November 2, 2012 9:30pm
There's really not much different today, just more of the same.
I woke up about 6:00pm today, and as usual, before my feet hit the floor, I have to start hearing X putting on her dog and pony show. On one side are X (the rapist from 1969) and my sister T, both trying to push their transtesticle agenda on me, which is just more of their abuse from 1967-70. It was X and her husband who trained me to "want the dress" in 1967 when there was a meeting at the grade school and she just had to screw me over. That was when X took my mom and sister G to the store and when they came back, X started saying things to me like, "Look. G got a dress. You want it, don't you? You can't have it." So, of course what does a 6 year old know? It worked like a charm, her training.
At the meeting at the school the next day, they called my sister G in and asked her what games did we play at home, and before that teacher or social worker got to the next question, my sister G started calling me a liar and telling those people not to believe me because I was just a liar. She did this without any prompting. It was X's training on her. This is also probably why X always brings up my sister G's name, which I associate with the word "liar." Not that she's a liar, I wouldn't know since I've hardly seen her in the past 30 years, but the association is there for X to play with.
Sister T seems to be X's better friend in all this, which makes sense because sister T used to push the same dress crap on me back then, too. She used to call me a faggot when I was that young, and since she is 9 years older than I am...Well, you can figure out who should have known better. She painted the nails on my hand once, complete with polka dots, and told me to "go outside and show everyone what a faggot you are." And I did. And the neighbor kids laughed.
When my dad got home from work, he yelled at her and told her to take it off. She didn't have any nail polish remover so they sent my sister G to go to the store to buy some. Sister G was usually caught in the middle of these fights. So, sister T took the paint off my nails, just crying all the time. She must have been really clueless. Abusing little boys and crying about it when she got caught.
I looked up the word faggot in the dictionary back then since she used it often. According to the dictionary, sister T thought I was a bundle of sticks. Ha. But of course, she told me what it was, screamed, really. My mother pushed me out of the room when sister T got that way.
Anyway, X and sister T keep the abuse they started about gender crap, faggoty crap, and abuse in general going. According to them, that is the real me and that is the one that people should talk to and analyze. The one that I have to agree to be. Nonsense. I don't have that mentality and they know it. All of their 'copy the drag queens' training is just an extension of their abuse from a long time ago. They claim X has been talking to me all about this through the years, etc, etc. The fact is, I suspect they did take me out of the house, before I put in cameras, when I was sleeping and told to remember what happened (what they pick and choose for me to remember) as a dream. "You were just dreaming."
In real life, the last few times my mother mentioned X, about six months ago, was to say, "X says you should get the medical marijuana," and that I "should go on disability." What? I haven't smoked pot in almost 13 years. Don't even think about it unless X and her idiot kids, FF and CC, throw out an association. As for disability, I work. Despite all their harassment while I'm working, I still work.
That's what I hear, X and sister T, and their cover stories, carnival freak shows, threats, and lies. I hear this in my left ear, or brain, or whatever, but I hear their crap on the left. On the other side, the right side, is more crap that I'm subjected to. **Some voice, sister J I think, just said, "You're burying yourself."** It is that couple from the episode at McC's the store, from 1985, F and Fatso.
Those two have their own crap to hide, see October 28th post. If X and sister T are hell bent on rewriting the past into what it never was, F and Fatso are hell bent on ruining the future. Their big push is to get me to join the queers. Just join them and everything will be so much better. Nothing is getting better, no matter what I do.
They love to use the suicide thing from McC, the store episode, and apply it to whatever they want. It's really being used to control outsiders, mostly, because I'm not suicidal, but they can show that to their audience (their dupes and suckers, really) to get people to cooperate with them and read something to me, or ask me some idiotic question that has some preplanned answered from me, and all the other types of harassment I've mentioned before.
Fact is, neither side wants me to have my say. They always say, "That's someone else talking." And always a broad. How dumb. They were and still are abusive people and they are using the same tactics they used in 1967. They deliberately make me screw up, and try to train me by using the 'put on the dress and that won't happen' bait. Or, 'you are too violent as a man' has been thrown out there, too. Not happening. I can't be what I'm not, but they can replay the crap they forced on me years ago. They're trying to cover their abusive asses, and always say that I'm the one who needed to be covered up. Not at all.
Sister J seems to be used a lot. I'm guessing they rely on her to screw me up by saying trigger words while I'm working (screwing up my typing and such). I mentioned before about KS and when she put up her little finger and said, "I'm keeping that one for myself." At the time, I thought, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" It wasn't until I thought of sister T, and when she cut her little finger washing dishes (screamed like a banshee), did KS nod and put her hand down. Some associating there with transtesticlism, too.
Anyhow, I got to go to work soon and I'm sure it's going to be a lot of intrusive thoughts. X with hers trying to make me mess up work, and her denials, and bringing up a lot of misspeaks that makes it sound like I want her messing with me, which I don't. And the other assholes, F and Fatso, making me listen to conversations which involve other people at where I work, but the fact is, I don't carry on conversations with them for real, I don't know them.
I don't want any of those people in my life. X, my relatives, their friends, they are all just idiots trying to cover their asses by using real people. All they ever proved is that they can manipulate people, and it's easy to manipulate someone they've victimized before.
Werner K Stoebermann Werner Stoberman
Friday, November 2, 2012
Sunday, October 28, 2012
October 28, 2012 5:26pm
So I wake up this morning, afternoon really, because it's already late afternoon and of course the first thing I hear when I wake up is that fucking X woman. And of course she's pushing her favorite harassing tactic by giving me girly things just like she did when I was seven years old. Of course, he says, "Oh she is ET," and she hands me some earrings that I'm supposed to put on. And I call her a bitch and tell her that I know what she's doing, that she's just pushing that abuse that she started in 1967, which was to put a dress on me and parade me around claiming that I want to be a girl.
She started that shit in 1967, see previous post. Of course I bitch her out. And of course that harassing woman, the one who threatened me a couple years ago, is also there. And she claims and says that she is on X's side and says that they have sister T on their side along with sister J. And I really don't care because they are just a bunch of pieces of crap as far as I'm concerned. Then X start saying saying that I should tell who the original rapist was. As I always say, it's about their harassment and not about any one else.
Of course I want to leave, then along comes that obnoxious beady-headed bitch, the one who is always pushing her queer agenda on me, and starts in with her shit. I tell her to go to hell in no uncertain terms. It seems to me, that these people desperately need a transtesticle, little queer thing with a gun to its head because X and her cohorts are pushing this "he is suicidal because he wants to be a woman." thing. She is taking the abuse that she and my sister T heaped on me, and a suicidal thing at the store in 1985 and trying to make a connection between. The connection doesn't exist. I don't want to be a woman I never did. I know KS asked me at AN's house in 1985, if I had ever wanted to be a woman. I said no and she asked me a couple more times and after her badgering and saying, "Not even for a second?" I said yes. But I felt like that little six year old when I said yes. Anyway, there are previous posts on this.
X and her cohorts also have this thing about movie stars. I do remember when KS was taking pictures at AN's house and she showed me a picture of myself leaning in a doorway with a cigarette and ask me "Who are you when you do this?" I just laughed and thought of the name of an actress because it looked like a scene from a movie I saw. Also, when I came back to AN's house the first time I met KS, she told me, "Remember the second time you came through." I wondered what she meant and was thinking, it seemed to me that when I came in the door of the second time, coming back from buying some bought for AN and myself, that I was being silly or whatever they want to call it, and imitating some transtesticle thing I saw in a movie on TV.
X and her cohorts claimed that this actress, the cigarette smoking actress, is my alter ego. What a crock. As far as alter egos go, I've never really had one. I don't think there is anything close to any alter ego in me. There is a lot of associating certain things with certain people, like smoking, but those are far from being an alter ego. I know KS's profiling with her questions and answers makes me look like W1, W2, and MH, and they could twist that around into being multiple personalities if they wanted to.
That's the way it's been with waking up lately. I have to go through that X's shit every morning just so she can get me riled up and then she can complain and control things along with her cohorts. And then her fucking friends show up. There's this one guy, kind of short, who has been screaming at me for a long time. He seems to be the same person who I saw that day in the Navy, the one I saw in the bathroom who kept taking my hand with a gun in it and putting it up to my head and telling me to look in the mirror. And he's just running around with all these papers or whatever, and pushing his stupid agenda. This is either Fatso from 1985 or my Uncle J, who is friends with X. Don't like either one of them.
So I guess it is going to be the usual day today, having to listen to those people twist everything around and blame every one and anything else but themselves, and trying to turn all their abuse and rapes into just a queer head problem. But, like I've been saying/thinking, I won't have any part of it. I'm not going to help them turn their abuse into slander against me or even that community. This same community, that they claim I just have to join and that is their so called cure, their so called therapy.
They use those queers, I don't. I told those people off, the queers, 20 years ago and I don't think there is one of them there that are buying into their "he has to join them" agenda.
And this beady-headed woman is probably X's sister, OH. She is the one whose house we were at back in 1970 and when her son, who must've been about 9 and I was 10, said to me that his dick was getting hard, and I " took care of it" and got caught by OH. And then she called her sister X, who went through the usual abusive steps of giving me whiskey. When OH asked-- I don't know who mentioned the topic-- but it came around to who started it, who taught me that. And then X's husband said something to me like, "It was…" and then he motioned with his head for me to finish up the sentence. I must have known what he wanted but I wasn't saying it and X told me to say it. So I said the name of the girl who lived next door at the time.
I remember looking over at OH and she was, I don't know if she was drunk or if X gave her some sedative, but she looked out of it. And then she asked her sister if my mother knew. And then OH turned to my mother and said how sorry she was that was such a terrible thing, and I was just kind of laughing. Even today when I think of that, I just think that she was so gullible and I wonder if she still is to this day.
So, that's generally how it's been going for the past several months. I wake up and X starts in with her crap, the dress wearing abuse she starred in 1967, an her accomplices join in. Of course, they keep saying that they are helping me and insinuate that I just have to join that crowd and they are just helping me get over this queer stuff that they are trying to push as their therapy. Like I said, anything and everything that they ever did is not the issue, they claim it never happened, and they claim that they know better. They lie.
They always say they can prove different but it's their manipulation of facts and events that they show to people, as I believe they do. I remember back in 1986 when I joined the Navy and went to the induction place in Cleveland, and weird things happened, I walked into an elevator with some guy, I think it was that guy who is now pushing their lies, and he said to me, "You are going to hell." I said, "I know, but I don't know why."
He is also the one who said that his story is the only one that will come out. And from what I gather, what I've been piecing together the past few years, it centers around the time when KS asked me if I knew any cops. This was back in 1985 at AN's house and KS was playing question and answer.
This so called story that he wants to tell is total fabrication, actually a dangerous lie. When KS asked me if I knew any cops, I said that I did not. And then she was talking to someone next to her saying that I was lying and that other woman told her to ask me again. KS said, "Really?" And then I thought of that woman next door, the one who X and her husband pegged as the original rapist, she had ended up marrying a policeman.
So his story goes, if it is that guy or someone who is helping him, that I was snitching on the people who I bought a pot from. That I was some kind of go between for information. The fact is I would never even consider doing that. I do remember KS asking me what I would do if I ever got in trouble. I assume she was talking about reselling some pot to AN. I said I wasn't worried because at most I would get $100 fine because I don't carry or even ever possess any amount that would get me in more trouble than that. I said I would say nothing. And I said I would let other people speak for me. She said, "Oh, let other people speak for you."
But the more interesting thing is that someone asked me if I could point out his wife to the pot sellers, and I remember seeing her on a playground leaning over, and talking to some child. She became a school teacher. It looked like a photograph, not a real live event, and I pointed to her and said that is her. I think this was just contrived by those people themselves, that next door neighbor girl and her husband the cop, as an excuse to get in and starts screwing me over to shut me up. Not about any of his police work, but something that happened between my sister J and her way back.
I believe this because for a long time those two have said that I have to admit to helping them, and that I should put it in writing and just to agree with them that snitching is what I was doing, telling on pot sellers to him. I don't sign or agree with them at all. I tell them to get the hell out of my life and I'm not going to lie for them, or for anyone else for that matter. They are the ones who caused that episode at that store, McC's, in August of 1985. I do remember at that time they said that I was just a conduit, a go between. Then I was taking information from one side and giving it to the other side. Did not know at the time what the hell they were talking about.
AN was the only person who ever asked me what the pot seller's name was, and I never told her for five years until about May 1985, see previous post. Things could never have been like that guy claims because those pot sellers had me under the first time I met them. If I had agreed to what this guy says, about being a snitch, they would have known because it would've been on my mind and I'm sure they would find out because that's one of the reasons to put people under in the first place, and also to find out if the customer is a drinker or a hard drug user because they did not like that. What's more, this pot seller mentioned a long time before, that he knew cops and sheriffs. Why would he need to worry about anything?
So this guy and his wife, it seems to me, are using that as a cover as to why they had to screw me over. That her life was in danger from me pointing her out, they had to screw me over. It was really a matter of her personal life, not his job as an undercover cop, that they were interested in fucking me over for.
A thing between that woman and my sister J was something I sister J told me when she was 7 back in about 1972 was something personal. And I do remember these people, cop and wife, saying that I must have been peeping on that woman if I had known that. But I have never been in the upstairs to that house because that's where the bedrooms were. So as I gather, those two have a couple of idiotic stories about me. I was never a snitch for any one, until now I suppose, and nor was I a peeping Tom.
That's basically the rut that the voices have been in the past few months. Have X set up the whole fucking day with "You have to accept this women thing I'm pushing on you." She's the only one who needs that because she claims that when I went over to her house with my parents the day before I left for the Navy that I wanted her to help me get out of going. This is a lie. When I stood up to leave, I remember hearing her ask me, "Do you remember what we talked about?" I thought, "What? Dress up like a queer or something to get out of going? No. I'm not doing that, that's illegal. I'm not doing that." More information about this is in a previous post.
So, they constantly harass, call me girl names, and use the pronoun she when referring to me. It's totally ridiculous, and even had me C, as in copy, females. It used to be a bunch of drag queens that they kept showing me, and what I thought that no one would ever buy into that anyway, because it is just so blatantly ridiculous looking and there's nothing original about these copies, they showed me that woman who showed up a couple of years ago and said well there is an original one to copy. How ridiculous of them.
A few weeks ago, I remember X saying how I never did anything for her and that I should just put on the dress just one time for her. Not happening. Even when I was peeing, I heard her voice saying, "Why don't you sit down to pee?" She even thinks I should sit down to pee for her. She just needs an imprint she can wake up later on when she's putting on her dog and pony shows for the public, or God forbid a shrink or anybody like that.
I'm hearing right now that woman who is pushing her queer agenda on me saying, "Let me tell you something." I don't need her to tell me a damn thing. Like I've said for decades they should leave me alone, I'm not buying into their crap, and there is no way that I would let them do this to me at all. That one woman always claims that she got permission from me at the store in 1985 when she said, "Can I hypnotize you?" And gave me something to drink. I'd mention this before, that she could play that over and over without my even knowing it and get away with all of her harassment and crap by claiming I let her do it.
Not much going on otherwise. Just working and listening to those fools.
So I wake up this morning, afternoon really, because it's already late afternoon and of course the first thing I hear when I wake up is that fucking X woman. And of course she's pushing her favorite harassing tactic by giving me girly things just like she did when I was seven years old. Of course, he says, "Oh she is ET," and she hands me some earrings that I'm supposed to put on. And I call her a bitch and tell her that I know what she's doing, that she's just pushing that abuse that she started in 1967, which was to put a dress on me and parade me around claiming that I want to be a girl.
She started that shit in 1967, see previous post. Of course I bitch her out. And of course that harassing woman, the one who threatened me a couple years ago, is also there. And she claims and says that she is on X's side and says that they have sister T on their side along with sister J. And I really don't care because they are just a bunch of pieces of crap as far as I'm concerned. Then X start saying saying that I should tell who the original rapist was. As I always say, it's about their harassment and not about any one else.
Of course I want to leave, then along comes that obnoxious beady-headed bitch, the one who is always pushing her queer agenda on me, and starts in with her shit. I tell her to go to hell in no uncertain terms. It seems to me, that these people desperately need a transtesticle, little queer thing with a gun to its head because X and her cohorts are pushing this "he is suicidal because he wants to be a woman." thing. She is taking the abuse that she and my sister T heaped on me, and a suicidal thing at the store in 1985 and trying to make a connection between. The connection doesn't exist. I don't want to be a woman I never did. I know KS asked me at AN's house in 1985, if I had ever wanted to be a woman. I said no and she asked me a couple more times and after her badgering and saying, "Not even for a second?" I said yes. But I felt like that little six year old when I said yes. Anyway, there are previous posts on this.
X and her cohorts also have this thing about movie stars. I do remember when KS was taking pictures at AN's house and she showed me a picture of myself leaning in a doorway with a cigarette and ask me "Who are you when you do this?" I just laughed and thought of the name of an actress because it looked like a scene from a movie I saw. Also, when I came back to AN's house the first time I met KS, she told me, "Remember the second time you came through." I wondered what she meant and was thinking, it seemed to me that when I came in the door of the second time, coming back from buying some bought for AN and myself, that I was being silly or whatever they want to call it, and imitating some transtesticle thing I saw in a movie on TV.
X and her cohorts claimed that this actress, the cigarette smoking actress, is my alter ego. What a crock. As far as alter egos go, I've never really had one. I don't think there is anything close to any alter ego in me. There is a lot of associating certain things with certain people, like smoking, but those are far from being an alter ego. I know KS's profiling with her questions and answers makes me look like W1, W2, and MH, and they could twist that around into being multiple personalities if they wanted to.
That's the way it's been with waking up lately. I have to go through that X's shit every morning just so she can get me riled up and then she can complain and control things along with her cohorts. And then her fucking friends show up. There's this one guy, kind of short, who has been screaming at me for a long time. He seems to be the same person who I saw that day in the Navy, the one I saw in the bathroom who kept taking my hand with a gun in it and putting it up to my head and telling me to look in the mirror. And he's just running around with all these papers or whatever, and pushing his stupid agenda. This is either Fatso from 1985 or my Uncle J, who is friends with X. Don't like either one of them.
So I guess it is going to be the usual day today, having to listen to those people twist everything around and blame every one and anything else but themselves, and trying to turn all their abuse and rapes into just a queer head problem. But, like I've been saying/thinking, I won't have any part of it. I'm not going to help them turn their abuse into slander against me or even that community. This same community, that they claim I just have to join and that is their so called cure, their so called therapy.
They use those queers, I don't. I told those people off, the queers, 20 years ago and I don't think there is one of them there that are buying into their "he has to join them" agenda.
And this beady-headed woman is probably X's sister, OH. She is the one whose house we were at back in 1970 and when her son, who must've been about 9 and I was 10, said to me that his dick was getting hard, and I " took care of it" and got caught by OH. And then she called her sister X, who went through the usual abusive steps of giving me whiskey. When OH asked-- I don't know who mentioned the topic-- but it came around to who started it, who taught me that. And then X's husband said something to me like, "It was…" and then he motioned with his head for me to finish up the sentence. I must have known what he wanted but I wasn't saying it and X told me to say it. So I said the name of the girl who lived next door at the time.
I remember looking over at OH and she was, I don't know if she was drunk or if X gave her some sedative, but she looked out of it. And then she asked her sister if my mother knew. And then OH turned to my mother and said how sorry she was that was such a terrible thing, and I was just kind of laughing. Even today when I think of that, I just think that she was so gullible and I wonder if she still is to this day.
So, that's generally how it's been going for the past several months. I wake up and X starts in with her crap, the dress wearing abuse she starred in 1967, an her accomplices join in. Of course, they keep saying that they are helping me and insinuate that I just have to join that crowd and they are just helping me get over this queer stuff that they are trying to push as their therapy. Like I said, anything and everything that they ever did is not the issue, they claim it never happened, and they claim that they know better. They lie.
They always say they can prove different but it's their manipulation of facts and events that they show to people, as I believe they do. I remember back in 1986 when I joined the Navy and went to the induction place in Cleveland, and weird things happened, I walked into an elevator with some guy, I think it was that guy who is now pushing their lies, and he said to me, "You are going to hell." I said, "I know, but I don't know why."
He is also the one who said that his story is the only one that will come out. And from what I gather, what I've been piecing together the past few years, it centers around the time when KS asked me if I knew any cops. This was back in 1985 at AN's house and KS was playing question and answer.
This so called story that he wants to tell is total fabrication, actually a dangerous lie. When KS asked me if I knew any cops, I said that I did not. And then she was talking to someone next to her saying that I was lying and that other woman told her to ask me again. KS said, "Really?" And then I thought of that woman next door, the one who X and her husband pegged as the original rapist, she had ended up marrying a policeman.
So his story goes, if it is that guy or someone who is helping him, that I was snitching on the people who I bought a pot from. That I was some kind of go between for information. The fact is I would never even consider doing that. I do remember KS asking me what I would do if I ever got in trouble. I assume she was talking about reselling some pot to AN. I said I wasn't worried because at most I would get $100 fine because I don't carry or even ever possess any amount that would get me in more trouble than that. I said I would say nothing. And I said I would let other people speak for me. She said, "Oh, let other people speak for you."
But the more interesting thing is that someone asked me if I could point out his wife to the pot sellers, and I remember seeing her on a playground leaning over, and talking to some child. She became a school teacher. It looked like a photograph, not a real live event, and I pointed to her and said that is her. I think this was just contrived by those people themselves, that next door neighbor girl and her husband the cop, as an excuse to get in and starts screwing me over to shut me up. Not about any of his police work, but something that happened between my sister J and her way back.
I believe this because for a long time those two have said that I have to admit to helping them, and that I should put it in writing and just to agree with them that snitching is what I was doing, telling on pot sellers to him. I don't sign or agree with them at all. I tell them to get the hell out of my life and I'm not going to lie for them, or for anyone else for that matter. They are the ones who caused that episode at that store, McC's, in August of 1985. I do remember at that time they said that I was just a conduit, a go between. Then I was taking information from one side and giving it to the other side. Did not know at the time what the hell they were talking about.
AN was the only person who ever asked me what the pot seller's name was, and I never told her for five years until about May 1985, see previous post. Things could never have been like that guy claims because those pot sellers had me under the first time I met them. If I had agreed to what this guy says, about being a snitch, they would have known because it would've been on my mind and I'm sure they would find out because that's one of the reasons to put people under in the first place, and also to find out if the customer is a drinker or a hard drug user because they did not like that. What's more, this pot seller mentioned a long time before, that he knew cops and sheriffs. Why would he need to worry about anything?
So this guy and his wife, it seems to me, are using that as a cover as to why they had to screw me over. That her life was in danger from me pointing her out, they had to screw me over. It was really a matter of her personal life, not his job as an undercover cop, that they were interested in fucking me over for.
A thing between that woman and my sister J was something I sister J told me when she was 7 back in about 1972 was something personal. And I do remember these people, cop and wife, saying that I must have been peeping on that woman if I had known that. But I have never been in the upstairs to that house because that's where the bedrooms were. So as I gather, those two have a couple of idiotic stories about me. I was never a snitch for any one, until now I suppose, and nor was I a peeping Tom.
That's basically the rut that the voices have been in the past few months. Have X set up the whole fucking day with "You have to accept this women thing I'm pushing on you." She's the only one who needs that because she claims that when I went over to her house with my parents the day before I left for the Navy that I wanted her to help me get out of going. This is a lie. When I stood up to leave, I remember hearing her ask me, "Do you remember what we talked about?" I thought, "What? Dress up like a queer or something to get out of going? No. I'm not doing that, that's illegal. I'm not doing that." More information about this is in a previous post.
So, they constantly harass, call me girl names, and use the pronoun she when referring to me. It's totally ridiculous, and even had me C, as in copy, females. It used to be a bunch of drag queens that they kept showing me, and what I thought that no one would ever buy into that anyway, because it is just so blatantly ridiculous looking and there's nothing original about these copies, they showed me that woman who showed up a couple of years ago and said well there is an original one to copy. How ridiculous of them.
A few weeks ago, I remember X saying how I never did anything for her and that I should just put on the dress just one time for her. Not happening. Even when I was peeing, I heard her voice saying, "Why don't you sit down to pee?" She even thinks I should sit down to pee for her. She just needs an imprint she can wake up later on when she's putting on her dog and pony shows for the public, or God forbid a shrink or anybody like that.
I'm hearing right now that woman who is pushing her queer agenda on me saying, "Let me tell you something." I don't need her to tell me a damn thing. Like I've said for decades they should leave me alone, I'm not buying into their crap, and there is no way that I would let them do this to me at all. That one woman always claims that she got permission from me at the store in 1985 when she said, "Can I hypnotize you?" And gave me something to drink. I'd mention this before, that she could play that over and over without my even knowing it and get away with all of her harassment and crap by claiming I let her do it.
Not much going on otherwise. Just working and listening to those fools.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
A Forum Post
Thursday, October 4, 2012 2:16 pm DST
Another post from a forum post about flashbacks and what's real and what's not.
I have no trouble distinguishing between what's real and what's not. I got a lot of abuse of various kinds by relatives and their ex-friends, mainly between the ages of 7 to 10. I never forgot it nor the abuse heaped on me to cover it up. Things like training other little kids to call me a liar even though I never had said anything about it. They made me watch some guy beat his daughter with a belt to keep her quiet and then ask me if I wanted that to happen to me. Later, I heard that girl's mother tell my mom that they kept her daughter home from school because of the whooping cough, but that woman said to me, "You don't want that to happen to you, do you? You don't want the whipping cough, do you?" I knew what she meant even though I was only nine. She's a real piece of work, that woman is.
You mentioned the first grade. That reminds of their favorite cover-up game. It was "get him drunk and throw his sister's dress on him and parade him around teachers or whoever and dare them to take the word of a drunk cross dressing 7 year old." I remember that clearly because the teacher told that woman and my mother, "We don't believe your story. It sounds fishy." I interrupted and asked what "fishy" meant and the teacher basically had to explain to me that she thought they were liars, and right in front of them, too. That teacher turned out to be my fourth grade teacher also, and I remember she told me that she took over the fourth grade just for me. I didn't get it back then, but I did years later. I'm betting that she's one of the few people who stared them down back then.
As late as 1986 that woman's grown son came into some gas station I worked at and handed a coworker a note for the coworker to ask me what nationality I was, and then he answered before I could. Also, there was a woman who came into the station and said, "Someone told me to come in here and call you (nickname)." Then she just looked at me. I said, "I think somebody has their head up their ass." That nickname she mentioned was what that abusive woman's family called me back then. It's was all on recording security cameras in the station. Basically, people I didn't know were bringing up things I didn't like to talk about and it's not a coinidence that the woman's son would be involved in doing that. He was only about 3 or so during the peak abusive years and most likely doesn't remember (his dad pulled a clump of hair out of his head before beating his daughter).
So it isn't a question of recovered memories or anything like that because I could have told everything about those days when they first happened. My parents stayed friends with those abusers for a very long time afterwards. After the sz in 1985, the voices I have are counterparts to those abusers and witnesses. And basically, it's them telling me things like, "You're never going to be complete until you try to kill yourself for real." Or, "You're not competent enough to tell the story of your life." Basically, the voices claim that they have rewritten everything I would want to say about those days, and no one will believe me since they already got me to agree to their lies and they have played it out in public without my realizing it.
How do I cope? I wrote it all out in a journal/blog. Everything I could remember about my life. It took over a year to do and it wasn't that hard at all. No matter how much the voices want to put me on the defensive about everything, I'm not a criminal and I don't feel like one, either.
Anyway, your question was about flashbacks, and no, I don't have any. I have auditory hallucinations that are a rehash of the truth and listening to them lie about me and the past. It's easy for me to dismiss the ridiculousness. As for sz episodes, I've learned that what you remember at the time is just about all you're going to remember. Filling in the blanks of an episode is a waste of time, for me anyway.
Like you say in your profile, "It is what it is." And the past is what it was. No changing that.
Another post from a forum post about flashbacks and what's real and what's not.
I have no trouble distinguishing between what's real and what's not. I got a lot of abuse of various kinds by relatives and their ex-friends, mainly between the ages of 7 to 10. I never forgot it nor the abuse heaped on me to cover it up. Things like training other little kids to call me a liar even though I never had said anything about it. They made me watch some guy beat his daughter with a belt to keep her quiet and then ask me if I wanted that to happen to me. Later, I heard that girl's mother tell my mom that they kept her daughter home from school because of the whooping cough, but that woman said to me, "You don't want that to happen to you, do you? You don't want the whipping cough, do you?" I knew what she meant even though I was only nine. She's a real piece of work, that woman is.
You mentioned the first grade. That reminds of their favorite cover-up game. It was "get him drunk and throw his sister's dress on him and parade him around teachers or whoever and dare them to take the word of a drunk cross dressing 7 year old." I remember that clearly because the teacher told that woman and my mother, "We don't believe your story. It sounds fishy." I interrupted and asked what "fishy" meant and the teacher basically had to explain to me that she thought they were liars, and right in front of them, too. That teacher turned out to be my fourth grade teacher also, and I remember she told me that she took over the fourth grade just for me. I didn't get it back then, but I did years later. I'm betting that she's one of the few people who stared them down back then.
As late as 1986 that woman's grown son came into some gas station I worked at and handed a coworker a note for the coworker to ask me what nationality I was, and then he answered before I could. Also, there was a woman who came into the station and said, "Someone told me to come in here and call you (nickname)." Then she just looked at me. I said, "I think somebody has their head up their ass." That nickname she mentioned was what that abusive woman's family called me back then. It's was all on recording security cameras in the station. Basically, people I didn't know were bringing up things I didn't like to talk about and it's not a coinidence that the woman's son would be involved in doing that. He was only about 3 or so during the peak abusive years and most likely doesn't remember (his dad pulled a clump of hair out of his head before beating his daughter).
So it isn't a question of recovered memories or anything like that because I could have told everything about those days when they first happened. My parents stayed friends with those abusers for a very long time afterwards. After the sz in 1985, the voices I have are counterparts to those abusers and witnesses. And basically, it's them telling me things like, "You're never going to be complete until you try to kill yourself for real." Or, "You're not competent enough to tell the story of your life." Basically, the voices claim that they have rewritten everything I would want to say about those days, and no one will believe me since they already got me to agree to their lies and they have played it out in public without my realizing it.
How do I cope? I wrote it all out in a journal/blog. Everything I could remember about my life. It took over a year to do and it wasn't that hard at all. No matter how much the voices want to put me on the defensive about everything, I'm not a criminal and I don't feel like one, either.
Anyway, your question was about flashbacks, and no, I don't have any. I have auditory hallucinations that are a rehash of the truth and listening to them lie about me and the past. It's easy for me to dismiss the ridiculousness. As for sz episodes, I've learned that what you remember at the time is just about all you're going to remember. Filling in the blanks of an episode is a waste of time, for me anyway.
Like you say in your profile, "It is what it is." And the past is what it was. No changing that.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Take the Lot and You'll Need a Plot 3
August 14, 2012 8:39 am EDT
Werner K Stoebermann
So, I ended up in my mother's chair in the living room. My mom was in the middle of the room, looking at something on the couch. There was someone else with her, it was most likely X, the rapist. She was forcing my mom to say something. Eventually, my mom said, "Who would want to do this to a baby?" I pulled something off my head, I might have had a sheet over my head, and said, "I do." I didn't even know why I said that.
Then X came running out of the kitchen, I think she was using the phone, came up to me and said, "That's the last time you see that face." I guess she was referring to my face. I don't know who she called, but I heard someone say, "We never told him." I think they were referring to me. What it meant, I don't know.
I was still sitting in the chair, and there was somebody in the doorway a little bit behind me and on my left side. I didn't know who it was until he moved. At first he stood still, then he took a step forward and stopped, as if he were prompted. Then I recognized him as FF, X's son. He looked at me and shook his head. Then a taller guy came up behind him and started pulling him back. It was FF's brother, KF. They must have left, because I didn't see them later. FF must have been the guy upstairs in the bedroom.
I looked across from me, in a corner of the room, and saw X's sister, OH. I thought to myself, "What are they doing here?" Then I thought about what happened at her house in 1970 and I thought, "Oh, yeah. That."
I looked over at the couch and my sister J was holding the baby, telling him to wake up. Some overweight woman was sitting next to her, crying. Some skinny woman in black was standing next to J and asked her, "Would you ever hurt the baby?" J said, "No." Then the lady asked her, "Even if you knew you could get away with it?" J said, "Well..." Then the lady cut her off and started walking to the kitchen. Shaking her head, she said, "I don't know. I know people who could cover this up. But this..." and she motioned with her arm to the couch, "...I don't know."
The next thing I remember was standing next to my mom's usual chair. She was sitting there, cringing. That overweight woman from upstairs held my arm and I heard someone say, "See MS." MS is an aunt, since deceased. I looked and knew it was my mother, and thought, "No. That's not MS, and I know what you're trying to do. If I say she's MS, then that means you're trying to get me to say that I'm W." W is a MS's son, my cousin, who has the same name as I do.
Then I saw X's husband raping my mom, forcing his dick into her mouth.
Eventually, there was no one left in the room except for me, sister J, and my aunt and uncle, J&H, who were standing in the middle of the room.
I must have went or was taken back upstairs. I heard Fatso say, "You better tell (or show) him he's still alive." I went downstairs and some woman with a toddler was walking towards the front door. I bent over the toddler and said, "Thank God you're alive. I would kill myself if something happened to you." Then I stood up and thought, "I've never thought like that before." And I noticed that it was not my sister J's baby. And I started to look at the woman who was with this toddler and asking, "Who is this?" Some female voice said, "CC." CC is X's daughter.
Earlier, I had seen CC in the living room, don't know if it was before, during, or after the other living room stuff. I was sitting in a chair by the kitchen. X said, "This is CC," and CC said, "And this is my son, ___." I didn't look at CC's face, but saw the lower part of her body, barely glanced at the toddler, and didn't see XX at all, but heard her. Anyway, I was very unimpressed. Bored, really. I didn't question why they were there. I haven't seen CC since about 1973, when her mother called her out as having mental problems in front of everyone. That was all there was about that.
So I guess it was time for someone to wake me up for real. I heard my mother yelling from the bottom of the stairs, "W wake up JS (pounding on the stairs) is dead." I remember laughing like a crazy person, thinking "Just like they told me it would." Then there was a pause, and I thought, "Now I'm No. 1 again." But it felt like is was sister G. (This most likely must have been the first time I "felt" like someone else). Anyway, I got out of bed and noticed that I was fully dressed. I don't sleep fully dressed, thought it was weird, but thought to myself, "I don't have time for this."
I went downstairs, didn't know what to say, and within minutes, a friend of my mom's who lives nearby came over and I went back upstairs.
I called KS and told her that the baby was dead. She gasped and said, "So......something happened." She was sort of emphasizing the "something happened." Strange that I had said those words just minutes earlier. I told her that I think I did it, and even said she did it. The conversation just faded and I don't know what, if anything, else was said.
That was basically it. Other than there was some guy who looked like Fatso sitting across the street, directly in line with the front door to the house. That was strange.
Two months later, August 1985, when that episode at the store, McC's was going on, Fatso asked me something about a wish or what did I want. I said that I wanted to see JS one more time. Then I looked across the counter and there was a toddler there. I didn't think it was JS, but I said something like, "What a cute baby." And handed him a long pretzel. A few minutes later, I walked around the counter, saw the pretzel on the floor and said, "Who threw this pretzel on the floor." The cashier I was working with said, "You did." I didn't answer. Weird things went on anyway.
Also in that episode, when some lady, I think it was F, said, "He can't talk and he doesn't know why." So I heard that and wondered how to get out of it. I started tapping on the counter with a quarter, I think, and I was trying to say, "Call me JS (dead nephew's name)." For some reason, I remembered what my mom said, "W, wake up JS (pound) is dead." Taking the pounding sound as a period, it literally is, "W, wake up JS." and inserting an "as", it becomes, "W, wake up as JS." Bizarre, but with all the talk of waking up, and as KS said, "So, you'll let other people speak for you." Who knows, it just worked out that way, but mostly it was scripted anyway. I don't know how tapping on the counter would let those people know what I was thinking. But anyway, someone might have called me JS, and I remember thinking, "Finally," meaning, now I can talk.
Years later, I remember it was sister J's birthday and I was laying in bed or somewhere and she said she wanted to talk to me, and they probably showed her that calling me JS was a way to get me to talk.
Then there was the funeral. I had said to sister J, while she was talking on the phone, "He's still alive isn't he?" She just looked at me, and said into the phone, "You know that cover we bought for JS's grave? It blew away. It's all gone." I didn't know who she was talking to. She told me that everybody says that I didn't have to go to the funeral if I didn't want to. I really didn't, but I thought of all the times that I heard, "We're going to hang you and say you killed yourself." I did not want to be alone in the house.
So, what does this all mean in context of the crap of over a year of harassment?
Werner K Stoebermann
So, I ended up in my mother's chair in the living room. My mom was in the middle of the room, looking at something on the couch. There was someone else with her, it was most likely X, the rapist. She was forcing my mom to say something. Eventually, my mom said, "Who would want to do this to a baby?" I pulled something off my head, I might have had a sheet over my head, and said, "I do." I didn't even know why I said that.
Then X came running out of the kitchen, I think she was using the phone, came up to me and said, "That's the last time you see that face." I guess she was referring to my face. I don't know who she called, but I heard someone say, "We never told him." I think they were referring to me. What it meant, I don't know.
I was still sitting in the chair, and there was somebody in the doorway a little bit behind me and on my left side. I didn't know who it was until he moved. At first he stood still, then he took a step forward and stopped, as if he were prompted. Then I recognized him as FF, X's son. He looked at me and shook his head. Then a taller guy came up behind him and started pulling him back. It was FF's brother, KF. They must have left, because I didn't see them later. FF must have been the guy upstairs in the bedroom.
I looked across from me, in a corner of the room, and saw X's sister, OH. I thought to myself, "What are they doing here?" Then I thought about what happened at her house in 1970 and I thought, "Oh, yeah. That."
I looked over at the couch and my sister J was holding the baby, telling him to wake up. Some overweight woman was sitting next to her, crying. Some skinny woman in black was standing next to J and asked her, "Would you ever hurt the baby?" J said, "No." Then the lady asked her, "Even if you knew you could get away with it?" J said, "Well..." Then the lady cut her off and started walking to the kitchen. Shaking her head, she said, "I don't know. I know people who could cover this up. But this..." and she motioned with her arm to the couch, "...I don't know."
The next thing I remember was standing next to my mom's usual chair. She was sitting there, cringing. That overweight woman from upstairs held my arm and I heard someone say, "See MS." MS is an aunt, since deceased. I looked and knew it was my mother, and thought, "No. That's not MS, and I know what you're trying to do. If I say she's MS, then that means you're trying to get me to say that I'm W." W is a MS's son, my cousin, who has the same name as I do.
Then I saw X's husband raping my mom, forcing his dick into her mouth.
Eventually, there was no one left in the room except for me, sister J, and my aunt and uncle, J&H, who were standing in the middle of the room.
I must have went or was taken back upstairs. I heard Fatso say, "You better tell (or show) him he's still alive." I went downstairs and some woman with a toddler was walking towards the front door. I bent over the toddler and said, "Thank God you're alive. I would kill myself if something happened to you." Then I stood up and thought, "I've never thought like that before." And I noticed that it was not my sister J's baby. And I started to look at the woman who was with this toddler and asking, "Who is this?" Some female voice said, "CC." CC is X's daughter.
Earlier, I had seen CC in the living room, don't know if it was before, during, or after the other living room stuff. I was sitting in a chair by the kitchen. X said, "This is CC," and CC said, "And this is my son, ___." I didn't look at CC's face, but saw the lower part of her body, barely glanced at the toddler, and didn't see XX at all, but heard her. Anyway, I was very unimpressed. Bored, really. I didn't question why they were there. I haven't seen CC since about 1973, when her mother called her out as having mental problems in front of everyone. That was all there was about that.
So I guess it was time for someone to wake me up for real. I heard my mother yelling from the bottom of the stairs, "W wake up JS (pounding on the stairs) is dead." I remember laughing like a crazy person, thinking "Just like they told me it would." Then there was a pause, and I thought, "Now I'm No. 1 again." But it felt like is was sister G. (This most likely must have been the first time I "felt" like someone else). Anyway, I got out of bed and noticed that I was fully dressed. I don't sleep fully dressed, thought it was weird, but thought to myself, "I don't have time for this."
I went downstairs, didn't know what to say, and within minutes, a friend of my mom's who lives nearby came over and I went back upstairs.
I called KS and told her that the baby was dead. She gasped and said, "So......something happened." She was sort of emphasizing the "something happened." Strange that I had said those words just minutes earlier. I told her that I think I did it, and even said she did it. The conversation just faded and I don't know what, if anything, else was said.
That was basically it. Other than there was some guy who looked like Fatso sitting across the street, directly in line with the front door to the house. That was strange.
Two months later, August 1985, when that episode at the store, McC's was going on, Fatso asked me something about a wish or what did I want. I said that I wanted to see JS one more time. Then I looked across the counter and there was a toddler there. I didn't think it was JS, but I said something like, "What a cute baby." And handed him a long pretzel. A few minutes later, I walked around the counter, saw the pretzel on the floor and said, "Who threw this pretzel on the floor." The cashier I was working with said, "You did." I didn't answer. Weird things went on anyway.
Also in that episode, when some lady, I think it was F, said, "He can't talk and he doesn't know why." So I heard that and wondered how to get out of it. I started tapping on the counter with a quarter, I think, and I was trying to say, "Call me JS (dead nephew's name)." For some reason, I remembered what my mom said, "W, wake up JS (pound) is dead." Taking the pounding sound as a period, it literally is, "W, wake up JS." and inserting an "as", it becomes, "W, wake up as JS." Bizarre, but with all the talk of waking up, and as KS said, "So, you'll let other people speak for you." Who knows, it just worked out that way, but mostly it was scripted anyway. I don't know how tapping on the counter would let those people know what I was thinking. But anyway, someone might have called me JS, and I remember thinking, "Finally," meaning, now I can talk.
Years later, I remember it was sister J's birthday and I was laying in bed or somewhere and she said she wanted to talk to me, and they probably showed her that calling me JS was a way to get me to talk.
Then there was the funeral. I had said to sister J, while she was talking on the phone, "He's still alive isn't he?" She just looked at me, and said into the phone, "You know that cover we bought for JS's grave? It blew away. It's all gone." I didn't know who she was talking to. She told me that everybody says that I didn't have to go to the funeral if I didn't want to. I really didn't, but I thought of all the times that I heard, "We're going to hang you and say you killed yourself." I did not want to be alone in the house.
So, what does this all mean in context of the crap of over a year of harassment?
Friday, July 6, 2012
Take the Lot and You'll Need a Plot 2
July 6, 2012 12:56 PM
Werner K. Stoebermann Bursche
So, it was late May, 1985. I heard the pot seller say to me, "Take the lot, and you'll need a plot. It will never learn how to talk. Now wake up, _________." He told me to wake up, mispronouncing my name a little. As he said this, I saw a picture of my sister's baby. The connection was supposed to be that if my parents bought this neighboring lot, my sister's baby would die. I told the pot seller that, "I am awake. What do you mean?" He looked pissed that I knew what he said in real time, and pointed to the door without saying anything.
I'm sure that the piece of paper KS gave me to read before this was the Lot,Plot thing. She didn't want to read it to me because it clearly was a threat, because that paper began with the German thing (choose which kid to die and which to let live) and I stopped reading it and told KS that I wanted nothing to do with whatever they were planning. I left.
Other people who knew about this Lot,Plot thing was the pot seller, X, and KS. What sense did the connection make? None, really. It was just a head game and I brushed it off. I had already been harassed for almost 10 months and was told to shut up many times, so why should I start talking about such a weird thing?
As I wrote before, three days went by and I had this going through my mind, so anyone who could read me would have known about it. Monday June 3, 1985 was when my mom and my sister were going to buy the lot, and I made sure the baby was staying with his mother and out of this house. Nothing was going to happen.
That Monday, I didn't hear my mom leave, I was sleeping. I remember talking to KS (or, so I think it was her) on the phone and she was saying, "There are people in your house. You can't see them, but they're there and they have guns. Do what they say." I told her to hold on, put down the phone, and went to my bedroom door. I was thinking she was talking about the police. I wasn't afraid of police. I told KS that if I wasn't back in five minutes, she should call the police.
Fatso was there in my room and pointed to my parent's bedroom, where the crib for the baby was when he stayed the night, or nights. I went there. And the baby was there in the crib and I woke him up as I usually did and laid down on the bed. I held him over my head, put him on the bed beside me, and after about 10 or 15 minutes, I put him on my lap. It felt weird. It reminded me of the time I had a hard on with that toddler 12 years before.
Some lady said, "There you go. That's no so bad, is it?" I had no idea at that time who it was, but she had a snide tone about her. I guess I blacked out, fell asleep or whatever. The next thing I know, she said, "He's not pulling his pants down." Then another woman, it sounded like my sister J, the baby's mother, said, "Oh, I'll do it." Meaning she'll pull my pants down. I was probably freaking out by then. What were they trying to do?
A little blackout minutes and the first woman said that I wasn't getting an erection, she sounded pissed, and told some other people there to give, or show, me "some encouragement." I looked at the wall directly at the foot of the bed and saw just a bit of pants. I was out again.
Again I woke up, in the same place, not even thinking about the baby or those people who were there, and I reached over to my father's nightstand by the bed. I was reaching for the drawer, there was a porno photo there. Some guy was there, not Fatso, who must have opened the drawer and found the picture and said to the woman, "Look what I found."
As he said this, I must have opened my eyes while I turned towards the man's voice. He was standing by the nightstand, and as I turned I saw the woman kneeling on the floor next to the bed, and she looked over at the man, too. I looked her full in the face, then as she turned her head away from the man, I looked at her again, and she looked at me and mouthed the words, or said, "See JL." The name she mentioned was the pot seller's wife. I didn't think anything of it then, and I didn't see her as JL, I just went out again.
The next thing I know was that I heard my mom's voice saying, "_____, look at what you're doing." I probably went out again, because that woman started yelling at me, "What did she say to you?" I didn't answer her. I'm assuming that my mom said something in German and that woman didn't understand why I looked again before I fell asleep. So, that woman started screaming at some people near the door of the room or on the other side of the door, "She fucked it up. Get that bitch up here."
I heard a lot of thumping on the stairs, and then heard three knocks on the door, and my mom said, "______, fuck the baby." I must have freaked out. Didn't even know where the baby was. I actually thought of fornication, not fuck as in kill. So I went out again.
Then I woke up again and the guy by the nightstand, who had the picture, said to the lady, "Why are you doing that? You already got..." She said, "He saw my face." She was referring to when I saw her and she said for me to see JL instead of her. I didn't know what the guy was referring to when he asked her why she was doing something.
I couldn't see. The woman said, "Let him see his hands," and the guy must have been blocking my view with something, because it seemed like he lifted something up and away from my face, and all I saw was the baby's face. I didn't see any hands. The baby's face was red, and he looked like he was about to cry. I didn't hear anything. Then I didn't see anything again.
The woman said, "Let him see her hands." Again, the guy lifted something that was blocking my view, and I saw a woman's hand, coming from behind the baby, but I didn't see the baby, and the hand reminded me of KS's hand. Then I was out again.
The woman said, "Let him see his face." Again, I saw the baby's face and he was smiling. Then I was out.
Without being prompted, I looked over at the woman kneeling at the side of the bed. she had her head turned all the way to her right and looking upwards. I looked towards where she was looking and I didn't see anything. It seemed like the guy who was there was holding something she was looking at. Her right arm obscured part of her face, she was reaching to her left while looking towards her right. i saw half of her face. She was a heavy set woman. I call her the Fat Faced Lady.
This lasted longer than any other time I was awake and heard/saw what was going on. It was quiet until the guy said, "Watch the bruising." I didn't think anything of it.
The next thing I knew FatFacedLady was holding the baby and dragging him up and down my side as I laid on the bed and she was screaming, "Look at what you did. He's dead." She did that over and over and laughing at me while I was freaking out. Then she alternated between, "He's dead," and, "He's alive." Still dragging whatever up and down my side. She was laughing and screaming. This went on a long time.
Someone started to take pictures, or flashing a light, while I was posing with this dead (?) baby. Holding him in my lap, I remember looking to my right while I was sitting at the edge of the bed. Flash of light. Then I looked down and thought to myself, "He looks dead." Another flash of light was when I thought the baby was hanging by my father's tie from the doorknob of the closet with me and the pot seller in the shot and I was pointing to the baby and smiling.
I do remember seeing two people very clearly in that room. One was the pot seller and the other was KS. If they were there at all, it was after it was over and it was time to freak me out. It was as if I were looking at still shots of them there. The shot of the pot seller was as if he had just walked into the room and the shot mentioned above about the hanging. The shot of KS was while she said, "What have we here?" as she touched the crib rails. I didn't see them otherwise at that time.
I walked back into my room. I picked up the phone, said something to KS, and hung up. Fatso was pissed, picked up the phone to see if there was still a connection. There wasn't and asked who was on the phone. I didn't answer, but I called her again and he spoke to her. He was pissed and I wasn't hearing what he was saying. Fatso hung up after a few seconds.
The next thing I remember was being downstairs, sitting in my mother's usual chair.
Next: Take the Lot and You'll Need a Plot 3.
Werner K. Stoebermann Bursche
So, it was late May, 1985. I heard the pot seller say to me, "Take the lot, and you'll need a plot. It will never learn how to talk. Now wake up, _________." He told me to wake up, mispronouncing my name a little. As he said this, I saw a picture of my sister's baby. The connection was supposed to be that if my parents bought this neighboring lot, my sister's baby would die. I told the pot seller that, "I am awake. What do you mean?" He looked pissed that I knew what he said in real time, and pointed to the door without saying anything.
I'm sure that the piece of paper KS gave me to read before this was the Lot,Plot thing. She didn't want to read it to me because it clearly was a threat, because that paper began with the German thing (choose which kid to die and which to let live) and I stopped reading it and told KS that I wanted nothing to do with whatever they were planning. I left.
Other people who knew about this Lot,Plot thing was the pot seller, X, and KS. What sense did the connection make? None, really. It was just a head game and I brushed it off. I had already been harassed for almost 10 months and was told to shut up many times, so why should I start talking about such a weird thing?
As I wrote before, three days went by and I had this going through my mind, so anyone who could read me would have known about it. Monday June 3, 1985 was when my mom and my sister were going to buy the lot, and I made sure the baby was staying with his mother and out of this house. Nothing was going to happen.
That Monday, I didn't hear my mom leave, I was sleeping. I remember talking to KS (or, so I think it was her) on the phone and she was saying, "There are people in your house. You can't see them, but they're there and they have guns. Do what they say." I told her to hold on, put down the phone, and went to my bedroom door. I was thinking she was talking about the police. I wasn't afraid of police. I told KS that if I wasn't back in five minutes, she should call the police.
Fatso was there in my room and pointed to my parent's bedroom, where the crib for the baby was when he stayed the night, or nights. I went there. And the baby was there in the crib and I woke him up as I usually did and laid down on the bed. I held him over my head, put him on the bed beside me, and after about 10 or 15 minutes, I put him on my lap. It felt weird. It reminded me of the time I had a hard on with that toddler 12 years before.
Some lady said, "There you go. That's no so bad, is it?" I had no idea at that time who it was, but she had a snide tone about her. I guess I blacked out, fell asleep or whatever. The next thing I know, she said, "He's not pulling his pants down." Then another woman, it sounded like my sister J, the baby's mother, said, "Oh, I'll do it." Meaning she'll pull my pants down. I was probably freaking out by then. What were they trying to do?
A little blackout minutes and the first woman said that I wasn't getting an erection, she sounded pissed, and told some other people there to give, or show, me "some encouragement." I looked at the wall directly at the foot of the bed and saw just a bit of pants. I was out again.
Again I woke up, in the same place, not even thinking about the baby or those people who were there, and I reached over to my father's nightstand by the bed. I was reaching for the drawer, there was a porno photo there. Some guy was there, not Fatso, who must have opened the drawer and found the picture and said to the woman, "Look what I found."
As he said this, I must have opened my eyes while I turned towards the man's voice. He was standing by the nightstand, and as I turned I saw the woman kneeling on the floor next to the bed, and she looked over at the man, too. I looked her full in the face, then as she turned her head away from the man, I looked at her again, and she looked at me and mouthed the words, or said, "See JL." The name she mentioned was the pot seller's wife. I didn't think anything of it then, and I didn't see her as JL, I just went out again.
The next thing I know was that I heard my mom's voice saying, "_____, look at what you're doing." I probably went out again, because that woman started yelling at me, "What did she say to you?" I didn't answer her. I'm assuming that my mom said something in German and that woman didn't understand why I looked again before I fell asleep. So, that woman started screaming at some people near the door of the room or on the other side of the door, "She fucked it up. Get that bitch up here."
I heard a lot of thumping on the stairs, and then heard three knocks on the door, and my mom said, "______, fuck the baby." I must have freaked out. Didn't even know where the baby was. I actually thought of fornication, not fuck as in kill. So I went out again.
Then I woke up again and the guy by the nightstand, who had the picture, said to the lady, "Why are you doing that? You already got..." She said, "He saw my face." She was referring to when I saw her and she said for me to see JL instead of her. I didn't know what the guy was referring to when he asked her why she was doing something.
I couldn't see. The woman said, "Let him see his hands," and the guy must have been blocking my view with something, because it seemed like he lifted something up and away from my face, and all I saw was the baby's face. I didn't see any hands. The baby's face was red, and he looked like he was about to cry. I didn't hear anything. Then I didn't see anything again.
The woman said, "Let him see her hands." Again, the guy lifted something that was blocking my view, and I saw a woman's hand, coming from behind the baby, but I didn't see the baby, and the hand reminded me of KS's hand. Then I was out again.
The woman said, "Let him see his face." Again, I saw the baby's face and he was smiling. Then I was out.
Without being prompted, I looked over at the woman kneeling at the side of the bed. she had her head turned all the way to her right and looking upwards. I looked towards where she was looking and I didn't see anything. It seemed like the guy who was there was holding something she was looking at. Her right arm obscured part of her face, she was reaching to her left while looking towards her right. i saw half of her face. She was a heavy set woman. I call her the Fat Faced Lady.
This lasted longer than any other time I was awake and heard/saw what was going on. It was quiet until the guy said, "Watch the bruising." I didn't think anything of it.
The next thing I knew FatFacedLady was holding the baby and dragging him up and down my side as I laid on the bed and she was screaming, "Look at what you did. He's dead." She did that over and over and laughing at me while I was freaking out. Then she alternated between, "He's dead," and, "He's alive." Still dragging whatever up and down my side. She was laughing and screaming. This went on a long time.
Someone started to take pictures, or flashing a light, while I was posing with this dead (?) baby. Holding him in my lap, I remember looking to my right while I was sitting at the edge of the bed. Flash of light. Then I looked down and thought to myself, "He looks dead." Another flash of light was when I thought the baby was hanging by my father's tie from the doorknob of the closet with me and the pot seller in the shot and I was pointing to the baby and smiling.
I do remember seeing two people very clearly in that room. One was the pot seller and the other was KS. If they were there at all, it was after it was over and it was time to freak me out. It was as if I were looking at still shots of them there. The shot of the pot seller was as if he had just walked into the room and the shot mentioned above about the hanging. The shot of KS was while she said, "What have we here?" as she touched the crib rails. I didn't see them otherwise at that time.
I walked back into my room. I picked up the phone, said something to KS, and hung up. Fatso was pissed, picked up the phone to see if there was still a connection. There wasn't and asked who was on the phone. I didn't answer, but I called her again and he spoke to her. He was pissed and I wasn't hearing what he was saying. Fatso hung up after a few seconds.
The next thing I remember was being downstairs, sitting in my mother's usual chair.
Next: Take the Lot and You'll Need a Plot 3.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
"Take the Lot and You'll Need a Plot 1"
Not much happening in real life. Still working delivering newspapers and still doing the online work, too.
It's the same old stuff in the head, though. It has boiled down to X and her two sisters, MR and OH. And of course X's son, FF, and daughter, CC. All they do is harass and try to get me to repeat their lies. They are criminals, and there's no backing down from calling her a rapist, because she is one.
But there's another issue they have that I know about them. It all has to do with my dead nephew. Like I've mentioned before, my sister J had a baby in May 1984, which was just around the time things started to get weird. Then, in October 1984 my grandmother was dying and that's when I so-called dreamt that I was at the foot of her hospital bed and X and her two sisters were there at her bedside.
I think this is probably the first time that I felt something weird. It wasn't a dream, but it wasn't as if I were totally awake. About a few months later was when they started to talk to me while I was sleeping.
Anyway, while sister J was pregnant, my aunt and uncle, J&H, started coming around more than they ever had. We saw them at that time more times in one month than in my whole lifetime. X came over regularly, anyway. Some strange things were said then. Like when J&H ask for money, which they've never done before. My dad said that he wouldn't give them any because they never had anything to do with us much before. Even X came over and tried to talk him into giving them some money. She kept saying that he had to, he didn't understand, it's family business, blah, blah, blah. He still said no.
And when KS was playing Q&A over at AN's house, she asked me, "If your uncle owed money, would you help him pay?" I said no. She asked why not, and I told her that I really didn't even know those people well anyway. Why should I work to pay someone else's bills? On minimum wage, no less. It was also around this time that I heard that uncle J was hospitalized for a while because he fell off some roof or something. Maybe someone beat him up. I wouldn't know.
So it came to be late 1984. I was going over to AN's house as usual, I was still going to the same pot sellers, and sister J had already had her baby. The baby had an operation in early Fall of 84. He came home from the hospital and the first time I picked him up out of his crib, my sister J came racing out of the kitchen and said, "See, you cursed him. Now that you picked him up, you cursed him." I said, or thought, that is just garbage. This could have been the same time that she was holding the baby, aunt H came out of the kitchen, kissed the baby, looked at me and pointed to either sister J or the baby. She mouthed some words, but I didn't get what she was trying to say. After he died in June 1985, she said that my grandmother had said something like we have to watch him, something's going to happen to him.
So, I was in the kitchen one day and I was holding the baby, and sister J comes and tries to take a candid photo of me and the baby. Just before she shot, I held the baby in front of my face and she wasn't too happy. But there was someone else there with her. I didn't see the person, but I could tell. And I was thinking, "Who was that guy with her?" It wasn't the guy she was living with, and then I heard some friend of my parent's who was visiting asking about the same thing, then said that it was FF, X's son. I couldn't have cared less, those people hadn't been on my mind for many years. It was strange that J just took a picture of me and the baby and no one else who was there.
It was the first time I met KS at AN's house in April 1985, just after I had my wisdom teeth out, started talking to her for hours on the phone. Yes, hours. I even beat off during one conversation even though we weren't talking about sex at the time. It just cut into my beating off hours, spending so much time on the phone. Then one day my mother asked me who was I talking to on the phone so much. I said, "No one." She said, "X wants to know who you are talking to." I thought, "Why would she want to know?" I hadn't had much to do with her or her relatives for a long time. Never did have any conversations with her at all. I do know that X and KS worked at the same company, not sure if it was at the same time. I don't know.
It was also around this time that my sister G came in the house with a manila envelope, about 12X12, and my mother was in the kitchen. G was going to the kitchen saying, "You have to tell him." I had no idea, and I still don't know, what she was talking about. My mother just said no, or something like that.
I was also going to the dope sellers as usual, and one time JL, the dealer's wife, was home alone, gun on the table while everyone else went out for the evening. I told her I'd stay until her husband came home. She put the gun away and we worked on a jigsaw puzzle. She did a lot of those. At one point, she looked at me and said, "Stay away from KS." She called her by her last name. It was one of those things that I know what people say, and don't respond even if I wanted to. It was just something to figure out later.
It was about the last time I was over the dealer's house, and I was sitting in my usual spot, a chair, and I looked down to see a vaccuum. I looked up a little and JL said, "See? I have to do this everytime you're over." I just chuckled and thought, "Yeah. I have a habit of flicking my ashes on the floor." I've never seen her do that before. I know that they could have, and probably were, reading me, finding out what's going on in my head and my real life. I was probably smoking while they were doing that. They never did take advantage of anything they found out. They probably knew what I was talking about with KS. How else could JL know that I knew someone by that name? They probably didn't know each other (KS and JL).
So, that's what I was doing in the Spring of 1985. Weird things. "Waking up" all sorts of crap. At home with my relatives talking to me while I was sleeping, at AN's house being interrogated by KS, and the pot sellers listening in.
One of the topics of conversation was by sister J's baby, but not in a nice way. So, of course the subject of my parents came up, too, but I never did talk about them much to anyone. They were from Europe and irritated the hell out of me with their constant pro-Nazi stance. Really horrible to listen to every day. And I saw the movie about some woman during the war who had to choose to send one of her children to death and keep the other one. I seriously thought that that is something that should happen to my parents, using my sister's baby. But there wasn't anything to choose between, that was their only grandchild. Along with they should have taken those pro-Nazi people and put them to death, too. Anyway, this kept coming to mind during those few months in Spring 1985.
So, who else would know about that thought? Anybody who was listening. I know it came up with KS. She used to make some hand motion, like pushing something down, pushing a baby's face into a pillow. I used to take that as acting out a killing, even though I never imagined any particular method of death, or who would do it.
So, at the end of May, after months of this crap, I was over at AN's house, and KS was there. She wasn't sitting at her usual spot and I was standing next to the table. AN was at the table, too. AN started to ask me about the last name of the pot sellers. I was just trying to back away and leave and she kept shouting, "What's their last name? What's their last name?" She was red in the face, but not angry. It was scary looking. So I said their last name, and AN pounded her arm on the table and started saying their name over and over, but directing her voice towards the kitchen.
I backed away and was ready to walk out, but then KS started telling me to sign something. I refused because I didn't see what she was talking about. She said my sister signed it, and so should I. I wondered what the hell she was talking about, she didn't know my sisters. KS pointed out a sheet of paper with my sister J's signature on it. KS mentioned something about handwriting, and I looked at the signature. I thought that it looked similar to mine, and maybe her's but I couldn't say since I've hardly seen any of my sister's handwriting.
So, I still didn't get what the paper was about, and she, or somebody, uncovered the top of the page and it said, "promissary note," and she or somebody pointed out the bottom left, I think, and the amount was $16,000. Then she just made that hand motion of hers, the baby suffocating move, and I thought, "How does she know what Iwant." Dumb way of putting it.
Bizarre, but what did I know? At one point, this microphone on a wire fell out of KS's cleavage and bounced onto the table. I just thought it was weird, and didn't say anything because she had pointed out some electrical wires on a cabinet at AN's house and at that time I thought that they should just go ahead with recording us, if that's what it was.
So, I still didn't sign the paper she wanted me to sign and told her that I'm not paying her a dime. Not paying her to take off any posts she might have put on me, or pay her to not "wake up" any imprints she could, I just wasn't going to pay her a dime for something that I never started. And she said, "You know pot causes schizophrenia." I've never heard of that before and just laughed and said, "Oh. I'll get over it."
Then she said, or I thought she said, that she was going to take off any posts or whatever garbage she did during her interrogations, but she said, waving her little finger at me, that she was going to keep that one on me, "for her." I thought, what the hell is she referring to? And after a few seconds, I thought of when my sister T, years ago, cut her little finger while washing the dishes, pitched a fit about and blah, blah, blah. When I thought of that, KS just nodded her head.
Then she gave me a piece of paper. It was lined notebook paper, a small piece, torn from a corner or the bottom of a full page. It was a little bit crumpled, too. So I read the first line and realized after a few words that it was this so called baby killing thing. I stopped reading and said, "I want no part of this." Then KS might have said the pot and schizo thing then, but she did tell me to look at the TV that was in the living room. It looked like the news was on because there was a man and a woman on the screen.
She told me to look at the guy, then look at the woman. Something was weird, I don't know exactly what, but then she said something like, "You don't get it, do you?" I just shrugged my shoulders. It was probably about X's rape, when X told me to watch the TV while she raped me. KS did know about that, I'm sure, because early on she asked me if I got the connection between WAOVW, and X's episode.
So, I backed away and left that house. The next thing I know was that I went to the dope seller's house and I went in. The guy was in the kitchen and he was mad. I was sort of leaning over the kitchen table and he was standing. Then he said, "Take the lot and you'll need a plot. It will never learn how to talk. Now wake up, _______." He told me to wake up, slightly mispronouncing my name. I was looking down at the table while he was saying this, and I didn't get what he was talking about at all until he told me to look, and I saw a picture of my sister's baby and said or thought his name, and thought, "He's going to die?" When he was finished, said that I should wake up, I looked at him and said, "I've been awake." Or, "I am awake." And "What do you mean?" He was really pissed that I knew what was said, pointed to the door and I left.
At that time, my parents had been thinking about buying the empty lot next to the house. It was cheap at $6,000, they had half the money and could borrow the other half. But it was strange that my mom kept asking me if they should buy the lot. I told her why not? It's cheap and blah, blah, blah. But she asked a lot. I didn't think of it much when she wasn't asking about it. It wasn't going to be mine, I wasn't putting up any of the money. But she still asked.
So, why the connection between buying the lot and needing a plot for my sister's baby? None. It's a head game they were all playing. Try to get their victim to make an association between two things that have nothing to do with each other, and you got your victim running around in circles about it. I didn't care about it.
At home maybe a day later, X was there and there were flowers on the table. When I got in the kitchen, she said or I thought she said, "These are for you." I thought, "Oh. Some more of their queer crap they harass me with." I didn't get it. She had to say, or I thought she said, "They're daisies, You're pushing them up." OK. So she's in with the "Take the lot and you'll need a plot"
I just brushed it off. Crap is what they are. Things like that don't happen, I wasn't that nuts to believe them. And after almost ten months of being harassed and badgered by several different crowds of people, did they actually want me to say that out loud? Say something so stupid? I couldn't have cared less, if they knew themselves what was going to happen, why drag me into it. I just walked through it when they started their crap.
So, for at least three days after I first heard the "Take the lot and you'll need a plot..." I was walking around thinking about it constantly. That weekend, there was that visit by X, my parents went to X's house, and my uncle came over by himself. I thought, "He knows they aren't home and he knows where they're at." I had to sit on the floor by the door until he stopped knocking and left.
Sunday came. I was just going to go upstairs, and some people were leaving, I think it was X, and my mom was showing them out. She came up to me and asked me again, should they buy the lot. I shrugged my shoulders. She said, "We gonna do what you say." I just told her to go ahead, why not buy it? The next day my mom and my sister G was going to sign the papers to buy the lot.
So, with the Lot,Plot thing in my head and the connection with the baby, as bizarre as it sounds, I made sure that the baby was at my sister's house, or anywhere but here. I didn't say anything and it just worked out that way. I was glad, the baby's nowhere near me, nothing's going to happen, my dad was going to be at work, my mother and sister were going to be buying the lot, and I could just sleep.
Next: Monday June 3, 1985.
It's the same old stuff in the head, though. It has boiled down to X and her two sisters, MR and OH. And of course X's son, FF, and daughter, CC. All they do is harass and try to get me to repeat their lies. They are criminals, and there's no backing down from calling her a rapist, because she is one.
But there's another issue they have that I know about them. It all has to do with my dead nephew. Like I've mentioned before, my sister J had a baby in May 1984, which was just around the time things started to get weird. Then, in October 1984 my grandmother was dying and that's when I so-called dreamt that I was at the foot of her hospital bed and X and her two sisters were there at her bedside.
I think this is probably the first time that I felt something weird. It wasn't a dream, but it wasn't as if I were totally awake. About a few months later was when they started to talk to me while I was sleeping.
Anyway, while sister J was pregnant, my aunt and uncle, J&H, started coming around more than they ever had. We saw them at that time more times in one month than in my whole lifetime. X came over regularly, anyway. Some strange things were said then. Like when J&H ask for money, which they've never done before. My dad said that he wouldn't give them any because they never had anything to do with us much before. Even X came over and tried to talk him into giving them some money. She kept saying that he had to, he didn't understand, it's family business, blah, blah, blah. He still said no.
And when KS was playing Q&A over at AN's house, she asked me, "If your uncle owed money, would you help him pay?" I said no. She asked why not, and I told her that I really didn't even know those people well anyway. Why should I work to pay someone else's bills? On minimum wage, no less. It was also around this time that I heard that uncle J was hospitalized for a while because he fell off some roof or something. Maybe someone beat him up. I wouldn't know.
So it came to be late 1984. I was going over to AN's house as usual, I was still going to the same pot sellers, and sister J had already had her baby. The baby had an operation in early Fall of 84. He came home from the hospital and the first time I picked him up out of his crib, my sister J came racing out of the kitchen and said, "See, you cursed him. Now that you picked him up, you cursed him." I said, or thought, that is just garbage. This could have been the same time that she was holding the baby, aunt H came out of the kitchen, kissed the baby, looked at me and pointed to either sister J or the baby. She mouthed some words, but I didn't get what she was trying to say. After he died in June 1985, she said that my grandmother had said something like we have to watch him, something's going to happen to him.
So, I was in the kitchen one day and I was holding the baby, and sister J comes and tries to take a candid photo of me and the baby. Just before she shot, I held the baby in front of my face and she wasn't too happy. But there was someone else there with her. I didn't see the person, but I could tell. And I was thinking, "Who was that guy with her?" It wasn't the guy she was living with, and then I heard some friend of my parent's who was visiting asking about the same thing, then said that it was FF, X's son. I couldn't have cared less, those people hadn't been on my mind for many years. It was strange that J just took a picture of me and the baby and no one else who was there.
It was the first time I met KS at AN's house in April 1985, just after I had my wisdom teeth out, started talking to her for hours on the phone. Yes, hours. I even beat off during one conversation even though we weren't talking about sex at the time. It just cut into my beating off hours, spending so much time on the phone. Then one day my mother asked me who was I talking to on the phone so much. I said, "No one." She said, "X wants to know who you are talking to." I thought, "Why would she want to know?" I hadn't had much to do with her or her relatives for a long time. Never did have any conversations with her at all. I do know that X and KS worked at the same company, not sure if it was at the same time. I don't know.
It was also around this time that my sister G came in the house with a manila envelope, about 12X12, and my mother was in the kitchen. G was going to the kitchen saying, "You have to tell him." I had no idea, and I still don't know, what she was talking about. My mother just said no, or something like that.
I was also going to the dope sellers as usual, and one time JL, the dealer's wife, was home alone, gun on the table while everyone else went out for the evening. I told her I'd stay until her husband came home. She put the gun away and we worked on a jigsaw puzzle. She did a lot of those. At one point, she looked at me and said, "Stay away from KS." She called her by her last name. It was one of those things that I know what people say, and don't respond even if I wanted to. It was just something to figure out later.
It was about the last time I was over the dealer's house, and I was sitting in my usual spot, a chair, and I looked down to see a vaccuum. I looked up a little and JL said, "See? I have to do this everytime you're over." I just chuckled and thought, "Yeah. I have a habit of flicking my ashes on the floor." I've never seen her do that before. I know that they could have, and probably were, reading me, finding out what's going on in my head and my real life. I was probably smoking while they were doing that. They never did take advantage of anything they found out. They probably knew what I was talking about with KS. How else could JL know that I knew someone by that name? They probably didn't know each other (KS and JL).
So, that's what I was doing in the Spring of 1985. Weird things. "Waking up" all sorts of crap. At home with my relatives talking to me while I was sleeping, at AN's house being interrogated by KS, and the pot sellers listening in.
One of the topics of conversation was by sister J's baby, but not in a nice way. So, of course the subject of my parents came up, too, but I never did talk about them much to anyone. They were from Europe and irritated the hell out of me with their constant pro-Nazi stance. Really horrible to listen to every day. And I saw the movie about some woman during the war who had to choose to send one of her children to death and keep the other one. I seriously thought that that is something that should happen to my parents, using my sister's baby. But there wasn't anything to choose between, that was their only grandchild. Along with they should have taken those pro-Nazi people and put them to death, too. Anyway, this kept coming to mind during those few months in Spring 1985.
So, who else would know about that thought? Anybody who was listening. I know it came up with KS. She used to make some hand motion, like pushing something down, pushing a baby's face into a pillow. I used to take that as acting out a killing, even though I never imagined any particular method of death, or who would do it.
So, at the end of May, after months of this crap, I was over at AN's house, and KS was there. She wasn't sitting at her usual spot and I was standing next to the table. AN was at the table, too. AN started to ask me about the last name of the pot sellers. I was just trying to back away and leave and she kept shouting, "What's their last name? What's their last name?" She was red in the face, but not angry. It was scary looking. So I said their last name, and AN pounded her arm on the table and started saying their name over and over, but directing her voice towards the kitchen.
I backed away and was ready to walk out, but then KS started telling me to sign something. I refused because I didn't see what she was talking about. She said my sister signed it, and so should I. I wondered what the hell she was talking about, she didn't know my sisters. KS pointed out a sheet of paper with my sister J's signature on it. KS mentioned something about handwriting, and I looked at the signature. I thought that it looked similar to mine, and maybe her's but I couldn't say since I've hardly seen any of my sister's handwriting.
So, I still didn't get what the paper was about, and she, or somebody, uncovered the top of the page and it said, "promissary note," and she or somebody pointed out the bottom left, I think, and the amount was $16,000. Then she just made that hand motion of hers, the baby suffocating move, and I thought, "How does she know what Iwant." Dumb way of putting it.
Bizarre, but what did I know? At one point, this microphone on a wire fell out of KS's cleavage and bounced onto the table. I just thought it was weird, and didn't say anything because she had pointed out some electrical wires on a cabinet at AN's house and at that time I thought that they should just go ahead with recording us, if that's what it was.
So, I still didn't sign the paper she wanted me to sign and told her that I'm not paying her a dime. Not paying her to take off any posts she might have put on me, or pay her to not "wake up" any imprints she could, I just wasn't going to pay her a dime for something that I never started. And she said, "You know pot causes schizophrenia." I've never heard of that before and just laughed and said, "Oh. I'll get over it."
Then she said, or I thought she said, that she was going to take off any posts or whatever garbage she did during her interrogations, but she said, waving her little finger at me, that she was going to keep that one on me, "for her." I thought, what the hell is she referring to? And after a few seconds, I thought of when my sister T, years ago, cut her little finger while washing the dishes, pitched a fit about and blah, blah, blah. When I thought of that, KS just nodded her head.
Then she gave me a piece of paper. It was lined notebook paper, a small piece, torn from a corner or the bottom of a full page. It was a little bit crumpled, too. So I read the first line and realized after a few words that it was this so called baby killing thing. I stopped reading and said, "I want no part of this." Then KS might have said the pot and schizo thing then, but she did tell me to look at the TV that was in the living room. It looked like the news was on because there was a man and a woman on the screen.
She told me to look at the guy, then look at the woman. Something was weird, I don't know exactly what, but then she said something like, "You don't get it, do you?" I just shrugged my shoulders. It was probably about X's rape, when X told me to watch the TV while she raped me. KS did know about that, I'm sure, because early on she asked me if I got the connection between WAOVW, and X's episode.
So, I backed away and left that house. The next thing I know was that I went to the dope seller's house and I went in. The guy was in the kitchen and he was mad. I was sort of leaning over the kitchen table and he was standing. Then he said, "Take the lot and you'll need a plot. It will never learn how to talk. Now wake up, _______." He told me to wake up, slightly mispronouncing my name. I was looking down at the table while he was saying this, and I didn't get what he was talking about at all until he told me to look, and I saw a picture of my sister's baby and said or thought his name, and thought, "He's going to die?" When he was finished, said that I should wake up, I looked at him and said, "I've been awake." Or, "I am awake." And "What do you mean?" He was really pissed that I knew what was said, pointed to the door and I left.
At that time, my parents had been thinking about buying the empty lot next to the house. It was cheap at $6,000, they had half the money and could borrow the other half. But it was strange that my mom kept asking me if they should buy the lot. I told her why not? It's cheap and blah, blah, blah. But she asked a lot. I didn't think of it much when she wasn't asking about it. It wasn't going to be mine, I wasn't putting up any of the money. But she still asked.
So, why the connection between buying the lot and needing a plot for my sister's baby? None. It's a head game they were all playing. Try to get their victim to make an association between two things that have nothing to do with each other, and you got your victim running around in circles about it. I didn't care about it.
At home maybe a day later, X was there and there were flowers on the table. When I got in the kitchen, she said or I thought she said, "These are for you." I thought, "Oh. Some more of their queer crap they harass me with." I didn't get it. She had to say, or I thought she said, "They're daisies, You're pushing them up." OK. So she's in with the "Take the lot and you'll need a plot"
I just brushed it off. Crap is what they are. Things like that don't happen, I wasn't that nuts to believe them. And after almost ten months of being harassed and badgered by several different crowds of people, did they actually want me to say that out loud? Say something so stupid? I couldn't have cared less, if they knew themselves what was going to happen, why drag me into it. I just walked through it when they started their crap.
So, for at least three days after I first heard the "Take the lot and you'll need a plot..." I was walking around thinking about it constantly. That weekend, there was that visit by X, my parents went to X's house, and my uncle came over by himself. I thought, "He knows they aren't home and he knows where they're at." I had to sit on the floor by the door until he stopped knocking and left.
Sunday came. I was just going to go upstairs, and some people were leaving, I think it was X, and my mom was showing them out. She came up to me and asked me again, should they buy the lot. I shrugged my shoulders. She said, "We gonna do what you say." I just told her to go ahead, why not buy it? The next day my mom and my sister G was going to sign the papers to buy the lot.
So, with the Lot,Plot thing in my head and the connection with the baby, as bizarre as it sounds, I made sure that the baby was at my sister's house, or anywhere but here. I didn't say anything and it just worked out that way. I was glad, the baby's nowhere near me, nothing's going to happen, my dad was going to be at work, my mother and sister were going to be buying the lot, and I could just sleep.
Next: Monday June 3, 1985.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
THE PROBLEM OF FF
May 29, 2012 10:58 am EDT
Some things have changed lately. Still working delivery and also online. Joined some forums about sz, and actively write to someone in the UK. As I've mentioned before, I got a lot of head trouble from the usual suspects about blogging and posting. I guess they don't like it because, firstly, I tell the truth, and secondly, they can't interfere, other than screwing up my typing and making things take a little longer to do.
Anyway, I've also been reading up on CBT, Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. It seems like I've been doing a lot of what's recommended in CBT. Keeping a log of thoughts and what they mean to me, which I do here and in forum posts and letters. Meditating. The one thing I haven't been doing, and what I should have been doing, is not engaging with the voices. It was hard not to engage them since most of what they say is just lies to cover for X. It always seemed like X is creating a fantasy world for herself where everybody else is subordinate, only allowed to spout out her fake stories to cover the fact that she's a rapist, and everybody is supposed to accept living in her fantasy land where everybody has fun, plays games, and is always under her watch.
So, the past few days, I haven't taken the bait and joined in their conversations, I just get my mind out of that world of the voices by looking around where I really am, at work or wherever, and not answering back to the slightest noise or voice. I find it getting easier to pull myself away from her daily babble.
Another bit of their fantasy land involves OH, X's sister (see previous posts). It's either her or some woman from the homo community (a community activist). So this woman, and I'll stick to her being X's sister, is usually there, just waiting for her cue to jump into the "you have to jump through these hoops" programming. Her cue is any mention of the gay community and she starts in with "accept their scenario of 'you want to be a woman, or drag queen,' or some other crap thing she has. I say that community is the last place I belong, but no, they have all these things for me to do and they have worked so hard on me to accept their idea of what I should be that I just have to do that for them. But these are the same people who say things like, "You will never be complete until you try to kill yourself for real." And I'm supposed to follow their plans?
So, when OH doesn't like something or if she's being sidelined because there's no mention of queers, she'll snap her fingers or clap three times to get me to be MH, their literal goon who physically reacts to trigger words, the one who (at McC's, the store in 1985) woke up and when they shined a light on me and asked me who I was, I said MH, then I saw (or thought I saw) sister T, and said, "You." So they play out that bit and of course they apply anything I say or think to that agenda.
OH also pushes the queer agenda, but if push came to shove, she would push X's agenda of 'I need you to go out in a dress.' X even played out a 'oh, just once before I die, please put on a dress.' Not happening. But that's all X knows because she, along with others, started that dress wearing crap when I was six. As X put it a few times lately, "Either you accept this (holds up a dress) or you die (points to ground--without saying the word die)." I choose neither.
OH also reminds me of the time at MEPS, the military induction place I went to in 1986. When I was there, they swore me in and some guys took me away and the next thing I remember is sitting in some chair with some guys on either side of me. This woman was screaming at them to hold me down. Someone had a needle with some yellowish stuff in it. One of the guys said that what she was going to do was illegal. She screamed that she didn't care and they should give me 'all of it." And then they did and I had a horrible nightmare (see previous post).
I'm beginning to believe that what I went through at MEPS was "waking up" what X and her accomplices did to me at X's house the day before I went to MEPS. The first thing I remember after they inducted, and then shot me up with whatever, was some woman asking me, "Who is your godmother?" I said it was X. The woman started to write and I told her how to spell the name.
Lately, FF has been hanging around again, with his mother, X, never far away. He was always used as a harasser for them. He was sister J's "guide" back in 1985, and he's the one who passed a note to some coworker of mine in 1986, a note that asked me about my heritage. Then he has been there the past couple of years as someone to copy, as X calls it C, or watch. And the dumber the copying of FF is, the better for them. And let's not forget the time he played out the Kurt Cobain psychodrama.
Now, it seems he is being used as someone to do X's dirty work when she's not around. He'll stand around telling me what to do or else, as he puts it, "I can make you into a girl." Oh really? Lamest imitation of a broad I would be. Then he snaps his fingers, and when nothing happens he gets pissed. Earlier, someone dragged him away right before I mentioned the fact that his mother, X, is a rapist, and he was screaming, "How can I do (this) when I don't even know who I am?"
I'm not surprised that he doesn't know who he is. X probably keeps him mentally a three year old. FF did say something telling earlier today. When I mentioned the word rape, he said, "No, that was G (my sister)." That's probably why they mention her a lot and threaten her (we'd hate for you to lose your sister G). They are setting her up as a scapegoat, and leave it to X and her relatives to drag everyone down to X's level. If she's going to be a rapist (and she is) then so is anyone who knows about her.
That's about how it is in X's fantasy world nowadays. Always ready with a cover story that everybody else is going to be witnesses to, whether they like it or not. And always ready with the daily routine of 'make mistakes and absentmindedly do this or that and just associate.' And they're always ready with the "Who are you now?" question.
As CBT would tell us, now isn't where I'm at when they do their routine. Now is where I'm at when I remember.
So what is the problem? Hearing voices.
What are my beliefs about that? It's X and her accomplices creating cover stories and keeping me quiet.
How does that make me feel? Used. Humiliated. Defenseless. Distressed that I'm not allowed to leave.
What behavior does that bring out in me? In my head--arguing with them with the facts that I know. Yelling. Threatening them. Slap 'em around. In real life--wasting a lot of time thinking about it even after I've written it all out. Being careful of what words I even think, let alone say out loud. Isolate myself. Do nothing more than what's required. Living like a criminal.
Question it:
Can X and her accomplices really do all that conversing with me that I remember in my waking hours? No.
Can anyone change me into a girl or any other "person"? No, and I never believed that, only believed that that is what she can show someone.
What if they were really trying to help, not harm? Laughable. From the things I hear, none of it is helpful. The technique of this sort of "help" is a problem in and of itself.
Can anyone do all this without my cooperation? No. But threats work wonders when they come from someone who victimized me.
What to change? The thoughts or the behavior? The behavior. The thoughts are just what they are--thoughts. Can't stop them. Just having thought doesn't automatically make it true, or even valid.
What to do about it? Learn to ignore and not to agree with them or engage them in conversation. And write about it.
Some things have changed lately. Still working delivery and also online. Joined some forums about sz, and actively write to someone in the UK. As I've mentioned before, I got a lot of head trouble from the usual suspects about blogging and posting. I guess they don't like it because, firstly, I tell the truth, and secondly, they can't interfere, other than screwing up my typing and making things take a little longer to do.
Anyway, I've also been reading up on CBT, Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. It seems like I've been doing a lot of what's recommended in CBT. Keeping a log of thoughts and what they mean to me, which I do here and in forum posts and letters. Meditating. The one thing I haven't been doing, and what I should have been doing, is not engaging with the voices. It was hard not to engage them since most of what they say is just lies to cover for X. It always seemed like X is creating a fantasy world for herself where everybody else is subordinate, only allowed to spout out her fake stories to cover the fact that she's a rapist, and everybody is supposed to accept living in her fantasy land where everybody has fun, plays games, and is always under her watch.
So, the past few days, I haven't taken the bait and joined in their conversations, I just get my mind out of that world of the voices by looking around where I really am, at work or wherever, and not answering back to the slightest noise or voice. I find it getting easier to pull myself away from her daily babble.
Another bit of their fantasy land involves OH, X's sister (see previous posts). It's either her or some woman from the homo community (a community activist). So this woman, and I'll stick to her being X's sister, is usually there, just waiting for her cue to jump into the "you have to jump through these hoops" programming. Her cue is any mention of the gay community and she starts in with "accept their scenario of 'you want to be a woman, or drag queen,' or some other crap thing she has. I say that community is the last place I belong, but no, they have all these things for me to do and they have worked so hard on me to accept their idea of what I should be that I just have to do that for them. But these are the same people who say things like, "You will never be complete until you try to kill yourself for real." And I'm supposed to follow their plans?
So, when OH doesn't like something or if she's being sidelined because there's no mention of queers, she'll snap her fingers or clap three times to get me to be MH, their literal goon who physically reacts to trigger words, the one who (at McC's, the store in 1985) woke up and when they shined a light on me and asked me who I was, I said MH, then I saw (or thought I saw) sister T, and said, "You." So they play out that bit and of course they apply anything I say or think to that agenda.
OH also pushes the queer agenda, but if push came to shove, she would push X's agenda of 'I need you to go out in a dress.' X even played out a 'oh, just once before I die, please put on a dress.' Not happening. But that's all X knows because she, along with others, started that dress wearing crap when I was six. As X put it a few times lately, "Either you accept this (holds up a dress) or you die (points to ground--without saying the word die)." I choose neither.
OH also reminds me of the time at MEPS, the military induction place I went to in 1986. When I was there, they swore me in and some guys took me away and the next thing I remember is sitting in some chair with some guys on either side of me. This woman was screaming at them to hold me down. Someone had a needle with some yellowish stuff in it. One of the guys said that what she was going to do was illegal. She screamed that she didn't care and they should give me 'all of it." And then they did and I had a horrible nightmare (see previous post).
I'm beginning to believe that what I went through at MEPS was "waking up" what X and her accomplices did to me at X's house the day before I went to MEPS. The first thing I remember after they inducted, and then shot me up with whatever, was some woman asking me, "Who is your godmother?" I said it was X. The woman started to write and I told her how to spell the name.
Lately, FF has been hanging around again, with his mother, X, never far away. He was always used as a harasser for them. He was sister J's "guide" back in 1985, and he's the one who passed a note to some coworker of mine in 1986, a note that asked me about my heritage. Then he has been there the past couple of years as someone to copy, as X calls it C, or watch. And the dumber the copying of FF is, the better for them. And let's not forget the time he played out the Kurt Cobain psychodrama.
Now, it seems he is being used as someone to do X's dirty work when she's not around. He'll stand around telling me what to do or else, as he puts it, "I can make you into a girl." Oh really? Lamest imitation of a broad I would be. Then he snaps his fingers, and when nothing happens he gets pissed. Earlier, someone dragged him away right before I mentioned the fact that his mother, X, is a rapist, and he was screaming, "How can I do (this) when I don't even know who I am?"
I'm not surprised that he doesn't know who he is. X probably keeps him mentally a three year old. FF did say something telling earlier today. When I mentioned the word rape, he said, "No, that was G (my sister)." That's probably why they mention her a lot and threaten her (we'd hate for you to lose your sister G). They are setting her up as a scapegoat, and leave it to X and her relatives to drag everyone down to X's level. If she's going to be a rapist (and she is) then so is anyone who knows about her.
That's about how it is in X's fantasy world nowadays. Always ready with a cover story that everybody else is going to be witnesses to, whether they like it or not. And always ready with the daily routine of 'make mistakes and absentmindedly do this or that and just associate.' And they're always ready with the "Who are you now?" question.
As CBT would tell us, now isn't where I'm at when they do their routine. Now is where I'm at when I remember.
So what is the problem? Hearing voices.
What are my beliefs about that? It's X and her accomplices creating cover stories and keeping me quiet.
How does that make me feel? Used. Humiliated. Defenseless. Distressed that I'm not allowed to leave.
What behavior does that bring out in me? In my head--arguing with them with the facts that I know. Yelling. Threatening them. Slap 'em around. In real life--wasting a lot of time thinking about it even after I've written it all out. Being careful of what words I even think, let alone say out loud. Isolate myself. Do nothing more than what's required. Living like a criminal.
Question it:
Can X and her accomplices really do all that conversing with me that I remember in my waking hours? No.
Can anyone change me into a girl or any other "person"? No, and I never believed that, only believed that that is what she can show someone.
What if they were really trying to help, not harm? Laughable. From the things I hear, none of it is helpful. The technique of this sort of "help" is a problem in and of itself.
Can anyone do all this without my cooperation? No. But threats work wonders when they come from someone who victimized me.
What to change? The thoughts or the behavior? The behavior. The thoughts are just what they are--thoughts. Can't stop them. Just having thought doesn't automatically make it true, or even valid.
What to do about it? Learn to ignore and not to agree with them or engage them in conversation. And write about it.
Friday, May 4, 2012
Friday May 4, 2012
Friday May 4, 2012 7:33pm EDT
Not much happening in real life. I still work overnight delivering and work online during the day. I have been going on sz forums a lot and have posted hundreds of times about what is basically in my blog anyway.
Lately, the voices have been on a harassing mania. I think about X, saying she is a rapist and her dupes should know about it because she really uses them to cover her ass. She brings up, with the help of my sister J, a lot of imprints, creates others, etc. Her son, FF, is either playing dumb, really is dumb, and just waiting for an opportuntiy to screw people.
I thought about that coworker of mine at a gas station who knew FF, and the time FF came in the station, passed the coworker a piece of paper and it was what his friend, the coworker, was supposed to ask me. The coworker asked me what my nationality was and before I could say German, FF jumped in with, "Hungarian." Both answers are correct. He was acting like he spared me the trouble of saying German.
When I think about that, X and her dupes say that the coworker will never confirm or verify anything. One of the last times I was over there for their usual harassment and torture sessions, that coworker was there, or not, but it was just another one of X's dog and pony shows to "show" people what I am, according to her. Before the ex coworker left, X told him to "watch his kids," implying that she and FF had something on him about screwing around with kids. That's their favorite slander tactic.
Haven't imagined being over at X's house lately. But when I started thinking about the time she raped me, it's just been nothing but harassment from her family. Like I mentioned before, this started for me in Oct 1985. I remembered, as a dream of course, like they want it, but I remember waking up at the foot of my grandmother's hospital room and X and her two sisters were standing at the hospital bed. I thought, "What the fuck?"
I wasn't awake, but it wasn't a normal dream. It was too vivid to be how I really dream, but being cut off with "wake up, go to sleep" it was like I wasn't awake either. So her family's been on the rampage with her. And after all this time and after all their failures, they still try to set up FF as a "friend" and "FF is psychic." What garbage. With that and FF always bringing up "he thinks he's Kurt Cobain" it's just a way to have someone do their dirty work if I'm suddenly FF's friend.
I don't make friends with the voices in my head. I don't believe what they say, especially since X is directing them all. If she can make me look like things I'm not and say things that don't apply to me, she can do that to her dupes. And it all is because she is a rapist and I refuse to even think about lying for her. They use the tactic to try to get me to doubt myself and the real past. Or run that queer transtesticle crap up the flagpole and try to get me to replay, so they can rewrite, the Q and A done by KS back in 1985.
They also try to get me to talk, in real life, to my mother about sex. Not happening. My immediate family weren't the kind of people who did that. When all else fails, when they can't get me to verify what I said back in 1985, or accepting their weird and ridiculous queer agenda, or talk to my mother about sex, they fall back on their old standby of suicide or calling me a child molestor to play out for their audience.
Haven't thought about being at X's house, and with real security cameras always recording, no one can take me there or come here, she's lying to people and saying that she was giving me German lessons at her house. Oh, no...they're not torturing me and harassing me and planning future failure through playing out their psychodramas, it was all about German lessons. They are full of such crap. They'll make me think of a German word or something along those lines and X is there corrrrrecting me and then it's, "See ve ver givink him the Cherman lesson." Liars.
And they still sit around waiting for me to beat off so X and sister J can put some idea of kids in my head while I'm watching some porn or something and then her other dupes, her sister OH are there to have some "proof" that I'm a pediaphile or whatever. X and her dupes just want to drag people down to her level, the rapist level.
I'm stil waiting for the rest of my Navy records, the ones with the reason for a medical discharge on them. I remember that night before I left for the Navy being over at X's house and I woke up in the middle of her "programming" saying to me, "And then you pull down the seargent's pants..." And going through her crap of introducing me to "Don't you remember your Uncle..." When I got up to leave, she asked me (and probably didn't have to say it out loud herself) "Do you remember vat ve takt about?" I thought of how guys used to avoid the draft by playing queer and I said, "No. I'm not going to do that. That's illegal."
But as I was leaving her house, and she said, real phony, "Enjoy yourrr new life," I wasn't leaving the way I went in, but towards the kitchen (where earlier she gave me something to drink. she put some drops of something in there, I saw the soda, I presume, ripple. she said, "doesn't everything taste better at (her) house")
When I was at the induction center in Cleveland, Right after induction, some Army guy came up to me and said, "Now we got you." The lady who inducted us waved him off and some people grabbed me from behind (didn't see them) and took me away. The lady just shrugged her shoulders at the Army guy.
They took me to a room and I was sitting in a chair. She told two guys to hold my arms. One of them said, "You know this is illegal." She said, "I don't care. Give him all of it." They held my arms down and gave me a shot in my right arm." Things got weird after that, will post about it soon. But I wonder,and this is probably true, that there at the induction center, what they woke up is what X and her family has been "programming" me with since 1985, and they were probably doing that since 1967 when X first did her child abuse on me and my sister G.
Definitely after she raped me an assaulted my mother in 1969, they have been on a campaign of screwing me over to make any victim and witness totally incompetent. I do believe that in real life, X had been caught, somebody knew she was a child molestor. In her own family, OH, her sister, has seen her handiwork.
It must have been in summer 1970 because I remember watching the Carpenter's show on their TV. I was upstairs in her son's bedroom and he said he was getting....uhh, aroused. So I offered to take care of it. And OH caught us, freaked out, and called her sister, X. So X and her husband came over there. X even had a big grocery bag full of her props that she had probably been using since 1967. Ha. Maybe she kept it by the door in case she had to go out on a call. Like a doctor's house call. Ha.
Anyway, X put me through the usual ritual of getting me drunk and there were some things like toys? maybe. So the subject of where I learned such behavior came up and I remember X's huband said it was the neighbor lady. He made some motions with his head, nodding in one direction, prompting me probably, because they mand me say the neighbor lady's name. A girl, actually she was, probably in her teens. And this is the same person F, whom I describe in the incident at the store in Aug 1985. The one with Fatso. I wonder if she knows, for real, that X has used her as a scapegoat for 42 years now.
So, that woman's name came up and OH, who was either doped up by X or drunk off her ass (both she and X were heavy alcoholics back then) and was just so sorry for us, and my, my, my. Too bad she didn't know, or was warned by X that it could happen, since X had been on her rampage less than a year before. I know CC wasn't reserved about mentioning it, although they do lie about the details of 1969, as to who did what, etc.
I remember we went over to X's house after the 1969 incident and a couple of CC's cousins were there also, and CC herded them into her room, but I couldn't go in. When they came out, those two girls were just staring at me. No doubt CC said something.
So, there it is about OH, who has recently been doing X's dirty work by pushing the queer agenda on me and all in all, she can't be trusted. First of all, X's main priority is to cover her own ass because X is a rapist and also cover her ass for screwing me over the day before the Navy thing. I never agreed to playing that queer card to get out of it. I went, I was inducted, and it was a failure. If they did wake up X's transtesticle crap, which she used on me in 1967, then who the hell knows what X wakes up.
Wouldn't trust OH. She's pushing that queer agenda at the direction of X most likely. OH doesn't even know the whole story, none of her dupes know the whole story. They're just told to say this or that, follow their scripts, carry on a conversation within my earshot and hope I react so they can say, "We're not talking to you," or, "See, he's crazy," or read a list of trigger words to me that, when I hear it later, I'll associate that word with whatever they have set up, be it remembering their idiotic contrived conversations.
When they say to me, "You will never be complete until you try to kill yourself for real," anyone can see they're just psychotic themselves. Or when X says that she will make sure that I go (die) before she does because no one is going to tell her son about her. I thought, then just take him with you when you go. But ironically, she's pushing him on me as an imaginary friend, creating some imaginary life that she controls, and FF is supposed to carry on this crap of hers after she's dead (unless I go first, as she said). No, what they want is FF to be around and close by when they need to play out the suicide thing because, after all, he's the one who took the gun from the side of my head and put it in my mouth to show me the right way. He must have been the one who gave me the gun since I don't own one and have never picked one up in my life. They want to play the same freak out games all the time.
At one time, years ago, they said, "This is the only way we can tell you the truth. You agreed to it." No. From what I hear, and I know it's not the same thing that her audience hears, they are just trying to cover the real truth with lies.
Like I thought before, I could have told anyone everything in 27 minutes, not the 27 years that it's taking those criminals and their freak show.
As a side note, OH's husband died recently and I couldn't have cared less. And I don't feel bad about not feeling bad.
Not much happening in real life. I still work overnight delivering and work online during the day. I have been going on sz forums a lot and have posted hundreds of times about what is basically in my blog anyway.
Lately, the voices have been on a harassing mania. I think about X, saying she is a rapist and her dupes should know about it because she really uses them to cover her ass. She brings up, with the help of my sister J, a lot of imprints, creates others, etc. Her son, FF, is either playing dumb, really is dumb, and just waiting for an opportuntiy to screw people.
I thought about that coworker of mine at a gas station who knew FF, and the time FF came in the station, passed the coworker a piece of paper and it was what his friend, the coworker, was supposed to ask me. The coworker asked me what my nationality was and before I could say German, FF jumped in with, "Hungarian." Both answers are correct. He was acting like he spared me the trouble of saying German.
When I think about that, X and her dupes say that the coworker will never confirm or verify anything. One of the last times I was over there for their usual harassment and torture sessions, that coworker was there, or not, but it was just another one of X's dog and pony shows to "show" people what I am, according to her. Before the ex coworker left, X told him to "watch his kids," implying that she and FF had something on him about screwing around with kids. That's their favorite slander tactic.
Haven't imagined being over at X's house lately. But when I started thinking about the time she raped me, it's just been nothing but harassment from her family. Like I mentioned before, this started for me in Oct 1985. I remembered, as a dream of course, like they want it, but I remember waking up at the foot of my grandmother's hospital room and X and her two sisters were standing at the hospital bed. I thought, "What the fuck?"
I wasn't awake, but it wasn't a normal dream. It was too vivid to be how I really dream, but being cut off with "wake up, go to sleep" it was like I wasn't awake either. So her family's been on the rampage with her. And after all this time and after all their failures, they still try to set up FF as a "friend" and "FF is psychic." What garbage. With that and FF always bringing up "he thinks he's Kurt Cobain" it's just a way to have someone do their dirty work if I'm suddenly FF's friend.
I don't make friends with the voices in my head. I don't believe what they say, especially since X is directing them all. If she can make me look like things I'm not and say things that don't apply to me, she can do that to her dupes. And it all is because she is a rapist and I refuse to even think about lying for her. They use the tactic to try to get me to doubt myself and the real past. Or run that queer transtesticle crap up the flagpole and try to get me to replay, so they can rewrite, the Q and A done by KS back in 1985.
They also try to get me to talk, in real life, to my mother about sex. Not happening. My immediate family weren't the kind of people who did that. When all else fails, when they can't get me to verify what I said back in 1985, or accepting their weird and ridiculous queer agenda, or talk to my mother about sex, they fall back on their old standby of suicide or calling me a child molestor to play out for their audience.
Haven't thought about being at X's house, and with real security cameras always recording, no one can take me there or come here, she's lying to people and saying that she was giving me German lessons at her house. Oh, no...they're not torturing me and harassing me and planning future failure through playing out their psychodramas, it was all about German lessons. They are full of such crap. They'll make me think of a German word or something along those lines and X is there corrrrrecting me and then it's, "See ve ver givink him the Cherman lesson." Liars.
And they still sit around waiting for me to beat off so X and sister J can put some idea of kids in my head while I'm watching some porn or something and then her other dupes, her sister OH are there to have some "proof" that I'm a pediaphile or whatever. X and her dupes just want to drag people down to her level, the rapist level.
I'm stil waiting for the rest of my Navy records, the ones with the reason for a medical discharge on them. I remember that night before I left for the Navy being over at X's house and I woke up in the middle of her "programming" saying to me, "And then you pull down the seargent's pants..." And going through her crap of introducing me to "Don't you remember your Uncle..." When I got up to leave, she asked me (and probably didn't have to say it out loud herself) "Do you remember vat ve takt about?" I thought of how guys used to avoid the draft by playing queer and I said, "No. I'm not going to do that. That's illegal."
But as I was leaving her house, and she said, real phony, "Enjoy yourrr new life," I wasn't leaving the way I went in, but towards the kitchen (where earlier she gave me something to drink. she put some drops of something in there, I saw the soda, I presume, ripple. she said, "doesn't everything taste better at (her) house")
When I was at the induction center in Cleveland, Right after induction, some Army guy came up to me and said, "Now we got you." The lady who inducted us waved him off and some people grabbed me from behind (didn't see them) and took me away. The lady just shrugged her shoulders at the Army guy.
They took me to a room and I was sitting in a chair. She told two guys to hold my arms. One of them said, "You know this is illegal." She said, "I don't care. Give him all of it." They held my arms down and gave me a shot in my right arm." Things got weird after that, will post about it soon. But I wonder,and this is probably true, that there at the induction center, what they woke up is what X and her family has been "programming" me with since 1985, and they were probably doing that since 1967 when X first did her child abuse on me and my sister G.
Definitely after she raped me an assaulted my mother in 1969, they have been on a campaign of screwing me over to make any victim and witness totally incompetent. I do believe that in real life, X had been caught, somebody knew she was a child molestor. In her own family, OH, her sister, has seen her handiwork.
It must have been in summer 1970 because I remember watching the Carpenter's show on their TV. I was upstairs in her son's bedroom and he said he was getting....uhh, aroused. So I offered to take care of it. And OH caught us, freaked out, and called her sister, X. So X and her husband came over there. X even had a big grocery bag full of her props that she had probably been using since 1967. Ha. Maybe she kept it by the door in case she had to go out on a call. Like a doctor's house call. Ha.
Anyway, X put me through the usual ritual of getting me drunk and there were some things like toys? maybe. So the subject of where I learned such behavior came up and I remember X's huband said it was the neighbor lady. He made some motions with his head, nodding in one direction, prompting me probably, because they mand me say the neighbor lady's name. A girl, actually she was, probably in her teens. And this is the same person F, whom I describe in the incident at the store in Aug 1985. The one with Fatso. I wonder if she knows, for real, that X has used her as a scapegoat for 42 years now.
So, that woman's name came up and OH, who was either doped up by X or drunk off her ass (both she and X were heavy alcoholics back then) and was just so sorry for us, and my, my, my. Too bad she didn't know, or was warned by X that it could happen, since X had been on her rampage less than a year before. I know CC wasn't reserved about mentioning it, although they do lie about the details of 1969, as to who did what, etc.
I remember we went over to X's house after the 1969 incident and a couple of CC's cousins were there also, and CC herded them into her room, but I couldn't go in. When they came out, those two girls were just staring at me. No doubt CC said something.
So, there it is about OH, who has recently been doing X's dirty work by pushing the queer agenda on me and all in all, she can't be trusted. First of all, X's main priority is to cover her own ass because X is a rapist and also cover her ass for screwing me over the day before the Navy thing. I never agreed to playing that queer card to get out of it. I went, I was inducted, and it was a failure. If they did wake up X's transtesticle crap, which she used on me in 1967, then who the hell knows what X wakes up.
Wouldn't trust OH. She's pushing that queer agenda at the direction of X most likely. OH doesn't even know the whole story, none of her dupes know the whole story. They're just told to say this or that, follow their scripts, carry on a conversation within my earshot and hope I react so they can say, "We're not talking to you," or, "See, he's crazy," or read a list of trigger words to me that, when I hear it later, I'll associate that word with whatever they have set up, be it remembering their idiotic contrived conversations.
When they say to me, "You will never be complete until you try to kill yourself for real," anyone can see they're just psychotic themselves. Or when X says that she will make sure that I go (die) before she does because no one is going to tell her son about her. I thought, then just take him with you when you go. But ironically, she's pushing him on me as an imaginary friend, creating some imaginary life that she controls, and FF is supposed to carry on this crap of hers after she's dead (unless I go first, as she said). No, what they want is FF to be around and close by when they need to play out the suicide thing because, after all, he's the one who took the gun from the side of my head and put it in my mouth to show me the right way. He must have been the one who gave me the gun since I don't own one and have never picked one up in my life. They want to play the same freak out games all the time.
At one time, years ago, they said, "This is the only way we can tell you the truth. You agreed to it." No. From what I hear, and I know it's not the same thing that her audience hears, they are just trying to cover the real truth with lies.
Like I thought before, I could have told anyone everything in 27 minutes, not the 27 years that it's taking those criminals and their freak show.
As a side note, OH's husband died recently and I couldn't have cared less. And I don't feel bad about not feeling bad.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
MAY 3, 2012
When was the last time you were jealous of anyone. I'm guessing for you it was probably when you were in your....teens aged years?
As for me, I would say at the ages between 10 and 12 (not counting the abusive episode from parent's friends when they trained me when I was 6 to want a dress as my sister had--anything to make their victims look looney, even at that age).
When I was 10, this girl at the grade school got this huge, furry coat. I wanted one and I saw the coat at the store. I put it on, and my dad said no, and that was that. Not really jealous of her for having the coat...Don't know where the hell I'm going with this, but what the hell. More angry at not getting the coat than at the one who had one.
Have you had any of the jealousy problem? The green eyed monster, isn't it called? My eyes are green, so I had better stop.
If I were angry at her for having a coat, would that be jealousy? I don't think so, but what are your feelings on jealousy?
When I was about 12 would be a real feeling of jealousy. It did involve that sister who is two years older than I and the one involved in the dress training thing. Since we were close in age, we both got new clothes when the school year began and at Christmas we got a lot of games meant for both of us. Board games and the like, sleds, etc. I remember we both got watches one year. Mine froze outside in the cold very early on.
Anyway, when I got to be about 12 and she 14, she got some grown up gifts and I didn't I wanted some grown up gifts. It didn't last long, though. Just that one Christmas, and when she got a jacket from a neighbor that I would have liked.
I can't recall any phsical feeling associated with jealousy. Do you have that?
I know. I know. Don't covet thy neighbor's ass. Especially if they are all ass. Uh...something like that.
As for me, I would say at the ages between 10 and 12 (not counting the abusive episode from parent's friends when they trained me when I was 6 to want a dress as my sister had--anything to make their victims look looney, even at that age).
When I was 10, this girl at the grade school got this huge, furry coat. I wanted one and I saw the coat at the store. I put it on, and my dad said no, and that was that. Not really jealous of her for having the coat...Don't know where the hell I'm going with this, but what the hell. More angry at not getting the coat than at the one who had one.
Have you had any of the jealousy problem? The green eyed monster, isn't it called? My eyes are green, so I had better stop.
If I were angry at her for having a coat, would that be jealousy? I don't think so, but what are your feelings on jealousy?
When I was about 12 would be a real feeling of jealousy. It did involve that sister who is two years older than I and the one involved in the dress training thing. Since we were close in age, we both got new clothes when the school year began and at Christmas we got a lot of games meant for both of us. Board games and the like, sleds, etc. I remember we both got watches one year. Mine froze outside in the cold very early on.
Anyway, when I got to be about 12 and she 14, she got some grown up gifts and I didn't I wanted some grown up gifts. It didn't last long, though. Just that one Christmas, and when she got a jacket from a neighbor that I would have liked.
I can't recall any phsical feeling associated with jealousy. Do you have that?
I know. I know. Don't covet thy neighbor's ass. Especially if they are all ass. Uh...something like that.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
MARCH 17, 2012
March 17, 2012 9:51 pm EDT
From the forum.
Hello,
It's 7:30 pm here and it's still 76 degrees F. And it's still winter. Didn't have much of a winter here, the grass didn't even go dormant, and I wonder how the fruit trees are going to do this year since they haven't had that six weeks or so of a hard freeze they need to set decent fruit.
I had no idea the Exorcist was banned in England. I can't think of any reason for that other than a religious aspect. It was the thing to do here back in 1972 or 73 when it first came out. It was a bragging right to say that you stood in line for hours to see it.
Yeah, I hated what they did to Fred, but Ilyria was OK only because of the actress. Angel plays here on a cable channel, two episodes a day, so you can watch the whole series in a couple of months. I turn off the last ten minutes or so of that episode where Fred dies. Reminded me of when they killed off Doyle. I liked Doyle. I did hate the Cordelia dies/Jasmine story line. Too bad they didn't keep Cordelia until the end of the series.
---The saddest thing about the scripting is I had not even slightly realised until yesterday this was in fact me roll-playing with "voice". ---
I usually fall asleep quickly, out like a light from one minute to the next. Many times, when I close my eyes to sleep, I see images. I wouldn't call them hallucinations, since they only occur with my eyes closed, but they are images of people I don't know, sometimes they mouth words to me, but most times they are not in motion at all. Many times I am given, or, since this has been going on for so long, that I know that I'm supposed to copy their mannerisms, or they serve as "what does this remind you of?" images. They only last for seconds at a time, and I can make it stop by opening my eyes. But, I have to close my eyes eventualy to sleep. It's like a photographic/motion picture version of a Rorschach test. I'd rather look at ink blots.
This leads me to the version of scripting and role playing I have going on. I'm not in charge of any of the role playing. Last year or so, I did have the images I describe above and in this snippet I was with some woman and her son. I knew them in real life and I do not like them at all. I can't stress that enough. So the woman was in front of me and her son (I did not see her, but I know she was there) and she said that they were going to crown me King. And her son started to put a crown on my head and I pushed it away and said, "Oh, no. Let F__ be King." She said, "No. He can't be King." I looked, and realized the crown was one of those cardboard crowns they pass out at the Burger King restaurants. And I thought to myself, "It's just the usual pyschodramas they play out just to make me look like a fool." Grandeur is not a delusion I've ever had.
So, where does this come from? Was I remembering something they did for real and only, as they love to prompt, remember it "as a dream"? I wouldn't have anything to do with those two people in real life. I wouldn't choose a scenario as that. I do remember, and always have, refusing to be King in real life. In grade six, at age 11. We studied the Medieval period, as much as 11 year olds could grasp. We learned there were Kings, knights and serfs. The teacher asked the class, "Who here could be King?" Eventually she pointed to me and said, or asked me, that I should be King. I said no, I'd rather be a serf.
She was surprised and we went through the why not? I said I didn't want to be in charge. And that lead to the "avoiding responsibility" lecture, etc. Then she asked, and I'm paraphrasing after 40 years, "Who wants to be King?" Some other kid said he would. Then she went on with the "Does everyone see the difference? The one who could be King doesn't want to and the one who..." In effect, she was saying that the other kid was only capable of serfdom. I was embarassed. I felt sorry for the other kid even at the time. In effect she called him dumb.
That's one version of role playing/scripting I have. Very different from yours, I would say, since you are in charge of the scripting to some extent and I am not. I'm just there as a prop or a "what would you do" sort of test or harassment. Mostly just harassment to me. They also have the scripting/role playing regarding the future.
I was thinking that eventually I would move into a trailer and live alone. So again, as a dream, I'm walking through a mobile home, as if I were looking to move there, and then some guy said, "This is your bathroom." I looked and it was F___ , the guy from the "let's crown the fool king with a cardboard crown" incident described above. I looked and thought, "Knock it off. I know what you're doing. If I do move into a trailer, the thought of you will be here, and I won't have it." The voices have always wanted me to accept them as "guidance." Well, with the guides they want me to follow, they only want to guide me into future failure.
This is why I'm so adamant about giving any of these voices or imaginings any credibility at all. Guided by people whom I don't like. Guided in playing out psychodramas with no sort of "debriefing period" and remembered later. Guided in playing out the future. Well, it aint therapy and mostly what they do is harassment and the general "you can't be yourself." I remember that woman saying to me once, when I wanted to get away from her and what they do, "You never going to get out of here until you change your mind."
You mentioned doubt. Doubt and skepticism is fine and necessary in the intellectual, learning realm. But when it comes to your life, and what you know for real, what happened to you and when, there is no room for doubt. Like I said before, the voices will tell you this or that happened when you know it never did, and they'll tell you that you're really this or that. If it's true, it's true, and if it aint, it aint, and there's nothing they can say to make it true.
Last night I noticed another intrusive thought triggered by a word I heard. I was listening to a talk show on the radio as I was driving around delivering. I was hearing their usual "screw up while working" diatribes and I half heard some guy on the radio say "....study-- **I WAS STUDYING MAGIC IN COLLEGE** -- ...studying blah blah." And I thought, "There's one (intrusive thought)" The intrusive thought is in capitalized in the quote above. It was in a woman's voice. I thought of the Harry Potter kind of magic, not the Houdini stuff. I just thought, "What? Am I supposed to repeat that out loud somewhere to sound like a fool?" There wasn't an answer to that. I just brush it off.
I just wanted to tell you how scripting/role playing goes on with me. I don't think of them as any valid thoughts of mine because I never choose the subject. I'm just there in the middle of it. It's been a tactic of "theirs" for a long time. A tired and played out (pun intended) harassment technique of theirs.
It is now 9:48 pm EDT.
From the forum.
Hello,
It's 7:30 pm here and it's still 76 degrees F. And it's still winter. Didn't have much of a winter here, the grass didn't even go dormant, and I wonder how the fruit trees are going to do this year since they haven't had that six weeks or so of a hard freeze they need to set decent fruit.
I had no idea the Exorcist was banned in England. I can't think of any reason for that other than a religious aspect. It was the thing to do here back in 1972 or 73 when it first came out. It was a bragging right to say that you stood in line for hours to see it.
Yeah, I hated what they did to Fred, but Ilyria was OK only because of the actress. Angel plays here on a cable channel, two episodes a day, so you can watch the whole series in a couple of months. I turn off the last ten minutes or so of that episode where Fred dies. Reminded me of when they killed off Doyle. I liked Doyle. I did hate the Cordelia dies/Jasmine story line. Too bad they didn't keep Cordelia until the end of the series.
---The saddest thing about the scripting is I had not even slightly realised until yesterday this was in fact me roll-playing with "voice". ---
I usually fall asleep quickly, out like a light from one minute to the next. Many times, when I close my eyes to sleep, I see images. I wouldn't call them hallucinations, since they only occur with my eyes closed, but they are images of people I don't know, sometimes they mouth words to me, but most times they are not in motion at all. Many times I am given, or, since this has been going on for so long, that I know that I'm supposed to copy their mannerisms, or they serve as "what does this remind you of?" images. They only last for seconds at a time, and I can make it stop by opening my eyes. But, I have to close my eyes eventualy to sleep. It's like a photographic/motion picture version of a Rorschach test. I'd rather look at ink blots.
This leads me to the version of scripting and role playing I have going on. I'm not in charge of any of the role playing. Last year or so, I did have the images I describe above and in this snippet I was with some woman and her son. I knew them in real life and I do not like them at all. I can't stress that enough. So the woman was in front of me and her son (I did not see her, but I know she was there) and she said that they were going to crown me King. And her son started to put a crown on my head and I pushed it away and said, "Oh, no. Let F__ be King." She said, "No. He can't be King." I looked, and realized the crown was one of those cardboard crowns they pass out at the Burger King restaurants. And I thought to myself, "It's just the usual pyschodramas they play out just to make me look like a fool." Grandeur is not a delusion I've ever had.
So, where does this come from? Was I remembering something they did for real and only, as they love to prompt, remember it "as a dream"? I wouldn't have anything to do with those two people in real life. I wouldn't choose a scenario as that. I do remember, and always have, refusing to be King in real life. In grade six, at age 11. We studied the Medieval period, as much as 11 year olds could grasp. We learned there were Kings, knights and serfs. The teacher asked the class, "Who here could be King?" Eventually she pointed to me and said, or asked me, that I should be King. I said no, I'd rather be a serf.
She was surprised and we went through the why not? I said I didn't want to be in charge. And that lead to the "avoiding responsibility" lecture, etc. Then she asked, and I'm paraphrasing after 40 years, "Who wants to be King?" Some other kid said he would. Then she went on with the "Does everyone see the difference? The one who could be King doesn't want to and the one who..." In effect, she was saying that the other kid was only capable of serfdom. I was embarassed. I felt sorry for the other kid even at the time. In effect she called him dumb.
That's one version of role playing/scripting I have. Very different from yours, I would say, since you are in charge of the scripting to some extent and I am not. I'm just there as a prop or a "what would you do" sort of test or harassment. Mostly just harassment to me. They also have the scripting/role playing regarding the future.
I was thinking that eventually I would move into a trailer and live alone. So again, as a dream, I'm walking through a mobile home, as if I were looking to move there, and then some guy said, "This is your bathroom." I looked and it was F___ , the guy from the "let's crown the fool king with a cardboard crown" incident described above. I looked and thought, "Knock it off. I know what you're doing. If I do move into a trailer, the thought of you will be here, and I won't have it." The voices have always wanted me to accept them as "guidance." Well, with the guides they want me to follow, they only want to guide me into future failure.
This is why I'm so adamant about giving any of these voices or imaginings any credibility at all. Guided by people whom I don't like. Guided in playing out psychodramas with no sort of "debriefing period" and remembered later. Guided in playing out the future. Well, it aint therapy and mostly what they do is harassment and the general "you can't be yourself." I remember that woman saying to me once, when I wanted to get away from her and what they do, "You never going to get out of here until you change your mind."
You mentioned doubt. Doubt and skepticism is fine and necessary in the intellectual, learning realm. But when it comes to your life, and what you know for real, what happened to you and when, there is no room for doubt. Like I said before, the voices will tell you this or that happened when you know it never did, and they'll tell you that you're really this or that. If it's true, it's true, and if it aint, it aint, and there's nothing they can say to make it true.
Last night I noticed another intrusive thought triggered by a word I heard. I was listening to a talk show on the radio as I was driving around delivering. I was hearing their usual "screw up while working" diatribes and I half heard some guy on the radio say "....study-- **I WAS STUDYING MAGIC IN COLLEGE** -- ...studying blah blah." And I thought, "There's one (intrusive thought)" The intrusive thought is in capitalized in the quote above. It was in a woman's voice. I thought of the Harry Potter kind of magic, not the Houdini stuff. I just thought, "What? Am I supposed to repeat that out loud somewhere to sound like a fool?" There wasn't an answer to that. I just brush it off.
I just wanted to tell you how scripting/role playing goes on with me. I don't think of them as any valid thoughts of mine because I never choose the subject. I'm just there in the middle of it. It's been a tactic of "theirs" for a long time. A tired and played out (pun intended) harassment technique of theirs.
It is now 9:48 pm EDT.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
ANOTHER POST FROM A FORUM
MARCH 15, 2012 6:49PM EDT
QUESTION:
A member of the forum asked how comfortable people who chat in the forums feel about it: scared because it may feel forced onto them, is there a vulnerability factor, is being unknown make it easier?
I feel very comfortable sharing my life with the sz here because where else can I find people with the same experiences? And some of them are almost exactly my symptoms. It's different here than discussion or one on one talks, because you can chose to read about the topics you want to read about and when you want. And it doesn't take long before you've read a very wide range of topics.
You mentioned that maybe real life forces us to come here. If you mean in the sense that there are limited ways to get help and those ways might not suit everyone, so people come here-- I'd say that I don't feel forced at all. But, I have blogged about my real life for over a year. I started that because of not being able to go out and talk to people face to face. And, on the chance that I freak out real bad, my blog is the first place with my history to start any therapy. I grew up around a lot of abusive people who chose to harass their children into telling lies about real life events.
So, I started blogging the truth. I'm not going to be in the position of needing help someday and the only people who will control what help is given are the people who started the problems in the first place. I have nothing to do with those abusive people nowadays, but I'll be damned if they are going to come around and tell any professional help their versions of the "truth" or have the last word on what my life was and is now.
I finished most of my blog. There's just a few important things left to say there. If a subject comes up here in the forum that fits my situation, I'll write about it on my blog. When I slowed down on the blogging, I thought, "What now? Go back to lying in bed, listening to the non stop harassment for hours?" It goes on, but I'm not lying down. So, I came here. To me, it would've seemed like a step backward to stop telling?saying? what is going on with me.
**A voice just said, "I don't need you blogging." That's the one that says she's my real conscience or she wants me to accept her as a guide. I don't accept them as anything but harassment. If there's such a thing as the Voice's Court she should be tried for failing so many times and be dealt with accordingly. And no, I'm not going to start a Voice's Court. Ha.**
The vulnerability factor for me is very low. I have nothing to lose. As for anonymity on the Internet, I have a cousin who has the same name as I do. It's an uncommon name and I don't want anyone to confuse him with me. Sometimes, after a death threat from a voice, I think, "Well make sure you got the right person. I'd hate for you to mistake him for me."
If you mean that telling about myself (or telling on myself, as the case may be) is easier to do because no one would know who I am, I really don't care much about it because I've already blogged about it
QUESTION:
A member of the forum asked how comfortable people who chat in the forums feel about it: scared because it may feel forced onto them, is there a vulnerability factor, is being unknown make it easier?
I feel very comfortable sharing my life with the sz here because where else can I find people with the same experiences? And some of them are almost exactly my symptoms. It's different here than discussion or one on one talks, because you can chose to read about the topics you want to read about and when you want. And it doesn't take long before you've read a very wide range of topics.
You mentioned that maybe real life forces us to come here. If you mean in the sense that there are limited ways to get help and those ways might not suit everyone, so people come here-- I'd say that I don't feel forced at all. But, I have blogged about my real life for over a year. I started that because of not being able to go out and talk to people face to face. And, on the chance that I freak out real bad, my blog is the first place with my history to start any therapy. I grew up around a lot of abusive people who chose to harass their children into telling lies about real life events.
So, I started blogging the truth. I'm not going to be in the position of needing help someday and the only people who will control what help is given are the people who started the problems in the first place. I have nothing to do with those abusive people nowadays, but I'll be damned if they are going to come around and tell any professional help their versions of the "truth" or have the last word on what my life was and is now.
I finished most of my blog. There's just a few important things left to say there. If a subject comes up here in the forum that fits my situation, I'll write about it on my blog. When I slowed down on the blogging, I thought, "What now? Go back to lying in bed, listening to the non stop harassment for hours?" It goes on, but I'm not lying down. So, I came here. To me, it would've seemed like a step backward to stop telling?saying? what is going on with me.
**A voice just said, "I don't need you blogging." That's the one that says she's my real conscience or she wants me to accept her as a guide. I don't accept them as anything but harassment. If there's such a thing as the Voice's Court she should be tried for failing so many times and be dealt with accordingly. And no, I'm not going to start a Voice's Court. Ha.**
The vulnerability factor for me is very low. I have nothing to lose. As for anonymity on the Internet, I have a cousin who has the same name as I do. It's an uncommon name and I don't want anyone to confuse him with me. Sometimes, after a death threat from a voice, I think, "Well make sure you got the right person. I'd hate for you to mistake him for me."
If you mean that telling about myself (or telling on myself, as the case may be) is easier to do because no one would know who I am, I really don't care much about it because I've already blogged about it
POSTS FROM A FORUM
MARCH 15, 2012 3:14PM EDT
QUESTION:
I ask my daughter this who has been within psychosis for a few years now and she can't answer.. she just said one it was like one day she awoke and a whole new reality was revealed to her and she felt in immense control for a little while... but then it started becoming dark and overwhelming and the next thing she knows she was flying under a bench in the middle of public from the sound of helicopter blades, shouting to be left alone or trashing her room for cameras and devices trying to escape from the voices in her head, she just says for a little while its bearable but quickly goes beyond her control like nothing she ever experiences, but even in clear mind she cannot answer as to when it directly started.
I find this interesting really and I was just curious if any of you could answer specifically how it started for you or if similarly its just a blur to you?
On other news for me, im very pleased that my daughter is finally (3 years late though, which I feel is criminal as she could have been treated and not have such residual and chronic affect from it all but its better late than never) she is being formally assessed for schizophrenia so with any luck it will be the start of proper and effective treatment to get her stable again. I am so glad that after 4 psychiatrists the one she is under now actually listened and is getting her sorted its a shame she's leaving I think it will throw my daughter as its the one doctor she has grown any repore with, I just hope the one taking her on will be just as patient and considerate. Sorry I felt the need to tell someone at my relief this is finally happening, me and my daughter are a team and there is no point in me talking to my family about it so I hope you don't mind me telling you, I hope you are all well and taking care of yourselves, my thoughts go out to you all.
MY RESPONSE:
Hello,
Sorry your daughter and you were having a hard time. It's never easy for anyone. Looking back, after 27 years, it started for me Oct 1984. I found myself standing at the foot of my grandmother's hospital bed and there were three friends of my parents standing by the bed looking at me. I wondered, "How did I get here and what are those people doing here?" I could not tolerate those people in real life (not my grandmother, those others). At the time, I knew it was different than normal dreaming, but I chalked it up as a dream.
By spring 1985, when I was 25, I had consistent symptoms. Hearing people outside my bedroom door talking to me, a little paranoia, the voices, etc. I had a bad episode in Aug 1985 which I consider to be the total takeover of my life by the sz, since it was the worst episode I've had, even to this day. I was diagnosed in April 1986, by the Navy. I had enlisted, went to induction, had a severe episode, was discharged. The strange thing about that is that I have my enlistment documents, but I don't have any discharge papers or medical reports in my possession (I'm in the process, just now, tracking down who has the copies that I should have). I just chalked that one up to another failure and went on with my life.
So, I guess the sz came on, from warning signs to full blown sz, in less than a year. It may seem like it came on from one day to the next, but there probably were indications before that, but I'm only guessing. I've read on this forum that onset for other people took anywhere from a few months to 2 years. It's different for everybody. As long as I've had this, it is still intolerable, especially when real life people go out of their way to exacerbate the condition (and some people do). But, I get by.
The only advice that I would have for you and/or your daughter is to be discriminating with who you tell. Especially if you are uncertain of a plan of action yourself. If someone doesn't need to know, then don't let them know
ANOTHER POST
Quote from a poster:
"...I feel that I am connecting with people from my past and when I do they attempt to have a normal conversation with me, but my mind has been through so much trauma I attack them and cut the connection off or try to by repeating the same words over and over until they would be annoyed enough to leave. I can't go anywhere because of this. It is a horrible existence."
MY RESPONSE:
I know what you mean by this. The voices I have are abusive people from my past (who I don't have anything to do with in decades in real life). The voices just keep lying about themselves, get me to respond and take my responses and use them to "prove" that I am agreeing with them. Or try to change me into something I'm not, or get me to believer that I am getting special therapy through their voices in order for me to be competent. And on and on. I argue back, call them names, do anything but agree with them. I like to think, "Hey, I'm only thinking. I can think anything I want."
I'm not one for telepathy, but I did try to figure out how any real people got me to start thinking this way. I always figured that they were taking me out of the house while I was sleeping, taking me to somebody's house where they generally mentally abused me, played psychodramas with me, "woke up" problems and had them analyzed by quack pdocs, and scheduled my real waking hours with "then you do that and then you do that," create new associations with words or actions, and play out fake "personalities" or imitations of people they'll pass off as the "real me," and also put on post hypnotic suggestions. Then, they'd take me back home and tell me to just remember all they did "as a dream," "you're only dreamng."
I've had the sz for 27 years, so they've had enough time to load me up with a lot of their nonsense. I put in security cameras about a year and a half ago, and no one is taking me out of the house or coming in without being recorded. But the mental harassment by the voices continues, and like you said, it is a horrible existence
QUESTION:
I ask my daughter this who has been within psychosis for a few years now and she can't answer.. she just said one it was like one day she awoke and a whole new reality was revealed to her and she felt in immense control for a little while... but then it started becoming dark and overwhelming and the next thing she knows she was flying under a bench in the middle of public from the sound of helicopter blades, shouting to be left alone or trashing her room for cameras and devices trying to escape from the voices in her head, she just says for a little while its bearable but quickly goes beyond her control like nothing she ever experiences, but even in clear mind she cannot answer as to when it directly started.
I find this interesting really and I was just curious if any of you could answer specifically how it started for you or if similarly its just a blur to you?
On other news for me, im very pleased that my daughter is finally (3 years late though, which I feel is criminal as she could have been treated and not have such residual and chronic affect from it all but its better late than never) she is being formally assessed for schizophrenia so with any luck it will be the start of proper and effective treatment to get her stable again. I am so glad that after 4 psychiatrists the one she is under now actually listened and is getting her sorted its a shame she's leaving I think it will throw my daughter as its the one doctor she has grown any repore with, I just hope the one taking her on will be just as patient and considerate. Sorry I felt the need to tell someone at my relief this is finally happening, me and my daughter are a team and there is no point in me talking to my family about it so I hope you don't mind me telling you, I hope you are all well and taking care of yourselves, my thoughts go out to you all.
MY RESPONSE:
Hello,
Sorry your daughter and you were having a hard time. It's never easy for anyone. Looking back, after 27 years, it started for me Oct 1984. I found myself standing at the foot of my grandmother's hospital bed and there were three friends of my parents standing by the bed looking at me. I wondered, "How did I get here and what are those people doing here?" I could not tolerate those people in real life (not my grandmother, those others). At the time, I knew it was different than normal dreaming, but I chalked it up as a dream.
By spring 1985, when I was 25, I had consistent symptoms. Hearing people outside my bedroom door talking to me, a little paranoia, the voices, etc. I had a bad episode in Aug 1985 which I consider to be the total takeover of my life by the sz, since it was the worst episode I've had, even to this day. I was diagnosed in April 1986, by the Navy. I had enlisted, went to induction, had a severe episode, was discharged. The strange thing about that is that I have my enlistment documents, but I don't have any discharge papers or medical reports in my possession (I'm in the process, just now, tracking down who has the copies that I should have). I just chalked that one up to another failure and went on with my life.
So, I guess the sz came on, from warning signs to full blown sz, in less than a year. It may seem like it came on from one day to the next, but there probably were indications before that, but I'm only guessing. I've read on this forum that onset for other people took anywhere from a few months to 2 years. It's different for everybody. As long as I've had this, it is still intolerable, especially when real life people go out of their way to exacerbate the condition (and some people do). But, I get by.
The only advice that I would have for you and/or your daughter is to be discriminating with who you tell. Especially if you are uncertain of a plan of action yourself. If someone doesn't need to know, then don't let them know
ANOTHER POST
Quote from a poster:
"...I feel that I am connecting with people from my past and when I do they attempt to have a normal conversation with me, but my mind has been through so much trauma I attack them and cut the connection off or try to by repeating the same words over and over until they would be annoyed enough to leave. I can't go anywhere because of this. It is a horrible existence."
MY RESPONSE:
I know what you mean by this. The voices I have are abusive people from my past (who I don't have anything to do with in decades in real life). The voices just keep lying about themselves, get me to respond and take my responses and use them to "prove" that I am agreeing with them. Or try to change me into something I'm not, or get me to believer that I am getting special therapy through their voices in order for me to be competent. And on and on. I argue back, call them names, do anything but agree with them. I like to think, "Hey, I'm only thinking. I can think anything I want."
I'm not one for telepathy, but I did try to figure out how any real people got me to start thinking this way. I always figured that they were taking me out of the house while I was sleeping, taking me to somebody's house where they generally mentally abused me, played psychodramas with me, "woke up" problems and had them analyzed by quack pdocs, and scheduled my real waking hours with "then you do that and then you do that," create new associations with words or actions, and play out fake "personalities" or imitations of people they'll pass off as the "real me," and also put on post hypnotic suggestions. Then, they'd take me back home and tell me to just remember all they did "as a dream," "you're only dreamng."
I've had the sz for 27 years, so they've had enough time to load me up with a lot of their nonsense. I put in security cameras about a year and a half ago, and no one is taking me out of the house or coming in without being recorded. But the mental harassment by the voices continues, and like you said, it is a horrible existence
Sunday, March 11, 2012
MARCH 11, 2012
I'm trying to get to sleep, but the voices keep screaming at me about going on forums and writing out how I live and reporting on what I think. So, I come here.
A negative hallucination is when you don't see something that is there in reality. I've had them. Back in 1985 when the sz was getting bad, I used to see, or hallucinate this one guy. I called him Fatso. A short, squat guy, beard, bandana, etc. Anyway, I was in my bedroom and went into the bathroom, came out and went to the mirror in my room. That guy said, or I just looked without him saying so, but there I was in front of the mirror. I couldn't see a reflection.
This is what it looks like. You see an outline of the person, in this case. You can discern the stature of the person. But where that person should be is a distorted view that your brain makes up because it tries to fill in the blank with what it almost knows should be there. And the things in the outline are shimmering, like you are seeing something through a piece of glass with a sheet of water running down it. And as the person moves, you can follow the outline as it moves in front of you. Basically, the person is cut out of your reality and filled in with a distorted, but similar, image of the general surroundings.
So, I looked in the mirror and couldn't see me. I stretched out an arm and waved it up and down. I laughed and the guy, who was behind me, but not in sight of the mirror, laughed, too. I said to the guy, "Ha.I'm a vampire. Cool trick." I was not a vampire and didn't believe it. I wasn't scared because I knew what it was right off the bat when I noticed it.
In 1985, I had already endured a lot of symptoms that I have now. I kept trying to look for some way to calm down, remember stuff, and just in general tried to stop feeling bad. The local newspaper had a story on hypnosis. I thought it was interesting and bought a book about it. A basic book, with what it is, how it's done, etc. The two things that I picked up on first was that the subconscious is literal. It takes things literally. The other thing was about post hypnotic suggestions, how long they last, etc. And self hypnosis.
So, negative hallucinations were mentioned in this little book (the basic information on hypmosis isn't much reading) didn't describe what people not-see, but it was just a mention in the context of those stage hypnotists. Stage hypnotists make people pretend to see things and react to them, and even make people temporarily forget their name. And the opposite is true, you can be made to not-see things that are there.
I see myself in the mirror now, of course, with no problem. Another event about mirrors that I should mention is in real life as a teen (8 or 9 years before the sz) I had lost about 60 pounds in a short period of time. I was at the store, turned into an aisle, and sort of jumped. There was a person in front of me, I almost ran into him. Then I looked and it took a few seconds for me to realize that I was looking at myself. I had turned into the aisle where the mirrors were and had almost walked into a full length mirror. That was the first time I had seen myself full length after losing all that weight, and yes, it could only happen to me, as the saying goes, I literally did not recognize myself. It was funny.
Another negative hallucination was about the same time in 1985. I was sitting at home on the couch. Not doing anything. There were relatives in the house--almost the last time we have all been together, really. So I'm sitting there and the vase with flowers on the stereo console on the other side of the room moved by itself from one side to the other. A relative came out of the kitchen and pointed to the stereo and said, "Did you see that? It's a spirit (or ghost)." I was totally unimpressed. I said, "No. Somebody I can't see pushed it." And I looked and found the outline of the person, a large person, and pointed it out and followed it as it walked towards the next room. Nothing scary. The relative that said it was a ghost went back to the kitchen and I heard her say, "See. I told you he wasn't going to fall for it." Or something along those lines, they (people in the kitchen) were just not too happy that I didn't fall for the spirits thingie.
A negative hallucination induced by another real live person? Absolutely yes. She pointed out the vase had moved. Evidently we both saw it, she's not sz as far as I know. It was just a head game played on me by people. When I was said it was somebody that was just a not-see (as I call them) and couldn't have cared less, nothing was said about it. That's the way it always was back then.In 1985 I had already been through about six months or so of hearing a lot of, "It's just in your head." So, by then I didn't ask for any explanations and they weren't giving me any.
I hesitated to bring up negative hallucinations because that's a very serious symptom. It is really harsh. I knew of them from reading about them, and induced twice. The vampire thing with that guy, Fatso, and the vase thing with a real participant, a relative. But, if it happens to someone who has never heard of them, then they could get frightened.
However, you have to see something first and told by someone to not see it. Your brain has to recognize the thing you're told not to see to blank it out and fill in the blank with a distorted view of the general surroundings. It is that way in my case--induced by a real person. But, if someone experienced a severe trauma, I think the brain could blank out some object as a means of self defense. It wants to spare the victim from having to deal with it. I have wondered about how the trauma induced negative hallucination could ever be solved if the trauma victim doesn't realize what it is they don't see, and even if they could notice the distorted view right in front of them.
I did do some self hypnosis and it is different from sleep or even just meditation. I've done things like just start thinking about something and let it go on its own. Like taking tour through my aunt's house, where they lived 40 years ago. I just started at the driveway and remembered the lawn, things that happened on the lawn, the driveway with the tall trees lining it, the porch and things that happened there, through each room of the house and what furniture, what pictures and on and on. I've maintained this for.. I think two hours is the longest time I can recall. It's an interesting trick.
I just let it run and it really calls up memories. Sometimes I'll want to remember more information about something and I'll start and then the part I want to know is recalled and even if that's all I wanted to know, I find that the timeline keeps running in the background for a while. I do not hear any voices as it happens, but I can recall conversations. I can distinctly tell that it is different from the voices that run 24/7. The voices I have are separated into right and left side. I've read on here that it is the same for others, too. The recall happens directly in the middle of my head. Images with my eyes closed and the sounds of the recollection comes from the center of my head.
I have the voices with constant interrogation going on, and one time I told them that we've been through this before and I'm going to put myself under and ignore you. They said that I couldn't do it, because I need them, etc. and I told them they're not doing me any good anyway, you're just setting me up is what it sounds like to me, etc. So, I just laid back and started. I thought for years about the doctors office I was in. I always remembered some guy, a pdoc that I didn't know, telling me to look to my right, look to my left, and then look straight ahead. Then some skinny woman in black walks between us saying, "He'll never figure it out."
So, I went back, told myself to start at a place five minutes before the doctor told me to look right, left, straight ahead. I wanted to see if there was anything else I could remember about that. And I did. When it came to the part that he said look to the right, I did a triple take, not just looking once as I had always remembered it, and I saw the face of a woman with garish makeup blowing me a kiss. I looked to the right, and I felt like one of my sisters. That was weird. I looked straight ahead. The woman walked by with the wallet like thing she clapped closed and said her usual line, He'll never figure it out. Then another new thing was the doctor, or whatever he was, pointed at the same time at either side of me and said, "See. It's the same thing." Don't know and don't really care what that means. The left right straight ahead thing, I used to think it meant past(left) and future(right) and straight ahead was now.
A negative hallucination is when you don't see something that is there in reality. I've had them. Back in 1985 when the sz was getting bad, I used to see, or hallucinate this one guy. I called him Fatso. A short, squat guy, beard, bandana, etc. Anyway, I was in my bedroom and went into the bathroom, came out and went to the mirror in my room. That guy said, or I just looked without him saying so, but there I was in front of the mirror. I couldn't see a reflection.
This is what it looks like. You see an outline of the person, in this case. You can discern the stature of the person. But where that person should be is a distorted view that your brain makes up because it tries to fill in the blank with what it almost knows should be there. And the things in the outline are shimmering, like you are seeing something through a piece of glass with a sheet of water running down it. And as the person moves, you can follow the outline as it moves in front of you. Basically, the person is cut out of your reality and filled in with a distorted, but similar, image of the general surroundings.
So, I looked in the mirror and couldn't see me. I stretched out an arm and waved it up and down. I laughed and the guy, who was behind me, but not in sight of the mirror, laughed, too. I said to the guy, "Ha.I'm a vampire. Cool trick." I was not a vampire and didn't believe it. I wasn't scared because I knew what it was right off the bat when I noticed it.
In 1985, I had already endured a lot of symptoms that I have now. I kept trying to look for some way to calm down, remember stuff, and just in general tried to stop feeling bad. The local newspaper had a story on hypnosis. I thought it was interesting and bought a book about it. A basic book, with what it is, how it's done, etc. The two things that I picked up on first was that the subconscious is literal. It takes things literally. The other thing was about post hypnotic suggestions, how long they last, etc. And self hypnosis.
So, negative hallucinations were mentioned in this little book (the basic information on hypmosis isn't much reading) didn't describe what people not-see, but it was just a mention in the context of those stage hypnotists. Stage hypnotists make people pretend to see things and react to them, and even make people temporarily forget their name. And the opposite is true, you can be made to not-see things that are there.
I see myself in the mirror now, of course, with no problem. Another event about mirrors that I should mention is in real life as a teen (8 or 9 years before the sz) I had lost about 60 pounds in a short period of time. I was at the store, turned into an aisle, and sort of jumped. There was a person in front of me, I almost ran into him. Then I looked and it took a few seconds for me to realize that I was looking at myself. I had turned into the aisle where the mirrors were and had almost walked into a full length mirror. That was the first time I had seen myself full length after losing all that weight, and yes, it could only happen to me, as the saying goes, I literally did not recognize myself. It was funny.
Another negative hallucination was about the same time in 1985. I was sitting at home on the couch. Not doing anything. There were relatives in the house--almost the last time we have all been together, really. So I'm sitting there and the vase with flowers on the stereo console on the other side of the room moved by itself from one side to the other. A relative came out of the kitchen and pointed to the stereo and said, "Did you see that? It's a spirit (or ghost)." I was totally unimpressed. I said, "No. Somebody I can't see pushed it." And I looked and found the outline of the person, a large person, and pointed it out and followed it as it walked towards the next room. Nothing scary. The relative that said it was a ghost went back to the kitchen and I heard her say, "See. I told you he wasn't going to fall for it." Or something along those lines, they (people in the kitchen) were just not too happy that I didn't fall for the spirits thingie.
A negative hallucination induced by another real live person? Absolutely yes. She pointed out the vase had moved. Evidently we both saw it, she's not sz as far as I know. It was just a head game played on me by people. When I was said it was somebody that was just a not-see (as I call them) and couldn't have cared less, nothing was said about it. That's the way it always was back then.In 1985 I had already been through about six months or so of hearing a lot of, "It's just in your head." So, by then I didn't ask for any explanations and they weren't giving me any.
I hesitated to bring up negative hallucinations because that's a very serious symptom. It is really harsh. I knew of them from reading about them, and induced twice. The vampire thing with that guy, Fatso, and the vase thing with a real participant, a relative. But, if it happens to someone who has never heard of them, then they could get frightened.
However, you have to see something first and told by someone to not see it. Your brain has to recognize the thing you're told not to see to blank it out and fill in the blank with a distorted view of the general surroundings. It is that way in my case--induced by a real person. But, if someone experienced a severe trauma, I think the brain could blank out some object as a means of self defense. It wants to spare the victim from having to deal with it. I have wondered about how the trauma induced negative hallucination could ever be solved if the trauma victim doesn't realize what it is they don't see, and even if they could notice the distorted view right in front of them.
I did do some self hypnosis and it is different from sleep or even just meditation. I've done things like just start thinking about something and let it go on its own. Like taking tour through my aunt's house, where they lived 40 years ago. I just started at the driveway and remembered the lawn, things that happened on the lawn, the driveway with the tall trees lining it, the porch and things that happened there, through each room of the house and what furniture, what pictures and on and on. I've maintained this for.. I think two hours is the longest time I can recall. It's an interesting trick.
I just let it run and it really calls up memories. Sometimes I'll want to remember more information about something and I'll start and then the part I want to know is recalled and even if that's all I wanted to know, I find that the timeline keeps running in the background for a while. I do not hear any voices as it happens, but I can recall conversations. I can distinctly tell that it is different from the voices that run 24/7. The voices I have are separated into right and left side. I've read on here that it is the same for others, too. The recall happens directly in the middle of my head. Images with my eyes closed and the sounds of the recollection comes from the center of my head.
I have the voices with constant interrogation going on, and one time I told them that we've been through this before and I'm going to put myself under and ignore you. They said that I couldn't do it, because I need them, etc. and I told them they're not doing me any good anyway, you're just setting me up is what it sounds like to me, etc. So, I just laid back and started. I thought for years about the doctors office I was in. I always remembered some guy, a pdoc that I didn't know, telling me to look to my right, look to my left, and then look straight ahead. Then some skinny woman in black walks between us saying, "He'll never figure it out."
So, I went back, told myself to start at a place five minutes before the doctor told me to look right, left, straight ahead. I wanted to see if there was anything else I could remember about that. And I did. When it came to the part that he said look to the right, I did a triple take, not just looking once as I had always remembered it, and I saw the face of a woman with garish makeup blowing me a kiss. I looked to the right, and I felt like one of my sisters. That was weird. I looked straight ahead. The woman walked by with the wallet like thing she clapped closed and said her usual line, He'll never figure it out. Then another new thing was the doctor, or whatever he was, pointed at the same time at either side of me and said, "See. It's the same thing." Don't know and don't really care what that means. The left right straight ahead thing, I used to think it meant past(left) and future(right) and straight ahead was now.
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