I question often why I survived what I believe is something not meant to be survived.
My memories from the late 1960s, early 1970s still control much of my everyday existence in 2019.
My brain as a child split into so many parts that on any given day I don’t truly know who is speaking or thinking in our body. The experts call this poly-fragmented Dissociative Identity Disorder. I call it a chaotic hell.
So many fragments of me. All holding different feelings, stories, images, and talents. So many of them still children no matter how old the body becomes.
The fact that so many parts of me are children causes me to hold beliefs that only a child would hold.
I have spent years trying to convince my therapist she just doesn’t understand what it means to be raised in a religious community. She doesn’t get that a child must accept the religion they are born into, well, at least as children.
The right and wrongness of it never seems to really matter in my story. It is just not relevant. I think all forms of religion probably involve degrees of brainwashing that become your core beliefs and understanding of the world.
My birth community has robbed me of my life. Yes, I still exist, but feel lost everyday wondering why.
My brain is twisted in ways that are terrifying to me, and frankly, unspeakable to others. It is an easy secret to keep. No one outside my therapist would believe me, except others trying to survive similar histories. Perhaps those from my community would know of what I speak, though I imagine none of them would speak of it back to me. It is the silence that binds us.
Quietly on the outside, but chaotic and noisy on the inside, I try to navigate the choice I still face every day since I was a toddler.
The people in my community did great harm to my soul and mind. They went to elaborate lengths to make me believe I need to choose each day whether I will choose LIFE with those from the underworld, who require constant sex and scary, dark secrets to be kept; or choose a loving god, which will still require constant sex as an expression of love for this god, and ultimately require SACRIFICING MYSELF through blood-letting to show my true allegiance to this loving god.
This daily decision torments me. The “loving god” people seem so much nicer, even with their demonstrations of blood-letting and requirements of group sex. These are happier people. Drugs are plentiful whether desired or not so as to make the experience wonderful for everyone. They don’t hold the darkness of the underworld. Yet, they require me to end my life to show true allegiance. This is what true Christians do. These happier people come from The Way International.
As a child, I did not want to die. Though today, I am constantly drawn to the sacrifice of myself. It seems so freeing. The ultimate expression of love. And escape.
Instead, I am crippled by my selfish desire to live which requires my allegiance to the underworld, and all the brutality it entails.
My therapist says this is not a decision. She says you cannot make a choice when one choice is your death. This is all confusing to me when she speaks of this.
My rational adult mind knows this is not a choice for a child to make. This was an elaborate creation by deeply disturbed adults. Yet, the hundreds of children who live in my mind face this decision daily with only their child minds to understand it all.
Religion. Smoke and mirrors. Drugs. Mind control. Power. Survival. Satan. God. Jesus. Love. Hate. Violence. Sex. Pain. Freedom from it all. Controlled by it all.
So many people message me everyday that I should not take my life. I should stay. It is wrong to commit suicide. I don’t really want to do it they say. And the final nail, they say I don’t know what is waiting for me if I do it.
Don’t get me wrong, I do get messages regularly instructing me to kill myself. Yes, I am aware that makes me sound psychotic or schizophrenic. I don’t really care what you call it.
My mind, body, and soul has been subjected to horrendous trauma. In all that mess, my mind has been altered in ways that benefit those who perpetrated this abuse. It is easy to mind control a child, and if you are smart enough to know how to induce dissociative parts, you are golden for life as the mind will forever be controlled.
My mind can often get controlled by symbols or words. I won’t describe them here as I am not stupid enough to believe there are not still people who would use this to harm me.
Look at our epidemic of sex-trafficking. So many people think this is a new, outrageous problem. It is not. It is simply another version of my childhood.
There is always a market for the sick and perverted. Today’s technology, culture, transportation, and political views allow this to prosper without much difficulty.
The missing children who crossed the Mexican border. It is certainly not the first time our government engaged in assisting with sex-trafficking.
Yeah, I know, these are simply ramblings from a crazy person. None of its true. We live in a lovely world with lovely people who would never do what I have suggested. Just ask my mother, I am sure she will tell you this is all crazy and you should not believe one word.
It’s cool. I have listened to her my entire life. She is quite persuasive and powerful.