An example of the process of memory recovery
Throughout most of my life, I had reoccurring nightmares and flashbacks of the same haunting scenes. The dreams and flashbacks were as real as life, if not more so. The instant that the memories flashed before my mind, my mind would tell me the scenes were real memories, but a second later another part of my mind would pull the curtain and tell me it was nothing, nothing at all. Sometimes I would faintly hear a voice like a screaming whisper echoing across my conscious mind like a shooting streak of lightning. “Remember to remember.” it said. Then like a fly swatter, another part of my mind would try to murder the words and tell me that I never heard those words at all. But, deep in my soul, I knew I had said those words to myself…sometime long ago…so I wouldn’t forget….just before I forgot….forgot what?…I wondered. Maybe it was nothing, nothing at all. ~ Carolyn Hamlett ~
Next scene-I am sitting in a yellow scoop plastic chair with metal legs.
It reminds me of a school classroom with out desks. I believe the rooms are on the floor level of the facility.
So, a war inside me began. The little girl who was being taken at night for programming, experimentation and rituals screamed to be free and wanted me to remember to remember so she could be free. I saw no way she could be free, but I could be free of her and the pain and memories... if I shut her out…which I did.
So, what was first depression, then reoccurring dreams and flash backs...the truth was those were simply the affects of repressed and dissociated memories and the unraveling of the trauma based mind control programming of my youth.
She explained to me that suicidal programming was often set to engage on a birthday or a holiday. Programmers use it as a means to cause the programed person to self destruct before they reach an age where the breaking down of their programming makes them a viable witnesses against the criminals responsible for the atrocities committed against them and others.
Like bubbles that had been trapped from rising to the surface, when the integrity of the veil that held them began to fail and unravel, the memories, like unhindered bubbles began to naturally and slowly rise to the surface to join and fill in the gaps like perfect fitting puzzle pieces.
“Who do you trust and what is real? Then, someone writes about and asks about those same experiences that haunt your life. All those ghosts that have terrorized your life and prevented a connection with another human being are suddenly documented in a survey. To learn that there are others with the same existence is bittersweet. It’s something that you’ve never wished on anyone else, but are relieved to learn that the insanity is not just in your mind. Unfortunately, the greater the numbers of strangers who have lived this tortured existence, the more validity there is that this atrocity occurs. This the world needs to know.” (Psychologist and Extreme Abuse Survivor – January, 2007)”
Over the next few years, more and more bubbles of memories also made their way to the surface. More and more dots began to connect in my life. As more and more dots connected, the very fabric that held captive the haunting echoes of my past, disintegrated.
The next moment of conscious awareness I had was laying on the gurney being wheeled back into my hospital room by the same two young men who had taken me to the surgery room. The other children who shared the room looked shocked and frightened as their eyes scanned me. I don’t know what I looked like to them, but it must have been pretty bad going by the horrified looks on their faces. As they quickly retreated to their beds, the orderlies started laughing at them and in a sing song kind of way, one of the orderlies sang out “Who wants to be ne-xxxt?” That is when the curtains closed on my consciousness like a flatline and the lights went out.