View Full Version : My Mind Control Experience
midwich cuckoo
28-04-2007, 02:47 AM
I have undergone trauma based mind control, I did it for money and 'security', I wanted to do something with my life.
I joined the Scottish Infantry back in June 1991, I was 17, young, naive and foolish. I spent my 18th birthday in church, it was Sunday and we were forced to go to church every Sunday, I was miserable, I wanted out.
On top off being homesick and mind controlled, I was being bullied and harrassed non stop, (big deal some of you might say, after all it is the army!). But I was picked on by... everbody including my fellow victims, and the MP's, as I wasn't 'progressing' well enough with the 'training' and was therefore a problem. I was so fed up with the whole thing.
I wont go into much detail as to what I endured but it all came to a head were we were all, almost 50 of us, forced to fight one another, corporals and all, while the seargent and the lieutenant sat and watched.
I was forced to fight a particularly nasty corporal (I wont mention names) who had it in for me right from the start. You know, the type of fully grown man who gains great pleasure in beating up 16-18 year old kids and get paid for it!. His exact words were "I'm having you, cu*t!"
We were the last two left fighting as the rest had submited to their attacker. I refused to submit and he broke my wrist in multiple places by twisting it and everybody was cheering on this whole fucking show!. :mad:
I was due to go to Bosnia and fight alongside these lunatics!.
I bought myself out in the end with only one week before we passed out, along with 25 fellow victims (this was an all time record at Glencourse barracks for people leaving!) and life has been hard ever since, I don't fit in anywhere and I tend to stay away from people, and slowly over time I feel it's impossible for me to make any kind of relationships with anyone!, I think this is something I can never be free from.
So there you go... I'm a survivor of trauma based mind control and it sucks!. :(
midwich cuckoo
28-04-2007, 03:06 AM
Anyway, I'm tired and off to bed, if there's any response to this ramble I'll read it tomorrow.
montag
28-04-2007, 03:16 AM
I'm truly sorry to hear about your experience there MC, I believe we are sent these experiences to help us grow although only you can know if that is true in your case.
Montag
limelady
28-04-2007, 03:37 AM
You poor darling - I'm so sorry you had to go through all this. If I could, I'd like to reach out to you and give you a big hug and take some of your pain away.
You are obviously a loving, kind, gentle soul, and this invasive experience has left a part of you feeling spiritually crushed. Possibly a bit like the feeling of having been raped I suspect. But I would hate to think you will have this hanging over you for the rest of your life. Perhaps talking it all through with empathetic other (like us) will help you over-ride the impact this experience has had on you?
I can only imagine how it must feel to have gone through something like that, but in my heart I know you can rise above this and become a better person for having had the experience....as sick as that may sound....because we can learn and grow from everything that happens to us. good or bad.
I feel your having posted this info for us to read is a brave start to the healing process you're about to go through.
Much love to you
LL :)
truthcommission
28-04-2007, 04:24 AM
So there you go... I'm a survivor of trauma based mind control and it sucks!. :(
You ARE indeed a survivor and the spirit in me recognizes the spirit in you.
You are a REAL human being.
This kind of brutality is not real. It is stems from fear based consciousness. It is what drives highly aggressive and toxic individuals to commit acts of brutality on others. These people have sold their souls.
Remember this Midwich...they can never destroy your spirit. It is invincible.
I have undergone trauma based mind control, I did it for money and 'security', I wanted to do something with my life.
I joined the Scottish Infantry back in June 1991, I was 17, young, naive and foolish. I spent my 18th birthday in church, it was Sunday and we were forced to go to church every Sunday, I was miserable, I wanted out.
On top off being homesick and mind controlled, I was being bullied and harrassed non stop, (big deal some of you might say, after all it is the army!). But I was picked on by... everbody including my fellow victims, and the MP's, as I wasn't 'progressing' well enough with the 'training' and was therefore a problem. I was so fed up with the whole thing.
I wont go into much detail as to what I endured but it all came to a head were we were all, almost 50 of us, forced to fight one another, corporals and all, while the seargent and the lieutenant sat and watched.
I was forced to fight a particularly nasty corporal (I wont mention names) who had it in for me right from the start. You know, the type of fully grown man who gains great pleasure in beating up 16-18 year old kids and get paid for it!. His exact words were "I'm having you, cu*t!"
We were the last two left fighting as the rest had submited to their attacker. I refused to submit and he broke my wrist in multiple places by twisting it and everybody was cheering on this whole fucking show!. :mad:
I was due to go to Bosnia and fight alongside these lunatics!.
I bought myself out in the end with only one week before we passed out, along with 25 fellow victims (this was an all time record at Glencourse barracks for people leaving!) and life has been hard ever since, I don't fit in anywhere and I tend to stay away from people, and slowly over time I feel it's impossible for me to make any kind of relationships with anyone!, I think this is something I can never be free from.
So there you go... I'm a survivor of trauma based mind control and it sucks!. :(
Don't think it's something you can't be free of, know it's something you can be free of.
OK. that was a bit Hokey, but true. I've never undergone anything to that level, however, I will share with you one experience.
I remember being really sad, and not understandinf any of it. My father ahd a horrid temper, doubly so when mixed with alcohol. I can't even remember what i did, or didn't do to deserve it. I can remeber however, gagging on tears and cheap artificial shoeleather.
My father was sitting in his chair. It was the same chair he would sit in for hours playing 'Legend of Zelda." We'd tell him at times we were hungry, but that would only aggrivate him, as to interrupt his game. As if the only thing we were trying to do was piss him off. Sometimes my sister and I would be brave enough to sneak into the kitchen to swallow handfulls of dry, white-label cereal in order to quell the pangs. Many times my mother would wake us up a 3 A.M., after getting home from her bartending job, just to make sure we had eaten. He wasn't playing Zelda though. He was telling us we were dogs.
All the light were off in the house, and I can still see his face lit, pale-blue by the television. He had already beaten us, for whatever we had done, but this night that was not enough. He told us to get down on all fours. If were were going to act like dogs, he was going to treat us like them. I was confused, but even at four, I knew this wasn't punishement. He was getting off on it somehow. I think I even believed it was us that had pushed him over the edge. It's hard to say anymore.
the first thing he did once we were on the ground was beat us with no rhyme or reason, only sparing one for a moment, in order to hit the other and balance his rage. In the middle of this he was screaming. This screaming would haunt me in nightmares and hallucinations for the first 19 years of my life. He was telling us how hard he had it with his mother, and how easy we had it by comparison. then he told us to fetch his shoes, with our mouths. "Like the dogs you are" he'd keep saying, kicking me in the ribs as my little arms and knees tried to shuffle as fast as they could toward the back of the trailer. My sister and I were both crying, and i can still see the look on her face, her head desperately trying to wrap itself around the same confusion I was experiencing. Sometimes you are almost afraidn to think to yourself, in the privacy of your own mind, that this sort of thing isn't right. As if that could bring more retribution.
The shoes were some K-mart knockoff sports shoe, white and grey, worn in so the pleather was cracked and was spotted with spots of grey where it had flaked. My siste rwas ordered to one, I the other. As I picked it up the salt from his sweat gagged me, along with the smell, which could not be avoided. He didn't want us to grab them by the laces, he wanted to humiliate us. Make us dive right in. Like the dogs we are.
The inside lip on the back of the shoe was still moist. I either tried no to think about it at the time or was simply too shocked to think about anything, but I could feel the warm moist cloth on my upper lip, and the taste of sweaty, bacteria filled stuffing sticking otu in the worn spots. We were back in the living room and he sat down again, demanding that we immediatle do the same with his slippers. Back and forth. Bring them. Take them.
After we had shown our obedience. He would make us act as if we were dogs, told to sniff his feet, and sniff each other. Told to speak (to bark). All the while he was explaining to us in roars, "I am your fucking easter bunny! I am your fucking Santa Claus! I am your fucking GOD!"
After he had been satisfied, we would be made to stick our nose against the wall, on a point marked one-two inches above our noses resting height. Like so many nights, he would pass out drunk, on the couch, but we dared not move or attempt to go to sleep. Later that night, my mother came home from work and told us we could go to bed.
The point of all of that. I'm now in a position, at 23, in whick I am creating my life. I still have issues emotuionally, but understand them enough to quell them or at least explain to people "I'm not in a right mind right now and I'm probably acting liek a real dick." I try my best to isolate myself when this occurs. This wasn't a lone event, just one that pops to mind easily, so there were many years of this, speciaically the first seven, but I have taken back my mind through meditiation, self hypnosis, and spiritual reserarch whch inevitably led me here.
I hope this helps. You have all the power you need. It get's easier.
3'LL
P.S. I apologize for the gross errors. It was a bit hard recounting all of that.
peter19
28-04-2007, 10:58 AM
sorry to hear that 3ill. i think people like that(your dad)gowork and get picked on, go to school and they get picked on/humiliated and i think you said hes parents did it to him also. my point behing in my oppinion it is like "i am weak, everyone says that i am" "but i will not have my kids thinking i am, i will be the boss and they will do what i tell them too" ect. but im not takeing away anything from how bad them experiences are (both of them) and its like people live phychopathic lives behing fake all the time, not telling there truth that it can just be like they dont think propply anymore or they do but they "will never let anyone mess with me again" stance.
one thing i think though me is people who have had bad shit happen to them seem much more in the "real" word and also much more compassionate, careing for your fellow human behings, its like experiences like that although bad,hummble you and make you feel a good sense of, i never want to do that to anyone not even a tiny fraction of it.
peace
limelady
28-04-2007, 11:33 AM
3ill. You and your sister....you poor little things.
My god, this world is a cruel place for so many.
My heart goes out to the little children whose innocence was stolen. :(
You have proven to yourself that these wounds can heal.....never forgotten, but can be, and are being healed.
Be proud of yourself. You deserve to be.
Lots of love to you :)
LL
yinjing
28-04-2007, 11:45 AM
midwich cuckoo, is it ok if I question your story a bit? I mean I don't understand how and why you got into the mind control in the first place. I didn't know that you could sign up for that unless you mean the army service itself. What you're talking about seems to take part sometimes afterwards and sounds more like some terrible violence/abuse (in lack of better words) in the army by some perverts. Forgive me if I haven't understood you right.
edelweiss pirate
28-04-2007, 12:12 PM
Don't think it's something you can't be free of, know it's something you can be free of.
OK. that was a bit Hokey, but true. I've never undergone anything to that level, however, I will share with you one experience.
I remember being really sad, and not understandinf any of it. My father ahd a horrid temper, doubly so when mixed with alcohol. I can't even remember what i did, or didn't do to deserve it. I can remeber however, gagging on tears and cheap artificial shoeleather.
My father was sitting in his chair. It was the same chair he would sit in for hours playing 'Legend of Zelda." We'd tell him at times we were hungry, but that would only aggrivate him, as to interrupt his game. As if the only thing we were trying to do was piss him off. Sometimes my sister and I would be brave enough to sneak into the kitchen to swallow handfulls of dry, white-label cereal in order to quell the pangs. Many times my mother would wake us up a 3 A.M., after getting home from her bartending job, just to make sure we had eaten. He wasn't playing Zelda though. He was telling us we were dogs.
All the light were off in the house, and I can still see his face lit, pale-blue by the television. He had already beaten us, for whatever we had done, but this night that was not enough. He told us to get down on all fours. If were were going to act like dogs, he was going to treat us like them. I was confused, but even at four, I knew this wasn't punishement. He was getting off on it somehow. I think I even believed it was us that had pushed him over the edge. It's hard to say anymore.
the first thing he did once we were on the ground was beat us with no rhyme or reason, only sparing one for a moment, in order to hit the other and balance his rage. In the middle of this he was screaming. This screaming would haunt me in nightmares and hallucinations for the first 19 years of my life. He was telling us how hard he had it with his mother, and how easy we had it by comparison. then he told us to fetch his shoes, with our mouths. "Like the dogs you are" he'd keep saying, kicking me in the ribs as my little arms and knees tried to shuffle as fast as they could toward the back of the trailer. My sister and I were both crying, and i can still see the look on her face, her head desperately trying to wrap itself around the same confusion I was experiencing. Sometimes you are almost afraidn to think to yourself, in the privacy of your own mind, that this sort of thing isn't right. As if that could bring more retribution.
The shoes were some K-mart knockoff sports shoe, white and grey, worn in so the pleather was cracked and was spotted with spots of grey where it had flaked. My siste rwas ordered to one, I the other. As I picked it up the salt from his sweat gagged me, along with the smell, which could not be avoided. He didn't want us to grab them by the laces, he wanted to humiliate us. Make us dive right in. Like the dogs we are.
The inside lip on the back of the shoe was still moist. I either tried no to think about it at the time or was simply too shocked to think about anything, but I could feel the warm moist cloth on my upper lip, and the taste of sweaty, bacteria filled stuffing sticking otu in the worn spots. We were back in the living room and he sat down again, demanding that we immediatle do the same with his slippers. Back and forth. Bring them. Take them.
After we had shown our obedience. He would make us act as if we were dogs, told to sniff his feet, and sniff each other. Told to speak (to bark). All the while he was explaining to us in roars, "I am your fucking easter bunny! I am your fucking Santa Claus! I am your fucking GOD!"
After he had been satisfied, we would be made to stick our nose against the wall, on a point marked one-two inches above our noses resting height. Like so many nights, he would pass out drunk, on the couch, but we dared not move or attempt to go to sleep. Later that night, my mother came home from work and told us we could go to bed.
The point of all of that. I'm now in a position, at 23, in whick I am creating my life. I still have issues emotuionally, but understand them enough to quell them or at least explain to people "I'm not in a right mind right now and I'm probably acting liek a real dick." I try my best to isolate myself when this occurs. This wasn't a lone event, just one that pops to mind easily, so there were many years of this, speciaically the first seven, but I have taken back my mind through meditiation, self hypnosis, and spiritual reserarch whch inevitably led me here.
I hope this helps. You have all the power you need. It get's easier.
3'LL
P.S. I apologize for the gross errors. It was a bit hard recounting all of that.
Sounds like trauma based mind control... Is your dad a mason? You're bloodline aren't you? I just googled your family name... coat of arms, 1066 and all that...Your father was programming you, just as mine did with me... but admittedly not as bad as you...
You may even find your that your being involved in a Wicca group is all connected with your past and your family tree.....
Sorry.
Sounds like trauma based mind control... Is your dad a mason? You're bloodline aren't you? I just googled your family name... coat of arms, 1066 and all that...Your father was programming you, just as mine did with me... but admittedly not as bad as you...
You may even find your that your being involved in a Wicca group is all connected with your past and your family tree.....
Sorry.
Nah. He was just a worthless drunk for all I know. He was a former marine, but a shit one. Never did anything great. One of his most proud moments is the fact that he fought in grenada, which was what, a piss? I know very little about my family tree, only that it goes back to the brother of alexander the great (the name that is: Blankenship= Blanken's hope, where alexander's brother was from). I don't think it's Milab stuff, I honestly think it's some kind of demon/ lower fourth dimensional being following our family tree. AndI wasn't involved in anything Wiccan. I just read on it a bit. Didn't get into it because I didn't find it relevant.I'm pretty much against any organized religion, or any organization of more than four working class people/ open minded people. Other's can have it, I just don't want to be part of anything that you have to sacrifice ideals for and there is a time in every organization when people sacrifice ideals fior a "greater good" no matter how minute the sacrifice. I'd be more than interested in what you found. I know a part of my family was cherokee and took an english name to avoid slaughter. Honestly I'm too mutt (mixed) to be important to anyone.
Oh, I responded to your thread.
3'LL
edelweiss pirate
28-04-2007, 04:11 PM
I'm totally working class too, free school dinners, eating fried flour balls for tea because my family had no money (Thatcher' fault, 3 million unemployed).. starting to sound like that 4 Yorkshire men Monty Python sketch.. see below:
Monty Python - Four Yorkshiremen - YouTube
Only in the past few years have I learnt about our family roots (Northern nobility)... my nana was always promised that we would be 'looked after'.. I don't know if my recent encounter with the Illuminati was that promise coming true.... funny kind of looking after if you ask me, they said they could make me a famous writer and shit... but fuck it, the price was to sell out and join their gang, like you I never was much into groups and gangs..
FIRST YORKSHIREMAN:
Aye, very passable, that, very passable bit of risotto.
SECOND YORKSHIREMAN:
Nothing like a good glass of Château de Chasselas, eh, Josiah?
THIRD YORKSHIREMAN:
You're right there, Obadiah.
FOURTH YORKSHIREMAN:
Who'd have thought thirty year ago we'd all be sittin' here drinking Château de Chasselas, eh?
FIRST YORKSHIREMAN:
In them days we was glad to have the price of a cup o' tea.
SECOND YORKSHIREMAN:
A cup o' cold tea.
FOURTH YORKSHIREMAN:
Without milk or sugar.
THIRD YORKSHIREMAN:
Or tea.
FIRST YORKSHIREMAN:
In a cracked cup, an' all.
FOURTH YORKSHIREMAN:
Oh, we never had a cup. We used to have to drink out of a rolled up newspaper.
SECOND YORKSHIREMAN:
The best we could manage was to suck on a piece of damp cloth.
THIRD YORKSHIREMAN:
But you know, we were happy in those days, though we were poor.
FIRST YORKSHIREMAN:
Because we were poor. My old Dad used to say to me, "Money doesn't buy you happiness, son".
FOURTH YORKSHIREMAN:
Aye, 'e was right.
FIRST YORKSHIREMAN:
Aye, 'e was.
FOURTH YORKSHIREMAN:
I was happier then and I had nothin'. We used to live in this tiny old house with great big holes in the roof.
SECOND YORKSHIREMAN:
House! You were lucky to live in a house! We used to live in one room, all twenty-six of us, no furniture, 'alf the floor was missing, and we were all 'uddled together in one corner for fear of falling.
THIRD YORKSHIREMAN:
Eh, you were lucky to have a room! We used to have to live in t' corridor!
FIRST YORKSHIREMAN:
Oh, we used to dream of livin' in a corridor! Would ha' been a palace to us. We used to live in an old water tank on a rubbish tip. We got woke up every morning by having a load of rotting fish dumped all over us! House? Huh.
FOURTH YORKSHIREMAN:
Well, when I say 'house' it was only a hole in the ground covered by a sheet of tarpaulin, but it was a house to us.
SECOND YORKSHIREMAN:
We were evicted from our 'ole in the ground; we 'ad to go and live in a lake.
THIRD YORKSHIREMAN:
You were lucky to have a lake! There were a hundred and fifty of us living in t' shoebox in t' middle o' road.
FIRST YORKSHIREMAN:
Cardboard box?
THIRD YORKSHIREMAN:
Aye.
FIRST YORKSHIREMAN:
You were lucky. We lived for three months in a paper bag in a septic tank. We used to have to get up at six in the morning, clean the paper bag, eat a crust of stale bread, go to work down t' mill, fourteen hours a day, week-in week-out, for sixpence a week, and when we got home our Dad would thrash us to sleep wi' his belt.
SECOND YORKSHIREMAN:
Luxury. We used to have to get out of the lake at six o'clock in the morning, clean the lake, eat a handful of 'ot gravel, work twenty hour day at mill for tuppence a month, come home, and Dad would thrash us to sleep with a broken bottle, if we were lucky!
THIRD YORKSHIREMAN:
Well, of course, we had it tough. We used to 'ave to get up out of shoebox at twelve o'clock at night and lick road clean wit' tongue. We had two bits of cold gravel, worked twenty-four hours a day at mill for sixpence every four years, and when we got home our Dad would slice us in two wit' bread knife.
FOURTH YORKSHIREMAN:
Right. I had to get up in the morning at ten o'clock at night half an hour before I went to bed, drink a cup of sulphuric acid, work twenty-nine hours a day down mill, and pay mill owner for permission to come to work, and when we got home, our Dad and our mother would kill us and dance about on our graves singing Hallelujah.
FIRST YORKSHIREMAN:
And you try and tell the young people of today that ..... they won't believe you.
ALL:
They won't!
midwich cuckoo
28-04-2007, 05:00 PM
midwich cuckoo, is it ok if I question your story a bit? I mean I don't understand how and why you got into the mind control in the first place. I didn't know that you could sign up for that unless you mean the army service itself. What you're talking about seems to take part sometimes afterwards and sounds more like some terrible violence/abuse (in lack of better words) in the army by some perverts. Forgive me if I haven't understood you right.
This was just basic training, what you go through when you first join the army.
I have more to tell from this experience, maybe later as I'm a bit busy at the moment.
Thanks for the replies, it's good to get all this out after so much time.
Edit: 3ill, sorry to here of your past abuse, sounds like you had a hell of a time, glad to see you managed to come out the other side as intact as you have, best wishes man!. :)
midwich cuckoo
29-04-2007, 02:00 AM
While I was at Glencourse and Milton Bridge Barracks in Penicuik, near Edinburgh, Scotland, during June to September 1991, I and four others were forced to clean up a room at the guard house of Milton Bridge barracks with toothbrushes. Ok this does sound cliched and not much to write home about but when you consider that a lance corporal known to us had "shot himself in the head" just a few days beforehand in the very room we were cleaning after it already had had a good clean out, well it seems that way to me as I never came across any blood, never mind hair, teeth, skull fragments or brain matter and I don't think or know if any of the others did.
This lance corporal who really had been shot in the head (no names) had been in charge of rounding us up for our "injections to combat chemical attack or biological attack"... that's what they said.... I hate to think what was in those syringes and when I look at the state my health is in these days, it makes me wonder!.
There was another attempted suicide before this, about three weeks into our training, a boy in my platoon had almost died of an overdose painkillers (big pink ones, can't remember the name). He was found in the shower block, unconcious one morning. He simply couldn't handle what was happening. Neither could I for that matter. I guess they either break you or they don't and the ones that don't are a problem to them and are removed one way or another!. :(
We were repeatedly exposed to "CS gas", they had a building at Glencourse barracks used for this very purpose. Each exposure to gas lasted for about 10 - 15 minutes, we were each equipped with respirators (gas masks) but my respirator was "faulty". I had to endure sitting in a room filled with "CS gas" for almost 15 minutes.
The corporal in charge let us out one by one (I was always the one furthest from the door!). Before we were let out we had to reveal our sexual history to the whole room!.
I was a virgin at the time and felt embarrased to admit it, so I lied just to get the fuck out of there and not be picked on about being a virgin aswell!.
There's more joyfull accounts of this torture camp which I may or may not share, depends how comfortable I feel about talking about it.
midwich cuckoo
29-04-2007, 05:04 PM
I know all this sounds hard to believe. In fact a lot of my life has been unbelievable, but I want you all to know I am telling the 100% truth about everything, this is why I came to this forum, to get it all out. I suppose it doesn't really matter if anyone even reads this, just for me to know I am getting the truth out there helps me come to terms with just what has happened in my life. :)
[/ramble]
I know all this sounds hard to believe. In fact a lot of my life has been unbelievable, but I want you all to know I am telling the 100% truth about everything, this is why I came to this forum, to get it all out. I suppose it doesn't really matter if anyone even reads this, just for me to know I am getting the truth out there helps me come to terms with just what has happened in my life. :)
[/ramble]
it looks like others are reading it, m.c., and it is helping others, like 3ill, and even me, who has never been in the militatry. i've definitely seen a change in your posts, my friend. :)
e.p., thanks for the monty python fix; i'd never seen that one. now i now where dana carvey got his grumpy old man:
Grumpy Old Man: I'm old and I'm not happy. Everything today is improved and I don't like it. I hate it! In my day we didn't have hair dryers. If you wanted to blow dry your hair you stood outside during a hurricane. Your hair was dry but you had a sharp piece of wood driven clear through your skull and that's the way it was and you liked it! You loved it. Whoopee, I'm a human head-kabob.
We didn't have Manoxidol and Hair Wings, in my day if your hair started falling out when you were 16 by 19 you were a bald freak. There was nothing you could do about it. Children would spit at you and nobody would mate with you so you couldn't pass on your disgusting baldness genes. You were a public menace, a crome dome by age 20 and that's the way it was and we liked it! We loved it. Hallelujiah look at me, I'm a bald freak oh happy day!
Not like today, everybody feeling good about themselves. I hate it! In my day we didn't have these thin laytex condoms. So you could enjoy sexual pleasure. In my day there was only one kind of condom. You took a rabbit skin and wrapped around your privates and tied it off with a bungee cord and you couldn't feel nothing! And half the time you didn't even know your partner was there. And we used the same one over and over again! 'Cause we were ignorant morons! Just a bunch of hairless, head-kabobs standing around with rabbit skins on our dinks and that's the way it was and we liked it!
I don't think it's Milab stuff, I honestly think it's some kind of demon/ lower fourth dimensional being following our family tree. AndI wasn't involved in anything Wiccan. I just read on it a bit....I'd be more than interested in what you found. I know a part of my family was cherokee and took an english name to avoid slaughter. Honestly I'm too mutt (mixed) to be important to anyone.
3ill, your story reminded me of my own family, but also of someone very dear to me. she is of mixed cherokee ancestry, and she was subject to the most vile kind of physical abuse before the age of verbalization, the kind where most children end up institutionalized with severe psychosis. the most dramatic example was that her father pushed her into a wringer washer, was left there, and she had her arms nearly amputated because of it.
but the interesting thing that she shared with my wife and i one time was that during some past life work, she had 'seen' that she and her father had 'volunteered' for their life together, to work through some very deep karma for their particular family. it wouldn't surprise me at all that their were entities out there who would be none too happy about this prospect.
i didn't mean to be so dramatic about this, but i think that what you're talking about is more common than anyone realizes. in my own case, i feel one of my 'agreements' was to come here to break the chain of alcoholism, which stretches back on both sides of my family as far as anyone remembers. my son is twenty one on thursday, and, while he has imbibed, he drinks about once every 3 months, and never to excess. so perhaps, i've already completed my mission and purpose on this planet at this time. everything else is just icing on the cake! :)
i'm suggesting that what if, just what if you incarnated at this place and this time because you were the one strong enough to let go of the past, and heal the emotional plague in your bloodline. same with you, m.c., same with me.
that would be an entirely new way of looking at our baggage, wouldn't it?
3ill, your story reminded me of my own family, but also of someone very dear to me. she is of mixed cherokee ancestry, and she was subject to the most vile kind of physical abuse before the age of verbalization, the kind where most children end up institutionalized with severe psychosis. the most dramatic example was that her father pushed her into a wringer washer, was left there, and she had her arms nearly amputated because of it.
but the interesting thing that she shared with my wife and i one time was that during some past life work, she had 'seen' that she and her father had 'volunteered' for their life together, to work through some very deep karma for their particular family. it wouldn't surprise me at all that their were entities out there who would be none too happy about this prospect.
i didn't mean to be so dramatic about this, but i think that what you're talking about is more common than anyone realizes. in my own case, i feel one of my 'agreements' was to come here to break the chain of alcoholism, which stretches back on both sides of my family as far as anyone remembers. my son is twenty one on thursday, and, while he has imbibed, he drinks about once every 3 months, and never to excess. so perhaps, i've already completed my mission and purpose on this planet at this time. everything else is just icing on the cake! :)
i'm suggesting that what if, just what if you incarnated at this place and this time because you were the one strong enough to let go of the past, and heal the emotional plague in your bloodline. same with you, m.c., same with me.
that would be an entirely new way of looking at our baggage, wouldn't it?
Your coming from where I'm from, man. That's exactly what I think only adding in that were are the next phase in evolution on the scientific side, and reaching an age of love and enlightenment in the spiritual.