Tag Archives: Mormonism

Isolation in Weirdness

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.

Watching “Karla”

orange-new-black-season-3-spoilersImpressed by the incredible actor Laura Prepon, of Orange is the New BlackI looked her up on Wikipedia and read:

MV5BMTYzNjU3OTAzNF5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwOTcxMjIzMQ@@._V1._SX94_SY140_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.

for a seedI 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:

Screen Shot 2015-02-13 at 8.24.02 PMScreen Shot 2015-02-13 at 8.20.32 PM Screen Shot 2015-02-13 at 8.20.21 PM Screen Shot 2015-02-13 at 8.20.03 PM

– Rapes, psychotic personalitiescuriously 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.

Image result for laura prepon alex vause imagesFlashing 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.)

Image result for laura prepon karla imagesKarla 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.)

It’s top-notch acting, directing, everything.

 

And a true story.

I grieve for the world….

May it be over soon.