Repressed Memories of Sexual Abuse Part 9 – Am I Used to Being Abused?

Hello blockchain, thank you blockchain!

You've got no idea how much this project means to me. If it wasn't for the blockchain I would have never felt secure to come out of the closet. Believe it or not, Hive is undividable connected to my healing process. I am grateful for all of your encouraging comments along the way, the attention I received and the loving support that I truly felt. There are so many things I wanna tell you. I really don’t know where to begin. But let's start with the story that I am the most scared sharing. About the way I often reacted to abusive behaviour. Oops, I did it again …

That said, on we go …

One of my very last posts from June last year says that I would be offline during summertime. Little did I know that it would take me much longer to come back to you guys since I was just entering a very new circle of experiences, memories, and mindblowing developments. Throughout the summer I worked at a boat rental, starting at 8:30 in the morning ending between 10:00 and 12:00 pm. I loved the job, took on lots of responsibilities and made my way into the owner's heart. He started hitting on me, I didn't take him seriously.

He was living with someone else, is much older than me but most of all we were like different life forms from diverse planets and I was still focussing on myself and not at all interested in any kind of romance. I felt flattered and liked the attention, to me, however, it was simply a joke.

Until he saved my life.

Never before have I reacted allergically to a wasp sting. Last summer I did. And I didn't even notice. I felt strange and couldn't explain what was going on until he finally realized that my life was in danger and urged me into his car. While we were driving to the hospital, my syndromes drastically developed. My lips, nose, and ears were swollen, red spots covered the entirety of my skin, my voice was scratchy and the swelling in my throat made it harder and harder to breathe. My body was burning from the outside, while inside I was freezing. He constantly asked questions to keep me conscious. It was like speed dating. Never have I answered so many questions about my life in such a short amount of time. At the hospital, we had to wait. I could see thoughts rapidly running behind his nervous eyes. I watched his brain computing while my consciousness sank deeper and deeper into a daze.
At one point he took my hand, placed it on his chest and moved my fingers over something hard underneath his skin.

"This device records the activity of my heart. I got it when I almost died from a stroke."

I couldn't answer anymore. I looked at him, faced with the idea of dying this moment and he immediately jumped up and started yelling around. "I am with the woman who got stung by a wasp and you will take care of her RIGHT NOW!"

And they did.

Quickly I was handed an antidote, they laid me down in a bed where I could wait for the syndromes to subside. Easy as that. Because he said so. I did not fall in love with him, my inner child, however, started attaching us to him.

My inner child had always been waiting for someone to save my life. And there he finally was.

The threat of death connected me to emotions back then when I was being tortured as a child. I was triggered and his caring response triggered me even more. There he finally was: My savior.

I uber-dissociated. Instead of dissociating for just a few hours, or in worst cases two days as I am used to, I started dissociating for almost 4 months. I kind of erased my whole identity for only one new goal: All for him. Whatever the case. Now he was my master. Like back then when I was a child and handed over to someone to fulfill their every wish. He completely reenacted the whole game. Like my abusers, he went shopping with me, bought me gifts, we had sex, he manipulated me and kept reminding me of my flaws.

In the meantime, his initial spouse left him and he started a war with her, a strange boat accident happened in which a child and his father almost got killed, he kept lying about all these things, I got dragged into criminal cases without giving consent. I felt less and less power, more and more manipulated. Until I couldn't take it anymore. I quit the job and told him to stay away.

I started working for another company but after only one week in, the owner of this firm also started hitting on me. More than inappropriate. Like when I asked if I could open a window he answered:

"Have you just asked if you could open up your bra?" Stuff like that. On Christmas eve I decided that I couldn't take it anymore. I wondered whether I could ever have a normal job without some mighty individual trying to take advantage of me sexually. I got more than sad about the idea that somehow this was still 'my role'. What is it with me? What the f'in f is wrong with me?

I got myself a sicknote, quit the freakin' job and cried myself to sleep for many nights until the holy date of 1/20/2020.

That's when the biggest shift happened …




In my next post, I am going to tell you how right now the powers are shifting in Germany and all around this beautiful planet. Stay tuned to read some good news next time!

1.jpgI was shivering while I called the hotline. Because I know my abusers are powerful.
… but so are we, the people!2.jpg

And there was more! He even told me that in 2019 the German government confirmed that ritual abuse is indeed a fact and no conspiracy theory and that those who fought for it are being funded and offering support.


Another Preview:

I am also going to share a video with you as evidence that Patch Adams is doing some pretty suspicious and weird stuff to kids.

Bildschirmfoto 20200328 um 17.19.01.png


Repressed Memories of Sexual Abuse Part I
Repressed Memories of Sexual Abuse Part II – The Bad Nun & The Wewelsburg
Repressed Memories of Sexual Abuse Part III – The Politician Who Sued Me
Repressed Memories of Sexual Abuse Part IV – Entering The Void
Repressed Memories of Sexual Abuse Part V – I'm Not Who I Was
Repressed Memories of Sexual Abuse Part VI – Abracadabra, Trauma and Drama
Clowns, a Giant Penis, and the Finder Cult – Part 7 of Repressed Memories of Abuse
Dealing With What They Call The Justice System – Repressed Memories of Abuse Part 8

also related:

MAJOR MISCONCEPTIONS – What You Purposely Don't Know About Sexual Child Abuse And Its Consequences
How I Forgave That My Mother Kidnapped My Daughter
Privileged Child Abuse – Survivor of the Elite

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