Tuesday, 6 October 2015


"O believers, remember God Oft,
and give Him glory at the  dawn and in the evening."   The Qur'an

As I journey through internal discovery and recovery, it is challenging to be completely honest regarding my seemingly unbelievable truth..  This morning, as I meditated and soaked in the bath , I thought about a daughter I birthed, whom I have not seen in many, many  years.  This daughter was inseminated against my knowledge and consent which I am sure most if not all who view my blog, will have a difficult time understand or an even more difficult time believing.  The factor of sharing  traumatic childhood experiences and, then, not being believed, haunts numerous survivors of childhood abuse, "Who will believe me?   While other often wonder, will people think less of me due to what was done to me?"

Fear, shame, avoidance, confusion and the feeling of being totally alone makes for a volatile, emotional interior backdrop for an abused child.  Yet, it is when a survivor of an  unfathomable   horror makes the statement,  "I am blessed," that I am in awe.  With that being said, may I say, void of awe, that I am a survivor who is truly blessed,

One evening two different acquaintances introduced me to one of their friends.  Since both acquaintances knew that I am a spiritual path, they selected to bring one man who thought of himself as a Shaman type and the other who professed no accolade identity. As we discussed variant subject over hot cups of tea, at a local Hookah bar. the man who acclaimed no identifying title made a most profound statement. He calmly asked then answered the question.

"Have you ever contemplated that if Adam had legal representation at the time of his disobedience, there is a very good possibility that he would have never been removed from the Garden of Eden?

According to the untitled man, when God presented the logic to Adam, "I have blessed you with the incredibility of life, a garden plentiful and many blessings, how could you disobey Me?"

Adam's sincerely  responded. (according to the seemingly humble man),  "So that I could taste of your mercy."

I don't know if that statement would have prevented the eviction, but it does give pause.

When in the relaxation of my morning ritual, I asked myself are you really going to talk about having been forcefully inseminated, then,when hesitation regarding the exposure of this personally defacing humiliation seeped, I thought about the book, "The Franklin Cover-up", written by John Decamp and having read this extraordinary revelation of documented child abuse, I mustered the courage to share yet another almost inconceivable personal  truth.  

Now, a rapid change of subject.  A large number of years ago, I had been in a Catholic convent for what I believed to be a few weeks for a high school retreat.  One day after having been out of the convent for what I seemed a few weeks, I happened into a high school friend who made a statement which perplexed me.  "I see you didn't make it either?  She then continued, " At least you lasted longer than I did, she affirmed.  "One day, she continued," " In a total panic, after a years in the convent, I phoned my mother pleading with her to come and get me immediately.  I assured her that if she were not at the convent within a few hours that I would find something to jump off of,"  My loving mother. within the hour,  was standing next to me asking had I packed and was I sure that this is what I wanted to do.. " Shortly after my mother's questions, I was home ordering a pepperoni pizza."

The friends's name was Josephine  and when I told her that I had no idea what she was talking about. that I had only been in the convent a few weeks.  And what on earth gave her the idea what I had spent two years in the convent.  After she took several very deep inhales, shaking her head,  her only remark was, "Wow! They must have really done a job on you."

In the face of the many horrors I have experience the feeling of being bless stem from the knowledge of what did not happen to me rather than what did.  I did not turn to drugs or alcohol.  Gratefully, in me, there did not develop sexual promiscuity. hatred or lack of faith.  When a person, especially a child, turns to a faith-based institution for salvation and receives instead deception, dishonesty, violations, much is ripped from the individual's emotionally.  What an enormously invisible interior hole.  What remains is a gaping, shredded, once whole vibrant being.  For me, it was only the strength of faith and the slow relinquishing of pain that begin by healing process.

Those  who did what they did to me and others are not better than us they are just a great deal more powerful.  They are not special, or blessed.  The are not privileged but instead they are deviant and perverted.  Arrogance has been the downfall of societies prior to this one.      

It seems to me that one day, I was having a tea party with my dolls under the embracing shade of an oak tree in the backyard of parents home.  Then, next, I was having my dress lifted up and my panties pulled down my strange foreign men who stated when attempting to examine my vaginal area, "They say that girls of her class are operated on at birth for some kind of identification purpose."

When the man who was suppose to be babysitting walked into the backroom of the small bar where the men had taken me saw what was happening, he became outraged.  "What are you doing to this child?"  When the men explained what they had heard regarding girls born into certain families and the required vaginal surgery, the babysitter angrily asked, "And just how many young girl's panties have you pulled down to find out?"

The men in the backroom answered,  "Oh! "Man it's not like that.  We're not like that"  The sitter, then readjusted my attire, proceeded to walk me back to where I was being kept and continuously asked me, "Did those men hurt you?  The sitter struggled with how to phrase his words when attempting to get answers from me regarding what I had just experienced.  I never answered his questions.  I was under seven year old at the time and I only knew that I felt fear and that I did not understand why the men had taken me or why I was afraid of them.

Since during this period of time, I was caused to sleep for long period of time, I remember little of the aftermath of the incident and did not remember the backroom examination for many years to come.

Personally healing for me is associated with the acknowledgement that I was an exploited and abused child.  The exploitation extended into adulthood and is still seeded in my life as I don't remember my birth name and when I attempt to find answers, powerful sources within the government hinder my attempts.

I pray that through my attempts and the attempts of other Mk-Ultra survivors that the truth of his brutal scar on American History will one day fully be told.

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