I’m not who I was – Repressed memories of abuse part V

I am not who I was.

I am who I become.

I become who I am.


In the first four parts I told about how I suddenly started remembering pictures from my childhood. After writing it down I ran away from steemit. First, there was just a hole. A big black nothing. I felt like being cut from a stream, a stream of information. But I didn’t mind too much. Because I started working on something else: Positive Affirmations & Manifestations.

It was perfectly normal. There was this stream flooding me, I worked with it, contemplated and started creating something new. That’s law no 5, rhythm.
(the seven hermetic principles)

I needed a new home at the time so I manifested a house with a garden for a less than affordable rent. That worked out easily. I manifested more. Money, people, occasions, things I needed. It worked perfectly all the time. All my wishes fulfilled themselves like that. I met someone who read from my hand. He said: “You’ve seen more than one can take. But it seems your life is getting better and better. 7 years of hell will end soon.” He was accurate.

I met a guy.
That made me wonder.
A lot.
Was it the universe sending him or someone else?

He was either a honeypot or my soulmate or just your random narcissist.
I fell in love the minute we started talking. I could never have had this chat with anybody else on the planet. He seemed to know me. He said it.

“as if we knew each other for thousands of years.”

… or as if he was an agent.

And he fitted all my plans so well. Because I wanted to have this video channel. Not only did he tell me that this is what he wanted to do for 10 years now, he was perfect for the job. He’s a photographer, he did lightings for Holly- Pedowood Productions. He knew everything about shooting beautiful pictures plus he told me he was never going to work for those people again (one of many lies that he told about himself) and so the journey began.

Wewelsburg [ˈveːvl̩sbʊɐ̯k], here we go again!

I always wanted to visit the Externsteine. Oh, boy, he said:

”no way, that’s where I always wanted to go.”


And then he told me all the things I wanted to hear. Of course, he had the same questions concerning history I had. I never met someone like him before. I felt like I had been missing him for thousands and thousands of years. Conveniently the Wewelsburg from my childhood memories was close by those rocks. Two birds with one stone. So, us two love birds made our way to the rocks. We shot amazing footage and mostly, we had a wonderful time. But clouds started making its way above our heads, forming little thunderstorms, providing for what was yet to come.
Because sometimes he became someone else. Someone angry. It always happened rapidly. And for whatever reason whenever this occurred it would always interfere with our shootings. And holy mother, was he angry. He scared me. I didn’t get it. We knew each other for two months, I had never seen someone losing his face that quickly.
There were other moments where I thought he’d behave like someone else. Sometimes he would even look totally different. Not just like a weird expression, really like a completely other person for hours. I even thought the color of his eyes and hair would change then.
Worse: He forgot a lot. Not just random stuff like where he put his keys, he forgot complete incidents and things we had agreed upon. And what he would do a lot was running away from a scene or not even coming to an arranged shooting. He sabotaged the work he said he always wanted to do.

He made me wonder.
A lot.
I told myself, it’s his trauma.
I was stupid.
I thought I could fix him.

We went to the Wewelsburg and shot scenes there as well. I got there with an intention. I remembered two incidents that I wanted to find out more about. It’s these:

I’m sleeping at the Wewelsburg. Someone wakes me up. A thin curtain of light coming from the window cuts the room. I see wooden beds. The others are sleeping. A young man I trust tells me that we do a night walk.

but what about the others?

I ask.

You are special, mayb.

We walk down a small path, next to the castle leading down to a crossroad with a bridge over a small stream, meadows and trees surrounding the scene. There’s another man. I’m walking between them, holding their hands. Trees above us, the stream right next to us, there are torches. People are walking towards us. I feel like I am late for something. Something seems to be over. There was a party or something else that adults do. I sleepwalk. Nothing’s familiar, nothing makes sense to me. We’re crossing a fire. We take a break. I think at this point they drug me. That’s all.

Another scene I remember and that I want to find out more about is this:

I am with a group of adults. We’re walking towards a wooden door. They are wearing robes. I remember those to be brown but it’s dark and it’s dreamlike again. One of them is really big. I think his hair is red and he’s got a pale skin. He’s unlike any other adult I’ve ever seen and he scares me. I don’t want to go through this door. There are men and women but nobody’s taking care of me. I am just there. After the door opens – the weird huge one opens it and ducks down to pass it – my memory subsides.


My “partner” wanted to assist me with that and he himself wanted to find out more about the history of the Wewelsburg & the Occult. It was a stirring day. We found the path down the hill, we found the bridge, the stream, it was all there. Everything looked slightly different. It was the daytime and this day was 30 years later. But I knew we were right. Even though there was so much noise in my head. We followed this path, next to the stream to the place where I think I was drugged. It was still an active fire place, burned wood and ashes all over the place. We walked further and came to a field with head high weeds. I couldn’t go further. First, I thought it’s the meadow, later I felt that it was something else, much later I knew it was.

When we left this place and came back to the road, there was this guy standing around with a bike, watching us, speaking to his phone.

To be continued …

But first, dance!


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