I always felt things weren’t right but it took me nearly forty years to work out what was going on. Systematic mind control and the absence of Love throughout the formative years can anaesthetize a being long into adulthood. Sometimes for a whole lifetime. But at last I was roused and began to see my childhood for what it really was, and to understand the patterns, cycles, compulsions and characters that have clouded my life as a consequence.
It was a painful relief to start to make sense of the sinister truths that lurked beneath our ‘perfect’ and privileged family front. My ‘normality’ was actually the stuff of dark movies and psychological thrillers: Covert, calculated crazy-making and premeditated puppetry. Outright death-threats. Hollow suicide threats. Circumstances specifically designed to insidiously crush the Spirit. Deliberate and pervasive distortion of reality. Extreme manipulation and deception. Hidden crimes against humanity at a domestic level, perpetrated by the secret enemies of Love and self esteem.
I awakened to the fact that I come from a long line of devils, dysfunction, dependency, drama, delusion, damage and denial. A family tree rooted in Love-Fraud: No branch untainted. Perfect matches facilitated by the most degenerate laws of attraction.
And family history keeps repeating itself, of course. Because that’s how this system works, so long as the Pawns remain unconscious. Round-and-around in circles the generational puppets blindly go; dizzy, drained and desperate. While the familial Puppet Masters effortlessly keep pulling the proverbial strings and spinning the metaphorical carousel.
And if a pawn starts to become conscious. If their Spirit fights back… any sign of sound emotional health and… they’re just crazy. Completely Fucking Nuts. Of course. Scapegoat is my middle name. Neurotic is my first. Oh, and I also have Aspergers. Only I don’t.
My earliest conditioning was at the hands of ‘The Devious’ (Father) and ‘The Dependent’ (Mother). They wore masks of respectability and saintliness, and proclaimed ‘Love’ for their offspring. Actions didn’t match words though and my earliest childhood memories are of living with, and hiding, an intense and perpetual inner pain; I later realised that this crushing ‘pain’ was the feeling of shame.
So, because ‘The Devil-In-Disguise’ and ‘The Delusional’ were my programmers, I became easy prey for society’s predators. A magnet for the greatest of actors and orators; hardwired to accept covert abuse, faux care and incongruity. Unwittingly drawn to the familiarity of the masquerade. Craving Love but not knowing what Love is, so searching for it in all the wrong places and saturating myself with yet more shame in the process. My life was totally toxic and confusing; my consciousness knew not why, and I had been perfectly trained to blame myself for everything anyway.
Then, I was ‘Love-Bombed’ like never before. Selected as the target of sustained quick-fire idealisation so invasive and forceful that I felt afraid rather than flattered. This time, neither my conditioning, nor my self-destructive cravings could overrule my intuition. This time, I resisted the fast and furious love story being imposed on me and paid attention to the inconvenient discrepancies. This time, I looked deeper. Somehow I knew my life depended on it. And this time, I woke up to the existence of manufactured identities, and to the interplay between predator and unsuspecting prey prevalent in the everyday under the guise of love and romance. It was a traumatic truth to learn but it brought clarity to my whole life. It was the ultimate wake-up call.
With this new-found awareness, however, came fear. Seeing behind masks can be scary and my shattered world became a frightening place. I couldn’t live like that. I knew I must remove myself from the irreconcilable circumstances and illusionary beings that engulfed me. And that in order to empower my self, I had to embrace and re-frame darkness, from a distance, as the greatest teacher I have ever known.
So, I moved countries as fast as I could. My Spirit went into autopilot. What transpired was not so much a plan requiring mental effort but a feeling that something higher was pulling me towards the light. I dealt with the practicalities at a basic level but essentially, I let go. I sat in the passenger seat of a vehicle fuelled by faith and my journey become easier. I ventured into the unknown without hesitation or question. I didn’t consult logic; I’ve learnt (s)he is a control freak with an agenda and cannot be trusted.
Everything fell into place and on the 21st August 2015, I arrived in Florence with my seven year old child. We had driven for five days through four countries. I have no conscious idea why Florence was the destination. It is not a place I have known before in this lifetime. Somehow we just arrived.
I told only three people that we were leaving ‘home’; there were no goodbyes. I cut all ties knowing that this was the right thing to do. I hoped to be able to disappear in order to find peace and feel safe. Knowing not a soul, we started our adventure in this foreign but somehow familiar city.
August 22nd 2015
“The apartment feels very dark and heavy. I don’t like it. Shit. I feel like I want to go home. Desperately. But I have no idea where home is. I keep telling ‘T’ that home is wherever we are together but I feel terrible at the moment.”
… I remember writing this through uncontrollable tears. I had never felt so alone. As ever, I downplayed the intensity of my feelings even to myself in my journal.
August 23rd 2015
“Yesterday I was really panicking that I’d made a mistake. Today I feel that we just need to make the best and the most of this. One day at a time. Make friends, see where it all leads… We have absolutely nothing to lose… Today I picked up an envelope from the side of the road. I nearly didn’t. It was addressed to: ‘To You, Whoever you are’…. Inside was a beautiful print entitled ‘Arriving’. What an incredible thing to find, how uncanny. I shall write to the artist. Things are going to be ok.”
In April 2016, feeling more settled, I wrote to the artist:
“My story is a long one!… In a nutshell, I came to Florence with my child to escape toxicity and disorder in my life. Highly abusive family members and others. I tried to disappear as far as possible in order to build a healthy life, break cycles and regain some peace of mind.
When I found your envelope, we had very recently ‘arrived’ in Florence and although I knew without a doubt that I had done the right thing in coming here, I was feeling very ‘wobbly’… I had taken my child and myself away from everything and everyone we had ever known. And almost no one even knew… And there was no going back…
So, when we found your envelope, we had a huge amount of building and discovering and unlearning to do… Finding your envelope with your beautiful print entitled ‘Arriving’ was the most incredible sign of reassurance and comfort that I could have wished for that I had made the right decisions to be here. It truly was a sign from the Universe that everything was going to be ok. I thank you with all my heart for giving me exactly the right sign at exactly the right moment.”
The artist replied:
“Your story You shared with me is really, really touching, it brought tears in my eyes. I never could have imagined that my small picture could play a part in such a big story.
Last summer my friend questioned many times if I have brains at all, with my financial situation being very bad, and in that situation I’m leaving around my artwork for free (she compared this project that it’s like scattering money around), not to mention the heavy costs of expensive paper and inks. She’s not an artist or doesn’t even have any art hobby (going to galleries etc.), so I can sort of understand her wondering my doings – and also I have sometimes doubted, if I’m totally fool with this project.
But not everything is measured with money/costs/financial benefits, and the “reward” of doing these projects can be much bigger than anything that you could ever buy with money. Your story is a good reminder of this.
Your story and others like it make this project more valuable to me and they give more value to me than any art purchases or exhibition exposures could ever give. I’ve always said that the artwork is finished and found its reason to exist, when it gets to be someone’s life in someone’s home. But in this case, it’s a question of something bigger: for me Your story is a good reminder, that there are still strong and independent people out there, people who can make difficult choices and who can change the course of their life.
So thank You for sharing Your story with me.”
With this snippet of my story, I hope to show that human life is seldom what it might seem. The surface is often an illusion manufactured by those beings who seek to rob us of genuine freewill. Most people never look below the surface and that is the big problem; at an individual and at a societal level.
My childhood had a rosy veneer. Wealthy, glamorous, educated, influential: My family was a picture-perfect house of cards. Apparently, my sinister Love Scammer was a child-adoring, saintly pillar-of-the-community. And a pathological liar with a well hidden trail of destruction and devastation behind him.
On the surface, my self-imposed exile looks like a choice. Yes, but there was no choice. Once you’ve awoken to the mirage, unless you compromise – or sell – your soul, there’s no going back to the place you once called “home”. Exile becomes an absolute necessity in order to avoid harm at the deepest levels. You must leave a toxic environment to grow.
On the surface, it seems that I have lost almost everything and superficially, that’s true. The deeper reality, however, is that there is no real loss. By journeying away from almost all and everything I have ever known, I have found my way towards truth, freedom and authenticity. I am finding the true Self that I was never previously allowed to be and I have discovered a Love of Self that I was not previously permitted to have. Through my loss I have begun to re-gain everything. I aspire to completely losing my conditioned mind in order to come to my true senses.
With my story I hope to demonstrate how everything is connected, and ultimately connected to Love. How human behaviour (for the non-pathologically disordered, ) is never random or coincidental but a direct and predictable consequence of the foundation programmes that were downloaded into our subconscious by our primary caregivers. That the patterns of our lives are directly attributable to the installation, or not, of Real Love in our formative years. It’s as simple as that. Genuine Love is always the answer. Absence of Love is always the problem: There are no other remedies or explanations.
And Synchronicity isn’t random or coincidental either. Synchronicty too is tied in with Love. Synchronicity is the Universe guiding you. Showing you Love. Helping you grow. There is nothing coincidental about synchronicities. Nothing is random. Be observant and open to the messages and signs that you receive and to the people that you meet. The Universe is on your side, even the dark stuff is sent to help you. Pay attention.