Tag Archives: sra

Still Quiet

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About nine years ago already was my first flashback.  It only consisted of two hands and arms of a boy wrestling with me to hold me down.  This flashback was triggered by my husband being affectionate with me.   I could not see anything other than two hands and forearms.  My eyes were open, but I could not see my husband.  I couldn’t see anything other than these two half arms pinning me down – or trying to.  I was moaning while my husband held me but I was reliving childhood, fighting a boy.  It took my husband a few times of asking “What’s going on?” while he was holding me before I could get a good grip on reality.

Our third child was only a baby at the time and we were living with my parents.  Needless to say life was stressful.  My initial reaction was to finally think I was actually abused at some point during childhood – but probably only one time and that’s why I had forgotten it.  Four years later I had my next flash back involving a satanic ritual where some man was wearing an animal head with horns.  Between my first and second flashback I absolutely POUNDED my brain for memories!  And, yeah, I did get quite a few memories, but what I recalled back then did not paint the picture which is before me presently.  The memories I retrieved were choppy and didn’t make sense.  They didn’t fit together.  In fact the truth was still being furiously protected.  I was more willing to believe a new lie, just to protect myself from the truth.

One good thing about the various ideas I had about my past was that even though I may not have been completely accurate to begin with – the exploration helped me to become capable of handling the truth.  Much of what I retrieved initially was actually correct, but some of it was not.  Now that I can see more of the whole picture – I am ok with having been wrong at times.

It is knowing that I am not perfect and can interpret things incorrectly at times that helped me to keep all of this crap to myself for so darn long!  From the very beginning my goal was to keep the commandments.  One in particular I have done my best to keep is to not bare false witness.  Knowing there was no substantial proof to bring forward allowing me to say, “See… See it now!  My uncle did this!!” all I could do was keep it inside.  I never went up to anybody accusing them of abuse.  But, you know what, I never had to.  Asking questions to try and figure out if any of this was worth pursuing was enough to break the family apart.

That was all I needed to move forward, at least within myself.  As long as I have no proof or witnesses to support my lonely word I can not go to my family.  This is just me, other people and families are in different positions.  My family is not in danger by my keeping this to myself.  But, the danger of divulging what I discovered is much much more severe.  Maybe that is just the programming though.  Either way most people in my family wouldn’t believe any of this and if anybody did it would cause so much strife.  I have told who I needed to tell what I needed to tell.

It is hard to keep this to myself – to be so anonymous.  So many times the intense compulsion to open up to my brothers or anybody else in my family nearly won out over sense.

So many times the burden of this trial made me cry out to just reprogram me – let me forget what I remember!!  But, I have hope and faith that one day I will be able to open up to my family.  At that point the burden, the cross may seem to be put down for a moment and transformed into a new burden.

The point is, patience has served very useful so far.  If I had told people years ago they would have only heard my immediate interpretation of these memories which really was a very narrow scope.  I understand now that there is SOOOO much more going on.  The most important understanding of the past didn’t come until after I was accepting of the few shocking memories that came back.  Looking back at the journey so far I would have stopped a long time ago had my husband not supported me in healing.  If one or two people even mentioned disbelief before I was strong enough psychologically to defend what I know now is true it would have made me crumble and give up.

So keep praying, put one foot in front of the other every day – and before you know it there is a lot of healing behind you.

—Dory

The broken heart in pieces

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In a sense, the division of my personality into separate parts is more like the broken pieces of my heart. Left to heal on their own, there has been no shortage of scar tissue. This scar tissue, so to speak, became more like walls that separated each part. Each broken piece of my heart became self sufficient on its own. Some parts had been able to communicate with each other. My piece of the heart, however, had no communication or knowledge of any other bits. Maybe my heart was smaller or less capable than the hearts of others, but it was my heart and I would make the best of it. Read the rest of this entry

Introduction

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How do you help a person understand where I have come from and where I am now? This journey through life so far has been one of deep deception and major betrayal as well as great Love and Hope. Since I am almost certain my close family would not believe the truth – that they have been severely betrayed and still are completely clueless about any wrongdoing – I am here, online and anonymous to bear the truthful witness to the severity of evil in the world and the power of God to overcome all evil provided we are only willing to persevere through suffering.

Let nothing disturb you’ let nothing make you afraid; all things pass away, God never changes. Patience obtains all things. He who has God lacks nothing; God alone suffices. St. Teresa of Avila

I am a Catholic mom with 6 daughters. I live in the midwest and was raised with the traditional Latin Mass. My parents are good people, they are just as much victims as I. Throughout life, I thought my deep pain was only from being bullied in school. However, I could never heal from it! Now that I know the truth, healing is progressing. It wasn’t until after my 6th daughter was born that I finally came to grips with not only having been sexually abused as a little girl, but was passed around within a satanic cult and used as a slave for pedophiles. This was made possible with the use of monarch programming. To make it simple, I would stay at my uncle and aunt’s house overnight. My parents trusted them. This aunt is my mom’s twin sister – she lost a daughter about my age. So, I would go to sleep for the night. While I thought I was in bed, uncle would bring me to the occult rituals. I was back in bed long before sunrise, left to awaken in the bed, just as I was when I went to sleep. Whatever happened was “just a dream.” At least that is how it all began.