I mentioned people believing in the big bang but nothing extraordinary in between.
I do.
My dreams are reoccurring about two famous people. One being Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam. In 1993 in London, I was vacationing with my family. I had my baby son with me. I went to bed stressed one night as my Mother and I got into or should I say she verbally attacked me for something I had no part of. they say crisis can open channels during dreams. I’m not sure what that meant, anyway, I Went to bed and had this LUCID dream of Eddie Vedder in a bar. Someone was harassing him. The police came and took him away. I wondered why it felt so intense when I woke up. I was in the upper corner of the bar watching the dream happen. Astral projection perhaps?
It woke up something and I started following their music because the dream felt like a message dream. Cut to 2 months later I’m in the car with my husband reading a People Magazine and suddenly see an article that Ed had been arrested in New Orleans for spitting on a bartender. It happened the week I had been in London. So did I see it live in my sleep? Did I dream it the day before it happened? I’m not sure. I was blown away by the blissful feeling like why am I connected to this man I don’t know? My Grandmother gave me the magazine randomly. What if she had never given me the mag? But she did. The dream never left me so when I read about the incident two months later, I was blown away. I told my husband what I just read and about the dream and his response was. Oh. (nothing) That’s ok. IT’s my own trip.
Since then, this was in 93, I’ve kept a dream journal for decades. I proceeded over the next 20 years to have lucid dreams of Eddie Vedder. I keep them all written down because even if the dream was 15 years ago, when I re read it, I can remember how it made me feel. Every dam one of the dreams was about him protecting me like a father. All angelic. To close, much later on I lived in his neighborhood by chance…..the synchronicities with him got even bigger when that happened.
This was written when I was having doubt. About myself. About my abilities.
Recently I’ve gone from hope to hopelessness. For the past 17 years I’ve experienced what some would call the paranormal. I’ve documented some of these experiences in this blog. The past eight years I’ve experienced what I thought was telepathy. I started having experiences I could not explain. I was diagnosed Bi Polar in 2003 but a few years after that I realized I think I was misdiagnosed. I had a thyroid that went into hyper thyroid due to a clinic prescribing too much thyroid which mimic the signs of bi polar. I didn’t know it then so I accepted the diagnoses and have been on and off medications that made my life a living hell.
I’ve never talked with my psychiatrist about the telepathy for fear of being diagnosed sczhophrenic. I don’t hear voices, I get feelings in my body when it feels like the telepathy is there. I could get deep in a meditative trance and suddenly it felt like someone was there. Cannabis has always helped me in meditation as it helped me to deeply relax.
I’ve documented in my hand written journal all that has happened to me that made me sure I was gifted with some type of paranormal ability. This connection at first made me really scared. Not of the telepathy but more scared about how it was happening. I pushed it away. I tried not to believe it. I at times was manic and recieving so much information that I thought my brain would explode. I also have lucid dreams of this person (who shall remain namesless).
I was told in the 90’s by a friend who was a well respected psychic and channeler that I should attend one of psychic friends meetings. I was confused why he wanted me there. Once in the meeting, I was told by several others that I had a gift, but I didn’t know I had it or how to use it.This was the reason for my depression. I wasn’t using my gifts. It took 15 more years until my abilities become to show. I believe using cannabis helped as it opened my mind to new things and different ways to see the world. I don’t talk to dead people. I don’t believe I am a medium but I do believe in mediumship. I’ve had too many readings where relatives that passed on gave me messages through mediums. As much as I believe in these abilities I was a skeptic within myself.
It wasn’t until 2012 when the telepathy hit me hard. A man I have never met but have communicated in real life started being in my mind all the time. I tried to understand why I was thinking of him often. It came on strong and hard. At that time, in the begginning, I was not questioning it. I just went with the flow. As time passed it slowed down, but it was stronger than ever. I can’t begin to type out all the incidents that happened or were given to make me believe in myself. Never being able to talk about something to your friends and family without sounding absolutely insane takes a toll. Especially not being able to talk about it with the other. When I talk about it to my Mother she listens but it sounds so ridiculous. The man I have telepathy with has never validated me in real life, but things happened in the other realm that were hard for me to ignore.
Two years ago I went to a medium I really respect. He knew nothing of my situation. He did a tarot reading. He said: “You embraced something five years ago you didn’t want to embrace. You made a good decision.” I decided maybe God or the Universe had gifted me with something extraordinary so I went the other way. I decided to embrace it. Why not try to believe it? So I decided to believe in it since not believing in it made me unhappy. This is what the medium saw. He indicated that I should never go back to doubt and keep embracing it no matter what others think or what I doubt.
I don’t hear voices. It’s more like simultaneous thought. In psychic development classes they train you to notice changes in your body when you are with spirit. For example, when working with spirit guides,they will often give you signals in your body. A touch. A jerking. It’s different for everyone. Well when I’m communicating with the other I often feel little jerks in my left leg. (I realize that sounds nuts!) But this is the way it can happen. An additional sign that something is there.
The heart wrenching part of having the belief that one has a special ability is that if there is no real validation from the other, the mind becomes confused. It’s a matter of faith. To believe in something you can’t explain takes courage and hard work. The love for this person has grown with time, yet the person never shows up.
Today as I write this, I’ve been worried it will go away. Yet again as much joy as it brings me it also brings the pain of longing for this person. Maybe God will take away my love for this person as it’s causing me suffering. I don’t really mean that.
I’m abnormal. Maybe my paranormal is not normal.
I feel so empty and hopeless. The very thing that changed my life for the better, I’m afraid has left me. Being abandoned is one of my biggest fears. When it tries to come through maybe I should ignore it although I don’t want to. When my life is dark, I could always lay down and get into trance and there he was. Someone other worldly, caring for you. (Although since this is not a ghost he is not always there because he is alive and has a life outside this) That sounds crazy.
I wonder is this as good as it gets? 57. Alone. Destined to get old without the love of someone who loves me in an other worldly way. A person inside who knows me better than myself, is an extraordinary feeling, yet no one is coming to prove me right. This is what I prayed for over and over that what I thought was happening was really real. To know myself so well and to be able to say, oh my God I was right. Telepathy is real. To say “I had faith and it turned out to be real” would feel amazing.
The only real thing in my life is illness and maybe just an active fantasy life. Still there are so many things I can’t write here that proved I was going in the right direction. If some screenwriter got a hold of my journals there would be an amazing and miraculous story there within the trauma I’ve suffered. (A whole other story)
God only knows what I will be when I’m 77, reading my old journals and realizing how wrong and ridiculous I was.
Maybe this is schizophrenia after all. My heart is broken. It’s like God went out of his way to give me gifts and then decided to take them back.
And if you are reading this and you know it’s you I speak of, please for God sake, let it be true that it’s you.
As I read this again today, I realize this connection has not gone away. My lesson here is to learn to accept that which is given to us and be patient for an outcome. Everything changes. There will be a day when I know the truth, for now I am grateful for what I’ve got.
(It is difficult to talk about trauma and even harder to type it out. Thus why this may read badly)
Firstly I would say you have been the most decent psychiatrist I’ve had. You are kind, cooperative and open. It’s taken a long time to get to this high level of health (other than psychiatric drug side effects)
Thank you. I would like to continue to see you as I feel respect for you, despite the things I will question in this letter. I hope this will help me express my feelings since I have so little time in session with you.
I’m very puzzled why my diagnoses has changed from bi polar to Schizoaffective psychosis. I saw the new label on the blood work paper you sent.
Unless it was just a typo, which means, I should stop typing now.
I felt safe mentioning my interest in telepathy because you thought taking psychic development classes was a good idea when I mentioned it. You actually encouraged it. I even jokingly ask “so I’m not schizophrenic or anything?” (Loss of personal power) and your reply was “no.” I was surprised and happy you said this. You seemed to have an open mind and because of this I took it a tiny bit further and spoke on telepathy. Believe me, I’ve learned to censor myself with past Drs because they misunderstand my life. After seeing you for two years, I felt you were more open. Like synchronicity. Coined by Carl Jung. I’m interested in these unexplainable things that happen to me since I was child and never has it caused my quality of life to suffer.
This telepathic feeling started 8 years ago at 49 and believe me, I’ve documented it as a researcher would. I was not on meds most of my life and I was not then. If you could spend more time talking to me, maybe at least 30 minutes, compared to the 5 minutes you give me, you would know that I don’t take myself that seriously, Of course “normal” society will always laugh at someone who says this, as does psychiatry see it as delusions and diseased. I don’t always believe I have telepathy, it just happens sometimes like deja vu. That’s not a mental condition is it?
I actually I spend more time doing other things in my day, then lay around talking to someone who is not there. (Which I still do at times in meditation)
I care for my elderly Mother, I care for my little Grandchildren. I write, I have journaled everything that has happened to me since 1994. I have a blog with over 200 essays, much about the trauma from this profession has done to me. I like to think I can experimenting and think on unusual events. It’s my brain after all. What I do with it and how I think and imagine is not a disease unless it’s causing me suffering. I’m a Buddhist. I know about suffering.
Drs make me suffer.
I even Volunteered for years distributing items for needy Mothers no did I go around telling my clients what’s in my mind. Isn’t that sanity?
I do have some sort of telepathy but it does not control my life. I’m too self aware and intelligent to do that because it does feel crazy. I make up my own mind when I choose to be interested in something. It’s a fringe hobby, sometimes it’s real. I still hang out with friends and learn about physics, something I wish I was smart enough to study in University. Why your profession is not investigating this instead of drugging people, you may a grander profession working with something new.
Regardless Who why have changed my label? ……And without discussing it with me? I’ve never asked about this new label. It might have been a mistake on paperwork.
I’ve carried the stigma of bi polar from when I was misdiagnosed in 03. Something you have refused to understand about me. When I start talking about it I am always interrupted.
I’ve been wrongly labeled for 17 years and now the whole medical system will see me as schzoaffective disorder. I will be further stigmatized. Even the government sees this label. It’s just a label some would say. It is not. It’s not private. It goes everywhere. Even if you want a job. I do not want attending a psychic development class or my interest in mediums (some are friends) to stamp a label on my head as a delusional person. I’m not a disease.
Is someone mentally ill if they talk to Jesus or pray or believe in chakra healing?
Where does this stop?
This is all subjective.
I’m looking for that kind of Dr. that can weigh the patients sane behavior against the DMVS or whatever that book is called, which by the way is the most dangerous book on the planet. Labeling every human trait as illness.
When I saw that label it hurt me to the core and further added more shit onto of my trauma. It underpins everything about me.
It attacks my faith.
My intuition and my believe in myself.
My self confidence.
It honestly made me feel extreme hopelessness. That no one is listening to me.
I feel like I’ve been bullied by every other terrible Dr. I’ve come in contact with. Triggering. The idea that someone I trusted told me I was not really me. I’m not your other patients. You realize I’m intelligent mentally. You’ve called me very self aware. What you don’t know about is me is that I’m actually a skeptic of telepathy.
There much research being done all over the world on telepathy. There is a whole new group of scientist looking at telepathy and other psychic abilities. Not everyone who is psychic is psychotic. I know a group of a least 50 men and women who attend Progressive Spiritualist Church. A Christian church full of mediums. Many are older than I. The advice I’ve received when I took classes with them was
‘always listen to your intuition.’
Your inner knowingness. I was not taught to hear voices and I never have in my life. Never! But you don’t know that. You are just comparing me to other patients as you do them to me.
(the next part of the letter may not read well because it’s to hard to correct or re read stories of the horrible things that is happened to me. I apologize if it’s not correct)
I also was never diagnosed with anything until the bad thyroid mess in 2003 at 40, where I was misdiagnosed bi polar in 15 minutes in an ER. No blood work. No medical history. Later I found the bottle of thyroid medication I took two weeks before the ER visit. It showed a mistake made by a local clinic where they changed my dosage. I had a thyroid storm going on. I did not know this at the ER. I took them for 8 years. Not being able to get off cold turkey.
I got off meds on my own in 2011. It was hell but I got through withdrawal to go back to the real me. I was fine for two years, when I had a bladder condition that put me in the ER at St. Vincent’s. They put me on morphine due to the pain but started talking about the fact i was bi polar. (unaware, all the while I had interstitial cystitis) No family member was there to advocate for me.
I woke up drugged on the floor in the stress center for my bladder and they forced drugged me. No Dr. is horrified by my story. No one cares. Psychiatry has harmed me. This is my history, the worst thing in the world that has happened to me. To be pushed around by bad Drs. Years of this. 17 years. You wonder why I have anxiety? PTSD from health care that was suppose to help me. But this new diagnoses is another “rape” of my mind and who I feel I am. Like during that visit was screaming in pain because I needed bladder procedure. I laid on the floor of a room crying when some Dr. apparently not a Urologist said to me.
“Take your pants down and spread your legs.” He was halfway across the room and I thought why do I have to take my pants down? Bladder condition is invisible. You can’t see bladder unless you have the procedure I needed. He looked at my genitals from 6 feet way “Everything looks fine to me.”and left. ? Please try to imagine your patient having this happen to her?
If you actually knew me, what you would see is a smart, self reliant woman who is a creative screenwriter. A thinker. I feeler. I am a woman whose had horrible trauma from psychiatry. The profession MADE me sick. How do we know it isn’t these meds that’s making me have psychos? What if the anti psychotics are actually making me think I might be telepathic? Let’s just say someone does not have bi polar and starts taking his friend’s meds? What would it do to the person’s brain if they were not bi polar? This is my point. Please do not traumatized me further by labeling me again. I do not feel or have the symptoms of a person with schizophrenic behaviors. I would please like you to change it back to bi polar please. Or better yet someday. Get me off meds and take the bi polar label off my forehead.
What I would like, together with you, is to concentrate on weaning me off lithium and zyprexa before my kidney’s fail or I get diabetes due to obesity. I desire to focus on getting off. These drugs are damaging my body and mind. The long term side effects are dangerous, as you know. I’m willing to take a year or two to wean off. I’d like you, my doctor to help me through it. I would never go off meds on my own. That’s why I need your help. Which also proves there is nothing wrong with me except, loneliness and past trauma that I get through with by meditating and keeping God near me and keep the faith.
I just want to say in advance. I do have a very clever Psychiatrist now. It took 15 years to find one that did not scare me.
Just wanted to make that plain. Not all Dr’s are bad.
Update. As of March 2021 that doctor is gone.
Back into the pit of snakes that want to wrap themselves around me. None will help free me from this medication that is almost impossible to withdrawal from.
I’m going to try to make this short because writing over and over about this topic triggers terrible PTSD and trauma for me.
I was introduced to psychiatric drugs in 92. I was 29. I just had a baby. I experienced post partum depression. At 6 weeks out my OB/GYN who had been sold the new drug Prozac by Eli Lilly here in my hometown of Indiana. If I were smarter and knew what I know now I would have refused. I’d had no mental health problems all my life. He handed me a script for it and said “you have to take this the rest of your life.” What the fuck? Why. Sadly I believed him. I took it and it helped for a short time. Then they switch to Zoloft. I became manic. I didn’t even know what that meant. I did things I would never do and the worst most horrific truth of that side effect, I left my husband. He was a wonderful man. I became a monster due to these drugs.
Skip to 2003 I was misdiagnosed on a violent ER in Seattle. In 10 minutes the doctor said I had bi polar. What was actually happening was my thyroid condition had been overdosed by a clinic. The symptoms I had in ER were actually from having my thyroid put into hyper thyroid. They never ask about my thyroid. They never gave me a blood test. Because of my thyroid blowing up, I had suicidal ideation. I didn’t know what was happening to me. I was thrown into a ER cell in psych area and left to piss on myself and they committed me to the psych ward at Harborview Hospital. I felt like I was in some kind of conspiracy. I experience torture and hallucinations as the drug Lithium and others they gave me kicked in. I was lobotomized. I couldn’t question what was happening to me. I had no advocate. This started a decade of abuse by psych wards and psychiatrists. Horrific things happened to me as my mind began to stop working. When I told my boyfriend at the time that I wanted off this shit, when I would stop taking it, cold turkey, which i had no idea was dangerous, my mind became worse. This the horrors of these meds. The minute you stop taking it, the withdrawal symptoms become so horrific that the dr. insists you take it. “The reason you feel bad is because you stopped your medications.” This IS CRIMINAL. I’m not a violent person but looking back on what they did to me and my life, I’d like to blow the brains out of these monster Drs. No maybe what is a better revenge is to force them to take the drugs they forced on me when I was not mentally ill. I lost my home again. My boyfriend lied to police and put me in jail when I was withdrawaling from the meds.
During 2003 to 2011 I was put on at least 20 different anti psychotic meds. They would change them every other month. My insurance forced me to the haunted house psychiatry group. They would give me a different doctor everytime. Once I gave a history to a 22 intern. I talked about these dreams nice dreams I had had of Eddie Vedder since 93. Later I saw my medical records and it said “patient thinks she is talking to Kurt Cobain from the grave.” OMG? Once I saw another new asshole and when he walked in he had a 2 inch thick file on me. I said hello. He just starred at me. I ask, well what do you think today about me. “I know one thing, he said, “you are completely delusional.” He had never seen or spoken to you. I told him to fuck off and left his office in tears.
I was off meds for almost 2 years from 2011 to 2013. I got my body back. I could write again but the long term taking of these drugs can cause withdrawal symptoms for years. I honestly believe I have been part of some mass conspiracy to poison millions of people that never needed these drugs.
I ended up with a bladder condition, called Interstitial Cystitis. A painful chronic spasm of the bladder with no cure only yearly surgery. I didn’t know what it was. I went to an ER back in Indianapolis. St. Vincent’s Hospital in Indianapolis. The same place I had given birth to my son 20 years before.
They gave me morphine for the pain and then started quizzing me about my “bi Polar” and why I was not on meds. I told them they made me sick. They thought I was just looking for pain meds. No urologist checked me. Something bad happened. (I can not say at this time what happened but lets just say, it felt like I had a baby) They left me alone in a room in stirrups and water was flowing out of me. I try not to remember that.
When that was over, They locked me in the room and all the machines were going off beeping like a distraction and outside the room I heard a terrible racket. Like there were people shooting other people with some kind of pop gun. By then the morphine had worn off. Doors were slamming. People were yelling. Then they came back into room and gave me a pill and something to drink. I passed out. The next thing I know I woke up on the floor of their Stress Center. On the floor! Two nurses sat at desk staring at me. I cried out for someone to help me. Why was I there. I had a bladder problem. They forced Haldol on me and I became lobotomized. I had no one to advocate for me.
The last day I was suppose to be there a shit faced fuck head psychiatrist interviewed me. He ask how I was feeling. I told him I was not suppose to be in here. I had a bladder problem. I had been off meds for two years and now I was back on them, having to withdrawal again on my own. Conspiracy? YES.
Then he ask if I had telepathy. lol Do you think I’m going to tell you about my spiritual life? He ask if I could talk to Jesus. I laughed again and said yes, I’m talking to him right now. I had to stand up to this dick head. He hated it. What is wrong with talking to Jesus? He said, “you have to stay three more days and I’m changing your meds.” I stood up and went into main room and screamed “this is criminal! I”m not taking anymore of your poison.” The room and other patients went silent as the grave. A nurse came up to me and whispered, “just take it so you can get out of here.”
The bladder thing and the ER and putting locked up in psych ward happened two more times in next two years.
Jump to today. I’ve been on Lithium for 3 years. I’ve been on Serequel for same amount of time. I started have night terrors every night. My weight went from 160 to 212 which is what I am now. I do like the my Dr. but when I ask him why he kept upping seroquel to fix nightmares that got worse and worse, his ego was deflated so he stopped talking to me. Then he passed me to a sleep dr who saw no nightmares and I told her I was weaning off serequel. She deflected from night mares to my smoking and tried to scare me that I had COPD which I do not. She ordered oxygen at night but nightmares continued. I called the other morning to talk to nurse after waking from horrific night terror and the dead voiced nurse said, “the dr wants a drug screen.” For what? I said. Are you trying to tell me that I’m using crack or cocaine and since she has no fucking idea what to do about my nightmares nor does she call my shrink to say “hey maybe it’s her anti psychotic” (dr.s do not consult with each other) Fucking nightmare. So my sleep dr passed me back to my primary dr. to go to Neuroscience. I have been asking for MRI for two years and NOBODY will look at my brain. I’m sure I have brain damage. What are they afraid of? Back in Seattle years before they gave me a MRI and put a hypnotic suggestion that I had something in brain and then changed their minds. Left me with years of feeling scared that something could be in there. Still live with that but just let the thought pass. What kind of nasty experiment have I been in for years?
I’m actually doing well. I’m weaning myself off serequel. I’ve gone from 200 at night to 50 at night but I’m alone doing it. No one will help me. I’m so traumatized from years of abuse from the medical community. I live alone. I am on disability. I worked all my life. Great jobs. Film sets. Manager. Laser operator. I now am 56 and look to God and ask
What the hell have you let them do to me? Am I in danger still. Does someone want me dead for some reason. Am I the Holy Grail? lol I’m so sad and lonely. I do everything on my own. I pay my rent I can take out my trash, I can watch my little Grandchildren but I’m traumatized.
The way I have adapted is I do feel I have a telepathic connection to two men I know but aren’t here. (that story is private for now) This connection feels like pure protection. I often feel it says to me, don’t worry, we are watching and taking care of you. Jesus is with me too. Perhaps what has happened to me will cause something wonderful to happen and this won’t happened to anyone again.
My inner child is waiting for love. For Prince Charming. The only way my heart can keep going after my life was destroyed by a pill.
If this has happened to you, you are not alone. Below is a link to The Harm Reduction Guide on how to safely go off psychiatric poison.
Angels are real. The other side is alive. Heaven is real.
In 2017 one night I was having a night terror. This was almost daily. I woke got a drink and went back to bed.
I’m pretty sure once I fell back asleep the nightmare started again. I live alone so there is no one there to help me wake myself up from nightmares as they paralyses me. Suddenly in my right ear I heard the loud voice of a toddler almost a baby. It said with great confidence “Help!”
I woke up and sat up quickly thinking it was my 3 year old Grandson because he slept over often. Of course it was not him and he was not there. The word help did not sound like a child needing help. If words could let you hear the sound my voice now trying to describe it, it was more like this, “hElP!” with an almost funny tone to it. I sat there for a long time and realize whatever it was, it was there to wake me up. I have psychic gifts but I never hear voices nor do I see spirits.
Later that day and the days since I remembered that night and realized that baby angel was not asking for help, it was saying “I’m here to help.” Time passed. I so wanted that angel to talk to me again but it did not.
Jump to the fall of 2018. I’m in a new place. I was late at night and I had been meditating for over an hour. The house was completely silent. I feel waves and energy in my body when I’m in deep meditation. Suddenly from the right side of the bed, came that baby voice. This time it said “DOT!” My trance was broken and I sat there in awe. It was that same voice that had said help. I waited for another word, but I started to feel the presence of other helping spirits starting to make noises. I decided that was enough and got up to get a drink of water.
My curtains in my bed room were slightly parted in middle. I sometimes find myself sleeping at the end of my bed because my fan is there and I like the white noise and the air on my face. I woke up to move to end of bed when suddenly there was this very bright white light. It was the Moon. It was exactly in the parts of the curtains and I was mesmerized by it’s light. While I admired it, in my mind I thought of the word Dot. That baby angel must have told me to look out for the dot in the sky later. It felt true and glorious. I felt protected because so often I live in fear.
A week later at was at my son’s home with him and my 4yr old Grandson Lincoln. Mommy was at work. I had offered to come over and help clean house because I love taking care of my son and his family.
To go off topic for a moment I have to tell this story. One day, when my Grandson was 3 we were at my house. I asked “one day you will be a Daddy. What do you think you will name your baby?” He was silent for awhile looking out the patio door. He said “Concrete Patio.” What? LOL “What did you say?” “Concrete patio is what I will call the baby.” I’d never laughed so hard in my life. It’s become a long running family joke.
Before I came to clean, (maybe a month or two) my son had called me and wanted to talk about them having another child. They were young with the first one. He was not sure. I tried to be supportive and just listen. I did agree that if Lincoln was way older than a younger sibling it might not be so fun for him. So we left it at that.
When I was at the house cleaning, Lincoln, who was 4 now, and I were talking about baby sisters and brothers. The younger generation tends now to keep things to themselves for awhile. So I said something about concrete patio. Lincoln replied “we can just name the baby in Mommy’s belly concrete patio.” I didn’t hear it. I don’t know why it did not register what he was saying. Maybe the joy I feel with him his Daddy alone, makes my mind think too fast because I’m happy to be there.
Now as I said, my son and my daughter in law are very private. I was cleaning off the desk when I found a letter from an OB/GYN that said; “Congratulations on your pregnancy.” I froze. Opps. Was I not suppose to know about this and my Grandson had told me an hour before but I didn’t register.
“Maxi?” I said…holding up the letter, “was I not suppose to see this?” He came over and said “opps.” 😀 I was overjoyed and he was so happy and it was such an amazing moment to know my love will be doubled with another grandchild. I said to him “Lincoln spilled the beans an hour ago but I didn’t believe it.” From the mouths of babes. Kids always tell the truth.
Few weeks later she had her first ultrasound. When I saw it, it was just a dot on the film.
A DOT!
When I get premonition or intuition about something that has happened, it usually takes a day or maybe a week to understand the true meaning of the impression.
There was other explanation than this baby voice I had heard twice was the soul or angel of my future Grandchild. When it said “Help.” What it was saying is “I’m coming to help.” This soul from the other side was coming into my life at just the right time to help me from losing my mind. It talked to me. Once my daughter in law was pregnant I never heard baby angel’s voice again. Probably because she was busy growing in her Mommy’s belly. When we found out it was going to be a little girl. My nickname for her before I knew her name became “Little Dot.”
On June 25 Sophie was born. Another gift from God. A little soul who I can’t wait to tell her about how she was my angel before she got here. My little dot.
I’m very tied in my mind. I can’t believe I have the energy to sit in this chair and add to this sad old blog.
This story could take up the ram on your hard drive. I’m going to try to be brief and logical about something happening to me that I don’t understand and makes no sense:
I’ve been living in a conspiracy I guess all my life. I did not become aware of that until in 2003 in an ER, I was misdiagnosed Bi Polar (when actually someone had purposely overdosed my thyroid medication) I have PTSD from psychiatry.
I have been tortured, brain washed, abducted, drugged, jailed for nothing. I’ve been a walking test rat for psychiatric drugs. I’ve taken everything made and some of it would be abborhant to you. Some of it is like a chemical lobotomy.. That is no exaggeration. I might have brain damage.
My blog has hints of this but 7 years ago I wasn’t exactly sure what was going on. I realized over the years I am telepathic with two people. They pushed their way into my head. I have a shrink who I trust. I take medications but at least every few days I have horrendous NIGHT TERRORS.
In 03 in Seattle I was given an MRI. While in there, they brought others in and said “look at that. what is that?” I asked what they said to stay still. Afterward I ask what they saw. They said nothing.
I don’t know if they were trying to make me think I had something in my brain like a chip or I don’t have a chip and they wanted to cause me harm by begging to think something i would have ever thought.
My life is in danger. I’m 57. I’m not going to last long in what feels traumatic and almost conspiracy like. Everyone around me always ignore me when I talk about telepathy. I have followed Rupert Sheldrake’s work on telepathy in animals. I have for the last 4 years documented some of my experiences and he has a file on me as he gather information about the subject. Deepak Chopra has helped me learned mediation which I have practiced for over a decade.
BUT I WANT OFF THIS MEDICATION. That keeps me from writing. That has destroyed my bladder. That could give me kidney failure. Imagine being misdiagnosed and you take these new drugs for no reason. Can you imagine what your mind would feel? You can’t get off them cold turkey because you can die. You need help. No shrink will help me off them so as I age I become fatter, more lethargic and live with a bladder condition probably cause by 10 year of anti psychotics Everyone they make, I’ve been coerced on them.
I realize conspiracy theories are a joke but things have happened to me for nearly 17 years and it feels real. Horrific. Illogical and very real.
My mind is becoming violent against itself. I’m not violent. I dont’ even like to kill the ants in my kitchen. My hope and faith are paper thin.
I’m going to die. No one that has any humanity in them would continue to do this to a human.
If I’m Jesus and I need to die to save the world then fine. I just want to be happy. I want what I deserve and I want all the horrible things done to me to help me help others.
I had 23 years of Eddie Vedder. Some of them prophetic. I ended up in Seattle for 11 years when the torture was the worst. Eddie would turn up at places I would be. I felt we had telepathy but I never spoke to each other. We just looked through each other and knew something we could not say. Then I left Seattle. In fall of 2012 I watched a series called Battlestar Galactica. I thought it was funny there was a man on there with a woman in his head, kinda like the dreams I had of Vedder. I never actually felt telepathy with him until the last two years While watching that show I become interested in James Callis. He wasa a funny guy. He was different that being in love with Vedder on a spiritual level. Then at Christmas of 2012 while baking a chicken alone, I felt the presence of James. No voices, more like feelings to do things. It’s too long to type but the way we communicate is quite easy but complicated to explain. I do not hear his voice. (until two mornings ago, I clearly heard in a soft tone, “Hello.” This had never happened.
This “thing” is not what causes me suffering. It’s the other things around me trying to make me not do that thing. Maybe I have no one against me and it’s just one big experiment, but I get conflicting advise from everyone. I don’t ask anyone for advice anymore because everyone is living the lie too. If I don’t get the truth that he is in there and if he isn’t that’s fine. I need a shaman then to tell what bad spirit might be pretending. I think it’s science. I’ve been willing. I’ve participated. But it’s time to take back my power because I’m too old for this shit and no human should live in 400sqft isolation for years.
I’m begging for James to tell me it’s him in head. If i don’t have love or truth I will die like a orchid in the closet. It it’s not him, if Jesus isn’t in this, as I feel I’ve been told in dreams in vision thhat I’m related to Jesus….fine all I care about is James who could save my life by saying……finally
Darling, it is me and I’ve been there with you for a very long time. You are awake and safe and loved and will spread it to the world. I am not crazy? No. Absolutely not.
I gotta stop or I’m going to run off rails. I’m tired of writing and writing and no one cares and I feel like nothing. Just flesh.
I want to be someone who changes the world with love.
Today was a wonderful day compared to the entry a few days ago while on medication. I felt like I could feel nothing.
“He” was not there.
“God” was not there.
“Creativity” was not there.
and I was out of medical marijuana and without that for depression I am lost to the wind.
I did stop the anti psychotics 24 hours ago. My body swelling has gone down and my mind is sharper. I am however still experiencing blurred vision. I managed to write a rage piece in this blog which for me was really good since writing has bee very hard for me for a long time. I have been censoring some feelings. I feel freer to express those now without shame thanks to a friend.
The story was about being in hospital and it purged the anger of why it happened again to me. Â Since I stopped the medication the night before, my mind had ideas, I could think and I found a bit of weed to help it along. It was fueled by sheer outrage that it keeps happening to me.
I will never take dangerous anti psychotics again.
under God’s protection, this I swear for my own health and well being.
but hey God,
dude,
Sir,
Like you gotta help me with this other problem and you know what it is I speak about. This blog is bleeding with it. Â How about feeding my heart now. I’ve had enough of darkness ya know? Stuff, where like, I have to keep reliving the same crap and you promise me love and Prince Charming if I do these things then I find him in mysterious was and we can talk in weird ways and you promise and promise but nothing happens. Where do I go from here?
Where do my “boys” come into this tale? This blog is a juxtaposition of two worlds. The reality of dealing with a mental illness and a label and trying to understand Quantum Physics when you are a C student so you can find your soul mate you’ve been looking for for 52 years because you can blame it on Disney movies.
I don’t want to go to bed. I want him in my head.
Is he busy?
Does he not really love me?
He said it was fine to write it all out without guilt, so where do I go from here. Where ever does he go when he goes away? Or do I go away and forget and he is always here and it is just logistics that cause problems like time zones and sleep etc..etc…
He never says he can hear me in writing though? hmmmm? I wonder why. Do you know? I have run my own rational science experiments on this situation in three years and some results have been astounding. I’m not going to broadcast that on Twitter, but still. I like him, but God, what gives. Is this your doing? Like when my ears change and then I think of him and I smile and then my right ear goes off and it starts talking to me in pulses. Sounds crazy to reader it’s normal to me. That’s how it started. We have progressed to a much deeper less primitive communication that often I misread. There is always the fall back to that when I cry or when he interrupts me reading or doing things he is proud of me doing.
I’d call it my
“soul mate’s secret knock“
🙂
I confess in a message to him basically from my heart which was from You and poured my sheer truth out and still although so kind, he never said a word about the other dimension he dwells in with me. So do I dwell there alone? God, am I crazy or just misguided? I think this must be some kind of silly gag I agreed on before I was born. Ha ha.
Am I doing something wrong?
Have I convinced myself of something that is not there?
I just heard him say
(“write: should I write this journal entry in my blog as part of my story and real life happy struggles?”)
I guess it’s fear that it’s not happening and I’m foolish or perhaps I have the wrong man associated with a wonderful feeling. Maybe it’s two taking care of me in two different ways. My body vibrates three different ways at times when I’m feeling good. (just now a pressure change in my ears which he is thinking of me or getting closer)
I don’t know anything really about Quantum Entanglement, I just throw the term around because I dig the way it sounds. But if atoms can entangle why can’t souls before birth? Just wondering.
Have I wished this? what ever “this” is into existence?
Are we spirals affecting the environment?
One might say
“Yes Darling, every single spiraling word…”
I’m not suppose to tell you this, but the gentleman I refer to here is James Callis.
Science Goes On - A Blind Date With God 
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