An Unpopular Perspective

As a liberal, I have always felt that I needed to hide my devotion, which is a real part of my spiritual life. I'm going to be very honest in this post, asking everyone who reads it to zoom out from the world and its issues, to detect an imposed agenda, and if possible zoom out even more, to see that this world is not the final reality.

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Anneke Lucas
Of Use, and her Terror

She wrote about certain men whom she had connected with, some abusers, some simply powerful men I had come across over the past few years, and how she loved being quick and smart and light to become one with them. Particularly she loved the man who gave birth to her.

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Anneke Lucas
The Lie of a Lifetime

Before the anger, I had spent my entire adult life with a discrepancy between internal and external reality. I harbored a secret paradise of nurturing and love and beauty, based on promises from a man who in his late fifties became the father for whom I had desperately searched for all of the nine years I had been alive.

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Anneke Lucas
The comfort factor of sex

I had heard of a man through a friend whom I had wanted to meet. He had operated in the world in which I was trafficked and abused as a young child, as an adult man. Aspiring to be one of the big shots, he reached a point at which people died because of his actions.

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M Becker
The Enabler.

My stepfather came into my life when I was three years old. I had been living alone with my mother in a tiny studio near Brussels, and after they married we moved to a house in the village in Flanders where he lived. He presented as a savior, since Belgian small town folks did not generally look kindly upon single mothers in 1966.

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M Becker
Posttraumatic Growth and the New Year.

On the journey of healing, the early years are the hardest. The shifting child's point of view, which led to the situation that got you into therapy, creates emotional overwhelm as the reality of the past settles in. The grief can be debilitating. Identifying as a survivor, and feeling the pain of the betrayal, sets you apart from the world, because the grief can be hard to take, and there is often little understanding in the workplace if you need time off, because it's not like having the flue.

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M Becker
Re-Experiencing terror with the purpose to heal

Trigger Warning. I don't issue trigger warnings often, as I expect that those who read my posts are not afraid to be confronted with the darkest side of humanity. What I am sharing here is not about the most violent trauma I encountered in my years in the network and with my mother. This is about betrayal. 

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M Becker
Facing a Mother's Betrayal through Mistaken Identity.

Sometimes change comes upon you, and all you can do is remind yourself that you're inside a process, and that this too shall pass. On my journey, I've been in grief many times.  As the attachment to abusive parental figures loosens, I grow, breaking through layers of denial and delusion, reaching through my pain, to rise and stand tall - a little wiser, and more serene. 

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M Becker
My bouts of revenge in Hollywood, and the inherently abusive nature of power structures.

I think what they meant was that I was young and heavily sexualized, creating a sensuality that attracted men and women to me in their unconscious reverence of sexual idols. Sex is about power, and the excitement in the room was the unhealthy agitation of being near it, almost able to touch it. It's almost like being close to God, only the powerful are playing God in hell. 

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M Becker
Love is the only influence that makes any difference in life.

It is natural for children to love their parents. I didn't expect to be loved, yet looked for it everywhere. My everywhere was the murderous pedophile network. I was known as the girl used for the VIP's, and was once introduced to a group of foreign dignitaries, to pick out the most powerful one. It was obvious that the shortest one of the group, to whom everyone deferred, was my man.

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Shame is the psychic package delivered with sexual abuse.

Shame is meant to help regulate our behavior. Since it is such an uncomfortable feeling, we would want to avoid repeating actions that cause us to feel it. In the Hindu Shankya system, shame is listed as one of the eight poisons of the heart, hindering our spiritual growth. Following moral precepts helps us to move beyond shame. 

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M Becker
My Response To The Skeptics

It's impossible to read all comments (video linked here) of course - but I do see that many are heartfelt, empathic, strong, and full of understanding. When I started doing the healing work 30 years ago, this would never have been. At that time, the intellectual media treated survivors as whiners or liars. False Memory Syndrome was a hot topic. 

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Anneke Lucas
A Father Complex

When I was three my mother married my stepfather, we moved to a village near Antwerp, and I lost my true mother, the French speaking caregiver who had loved me. My mother got pregnant right away, and I remember my stepfather being excited about the baby on the way. Even though he was new in my life, I was told he was my father, and of course I believed it, and yet kept searching for 'my father,' because my stepfather was so obvious in his strong preference for my brother, and remained distant from me.

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M Becker
Before the age of 9, I was not often called pretty.

Badly abused, I would ply my psyche and body to meet perpetrators' or my mother's needs. Not having received the nurturing a child receives through unconditional love, especially in the early years, I remained very open to meet adults' expectations, which alone shape a child's mind, and by extension, the body, and the face. Yes, we have our bone structure, but I found myself transforming however needed, for the abusers in the network, or for my mother at home - for whom I needed to be ugly. The change of hands often involved my rather drastic physical changes. Of course I couldn't consciously control this - it was always depending on the adult. 

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M Becker
Of Education and Privilege

When I arrived in the US in 1985, I relived the high of privilege to which I had been exposed when I had been trafficked to this country as a nine year old girl. Living in the vague expectation that something big was about to happen, I was a guest at parties in enormous apartments overlooking Central Park, invited to dinners over Krug champagne, and marveled at by a business tycoon who told me, somewhat incredulously, that I was on his level. At the time, I believed he thought of us as equals because I didn't want anything from him, rather than that the powerful projection of an American perpetrator had been triggered by setting foot once more on American soil, and I exuded all he had once predicted. Under the admiring gaze of the rich and powerful, I felt that high once again, which leaves one feeling very light - lifted off the ground - living on a cloud above humanity, disconnected from the reality of life, and from one's own and others' sorrow and pain.

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M Becker
The first person I met when I arrived in the US in 1985 was the son of a family where I spent Thanksgiving.

The first person I met when I arrived in the US in 1985 was the son of a family where I spent Thanksgiving. Though we went out, our communication was so poor I was never clear on whether we were officially together. I moved to LA and in 1991, on a layover flight from LA to Europe, he met me at JFK and we kissed. The plane never left and passengers were bused to a nearby hotel. He came to pick me up and drove me to his home outside the city. 19 years earlier, I had been in a very similar scenario, being flown to JFK on the private jet of a perpetrator, and taken to a similarly somber hotel room where I was left alone, convinced I was going to be tortured and killed. A gopher knocked on the door and led me to the backseat of a chauffeured sedan, where the owner of the private jet was waiting for me, smiling. As we drove to his home in the night, I took in the atmosphere and surroundings like manna from heaven, believing myself to be deeply loved because I was not tortured or killed, and instead offered nurturing touch and praise: sexual abuse for sure - but of the kind most confusing to a child - the kind that calls itself love.

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M Becker
Two years ago, I interviewed with Paul Gilmartin for the The Mental Illness Happy Hour and first spoke of a particularly horrendous ordeal I lived through as a child.

This particular method of torture is one I've not since heard of, perhaps because it wouldn't kill a person, and requires means and connections as far as collecting the instruments. What is most staggering is the time and effort this perpetrator, whom I considered "the boss" of the network - a high ranking Belgian politician - went through to win this "game" which he had started to play with me a few weeks earlier, in a small room where we were alone in the night, when he looked at me with a twinkle in his eye, like we were going to play a game, and then brutally hit me in the face with closed fist. He proceeded to beat me up, and the game, it appeared, was that I should withstand the blows without screaming.

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M Becker