rape

so it started with the rosetta stone for relationships in our family, it gave it to a young fellow whom I had been pestering, I think his name was Timothy. I was calling him iTim for some reason and forcing him to listen to my sad story. He was young, I had just turned 60. Although I still felt like I was 20.

I had just met an alien in my ancient PA Dutch farmhouse home and after disabling everything violently I fled to the local psych ward where I was trying to report what had happened. Actually I had also seen the image of my father with a handgun saying I had 5 minutes to get out. He lives on the other side of the house. So, I got out.

I wound up on a psych ward one city away,

The doctors had twice refused to provide me with psych meds and I was being accused of refusing to take them. Nothing I said seemed to be able to get through to these people, chiefly my father. I got back on the Clozaril and began to restabilize. But that took a while. In the meantime, some horrible things happened in the local, psych-only hospital in the downtown of the city where I wound up under similarly dubious and difficult circumstances 35 years ago.

PLEASE NOTE: I am back on handfuls of meds but I still believe in the aliens. One of them is with me right now. They followed me through this entire journey, which is how I stayed alive. And I am not going to tell the whole story, just the core that needs to get out for people to understand and leave me alone.

So, after I let iTim go he got pissed even though I had been annoying him and as it was a loony psych ward and pretty tense too, the men started ganging up on me. I am going to cut to the chase. You wont like to hear it but neither do I like to have had to go through it. I am just remember tonight after 6 months. It happened, therefore, around Christmas and New Years time.

To be brief (I am writing from what is being released to my memory from people who know who have been blocking me for my mental and emotional safety) things got out of hands and the men dragged me into the one-bed room where there was a very large shower. They took shits on me and urinated on me and then raped me. In the course of this they realized that I didn’t (as I generally inform people) have much of a clitoris because of a sexual injury and the urethra is damaged too so I am not really sexual and the whole thing was a nasty farce and they just wanted to forget about it. So they knocked me unconscious. I am told they put me in a ambulance and they left me in some woods nearby.

What is a problem is that I stayed living.

Someone found me and took me to a nearby General Hospital where they cleaned me up and shocked me half to death to try to block the trauma that I had obviously experienced with a worse physical trauma experienced.

Unfortunately, 6 months later, now that I am as good as I can be, I cannot move forward without integrating the intellectual knowledge of theses events with my understanding of what happened when they took me BACK to the psych ward to heal and then sent me on to a further hospital where I didn’t have much chance of staying alive.

But I did, and I got discharged, and I am safe, happy, and free.

And a person very close to me who cares is willing to try to do his best to keep me that way.

One thing I DO have out of thing is a collection of this is a crayon-colored collection of drawings of aliens, me, my family that I created during my stay at the last stop before getting my father to come through and get me discharged and I am wondering if there is anyone out there who would take a legitimate interest. If so, please reply via comment to this blog post.

(Crayon, because you aren’t allowed to used pen or pencil on a psych ward.)