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As we grew up, from the age of 2 onward, we were sent to a Lutheran Sunday School and church and sang in the choir regularly. We learned everything that any other child learned at that church, and almost got perfect attendance certificates. This continued throughout high school. At one point we even thought about becoming a Lutheran nun. I believe the strong feelings Sharon had to this church were her defense and denial of the reality of our lives. Even though we were lucky to be around warm caring people, we never saw ourselves as fitting in. We were like the poor relations, who didn't have money to join into most activities. It didn't free us mentally from what we were told by those who persecuted us. But we did not have an active memory of the satanic ritual abuse that was still going on from our early childhood through our teens. It was buried from conscious memory.
During the time we were abused so horribly, we were repeatedly told we were evil, that only Satan could love us. There were many rituals in which we were dedicated to Satan, or even married to him. Some rituals suggested implanting seeds of the dark angels, or demons, within us, to be called upon later to grow and turn our hearts against good and God. Special personalities were created to deal with this abuse. They endured being tortured, beaten, cut, branded, and in some cases mutilated as well.
During nursing school we started looking for a religion that we felt would meet our feeling of wanting to belong, to feel a part of something, to feel loved. One of our early therapists took our Pentacostal beliefs that we acquired during nursing school and our memories of being "seeded" with "demon seeds" that would grow later in our life and keep us under Satan's control, and used them diabolically against us. She convinced us we were possessed by a demon, and tried to cast out the demon by making us vomit and cough for an eternity. Later it took months - almost a year - for psychiatrists and therapists to unravel this craziness for us. Sometimes, even now, we wonder about it.
As we were in therapy, later, it took a wonderful minister, whom we dearly love, to help us see that we had not done anything wrong, because we were in a life or death situation, and coerced by those around us-who were evil. She even helped us to see that in Jesus' suffering in Gethsemane, he was bearing all the pain for all the sins of the past, and future, knowing even then, what those sins would be for each of us. And that what we had done to survive had already been forgiven!
What a wonderful feeling to have! To finally be free from the fear that we were doomed to live in the ranks of the evil ones! And that God still loved us! It was a wonderful experience to feel loved for who we were.
In therapy we came to learn we had been hypnotized, brainwashed, drugged, and convinced of some things that were not possibly true. Being raped by a demon is not reality. Being drugged, hypnotized, and under the suggestion while someone dressed all in black rapes you is a reality, that was inseparable to a small child, who could not see the reality from the fear of the suggestion they planted in her mind. This is the kind of mind control they used. "We'll get the demon back again!" Fear, intimidation, humiliation, degradation and depersonalization were their tools in stock. They were very effective, especially when combined with alcohol and drugs.
While our mother was in the last five years of her life, she had 3 large strokes, and some small ones. They left her unable to communicate other than yes/no at first. This is when we told her that we remembered what happened and we forgave her. This was real, we truely forgave her. She had been brainwashed, hypnotized and drugged too. She was not responsible. She cried, saying, "I'm so sorry..." over and over. When it sank in that we said we forgave her- one of our child personalities came out and told her, and mom recognized the child's voice, and she said, 'Thank you..." over and over. We held her against us, and held out a bag of cotton candy. She stopped crying, and laughed, and started eating some. It was an old joke from childhood, when ever we went somewhere and had cotton candy, it dissappeared so fast--cus mom helped eat it, but was sneaking it!
We spent the time from then, till her death, watching her deal with memories that slowly came up for her, too. The one sustaining, uplifting, healing thing she had besides the love of her children, was her faith. It took us a year after her death to study with the help of Elders in the Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter Day Saints. We found there, what she had already known, and the source of her continued sanity and sustenance on a daily basis.
We were Baptized on May 18, 2003, by Bishop C,and confirmed the following Sunday by Bishop R. Both expressed how happy my mother was to be aware of this, and how it fulfilled one of her long time dreams. These were the Bishops who first knew my mother and knew her during her strokes and at death.
The longer we have belonged to the Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter Day Saints, the more firm and deeper rooted our belief in this being the true church of God become. The persecution, murder and segregation the early members of this Church suffered bear a strong witness that they truly believed in this Church and the Book of Mormon. I only hope we can show that strong a faith in adversity, if needed.
This is a painting done by Jillianne, for our littles. They felt they needed a special angel to guard them in the night so they could sleep without being taken away. This is what their idea of their warrior angel shold look like.
Sometimes it is very hard to feel that love, as we battle with the memories and the depression. At times we feel so alone, that even God seems lost to us. Yet, many times it is that simplistic childish faith, that one string to hold on to, each time. Sometimes the depression is so bad, it is hard to find a reason to go on. Even my cousin's reminding me that "Living, and living well, is the greatest revenge!"- sometimes needs a booster. The Church is very supportive, and going to church is a healing thing for us finally. So we go on, knowing that thoughts about harming us doesn't mean we have to do it. And those thoughts were put there by others, years ago, as punishment for breaking the silence.
Sometimes we are shakey holding this string, but we hold on, even by that thread, because we realize we are alive by God's design. As much as we may want to commit suicide, we know that we don't have to. That he has some purpose for us. The cult tried to kill us several times, but through the love of Jesus, we lived. God had a reason for that and we just have to wait until he lets us know. A few years before we were diagnosed, one of my cousins was intent on exposing our chief abuser, my uncle (her father). She wrote to her sister, who was going to discuss this with him. On the day planned, everyone else went to church, and my uncle stayed home. He suicided with a gunshot to the head. They tried to say he was so upset by being accused, that he took his life. We feel he was so afraid to have his wonderful personality destroyed, that he did that so he wouldn't have to answer for his part. So we hold on through family disowning us, broken relationships, friends who have fallen along the way, and financial difficulties, knowing that this incomprehensibly convoluted pathway to our future will end somewhere where He wants us to be.
What a wonderful feeling to have! To finally be free from the fear that we were doomed to live in the ranks of the evil ones! And that God still loved us!
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