I've learned something about the media while watching the Supreme Court in the Russian Federation. I've learned the importance of knowing your media sources and recognizing bias in individual journalists. When reading articles on several major media outlets I noticed huge misrepresentations and out right falsehoods reported about Jehovah's Witnesses. I've seen half truths and 'bated wording' that give a false impression. Seeing such articles has made me more aware of journalist bias in other areas of the news.
I'm writing today about the decision the Russian Federation has made against my spiritual family. Although the Supreme Court of the Russian Federation banned Jehovah's Witnesses and criminalize our activities, I have never been more proud of carrying his name or worshiping with his people.
I'm pleased to have been part of the letter writing campaign in response to the court case, and I look forward to supporting my brothers and sisters in Russia any way I can.
A few short days ago, all buildings, bank accounts and properties were seized by the Federation. Anyone worshiping as one of Jehovah's Witnesses can receive anywhere from 5 to 20 years per 'illegal' act of worship.
I've watched the video reaction from the world headquarters of JW's in New York and am solemn concerning the decision, but encouraged by the faith my spiritual brothers and sisters have shown in Russia and across the globe.
I hugged the lady very tight. She knows my sister. She gave me an update. My sister has locked herself in the apartment and there is still no movement, no contact, nothing has changed. They do know she was last seen in there. No phone activity, no FB activity.
I hand wrote a letter to her. I said nothing negative at all. I said she doesn't deserve to die and that I understand a lot of what she's going through. I asked her to rethink things, to let her support system do what she gathered them to do. She sought out good, solid supporters. I know 2 of them personally.
Of her friends, I asked them to have patience with her. She's a 50-year-old woman who doesn't know what to do with herself. She has to be told what to do and when she's told, she will do exactly as she's instructed. She won't do more or less. The lady kept looking at me like it should be simple for her to function because she's a 50-year-old woman. I said, she's not a 50-year-old woman who has matured. Being on her own is culture shock. She has no clue what she's doing, none. I shared the story that tells exactly how she thinks. I told the story about the garbage bag that my mother told her to get. She got the bag and then waited to be told to put the trash in it. Her friend put her hand over her mouth then said, that's exactly what she does. She waits to be told what to do.
The dream where I was found guilty of neglecting my child self as well as not protecting my siblings still haunts me. I go back and forth about my sister, one minute managing okay and the next minute standing still in a locked stare. I've sketched, painted, cleaned, eaten and slept feeling vulnerable and strong enough for that vulnerability. What was before the feeling of 'strong enough' can only be described at chaotic, second to second existence.
I have been in patient psych over 150 times since 1992. Two hospitals are designed to treat dissociative disorders, one was a state hospital in Kentucky and the others were short-term stays in across Indiana, Texas, Michigan and Kentucky. Early on I was in a group home and then bounced around from apartment to apartment in an unstable existence. I had zero control over my personality disorder, zero coping skills to help with self harm of cutting and abuse of food. For the first ten years or so of therapy I was clueless about caring for myself physically or emotionally.
Today's therapy discussion focused on family matters: mother's thorough brainwashing and effective divisive tactics, scapegoating, emotional boundaries between myself and all birth family and a recap of nightmares from a few days back. After writing this entry I was reminded of the paintings "Resilience Tree," so I included them in the entry.
I was awake all night and until around 10:30 this morning. I had my session to go over the graphically violent and blood dream about cannibals and going to a psychiatric prison for the mentally insane because I was guilty of murdering my child self, the inner child of my sister and the inner child of my brother. I'll pick up more on that topic later.
We talked about the complete lack of protection from my mother: physical, emotional and spiritual responsibilities were ignored or out right withheld.
Content: Suicide, strong emotion. This entry may not be considered politically correct. Comments and likes are off.
I slept well and hoped to have a better day but my head is still spinning, this time with anger.
As much as I don't want to see things go in the direction, they're going, I can't do anything about it. I have zero ability to contact her now. Showing up to where she used to work or anything like that is a terrible idea. Seeing the face of someone she hates isn't going to make her change her mind. The more I think about it, the more upset I am. I think it's cruel to watch and count down and not be able to do a single, solitary thing. The truth is, if she wants to, she's going to. Can someone else talk to her, they have, repeatedly and she's made up her mind. She left and is no longer answering calls. No response to anyone, at all. SHE HAS A THERAPIST !!!!!!
My mother is dead. My brother is dead. My sister is wasting away, drowning in guilt, anger and fear. I have no inheritance. Its gone because my mother did not protect it. No one thinks to themselves, I may have someone take over everything because I'm going to develop Alzheimer's.
In 1992 when I left that home I knew I'd caused major upset in family dynamics. When I changed my name I knew I'd given up absolutely everything that would have come to me, everything. The thing is, do we ever really expect our parents to die when we look at them as gods? When they stand tall as tyrants over the children they abuse, they're seen as all powerful, unstoppable. There is no future, there's nothing to ground you, nothing to hold on to. So how could I have really known she'd truly disown me and that she and my sister would pretend I do not exist? It wasn't until 2012 that I discovered they'd erased me from their lives. She presented herself as a woman with one daughter. My sister presented herself as an only child.
As a child, my mother showed only her professional side to onlookers. She was well put together and had guys flanking her. If you've ever seen a guy rush to open a door for a pretty girl, that's what happened to my mother all the time. She truly was physically beautiful, but her focus was money and doling out pain.
I don't remember how old I was and for the life of me I can't remember what school I went to or what home I was in. I just remember knowing I had to get help because she was going to kill us. We were in trouble. The mother was going to drive the car over the bridge and kill us. Before we reached the bridge which separates the states, she stopped at a rest stop. I remember walking in and seeing the maps and noticing how clean the glass was on the windows.
I left the welcome center and restroom area before them which gave me the opportunity to see that a car had pulled up and parked a bit away from our car. Right then and there I had the chance to say something. I got to the car and wrote down my name and address. I said we needed help and that our mother had been ranting and raving and that she stated very clearly she was going to kill us. I was sure to say she wasn't kidding and that the note wasn't a joke. After I scribbled that letter in the back seat of the car, I got back out and walked over to their car where a woman and a child sat with the passenger side open. I tossed the folded paper at her with my left hand and kept walking. She said, you dropped something. I kept on walking as if nothing happened.
When I was a kid and I moved around from home to home, I had the legal right to contact Jehovah's Witnesses and talk to them. I contacted them every single chance I could.
Since I had so much contact with Jehovah's Witnesses through various avenues, it stands to reason that I'd run into some of them now. I ran into the daughter of a woman my sister and I stayed with. She knows me. She remembers how bad it was and what we came from. She knows my birth name. She knows I have multiple personality disorder. I felt naked standing in front of her but I couldn't help but think to myself, Faith, you lived through impossible situations. Your reality, Faith, is that you lived when others didn't. That means something. That took a lot of work. And I'm still alive. That means something. It takes a lot of work just to exist. Yeah, my mind is fractured and my body is ... broken.... but how amazing is it to have an opportunity to truly live in freedom from ... them? How amazing and .... nauseating. The memories and nightmares associated with enduring her makes me nauseous but they do not erase the fact that I have an enduring spirit and that I truly understand what it means to be free.
I have a Ph.D in worrying. I have what I need for this month. I'm not in a collection status on anything so why I flip out over money is beyond me.
I heard from that girl again. While at the grocery store I received another round of cruelty from the visitor I had weeks ago. I don't know her that well and will keep it that way. I like helping people otherwise I wouldn't go through training to do so, but that's not my field. I didn't sign up for that. For someone who hardly knows me and me her, she sure is able to hit on issues that sting and leave a mark. She knows exactly where to direct those missiles. Liar. Manipulative, attention seeker, no one likes me, no manners, a bad daughter, crazy, evil, ungrateful . She told me I need to get on my knees and grovel. I need to be able to take a slap from someone sometimes and let myself be corrected.
Chil u 'bout 2 drive me ta drinkin'.
I was at the grocery store getting bombarded with texts about how horrible of a person I am.... I've got 99 problems but not knowing how to block a phone number isn't one!
Ya know, words hurt. Words hurt even when the words are from a stranger. They hurt when said by a person who may not be fully responsible for their actions. 'You' might wonder what I said in response. I'm pretty good at running off at the mouth but that's something I'm trying to change, too. There was no reason to respond to such texts. I'm learning that I don't have to speak and that sometimes its best not to. I was mad for sure but mad doesn't justify adding fuel to the fire. I am trying to upgrade my life my controlling my tongue. I'm a student of life with so much to learn.
I don't like to name call. I say on this blog that people are terminally stupid and so-in-so is a jackass, but I absolutely never say it to anyone's face because WORDS HURT! ...continue reading →
5:08 pm EST
I'm lost in this, trying to get out of my skin. This hurts so bad and I'm scared. I hate this!!
I've been hitting 9's since Sunday. It's not immediate, it's a gradual rise as I move around, as the air hits me or I move my head and my hair moves across my back. My eyes close and it hurts, my fingers move across the keyboard and it hurts. I hurt, everywhere.
The last few days I've tried to distract myself online and around the house. I've even tried to ignore the pain but today is a day where I say enough, it's pain med time. I'm going to try to make myself comfortable and see if I can get some sleep. I'd rather not stay awake during this, not if I don't have to. But I don't want to go to sleep. I want my muscles to stop spasming so hard in my shoulders. I want to get things done, and I'm hungry.