The sex slave training lasted one month. While I have no recollection of the official story of my absence that summer, I do remember my mother pressing her lips together and shaking her head, confiding in me that she had not enjoyed the family vacation of that year.
Read MoreVictim identification is the first prerequisite for committing harm to others, because it justifies the deed. And this is what feeds a system of aggression and why unresolved childhood trauma is the great secret fuel of our Western world.
Read MoreI was 11 years old and a burning cigarette was pushed out on my arm. Even though I could smell my flesh burn, I didn't feel anything. My gaze was intensely locked with a young man's standing about ten feet from me, who was the reason for my situation. It was to be the last chapter of his yearlong projection that was to end in my death.
Read MoreI have never met heroes like the survivors of Satanic Ritual Abuse I’ve met. The children who bravely faced inhumane conditions, surviving against the odds, grown into beautiful, compassionate adults who willingly take on the hardship of feeling into the unbearable grief of such a past, living with severe guilt complexes, DID and PTSD while holding down jobs.
Read MoreAs 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.
Read MoreShe 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.
Read MoreBefore 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.
Read MoreRecently I have been suffering from flashbacks, of being abused, and told specific things during the abuse, that formed tracks into my brain so that when A ever happened, I was ready to do B.
Read MoreI 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.
Read MoreOn 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.
Read MoreTrigger 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.
Read MoreSometimes 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.
Read MoreI hold my heart, beating hard enough to think attack - that's if I didn't know exactly what this dread is about, and didn't know that I can take it. I can do it. I can hold it. For her. I loved my mother. All children love their parents, but the love for my mother gave purpose to my existence. I was her best friend.
Read MoreI 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.
Read MoreWhen I was first brought to the network, I already had the habit of splitting. I had been abused as an infant by my mother, molested by an uncle at age 3, and had been groomed by the couple who first brought me to an orgy - that is to say - I had been raped by the man, while the woman had hurled verbal abuse at me.
Read MoreIt 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.
Read MoreShame 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.
Read MoreIt'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.
Read MoreWhen 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.
Read MoreBadly 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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