The Manipulation of Attachment Needs

Heaps of pain recently, not sure if its because I missed a day on the pill after it had just settled down again after the antibiotics. Maybe its the reading, the chatting on twitter, the time of year or a combination of all. It does feel like the reading is opening my mind up but I still shy away from writing things down the moment they come to mind. I remembered being in the back of a police car breast feeding, my milk had just come in and I left a wet patch on the seat. I'm getting snippets of phone calls when I was small not just of being controlled and terrified but of people, or a man anyway trying to tell me who I was, what was going on, trying to arm me against it all. These people have always been there, they are part of the networks. That's what makes it so hard for me to let it all go because it was through the cults,the organised crime, the corruption that I got only real love and recognition. How can any one understand if they haven't been part of? Maybe it was just a method that was used to get me to trust, to bond but I have always felt confidence that I am part of a long line of resistance as much as I am a product of mind control.

Ritual Abuse and Mind Control: The Manipulation of Attachment Needs (eds., Epstein, Schwartz & Schwartz, 2011) arrived today. I had a lot of hopes for it because it has great reviews in Amazon, its British and its new and so far it hasn't disappointed. Its gone into depth about calendars which brought back lots of slivers of images and sensations. I'm not going to go into great detail this now but I hope I will read it at least twice and make some effort to make notes as I read. There was at least one year in my early to mid teens that was particularly awful for calendar related torture. At the beginning of the year especially, everyday or every other day there would be torturous rituals and get together. From the Christmas hardcore to getting dizzy as I was forced to watched the ribbons intertwining on May Day somewhere in sunny Southern England, shit just kept happening. The 'I've never been raped' me didn't have time to surface, or was never called.

That's probably another reason why I find this time of the year so hard, as well as the Seasonal Affected Disorder. Halloween doesn't bother me as much, probably because I was taught (possibly through/by the resistance) that there was no such thing as bad spirits, just unresolved traumas and people with bad intentions, evil skills. Halloween was an equaliser when anyone could call on whatever they wanted to do whatever they wanted. In the converse nature of things this makes Halloween good, children wear skeleton costume, mothers dress up as witches and fathers (in a more recent less traumatic year) stumble down the stairs in the common alcoholic state dressed as Grandpa Monster. Representations of death are everywhere not hidden, its a reminder of human sacrifice but not in a way that is intended to terrify but just as a fact of our heritage, our past, our culture in a way we can laugh at. It's a celebration of progressivness as well as a recognition of how thin our ideals of 'civilisation' really are. The eye balls in the drinks are actually rubber balls, not real ones. I find it all a bit of relief these days from the 'proper' culture that is so prevalent the rest of the time. I doubt I will ever feel that way about May day, or the Summer Solstice.

One part of the book that resonated with me was an account about a survivor who felt such a strength of bond with her newborn before he was murdered that she choose to never leave that moment, that she would hold the child forever. I identify with this a lot. In the book they have a ceremony for the dead child where the mother lets go of the baby so it can be with 'God', there is flowers, lots and lots of tears but it works, the mother can move forward. Although it makes me roll my eyes a bit, I don't have that much of a problem with God in this context but to me the baby is returned to enrich the universe, to be part of nature instead of held captive in a frozen moment. But I not know how many there were, how many are still alive and I can not use one to symbolise them all, people are not symbols they are representative of themselves, individuals, unique souls who were brought to life in me, with my good blood, through my fertility. I do not want to let them go.

I'm in the mind control chapter at the moment, which is adding to what was resurfaced after reading The Greenbaum Speach. Its so good to see descriptions of mind control techniques used by the state written and spoken by professionals in a language that is clear, conversational.

Enough for tonight I think. xx

Popular posts from this blog

Watered and fed the Roses

How do you know Savile to?