given my experiences. So I ordered two online and installed them as soon as they arrived.
On the second morning after I began to use them, February 8, 2011, I discovered one of them obviously broken, not as it appeared when I installed it the night before – and two very disturbing wounds on my body. The first I noticed as soon as I awoke: an irritation as though something had been inserted up alongside my clitoral shaft more than one inch deep inside! (An implant? What will they do with that?) 
The second was two scoop marks on my finger, which I’ve already posted about. So much for the door locks for protection.
In 2012, I made a list of 98 various events that had happened between November 28, 2010, when I woke with the Taser burn, and April 12, 2012, when I began a long series of doctors’ appointments for unexplainable and debilitating neck pain – and afterward recalled a dozen more events, including scoop marks that I’d photographed a few days ago and forgotten. In between, I’d experienced lots of debilitating and unaccountable exhaustion, bruises, neck pain, and more, so much that I was having a very difficult time keeping my job.
I’ve written about all these things before.
But there’s one subject I’ve never written about, and that is the communications harassment. I haven’t written about it because it’s hard to prove, but I’ll put it out there in case others have noticed the same.
When I tried Facebook for awhile, a few years ago, I started getting suspicions that my posts were being messed with.
One close friend I shared my concern with asked, “Why would they bother with you? You aren’t doing anything serious, are you?” Only exposing mind control. She replied that lots of people do that or similar, and they aren’t messed with. Actually, I told her, many are, and probably those who aren’t are only revealing what’s already been exposed by others, then peppering it with disinformation – as Swearingen and others exposing COINTELPRO have described.
(Noam Chomsky was quoted on BBC: “COINTELPRO was a program of subversion carried out not by a couple of petty crooks but by the national political police, the FBI, under four administrations… By the time it got through, … it was aimed at the entire new left, at the women’s movement, at the whole black movement, it was extremely broad. Its actions went as far as political assassination.” Watch.)
As Swearingen’s memoir proves, the intelligence agencies don’t need “serious” targets. They want to quell anyone who’s threatening the corporate economy, war, and their mind control systems. I also theorize they need “lesser threats,” like me, to practice their skills on, at least. But since mind control subjects are kept controlled by fear, the Internet provides a very simple, low-cost way to inject worry, fear, isolation, and more into my life. I may choose not to worry or fear, but I, and others, can still be easily and effectively isolated.
They have a long history of doing exactly what I’ve described back when it was a whole lot more trouble: they’d have to do custom work on typewriters to create imperfections similar to the typewriter of the targeted person! Many people would be required (your tax dollars at work), even for peace activists. They studied people’s styles of speech and writing to make their fake communications most believable, and compiled psychological databases so they could refer occasionally to personal things in a most believable way.
Now it’s so much easier, all the data needed delivered to their desktops. Responses easy-sneezy: no more matching, ink, paper, and handwriting or typeface.
Their goals were and are: to discredit activists, cause fights and rifts in groups, mislead, and more.
For whatever reason, it seemed they were interferring in my Facebook communications. It would always involve someone not close enough to me that I’d feel comfortable calling them to ask exactly what was the wording they read, supposedly from me, that caused them to respond to me the way they did. But usually the response was just subtle enough, not worth a call – or too much trouble to explain.
Regularly, I had friendly acquaintances, just “distant” enough, suddenly become pointedly less friendly and avoid me on the street. And not just a few. I started dreading walking down the street, for fear I’d be shunned for I didn’t know what. It was very depressing.
One day, I posted something then logged out of Facebook, and logged back in under my partner’s name, and checked my page. My post did not exist! I logged out and went back to my page and saw it again. Logged out and back in as my partner, and again it didn’t exist. Fifteen minutes later, it was there on his page, exactly as I’d written it – of course, they wouldn’t be so stupid as to change my post for my partner. But my partner’s posts always show up immediately and get responses from friends in the first few seconds. Mine always took 15-20 minutes before people began responding. Weird.
I theorized that they had created tiers of my friends and acquaintances, changing my posts for whomever I was not likely to talk to and who wouldn’t broach the subject of a weird post with me. It was really upsetting to think that the feds were creating a negative portrait of me that I’d supposedly never know about. And suddenly, even though I did not post about mind control on Facebook, I was losing friends for no other reason I could figure.
Some friends have said that this is just too much trouble, but it’s not. The software to do what I’ve described – diverting communications – already exists. Software for creating “action plans” for various people – serious criminals, mind control subjects, those warranting medium or serious harassment, and those warranting mild harassment, maybe just to practice on. I used to have business software over 15 years ago that would have facilitated most of this.
You can bet there are rooms full of agents with data available at the click of a key to guide them regarding frequency, level of action, key phrases, etc. A single person could easily intervene in 100 communications in a workday. Even if I was a low-level concern, I’d be used for practice, with just enough weirdness to keep me isolated and fearful, just what they want for mind control subjects.
I have similar concerns with email. Recently, I contacted an old acquaintance I was hoping to visit, but he became hostile for some reason I cannot fathom (except for this), and I wondered if the feds made him think I was causing problems, or if the feds made me think he was. He’s just distant enough that I don’t dare call him, especially since he seemed so angry (though he might not really have been). I have no idea what they might have portrayed me as.
It’s extremely sad. And isolating. Making me tough, I like to think, but I don’t know.
With our world so accustomed to instant communication – without being interrupted by phone calls – we’re dependent on the Internet, yet I can’t trust the Internet anymore, and I can’t explain to most people why I don’t. So I keep on, but it feels very vulnerable.
The only option would be to stop my activism, which I won’t.
I also used to get regular Internet reminders to update software for remote control of my computer! Apparently I have the software on it – otherwise, it wouldn’t recommend updating – but I cannot find it; it’s invisible to me. Finally I chose to have it “not remind me” anymore. But I assume it’s still there.
I’ve thought of getting a Linux computer, but then they’d have to break into my house to do what they do, and I’d rather they not. Big Brother is certainly here. If he just weren’t a murderer and torturer, I might accept the “transparency.”
I’ve also had my computer turn itself on in the middle of the night when I was up and unable to sleep. Sitting next to it, it suddenly sprang to life and started humming as if it was downloading or uploading data.
When I produced my first 
video, “I Was One”, it received over 2,000 hits in less than two weeks, and then one day the numbers dropped to half that! The same thing happens all the time on my channel: I’ve seen the numbers drop from 12,000 to 10,000 in a day, and who knows how many other times it has done that.
Anyone else experience similar?
I’m recovering, yet again, from another “hard day,” Monday, when I woke up at 10 am (I’d been unable to sleep until 3 am) and had to force myself to do anything, which turned out to be very little.
Eight days earlier, on August 17, I’d discovered a strange injury on my left shoulder blade, where two other things have mysteriously appeared in the last couple of years, which still bother me:
In April 2012, I woke one morning with an itch on my left shoulder blade that didn’t go away for 4-8 weeks. (Greg was bothered by an itch on his left shoulder blade too at the same time, but I’m more highly sensitive and so was bothered longer.)
Later, a fan-shaped bruise appeared, with its point right where the itch had been for so long. I theorized that an implant was radiating some sort of energy that was bruising the tissue.
Over two years has passed, and the bruise has become a more-amorphous shape, but is still there, and doctors have no explanation. (Well, one had an idea, but the diagnosis didn’t fit the condition’s description, and the next doctor thought the first was wrong, but had no idea. She’s seen all my photographs, read about MK, and just shakes her head.)
When I woke with this strange injury on August 17, very near where the original itch had been, I wondered if perhaps “they” had scooped it out, or replaced it, and whether the bruise will soon fade. We’ll see.
The photo above shows the new injury and the two-year-old bruise. (Double click on it to see it larger, and you can even zoom in for decent detail.) I took this photo last night, August 26, a full nine days after it appeared, and it has hardly healed at all.
This is interesting, because most of my weird injuries heal mysteriously fast – like the “thyroid surgery” scar, which showed up on my throat one morning entirely healed). Can’t explain it, other than that it seems like someone with higher technology than ours might have done it.
Now that I’m feeling stronger, I went back through a journal only a week old and read things I’ve totally forgotten – things important to remember, about my healing. And reading my posts from two years ago, I realize they also contain great advice I wish I’d remembered and continued to practice!
Therefore, I’ve decided I need to quit doing so much and just focus on my healing.
I’m quitting a lot of things. I’m quitting my garden design workshop and consulting business. I’m quitting singing. And I’m forgetting any idea to get part-time work. (I’ll get my first Social Security check next month, and I have a partner who brings in a little income, so I have this luxury.)
The only things I’ll keep doing are my own personal healing work and writing related to it. I also plan to keep better track of past writing, so I can remember past lessons and make some progress.
I’m – maybe for the first time in my life – going to make taking care of myself my number one priority every day. Yeah!
Blessings on us all.
And really: Take care of yourself.
Jean
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PS: Here’s a blog I wrote two years ago with similar conclusions: http://paradigmsalon.net/2012/04/13/tired-of-this/
