Recently Patches did a post about being afraid of Spirituality and it got me to thinking. Spirituality is one of those words like "God" that really turns some people off. Being a survivor of Satanic Ritualistic Abuse like me it makes sense that I would have that fear.
Having been tortured, abused and indoctrinated in the name of lots of faces of the spiritual realm, it's pretty darn easy to see why I might have a problem with God. Not just God the almighty, but god the word can push my buttons equally as viciously.
I can relive brain washing sessions at the drop of a hat with full technicolor playing in my head complete with all the body memories rolled up into one horrendous package. The parts in my head can scatter in more directions than any mathematician can imagine as they try to not bounce off the triggers flying because I've been set up for a cascading effect that was engineered to end in my destruction.
Luckily I've come to a place that I can put a lid on this stuff and send it back to the hell it belongs in protecting the affected littles from having to experience the torture yet again and the triggering of self destruct messages.
I know through all parts of my being that that "stuff" is not of God, nor is it of me. I don't deserve it and I don't have to experience it anymore. I know that being afraid of God and spirituality is exactly what those messages are all about. They are designed to keep me trapped.
I refuse to buy into that old crap even though many parts of me still can bristle at words like "God" and "spirituality." I no longer have to be caught by the lies that caused that uncomfortableness in me. I can pursue peace and know that I deserve it.
Now, I have parts that can do "God" just fine. They can even tell you about God and how spirituality has affected this protection in me. None go to church, nor do any feel the need but ALL want to be what we understand spirituality entails.
That's because we've come to our own understanding of what spirituality really is. Despite definitions of spirituality on the web that include references to religions or church, we have come to an acceptance that spirituality for us includes a person’s sense of peace, purpose, connection to others and beliefs.
For us that means many things. We strive to be honest. We don't want to do hurtful things to anyone. We live by the golden rule. We want to be fair even to those who don't deserve it. We think that getting even is a waste of time. We believe that we need to honor all living things. The list goes on and on. What is important is that we live in a way that is consistent with what is in our heart. That's what we think true spirituality is about.
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Some Things I Can't Explain
NOTE: This post has graphic content.
Recently I made a post on my blog requesting prayers for a survivor of ritualistic abuse. It may have sounded out of character for me since I tend to not post about the spirituals aspects of satanism. I do that because I know that a lot of people might be turned off by it and unable to hear the message here.
There are many things that I cannot explain that happened to me during that time in my life. Being one of those "logical" thinkers, I have a need to be able to explain everything. If I can't explain it in some way, shape or form, then I usually don't talk about it. And I'd really like not to believe it. But when it comes to this, I know what I experienced.
I have posted before about my feelings about God and spirituality.in What Has God Got to Do with It?
But I have not posted about the strange things that I encountered in cult activity. Strange meaning those things that I cannot explain.
Maybe part of the reason that I don't talk about it is I think that people won't believe me if I can't explain it. Heck sometimes it's hard for me to believe it so why should I expect others to do something I am struggling with.
The thing that changes all of that for me is the fact that there are still people out there trying to get free from cult involvement. I know how complicated getting free from cult influence can be. If I can do something to help those people then I am willing to do so even if it means some turmoil here.
What does this have to do with my response to a survivor requesting prayers? Well, it's about those things I can't explain. So instead of trying to, I'm going to tell you about my experience.
On Halloween night when I was seven years old, I was laid upon a marble alter. There were golden candelabras everywhere with long black tapers. On each candle was a golden medallion with the sign of the beast in the center. Sitting on an elevated throne overlooking the altar was a red robed figure around his neck hung a larger version of the same medallion.
There had been two weeks of ceremonies leading up to this celebration in honor of this "creature" and his "child." The ceremony being performed was the final step into the "adoption" of that "child."
Putting two and two together, you might already know that "that child" was me. I had been selected at the age of two for a particular placement within the cult. The five years that I had spent involved were an elaborate training process to ready me for my role as his successor.
Obviously, I wasn't going to take over as a child. My training was going to take a lifetime. There were stages that I was to go through along the way before I actually reached his exalted (their term, not mine) position. There were particular anniversary dates where I was to return for my "official" moves up the ladder. This Halloween night in 1954 was the second step in that series of extraordinary rituals.
But what I want to talk about here isn't the ladder or what my role was to be. The only reason I have told you that part is because it is significant to what happened to me that night. The authority of the cloaked figure and what my relationship to him was to be were the reasons for this particular ritual. The power used was dictated by his authority
At one point in the ceremony, there was a pronouncement committing my soul. I remember something about "the image and likeness of' before my soul was mentioned but frankly most the words are a blur. What isn't a blur is the blackness that over took me and seemed to infiltrate my very being as the word "soul" was spoken. My mind and body were flooded with powerful sensations.
Even now when I think about it, the goosebumps raise, my hair stands on end and the revulsion boils up in the pit of my stomach. The darkness was so black, the emptiness so empty, the chill so frigid. There is no doubt in my mind that nothing less that sheer, pure evil was taking over every part of me, clear through to my immortal soul.
I don't say these works lightly. The evil had a feeling, a smell, a weight, I can't even think of all the ways to describe its presence. I could feel the death, desperation and despair and all manner of hopelessness and evil that belongs in the pits of hell. I don't think I will ever be able to describe it in a way that seems adequate for what I experienced.
I can tell you that even at seven years old, I knew instantly I was making the decision of my life. All of my programming was supposed to make sure that I chose the darkness. But I did not. I screamed out for God.
As the words fell from my lips, the darkness fled and the cult erupted in chaos. That "creature" that I was to replace jumped to his feet, grabbed me from the altar and tossed me aside. Demanding the names of each and every person involved in my programming, he ranted about how he'd been disgraced as the area disintegrated into bedlam.
But again, I don't want to get off onto all of this. What I want you to understand, is that what I experienced was an actual spiritual assault. I can't explain how or why I know that I just do. It was not a trick fabricated by the cult to terrorize me. With every fiber of my being I know that it was the real thing.
I have experienced it once again since that night. On the day that I abreacted this memory, I was assaulted again. Like there was some kind of portal that allowed the evil access to my soul once again. It was the same but it was different.
"It" had knowledge of my entire life. Voices and darkness and haunting flashes perverted to convince me to change my choice. As sure as I am of my name, my age, my children, my passion for Arabian horses, I am sure that my soul was the target of those attacks. And I am sure, that all of this is real.
So when I tell you I know what one human being can do to another or how "evil" human beings can be, I tell you because I know how pure evil feels. I have experienced evil in its most dangerous form.
Because of this, I know if a survivor says she/he needs prayers the request needs to be honored. I know the fight is probably going to be much bigger than anything ever imagined. The survivor's very soul can be at stake.
multiple personality disorder MPD dissociative Identity disorder did ritualistic abuse satanism
Recently I made a post on my blog requesting prayers for a survivor of ritualistic abuse. It may have sounded out of character for me since I tend to not post about the spirituals aspects of satanism. I do that because I know that a lot of people might be turned off by it and unable to hear the message here.
There are many things that I cannot explain that happened to me during that time in my life. Being one of those "logical" thinkers, I have a need to be able to explain everything. If I can't explain it in some way, shape or form, then I usually don't talk about it. And I'd really like not to believe it. But when it comes to this, I know what I experienced.
I have posted before about my feelings about God and spirituality.in What Has God Got to Do with It?
But I have not posted about the strange things that I encountered in cult activity. Strange meaning those things that I cannot explain.
Maybe part of the reason that I don't talk about it is I think that people won't believe me if I can't explain it. Heck sometimes it's hard for me to believe it so why should I expect others to do something I am struggling with.
The thing that changes all of that for me is the fact that there are still people out there trying to get free from cult involvement. I know how complicated getting free from cult influence can be. If I can do something to help those people then I am willing to do so even if it means some turmoil here.
What does this have to do with my response to a survivor requesting prayers? Well, it's about those things I can't explain. So instead of trying to, I'm going to tell you about my experience.
On Halloween night when I was seven years old, I was laid upon a marble alter. There were golden candelabras everywhere with long black tapers. On each candle was a golden medallion with the sign of the beast in the center. Sitting on an elevated throne overlooking the altar was a red robed figure around his neck hung a larger version of the same medallion.
There had been two weeks of ceremonies leading up to this celebration in honor of this "creature" and his "child." The ceremony being performed was the final step into the "adoption" of that "child."
Putting two and two together, you might already know that "that child" was me. I had been selected at the age of two for a particular placement within the cult. The five years that I had spent involved were an elaborate training process to ready me for my role as his successor.
Obviously, I wasn't going to take over as a child. My training was going to take a lifetime. There were stages that I was to go through along the way before I actually reached his exalted (their term, not mine) position. There were particular anniversary dates where I was to return for my "official" moves up the ladder. This Halloween night in 1954 was the second step in that series of extraordinary rituals.
But what I want to talk about here isn't the ladder or what my role was to be. The only reason I have told you that part is because it is significant to what happened to me that night. The authority of the cloaked figure and what my relationship to him was to be were the reasons for this particular ritual. The power used was dictated by his authority
At one point in the ceremony, there was a pronouncement committing my soul. I remember something about "the image and likeness of' before my soul was mentioned but frankly most the words are a blur. What isn't a blur is the blackness that over took me and seemed to infiltrate my very being as the word "soul" was spoken. My mind and body were flooded with powerful sensations.
Even now when I think about it, the goosebumps raise, my hair stands on end and the revulsion boils up in the pit of my stomach. The darkness was so black, the emptiness so empty, the chill so frigid. There is no doubt in my mind that nothing less that sheer, pure evil was taking over every part of me, clear through to my immortal soul.
I don't say these works lightly. The evil had a feeling, a smell, a weight, I can't even think of all the ways to describe its presence. I could feel the death, desperation and despair and all manner of hopelessness and evil that belongs in the pits of hell. I don't think I will ever be able to describe it in a way that seems adequate for what I experienced.
I can tell you that even at seven years old, I knew instantly I was making the decision of my life. All of my programming was supposed to make sure that I chose the darkness. But I did not. I screamed out for God.
As the words fell from my lips, the darkness fled and the cult erupted in chaos. That "creature" that I was to replace jumped to his feet, grabbed me from the altar and tossed me aside. Demanding the names of each and every person involved in my programming, he ranted about how he'd been disgraced as the area disintegrated into bedlam.
But again, I don't want to get off onto all of this. What I want you to understand, is that what I experienced was an actual spiritual assault. I can't explain how or why I know that I just do. It was not a trick fabricated by the cult to terrorize me. With every fiber of my being I know that it was the real thing.
I have experienced it once again since that night. On the day that I abreacted this memory, I was assaulted again. Like there was some kind of portal that allowed the evil access to my soul once again. It was the same but it was different.
"It" had knowledge of my entire life. Voices and darkness and haunting flashes perverted to convince me to change my choice. As sure as I am of my name, my age, my children, my passion for Arabian horses, I am sure that my soul was the target of those attacks. And I am sure, that all of this is real.
So when I tell you I know what one human being can do to another or how "evil" human beings can be, I tell you because I know how pure evil feels. I have experienced evil in its most dangerous form.
Because of this, I know if a survivor says she/he needs prayers the request needs to be honored. I know the fight is probably going to be much bigger than anything ever imagined. The survivor's very soul can be at stake.
multiple personality disorder MPD dissociative Identity disorder did ritualistic abuse satanism
Friday, August 17, 2007
What Has God Got to Do with It?
This may sound funny knowing that we're talking about the worship of Satan in all its ugliness as the abuse I lived, but I was raised a Roman Catholic. I was baptised as an infant, went to church every Sunday and all holy days and was sent to Catholic school when I was old enough.
Over the bed in my room hung that famous picture of a guardian angel escorting two children across a tattered rope bridge. Sorry I can't remember the artist right now but that picture is forever etched in my mind. It always has been. A part of me loved that picture and believed that I had such a guardian angel.
And yet, I was stolen out of that very bed at night and given over to sadistic people for the purpose of rape and torture in the name of the devil. To say that these occurences don't make sense, would be a gross understatement. But such is the life of most every victim of ritualistic abuse.
I think part of the game was convincing the victims that the kind, loving, all knowing God that they had been taught about at church, didn't rescue them because they were not worthy. God didn't love them and He turned his back on them.
I know that was an essential part of my brain washing and yet that one part of me never gave up her love for that guardian angel. She never gave up her love for God. She may have gotten lost a few times along the way through our lifetime, but she has always managed to maintain a voice that could be heard.
When I did finally go to school, I clearly remember one of my favorite church services being those celebrated on Good Friday. From first grade I was mesmerized by the stations of the cross. Attending services on that day were always optional but I never missed a service.
I remember those services as being long and very sad. While I would never allow myself to cry, let alone in public, the stations of the cross on Good Friday were the closest to tears I would ever come. Part of me somehow seemed to understand the atonement this service represented. I would kneel throughout the entire service praying for forgiveness for what, I did not know! All I knew was I needed to be there.
Over the years, I have strayed from my religion. Even before the surfacing of my memories of abuse, I had ceased going to church. But I have never strayed from the principles of that religion. I have chosen to live my life guided by what I believed to be the "right thing."
I know that one of the most difficult issues to deal with for many ritualistic abuse survivors can be God or religion. Even many of the survivors of childhood abuse that does not go to the extremes of ritual abuse can have issues with God. At twelve step programs God is commonly referred to as a "higher power" for those who can not handle the term otherwise.
For me, it doesn't really matter, God or higher power. What matters is the values that the term represents. I don't blame God for what did or didn't happen to me. I blame people. God may have given people free will but I would hate to think what life would be like without it.
I still don't go participate in organized religion. There aren't enough hours in the day. I chose to practice my beliefs every minute of every day and not turn them on and off because it's time for church like so many who participate in organized religion. I believe when judgement day rolls around on my list of short comings will not be that I didn't honor the Father.
multiple personality disorder MPD dissociative Identity disorder did
Over the bed in my room hung that famous picture of a guardian angel escorting two children across a tattered rope bridge. Sorry I can't remember the artist right now but that picture is forever etched in my mind. It always has been. A part of me loved that picture and believed that I had such a guardian angel.
And yet, I was stolen out of that very bed at night and given over to sadistic people for the purpose of rape and torture in the name of the devil. To say that these occurences don't make sense, would be a gross understatement. But such is the life of most every victim of ritualistic abuse.
I think part of the game was convincing the victims that the kind, loving, all knowing God that they had been taught about at church, didn't rescue them because they were not worthy. God didn't love them and He turned his back on them.
I know that was an essential part of my brain washing and yet that one part of me never gave up her love for that guardian angel. She never gave up her love for God. She may have gotten lost a few times along the way through our lifetime, but she has always managed to maintain a voice that could be heard.
When I did finally go to school, I clearly remember one of my favorite church services being those celebrated on Good Friday. From first grade I was mesmerized by the stations of the cross. Attending services on that day were always optional but I never missed a service.
I remember those services as being long and very sad. While I would never allow myself to cry, let alone in public, the stations of the cross on Good Friday were the closest to tears I would ever come. Part of me somehow seemed to understand the atonement this service represented. I would kneel throughout the entire service praying for forgiveness for what, I did not know! All I knew was I needed to be there.
Over the years, I have strayed from my religion. Even before the surfacing of my memories of abuse, I had ceased going to church. But I have never strayed from the principles of that religion. I have chosen to live my life guided by what I believed to be the "right thing."
I know that one of the most difficult issues to deal with for many ritualistic abuse survivors can be God or religion. Even many of the survivors of childhood abuse that does not go to the extremes of ritual abuse can have issues with God. At twelve step programs God is commonly referred to as a "higher power" for those who can not handle the term otherwise.
For me, it doesn't really matter, God or higher power. What matters is the values that the term represents. I don't blame God for what did or didn't happen to me. I blame people. God may have given people free will but I would hate to think what life would be like without it.
I still don't go participate in organized religion. There aren't enough hours in the day. I chose to practice my beliefs every minute of every day and not turn them on and off because it's time for church like so many who participate in organized religion. I believe when judgement day rolls around on my list of short comings will not be that I didn't honor the Father.
multiple personality disorder MPD dissociative Identity disorder did
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