FOR THE INTERNET

All-caps shouting to make sure I remember to write an update that sounds neutral enough to remain out of custody or institutional confinement.
In going over my history of the past 5 years, (which is when I departed my course of “normal”) where I seem to stumble on my psychosis / "difficulty integrating reality" front is around my family and whether or not there were astral beatings of my child or real beatings that were wizarded away on the linear timeline, like a Whole Helluva lot of people support me on, but is still criteria-sounding to lump it together with all the other bizarreness of my life. I mostly just don't go there.

The controversy started in June 2007, when I was set-up for “initiation” along my shaman path that I had been studying peripherally for about 8 years before that. I had my Venice-Beach UCLA experience, didn’t integrate reality as well as hoped-for and I had to retreat to the forest for a few months, then it re-started in December 2007, when I seemingly was *discovered* along psychic circuits/astral planes. Globally, telepathy is a viable method of communication that I understand to be commonly experienced by many people that I’ve encountered face-to-face and remotely, in my years of clairvoyant experience. There are libraries of documentation about other people‘s psychic experiences throughout history, but this subject has a vortex of controversy around its reliability~experts will say that telepathy absolutely exists but it doesn't meet full expectations. Somewhere along the line, "believing in psychic phenomena," became a criterion in someone's toolbox for behavior control by psychiatrically labelling and treating anyone speaking about psychic phenomena that others wanted suppressed.

My psychic gifts and impressive education earned me a lot of attention in January 2008, as I had been primed for, when I lived in Los Angeles the previous Summer, meeting Hollywood people, talking about making my life story into a movie. At that point, I had crashed at the live-in care giving job I had because astral-planing all day wasn’t conducive to work and Hollywood seemed like a better investment of my time, so I was staying at my mom‘s house, expecting to be picked up, as I heard is how Starlets are discovered.

A few weeks of getting around the Hollywood scene, talking about opportunities for my writing and healing gifts and such, eventually, word escalated to election matters and “the truth” seemed a dangerous and powerful tool. In my head/sphere, I heard people of the Democratic party ask if voters were more likely to choose Barack or Hillary. I answered, with my seemingly unique and attention-worthy ability to sift through the consciousness and pool everything I know and answer questions with a high amount of clarity. So, Intelligence dropped a scenario at my mom’s house, causing me to leave in a huff and sleep in my car and head to a friend’s house where I could be apprised of the situation in politics.

My family situation was already tense, as my older daughter, then 15, was kinda doing the Cinderella thing, step-mothering my younger, then 4 year-old. When the “welcome to the real-world, Neo” bomb got dropped on me in November/December, before I got into the public spotlight, I was kinda Divinely told that I would lose my child and, given that, how should she go that would be most painless. Less creative and determined as I later demonstrated, I gave them an answer: car accident.

When my family heard me answer this question, from “the powers that be” that were on me early, I suppose, they all freaked out. That was Christmas 2007. That incubated for about a month and then, my family seemed to go insanely violent, according to clairvoyant material I was picking up, in January of 2008. I have tried so hard to manage an impossible family disaster that might have been, and in retrospect totally looks like, a government hijack to force me into homelessness and “criteria” so that if I didn’t stand up to initiation on Washington levels, they would have a thumb over me (I’m hearing in plane English, now, to my chagrin, though I sorta had put that together before).

My psychic gifts were valuable, politically, but I was very unpredictable. When everyone was asking questions, psychically, regardless of the source, (which can be very difficult to ascertain in the midst of dozens and thousands of astral bodies and ethereal thoughts flying by) if I could answer, I would. I loved it and leaked all kinds of data that the powers that be would rather not be out there. See my “258” material somewhere on the web, hopefully, for more info on that time in my life. The story of the 3 "psychiatric" years since then have been a tug of war between my freewill and their interests to get me to use my gifts for them. I also have this not-self sense of dutifully speaking for the people that are on the opposite side of their missions, as I have such channeling abilities sometimes.

In playing War Games in February of 2008, I admit that I got totally carried away in my then-new access to vocal power that I got from all the questions answered, proving some divinity that was being proposed from the big religious people into numbers and other prophetic shit. (And leave the “hyper-religiosity” criteria at the door. If this weren’t an issue in my life, I wouldn’t be in all of these cosmically tremendous boats that rock religious and political people near and far.

I posted a CV/resume supplement to facebook, recently, that chronicles all the little projects I have been working on, vocationally since 2006, most of which got lumped under “consulting” for scaadium.com. I’m impressed by myself. I actually had very little unemployed time. I got back on the horse immediately every time and have a million and a half words to show for all the time in between earning dollars that I was storing up words for dollars later. Some periods were distinct as “working on film” or “political demonstration” or both. I’m a workaholic, whatever my credit and bank balance. I have a chip on my shoulder about how my family members have derided me on not earning money, but have watched the impossible philosophy and shamanism to come out of what I have trained for. Unfortunately, some of the time is also written-off to “institutional and correction time for political demonstrations“. What’s the dollar-per-word value of the penciled sheets of Journal on the backs of inmate request forms and yellow pads from December 2009 to February 2010 that led me completely off my rocker in mid-February, just as I landed the Portland Community College job that delayed an assault charge?

Yes, a frickin’ assault charge. Either I have diagnosable SSI-able psychotic spectrum disorder NOS and hallucinated that my ex-husband abused my children to the fullest extent and I had to save them to the best of my ability, after calls to police and child protective services were unsatisfactory, or I am living through tremendous, maddening injustice. Did someone just make me believe that he did unfathomable things to them, as demons do to schizophrenics and psychologic operations agents do to 'government shut-downs'? At any rate, I am no longer a danger to the man I married in 2002, but that has been part of the history that people should know, I suppose. I am compartmentalizing everything I know into “the part my life that has been validated to be consistent from the psychic realm, seamlessly to the physical plane” (which must not pose an apparent threat to National Security or the future of someone else‘s choosing) and the rest of reality, as “the parts of my life that are too controversial to allow people to speak about them”.

To cope, I think about the Serenity Prayer a fair amount: God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage (strength) to change the things I can and [I especially reinforce the part about] the Wisdom to know the difference between that which I can and cannot change, while sucking shit on not seeing my child for almost two years because she was fathered by a man who either did impossibly terrible things of his own freewill or because I got into levels of politics that endangered her to the level of her father being pawn-able (people channeling into his body to cause him to beat my child) or both and I have to just pretend that I was delusional or something, because that is the only way I have a future of seeing my daughter and not dying of helplessness? It’s disturbing how dissociated I have to be to even partially integrate into this reality that is diagnosing me as psychotic and letting him go about his business. I like to think that I’m working towards “the hope of a future of our own choosing”, per the daily affirmation pledge that we read at the Portland Oregon State Hospital community meeting. The actual future might be too much to ask for, but we all deserve the hope of the future of our choosing.

So, the update for how I am: I bike around a little every day, but have been generally slacking in my exercise routine. I eat really well, after eating hospital food for 4 months. Being institutionalized to a degree, sucks. I laugh at the low level of activity I got used to. Knowing myself, I imagine a flurry of goal-directed activity happening soon enough. But for the moment, I have probation and other things holding me back from ambitious career-level work. In the meantime, I’m trying to manage the fall out of not shutting up and not following the rules on the Bilderberg level, how it feels for my family that I have been suicidal, coping with the lost time of Oregon’s law on “right to die” applying only to certain illnesses and learning the 180 day hard-way not to try to die. It was a longer ‘sentence’ than my stolen limousine charge got me!

I appreciate the love and support that I have gotten from people. I wish I had more energy to be more of a presence as a friend to people. I have analyzed my flaws. I spread myself exceedingly thin, trying to accomplish everything. Each of the million items in my life gets too little attention.