I had a life once. I had a career. I had my own vehicle, my own savings account. I had a small circle of friends who I believed that I could trust. I had a daughter who was also my best friend. I was active in my community and devoted my time to helping other people, every chance I got. I was an outspoken, fierce advocate for justice and truth. A warrior, by any definition. I kicked ass every day, and I was proud of who I was.
I believed that I had overcome years of childhood physical and psychological abuse, and come out of it a better person for having experienced it. It makes me laugh a little sadly now, that what was already a horrific, lonely and dehumanizing existence turned out to be only a small scratch on the surface of the much worse horrors I had been subjected to, but did not know about, in my waking life. Knowing the truth about myself now and how long I was living an illusion makes me feel a wistful, wry sort of sadness for that fierce, proud, accomplished person I used to be. I often say that awakening to my enslavement was like a death, because that person died. She fell away, along with the rest of the illusion, and it took me a very long time to stop mourning the loss of her.
But letting go of who I thought I was needed to be done, because it was a lie. Everything I ever thought to be true and real was proven to be only illusory. The hardest part about being a survivor of this, for me, is realizing that I’m not sure what in my life was actually my choice and what was not. I was basically slapped in the face with this realization when I discovered that not only were all of my family members Hivite cannibals or their slave minions, EVERYONE else I knew were, too.
Everyone I’ve ever been friends with, worked for, dated…all are Hivites. My doctors. My attorney. My landlords. My employers. One of the worst feelings I’ve ever had was when I looked up the address list of Frank’s Franks and Joseph’s Bistro that Chris Cronsell posted (for those who don’t know, there’s a national list of front businesses for a network of fictitious restaurants that were themselves a front for advertising the sale of children to other Hivites) on his Twitter last year, and found one of them to be the children’s hospital I worked at for six years, right here in San Antonio. The largest and most renowned children’s hospital in the city, as a matter of fact. When I saw that address, I got physically sick. I was WORKING for these people! How many innocent children had I unwittingly helped deliver directly into harm’s way???
I realized that the only way to be certain of who was or was not one of them in my immediate environment would be to troll them, because they knew immediately that I had woken up and they were all on high alert. They were so obvious that it would have actually struck me as hilarious at times, had it not been so horrifying and surreal. I cannot describe how it felt to sit on my front porch steps and watch the same drones passing by, day after day, shouting trigger language at me. Nonsensical phrases that made them sound unhinged. If any normal person had witnessed this, they would assume the entire neighborhood was populated by escapees from an insane asylum.
They launched such a relentless financial attack on me that I was facing homelessness for the third time since 2012, (which is when all of this actually began and my world ended) and how I realized my landlord was also a Hivite. I had to quit my job because my employer had started to, quite suddenly and blatantly, attempt to trigger me. He also began to openly refer to me as “My Queen”, and “Divine Goddess”. In this weird, reverent, almost whispery tone. They all do that, and it’s exceedingly creepy. And I had to quit when I realized that none of my co-workers ever questioned or seemed bothered by his abrupt change in behavior.
Eventually, I took a surgical approach, because I realized that I could not keep up this exhausting race of trying to identify the Hivites among the humans, and it had actually become more of a case of humans among the Hivites instead. I cut everyone out of my life. Everyone. The hardest was my daughter. Someone whom I love told me that I would know if my daughter was one of them if I confronted her and she tried to use tactics on me, and she was not wrong. I knew. Because I did confront her, and the first thing she did was use every tactic in the playbook, and when that didn’t work, she tried to manipulate my husband into getting involved. I walked away from them ALL.
Of course THAT resulted in unbridled panic, because without direct access to me they could not introduce triggers into my field, and could not thusly control what I did and perceived. They deliberately put me in the middle of this enormous hive masquerading as a city, so they could control every little tiny detail of my life. The Hive owns everything in this city, including its law enforcement and public servants. They also had surveillance equipment in my home, and remote access to my device.
Whenever I left my house and went for a walk, I was immediately followed. One night, my husband and I decided to go for a walk. We lived very close to the Alamo, in Southtown. We took a completely different route than usual, and we did it abruptly…started off in one direction and then suddenly went the other way, without warning. A few blocks down the street, we started noticing all these different people passing by us wearing identical black polo shirts and khaki shorts, at seemingly random intervals. There were little groups of people, too, and they all stopped talking when we passed by them.
My husband, who had a difficult time accepting all of this, could see that these people were not genuine bystanders. He’s lived here his entire life. It was almost 1 a.m. on a Wednesday morning, and the number of pedestrians clustered in the areas they were gathered in, at that time of night, was highly unusual. And little groups don’t just shut up when other people pass by fifty feet away from where they’re huddled, talking. This is a tourist area. We both knew we were being watched and followed, and it was just unbelievably surreal for us, the stark realization of this.
It is not my place to tell my husband’s story, but I will disclose this much, for clarity: I surgically excised everyone from my life except for him, and the one thing that gave me the courage to trust him at all (because his family are Hivites, too) was the simple fact that neither of our families wanted us to be together. And one thing that is consistent in my experience with them is that if they adamantly don’t want me to do something, that means I should definitely do it. That may sound cold and calculated of me, but I assure you it is not. I was enslaved my entire life by the chains of emotional and psychological manipulation. Mind control. If something passes the logic test, then that is where I place my faith these days.
They have relentlessly attacked me up until just recently, where their behavior de-escalated and changed to just following and watching me. I still troll them, not too hard, just so they know that I see them. They still try to trigger responses from me online. Some of them do it in DMs on Twitter, under the guise of concern or curiosity. It won’t work, because they give themselves away. They are slaves to their playbook, and they do not deviate from it. They can’t, because they are not permitted to think for themselves. They are not a threat to me. They’re just programmed drones, performing a task. I feel sorry for their plight because it is an exhausting, tormented way to exist. But I won’t excuse or tolerate aggressive behavior or deception from them.
Everyone compliments me on my level of patience with these people, but it requires conscious effort to balance emotion and logic that I have to work very hard at, every day. It is good for me, to put into practice what I offer to others as advice and guidance. Words are great, and I consider communication to be an art form, but behavior is what really matters. I can talk in beautiful and poetic ways all day about this, but if I do not put it into practice, what good are my beautiful words to anyone, really?
I mostly just want all of this to be over with. I want to see the slaves set free. Children, out of even the remotest of harm’s paths. And, selfishly perhaps, I want to have time and peace in which to discover what I really like and desire for myself. I have realized that I’m not even sure what my favorite color really is. It’s like that. I want to have a life again. And this time, I intend for it to be my own.
Thank you for reading and seeing my truth. N’amaste, beautiful souls. ❤