You’d think that if you were watching a movie, and the camera zoomed in on the watch that the main character wore and kept checking, so tight a zoom that the watch face more than filled the screen, you’d notice the time. And you’d especially notice the time if the character repeated the action and the director repeated the zoom four or five times.
Not me. And because the time – always the same – was critical to the plot about time loops, I didn’t understand the movie until my friend told me the time was always 7:42 (or whatever; I don’t remember).
Realizing what I had stubbornly refused to see – at least with my conscious mind – was a powerful shock and an important and helpful wake-up call. My recent life, the last 22 years, has been a series of such shocks and awakenings.
It was the spring of 1994 when I realized, to my horror, that I was a “multiple personality.” In the 22 years since, I’ve realized I’m a unique sort of multiple – not the kind with random parts that highjack the system and lead crazy-making alternative lives for hours or years at a time.
No, my “system” [multiple personality jargon] seems to be quite organized in comparison, and even to function well enough that I’ve won awards and national and international recognitions for achievements in everything from news reporting and fundraising to videography and Permaculture education. This isn’t unusual for multiples, as many of us are geniuses.
My system of alternate personalities – I believe I have a wealth of evidence to prove – was crafted by psychiatrists and mind control researchers beginning shortly after I was born. My history begins with the CIA’s Human Ecology Project (a front for mind control research) on the campus of UC Davis, where I lived from age 3 days to 14 months. After that, we moved to Merced where the cousin of the Secretary of the Interior, Addison Udall, was my pediatrician. After my 1st and 2nd grades, for which I have total amnesia, my family moved into a new custom home that backed up to or near a home of Stewart Udall.
My history continues matching many aspects of the stories of other mind control subjects around the United States and Canada who’ve either published their stories, testified before Congress, or whose counselors or therapists have told their stories, or whose details have been compiled in research.
My mind control programming seems to have been constructed along the lines detailed by DC Hammond, the psychiatrist who first came forward and described this problem and its possible cure to the American Psychological Association in the 1980s; and by the controversial researcher Fritz Springmeyer, who presents a diagram of typical alters, scores or hundreds, constructed in shells, like a computer program, making it possible for someone to command a particular alter to perform a particular function perfectly when, where, and as desired by the use of cues, similar to pass codes, which access programs which are regularly reinforced and updated. So my multiple-ness doesn’t function randomly or dysfunctionally, as movies and books often portray, but precisely according to some Master Controller’s plan. Usually.
There are exceptions to this, of course. All us mind control subjects, for instance, writing books and testifying was not in the controllers’ plan. Because this is research, not perfected yet. Some of us early research subjects, from the late forties and early fifties, are in our sixties now, and that means that brain cells aren’t being replaced as rapidly, and mental things are deteriorating. What deteriorates might be “simple memory,” as the average person might think of it, but the brain cells lost might also be part of an amnesic wall or part of a program – meaning that we might begin to remember things we’re not supposed to remember, or we might begin not following commands we’re supposed to follow. Indeed, around age 40 – as brain research predicts – I began to remember what I wasn’t supposed to remember.
At first I ignored it, thought it some weird aberration, for which I invented all sorts of theories to override the one thing it seemed to be, put it all in a box, on a high shelf in a mental closet, shut the door, and didn’t think about it again for four years, until another break-through memory happened again. Then I repeated the process: in the box, on the shelf (saved without looking or mentally tampering, to maybe investigate later), shut the door, and forgot.
After another four years and a sudden crisis of cancer, divorce, moving with teens, one seriously ill, and a nervous breakdown – I went to a therapist’s office, listed my challenges, and followed them with words that had never crossed my frontal cortex until I heard my mouth speaking them – quite the surprise: “I think I’ve been sexually abused as a child. [shocked pause] No, no, that’s not what I meant to say. I don’t want to deal with that. I never even thought about it before [lie], and don’t know where it came from. I have more serious, immediately pressing needs to talk about.”
And so began my 22-years-and-counting journey toward understanding what’s been going on with my mind. The first year, 1993-1994, I coped with the shock of memories of sexual abuse and the spells of amnesia that had plagued me. The next 8 years I coped with the shock and self-diagnosis of Multiple Personality Syndrome (aka Dissociative Disorder). And the following/recent 14 years, I’ve been trying to figure out what to do with the understanding that I’ve been – not just a regular “multiple” – but a mind-control subject, someone with a psychological and psychiatric “technology” applied to multiple alters in me – created intentionally – your tax dollars at work.
So what does this have to do with not noticing the time? I can only guess, but I know that we can be programmed for any number of things, to support a program of any purpose, sometimes because a subject is being actively used for intelligence purposes (seems unlikely at my age, but possible), and sometimes because a subject is being used for research in new programming techniques, drugs, working with aging subjects, etc.
When I don’t notice the time, it’s easier for my controllers to use me and have me not notice.
In 1994, deep in my initial nervous breakdown depths, I was powerfully moved by the idea that it would be good for me to anchor myself fully in the time cycles of sun and moon and not by clock and calendar, and I lived that way in my hermitage for half of each week while commuting the other half of the week to school in the city. I thought it was a very spiritual concept, a psychic liberation from the broadcast mind control of Gregorian Calendar and chaotic clock; but it could also have been that I was given the command to stop watching the clock, so that I could be more easily used while alone in the desert. In 2000, when I began living there full-time, I quit noticing the time entirely, unless I needed to know.
If forced to look at a clock, as in the movie, I studied the craftsmanship of the frame, or the lighting or camera operator’s techniques. Sometimes, lately, because I’m trying to re-ground myself in time, I see and note the time, and then moments later realize I’ve forgotten it.
I’m still trying to figure out my brain, and try not to feel too bad for finding it so difficult; after all, the government spent a great deal of money and science to keep me from knowing. So I take heart in whatever little scraps of understanding I can gain.
How do we keep going? Maybe Spirit. Maybe our programming. I ask this question often.
In either case, it is usually lonely, because virtually everyone falls in one of two camps: it doesn’t happen, or the likelihood is slim; or they know but they just don’t want to hear about it, sorry.
It’s surprising to recognize how long I’ve been so compromised, forced to compensate with notes, notes, notes, reminders, struggling, lately overwhelmed….
Noticing, though, is the first step to healing. Gotta appreciate what we can.
My life is exquisitely difficult to talk about. It’s woven with extreme themes – sexual abuse, mind control, aliens, mysticism – and with accomplishments that make me shy, and failures that embarrass me, and critical facts that embarrass other people.
My lottery ticket to this crazy life may have been as simple as my birth date. I was born on a Full Moon, on a Monday (Moon Day), in the middle of Cancer, also known as Moon Child.
So were the numbers: I was born on July 7, 1952 − 5+2 adding up to 7. Three sevens. Then my mother gave me a name with 7 letters: Jean Ann.
on the day of my birth. The next day, the local paper would give my birth a short column to remark on the coincidence.
In my 20s, I became an activist for peace, and later for social justice, and environmental sustainability. Along the way, I insulted the FBI with media releases exposing their most incriminating statements which I sent to 600 major media around the world, nearly every day of the 6-week “Judi Bari v FBI” federal trial – and the FBI was found guilty.
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.
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.
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.
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).
I’ve woken with Taser burns, a burn on the back of my neck – both third-degree with skin burned off – scoop marks, injection bruises, “donut” bruises, lacerations and punctures in my vagina, healed scars including one my doctor thought was a thyroid surgery scar, total exhaustion, and occasionally dealings that seemed to be with aliens (which could be induced hallucinations or real). 
A two-part article with detailed info (6 years old, but….) about evidence that went to court!
bruises, burns, and other weird marks on my body (hundreds), and woken up in such absolute exhaustion that getting out of bed was extremely difficult and I didn’t recover for more than a day.
are able to read this post, you are able to do the work it takes to remove yourself from any ongoing abuse that you are tangled in. Of course, your perpetrators won’t tell you that you can get out, but you can get out and away from them anyway. You are older, wiser, and stronger than you were when you were just a child. You can find ways that will work for you, you can find safe people to help you, and you can be safe. Talk lots and lots to your inside people – it’s only as you work together as a team that you can beat the external controls. It takes a lot of hard work, but if you all really want to be free from abuse and safe from harm, you can be. It can happen.
psychically attacked, suddenly aware of life-long mind control subjection, relieved that life makes sense, terrified, near-suicidal, partnered with teepee-dwelling artist, budding artist in pencil and fiber, repeatedly terrified, mysteriously vaginally cut, heart attack, spiritually healed and encouraged, environmental activist again, solar oven educator, passive solar designer, single again, driven from hermitage by poverty, moved to small town, student of consciousness, Transpersonal Hypnotherapist™, author, mind control activist
Wrote last July 11, just discovered and edited it:
Some people have theorized – and this is one of the “more comforting” ideas – that one of my alternate personalities is creating the wounds on myself at night. I can imagine this being the case for something simple like what I’ve called “injection bruises” which always appeared on one of my thighs, usually the front.
But I can’t figure out how anyone could create the scoop marks – on my right hand.
After my most recent, probably third, heart attack last month, I had two such healing events. One happened, incongruously – proving that this comes from an outside source, not my own doing or imagination – while watching a video with a friend. Of course, I was surprised at the timing, but grateful, and didn’t even mention it to my friend. That night, while lying in bed, drifting off to sleep, I was awakened by the healing energies again. They were “the usual”: wonderful, expansive, clearing, and healing. The next day, after 12 days of extreme weakness, I woke feeling very well, and my 12-day long crisis was passed.
even though I sacrificed for it
I never had much respect for the ancient Greeks – but then, history, as taught at my schools, was never my strong suit, and I’d never thought it made sense to bother learning about an ancient people who put so much stock in something my culture called “mythological,” i.e., not real.
Regular readers know I have an extensive interest in all sorts of mind control, including the most subtle – false information – and that which leads to mass obedience.
