When the overt attacks began in 2003, they spent many hours interrogating me about my adolescent fiction stories and myths. I used to draw cartoons, play out stories with toys, and write fiction. It was in the magic/fantasy genre. Fantasy stories, not sci-fi - it wasn't in the future, and it wasn't high-tech. This was witches-and-wizards type fantasy. Sometimes it also was present-time, with normal humans having unexpected adventures. A lot of it was psychological and had to do with dreams, paranormal, illusions and mental phenomena.
They were interested in my myths. Maybe I have been controlled for a long time, when it was covert, and my myths were influenced by them. Lately they've been talking about 'the prophecy.'
I created a planet called Darcon, which was inspired by Fantasia in the Neverending Story. Darcon, like Fantasia, was the place where all of my drawings, stories, and fantasies went. Even if my drawings accidentallly got lost or thrown in the trash, the characters would still live on Darcon.
Darcon was healthy until I was about 14 years old. Then, it was destroyed by a demon called Sloemaeyir and his four dragon-like, ghost-like creatures, the Zhants, named Emphth (Lightning), Kundt (Storm/Wind/Tornado - I'm not sure if this storm contained water, or it was only dry air - I would have to dig out the drawings and see whether I drew raindrops falling from the clouds or not), Sheltza (Fire), and Zorfth (Earth/Earthquake/Volcano). It was left a dry blackened desert, the entire planet.
That was also about the time when I started having more health problems, getting depressed, and withdrawing from some of the activities that I used to do, like piano lessons. I think it was connected with my getting braces, having teeth removed, and getting a cavity filled with silver-mercury-copper amalgam. I also started getting my hair permed, wearing makeup occasionally, and using acne treatments, so I was exposed to more chemicals than before. I can think of a lot of things that happened during that time that might have made me become sicker and more depressed.
I didn't finish writing the story, but, the myth said that four characters would appear on Darcon and travel across the black desert to meet each other and reawaken the world. I started writing about one of the characters, but didn't get to the others. They connected with each other through dreams and visions. There was a lot of suffering and torture on the journey. It usually involved not being able to tell the difference between illusions and reality, and it also involved being isolated from others.
Luke was a dog, a cartoon character who I drew in health class (and any other class, actually) in seventh grade. He was given his name by Chris, the guy who sat in front of me, who used to turn around and watch me drawing. One day Chris wrote the word 'Luke' above the dog, and I kept the name. Luke had a pet snake named Rover (and back then, I wasn't consciously thinking about phallic symbols, so he was nothing but a snake). I shared Luke with my best friend Rachael - she always got excited to see whatever new things he was doing, whatever adventures he and his friends were having. She read my stories as I wrote them.
Luke originally had a normal, happy life with the other dogs, who were sometimes doglike, and other times, anthropomorphic, or whatever the word is for humanlike. Sometimes they ran around on all fours and other times they stood on two legs, talked, and held objects in their hands with their fingers and opposable thumbs like people. They were like 'people with fur.' Apparently I loved fur and hair that much all the way back then. I wasn't aware that it would be described as a 'fetish' to want hair on people. It seemed normal to look at it that way: that humans had lost something wonderful, something that other animals still had. I never liked the 'humans lost their hair because we're more evolved and we're superior to animals' interpretation.
They interrogated me while I slept, and I felt someone speaking through me, telling them all of the answers, all of the childhood stories, all of the myths. They treated it as though it was my religion. But I remember there was a very negative feeling - someone was greedy, stealing all of it, something that was private and precious to me. I felt like nobody understood me, when I was young - nobody understood what was important to me, nobody understood my feelings or who I was. That's not really true - my brother understood me better than anybody else, and then after that, Rachael did. But still there's always some time whenever you feel as though your own feelings are in a different world from everybody else's. Whenever they stole it from me in the interrogations, it was my whole private, secret world being made into somebody else's tool of mind control. They were looking at it to find out what was important to me, so that they could use it to control me. That was, again, after I quit the Judith Swack therapy, when the overt attacks began.
Luke was sort of timeless and ageless. He lived in different phases of time. An example of this is, it's like Aeon Flux, who dies over and over again, and then is alive and well in the next episode. (I am uncomfortable with snuff fetishes, because of the problems that began with the guy in the chatroom in 2000. A snuff fetish was involved.) I shouldn't use Aeon Flux as an example. Lots of other cartoon characters do that same thing. Luke wasn't dying in every episode - that's not what I mean. But he lived in drastically different places and times that were disconnected from each other, and it would have been impossible to be in all of those places and times. And there was no explanation as to why he was sometimes in one place, sometimes in another place. (*Maybe they were thinking of Aeon Flux because I saw that movie a couple years ago, instead of the cartoon. In that movie, - spoilers.... they were having problems with infertility, and there were spy systems and things controlling everybody's lives and preventing them from having children.*)
In one of his phases, he had all of his gang of friends. In another phase, he was a homeless wanderer, playing his guitar as he traveled. In another phase, he was journeying across the black desert of Darcon, trying to remember where he came from, where he had been, and how he had gotten here.
Recently, they have been tying in this story with some events in my real life, which is why I said they were using it as a tool of mind control. In Luke's desert journey, he is separated from all of his friends and cannot communicate with them. They become taunting illusions that he cannot reach. No matter how hard he tries, every time he reaches out to them, they are only a mirage. Or it's only a dream, and he wakes up.
This has been connected with a real-world paranoia that I am having, about people trying to reach me in email, but being unable to get through. Or they cannot visit my blog, because when they look at the page, the page says it's gone. If they get a reply from me in email, it's a fake letter written by somebody impersonating me. And I might have actually emailed them, but my letter was intercepted, and my real letter doesn't get through, and a substitute letter or a censored version gets to them instead. If they read my address someplace and want to send me a letter through the post office, they actually read the wrong address, or wrote it down wrong, or somebody delivers it to the wrong place, and for whatever reason, it can't get through. The recipient is waiting to receive letters that never show up, and becomes more desperate to hear from people who never speak to him/her. 'They,' the voices, are sometimes portraying me as that unreachable person, and sometimes portraying the guy from work as that person. The theme is sadness, frustration, isolation, loneliness, desperation, and gradual breakdown and loss of sanity.
I hear voices where somebody blurts out a phone number quickly, but I can only catch part of it, and the rest is cut off. I've had voices trying to tell me their name and address. I used to try telling them what mine was, too. I hear voices telling me that somebody is going to commit suicide unless I can contact them right away and tell them it's okay and I believe them. Sometimes they tell me that they're trapped someplace, held captive, and they're forced to zap me, and forced to put voices in my head, and they try to resist, but they can't resist, and they can't escape.
I am going to talk on the phone to a real-world person today, in a little while. She is somebody who answered my Craigslist Cry For Help, with regards to my being sick and overwhelmed with the need to clean up the household contamination and do everything else at the same time. She is the first person who I will be working with in the real-world, labor-exchange agreement, where I help you, and you help me, doing ordinary physical chores and projects. It is this type of thing that will counteract the isolation, the frustration, the being separated from all of society, that I have suffered for years. I will meet people in order to work together with them.
This project is my responsibility. I am doing it because I saw, after the household contamination, that my life was slipping away, with disaster after disaster, and I realized: the disasters will never end. It will always be one more new problem, year after year. And being female, I have a limited time in which I can bear children. I did not want to lose that opportunity forever. I saw that I could not possibly fight against the disasters all by myself. Every time I almost recovered from a disaster, a new accident would happen. It would be an illness, or the wintertime problems which were probably mold-related, or an economic bubble that would cause job layoffs, and so on.
I spent many years thinking that soon, very soon, the future would be better than the past. I'd pay off my debts, I'd pay back my parents, I'd fix this or that health problem, I'd make things better in a lasting way, I'd get a better job if only I took some more classes (using borrowed money)... But the household contamination disaster was SO SEVERE and so overwhelming that it was the last straw.
They reminded me recently about Eek the Cat, who says 'It never hurts to help!' only seconds before he gets run over by a car or something. He always tries to help somebody, but it destroys him. They reminded me that one of the reasons why I wanted to get the herbal stimulant drugs was because I wanted to get enough energy to work lots and lots of hours, and earn lots of money, partly so that I could contribute to helping Peter, so that I could make his life easier.
And Peter reminded me of Alexander, my stray cat who had died recently. I felt as though he died because I was living in an apartment where I wasn't allowed to keep pets (since the landlord has rabbits outside and doesn't want them to get killed by dogs and cats). I had wanted to move to a place where I could keep Alexander with me, and I would have been able to observe him closely and make the decision to take him to the vet whenever he was dying. But I didn't move to a better apartment, because I was still floundering, trying to pay off debts, trying to keep a job without getting laid off or fired or quitting. Alex was at my ex-boyfriend Eric's house, and I used to go over there all the time to visit, but I wasn't there constantly. So when Alexander started throwing up, and couldn't keep any food or water down, we thought it might just be a temporary virus, and I decided to wait a couple days to see if he would get better. But then, he just got sicker, and he died. I feel like maybe, if he had been with me, I could have seen him and I would have known what to do, and I would have taken him to the vet. But I couldn't get a better place to live (where pets were allowed), because I was still trying to recover from all the disasters of my life.
So when Peter first showed up, right after Alex died, this was somebody else to take care of, and I wanted to try again. But the things that I did to make myself stronger - trying to grow herbal stimulant drugs - destroyed my life, and I was even LESS able to help.
'If only I do this one thing, then soon, the future will be better than the past.' That was always the theme. Try one more thing and it will be better. But everything I did, I was doing it by myself, and often it required or implied the borrowing of money.
It is not possible to do everything by yourself. I can't cite references, but 'studies have shown' that real-world social support networks are probably THE most important factor that determines how healthy a person is, physically and psychologically. I have read about intentional communities - the successful ones, not the ones that failed - and the people living there give and receive social support all the time with daily tasks, such as raising children and cooking food. Meals are healthier and cheaper and home-cooked. Disasters get fixed sooner. Unemployed people get financial support. I do not mean this in a Utopian way. I mean it in a realistic way, that life in community is not 'perfect,' but BETTER than the isolation in the mainstream world, with their single-family dwellings, 'nuclear families,' and single people living alone and not knowing their neighbors.
Well, in a little while, I will be talking on the phone. This wasn't entirely 'my' idea - it was partly 'their' idea, as I have been discussing it with 'voices' for a long time now. It's normal to be suspicious of 'things the voices tell you to do,' but sometimes, they encourage me to do things that I already mostly agree with, and this is one of those things. There is a lot of work to do, and this is only one small thing... but it is happening in the real world instead of just being talked about.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment