Loving Imperfect Mothers

Wow, I just unblocked a HUGE piece of programming that I didn’t even know I had. I mean, I knew something wrong had happened in the hospital, I knew that, but on medication I could never really get a clear picture of what it was. But after reading Ewan Cameron’s writing on psychic driving I suddenly understood what happened.

I got two programs, the first one is about mothers, so I’ll explain how they do it. And remember, it might be triggering but it’s also really illuminating, so have someone close by if you need it.

I was influenced by MANY things to go insane, like Riel it was crunch time, the world was on the brink of war and I had to stop it. But instead of feeling like with everyone I could stop it, I became an army of one, and I knew I could do it because I had so much information. And previous to this I had spent a lot of time researching ritual abuse, just because I was meeting so many ritual abuse survivors that I wanted to know how to avoid setting them off or how they got hurt or how you could help them. And the more I read the more it seemed impossible, it was like a highly wired brain/bomb and one false move could detonate it. And I was also highly empathetic already and living in a poverty situation with two survivors. So I was actually going crazy for them, I took on their stuff just because I didn’t know how to block that kind of energy out. And I heard about a specific kind of ritual abuse from them, but I wasn’t raised in an organized cult like that. I was raised in colonialism though, which amounts to the same thing.

But Montreal already established itself as a mind control psychiatric system. It had the work of Ewan Cameron to thank for that, and I’m sure many before him. So I flipped, I was malnourished and poor and I didn’t know anyone really and I came home and started acting weird. Plus I found out about what happened in Vancouver to those women. So I flipped, and I was upset, and being a gifted person all my senses went completely haywire. I have a bizarrely complex brain, so when I started connecting dots it just went on and on ad infinitum. And some of those places are still worthwhile, but it just went on overload and stuff came pouring out of me in a really incomprehensible chatter.

So what do people do when someone gets incomprehensible? They take them to the only place that they know that helps people, the psychiatric ward.

And that’s where programs get installed. Therapy sessions were designed to convince me that not only was I a sick and worthless individual, but also that my mother had done this to me. I was fucked over by my mother. My mother didn’t protect me, in fact she sent me to this place, which was abusive, and if she did that then it obviously meant she hated me. Her number was blocked from the hospital phone I used so that I couldn’t call her until six weeks was over. When she called the hospital they hung up on her. They kept me in a french speaking ward because then the patients would see this bizarre anglophone talking in a language they literally didn’t understand. They knew I was a rape survivor, so they deliberately made me stay in all the wards that a sexual offender was staying in. They knew I was falling in love so they convinced me I wasn’t just some goofy girl in love, I was a stalker, a psychotic stalker, and that’s when I did do something stalky after the program was in. They knew I was smart, my mother told them I was smart, so medications were piled on with definite instructions that I had to take them for ever, and these were seriously cognitively affecting drugs, including 20mg of Zyprexa, which was already known to cause weight and diabetes. And the final nail in the coffin was to convince me that my mother was out to get me, that my mother would hurt me again.

And they used her too. She got a different story, I was calling when I could yelling at her for being a bad mother because they made me think about it every minute of everyday. So suddenly my incomprehensible behaviour, while before it was noble and about saving the world, became incomprehensible behaviour about hating my mother, which scared her of course. And then she would talk to the doctors to try to understand why I was doing that, and they assured her it was normal for sick people to do that, that was how psychotic episodes worked, but I would thank her in the end. That point was always affirmed to her over and over, I would eventually thank her because she was doing it for my own good.

So I stagger out and on all these pills and knowing I was so not healed, I was broken in fact, but I barely moved and I had stopped talking, so they assumed the therapy worked, this would be the best I could ever hope to get. And I tried to tell my mom that the hospital was a bad place, but it would trigger both of our programs now. She needed to believe she had done the right thing, because mothers always want to protect their kids. So she dug her feet in and reinforced the programming. She didn’t know there was programming though, they just used her mothery instincts which every mother has. So to her it sounded like “I did it because I loved you” but to me I would hear “I did it because I hate you.” And that would trigger the programming again. I would want to explain what was wrong with the hospital but suddenly I hated my mother again and she was ruining my life, instead of just being a human being. So I would get agitated, because I was programmed to get agitated, and the thoughts would scramble themselves again to this screen memory. And this need to talk to my mother was what would heal me, but when I started healing I kicked off the programming as a matter of course. I had a bomb for a brain. And when I kicked off the programming suddenly I would remember the hospital, because that’s where the trouble started. And I would remember the cops and I would remember the violence and I desperately didn’t want to go back.

So suddenly, boom, crunch time, the thoughts go weird because it’s a turning point in deprogramming. And my mom was taught that when I went through that healing episode which now looked highly violent, it was time to take me back to the hospital for her own safety. And if she did take me to the hospital, the programming would be reinstalled. No healing, no growth, just a constant schism between myself and humanity, and especially between myself and my mother.

I can’t believe I unravelled my programming. I was worried I wouldn’t. But it suddenly looks so silly, those weren’t any of my thoughts, that my mother was my ruin and that me in love is a stalker and that I was never going to amount to anything. They took the last little bits of hope I had and manipulated them into something seriously fucked up. And they did it outside of what people view as traditional satanic ritual abuse. And they use the medication to keep it in, because higher level cognitivity is what leads people to empathy and healing. Basically, they kill the intelligence to make a good slave class that will be grateful just being able to hammer a piece of wood or wash cars. And then the word on the street is, this is the best we can ever hope from these people.

My mission is to learn to love my imperfect mother, because she’s just a human being like the rest of us.