derailed

alien presence here

Came to save me.

I am healed.

Finally SAFE from TBH psych wards where I was still held in my mind. In TERROR. Fear for my LIFE!

It’s all about my famous computer program that I created at Harvard. In the halls of the new Science Center where Bill Gates and his crew had recently walked. It was the one unadulterated pleasure of my life. (Except for Ian.)

The program generated essays on input poetry.

It was the first thing of its kind. Launched language AI as we know it!!!

Secured the one real job I ever had that secured my SSDI disability pay for the rest of my life when I came to need it. After the state hospital, after the ICU.

Won my husband’s heart: and provided a little security in our marriage.

So, they used to say that a writer writes to justify their existence; so, I lost that power through the trauma in the ICU in ’86. I write now, but not as did. Or hoped to. I needed to live longer and experience more; but not as it happened. What happened destroyed me. I’m still stuck there in the ’80’s where this went down.

So, I got my disability pay–after asking God for enough money to sit and think out the world’s problems.

Not even knowing what had happened!!! Going to the state hospital was so traumatizing and all the events involved were so traumatizing that I was totally blocked on what happened in the ICU and afterward until I met Alex at a singles function in Reading 4 years later. He was from out of town like me. Things started to come to mind. Slowly I pieced together what had happened within six weeks of arriving here from Boston in ’86.

So, for a woman, having a child is usually the ultimate justification. It was for me. I did’t mind about the rest after that.

But the computer program still gives me satisfaction and, now that the most difficult parts of the mothering are over and I am sorting out the wheat from the chaffe and clinging to a validation by the alien that I saw who came here today and wiped away some of the worst tears of my life and reset my circuits to a more positive mode.

In the meantime I have morphed off of the wart-mole being that I was and gained new life over what I lost in the ICU in ’86 with the help of aliens and i just have to mention a special friend in Florida, a counselor, Hal Bishop, who had s similar situation. He had something taken off his face. I didn’t understand at the time. He said something brilliant about blocking. That people, like bad parents for instance, really do it.

I couldn’t stay at the time. But now that is a cornerstone of my healing.

I’ll live to see another day!

And to be a better mother!