A Case Of Possible Programming
I'm posting this matter in this sub-forum as it seems as much a spiritual matter as it is a social-psychological one. I think I've stumbled across the fringe of an engine of darkness, for lack of a better way of putting it.
I work in a rural setting about ninety miles outside of Washington, D.C., and really the whole 'why' of the place is to cater to people from that city and its suburbs who wish to get away from it all for a spell while bringing it with them. The people I work for are transplants from Rhode Island, though the wife is native to some moneyed, sandy enclave near the Florida/Georgia border that is a traditional haunt for spooky types. The wife (we'll call her 'Tova') is... she is something of a codex, or might be one. At a glance, she reads as boilerplate not-quite-functioning crazy, with all the ancillary chaos and noise. That's said objectively, has to be, as I've been charged with resurrecting her place of business which she ran into the ground because of whatever is wrong with her. This effort is still a work in progress, and it helps that she went back to Rhode Island, and now only shows up sporadically, account something in the building now makes her uncomfortable now [I}though she is not sure what[/i]. Her words, to her husband, and do keep those words in mind as you read this.
At the end of the day, sane is relative. In this country it seems to depend on the depth of one's budget, so I'd let all of it slide but for other things. It turns out Tova is heavily involved with some sort of twelve-step group for the children of abusive and/or alcoholic parents. When I first hired on, she sensed a lot going on within me, and she suggested I try this, as she felt it had helped her come a long way. Why not, right? So, she plied me with literature, and did a good job of walking the walk and talking the talk for some time... until the one morning three months ago when I was very much at the end of my tether, not really fit to work, and had come to a place where I could not talk to anyone, at all, even if I wanted to. It seemed safe to confide in her, look for some help, like talking to a sponsor. I confided in her. She mocked me. I mean, not even fed-up filth or fury mocking. She pursed her lips, lowered her voice, tucked her knees, waggled her hips and said "oh, poor ____, he feels sooooooo bad, he wants to die", and on like that. What made it worse was her eyes. I've never seen anything like them. Her irises, they're brown, but there is a thumbnail trimming of baby blue at the top of each one angled twenty degrees off center in the same direction. It was the perfect accent to the horrifying (un)reality of the moment, like My Life In Hell as a Steamboat Willie reel.
That f____ me up, to say the least, but I've somehow stayed with it because I want to help Tova's spouse. I also need the money. She fled, largely did not return. Me, in spite of my better judgement, I attended two of the meetings she had suggested. These take place in one of the aforementioned suburbs. They were welcoming, open. I wasn't, was very guarded, but I tried. Well, I tried until they read their creed aloud.
"I have not been subject to harassment by law enforcement."
That's a verbatim line. Granted, those subject to abuse throughout childhood are going to have issues with authority figures for manifold reasons, so doubtless it would come up...but why rub their face in it by telling them their wrong about it from square one? That's not how you help people. At the very least it's irresponsible. More understanding of why those words might be there was not provided until the second meeting I attended. It had a larger turn-out then the first, and it was different in that the gentleman who as proctoring the meeting was not proctoring it by the end of the night. That responsibility ended up the lap of a burly sort at the end of the table, Navy, and the way he told it, the Navy had spent an incredible amount of time, money, blood, sweat, and tears to get him out of his hole of darkness and violence, and it all started with one of these meetings. At least on that count he was telling the truth, as another Navy man sitting across from laughed, pointed, "Oh, yeaaahhh, I remember those meetings!!!".
Quite the story, all of it canned like tuna, especially inclusive of what was not being said, and the way he was trying to stare into me by the end of it, he knew that I knew. What sort of man does the Navy put so much effort into saving? Hm. So, I've not been back, and the next time Tova came down, I broached the matter of what it says in their creed. Her response was a repeated darty-eyed huhhhnh-I-don't-remember-them-saying-that in a light approximation of the mocking tone from earlier. No recollect in spite of being up to her armpits in it. I can't make this ___ up. It's not even funny. It's frightening. She's frightening, those eyes, and all the more because back home she volunteers on behalf of this outfit, and is permitted to go into psychiatric facilities and... proselytize? Yes, proselytize, she is permitted
to go into psychiatric facilities and proselytize with this nonsense. To my eyes and ears, it truly is nonsense as it has nothing to do with helping people get better, and everything to do with keeping people running in circles while they are boiled alive as they look for answers as to why their lives became an irrational nightmare of violence. Yes, an irrational nightmare of violence. That's it, I chose those words, because I've read them before in the context of there being a deliberate effort afoot to take life on the continent I dwell on to that very place, and keep it there, so as to feed dark entities. Sounds nutty, but from what I see and hear and read every day of my life, it is truth, and they're succeeding. I live in the United States of America, and here would could easily stop the filmstrip, but if you wish to know what that really means, where it is I think I'm going to end up with this, I recommend reading something called The Greenbaum Speech. Actually, read it, walk away, read it again tomorrow. It has to do with programming people, and I do believe Tova is programmed in such a manner, or at least something along those lines. I know very little of her background, but what I've pieced together from her words, she gets the thumbprint in the wax.
I apologize for being rambly. Here, I always stall. Just as well, as I'm off to work shortly, and I'll not be able to respond for some hours anyways. What do all of you think?