Tuesday, February 7, 2012

I haven't been disappeared--yet.

I haven't been disappeared--yet. I spent nearly 21 hours straight in an emergency room/hospital visit. The last three hours I got to lay down in a hospital bed, but for 18 hours, I endured sitting in hard backed chairs, watching crappy TV, while I tried to stay calm, which wasn't easy when I realized that the whole emergency room was one huge psych ops. It took me a while--the setting was elaborate. At any given time, there were around 50 people in the room, some vomiting, some limping, ect. But little tell-tale signs began to give it away. When the young man sitting close to me retched uncontrollably in a bucket, why couldn't I smell it? To my great discomfort, I have an incredibly sensitive nose, and I can smell vomit in a public bathroomhours after it has been flushed down the toilet, but I can't smell it as it is upchucking from three feet away? With my scent of smell--I don't think so. "Waiting for Godot" gave way to "something's rotten in Denmark", and it sure wasn't the guy's stomach contents. Then there were all the young children that were there. Now, children to the ER have their own separate pediatrics waiting clinic, but these were HEALTHY children. It was almost as if there was a family atmosphere, with some of the "visitors" there. Every so often, a staff would come and say "visitors". The first couple of times, people actually got up and followed the staff, but as the night went on, that charade stopped, too. Now really, who would put visitors, and especially children, in the same waiting area, with urgently ill people?

I just couldn't figure out WHY I was being put through this extensive, EXTENDED (18 hours) charade? You see, I had been in psychic communication with the psychics around me, including P.F., who really is the only one I trust, and I thought that I was going to be given sanctuary in a safe place, so that I wouldn't be astrally raped and bodily mutilated anymore, as I have been for years now, but more intensely recently. Ideally, I tried to communicate that I just wanted a safe place "to be" for a few weeks, so that I could try to extricate myself from all the mental, spiritual, and physical suffering, upheaval, and confusion, that all this abuse has caused within me. Well, as I realized the incredible lengths that these drama bitches had gone through to fool me, I got increasingly angry. Same old goddamned psych op shit that I have been dealing with for over a dozen years now--same old Sirian control freak, bullshit games, as if people have to be tricked into making their most important life choices.

Ah, but as usual, there was a good reason for the trickery and deception. I was not being offered a safe haven at all. Rather, I was being set up by Merovingian Faction 2 to becoming a frequency slave, in the same way as so many brainwashed psychics have been in the past. However, alarm bells started going off, especially when P.F. became visibly distressed and other psychics blocked her from my direct view, as she tried to reach somebody on a landline phone located in the ER (!).
My fear heightened dramatically after meeting and identifying, as occult evil, the two doctors (representing, I think, the two separate wings of Faction 2--the blonde and the dark) who examined me. I asked my inner voice if I were safe, and it told me, "no". At that point, I had to make a decision, but the truth is that it had already been made.

You see, I never make decisions without a lot of thought and obsessive-compulsive "intellectual handwringing". I may seem to make impulsive decisions, but actually, I usually stew over big decisions for days, weeks, and months. I mentioned my Meyers Briggs profile recently--I actually took the test twice, and the second time that I took it, as a mature person in my 30's, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that the intervening decade, had contributed to a balancing out between introversion/extroversion and thinking/feeling. However, the gap didn't close nearly as much between intuition and realistic sensing, and I still was an off-the charts "P"!

I know these things about myself--and I know how to get around the weaknesses associated with them. So, when facing a momentous decision, I need quiet, spiritual time to be by myself, to pray to God, reach my inner self, and feel good about my decision. Well, right now, in the unceasingly stressful situation that I am in, such a state cannot be attained, so I get angry when people try to force my life choices to conform to their own projections. I especially get angry, when it is clear that they do not honor or respect choices that I am sure about. I AM SURE THAT I AM A MAN, GODDAMNED IT!! The stupid bastards can pump me full of drugs and hormones, and anally rape me all they want--all they will get is a surface change that only a delusional dumbass, brainwashed by the same illusory trickery that they use on others, would be fooled into believing their own wishful thinking makes for reality and truth.

You see, I already worked through tough issues, and made my own personal peace with my ambiguous and conflicting gender identity--once. I WAS happy as long as I was allowed to live out my lesbian sexuality, to work out and develop a muscular body, and had enough testosterone in my body to feel healthy, energetic and alive. IT WAS NOT ME WHO DESTROYED THE HOMEOSTATIC STATUS QUO that served my mental health and positive self-esteem--IT WAS THE SAME KABAL CONTROL FREAKS that now have left me with no choice but to squarely face an even more insurmountable gender identity conflict, resolve it, AND be happy about it. For you see, THE RESOLUTION ALREADY HAS BEEN MADE--that is why I keep saying that I AM A MAN. Intellectually, I know myself, my needs, and my body, and thus I know what has to happen for me to be happy. It is just that this intellectual realization, however valid, has not yet reached harmonious and unanimous consent with my emotional self.

Given my life circumstance, this is not surprising. This is a change that has been forced on me, without my willful consent. The same thing happened to me when I was 13 or 14, and started developing breasts and bleeding every month. My juvenile self was PROFOUNDLY disturbed and upset about it--WTF??? Guess what? It took me ten years to become emotionally comfortable, with those indisputable facts, so that I could integrate them into a positive and healthy personality and self-image.

I was going to gay bars for 5 or 6 years, before I became comfortable with emotionally accepting the fact that I was gay. In my early 20's, in my brutally "honest" conversations with myself, I would repeat over and over, "I am not gay. I am just a sinner". Well, of course, I was trapped in neurotic denial, and that caused another years-long delay of positive, self-identity formation as well. In a functional and healthy world, individuals are helped and respected in acknowledging their own self-identity and life choices. I however, am one of the unfortunate few who mostly has had to go it all alone, and at this point in my life, I am okay with that. What is not okay, is the never ending abuse, stress, fear, AND RAPE, which is now a "normal" experience in my existence. That is why I was desperate enough to take a leap of faith on Monday, imagining that I was going to be spirited away into some military, or off world (UFO or planetoid) base, while I officially became "deceased".

I did not take that decision lightly, so as I lay in that hospital bed, realizing I was in deep doo-doo, after meeting the two doctors, both of whom set off my intuition's alarm bells, I made a conscious decision to follow through on my decision. I consider myself lucky that I am not in some secret hospital somewhere, doped to the gills, but if I were, it would have been my decision, and even though, trickery was involved, I made it freely. I am certain that God is in charge of my life, I was confident that my decision to go to the hospital (that was the set up--to go and complain of chest pain), had been an honest, thorough, and unforced one, and so, I decided to follow it through all the way.

But, oh boy, was I so excited and relieved to walk out of that hospital room, and out of that place, knowing I had dodged, yet again, A CANNON BALL! I was as giddy as a kid being let out for summer vacation, feeling a whole, new lease on life open up. Of course, that feeling lasted for all of 15 minutes, until I bought and ate a breakfast burrito that had been contaminated. The renewed virus activation, combined with the anticipatory duress and lack of sleep from the day before, led me to sleep. I woke up with brain fog, and even though, there is a lot going through my head right now, I need for things to settle down inside my head. I am worried that the rapes will start again, but right now, there is nothing I can do to control what those occult KaBalists do to me. All I can do is control my own self and my own voice as much as possible, and that is what I choose to do.

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