Tag Archives: denial

Jesus’ Agony

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Every so often I come to a point where I start to question everything.  I question these memories, or my Others and how separated are they or if they are real.  I test whether or not the life I remember is the life i lived.  I get to a point where I am like, Oh COME ON ALREADY!!!   Are You Serious??? Really???  Every once in a while it gets to be too much, because honestly I am currently living the life that fits with the past I remembered.  Usually this happens when I am faced with a major change of perspective on how I apply what I am learned so far to my life in a way that I can not hide from. It is then that I go back to what brought me here in the first place.

This path I am on started ten years ago with St. Padre Pio.

It has been Ten Years Already!  Wow!  Back then I was 75% sure that I had not experienced abuse.  The first day asking for St. Pio’s intercession to heal this mental chaos, he gave me one small flashback.  And that was it – the question’s I had throughout my life regarding whether or not anything abusive happened was in fact answered.  But, isn’t that interesting too?  I always questioned whether or not I was abused – as if even as a young person I knew what I could not consciously know.

This post is more of a continuation of two previous posts:

Setting the Stage for D.I.D.

Accepting the Worst

When I was probably 2 years old our family lived in an apartment.  Hanging on the dining room wall was a painting that my great-grandparents bought when they were first married.  It was a painting of Jesus in the garden of olives (I believe is called the garden of Gethsemane?)

As a very little girl I would look up at that painting.  It was a very dark painting, set in a dark wooden frame.  It was difficult to understand what the painting was about.  One day, my dad must have been sober for a moment and took interest in his daughter pondering this painting.  He stood next to me, and gave me the opportunity to ask him, “Who is that?”

He said it is Jesus.  It is a painting of His agony in the garden of olives.

I didn’t know who Jesus was or what agony meant, but couldn’t help staring at this painting of a man kneeling and praying with heartfelt expression on his face.  His apostles, sleeping in the distance.

[39] And going out, he went, according to his custom, to the mount of Olives. And his disciples also followed him. [40] And when he was come to the place, he said to them: Pray, lest ye enter into temptation.

[41] And he was withdrawn away from them a stone’ s cast; and kneeling down, he prayed, [42] Saying: Father, if thou wilt, remove this chalice from me: but yet not my will, but thine be done. [43] And there appeared to him an angel from heaven, strengthening him. And being in an agony, he prayed the longer. [44] And his sweat became as drops of blood, trickling down upon the ground. [45] And when he rose up from prayer, and was come to his disciples, he found them sleeping for sorrow.

[46] And he said to them: Why sleep you? arise, pray, lest you enter into temptation. [47] As he was yet speaking, behold a multitude; and he that was called Judas, one of the twelve, went before them, and drew near to Jesus, for to kiss him. [48] And Jesus said to him: Judas, dost thou betray the Son of man with a kiss? [49] And they that were about him, seeing what would follow, said to him: Lord, shall we strike with the sword? [50] And one of them struck the servant of the high priest, and cut off his right ear.

[51] But Jesus answering, said: Suffer ye thus far. And when he had touched his ear, he healed him.  (Luke 22:39-51)

For some reason, that painting connected to my heart.

Growing up learning the traditional catechism, we were taught that during Jesus’ agony Satan was there.  The devil showed Jesus all of our sins, all the horrible things that would still happen until the end of the world regardless if Jesus suffered on the cross or not.  And the devil showed these things to Jesus – ALL of the sins of mankind – all of this within an hour.

It makes sense why Jesus was sweating blood from every pore of His body!

I try to place myself in that position…

Jesus, during this agony, saw…

innocent babies being tortured,

children being raped,

children being scandalized in countless ways,

His own church, His own priests abusing others

His own followers allowing Satan to infect, betray, and deceive

Jesus saw how “anti-apostles” who are satanic priests would deceive others into allowing them into a catholic church, turn the unleavened bread into the body and blood of Jesus, only to then turn around and use His body and His blood in black masses – and still, nobody believes this happens.

That is not all, no, He also saw the suffering He was about to endure.

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Jesus saw and felt not only the victimization and perversion of innocence, but also the sins of those who committed these crimes.  Contemplating this in regards to my own life feels impossible because I know how hard it has been to remember and allow Christ to heal me.  Just one memory alone is too much, let alone my entire existence and lives of those who did in fact choose to abuse and torture me.

Jesus saw this all, before he died.  Not only my life and the lives of those who did this to me – but every one – ALL sins til the end of the world!

No wonder he sweat blood.

So, whenever this all seems like it is too much I unite myself with Jesus Christ’s Agony in the Garden.  Whenever this seems like it is too hard to believe when another memory comes up – I suffer through the memory anyway.  Jesus endured my memories, and He didn’t deserve to suffer through them.

Jesus took some of the suffering upon Himself, so that I wouldn’t have to suffer as much.

When it all is too weird for words, I say to myself this:

“Even if this isn’t true, I am going to suffer this anyway because chances are that somebody somewhere in the world is in fact going through this.  Chances are that somebody in the world is too weak to endure remembering their trauma, and I am remembering now for their sake.”

This is how I unite myself with Christ’s agony as best I can.

Then, I am usually reminded of all the examples that show me how this is all true and I did go through this.

Gethsemane6

Jesus, I trust in You!

 

Sometimes, it feels like we will never get through this.  It feels like the suffering will never end.  The hard days become more common that the okay days.  But, I know that as long as I am able to cry out to God –

God will show His mercy and His love.

Accepting the Worst

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When I began writing about coming to terms with having multiple personalities/dissociative identity disorder about a year ago or so the idea of accepting that there has been a BIG chunk of my life that I did not know anything about has been a struggle.  The idea that so much could have been done in my life and yet, I haven’t known it – it’s hard to accept.  I mean, I remembered hanging out with my friends like all the time.  But when they would make comments suggesting that they were not with me like I thought – I dismissed them as being crazy.  So – I had NO clue that any abuse was happening or that I had a bunch of other personalities handling the abuse.

For memories of abuse to be so well removed from my own memory means these memories are pretty horrible.  The memories of what was done are so horrible – really it is not something anybody wants to fantasize about.

Sometimes, acceptance is so far down recovery road that just acknowledging we are victims of a certain genre of abuse can be overwhelming to the point of nausea and passing out.  While I read passing out from recovering traumatic memories is extremely rare, there is one type of abuse that would make me extremely sick and pass out at the mere mention of it.  It has taken more than a year to come to terms with the idea this was possible before I could talk to my husband without getting sick over it.

Other memories can be entirely confusing because – I’m a catholic girl, and would really like to be a good catholic woman and frankly – I personally would never do these things (relating to satanic ritual abuse) in a million years under any condition.  The idea that any part of me could have been programmed or abused into following their orders has also been tough to accept.

God’s Divine and Infinite Mercy – as long as I am willing to say I am sorry, then I can be confident in His forgiveness!  Praying the Divine Mercy chaplet really helped me look at the horrible memories that God was shining His light on.  Also, I can not stress enough:

Pray that God will help you to know and accept the truth!

There is only one truth.  1 truth about my life and I ask God who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life to help me have the courage to know and accept this in my life.

Try to accept the worst.  Open your mind, loosen the hardened heart.  Protecting ourselves is only hurting us.

Yesterday was Sexagesima Sunday according to the traditional Catholic calendar.  This means we are about sixty days before Easter.  The priest connected the epistle and gospel in a wonderful way and inspired me to write today.

Sexagesima Sunday

Epistle  •  2 Corinthians 11:19-33; 12:1-9

Gospel • Luke 8:4-15

http://www.fatima.org/prayer/epistle/sexagesima_sunday_epistle.asp

In the epistle, St Paul said “but for myself I will glory nothing but in my infirmities”.  The epistle also mentions suffering.  Then the Gospel talked about someone spreading seeds on the ground and how depending on the type of soil the seed lands on the seed may or may not bear fruit.  The seed being the word of God and we are the soil.  Click the link above to read the epistle and gospel.

Ground that is tough and infertile will not help a seed grow, but if we can see our weaknesses and problems with humility we can loosen that soil.  People who have been neglected and abused  during childhood learn that we must protect ourselves.  Oftentimes when we do that we harden our own hearts to make ourselves as strong as possible.  We were only children trying to hold it together.  So we firmly hold on to all of the ideas and teachings that sustain us.

Hey, doing this kept me alive, so I don’t knock it as long as it’s keeping you going.  However, I am older and stronger now.  I don’t have to protect myself the same way now as I did then.

Yes, I hardened my heart and swallowed my tears (like the song, lol).  And in order to loosen that heart and loosen the soil I must grab a garden fork and stab myself in the heart with it.  It is painful, but in a way that is what it feels like to accept the worst. I had to die to myself and every idea and self perception.  So, you dig down deep with the garden fork and turn things around.  You loosen the soil, loosen your heart.  Now the brokenness is even more real, it’s more painful now that I am conscious of it.  But, the air suddenly is reaching my heart and I can breath!  The water is penetrating me and, you know what – my heart is not so brittle and cracked from drought anymore!  When you lift up your brokenness to God, it is then His grace can penetrate you and do the most healing.  It is when I could be honest with myself – accepting the truth about my life – that God could really do some pretty darn amazing things to aid the healing process.

So, have courage.  God is with you.  God sees all and knows all.  He knows all of your thoughts even better than you do.  Be brave and face yourself.

If “A” is true, then isn’t “B” true?

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Here is more of the story.  I don’t feel safe talking about this to anybody I know, other than my husband, and that is why I am anonymously online disclosing whatever it is that I can figure out.  There is a need to “report” – a mechanism that I destroyed within me although the need to heal through talking is still active and necessary I think for any human being.  The difference which frees me today is that I am not compelled to talk to my aunt and uncle about strange occurrences which I see now directly relate to the actions and life of my alters.  I have the ability to talk to anybody I want to, although prudence leads me to stay silent (except for my blog). Okay, actually, I still am missing a lot of pieces…

One of my happiest memories as a child was my dad telling me that I could be anything I wanted to be.  He gave me hope and showed me the doors to becoming whoever I wanted to be.  My dad and mom were married as teenagers.  They had to take whatever job they could get in order to pay the rent for the house my uncle bought for them.  We lived in a nice middle class neighborhood in a decent school district.  Beyond our neighborhood was a large farm.  The kids would cross over the creek, building make-shift bridges would start a marvelous adventure.  Then they would trek across the large corn-field, but when they saw the farmhouse they had to be careful because the farmer there would fire his rifle at the kids (as far as I know, nobody was ever injured during their adventures).  Just beyond the farmhouse, at the other end of the corn-field was the *oh-so-awesome* *SECRET* military base with nuclear missals pointed at the USSR during the cold-war.  Of course, this wasn’t much of a secret since all of the kids in the area knew where it was.  The kids would come back talking about how they saw vehicles coming and going, it was surrounded by a barbed wire fence, it was guarded by men with M16’s.  Of course my brothers NEVER let me go with them!  Finally, when I was in junior high a friend of mine and I walked out there – and my curiosity was satisfied.

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Methodical Destruction

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Hypnosis at home, do I really get hypnotized?  I am not sure if I can be truly hypnotized because of how my programming was set up. I was set up to go into a trance when ever the trigger was used.  I know in general of one trigger, although I am unable to remember the full trigger as it was used.  I know there were multiple triggers so that my alters could be brought out with or without access to a cb radio or cd/tape player.  I believe the mind control was used to direct me towards obedience and actions relating mostly to sex, satanic rituals, or torture/pain.  This ability they created (so to speak) caused me to be very focused in one direction based on the method they used to suppress me and bring out the alter of choice.  An alter personality either focused on satanic rituals, or focused on sex – two very different yet very entwined mind states since they both can rely on the other.  I still do not have my entire memory back relating to how the programming was done, however I know it was more than being strapped onto a table and being over stimulated with strobe lights combined with various sounds and smells and feelings.  A big part of the programming relied on the satanists to reinforce what the government wanted from me.  I am not sure if the gov’t had a specific purpose for training my split(s) a certain direction or if they were simply experimenting on certain groups of kids with various familial backgrounds and personalities.  I do know though that a group of adults was needed for some of the programming in order to reinforce and continue the destruction of my identity.

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Back to the beginning…

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Discovering something severe did occur in my childhood was not easy to accept – even though I had enough reason to accept it.  Anything short of the truth simply would not be enough.  I had to know what really happened and if I was barking up the wrong tree.  I needed validation.  Walking this path without proof has been an excellent exercise in practicing faith and hope in prayer and real life, let me tell ya!  It means leaning on God and believing He is not only listening to your prayers, but guiding you from within as well.

Still, my personal need for validation overwhelmed me and I gave in to it.  About 8 months after talking to a priest, I talked again to my aunt.  I asked her more about the old babysitter, she gave me more information on them.  I brought up the flashbacks I had (I expressed these in previous posts).  That was when her anxiety became visible.  She shifted her stance, rolled her eyes so hard her head went along too.

I did my best to allow her to put the blame on me.  I told her these could be false memories, that I am just trying to figure out what happened.  She went back to the old couple who babysat my brothers and I.  I had even brought up my uncle when talking about the memories that came up, but she did not bother once trying to defend anyone.

My aunt was already mad at my mom (her twin) for wanting to find the daughter my aunt had given up for adoption (this girl one of my alters is named for so my aunt could play mom to me/her).  When this recent development came up, my aunt decided to give up any relationship with my mom.  How do you do that to your own twin sister?  How do you betray your own family so much that you allow your own niece to be used in cult practices?? I don’t understand – but I do know that I will be required to forgive those that hurt me!  Argh – anyway…

I did what I could to mend my mom’s relationship with her twin.  I sent a letter giving my aunt every opportunity to say “none of this is true, you are wrong,” but she wouldn’t do it.  My mom had asked her sister if it was possible my uncle may have abused me, could anything have happened – but my aunt refused to answer that question.  She only acted offended, yet refused to say that her husband never abused me.  She wouldn’t even lie.  There were so many times I wished somebody would tell me nothing ever happened.  Then I could go on believing the lies I had been fed.

My dad heard by this point that I thought I may have been abused as a child.  His reaction was mixed,  half denial, half shock.  I haven’t brought it up again with my parents.  This was a couple years ago.

This event pretty much ended the preliminary searching and questioning my view of reality.  This experience helped me to see there is in fact more to my life than I or anyone else has been willing to admit.  Nobody could tell me the truth, and that meant I had to go deep within my self in order to unlock the memories already there, just hidden.

A couple months later my husband and I began our own therapy.  Honestly, I believe this works out best for us. I had been to several therapists in the past, none of whom were any help.  I saw a psychiatrist who only diagnosed me with ADHD.

I had NO idea how well my husband and I matched up when we got married.  God really did have a plan for us.  My husband has a very unique life history which combined with his God-given nature has made him the best man for the job!  It is like God guided our lives (given how human free will has impacted us in tremendous negative ways it astounds me that God somehow did this without going against free will) in such a way that everything the devil did, God was able to out-do!  Which, makes sense – God is all-powerful omnipotent – it just puts me in awe when I think about the semi-big picture.  Even through all the pain thrust at me as a child, even though it seemed like the devil may win because numerous people around me knowingly rejected God, somehow – I have a lot to be thankful for!

Even though the truth hurts, it does set you free.  Even though I suffer low lows along with nice level times – somehow – even when I fall, God is right there waiting and offering me a hand up (even when I’m too hurt to believe it).

Our Lady of Ransom

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Today is the feast of Our Lady of Ransom. It is fitting to post something on this day! Our Lady appeared to St. Peter Nolasco, along with two other people asking them to found an order that will focus on freeing slaves. In our modern world (especially in America) it is common to believe that slavery is a long-gone thing of the past. However, that is not the case. The modern slavery is one that occurs without even the parents of some children knowing the truth! You will see what I am talking about when I am able to post more regarding my story.

Mind-control is very hard to believe, but does happen even on a larger scale than anyone may be willing to believe. I have lived through it while going to mass every sunday. Our priest used to do exorcisms monthly (as a prayer not a solemn exorcism, mind you) as my alter personality was being used by evil people. The priest sensed something, and he was correct!

To clarify – half of me is the good catholic girl, the one who loves God and desires to serve him perfectly; my other half consists of two personalities who lived among the satanists as their victim, their torture toy, their experiment.

Our Lady of Mercy

Our Lady of Mercy