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I await your every word . . . 
This is NOT OK !!!!
Gold Meritorious Patron
I don't want to derail the thread, but.............
THANKS ARNIE!!
.............I too have learned so much from you and I'm taking this moment to let you know.
You're a hero!
:dancer::dancer::dancer:
THANKS ARNIE!!
.............I too have learned so much from you and I'm taking this moment to let you know.
You're a hero!
:dancer::dancer::dancer:
This is NOT OK !!!!
Gold Meritorious Patron
It's interesting to me that others have mentioned having trouble reading. I too have felt this way, at least in the sense of having less interest in reading and also I've lost interest in some of my favorite hobbies.
Does anyone know if these are symtoms of PTSD?
The_Fixer
Class Clown
I think this happens to many people who are under huge emotional stress. Possibly the mind has enough to deal with whilst it is processing its current issues and cannot deal with anything else. A defence mechanism to prevent further overload?
From what I have been researching, this is pretty standard sociopathic strategy, practiced to varying degrees. It diverts attention away from their problem or fault and back onto you so they never have to face or take responsibility for anything.
sallydannce
Gold Meritorious Patron
To thank you
Thank you for your input to this thread. I read your words and I so appreciate them.
I wish I could respond to your posts, I want to, but at this time I am on a roll with my story and will just stay focused on what I started out to do.
I just want you to know I am very grateful. For you. For life.
Thank you for your input to this thread. I read your words and I so appreciate them.
I wish I could respond to your posts, I want to, but at this time I am on a roll with my story and will just stay focused on what I started out to do.
I just want you to know I am very grateful. For you. For life.
sallydannce
Gold Meritorious Patron
My foggy lean – part two
I remember not being able to tell hot from cold. Hot water? Cold water? I could not tell what was coming out of taps.
Each morning I would try to get out of bed and I remembered that one takes a shower and then gets dressed. I would put the shower tap on the middle setting – warm – and hope I had a warm shower. I couldn’t feel a damn thing so put my faith in the shower tap mixer.
I’d sit on the shower floor (the bath actually as the shower was over the bath) and sob. “God what has happened to me!” The fear was complete. Perfect absolute fear. It’s odd but I noticed the perfection of my fear. I remember a thought I had – the terror of being so dissociated consumed me and I had this thought, “give in, succumb to this.” In some weird way I wondered if I just felt the terror I might feel something other than the terror. If I was capable of just experiencing the terror, then maybe that would pass, wear itself out type thing. It somehow made sense I would come back from that and feel other things. I was looking for the tiniest shaft of hope – of light.
After showering (don’t go thinking this was a normal shower where soap and shampoo was used. I just sat under the water), I remember trying to find climate-appropriate clothes. Winter or summer? I couldn’t feel the temperature so I found other ways of determining what I should wear. I’d look out the window, down into the apartment compound and look at what people were wearing to get clues about how to dress.
Then I remembered one had breakfast after one showered and dressed. I would walk into the kitchen and wonder why I was bothering. I couldn’t taste food. But I was pretending to be alive and that meant I should eat some food. So I’d put food into my mouth.
And chew. And swallow, mechanically.
I remember thinking "If I'm gonna make it back, I need to keep my energy up. Swallow kid. Just swallow this food."
I remember not being able to tell hot from cold. Hot water? Cold water? I could not tell what was coming out of taps.
Each morning I would try to get out of bed and I remembered that one takes a shower and then gets dressed. I would put the shower tap on the middle setting – warm – and hope I had a warm shower. I couldn’t feel a damn thing so put my faith in the shower tap mixer.
I’d sit on the shower floor (the bath actually as the shower was over the bath) and sob. “God what has happened to me!” The fear was complete. Perfect absolute fear. It’s odd but I noticed the perfection of my fear. I remember a thought I had – the terror of being so dissociated consumed me and I had this thought, “give in, succumb to this.” In some weird way I wondered if I just felt the terror I might feel something other than the terror. If I was capable of just experiencing the terror, then maybe that would pass, wear itself out type thing. It somehow made sense I would come back from that and feel other things. I was looking for the tiniest shaft of hope – of light.
After showering (don’t go thinking this was a normal shower where soap and shampoo was used. I just sat under the water), I remember trying to find climate-appropriate clothes. Winter or summer? I couldn’t feel the temperature so I found other ways of determining what I should wear. I’d look out the window, down into the apartment compound and look at what people were wearing to get clues about how to dress.
Then I remembered one had breakfast after one showered and dressed. I would walk into the kitchen and wonder why I was bothering. I couldn’t taste food. But I was pretending to be alive and that meant I should eat some food. So I’d put food into my mouth.
And chew. And swallow, mechanically.
I remember thinking "If I'm gonna make it back, I need to keep my energy up. Swallow kid. Just swallow this food."
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sallydannce
Gold Meritorious Patron
So so sorry you endured this Sallydannce. Please continue, I'm expecting a happy ending. I know you survived and that is as much as I could hope to expect at this point.
Thanks GT. I remember thinking around this time that I would have never left the mind-control tunnel had I known the havoc (& damage) it would create.
I had this slight awareness what was going on. I knew the fracturing, the dissociation, was due to the dropping of Hubbard's stuff. I did have some slight awareness of this.
And yes there is one of the most joyous endings! Oh yeah! The woman writing this is so strong, so alive and so full of gratitude. She was given the greatest of gifts. She knows, absolutely knows, what she is capable of - warts and all.
sallydannce
Gold Meritorious Patron
My foggy lean – part three
Most days I took myself for a walk to the local café which was about a five minute walk from the apartment. I remembered it was good to get a little exercise so I set myself the task of walking to the café, getting a coffee, and walking home again.
It was so hard to walk, to judge the distance between my feet and the ground. I would either heavily hit the ground, sort of thump along, or I’d walk like one does when one tip-toes – very lightly.
Crossing the road was an issue, so I would just tag along behind someone else. I simply could not estimate the distance/speed of approaching cars/cyclists.
But the worst part of these walks was walking on a lean. I mean I know it sounds funny now but it was like my head was on my shoulders on a lean.
My head felt really really heavy on one side. I remember wondering if I’d had some sort of brain haemorrhage. My head felt so weird.
Everything was so foggy. The world before me was in a haze. You know like when you are in low-cloud up in the hills – the clouds waft past you, misty-like. That’s how everything looked. Everything sort of looked like it had a gossamer curtain passing over it which gave it a subtle movement.
I just kept pretending I was normal as much as I could. I told no one what was happening with me. I just did my best to stay alive and get through the days.
I am healing as I write this. There is no pain in my heart or in my gut.
There are no tears.
Most days I took myself for a walk to the local café which was about a five minute walk from the apartment. I remembered it was good to get a little exercise so I set myself the task of walking to the café, getting a coffee, and walking home again.
It was so hard to walk, to judge the distance between my feet and the ground. I would either heavily hit the ground, sort of thump along, or I’d walk like one does when one tip-toes – very lightly.
Crossing the road was an issue, so I would just tag along behind someone else. I simply could not estimate the distance/speed of approaching cars/cyclists.
But the worst part of these walks was walking on a lean. I mean I know it sounds funny now but it was like my head was on my shoulders on a lean.
My head felt really really heavy on one side. I remember wondering if I’d had some sort of brain haemorrhage. My head felt so weird.
Everything was so foggy. The world before me was in a haze. You know like when you are in low-cloud up in the hills – the clouds waft past you, misty-like. That’s how everything looked. Everything sort of looked like it had a gossamer curtain passing over it which gave it a subtle movement.
I just kept pretending I was normal as much as I could. I told no one what was happening with me. I just did my best to stay alive and get through the days.
I am healing as I write this. There is no pain in my heart or in my gut.
There are no tears.
Jump
Operating teatime
Re: My foggy lean – part two
Whoa - that got the tears rolling..
Someone said - "In life you have to be your own best friend." I'm so glad that through this, you were your own best friend.
Thank you for showing the way.
Whoa - that got the tears rolling..
Someone said - "In life you have to be your own best friend." I'm so glad that through this, you were your own best friend.
Thank you for showing the way.
Re: My foggy lean – part three
That is fantastic Sally, a testament to the fortitude, intelligence, and love you have brought to your recovery. A miracle really, considering how utterly broken you were then.
I must say, I shed tears when I read what you went through. I confess some of the tears are relief that I didn't suffer that break after leaving, that haemorrhage, fracturing, torment, and pain. I think because I was in for only about 6 years, I was able to just zip together my life before with my life after and almost obliterate that time of madness. Only since I came on ESMB, almost 30 years later have I examined what ocurred and what it did to me.
That is fantastic Sally, a testament to the fortitude, intelligence, and love you have brought to your recovery. A miracle really, considering how utterly broken you were then.
I must say, I shed tears when I read what you went through. I confess some of the tears are relief that I didn't suffer that break after leaving, that haemorrhage, fracturing, torment, and pain. I think because I was in for only about 6 years, I was able to just zip together my life before with my life after and almost obliterate that time of madness. Only since I came on ESMB, almost 30 years later have I examined what ocurred and what it did to me.
sallydannce
Gold Meritorious Patron
An organic story
I am writing this story without an outline or some kind of plan. I am writing it as it unfolds, as it comes into my head. When I sit down, I haven't got a clue what I am going to write about. Probably not the best method of recounting a story.
A friend just emailed me and basically said “I know you! You’re writing this on the edge aren’t you? No outline, right? You haven’t got a clue what you’re going to write next?”
Yep. Correct! lol
I felt the only honourable way to write this was like it was lived. No outline or plan. No maps. Just bash on through.
Inch by inch..moment by moment.
All the way home…
I am writing this story without an outline or some kind of plan. I am writing it as it unfolds, as it comes into my head. When I sit down, I haven't got a clue what I am going to write about. Probably not the best method of recounting a story.
A friend just emailed me and basically said “I know you! You’re writing this on the edge aren’t you? No outline, right? You haven’t got a clue what you’re going to write next?”
Yep. Correct! lol
I felt the only honourable way to write this was like it was lived. No outline or plan. No maps. Just bash on through.
Inch by inch..moment by moment.
All the way home…
Yeah, I think that's the best way to write it — just whatever comes up, no editing, no cut and pasting. I believe it is coming through true and pure and real. It is amazing how you are able to hit it squarely even when you are recalling foggy times. Love you. xxoo
sallydannce
Gold Meritorious Patron
Life in the fog – part one
We had guests visit us in China. When I was in my fog I had guests to entertain and to show around China. Whew! I was rude and nasty and irritable and just plain awful at times.
I was totally depleted. I felt like an actress in my own life. I pretended to feel things which I simply could not feel. Things like when they expressed their enjoyment of the local food, I’d just agree it was delicious even though I couldn’t taste the food.
I’d go on outings with our guests and fake everything. I’d smile as I watched them enjoying their holiday. I’d discuss China with them – just like I thought a normal person might. Inside I was screaming, “don’t they know I am so broken? Can’t they see how broken I am?”
I sort of wanted to tell someone but I didn’t have any explanation for what had happened to me. I also feared that if I did tell someone they would have me locked up or judge me or somehow make it all worse. So I just stayed deep within myself and protected myself.
This is where I started to learn to love myself. Very very slowly, I started to appreciate that all the answers I needed were within me.
I remember the first day I laughed a genuine laugh. I had this wonderful girlfriend in Shanghai. I am going to call her Francis (not her real name). Francis didn’t know about my involvement with the cult but she knew about the infidelity. She knew I was suffering but she thought it was only because of the infidelity.
She was very sweet to me. She’d phone me and say she was coming round and taking me out. We’d go to clothes shops and cafes and various places around Shanghai.
I don’t know why so many incredible people appeared in my life but they did. And she was definitely one of the shining lights in my life.
Francis was a very funny woman. An Aussie by birth, she could do excellent impersonations and accents. One day she told some joke and I heard this noise which was coming from my throat and out of my mouth. It sounded sort of like a laugh. I asked Francis “did I just laugh?”
She put her arms around me, and said “yes my friend you did! You’re going to be fine!” I think I cried as she held me and then we did what two women who have mild caffeine addictions do - headed out the door to our fav café. So normal, so real.
I could laugh! I could spontaneously laugh! Oh wow! A break-through!
We had guests visit us in China. When I was in my fog I had guests to entertain and to show around China. Whew! I was rude and nasty and irritable and just plain awful at times.
I was totally depleted. I felt like an actress in my own life. I pretended to feel things which I simply could not feel. Things like when they expressed their enjoyment of the local food, I’d just agree it was delicious even though I couldn’t taste the food.
I’d go on outings with our guests and fake everything. I’d smile as I watched them enjoying their holiday. I’d discuss China with them – just like I thought a normal person might. Inside I was screaming, “don’t they know I am so broken? Can’t they see how broken I am?”
I sort of wanted to tell someone but I didn’t have any explanation for what had happened to me. I also feared that if I did tell someone they would have me locked up or judge me or somehow make it all worse. So I just stayed deep within myself and protected myself.
This is where I started to learn to love myself. Very very slowly, I started to appreciate that all the answers I needed were within me.
I remember the first day I laughed a genuine laugh. I had this wonderful girlfriend in Shanghai. I am going to call her Francis (not her real name). Francis didn’t know about my involvement with the cult but she knew about the infidelity. She knew I was suffering but she thought it was only because of the infidelity.
She was very sweet to me. She’d phone me and say she was coming round and taking me out. We’d go to clothes shops and cafes and various places around Shanghai.
I don’t know why so many incredible people appeared in my life but they did. And she was definitely one of the shining lights in my life.
Francis was a very funny woman. An Aussie by birth, she could do excellent impersonations and accents. One day she told some joke and I heard this noise which was coming from my throat and out of my mouth. It sounded sort of like a laugh. I asked Francis “did I just laugh?”
She put her arms around me, and said “yes my friend you did! You’re going to be fine!” I think I cried as she held me and then we did what two women who have mild caffeine addictions do - headed out the door to our fav café. So normal, so real.
I could laugh! I could spontaneously laugh! Oh wow! A break-through!
afaceinthecrowd
Gold Meritorious Patron
Re: An organic story
IMO, that's the only way to write an Scn Story...Ya just start somewhere, anywhere, and go forward...always forward...and write your way out of what I call "The Box".
It's kinda like Chinese Handcuffs when we were kids...you can't fight your way out...ya just gatta start somewhere and keep trying out stuff and see what happens.
Like ridin' a bronc...ya can read what others say about it and how to do it, watch a video, think about it and plan the whole thing out in your mind but, you'll never ride one, know or learn what it's like until climb in the chute, mount up, grab a hold and say, "Let 'er Buck!"
Face
IMO, that's the only way to write an Scn Story...Ya just start somewhere, anywhere, and go forward...always forward...and write your way out of what I call "The Box".
It's kinda like Chinese Handcuffs when we were kids...you can't fight your way out...ya just gatta start somewhere and keep trying out stuff and see what happens.
Like ridin' a bronc...ya can read what others say about it and how to do it, watch a video, think about it and plan the whole thing out in your mind but, you'll never ride one, know or learn what it's like until climb in the chute, mount up, grab a hold and say, "Let 'er Buck!"
Face
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sallydannce
Gold Meritorious Patron
The Masters start appearing
At this stage, I was very ashamed about having been in scientology and for reasons which now really don’t make sense to me, I never told Francis about my involvement. I will one day.
One day she said she had something she wanted to tell me. We were sitting in her apartment sipping tea I think. She quietly told me she had been heavily addicted to drugs. She told me of the hell she went through to get off them and re-build her life. She spoke of her emotions, her regrets and her wonder about her new life. She told me what she had learned from that experience. Francis was so wise! So incredibly wise! A very beautiful wise woman – inside and out.
This was probably the first time I recognised I had been addicted to the cult. What she told me, though her battle had been with drugs, was so similar to what I was going through.
Francis was a beautiful warm loving teacher for me.
The teacher will appear when the student is ready became the theme of my life. I didn’t see that at the time, but looking back, teachers kept gently entering my life.
I did not seek during this time in my life. There wasn’t enough energy for such pursuits. But I was offered some deep lessons, which I did absorb.
I went up to Beijing with some of the visiting guests. The pilot was a kiwi working for China Air! I remember that! We had a very soft landing in Beijing in his capable hands.
I stood on the Great Wall, in my fog. I’m gonna go back one day and stand on it, awake! I saw ancient temples and wandered around vast ancient gardens. In a fog! I will go back one day and see it all again - through my own eyes.
It was in Beijing that I was given the love of a Master which gave me the hope that I could make it back home to myself. This was a pivotal point in my journey…
All the traipsing around being a tourist wiped me out. I could barely walk by the time we got to Tiananmen Square late one morning.
It was decided I needed a doctor. Great! We didn’t know where to find a doctor and what kind of doctor and how was I going to explain to a doctor what was going on with me and…whew. Too much.
And like magic, there was this Chinese medicine clinic right in front of us.
There was a Chinese medicine man in that clinic that changed the course of my journey. I can never repay him for what he gave me that day. I can merely love him.
I see his eyes as I write this. They are the eyes of love, the eyes of healing, of peace, of harmony, of pure wisdom.
I was about to sit before a true Master.
More soon…
At this stage, I was very ashamed about having been in scientology and for reasons which now really don’t make sense to me, I never told Francis about my involvement. I will one day.
One day she said she had something she wanted to tell me. We were sitting in her apartment sipping tea I think. She quietly told me she had been heavily addicted to drugs. She told me of the hell she went through to get off them and re-build her life. She spoke of her emotions, her regrets and her wonder about her new life. She told me what she had learned from that experience. Francis was so wise! So incredibly wise! A very beautiful wise woman – inside and out.
This was probably the first time I recognised I had been addicted to the cult. What she told me, though her battle had been with drugs, was so similar to what I was going through.
Francis was a beautiful warm loving teacher for me.
The teacher will appear when the student is ready became the theme of my life. I didn’t see that at the time, but looking back, teachers kept gently entering my life.
I did not seek during this time in my life. There wasn’t enough energy for such pursuits. But I was offered some deep lessons, which I did absorb.
I went up to Beijing with some of the visiting guests. The pilot was a kiwi working for China Air! I remember that! We had a very soft landing in Beijing in his capable hands.
I stood on the Great Wall, in my fog. I’m gonna go back one day and stand on it, awake! I saw ancient temples and wandered around vast ancient gardens. In a fog! I will go back one day and see it all again - through my own eyes.
It was in Beijing that I was given the love of a Master which gave me the hope that I could make it back home to myself. This was a pivotal point in my journey…
All the traipsing around being a tourist wiped me out. I could barely walk by the time we got to Tiananmen Square late one morning.
It was decided I needed a doctor. Great! We didn’t know where to find a doctor and what kind of doctor and how was I going to explain to a doctor what was going on with me and…whew. Too much.
And like magic, there was this Chinese medicine clinic right in front of us.
There was a Chinese medicine man in that clinic that changed the course of my journey. I can never repay him for what he gave me that day. I can merely love him.
I see his eyes as I write this. They are the eyes of love, the eyes of healing, of peace, of harmony, of pure wisdom.
I was about to sit before a true Master.
More soon…
Panda Termint
Cabal Of One
I can hardly wait... but I will.
EP - Ethics Particle
Gold Meritorious Patron
I can hardly wait... but I will.
Same here.
Opter
here too! We also serve who only sit as weights!
Love ya, Sallydance!
EP
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