Tuesday, 8 March 2016


 Don't run away from grief, O soul
Look for the remedy inside the pain
because the rose came from the thorn
and the ruby came from the stone---- Rumi

As a survivor of Mk-Ultra for years I have achingly wanted my memories fully restored.  The irony, or perhaps more realistically, the intended programmed factor is that when finally, segments of my past begin to return only the traumatic events of my past surfaced.  The fact that the United States Government and the CIA are the entities behind the behavioral mind manipulations project is the major reason why as a survivor of this program the period of convalescence is so extensive.  I was once told by a government agent that even if my memories were to return that no one would believe my story.  Well, I have grown to realize that my responsibility is to tell what I know; not to attempt any forethought of, or to attempt  to filter through the minds of the American public.

A second reality which I have accepted is that I must tell my story regardless of the ridicule or disbelief I will receive.  I remember a line from Homer which read, "A coward dies a thousands deaths but a brave person only dies once."   In truth the line reads; "That a brave MAN only dies once."  But, I have learned in life that bravery is not bias toward gender.  In any regard, I am not looking to expire any time soon but just the opposite, I am looking forward to living a full rich life free from the prisoner encased within and because of her silence.

Early in  life for me there was no lack of ambition.  I spent some of my elementary years being educated in Russia and Great Britain.  Since childhood for me was during the early to late fifties as a female child being educated in Russia was very fortuitous, since during this period of time  the Russians did not discriminate according to gender where education was concern. 

I had a exuberant passion for space exploration.  My young mind was fascinated by the thought that man would one day have the ability to land on the moon.  Many a night,  I sat staring  wistfully at the stars and when possible, not only would I stare at a full moon but with lips widely parted smile in wonder at the luminous sphere in the sky.  As mentioned prior on this blog, I had been enrolled into an accelerated educational  program and the level of courses I took was based on  ability not age or grade level..

Ofttimes, in life, when you do something for others, something good happens to you.  I had wanted to begin this post with a different Rumi quote but could not locate the specific book that contained the quote.   Then, yesterday. when my granddaughter was visiting she wanted to play with a specific toy which, also, I could not at first find.  Subsequently, as we looked into plastic storage boxes where I had previously searched  for the Rumi book,  there tucked quietly in a corner of the bend was the book.; and as a day gone right, we also found the toy she wanted.  In any event, here is the poem:

The difficulties of  winter and autumn.,
            the heat of summer,
    spring like the spirit of life,
winds and clouds and lighting--all these
       help to make distinctions clear:
            so the dust-colored earth
may bring forth all it holds in its heart,
       whether ruby or dull stone.

In this blog, I have shared many of the traumas and exploitation's which I have endured in life.  There are still other brutal and vile incidences which have not yet been posted.  Nevertheless, when I read a poem such as the one above, I attempt to look for the metamorphic benefits in my life: such as,  am I wiser, stronger, braver, more courageous?   Have I in any way evolved into a more compassionate, caring, giving human being?  How can I decipher the, was, from the, is. and find a distinction wherein. 

Prior to Mk-Ultra ,  I practiced law, was a married woman and mother.  I was very involved and active in my communities both faith-based and local.  Being involved in what I considered worthwhile causes was second nature to me.  I believed I had a purpose in life and daily I went about attempting to fulfill my purpose.   I, then, possessed a strong sense of direction and a even stronger sense of certainty where my destiny of serving was concerned. 

Then, two men entered the home of this mother, this wife, this attorney, and most importantly, the woman whose primary goal in life was being committed to doing God's Will.  These agents forced me to leave my home, my son, my marriage, my life on the disguise of needing to protect me, ( as then, I was tentatively scheduled to be a witness against members of organized crime.)  According to the agents, when another young woman who was scheduled to be a witness in the same case was murdered, the decision was made to place me in protective custody. Whatever my goals,  ambitions, or responsibilities were bore no relevance to the governmental agents and agencies; as it was their interest, their goals, their objective which immediately usurped mine.

After I was taken out of my marriage, my former husband developed an intimate relation with a   colleague.  That specific situation should have had no connection to my life but the porous relationship of existence caused the jealousy of my former husband's lover to spew over into my life.

In the epic writing of Lucian;  A Greek satirist of the second century A,D.  In his masterful play:   "Dialogues of the Dead"  he asserted that  kings, philosophers, aristocrats and people of wealth and prominent prior to travel through death rid themselves all of the superficial baggage collect throughout  life.

My husband's paramour, had not made this journey and  much of the vile baggage he had collect throughout his life was released on me. This person held a powerful position within the US government and being a person of substantial financial means presented an opportunity. He used both his position and his means to go beyond the so-called protective order and he caused one of the most degrading, and excruciatingly painful events of my life.  He used his position of power to enter into an area of governmental sources which are not open to the public.  After all, a protected witness, is not one anyone outside of the enforcement should be able to locate.  Yet, I guess with the right amount of influence and currency, what should be can be altered and the colleague  found out where I was living and he brought about the most vile and extremely cruel incident in my life.

An example of a dialogue in the play is found below: when Hermes, a character in the play is talking with a philosopher.  In Greek Mythology. "Hermes is the god of commerce . invention. cunning, and theft, who also served as message and herald for other gods, as patron of travel and rogues, and as the conductor of the dead to Hades; identified with the Roman god Mercury." (The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language definition..  

Off with your clothes first; and then we will see to the rest. My goodness, what a bundle: quackery, ignorance, quarrelsomeness, vainglory; idle questionings, prickly arguments, intricate conceptions; humbug and gammon and wishy-washy hair-splitting's without end; and hullo! why here's avarice, and self-indulgence, and impudence! luxury, effeminacy and peevishness!—Yes, I see them all; you need not try to hide them. Away with falsehood and swagger and superciliousness; why, the three-decker is not built that would hold you with all this luggage."

In Lucian.'s  play when one is traveling from life to death they must be loaded onto a boat which will take them to their final destination.  As noted in the above quote, unnecessary characteristic are not allowed on the boat.  Farther along in the epic, a king comes to the juncture and is told that he must leave behind his arrogance, his false pride, his jealousy, and a number of other pompous qualities  which would cause the travel to be burdensome.

One of the seven deadly sins, jealousy, ejected itself into my life with nearly deadly consequences when my former husband's intimate partner, needing according to him, to have me taken off the pedestal which my husband me on; contacted a coworker.  This person was bribed into giving me a substance which rendered me unconscious and unaware of my circumstances .I was then kept against my knowledge and will for a period of time.  Even though, I am a Mk-Ultra survivor, I do not understand nor did I know the techniques that can put a person in a hypnotic like state.  While being held in a stupor., I was  photographer and painted in the nude.  I learned later that the images were widely circulated due to the fact that the perpetrated of these indignation stated that his motive was to have my husband think less of me..

During the period of time in life when I made my own decision, I always dressed in a conservative professional manner.  I valued my intelligence and abilities and contributions. Personal provocative dress or any type of physical public exposure would never be sanctioned by me.  Yet, for a while according to what I learned, such photos of me were circulated.  I guess the results wanted by the perpetrator did not manifest as the abuse went much, much further. 

I once saw one of the painting done of me in the nude and it was clear that I was not a willing subject as my head was dangling as if it  was not attached to my body.  A few times during this period,, I have minute moments of awareness and  I overheard someone giving direction hearing statements like,  "Can't you manage to get her head more upright.  She's nearly drooling."   An unknowing rag doll, a marionette, an object of someone in a position of power envy. What a dangerous situation to be placed  in.

I have no way of knowing how seeing the images  of my naked photos effected my pedestal stance where my former husband was concerned but my situation did not improve..  A female acquaintance who I had no reason not to trust, lured me to a place where I was told would be a party.  Once at the located I was drugged and put into a situation which was so horrifying that one of the individuals in the room stated that if those holding me were going to follow the instruction they were waiting to receive, that she was going to leave the room.  It seems that a loaded gun had been placed in my vaginal area and that a phone call awaited where the instruction to either pull the trigger  or not would be given.

One of the reasons I titled this post, "Convalescence,"  is the fact that an emotional recovery requires an intentional rehabilitation just as a physical injury does.   I think it is important to state at this time that on one, I mean, NO ONE, who was involved in what happened to me  has ever had to answer for their crimes.    I have  gone back and forth a number of times as what I should title my book,  "The Protected Witness"  is just one of the titles. 

One of the essential components in recovering from trauma is releasing the strong hold of protective self.  There was a time when I would have found revealing the above fact too humiliating to share.  It's like being defaced.  Physical nakedness is minute compared to the depth  and disclosure of emotional scares when your very ethos has been disregarded and minimized. 

I have decided to place excerpts from a work-in-process novel on this blog.  I have been working on the manuscript for a number of years.  I won't want my continued efforts to become void of fruition.  I might be able to understand the why's behind the fact that my novel has not been published, the fact that recovery is not completed.  Consequently, I will place what I consider some of the most significant chapters on this blog.  It is amazing that gross injustice does not change. 

Below please find segments from the manuscript written by me titled, "From the Broken Glass to the Sheet of Ice."

As an introduction to the excerpt, I will give a brief overview of what is called psycho-driving, a technique in behavioral manipulation in programming. 

“Trauma-based mind control programming can be defined as systematic torture that blocks the victim’s capacity for conscious processing (through pain, terror, drugs, illusion, sensory deprivation, sensory over-stimulation, oxygen deprivation, cold, heat, spinning, brain stimulation, and often, near-death), and then employs suggestion and/or classical and operand conditioning (consistent with well-established behavioral modification principles) to implant thoughts, directives, and perceptions in the unconscious mind, often in newly-formed trauma-induced dissociated identities, that force the victim to do, feel, think, or perceive things for the purposes of the programmer. The objective is for the victim to follow directives with no conscious awareness, including execution of acts in clear violation of the victim’s moral principles, spiritual convictions, and volition.
Installation of mind control programming relies on the victim’s capacity to dissociate, which permits the creation of new walled-off personalities to “hold” and “hide” programming. Already dissociate children are prime “candidates” for programming”. [5. Ellen P. Lacter, Ph. D., The Relationship Between Mind Control Programming and Ritual Abuse]
As readers of this blog if you  have some understanding of the techniques used against victims of mind control the excerpts from my novel can be more understandable.  The excerpt which I will now include tells of the reaction of a child during a psycho-driving period who had been forced to sleep for months while continuous tape-recordings are played.   Several mornings, unknown to- her captors, the child would wake-up.  This excerpt is such a morning.
Many children awaken with a sense of belonging and feeling secure within their immediate environments.  The reflective thoughts which allow children to develop the sense of belonging were not there for this captured child.   Nurturing memories. like the sight of her mother's smiling face and approving glances were stripped from the child's consciousness.   The only repeated memory which visited this captured child was the memory of a pair of pink slippers.
Aleah, walked from the bedroom where she was being  kept.  Descending a flight of stairs she located a long vertical window where she sat.   Seated on the landing, she stared at the sky's emerging wonders.  The colorful morning sky's hues triggered memories beyond her missing pink slippers,  An affixed gaze recalled the ballerina's  movements contained in the jewelry box which was seated on in her mother's nightstand  in her parent's bedroom.   The flourished movement of a dancer's skirt jumped from within the colorful smeared sky.  The enormous balloon of dawn carried within its' ascension, the color of Aleah's bedroom walls, along with some the coloring in the dress of her favored doll.  The energetic ball of morn emitted splinters of her treasured past..  Her outdoor sandbox, the swing set, the backyard playhouse.  Yet, her mother name, the own name, the wading pool, the antiques dolls, the porcelain tea set, her precious friends were like an evaporated specter.
Luckily, within the pigmentation of dawn, while seated on this landing, a few sprinkles of her yesterdays' returned before the furlong child drifted back to sleep.  Nodding limply, Aleah's forehead  touched the window's pane.   After a few seconds, the penetrating  feel of the cold glass against her soft young skin  jolted her awake.  Soon, again, she nodded forward.   Resting her forehead on the window's pane, for a while this seemingly motherless child found a momentary sense of peace. 

The frigid  morning's air placed an arctic chill on the window's glass which disrupted the child's temporary state of rest causing her disbelief.  Repeatedly,  She  placed her right hand, first on the window's pane, then, again on her forward.   Confusion and nausea gripped, and for a moment in this youngster's mind, the only image seen was that of a classical toy whose wooden head moved vigorously in spasmodic motion.  Shaken,  the terrified child, extended both hands mentally attempting to halt the movement of this big brown eyed wooden toy with his painted black lacquered hair  and his quivering body.  

When her hands touched the cold glass instead of the jerking toy, the dazed child walked with the wooden figurine still jousting about in her head away from the landing, through the living room and down the front stairs.   The front door opened, she was pushed, the door locked and the shoe less child wearing  only a sleeveless flimsy  grown stood trembling in the cold.