It has been such a long time since last I posted here. I’m grateful for all of you who continue to follow this blog after such a long absence. I started a GoFund Me campaign today in an effort to try to re-enter the work force. Go check it out if you get a minute:
Okay, now that that’s out of the way, let me try to catch you up. Please heed the trigger warning.
I am continuing in weekly therapy and my therapist and I have noticed an interesting pattern. About a week or so before a major memory surfaces, I rage. My mood dramatically changes, I switch a lot more and I have zero fuse. There is this feeling of severe disdain not directly at any one thing or any one person – in short I get in a funk that I can’t seem to release. And just like clockwork, after about two weeks, another memory comes up that makes me want to run and hide again. I am currently in the beginning stages of yet another one of these memories as my mood has been funky for the past three days. If I’m able mentally, I will post what comes up later this month. Here’s an example of one of the last doozies that came up.
It started about three years ago, I got this fleeting memory of something that looked pretty satanic. I didn’t mention it to my therapist for a long time because I didn’t want to go down that road. I didn’t want to think it might be true nor did I want to think I might have false memory syndrome (though I don’t know how I possibly could). Let me be very, very clear here before I say anything else – my therapist does not lead my therapy sessions. She doesn’t not use prompt words, does not put thoughts into my head, or try to lead me to conclusions. If I sit there the entire hour and don’t say a word; neither does she. She does not initiate thoughts or make suggestions; therefore, she would never be responsible for falso memories (or for creating new parts). Before I even mentioned this memory to her, I researched false memory syndrome and found that is just doesn’t apply. Now, I know that all memories have errors, but I had way too much detail in this memory for it to be made up. And I adored my father – ADORED HIM [hate him now] – but why would I make this up?!
The memory is this. I am around 4 years old. I am in a park of some kind with a few other children and a lot of adults. Initially, I am standing by my mother who is near some other mothers standing around worn looking picnic tables nestled between a couple of large trees. I remember peeling off a piece of the tree bark that was just hanging there and turning in a circle with it because it whistles when you do that and I liked the noise. My father is there, uncle Red and a couple of my father’s other friends. They are all in red robes. There is a camp fire made inside a small circle of stones. After a while, all the men go stand in a circle around this camp fire. My estimate is there are at least 15-20 men there. The robes are red, as I said, and the inside of the hood is gold OR the gold masks they are wearing are protruding into the inside of the hood making it look gold, I don’t know. These men start to chant. I don’t remember the words, but I do remember the rhythm of the words. They sway a little, too. I am trying to see inside the circle so I run around the circle trying to get someone to move their leg aside so I can get in. I tried to edge in right when they swayed left; edge in left when they swayed right. No one lets me in. They chant quicker. I eventually get in between my father and uncle Red and pull their robs aside. Something is rising out of the fire….
The memory cuts off at that moment. I finally got up the nerve to tell this to my therapist. She listened very intently, never said a word. When I was done, she said to me, do NOT go searching on the internet for more information. Let the memory unfold in its time. Don’t chase the memory, let it come to you. That’s it; that’s all she said. Well, of COURSE I went looking on the internet for red robed grown men….found nothing so I left it alone. Fast forward to mid year last year and the memory continued to unfold.
Yes, you guessed it, what I can only call a demon was coming out of the fire. It whipped its head around and looked directly at me! I remember the fear; my body remembers the fear…but no more of the memory. I honestly don’t know what to make of it family. Here are some things I do know and have received confirmation of: both my parents were involved in freemasonry. My father was a 33rd degree mason; my mother a member of the easter stars. I don’t know if this memory has anything to do with freemasonry at all. If any of you have any information about it, please let me know? I do have another memory where we returned to the same park for a similiar activity and I remember a folding sign that had a mason symbol on it. The symbol on the sign was in blue and gold and Looked sort of like the symbol here:
It has taken me over a year to even consider posting this memory here from sheer fear. The eyes of that demon continue to haunt me. I’ve lost tons of sleep because I can’t feel safe. How do I lock my doors and windows against a demon?! My therapist has suggested I intentionally dissociate this memory again because I simply can’t handle it. But my question to her is – if I can’t handle it, why did it come up? I thought you said…and she verified that yes she DID say; however, in my attempt to process it, I’m losing the plot and getting flooded which stresses me out, triggering the switching even more!
I am still struggling a whole lot with the whole incest thing, even though I know it happened, I can’t believe the family who was supposed to love and protect me was raping me and farming me out! To what end?! OMG! I’m a mother and I can’t even BEGIN to phathom how let along WHY any parent could do this to their own child! I keep wondering if I asked for it some how and the shame…the SHAME is the worse! So here I am trying to wrap my mind around the incest when these devil worshipping/masonic worshipping memories start coming up! I get scared, I get angry, I feel defeated. How much more could there be, Dear Lord!!! Give me STRENGTH!!! SIGH!!! Anyways, every week after therapy I. AM. EXHAUSTED. I sleep most of the next day and then all of the weekend. This is a process I understand, one I have to make in order to heal.
There’s your update for now. If this latest memory surfaces before the end of the month, I’ll try hard to post it here for your review and feedback. If any of you know or have experienced anything with abuse and the masons please let me know? This is some wide stuff I know, but I need verification if you have it.