Premature optimism

Premature optimism. Very very sick again--not with the headache pain, but with the brain shutting down. in desperate need for more testosterone. have taken seven tabs and it is barely twopm. I am being blasted with estrogen. forgot. if PIBs think i can handle x amount of virus, they up it to 2X. but body needs much more testorone. also am craving meat. i have been eating meat all day, and still craving it. wild cravings for meat. i think that the viral mechanism is eating up all my amino acids, and I am starving for protein. I am low on b12, but it is more than that. I am thinking that not only do i have weak phospho and sulfolipids, I don't have enough, so that I can't handle 2X of viral download. Phospholipids are formed by fatty acid metabolism and requires amino acids. autistics have problems with this, and i bet i am craving protein because the body needs more phospholipids. there are enzymes you can take, but no use going to doctor. need to go to bed. brain is shutting down andw wants to slepp.

Good news and bad news.

Good news and bad news. The good news is that I think I was right about the phosphoipids and sulfolipids. My right eye is looking much better. It still is not normal, or its equal in brightness to my surgically repaired left eye, but it looks so much lighter and better--gone is the dense, dead eye look. I still am suffering from intercellular buildup, especially at night when the viral download in my brain is heaviest. I know, because if I rub my left eye, I can tell how impacted the optic nerve is by the excess fluid. However, this optic nerve swelling impacting my vision now only happens when the viral download is the most heavy, not 24/7 swelling as has been the case for years now. After years of worrying about this right eye, this is a relief!

Having said that, I am dismayed and handicapped by ongoing psychotropic drugging. It may just be depakote (I know that my dreams are disturbed and far away, which is what happens on depakote). This drugging is not only impacting my energy level, making life sluggish and difficult, and leading to the familiar compulsive-obsessive mental loops of autism, but also it prevents me from my normal feeling response to life. I can always tell by my response to music and other people--deadened in the first case, and anti-social in the second case. My eyes are starting to shut involuntarily, so the autism response must be increasing. Time to get away from the computer--the EMF from the computer worsens this autism...

I was so zoned out yesterday

I was so zoned out yesterday that I didn't record my dream that concurred with the luciferian Sirian abduction. I dreamed that they tested me for HIV--which I guess is their way of testing the efficacy of the virus they put in the right hemisphere of my brain. However, that is the second time that I have dreamed of HIV in conjunction with these Sirians (the first time was after they drew my blood (and infected me with more of the virus) in the doctor's office. So I hope that the dream is metaphorical instead of literal, because it would be a real drag if I the patriarchs denied me a romance with an HIV+ woman, only to receive it from the hands of the Sirians. They treat me as a lab rat, so I can only guess what the bastards have done to me (since no medical doctor is free to tell me the truth). Anyway, while at the clinic, I was looking for a doctor that I had seen before (not any doctor that I know). I knew that she had given me a tip about a drug that I needed to take, "Mavro", and I was trying to get further information on it.

When I woke up, the only thing I could turn up with varian spellings of Mavro is an "unremarkable wine" made from a black grape in Cyprus. Its main claim to fame is that the vine's genome is ancient, having survived an intermittent, decades-long fungal attack that laid waste to the rest of Europe's vines. Searching around a little bit, I concluded that this might refer to a very pure form of resveratol, which may heal or repair the issues I have with phospholipids and sulfolipids. These lipids are essential to allow for membrane permeability, and it could be the virus is overwhelming my lipids function, most especially in my brain cells, and thus causing intercellular buildup of fluid, which then creates a whole host of problems, including swelling and inflammation. Just wondering. I was going to try to buy some, to see how it worked, but my abductors may have been beaten me to the punch. I can feel the virus today, and it is addling my brain, but it is not driving me out of my mind with headache pain and rage, or causing the autistic sensory perception problems to the degree that I find it difficult to relate to reality. I am not feeling great or even normal, but I am feeling functional, and have energy (no estrogen today), for the brain and body to click...

The reason I knew that my emotional connection to my mother allowed for the negative Sirians to abduct me was that I was accompanied to the clinic by her and Warren. Anytime, my mom and Warren appear together in my dreams, there is dark occult abduction occurring. In the dream, my ringer finger was nearly halved, which depressed me. Not only is a long ring finger a sign of high testosterone, it also is the ring that denotes creativity and power. I take that symbol to mean that the dark occultic forces want me to be female (certainly my mother does). If so, they reset the same old patriarchal lie of duality, this time, with a twist--it will be a matriarchal lie of duality--in which the female is normative and dominant, and the male is other and submissive. These evil operators wanted to destroy my hermaphroditic wholeness, and make a female from an original hermaphrodite with dominant male energy, just like they perpetuated the scriptural lie of the woman Eve, coming from the originally, pre-sleep-and-removal-of-ribs, hermaphroditic Adam. This is just wrong on every level. Life is created from the feminine principle, and man comes from woman, not the other way around. However this lie, much the same as all lies, creates insecurity and jealousy on the part of both men and women, so that tension and struggle between the genders diminish and deter us from God's original purpose, which is that all individuals be free, whole, and largely androgynous (which is more like the original scripture, "Let us make "man"--or exegetically more accurate in grammar--"human" in Our image--male AND female.

So the miracle of my hermaphroditic status has been destroyed by a group of petty, patriarchal men and women, who felt that they "owned" and "controlled" me, so that the sacred blessing of my existence was destroyed, and now I cannot back to what I was. For the only way that I could maintain a hermaphroditic status, existentially, was to keep my metabolism juvenile. My mind, spirit and personality were not juvenile, and all I ever asked from any of these patriarchs in the dozen-plus years of my slow disintegration was that they RELATE to me, and that they employ me, so that they could see what a mature, solid person I was. But controllers stuck in a dualistic mindset is afraid to RELATE--especially to someone free, for they themselves are mired in the original sin, which is the big fat lies of our origins.

So now, I have to make a choice to be either male OR female. It is a process coming to terms with the fact of such a drastic change, but really there is only one choice. My energy and hormonal functions are masculine, and while it was truly beautiful to see them operating in my female body, that is no longer possible. Because I am not a dualist, I don't have a huge preference for one gender or another. I did as a teenager and young woman, when I desperately wished to be male. However, I accepted "biology as destiny" (wrong again, Patriarch Freud--it is energy or spirit that is destiny...), and came to love my feminine self. As a matter of fact, because of all that I have suffered as a woman (there is NO DOUBT WHATSOEVER in my mind that the abuse that I have suffered as a gay woman, would never have happened if I had been a gay man) AND as a lesbian, makes me want to claim my lesbian woman identity. But the purpose and sign of my life is not to reproach my past tormentors--it is to be fruitful and productive in God's Will. I cannot be fruitful and productive with a dominant female hormonal and energy system. My brain and body is just not wired that way--every single cell is XY, and demands testosterone, lots of it, now that my extended juvenile metabolism has ended my once-happy state as "Puer Aeternus". I am not afraid or ashamed to be the male that I spent my youth so desperately desiring.
For I don't believe the dualistic lies about males and females and the roles they occupy. Even though there is, generally speaking, a difference in emphasis, it is more a matter of Both/And, and not Either/Or. The male function is every bit as essential in the maintenance, protection and furtherance of life, as the female is in being the original matrix and holder of life. A lot of the virtues and purpose of manhood have been under assault, ever since the negative cabal set out in the 20th century, to undermine and ridicule personal and existentially immediate authority, while conflating the abstract authority of functional roles and governments.
So I guess that I will be focusing on life from the "other side" now. However, I still am grief-stricken over my loss, so I imagine this will all take a while. As a matter of fact, that is where this all is right now--my imagination...

Regression.

Regression. I do believe that I was abducted last night by the negative Sirians, and I think I know why. Succinctly put, it is because of my emotional connection to my mother. I woke up again with a lump on my head, and some kind of implant near my heart that is physically pressing. From what I can tell, the negative Sirians hope to constrict the heart, probably because it is the center of deep feeling, and while they do not mind a superficial emotional life in their cybernetic human slaves, all deep feeling must be squelched. That has not happened to me, yet, or I would never have been hooked by my emotional connection to my mother.

You see, these luciferian Sirians (devotees of the Machine-RA), are master psychologists. The MACHINE loves to accumulate data about human feelings, responses and behaviors, so that IT can predict a human response in any given situation. Another word for this is control, and yes, even human beings practice it to some extent. This is why I am so frustrated with people and players who play mind games and act out psych ops scenarios with me, rather than relating to me from the engagement of direct reality. This is a perpetuation of the tactics and strengths of the MACHINE, and not the free movement, response, and play of a soul honestly open to, and trusting in, the providence of Almighty God or respecting the free will of individuals.

I was watching "Battlestar Galactica" last night, and was stunned by the complexity and perspicacity of the Machine's psychological insights. This is not a mystical or awesome gift; it is the result of massive amounts of data downloaded into the Machine's memory banks, and collectively accessed by individual drones, which is why Facebook and other social networking sites are so harmful. Those are motherlodes of data information from which MACHINE-RA can pull, analyze and use to predict, and thus, CONTROL us humans. If I were a computer genius, I would come up with a program that would completely stymie MACHINE-RA's calculations--you know, create dozens of profiles with data like "I am a health food nut and my favorite food is Chicken McNuggets" or "I have accepted the Lord Jesus Christ as my personal savior, and am looking to meet like-minded Christians of any gender, open to mutually consensual, no-strings-attached, S&M play. I will respect your boundaries." But while, intellectually, I can come up with creative ways to thwart RA's MO, I still get hooked by the same mechanism of emotional manipulation.

RA has figured out that my emotional weakness is my relationship with my mother, and IT is able to play that against me, because, tragically, my mother has been fully co-opted by evil. I could go into a detailed account, but I have decided that dwelling on these matters only makes me prey to RA's manipulations, so I will be brief. My mother married a Freemason Satanist, whose family has been involved in satanic activity for generations, I do believe. None of us children really liked him, especially, after he carried on a relationship with my mother, while he was married to another woman for five years. Remembering dreams that I had at the time, I think that the erosion of my mother's good nature began with that relationship, and it escalated dramatically, once I came under the radar of occult evil. For of course, they knew of Warren's ties to satanism, and they actively set out to steal my mother's soul, as a mechanism to wield power over me. I don't know how long it took them, but I know that my mother has been cooperating with them for years, and that three or four years ago, I recognized clear evil in her eyes towards me--all under the guise of solicitude.

That is the most insidious abuse done by evil. It is intertwined with acts of supposed love and kindness, and since she was my mother, the masquerade worked, although I eventually realized that she was engaged in occult rituals to sacrifice me to Satan, going so far as to call me on the morning after my castration, with triumph and joy in her voice. I was so choked up on tears that I couldn't even talk, but my mother was completely oblivious to my pain and suffering, as she has been for years. However, she was never an affectionate or demonstrative mother, and I kept remembering small acts of maternal concern and kindness done for me over the years, and so I have agonized over how to relate and respond to her.

About two weeks ago, I decided that it was best to "close off" all deep feeling regarding her despite the fact that I still love her (despite all the evil she has perpetuated upon me, I cannot hate her). A couple of nights later, I dreamed that I kissed her on the cheek good-bye, and shook hands of farewell with her husband (!). I think I may have been in some astral communion, for I remembered her smell. I want to say that it was the smell of death (and the extent of the evil to which she has succumbed, certainly entails death), but it could also have been the smell of evil and corruption. Yes, people deeply possessed by an evil spirit have the most malodorous odor imaginable. I have smelled it several times in my life.

However, I wasn't ready to proclaim and "own" this decision, and yesterday, I indulged in a melancholy of memory and regret for my lost mother. I "prayed" (uh oh, I have been working on more subtly intended prayers, rather than transcendentally directed ones, onto which Lucifer or Satan can grab and feed, but yesterday I lapsed), that somehow, I could do something to help save my mother from the evil into which she has fallen. My spiritual anguish and most heartfelt of intentions were answered by yet another successful abduction of myself, by the powers of evil--the luciferian Sirians. For my mother is so far gone in the service of evil, that any attempt on my part to emotionally connect with her, even through prayer or spirit, can be used as a weapon to snare me, by the satanic lord that she now worships. As I have mentioned before, the "old school" satanists have joined in alliance with the luciferian devotees of RA, so that my mother is actually doing double duty--serving both Satan and Lucifer.

So, I have to act to save myself, which means that I need to vigorously accept and affirm my original decision--to close myself off from any deep feeling regarding my mother. Maybe someday this will change, but most certainly not now, when I cannot control these violating abductions, and the entire battle of the cosmos is at such fever pitch. For every time that I am abducted by these negative Sirians, they take another chunk out of my self-confidence and efficacy--not to mention, the physical drain they take on me. So there will be no more melancholia, no more prayers, no more mental lyrics from John Lennon's "Pain" album about his mother, going through my head. There will be no "sitting shiva" or going off to the woods to pray in some private ritual. For that matter, I will avoid any interior conversations about it, because it was my "inner voice" grim prognosis of lack of hope for my mother's conversion, that led to the melancholia in the first place.

When I lost the appearance of female breasts, because my pec muscles were cut out, leaving me with the small deflated man boobs of the eunuch that the satanists have created out of God's singular hermaphroditic state that was my life for 48 years, I turned around all the family pictures on the mantle in my living room. It was not a rejection of my family, just a grief-stricken response to the fact that I had been robbed of my "adopted" self-identity as a woman. The person that was "me" in those pictures taken with family no longer existed, and certainly I, with the long torso, broad chest and shoulders, and happy carefree grin, seen in those pictures no longer exist either.

My mother's actions have effectively cut me from the family (unless I keep wishing to be grievously abused, which I do not), and my brothers do not have the emotional or intellectual ability to understand what I am experiencing. Given their natures and obligations, it is best that they never delve into the occult reality which has been forced upon me. So I am orphaned, not only from my previous self-identity, but from any familial ties or expectations. Yes, the religious and psychic communities have laid claimed to me, but after years of abuse, I no longer have any desire or interest in the former, and am deeply suspicious of the latter.

However, I don't even spend much time thinking about where my future lies. I am trying to decide if I will experience the future as a man or as a woman. I can no longer go back to the successful self-identity as an ontological hermaphrodite, and existential intersexed woman, that I worked so hard to forge and develop, just to have it all brutally derided and stripped from me in my nighttime sleep. I am truly miserable in this woman's body. I hate it. However, life as a man would be a radical change that I cannot imagine (though could it feel worse than I feel right now?). I kept warning everybody who would listen, "you are going to kill the goose that lays the golden egg", and in their avarice to own me to their satisfaction, that is what they have done. Now, the plucked bird has to figure out which feathers to adopt. No matter what, I cannot imagine the life of energy and joy that I once knew. Certainly, the psychics who go around talking about higher dimensions, blah, blah, blah, do not seem to me to have the life and vitality of an even average spirit-filled Christian. Maybe life and vitality are permanent losses from my life as well. Certainly, it will never happen as long as I am in a fat, sluggish, autistic female body. In a male body? I don't know. I don't know the options and possibilities, because no one will relate honestly to me. I don't get an explanation of red pill or blue pill. Hell, I don't even get the come on from the hot babe with a white rabbit on her shoulder, or intriguing messages in my ear at a techno-rock bar.

I am tired of having to figure everything out myself. It is laborious, time-consuming, and inefficient, but it still beats being lied to, which for years, has been the only other option. Only the characters have changed--the lies, manipulation, and mind-control games and techniques remain the same.

As I write this, I am very depressed and low energy. I am sure part of it is all the fucking estrogen. I have to take testosterone just to keep from falling asleep and to digest my food. However, I am sure I am on some psychotropic. It may be fucking lithium again. I also have the sore throat I get when my parathyroid is stressed--usually results from high thyroid meds. However, high thyroid meds fill me with energy, and I am so low energy that I can barely get up and move.
Still the mind can think, and the will can resolve, and so I have.

Einstein said (something like), "the definition of stupid

Einstein said (something like), "the definition of stupid is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting a different result". In my recent post, I lambasted Dr. Psych-bossPOS for his lack of professional judgment--which I laid at the door of a deficient ego. I forgot to mention how stupid he really is--and Einstein does all my argument for me!

As the compassionate cancer woman forewarned me about 5 or 6 years ago, there are bad days and there are good days. However, I have suffered so long from a preponderance of bad days, that I no longer desire to live in this hellish existence with these UNABASHEDLY STUPID mind controllers--rather they are Jesuits, human psychics, or evil aliens, continuing the same abuses over and over again.

I am speaking of the same old psychotropic drugs, and the same old estrogen blasts--both of which make me so sick that I can no longer functional. I am not able to do ANY research on the web--to sick to read or concentrate. I am so severely autistic that I have to drive with my eyes intermittently shutting, because moving objects or anything in the mirror cause me to lose contact with reality--not a good thing when one is driving. Fortunately, I have been doing this for so long, that is is now familiar to me, and I stay off of the freeways, because I know that my autistic driving is dangerous, and if I have an accident I can hope its a fender bender, and if I miss the light signal change because my eyes need to shut to block out any stimuli, I know the worst that will happen is an annoyed honk from behind me.

Then there is the ongoing estrogen blasts--which leave me so sick that I could barely stand. They also have give me the most incredible migraine headaches, and I know that they are the cause, because of the sticky thighs that accompany it, especially when I wake up (most estrogen download occur at night).

My house is a mess, as even pickup of routine items is a challenge in my current condition. I forced myself to wash dishes for the first time in 4 days yesterday (I have learned to try to rinse dishes immediately after use, so that they don't pile up), and it took me over an hour and a half to wash a small half sink full of dishes, between all the rest breaks I needed, when I could no longer hold myself up against the kitchen sink. I still haven't finished--just a couple of wipedowns, and a crock pot to wash--but already I am so sick that I can't even imagine getting to it, today, especially since the high priority items are finding my birth certificate, going to the pharmacy, and the dentist. I don't even know how I am going to do that, because already I am barely functional. On top of that, I can hardly walk. The recent mutilations to my knee has left them in constant pain and weakness, so that I hobble, never sure if I am going to be able to take the next step. However, I desperately need my medication refilled. I have only four Vicodin, and I took my last Fiornal yesterday, and with these sick headaches, I've got to have it. I went yesterday to get it, but the same temp ID that I have been using is "no longer acceptable". Bullshit. It is more mind control games by whichever faction (probably the Jesuits), all trying to get me to lose my temper, so that they can say I am out of control and put me away. YOU STUPID GODDAMNED FUCKS--don't you know I can spot your mind games and psych ops tactics a mile away by now. Well, I didn't get anry. I was too sick to be angry. Now I have to dig in and find my b.c.--hope I can--and go sit for another hour in the waiting room. It doesn't matter to me where I suffer--whether at home or in a pharmacy. I am so miserably ill that I just try to tune out reality wherever I am.

Then there is the constant estrogen and cutting on my body, leaving it weaker, shorter (went shopping yesterday at a familiar, if infrequently visitied store, and found that "Mengele's" boobs now bump into the shopping cart handle!), and drained of nearly all energy. All of this, I suppose, is to get my brain into a frequency which then moves to a "higher" dimension. However, I started thinking about my lost verbal ability and how others can tap it, while I can't. I am thinking that my autism had me born into this higher dimension, and that my challenge was to learn to live in the human 3D dimension. My "neurosis" was that, pre-lithium, my brain could operate on two separate levels, so that 6 years ago, I was probably more naturally primed and ready to move to a higher dimension than I am now. My brain also used to work at MUCH faster speeds. Yes, I "broadcast" my thoughts and chatter all over the place, but I didn't used to. When my brain was healthy, the inner chatter moved at such a speed (I think in the same "higher" dimension that these human psychics are all so smugly proud at possessing) that it the inner dialogue was barely perceptible to even me. In short, these goddamned psych doctors and mind control fascists destroyed an ability that was innately native to me, so that they could force me to obtain the gift, "THEIR WAY".

Incredibly stupid, and also tragic, because "THEIR WAY" has diminished my body, my brain, my productivity and my ability to relate and love, from the previous high levels that I was at before. I realize that, after all these years of abuse and mind control bullshit, if it stopped today, it is going to take a long time before I can trust reality and people again. What my prior high level of agapic love invited, was a facile invitation to abuse and a kind of proprietary "ownership" from people and factions that actually refused to regard or relate to me as a real person, but is some kind of "reality TV fantasy projection". Our society is so hooked into this, and people feel so betrayed when their reality TV fantasy doesn't follow their expected script (and all of these mind control players have been following my move via Webcam for over a dozen years--that in itself, is the most egregious of abuse--and an "observer" never understands reality (in my case, the person), as an active participant. An observer also changes what is observed. They certainly have with me. I am fucking sick and tired of being your goddamned "fantasy saint" lab rat. Fuck you. You changed me allright. Your vision of me disgusts me beyond belief). What I have suffered at the hands of these INCREDIBLY STUPID mind control players--and I include all factions--is beyond belief. However, the abuse hasn't stopped,

Well, "THEIR WAY" may achieve the desired objective--movement into a higher dimesnion, but the goal--being involved with any community or faction that has so seriously abused and betrayed me--will never happen. You think that I will have some conversion experience that will change me, but you are wrong. I want nothing to do with people who abuse others to fit their stereotypes and expectations. I only want to relate to people who understand that every human being is free to choose their own self-identity. Period. I only want people who are psychologically mature enough to openly (and yes, vulnerably) relate to another, not play mind control games to see if they are "worthy enough" or manipulate them into a warped conformty to their "expectations". If you don't like who I am, if you even suspect I am racist, or need to "change me" to meet your expectations of me, guess what? You are not in any kind of RELATE-ionship with me. You are not my family, or friend, my boss, or my lover. Yes, some of you are my children, but even my children are not allowed to relate to me, as a free human being. They are just used as bait to hook me into your mind control communities. Well, unlike my children, I know what it is to be a free human being, and being conditioned into the mentally and spiritually indentured control subject that you call "community acceptance", is a step down for me, not a step up, from racist rapist slavery on Mars. All of the factions involved in the active abuse, violation, and betrayal of me are just psychological, emotional, (and in the case of psychics), mental parasites looking to feed off my energy, my spirit, my thoughts. You have drained me so completely of all life force, without providing ANY kind of support or recompense, so that I am so utterly drained, I can barely drag my own ass through even the simplest of daily tasks. SO GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY MIND, and JUST LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE.

I don't know if or when I will heal from this mess that is my tortured, disabled brain and body, but I can't spend time writing. Got to get up and take care of the high priority tasks, with the sick and drained energy that I have.

Well, I can tell from rereading this morning's post

Well, I can tell from rereading this morning's post that the drugs I am on are impacting my ability to think and write clearly. I try hard, I really do, but the mental acuity and presence just is not there. The drugs are also affecting my emotions, and had me crying my guts out--except that my guts have been so rigidly constrained by implants, that it literally sent pain sensations through my body to cry. I have learned that this severe depression and crying jags can be cured by taking testosterone, but I was afraid that were tampered with something that would leave me completely incapacitated, and I had to take a shower, since I am going to physical therapy first thing in the morning. The T tabs and other anti-estrogen herbals (milk thistle and nettle) helped, until I got a good look at what the most recent mutilations to my body are. I had noticed that the shorts I wore last week were a good 1-2 inches longer on my leg--in other words, I had lost 1-2 inches in my thighs. So I looked at them, and was shocked at the excessive fat hanging from there. I lifted up the back of my thigh, and saw a huge scooped depression where muscle had once been. I felt for my hammies--nothing there! The damned abductors/torturers had shaved off over an inch from my thigh, cutting out all the definition and strength of muscle and leaving nothing but even more fat (because of course, the flesh, losing its vertical space, broadens out in even fatter spread with the mutilated stump that is left. I can honestly say that I have never seen such fat thighs in my life as I carry now. All of this is so very depressing, it is beyond further description. There is nothing I can do about any of this. All I can do is try to plug on. My only hope is in God. Either He will heal me or take me home, but I know that I will never cooperate with Salusa, nor have I any interest in being part of any psychic community. Not my kind of people. In the meantime, I deal with the constant dry migraine that makes reality and stimuli painful, the loss of any feeling function for anything, and the physical pain that comes from having extreme pressure on my sacrum (can't walk but only hobble), and my knees. Funny thing about my knees. I used to tell myself that the only part of my body that I could touch and recognize as belonging to me were my knees. Fuckers even took that from me--scooping out a huge cavity in both knees. PT will be interesting tomorrow. I fully expect it to be just another psych ops run by psychics without manhood to relate to me honestly. Uunfortunately for them, my patience for psych ops is completely exhausted, and I can spot them a mile away...

Further revelations of abuse by a NWO slave

Further revelations of abuse by a NWO slave--I always try to keep myself going by reflecting on how bad other people have it. Thus, the recent movie about Henri Young, the Alcatraz inmate, who was beaten, driven insane by 3 years of solitary confinement in a "hole" without light, mattress, or toilet, and tortured to death by sadistic guards, recently had me thinking, "well, it could be worse." I have not yet been driven insane, though certainly my emotional and mental well-being is not as omnipresent as it once was. Then this morning, I read of Jaycee Dugard's interview of her 18 years of captivity by a sick rapist, and realized that while she had an outstanding emotional capacity to cope and survive, the woman had the smallest sliver of life present to her, with no mental or broad psychological life. Like Casey Anthony, she seemed to use the love and care of her young daughters, as an anchor and impetus for meaning and purpose. Maybe that is a feminine strength--certainly it seems to have works for billions of women, as they have suffered centuries of patriarchal confinement and abuse. I know it would never work for me--I could not bear not having an actively inquisitive and acquiring mental life, nor could I bear being cooped up in a tiny little world. To some extent, the latter is true, and the thought of it certainly depresses me, but at least I can use the Internet to help create an active mental and imaginative life in order to ease my suffering to some extent (in my teens, I used books, but with all the drugs and heavy metal poisoning, I no longer can read).

However, I AM a slave to the psychic communities and secret societies, all devoted to the occult practice and extraterrestial contact--have no doubts about it. I fear that the model to whom I am being groomed to most nearly conform in character is that of "La Femme Nikita". Nikita's fictional story has several variations--the most recent one on Fox isn't worth watching. The one I like the most was a TV show from a few years ago, of which I was able to watch a few episodes on the Internet. The story of Nikita is that of a young killer (under extenuating, and very possibly, completely exonerating, circumstances, but what does an 18-year old, runaway street kid know?), who is offered pardon and protection from prosecution, so long as she consents to joining a black ops, "rogue" intelligence agency. Now this particular agency is not as evil as some of the really hateful cabal cliques, but still she has to undertake unsavory actions, such as killing others, which bothers her conscience, and which she doesn't want to do, but she is constrained from free choice by her virtual slavery in this cabal. I have not watched enough of the show to see if she ever seriously entertains the possibility of escape, but where could she go? The agency she works for can track her anywhere, and any authority to which she turns, will either throw her in jail to prosecute for murder, or contact the intelligence agency. Poor Nikita is trapped. A virtual slave to the black ops agency, which protects and provides for her, just so long as she does their dirty work bidding. Such is my current circumstance, though I rail against it in these blogs. However, I am no fool. I know that the circulation of this blog is restricted to the very same psychic communities and secret societies that vie for ownership rights of my gifts, allegiance, and even my soul. I DON'T TRUST ANY OF THEM! They have ALL been proactively involved in mind control games, non-consensual placement of psychotronic implants, forced drugs, and egregious abuse of not only my civil rights as an American citizen, but also my free will, which was bestowed upon me as my spiritual birthright, as a human being, from Almighty God.

Well, I am not 18 years old, and I am not yet compromised by my consent to cooperation with any of these occult-preoccupied agencies or factions, even if unconsciously, I have helped some of them. For there IS a moral distinction to be made among these various agencies and factions, as they are taking different sides in the cosmic struggle of good vs. evil that is occurring all around us, of which 99%+ of the world is completely unaware. Up until about a year ago, if I had been approached as, and treated like, a free human being, I very likely would have given conscious, if reluctant, and possibly conditional assent to join. That ship has sailed. It pulled out of the port the night I was castrated, and the nearly year long, series of mutilating horrors that has been forced upon my nearly destroyed body, has left me far adrift on the ocean, a freelancing pirate, who will never trust any port operated by any occult community or faction. The life of a pirate is hard and short, but it still beats what I have experienced at the hands of even the best of these psychic factions. I can not join a community which stands by, playing mind control and political correctness games, while that person is in imminent danger. As any reader can probably tell by my "big (writing) mouth", it is incumbent on me as a MAN to work to alert, fight for, and save any innocent life possible. I could never stand by in silence while I knew that someone was being abused--especially if it happened over the course of months. Nor could I ever give brotherhood or full trust to anyone who would proactively participate in the bodily destruction of my hermaphroditic form, as God created me, all because they don't like my self-identity and choices (especially lesbian). My lesbian identity and choices are mine, and are those of a mature, deeply spiritual person who came to them the hard way, through years of psychological and spiritual pain and discernment, and anybody who would disregard that, so that I meet their standards of who I should be (their little patriarchal "girl" onto whom they can project their immature patriarchal fantasies), has failed to meet my standards of what a MAN is, and the code of mature human behavior. Sure, most people in the world fail to meet my standards, but I only interact, casually and civilly, with most people in the world. I did spend a portion of my life investigating entering a religious community, and horrified and abused by their disrespect of me, I lost ALL interest. I have never asked to enter any psychic or occult community or faction; instead the unrelenting and destructive hazing I have gone through at their hands has all been initiated by them, and it still is ongoing.

Last night, they cut on both my knees and my thigh. This morning, I am hobbling, and in severe nerve pain on my left thigh. What they did was remove muscle from around my knees, thus leaving it weaker and debilitated (it was the second time they cut my knees). Why did they do this? My guess is that yesterday evening, when the viral download was so heavy that it put me in a psychotic, "out-of-mind-with-pain" state, I twice nearly fell to the ground when my leg gave way beneath me. Slavemasters as they are, they probably assumed it was the knees. Wrong, it is the ankles that give way without warning, when the viral download hits--which they could have found out if (oh my God--imagine the preposterous thought of treating someone in a female body as deserving of the rights they would accord a man!), they had treated me as human being, instead of a slave. Now, my knees are even weaker than before, so much that I cannot walk without hobbling, or stand in a regular stance.

So, who is doing all this? The least negative of Faction 2. I was fairly sure that my daughter's exit from the duplex apt. was replaced by another F2 contingent, though I wasn't sure how negative or positive they were...I am now sure that the men (they tag team, though there seems to be one ongoing presence) living next to me are the occult/psychic faction most readily successful in the fight against evil. They also are the ones, which were using me as a supremely efficacious "point man", all the while they actively conspired and consented, with the Salusians, to the destruction of my physical body--these are the same psychics who have a problem with my lesbianism, and seem to be enraptured by the "girl-child" saint, Therese of Liseux's, pollyanna-ish juvenilia, which MACHINE-RA was downloading into my sleeptalking at night.

Some time ago, back in May, I realized that not only, had I had been stupidly cooperating with the very men, I WAS BEING USED. For these were the same patriarchal men who had worked to destroy my physical body, and my natural high-energy state, in order that I be forced to fit their conception of what a "woman" (which I am not, and no longer will claim as a ready self-identity, though for years, after major psychological and spiritual work and compromise, I did) should be. I further realized that my cooperation was part of an immature need for respect from my own father, and having done so, decided to quit. I don't think that I have been involved in any major engagements since that decision, but I know that it is not a hardfast one. Because I am a MAN (mensch), I will always be prone to active and immediate response, should I see the need for assistance by those who share my values in fighting evil, and yes indeed, there is a consummate evil threatening the cosmos.

However, I am no longer certain that this faction is fighting the consummate evil.
I am fairly sure that Salusa and his band of demons are still abducting me--so that yesterday, I had the cranial and eye shape alterations. As a side note, it is interesting to note, that after raging against the changes, and the resulting severe autism that they caused, the lump in the forehead, and most--but not all--of the eyelid changes disappeared. The changes were replaced were black lines running from my forehead to the inner eye, giving me a serious "black eye" look. It is as if the implants or "metal worms" put in my forehead were destroyed--whether by my own rage or the least negative clique of F2, I am not sure. For they ARE protecting me--not only from F1 or the reptilians (their hated enemy), but also from other, more negative factions. A few nights ago, when I slept outside because the girl from the Lemuurian/Asian faction had dropped an energy weapon into my basement, they removed it. I think that they also tried to clear some of the excessive heavy metal poison from my brain, in an abduction, while I slept. I AM grateful for the protection, but I know that this factions past actions indicate that they do not share the entirety of my value system, which always respects the free will of an individual, REGARDLESS OF ANY CATEGORIZATION OF "OTHERNESS"--GENDER, RACE, RELIGION, NATIONALITY, SEXUAL ORIENTATION, ETC, and I can never be part of any community which could have abused me, OR ANYONE, as badly as they have.

Then there is the question I am asking myself--where do they stand in regard to Salusa? Is it Salusa abducting me, or is this next door faction 2 element abducting me and turning me over to Salusa? There is a small, but admitted chance that I could be wrong, but I think Salusa is a lying devil. Literally. At best, he is a thoroughly unscrupulous, higher dimensional being of immense power which he uses to serve himself and his agenda--which is why he cut up my body and messed with my brain and face so badly. Now, while there are humans who act in such a manner, the general thought is that they are criminal, and most definitely not "angelic", unless, of course, they are fallen from God's grace, and to me, that is what the evidence indicates. I successfully fought off some higher dimension being a few days ago. Why can Salusa still abduct me?


I am still pondering those questions, but I have gotten some further answers as to the state of my suffering. There is an energy weapon directed at me by the F2 neighbor. I guess the point is, to make me susceptible to astral abduction, my free will and consent, be damned! However, they want "to control" (my God, what control freaks these psychic/occult communities are) the energy weapon directed at me, so they removed the one that nearly killed me. After all, what good am I to them, if I am dead? It does no good to tell them (after all, I am their slave--THEY decide what is good for me, which usually means that decisions are made on the basis of what is good for THEM!). For the energy weapon that they use to change the brain frequency, which makes for easier astral travelling, causes heavy metal buildup in the brain, and as an autistic, my body and brain CANNOT TOLERATE OR EXCRETE heavy metal as most people can do. So, for the past 5 or 6 years, I have been systematically and slowly POISONED to the point of death. The heavy metals killed much of my healthy muscle tissue and also a significant portion of my neural cells. In the beginning of the poisoning, I would force myself to work out and do yoga, although my capacity for exercise diminished steadily. However, it wasn't until this past year, when the mutilations began in earnest, when not only was the dead muscle cut away, but also LIVING muscle and bone, including an entire set of ribs, that the body no longer was able to do any kind of even moderate exercise. For the entire body has had its natural energy patterns completely cut off and disrupted, so that there is no natural energy flow or response. The muscles are so poorly fitted together, so that the body no longer works properly at all. My arms are bizarrely akimbo to the body, and unable to do certain, even basic functions like zip my pants or wipe my ass, because my shoulders are stumps. The lower back, glutes, and pelvis area is a mess, with none of the proper musculature and response. Waking up with severe back pain yesterday, I tried to do a cobra pose, and found that my legs were so unnaturally fitted into the pelvis, that the lower legs couldn't even touch the floor, no matter how hard I tried, while the thighs only partially did. I look like what I am--a short, fat, little man, stuffed miserably into a grotesque parody of a female body--no doubt that is what Dog Dung Doug found so funny. Oh, but now that I am mutilated, miserable, and barely functional, the patriarchal men finally find me acceptably "feminine" --at least that is what I gather from their continuing hazing.

To assist them in their efforts, they use psychotropic drugs, and yesterday, I got a huge shock! I recognized the same damned psych that I saw years ago, when the lithium poisoning first began! (Lithium is a metal--get it, you dumb fucks. My body and brain can't handle heavy metal. You would think you would get it after years, and literally dozens of times that I have been force fed that shit!). You think that the sons of bitches would have a little remorse and humility after you nearly killed me on the shit 4 or 5 years ago, when I barely saved my own life, going a thousand dollars in debt, moving from motel to motel for over a month, hoping to escape the poison. I may have saved my life, but not before irreparable damage. Not only had the lithium and heavy metal killed off healthy muscle tissue in a body that was then in near perfect condition, but it also had done permanent damage. At that point, I had nearly 100% verbal fluency, often seeing multiple synonyms instantaneously flash in my brain, from which to choose. Now, I have to struggle and grapple for the word I want to say or write, often with frustration and lack of success, something I never have experienced since childhood. I have lost my ability to "see" the words in my brain (because I am autistic, I learned to talk by reading the symbology of words in my own brain), but amazingly enough, other people can! The lithium and heavy metal killed off entire colonies of brain neurons. YOU FRIED MY BRAIN YOU FUCKER, LEAVING IT PERMANENTLY DISABLED, AND I AM GODDAMNED PISSED OFF ABOUT IT, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!!!

Yes, I am referring to one specific individual. Even though it has been years since I saw him, I recognized him yesterday. I don't know his name, so I will call him "Mr. Psych-bossPOS" The first time that I saw Mr. Psych-bossPOS was years ago, in the early stages of the lithium poisoning. I was still struggling to work, but was so sick one day, that I had to call in sick. However, I was on a special pre-plan offer (this was years ago) with the cell phone company, and the bill could only be paid on the day that it was due, or else it messed up the plan. Unfortunately, I could not use the phone on the day that the bill was due, so for a brief period every month, I was without service, until I went to the store and paid the bill. Well, I was too sick to drive the 15 miles to my workplace, but my conscientious work ethic insisted that I called in, so I got up and drug myself to the cell phone store, so sick I could barely hold my head up. While waiting to be assisted, I saw Mr. Psych-bossPOS staring at me. I remember his balding head and mustache. I remember the look that he directed at me. HE was angry at ME! He had no neutral scientific observation going on. He had absolutely no concern, regard, or even awareness of how sick I really was. In an intuitive flash, I knew that this man didn't give a shit about me as a suffering human being, or even a scientific/medical professional solicitude that he make a correct diagnosis. Instead, he was angry at me, because he thought that I was "faking it" or exaggerating my illness, which he regarded as an affront to his professional pride!!! That is what Mr. Psych-bossPOS is all about--an incredibly small minded man with an obsessive need to be proved right.

A doctor is a medical SCIENTIST. They are supposed to rationally (neutrally) observe what is really going on, make diagnosis, and prescribe treatments accordingly. They adjust or discontinue/continue any diagnosis/ treatments based on an honest appraisal of the results of sny treatment. Dr. Psych-bossPOS is a totally crap doctor. He is not capable of rationally assessing the results of his treatment. His immature, personal pride is too much involved for him to be able to make such an honest assessment. I saw that in an intuitive flash that day.

You know, a lot of doctors suffer from professional pride, and this is understandable given the years of study and rigorous training they undergo to get their MD. Given all the abuse I have encountered at the hands of medical doctors in the past few years, I recognize when an instant or superficial diagnosis/treatment is prescribed with scant regard to the patient as a participating subject in their own health treatment. I blame the AMA/medical school orientation for much of this. The practice of medicine has been infiltrated and taken over by the negative cabal (in this country the Rockefeller/Big Pharma cabal), so that it has become a mind-control profession, as the clergy was for centuries. Certainly, I have suffered it as well. I am a little bit "different" in personality, so there must be some diagnosis that justifies some pharmaceutical, which will make me "normal".

Trust me, this man, Dr. Psych-bossPOS doesn't suffer from even this professional pride. It is personal. In the intuitive flash that I got of him at the store, I could see that he is such a warped, sick human being, that he HAS to be right or it destroys his own deficient ego esteem. His anger at me that day was pathological. He is so sick and weak, that there is no doubt in my mind that he would rather see me essentially destroyed (in the same way that Salusa had to essentially destroy me, in order to feel comfortable with me) than to be wrong. It is personal. A weak, evil person (again, my mother--I attract these beings like flies), needs to destroy what is stronger, healthier, happier than them. They don't want to kill me--just make me less than fully alive, so that they can be satisfied with the own limited lot in life they have chosen for themselves.

I gained further insight into him, later, when I read or watched vido of either Burisch or the pony-tailed white haired whistleblower, who were talking about medical doctors who work for these black ops agencies. I think it was in regard to the medical abuse experienced by a Gray, and I think that I saw that abuse. There is a video floating around the web, and a "Gray" is trying to psychically communicate with a human "captor" (certainly, it was not an equal or free relationship). The Gray was in distress, and the concern is that the blood vessels in their eyes pop under severe duress, so the human psychic called for a medic, who grabbed him roughly and shone a flashlight in his eyes, without any regard of solicitude or concern. I think there is a 90%+ probability that video is true. Looking at that video, I consider the treatment of that Gray to be unacceptably inhumane. Even assuming worst case scenario, that this Gray is an enemy of the US and humanity, no sentient being deserves to be treated that way. It is torture. I have nearly had a stroke on several occasions, because the goddamned black ops people are trying to force my brain to communicate on a different level. If that has to be done as part of an interrogation, then at least, they should be treated like sick and injured beings, when even the interrogator feels the need for medical intervention, not like an unfeeling, soulless lump of flesh you shove around. I know some Grays don't have soul, but soulless beings don't suffer. This Gray was clearly suffering deeply.

Anyway, the whistleblower was saying that a big problem at these black ops facilities was that the medical staff were so sub par. As he mentioned, "no respectable doctor would be involved in this kind of secretive, black ops work, so instead they get the scrapings from the absolute bottom of the barrel--doctors which would not be able to find work any place else for any length of time". Once I listened to, or read that, I KNEW that Dr. Psych-bossPOS fitted into that category of substandard medical doctor who was such a poor practitioner, he would not be able to find employment elsewhere--which of course exacerbates the wounded self-esteem that I sensed years ago. One last interesting story about this encounter. As I was sitting there waiting for the doctor, an ill-looking woman (very pale and strained), asked me, how I was feeling. I said, "not so good". She asked if I had cancer, and I said no, that I didn't know what was wrong with me, but that I was very sick. She replied, I can tell by looking at you that you are very sick. You know, I have cancer, and am undergoing chemo, and let me tell you, that there are bad days, but there are good days. You have to fight through the bad days, so that you can live the good ones". I would be very surprised if that woman had even a year of college, but she, in her untrained, lay compassion, could see the extent of my suffering, whereas Dr. Psychboss-OS, with all his education and training, was completely oblivious to it. And I do mean oblivious...I don't think the suffering of a person enters his frame of reference when assigning either diagnosis, treatment or disposition.

For this was not the only indication that he would have had as to how suffering and sick I really was. Two weeks after a brief physical with an MD (one of those who suffer the genuine version of professional PRIDE--not PROFESSIONAL pride), I went back for my muscles had been completely spasmed and locked, so that I could barely turn my torso (keep in mind the first time I saw her, I had demonstrated a very high degree of flexibility--I was doing yoga 3X's a week). The lithium had started. She ignored me. I got sicker, and went back and asked for a cat scan, because I knew something was not right with my brain. No empathy whatsoever (at this point I had written off the doctor, but I was desperate to find out what was going on with me). No change. I became sicker and sicker, taken to motel hopping and sleeping in a campground in winter weather, in order to avoid the environmental poison that I knew was slowly killing me (I knew that they sprayed it on me at work, as well, but I HAD to work, or I would have no money). I became increasingly catatonic, and knew that soon, I would no longer be able to work. I wanted to go to the desert to either heal or die, but before I did, I went for a new pair of glasses. The eye doctor found what other doctors and cat scans couldn't--that there was massive swelling in my brain. So began a couple of years of healing, and various treatments, finally culminating in surgery on my one optic nerve. The other needs it, but I am terrified to go under anesthesia, because it was during this surgery that implants were put in me. So you see, not only in my blog do I rant about my sufferings, but there has been plenty of medical corroboration. So imagine my surprise, not only at the stupidity of completely recycling dozens of times, drug treatments, that these PIBs know don't work, but to see my original nemesis, parked in my parking spot when I came home! He was visiting the neighbor, and I guess wanted to assess me visually (you POS, your diagnostic vision is absolutely blind. It wouldn't matter if I were two inches from you. You have ignored repeated--as in literally dozens--indicators that all your psychotropic treatments are disastrous. You have medically presided over my disintegration from someone who was in near peak physical fitness and health (a little overweight), with a productive and joyful life and love of neighbor and self, into a pathetic wreck of flesh, whose near daily exercise and book reading routines are extinct. I have no flexibility, no stamina, no energy, no strength--none. I live to die to escape from this miserable existence, so I guess you can be happy now that you have doctored me into something that more resembles yourself. Congratulations. You may be a worthless piece of shit as a medical doctor, but you certainly have succeeded in your ultimate objective.