I haven't been posting much about my counseling sessions, because we have a confidentiality agreement in the support group and not much has been happening in my sessions with Patricia. It's not wasted time -- but it's not very productive either. We've been on a sort of plateau for a while now, for ( several reasons: )

So, last session, she told me that she wants to stop having sessions with me, at least for a while. And I had to agree that that was probably the right thing to do. She suggested that Ben and I meet with Richard and Virginia for couples counseling instead -- but I really don't like the mindset Virginia has about how wives should be. She's never rude or outwardly judgemental, but I get a very judgemental vibe from her sometimes. So I don't want to do that.

But I met with Lisa (another counselor in the same practice) for a theophostic session this week, and it was amazing. Actually it was far beyond amazing, but I can't think of a word emphatic enough. It was... deeply soul-cleansing.

I should explain what 'theophostic' is. The easiest explanation is that it's the Christian version of hypnotherapy -- instead of a human leading you into your subconscious, God does, with your full consent. Basically the counselor and I pray together, and then we ask God to take me to a memory that he wants to work with and heal. And he does.

( warning: some of this may be triggering for sexual abuse victims )

I began to feel an immense peace and a sweet lightness. I felt as if I was floating weightlessly, wrapped in a blanket of warm water. I felt this physically as well as with my spirit, and Lisa encouraged me to just rest in it. I saw God holding me in his lap, with my knees folded to my chest and his arms encircling me completely. I felt God's love, felt his presence! I don't think you can understand how amazing it is unless #1, you've experienced it and #2, physical affection means as much to you as it does to me. That's one of the reasons I've always had a hard time believing God loves me -- I need physical touch to feel loved.

I've felt it twice before. The first time was when I was on the brink of suicide because I could not climb out of the 'black hole of woe' that I lived in every day. That was shortly after I had begun to seek a friendship with God... it was by far my favorite experience. It felt like a waterfall of warm honey was flowing slowly over me, through me -- on the surface of my skin and in the core of my spirit. It meant so much to me, and that experience alone kept me going for a long time. The second was just a few months ago at church -- I was worshipping and I felt his presence, dancing with me. He was standing behind me with his arms wrapped around me. I tested it to see if I was just imagining it -- I switched rhythms and felt resistance, because he didn't change rhythms with me, so I delightedly went back, and danced with him.

Anyway, this time I sat there in pure comfort for I don't know how long, before slowly opening my eyes to look at Lisa, who was smiling at me. She told me to close my eyes again and ask God what he wanted me to know about that experience. So I did -- and he told me that I could feel his presence anytime I wanted, which confused me because I know I have wanted it many times and not had it. So I asked how, and he told me to take authority. I repeated this to Lisa, who told me to ask if there was more, so I did -- and he brought a verse of Psalms to my mind, "Enter into his presence with thanksgiving, and into his courts with praise." Lisa told me to ask again if there was more, and he told me to empty my mind -- not to pray for people or read the bible or pour out my heart, but just think about him and invite his presence (that other stuff is separate, at least at this point).

Then Lisa prayed a sealing prayer, and we hugged and I left. Exhausted, but peaceful and still light. So incredible.

I haven't been posting much about my counseling sessions, because we have a confidentiality agreement in the support group and not much has been happening in my sessions with Patricia. It's not wasted time -- but it's not very productive either. We've been on a sort of plateau for a while now, for ( several reasons: )

So, last session, she told me that she wants to stop having sessions with me, at least for a while. And I had to agree that that was probably the right thing to do. She suggested that Ben and I meet with Richard and Virginia for couples counseling instead -- but I really don't like the mindset Virginia has about how wives should be. She's never rude or outwardly judgemental, but I get a very judgemental vibe from her sometimes. So I don't want to do that.

But I met with Lisa (another counselor in the same practice) for a theophostic session this week, and it was amazing. Actually it was far beyond amazing, but I can't think of a word emphatic enough. It was... deeply soul-cleansing.

I should explain what 'theophostic' is. The easiest explanation is that it's the Christian version of hypnotherapy -- instead of a human leading you into your subconscious, God does, with your full consent. Basically the counselor and I pray together, and then we ask God to take me to a memory that he wants to work with and heal. And he does.

( warning: some of this may be triggering for sexual abuse victims )

I began to feel an immense peace and a sweet lightness. I felt as if I was floating weightlessly, wrapped in a blanket of warm water. I felt this physically as well as with my spirit, and Lisa encouraged me to just rest in it. I saw God holding me in his lap, with my knees folded to my chest and his arms encircling me completely. I felt God's love, felt his presence! I don't think you can understand how amazing it is unless #1, you've experienced it and #2, physical affection means as much to you as it does to me. That's one of the reasons I've always had a hard time believing God loves me -- I need physical touch to feel loved.

I've felt it twice before. The first time was when I was on the brink of suicide because I could not climb out of the 'black hole of woe' that I lived in every day. That was shortly after I had begun to seek a friendship with God... it was by far my favorite experience. It felt like a waterfall of warm honey was flowing slowly over me, through me -- on the surface of my skin and in the core of my spirit. It meant so much to me, and that experience alone kept me going for a long time. The second was just a few months ago at church -- I was worshipping and I felt his presence, dancing with me. He was standing behind me with his arms wrapped around me. I tested it to see if I was just imagining it -- I switched rhythms and felt resistance, because he didn't change rhythms with me, so I delightedly went back, and danced with him.

Anyway, this time I sat there in pure comfort for I don't know how long, before slowly opening my eyes to look at Lisa, who was smiling at me. She told me to close my eyes again and ask God what he wanted me to know about that experience. So I did -- and he told me that I could feel his presence anytime I wanted, which confused me because I know I have wanted it many times and not had it. So I asked how, and he told me to take authority. I repeated this to Lisa, who told me to ask if there was more, so I did -- and he brought a verse of Psalms to my mind, "Enter into his presence with thanksgiving, and into his courts with praise." Lisa told me to ask again if there was more, and he told me to empty my mind -- not to pray for people or read the bible or pour out my heart, but just think about him and invite his presence (that other stuff is separate, at least at this point).

Then Lisa prayed a sealing prayer, and we hugged and I left. Exhausted, but peaceful and still light. So incredible.

I haven't been posting much about my counseling sessions, because we have a confidentiality agreement in the support group and not much has been happening in my sessions with Patricia. It's not wasted time -- but it's not very productive either. We've been on a sort of plateau for a while now, for ( several reasons: )

So, last session, she told me that she wants to stop having sessions with me, at least for a while. And I had to agree that that was probably the right thing to do. She suggested that Ben and I meet with Richard and Virginia for couples counseling instead -- but I really don't like the mindset Virginia has about how wives should be. She's never rude or outwardly judgemental, but I get a very judgemental vibe from her sometimes. So I don't want to do that.

But I met with Lisa (another counselor in the same practice) for a theophostic session this week, and it was amazing. Actually it was far beyond amazing, but I can't think of a word emphatic enough. It was... deeply soul-cleansing.

I should explain what 'theophostic' is. The easiest explanation is that it's the Christian version of hypnotherapy -- instead of a human leading you into your subconscious, God does, with your full consent. Basically the counselor and I pray together, and then we ask God to take me to a memory that he wants to work with and heal. And he does.

( warning: some of this may be triggering for sexual abuse victims )

I began to feel an immense peace and a sweet lightness. I felt as if I was floating weightlessly, wrapped in a blanket of warm water. I felt this physically as well as with my spirit, and Lisa encouraged me to just rest in it. I saw God holding me in his lap, with my knees folded to my chest and his arms encircling me completely. I felt God's love, felt his presence! I don't think you can understand how amazing it is unless #1, you've experienced it and #2, physical affection means as much to you as it does to me. That's one of the reasons I've always had a hard time believing God loves me -- I need physical touch to feel loved.

I've felt it twice before. The first time was when I was on the brink of suicide because I could not climb out of the 'black hole of woe' that I lived in every day. That was shortly after I had begun to seek a friendship with God... it was by far my favorite experience. It felt like a waterfall of warm honey was flowing slowly over me, through me -- on the surface of my skin and in the core of my spirit. It meant so much to me, and that experience alone kept me going for a long time. The second was just a few months ago at church -- I was worshipping and I felt his presence, dancing with me. He was standing behind me with his arms wrapped around me. I tested it to see if I was just imagining it -- I switched rhythms and felt resistance, because he didn't change rhythms with me, so I delightedly went back, and danced with him.

Anyway, this time I sat there in pure comfort for I don't know how long, before slowly opening my eyes to look at Lisa, who was smiling at me. She told me to close my eyes again and ask God what he wanted me to know about that experience. So I did -- and he told me that I could feel his presence anytime I wanted, which confused me because I know I have wanted it many times and not had it. So I asked how, and he told me to take authority. I repeated this to Lisa, who told me to ask if there was more, so I did -- and he brought a verse of Psalms to my mind, "Enter into his presence with thanksgiving, and into his courts with praise." Lisa told me to ask again if there was more, and he told me to empty my mind -- not to pray for people or read the bible or pour out my heart, but just think about him and invite his presence (that other stuff is separate, at least at this point).

Then Lisa prayed a sealing prayer, and we hugged and I left. Exhausted, but peaceful and still light. So incredible.

Counseling this week was powerful, in a way that made me very uncomfortable. One of those "truths that you don't want to see" type things. So of course, I've been putting off writing it down... Bah.

I realized that I have idolized my intellect, used it as my identity and my protection. ( ... )

I don't know what to do. Patricia and I prayed, and I gave my intellect to God, but I'm still not sure what that means and it is making me very nervous. I don't want to have anything be more important to me than God, and I certainly don't want to continue to be trapped by fear of stupidity, but I'm just not sure how to change. Patricia was confident that God would show/tell me.

Counseling this week was powerful, in a way that made me very uncomfortable. One of those "truths that you don't want to see" type things. So of course, I've been putting off writing it down... Bah.

I realized that I have idolized my intellect, used it as my identity and my protection. ( ... )

I don't know what to do. Patricia and I prayed, and I gave my intellect to God, but I'm still not sure what that means and it is making me very nervous. I don't want to have anything be more important to me than God, and I certainly don't want to continue to be trapped by fear of stupidity, but I'm just not sure how to change. Patricia was confident that God would show/tell me.

When I said that my day (saturday) was life-changing, I meant it, I wasn't being flippant. Okay, long day, lots of spirit changes -- first at counseling, then bellydancing, then church.

At counseling, Patricia and I started by picking apart the dream that I had after the last session, about three different houses, the open, breezy, beautiful one where I was naked and open and utterly content in my hispanic family; the house I lived in with my parents where ALL the memories pretend to be, even if they happened at a different time; and the skeleton of a house with an evil foundation. ( ... ) She explained that not all the parts of me want what I want. Some parts hate the fact that I didn't die (and still want to die), some parts hate God, some parts refuse to enjoy life, etc. And she said that God has given me authority over all parts of me, and I need to take authority and use it. So she gave me a thing to say, not a prayer or a mantra but similar, where I take authority over all parts of me and command the parts that don't know God to be silent and not interfere in my life. It's not a permanent solution, just something to keep me from warring against myself until I am one person. I said it, you know, but I didn't expect much of a result.

We also talked about my wish for parents ( ... )

Then I went to bellydancing, and oh-my-gosh. There was such a huge difference in my body's ability to connect with my spirit/mind. I mean, last time was horrible, I could see and comprehend but could not do. And part of it was this time I gave myself permission to fail, permission to not do it perfectly the first time -- but the huge difference was because of taking authority over myself. There was part of me that interfered with everything I did, and that part was forced to be quiet and stop blocking my dance. This time I danced in the in-between times, totally not caring if I was doing it wrong or if the other girls were looking. My body, my spirit, was so much more free, so much more alive.

And after that I went to church, and PJ gave an awesome sermon -- my favorite part was when he validated my feelings and current goal in life -- transparency. He said, point-blank, that transparency is something we should all strive for. That privacy is not something we should strive to protect. I was so excited, I clapped and cheered (no, I ain't kidding -- in my church nobody turns and looks at you funny if you do stuff like that). I think I was the only one thrilled with that declaration, though. Even the other "high I's" (extroverted hyper personality type) just kinda took it in -- but then I wasn't really paying attention to everyone else, so maybe some others were excited too. I'm so sick of the religious mindset that we're all supposed to hide most of ourselves and only share the 10% that we think others will consider 'worthy.' I'm delighted with PJ for saying otherwise.

I am strong, I am beautiful, I am true.

When I said that my day (saturday) was life-changing, I meant it, I wasn't being flippant. Okay, long day, lots of spirit changes -- first at counseling, then bellydancing, then church.

At counseling, Patricia and I started by picking apart the dream that I had after the last session, about three different houses, the open, breezy, beautiful one where I was naked and open and utterly content in my hispanic family; the house I lived in with my parents where ALL the memories pretend to be, even if they happened at a different time; and the skeleton of a house with an evil foundation. ( ... ) She explained that not all the parts of me want what I want. Some parts hate the fact that I didn't die (and still want to die), some parts hate God, some parts refuse to enjoy life, etc. And she said that God has given me authority over all parts of me, and I need to take authority and use it. So she gave me a thing to say, not a prayer or a mantra but similar, where I take authority over all parts of me and command the parts that don't know God to be silent and not interfere in my life. It's not a permanent solution, just something to keep me from warring against myself until I am one person. I said it, you know, but I didn't expect much of a result.

We also talked about my wish for parents ( ... )

Then I went to bellydancing, and oh-my-gosh. There was such a huge difference in my body's ability to connect with my spirit/mind. I mean, last time was horrible, I could see and comprehend but could not do. And part of it was this time I gave myself permission to fail, permission to not do it perfectly the first time -- but the huge difference was because of taking authority over myself. There was part of me that interfered with everything I did, and that part was forced to be quiet and stop blocking my dance. This time I danced in the in-between times, totally not caring if I was doing it wrong or if the other girls were looking. My body, my spirit, was so much more free, so much more alive.

And after that I went to church, and PJ gave an awesome sermon -- my favorite part was when he validated my feelings and current goal in life -- transparency. He said, point-blank, that transparency is something we should all strive for. That privacy is not something we should strive to protect. I was so excited, I clapped and cheered (no, I ain't kidding -- in my church nobody turns and looks at you funny if you do stuff like that). I think I was the only one thrilled with that declaration, though. Even the other "high I's" (extroverted hyper personality type) just kinda took it in -- but then I wasn't really paying attention to everyone else, so maybe some others were excited too. I'm so sick of the religious mindset that we're all supposed to hide most of ourselves and only share the 10% that we think others will consider 'worthy.' I'm delighted with PJ for saying otherwise.

I am strong, I am beautiful, I am true.

When I said that my day (saturday) was life-changing, I meant it, I wasn't being flippant. Okay, long day, lots of spirit changes -- first at counseling, then bellydancing, then church.

At counseling, Patricia and I started by picking apart the dream that I had after the last session, about three different houses, the open, breezy, beautiful one where I was naked and open and utterly content in my hispanic family; the house I lived in with my parents where ALL the memories pretend to be, even if they happened at a different time; and the skeleton of a house with an evil foundation. ( ... ) She explained that not all the parts of me want what I want. Some parts hate the fact that I didn't die (and still want to die), some parts hate God, some parts refuse to enjoy life, etc. And she said that God has given me authority over all parts of me, and I need to take authority and use it. So she gave me a thing to say, not a prayer or a mantra but similar, where I take authority over all parts of me and command the parts that don't know God to be silent and not interfere in my life. It's not a permanent solution, just something to keep me from warring against myself until I am one person. I said it, you know, but I didn't expect much of a result.

We also talked about my wish for parents ( ... )

Then I went to bellydancing, and oh-my-gosh. There was such a huge difference in my body's ability to connect with my spirit/mind. I mean, last time was horrible, I could see and comprehend but could not do. And part of it was this time I gave myself permission to fail, permission to not do it perfectly the first time -- but the huge difference was because of taking authority over myself. There was part of me that interfered with everything I did, and that part was forced to be quiet and stop blocking my dance. This time I danced in the in-between times, totally not caring if I was doing it wrong or if the other girls were looking. My body, my spirit, was so much more free, so much more alive.

And after that I went to church, and PJ gave an awesome sermon -- my favorite part was when he validated my feelings and current goal in life -- transparency. He said, point-blank, that transparency is something we should all strive for. That privacy is not something we should strive to protect. I was so excited, I clapped and cheered (no, I ain't kidding -- in my church nobody turns and looks at you funny if you do stuff like that). I think I was the only one thrilled with that declaration, though. Even the other "high I's" (extroverted hyper personality type) just kinda took it in -- but then I wasn't really paying attention to everyone else, so maybe some others were excited too. I'm so sick of the religious mindset that we're all supposed to hide most of ourselves and only share the 10% that we think others will consider 'worthy.' I'm delighted with PJ for saying otherwise.

I am strong, I am beautiful, I am true.

This time we pinpointed the event that split me into the cobra and the waif... oddly enough, it wasn't one of those sexual abuse events. What I can remember is being about four years old, and telling my dad "no" for the first time. I can't remember what it was, probably something like he told me to put my toys away, but he got so angry... His face turned red and he pinched his lips together and told me something like "You're not allowed to say no." The effect of this was that from then on, I believed that there was nothing I could count on, and if I didn't perform, I might get kicked out, with nothing to eat and nowhere to sleep... and in every relationship I've ever had, I am afraid that if I do something wrong, then they will cease to care about me.

John says that when I am able to forgive my dad for all the effects he's had on my life, then my cobra and waif will be able to join. But before I can forgive my dad I have to have healing from all those things. My assignment, during the next two weeks, is to write down all the things that I need to forgive my dad for. Dayum.

--------

Essentially, my childhood ended at age four. From then on, in my way of thinking, I earned every bite I ate and every moment I spent under my parents' roof; I've never felt any obligation to them at all. I felt like I had employers, not parents, and I just don't have "family" feelings like most people. The bonds were broken before I even went to kindergarten. It makes me feel weird to hear people talk about how they love their parents or siblings -- mine were just housemates. I don't understand feeling secure in a family relationship, I don't understand feeling fuzzy about one's siblings, I don't understand wanting to spend time with one's family.
And of course Ben has a family that is unlike any you've ever seen -- absolutely the most functional family in this generation. So he wants to spend time with them, and I just don't get it. One at a time I like them... but all at once they frustrate me, because the family concept frustrates me. Yet sometimes I enjoy them all together... And any flaw in their family screams at me, because in my family I was the one in charge of fixing the problems, and I can't get myself out of that role; and everybody else just doesn't see it or ignores it. That, above all, is why I don't like family situations -- I feel like I need to make the kids behave and make the parents respond correctly, and it's incredibly frustrating. Not just in Ben's family or mine, but in any place where I'm around a parent and child. Apart I enjoy their company -- together I want to yell at them or run away.

This time we pinpointed the event that split me into the cobra and the waif... oddly enough, it wasn't one of those sexual abuse events. What I can remember is being about four years old, and telling my dad "no" for the first time. I can't remember what it was, probably something like he told me to put my toys away, but he got so angry... His face turned red and he pinched his lips together and told me something like "You're not allowed to say no." The effect of this was that from then on, I believed that there was nothing I could count on, and if I didn't perform, I might get kicked out, with nothing to eat and nowhere to sleep... and in every relationship I've ever had, I am afraid that if I do something wrong, then they will cease to care about me.

John says that when I am able to forgive my dad for all the effects he's had on my life, then my cobra and waif will be able to join. But before I can forgive my dad I have to have healing from all those things. My assignment, during the next two weeks, is to write down all the things that I need to forgive my dad for. Dayum.

--------

Essentially, my childhood ended at age four. From then on, in my way of thinking, I earned every bite I ate and every moment I spent under my parents' roof; I've never felt any obligation to them at all. I felt like I had employers, not parents, and I just don't have "family" feelings like most people. The bonds were broken before I even went to kindergarten. It makes me feel weird to hear people talk about how they love their parents or siblings -- mine were just housemates. I don't understand feeling secure in a family relationship, I don't understand feeling fuzzy about one's siblings, I don't understand wanting to spend time with one's family.
And of course Ben has a family that is unlike any you've ever seen -- absolutely the most functional family in this generation. So he wants to spend time with them, and I just don't get it. One at a time I like them... but all at once they frustrate me, because the family concept frustrates me. Yet sometimes I enjoy them all together... And any flaw in their family screams at me, because in my family I was the one in charge of fixing the problems, and I can't get myself out of that role; and everybody else just doesn't see it or ignores it. That, above all, is why I don't like family situations -- I feel like I need to make the kids behave and make the parents respond correctly, and it's incredibly frustrating. Not just in Ben's family or mine, but in any place where I'm around a parent and child. Apart I enjoy their company -- together I want to yell at them or run away.

This time we pinpointed the event that split me into the cobra and the waif... oddly enough, it wasn't one of those sexual abuse events. What I can remember is being about four years old, and telling my dad "no" for the first time. I can't remember what it was, probably something like he told me to put my toys away, but he got so angry... His face turned red and he pinched his lips together and told me something like "You're not allowed to say no." The effect of this was that from then on, I believed that there was nothing I could count on, and if I didn't perform, I might get kicked out, with nothing to eat and nowhere to sleep... and in every relationship I've ever had, I am afraid that if I do something wrong, then they will cease to care about me.

John says that when I am able to forgive my dad for all the effects he's had on my life, then my cobra and waif will be able to join. But before I can forgive my dad I have to have healing from all those things. My assignment, during the next two weeks, is to write down all the things that I need to forgive my dad for. Dayum.

--------

Essentially, my childhood ended at age four. From then on, in my way of thinking, I earned every bite I ate and every moment I spent under my parents' roof; I've never felt any obligation to them at all. I felt like I had employers, not parents, and I just don't have "family" feelings like most people. The bonds were broken before I even went to kindergarten. It makes me feel weird to hear people talk about how they love their parents or siblings -- mine were just housemates. I don't understand feeling secure in a family relationship, I don't understand feeling fuzzy about one's siblings, I don't understand wanting to spend time with one's family.
And of course Ben has a family that is unlike any you've ever seen -- absolutely the most functional family in this generation. So he wants to spend time with them, and I just don't get it. One at a time I like them... but all at once they frustrate me, because the family concept frustrates me. Yet sometimes I enjoy them all together... And any flaw in their family screams at me, because in my family I was the one in charge of fixing the problems, and I can't get myself out of that role; and everybody else just doesn't see it or ignores it. That, above all, is why I don't like family situations -- I feel like I need to make the kids behave and make the parents respond correctly, and it's incredibly frustrating. Not just in Ben's family or mine, but in any place where I'm around a parent and child. Apart I enjoy their company -- together I want to yell at them or run away.

To just give a quick summary this time, I learned:

1. If I feel guilty and I don't know why, it's false guilt, and I'm to throw it out. The purpose of my conscience is to let me know that, at my level of maturity, a certain action is to be avoided. Its purpose is NOT to make me feel worthless and deserving of punishment. (that sodomizing memory was apparently inflicted as 'punishment' without any explanation of what I did, leading me to believe that if bad stuff happened to me, it was because I did something wrong. Not true, God said.)

2. If I have an image of God as anything other than loving, it isn't a true image and I can/should throw it out. The Bible says God is Love.

3. God is NEVER mad/angry/etc. at me; when he looks at me he sees perfection, he sees Jesus; and how can he be angry at or disappointed in Jesus? God reminded me of the caterpillar; although it cannot yet fly, by all scientific tests it is nonetheless a butterfly. That's me; though I am not yet all I will be, in every important way I am already my future wonderful self -- and that it what God sees.

------------

Also, my Cobra self accepted my scapegoat self, and when they blended, the formerly-white Cobra turned violet and emerald, still with the same shimmery sheen. That took a lot of convincing -- my Cobra self had to learn that it was okay to fail, and that I needed to own my failures in order to stop being afraid of failing. My little-girl self had to overcome her intense fear of the scapegoat to allow it to join.

I'm writing this from a week and a half after it happened, and I have been much stronger since the blending of my Cobra and scapegoat selves.

To just give a quick summary this time, I learned:

1. If I feel guilty and I don't know why, it's false guilt, and I'm to throw it out. The purpose of my conscience is to let me know that, at my level of maturity, a certain action is to be avoided. Its purpose is NOT to make me feel worthless and deserving of punishment. (that sodomizing memory was apparently inflicted as 'punishment' without any explanation of what I did, leading me to believe that if bad stuff happened to me, it was because I did something wrong. Not true, God said.)

2. If I have an image of God as anything other than loving, it isn't a true image and I can/should throw it out. The Bible says God is Love.

3. God is NEVER mad/angry/etc. at me; when he looks at me he sees perfection, he sees Jesus; and how can he be angry at or disappointed in Jesus? God reminded me of the caterpillar; although it cannot yet fly, by all scientific tests it is nonetheless a butterfly. That's me; though I am not yet all I will be, in every important way I am already my future wonderful self -- and that it what God sees.

------------

Also, my Cobra self accepted my scapegoat self, and when they blended, the formerly-white Cobra turned violet and emerald, still with the same shimmery sheen. That took a lot of convincing -- my Cobra self had to learn that it was okay to fail, and that I needed to own my failures in order to stop being afraid of failing. My little-girl self had to overcome her intense fear of the scapegoat to allow it to join.

I'm writing this from a week and a half after it happened, and I have been much stronger since the blending of my Cobra and scapegoat selves.

To just give a quick summary this time, I learned:

1. If I feel guilty and I don't know why, it's false guilt, and I'm to throw it out. The purpose of my conscience is to let me know that, at my level of maturity, a certain action is to be avoided. Its purpose is NOT to make me feel worthless and deserving of punishment. (that sodomizing memory was apparently inflicted as 'punishment' without any explanation of what I did, leading me to believe that if bad stuff happened to me, it was because I did something wrong. Not true, God said.)

2. If I have an image of God as anything other than loving, it isn't a true image and I can/should throw it out. The Bible says God is Love.

3. God is NEVER mad/angry/etc. at me; when he looks at me he sees perfection, he sees Jesus; and how can he be angry at or disappointed in Jesus? God reminded me of the caterpillar; although it cannot yet fly, by all scientific tests it is nonetheless a butterfly. That's me; though I am not yet all I will be, in every important way I am already my future wonderful self -- and that it what God sees.

------------

Also, my Cobra self accepted my scapegoat self, and when they blended, the formerly-white Cobra turned violet and emerald, still with the same shimmery sheen. That took a lot of convincing -- my Cobra self had to learn that it was okay to fail, and that I needed to own my failures in order to stop being afraid of failing. My little-girl self had to overcome her intense fear of the scapegoat to allow it to join.

I'm writing this from a week and a half after it happened, and I have been much stronger since the blending of my Cobra and scapegoat selves.

Theophostic again -- and an awesome thing happened. We went through ( a memory ) which planted in me the lie that what was sacred to me was silly to others, and asked Jesus what he wanted to say to me about that. He (Jesus) said that what people don't understand seems silly to them, but that whatever is sacred to me is sacred to him. He added that I am sacred to him. ( ... )

Here's the awesome part: I asked Jesus to wash me -- and I saw living water curl around my naked spirit-self, starting at my feet and swirling around my legs, around my belly, and finally flowing off my arms, and I felt cleansed. Then Jesus stood in front of me and reached out his right hand, palm toward me, and placed it over my heart. When he pulled his hand back, there was a beautiful, glowing silver brand on my chest. I couldn't see it very clearly -- it shimmered a bit -- but it was ovalish, with a delicate design -- so glimmeringly fascinating. When I die I'll be sure to look at it more closely. ;-) Then he pulled me into his lap and held me.

I'm not sure if I've mentioned it before, but when we pray through these things the sting is gone from the memory -- the first time I open the memory it brings up all those feelings, but after we pray through it I think over the memory and its power to make me feel violated is gone. If it isn't gone after the first prayer, we pray over the part that still bothers me until it's gone. I can flip through these memories and not feel any yuckiness: but until we go through ALL of them I'll still feel that tinge of dread at opening my mind.

More good news: there is a new part of my mind that I think is the beginning of a healed me, 'cause she looks like me. Today she told the beautiful cobra that she needed to stop hiding my memories and let me go through them, and the cobra agreed; so today was much less inner fighting and more actual healing. I've been dreading theophostic 'cause it has been such hard work to pry the memories out, but it will be much easier now. The cobra was very impressed with how Jesus handled the first memory, and very impressed with how much better the four-year-old looked; she actually smiled today.


The second memory was much harder; it was about my friend Karen. ( two-fold ) I've always been very connected with the spirits of those I love, so I felt much of her feelings as my own. We had opened this memory last time but not had enough time to go through it totally, so we went back into it today, and I think there must be a closely related memory still to go through, 'cause I'm not through being bothered by that one.

The most potent thing about that memory was my helplessness. I didn't know what to do (I was only seven) and my whole being cried out, "Do something!" but I was trapped by my youth and belief that older people were always right. So when we asked Jesus to talk to me about it, he stressed again that age/authority is not always right, and that truth is more important than authority. I asked how I could live that way, and he said for me to question everything I do with why, and if it is for authority other than him (or him speaking through others in a way I see as truth), not to do it. He also told me that he may have let me experience terrible things, but he never left me or looked away; he always had his hand over my heart. After he said that I felt a shield over me; when Karen's brother laid on top of me, I couldn't feel it, and I no longer felt helpless; instead I felt protected.

I also was terribly angry -- oh, I would have delightedly slaughtered Karen's brother had I had the chance. Last time John had asked if I would give my anger to Jesus and I said, "No." Today he asked again, and since Jesus had just built my trust I said yes, figuring that he's more powerful and can do more damage to Karen's brother than I could. Some of the anger began to slip, and I protested to God, "but it isn't fair that he should get away with it!" and he said quietly that no one ever gets away with it -- that doing such things destroys the soul more surely than AIDS destroys the body. Thinking on how merely being the victim can eat at a soul, my anger eased greatly; he may try to drown it in porn or drugs or whatever, but he'll experience a lot more hell than I ever will. After Jesus said that, I went through the memory again, and instead of seeing Karen's brother as a fearsome aggressor, I saw him as he really was -- a skulking, miserable creature, full of fear himself. I didn't feel pity, mind you, but I didn't feel hate either.

Lastly, I had to give up carrying Karen's burden. I can pray for her, but holding her wounds in my heart will do no good and cause me pain. That was difficult, but I'll start praying for her. I think she was actually my favorite friend, but as I grew up my mind hid so many memories of her that she has been a haze in my mind. She is a beautiful person -- I wonder if I will see her again.

Theophostic again -- and an awesome thing happened. We went through ( a memory ) which planted in me the lie that what was sacred to me was silly to others, and asked Jesus what he wanted to say to me about that. He (Jesus) said that what people don't understand seems silly to them, but that whatever is sacred to me is sacred to him. He added that I am sacred to him. ( ... )

Here's the awesome part: I asked Jesus to wash me -- and I saw living water curl around my naked spirit-self, starting at my feet and swirling around my legs, around my belly, and finally flowing off my arms, and I felt cleansed. Then Jesus stood in front of me and reached out his right hand, palm toward me, and placed it over my heart. When he pulled his hand back, there was a beautiful, glowing silver brand on my chest. I couldn't see it very clearly -- it shimmered a bit -- but it was ovalish, with a delicate design -- so glimmeringly fascinating. When I die I'll be sure to look at it more closely. ;-) Then he pulled me into his lap and held me.

I'm not sure if I've mentioned it before, but when we pray through these things the sting is gone from the memory -- the first time I open the memory it brings up all those feelings, but after we pray through it I think over the memory and its power to make me feel violated is gone. If it isn't gone after the first prayer, we pray over the part that still bothers me until it's gone. I can flip through these memories and not feel any yuckiness: but until we go through ALL of them I'll still feel that tinge of dread at opening my mind.

More good news: there is a new part of my mind that I think is the beginning of a healed me, 'cause she looks like me. Today she told the beautiful cobra that she needed to stop hiding my memories and let me go through them, and the cobra agreed; so today was much less inner fighting and more actual healing. I've been dreading theophostic 'cause it has been such hard work to pry the memories out, but it will be much easier now. The cobra was very impressed with how Jesus handled the first memory, and very impressed with how much better the four-year-old looked; she actually smiled today.


The second memory was much harder; it was about my friend Karen. ( two-fold ) I've always been very connected with the spirits of those I love, so I felt much of her feelings as my own. We had opened this memory last time but not had enough time to go through it totally, so we went back into it today, and I think there must be a closely related memory still to go through, 'cause I'm not through being bothered by that one.

The most potent thing about that memory was my helplessness. I didn't know what to do (I was only seven) and my whole being cried out, "Do something!" but I was trapped by my youth and belief that older people were always right. So when we asked Jesus to talk to me about it, he stressed again that age/authority is not always right, and that truth is more important than authority. I asked how I could live that way, and he said for me to question everything I do with why, and if it is for authority other than him (or him speaking through others in a way I see as truth), not to do it. He also told me that he may have let me experience terrible things, but he never left me or looked away; he always had his hand over my heart. After he said that I felt a shield over me; when Karen's brother laid on top of me, I couldn't feel it, and I no longer felt helpless; instead I felt protected.

I also was terribly angry -- oh, I would have delightedly slaughtered Karen's brother had I had the chance. Last time John had asked if I would give my anger to Jesus and I said, "No." Today he asked again, and since Jesus had just built my trust I said yes, figuring that he's more powerful and can do more damage to Karen's brother than I could. Some of the anger began to slip, and I protested to God, "but it isn't fair that he should get away with it!" and he said quietly that no one ever gets away with it -- that doing such things destroys the soul more surely than AIDS destroys the body. Thinking on how merely being the victim can eat at a soul, my anger eased greatly; he may try to drown it in porn or drugs or whatever, but he'll experience a lot more hell than I ever will. After Jesus said that, I went through the memory again, and instead of seeing Karen's brother as a fearsome aggressor, I saw him as he really was -- a skulking, miserable creature, full of fear himself. I didn't feel pity, mind you, but I didn't feel hate either.

Lastly, I had to give up carrying Karen's burden. I can pray for her, but holding her wounds in my heart will do no good and cause me pain. That was difficult, but I'll start praying for her. I think she was actually my favorite friend, but as I grew up my mind hid so many memories of her that she has been a haze in my mind. She is a beautiful person -- I wonder if I will see her again.

Kristen is a happy gir'!
Theophostic again -- and an awesome thing happened. We went through ( a memory ) which planted in me the lie that what was sacred to me was silly to others, and asked Jesus what he wanted to say to me about that. He (Jesus) said that what people don't understand seems silly to them, but that whatever is sacred to me is sacred to him. He added that I am sacred to him. ( ... )

Here's the awesome part: I asked Jesus to wash me -- and I saw living water curl around my naked spirit-self, starting at my feet and swirling around my legs, around my belly, and finally flowing off my arms, and I felt cleansed. Then Jesus stood in front of me and reached out his right hand, palm toward me, and placed it over my heart. When he pulled his hand back, there was a beautiful, glowing silver brand on my chest. I couldn't see it very clearly -- it shimmered a bit -- but it was ovalish, with a delicate design -- so glimmeringly fascinating. When I die I'll be sure to look at it more closely. ;-) Then he pulled me into his lap and held me.

I'm not sure if I've mentioned it before, but when we pray through these things the sting is gone from the memory -- the first time I open the memory it brings up all those feelings, but after we pray through it I think over the memory and its power to make me feel violated is gone. If it isn't gone after the first prayer, we pray over the part that still bothers me until it's gone. I can flip through these memories and not feel any yuckiness: but until we go through ALL of them I'll still feel that tinge of dread at opening my mind.

More good news: there is a new part of my mind that I think is the beginning of a healed me, 'cause she looks like me. Today she told the beautiful cobra that she needed to stop hiding my memories and let me go through them, and the cobra agreed; so today was much less inner fighting and more actual healing. I've been dreading theophostic 'cause it has been such hard work to pry the memories out, but it will be much easier now. The cobra was very impressed with how Jesus handled the first memory, and very impressed with how much better the four-year-old looked; she actually smiled today.


The second memory was much harder; it was about my friend Karen. ( two-fold ) I've always been very connected with the spirits of those I love, so I felt much of her feelings as my own. We had opened this memory last time but not had enough time to go through it totally, so we went back into it today, and I think there must be a closely related memory still to go through, 'cause I'm not through being bothered by that one.

The most potent thing about that memory was my helplessness. I didn't know what to do (I was only seven) and my whole being cried out, "Do something!" but I was trapped by my youth and belief that older people were always right. So when we asked Jesus to talk to me about it, he stressed again that age/authority is not always right, and that truth is more important than authority. I asked how I could live that way, and he said for me to question everything I do with why, and if it is for authority other than him (or him speaking through others in a way I see as truth), not to do it. He also told me that he may have let me experience terrible things, but he never left me or looked away; he always had his hand over my heart. After he said that I felt a shield over me; when Karen's brother laid on top of me, I couldn't feel it, and I no longer felt helpless; instead I felt protected.

I also was terribly angry -- oh, I would have delightedly slaughtered Karen's brother had I had the chance. Last time John had asked if I would give my anger to Jesus and I said, "No." Today he asked again, and since Jesus had just built my trust I said yes, figuring that he's more powerful and can do more damage to Karen's brother than I could. Some of the anger began to slip, and I protested to God, "but it isn't fair that he should get away with it!" and he said quietly that no one ever gets away with it -- that doing such things destroys the soul more surely than AIDS destroys the body. Thinking on how merely being the victim can eat at a soul, my anger eased greatly; he may try to drown it in porn or drugs or whatever, but he'll experience a lot more hell than I ever will. After Jesus said that, I went through the memory again, and instead of seeing Karen's brother as a fearsome aggressor, I saw him as he really was -- a skulking, miserable creature, full of fear himself. I didn't feel pity, mind you, but I didn't feel hate either.

Lastly, I had to give up carrying Karen's burden. I can pray for her, but holding her wounds in my heart will do no good and cause me pain. That was difficult, but I'll start praying for her. I think she was actually my favorite friend, but as I grew up my mind hid so many memories of her that she has been a haze in my mind. She is a beautiful person -- I wonder if I will see her again.

This theophostic stuff is exhausting. Today we unearthed a demon who I let separate my soul and spirit so that I would not feel my spirit's pain. That's pretty freaky, right there. All this time I'm like, "Why can't I connect with myself? What is it that keeps me continually feeling half-alive?" So we found it. And at first he was arrogant and hissing at John, saying that John didn't have the authority to make him leave (which he didn't, 'cause I had given him that power) and he had his hand clenched around my heart. After I prayed, saying that I renounced the agreement, and commanded him to stop separating my soul and spirit, he let go of my heart like it burned his hand. But he still was arrogant, and John made him confess why he still had power, and he said that he had control of my ankles (and laughed). Apparently I made a contract, in deeds, not words, with this demon to keep me from falling (or failing) because I didn't trust the path that God wanted to lead me on. In return, the demon got to keep me away from living a full life. When I renounced that agreement, he crossed his arms and pouted, but didn't leave until John commanded him to in Jesus' name. Then he started to slink out like a resentful dog, and my spirit got irritated and also commanded him to go (in a shouting internal voice), and then he fled.

This stuff is a stretch even for me... seeing these things inside me without seeing them. It's like theophostic is in a sense teaching me to see the spiritual world (as well as cleansing me). My mind is in two main parts right now. One is a huge gorgeous white cobra, which when standing is six-feet-tall (not counting the coils) -- she inspires near awe in me when I see her. I'm just amazed that part of my mind is so incredibly beautiful. She kind of shimmers iridescent, and she projects a strength and wisdom that makes me love her. (the cobra isn't what I'd have expected, I like cobras but they aren't my favorite) The other part of me is a starved four-year-old girl. She is so delicate, with huge dark circles under her eyes and an intense, frightening vulnerability. The cobra wraps her up and holds her; and since she doesn't have much strength, the little girl sleeps almost all the time. And the cobra protects her, and hides the memories that would hurt the little girl. Unfortunately, you can't stitch up a wound when it has bandages over it, so all that stuff has to come up and be healed, one by one.

I now understand why I have such a hard time believing this stuff, and why so many of the memories don't make sense. John explained that my mind is trying to hide these memories, and the best way to do that is to make me believe that they aren't real. So these memories that are coming up have false images superimposed on them. (In a memory today I realized that I didn't recognize the man in the memory because my mind has superimposed an image of a Ken doll over him to make the memory seem nicer, prettier. It had also superimposed a picture of the wrong house to make me disbelieve the memory -- after some peeling we discovered this) He says that after I go through a memory that I truly believe, it will open up everything -- and it will hurt, but it will all heal much faster then. And how will I be able to believe the memory? I'll feel the pain of it. I both look forward to that and dread it. And I dread that one fact, whatever it is, that leads to the avalanche...

But after I'm healed, then I can believe that rape is not the annihilation of a soul, and that healing is possible, and I will be able to trust God fully for the first time. After all, how can you trust God if you feel like he lets humans utterly destroy other humans? He's all powerful, and killing someone else's soul should be where he draws the line, right? But if rape isn't the killing of a soul, if it is a terrible destruction that nonetheless can be healed on earth, then I can believe that he allows free will even to that point. And I believe that those who survive rape and don't give up on life are the most beautiful, strong, powerful people that live. As bad as whatever I went through may be, when I am healed I will be proud to be one of the glowing ones.

This theophostic stuff is exhausting. Today we unearthed a demon who I let separate my soul and spirit so that I would not feel my spirit's pain. That's pretty freaky, right there. All this time I'm like, "Why can't I connect with myself? What is it that keeps me continually feeling half-alive?" So we found it. And at first he was arrogant and hissing at John, saying that John didn't have the authority to make him leave (which he didn't, 'cause I had given him that power) and he had his hand clenched around my heart. After I prayed, saying that I renounced the agreement, and commanded him to stop separating my soul and spirit, he let go of my heart like it burned his hand. But he still was arrogant, and John made him confess why he still had power, and he said that he had control of my ankles (and laughed). Apparently I made a contract, in deeds, not words, with this demon to keep me from falling (or failing) because I didn't trust the path that God wanted to lead me on. In return, the demon got to keep me away from living a full life. When I renounced that agreement, he crossed his arms and pouted, but didn't leave until John commanded him to in Jesus' name. Then he started to slink out like a resentful dog, and my spirit got irritated and also commanded him to go (in a shouting internal voice), and then he fled.

This stuff is a stretch even for me... seeing these things inside me without seeing them. It's like theophostic is in a sense teaching me to see the spiritual world (as well as cleansing me). My mind is in two main parts right now. One is a huge gorgeous white cobra, which when standing is six-feet-tall (not counting the coils) -- she inspires near awe in me when I see her. I'm just amazed that part of my mind is so incredibly beautiful. She kind of shimmers iridescent, and she projects a strength and wisdom that makes me love her. (the cobra isn't what I'd have expected, I like cobras but they aren't my favorite) The other part of me is a starved four-year-old girl. She is so delicate, with huge dark circles under her eyes and an intense, frightening vulnerability. The cobra wraps her up and holds her; and since she doesn't have much strength, the little girl sleeps almost all the time. And the cobra protects her, and hides the memories that would hurt the little girl. Unfortunately, you can't stitch up a wound when it has bandages over it, so all that stuff has to come up and be healed, one by one.

I now understand why I have such a hard time believing this stuff, and why so many of the memories don't make sense. John explained that my mind is trying to hide these memories, and the best way to do that is to make me believe that they aren't real. So these memories that are coming up have false images superimposed on them. (In a memory today I realized that I didn't recognize the man in the memory because my mind has superimposed an image of a Ken doll over him to make the memory seem nicer, prettier. It had also superimposed a picture of the wrong house to make me disbelieve the memory -- after some peeling we discovered this) He says that after I go through a memory that I truly believe, it will open up everything -- and it will hurt, but it will all heal much faster then. And how will I be able to believe the memory? I'll feel the pain of it. I both look forward to that and dread it. And I dread that one fact, whatever it is, that leads to the avalanche...

But after I'm healed, then I can believe that rape is not the annihilation of a soul, and that healing is possible, and I will be able to trust God fully for the first time. After all, how can you trust God if you feel like he lets humans utterly destroy other humans? He's all powerful, and killing someone else's soul should be where he draws the line, right? But if rape isn't the killing of a soul, if it is a terrible destruction that nonetheless can be healed on earth, then I can believe that he allows free will even to that point. And I believe that those who survive rape and don't give up on life are the most beautiful, strong, powerful people that live. As bad as whatever I went through may be, when I am healed I will be proud to be one of the glowing ones.

This theophostic stuff is exhausting. Today we unearthed a demon who I let separate my soul and spirit so that I would not feel my spirit's pain. That's pretty freaky, right there. All this time I'm like, "Why can't I connect with myself? What is it that keeps me continually feeling half-alive?" So we found it. And at first he was arrogant and hissing at John, saying that John didn't have the authority to make him leave (which he didn't, 'cause I had given him that power) and he had his hand clenched around my heart. After I prayed, saying that I renounced the agreement, and commanded him to stop separating my soul and spirit, he let go of my heart like it burned his hand. But he still was arrogant, and John made him confess why he still had power, and he said that he had control of my ankles (and laughed). Apparently I made a contract, in deeds, not words, with this demon to keep me from falling (or failing) because I didn't trust the path that God wanted to lead me on. In return, the demon got to keep me away from living a full life. When I renounced that agreement, he crossed his arms and pouted, but didn't leave until John commanded him to in Jesus' name. Then he started to slink out like a resentful dog, and my spirit got irritated and also commanded him to go (in a shouting internal voice), and then he fled.

This stuff is a stretch even for me... seeing these things inside me without seeing them. It's like theophostic is in a sense teaching me to see the spiritual world (as well as cleansing me). My mind is in two main parts right now. One is a huge gorgeous white cobra, which when standing is six-feet-tall (not counting the coils) -- she inspires near awe in me when I see her. I'm just amazed that part of my mind is so incredibly beautiful. She kind of shimmers iridescent, and she projects a strength and wisdom that makes me love her. (the cobra isn't what I'd have expected, I like cobras but they aren't my favorite) The other part of me is a starved four-year-old girl. She is so delicate, with huge dark circles under her eyes and an intense, frightening vulnerability. The cobra wraps her up and holds her; and since she doesn't have much strength, the little girl sleeps almost all the time. And the cobra protects her, and hides the memories that would hurt the little girl. Unfortunately, you can't stitch up a wound when it has bandages over it, so all that stuff has to come up and be healed, one by one.

I now understand why I have such a hard time believing this stuff, and why so many of the memories don't make sense. John explained that my mind is trying to hide these memories, and the best way to do that is to make me believe that they aren't real. So these memories that are coming up have false images superimposed on them. (In a memory today I realized that I didn't recognize the man in the memory because my mind has superimposed an image of a Ken doll over him to make the memory seem nicer, prettier. It had also superimposed a picture of the wrong house to make me disbelieve the memory -- after some peeling we discovered this) He says that after I go through a memory that I truly believe, it will open up everything -- and it will hurt, but it will all heal much faster then. And how will I be able to believe the memory? I'll feel the pain of it. I both look forward to that and dread it. And I dread that one fact, whatever it is, that leads to the avalanche...

But after I'm healed, then I can believe that rape is not the annihilation of a soul, and that healing is possible, and I will be able to trust God fully for the first time. After all, how can you trust God if you feel like he lets humans utterly destroy other humans? He's all powerful, and killing someone else's soul should be where he draws the line, right? But if rape isn't the killing of a soul, if it is a terrible destruction that nonetheless can be healed on earth, then I can believe that he allows free will even to that point. And I believe that those who survive rape and don't give up on life are the most beautiful, strong, powerful people that live. As bad as whatever I went through may be, when I am healed I will be proud to be one of the glowing ones.

I brought up a memory ( ... ) The hardest thing about it was that it is so hard to believe, since it's such a bizarre thing... but I do believe it. I did recognize the man, couldn't tell who he was but I knew that I knew him. It wasn't a stranger. Nasty nasty nasty.... nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty....... that word stays stuck in the front of my brain during these sessions. And I had been optimistic that we were nearly through (for one thing, I don't like this counselor's style; he's got a much more black&white picture of God than I have) but it doesn't seem like it.

The good part is, I can sing without closing off my throat now... I think it's because my spirit is more free and my faith is stronger, so I'm not so afraid of being myself. (and singing full-voice is about as myself as it gets) And Kaylene was so right -- there is a huge difference. I couldn't hear it before, but now I can tell when I'm doing it -- and I can open my throat and sing out. *happy girl, happy girl*

I brought up a memory ( ... ) The hardest thing about it was that it is so hard to believe, since it's such a bizarre thing... but I do believe it. I did recognize the man, couldn't tell who he was but I knew that I knew him. It wasn't a stranger. Nasty nasty nasty.... nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty....... that word stays stuck in the front of my brain during these sessions. And I had been optimistic that we were nearly through (for one thing, I don't like this counselor's style; he's got a much more black&white picture of God than I have) but it doesn't seem like it.

The good part is, I can sing without closing off my throat now... I think it's because my spirit is more free and my faith is stronger, so I'm not so afraid of being myself. (and singing full-voice is about as myself as it gets) And Kaylene was so right -- there is a huge difference. I couldn't hear it before, but now I can tell when I'm doing it -- and I can open my throat and sing out. *happy girl, happy girl*

I brought up a memory ( ... ) The hardest thing about it was that it is so hard to believe, since it's such a bizarre thing... but I do believe it. I did recognize the man, couldn't tell who he was but I knew that I knew him. It wasn't a stranger. Nasty nasty nasty.... nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty....... that word stays stuck in the front of my brain during these sessions. And I had been optimistic that we were nearly through (for one thing, I don't like this counselor's style; he's got a much more black&white picture of God than I have) but it doesn't seem like it.

The good part is, I can sing without closing off my throat now... I think it's because my spirit is more free and my faith is stronger, so I'm not so afraid of being myself. (and singing full-voice is about as myself as it gets) And Kaylene was so right -- there is a huge difference. I couldn't hear it before, but now I can tell when I'm doing it -- and I can open my throat and sing out. *happy girl, happy girl*

Theophostic counseling can be explained as the Christian version of hypnotherapy. Basically myself and the counselor pray and ask God to reveal to me the things inside me that have been buried -- like memories.

Last night I went to theophostic, a little nervous because last time (which was the first time) it seemed like we didn't get anywhere. We didn't pray through anything or uncover any lies, though we dug up some repressed memories. I was afraid that that would happen again, but this time it was different. Since we had broken down some walls in my mind last time, this time I was able to handle going back into those memories...

What I know is that I was sexually molested -- I don't know who the man is (I couldn't recognize him in the memory) and I'm not quite sure how old I was, and I don't know how many times, but I know that it happened. And I know that I had believed that I was unimportant (since he didn't care about my feelings or thoughts, obviously) but after unearthing that lie and praying, God told me that my feelings and whole self are very important... and that that man couldn't really dirty me. That his actions planted lies in my mind, but actions done to me cannot defile me -- only my reaction (in believing the lie that I'm worthless and defiled) has that power. Still workin' on believing that one.

Also, apparently when I was little I had told my parents something that had happened to me, and they insisted that I was making it up, and that led to me not being able to trust myself (because they knew more than I did, so what they said must be true, which makes me unable to trust my own mind). We got part of that resolved, but I'm not quite healed from that yet.

That answered so many questions -- why I can't believe fully in anything (that this world really exists, that I am really inside this body, that Ben loves me, etc.) and why I can't trust anyone else completely (including God). If you can't trust your own mind not to make up stuff, you can't trust anything, can you? All the good stuff might have been invented, and for all you know, this person might not even exist. --- all that had been in my subconscious, where it couldn't be addressed. But now, I'm killing the lies with truth, and drowning the darkness in light. It's a very cleansing feeling.

After the session I felt so much stronger, though there is still stuff I have to work through (like the lie all victims believe, that they deserved it)... I'm glad to be getting some answers, and know enough of the problem to start working on the solution.

Theophostic counseling can be explained as the Christian version of hypnotherapy. Basically myself and the counselor pray and ask God to reveal to me the things inside me that have been buried -- like memories.

Last night I went to theophostic, a little nervous because last time (which was the first time) it seemed like we didn't get anywhere. We didn't pray through anything or uncover any lies, though we dug up some repressed memories. I was afraid that that would happen again, but this time it was different. Since we had broken down some walls in my mind last time, this time I was able to handle going back into those memories...

What I know is that I was sexually molested -- I don't know who the man is (I couldn't recognize him in the memory) and I'm not quite sure how old I was, and I don't know how many times, but I know that it happened. And I know that I had believed that I was unimportant (since he didn't care about my feelings or thoughts, obviously) but after unearthing that lie and praying, God told me that my feelings and whole self are very important... and that that man couldn't really dirty me. That his actions planted lies in my mind, but actions done to me cannot defile me -- only my reaction (in believing the lie that I'm worthless and defiled) has that power. Still workin' on believing that one.

Also, apparently when I was little I had told my parents something that had happened to me, and they insisted that I was making it up, and that led to me not being able to trust myself (because they knew more than I did, so what they said must be true, which makes me unable to trust my own mind). We got part of that resolved, but I'm not quite healed from that yet.

That answered so many questions -- why I can't believe fully in anything (that this world really exists, that I am really inside this body, that Ben loves me, etc.) and why I can't trust anyone else completely (including God). If you can't trust your own mind not to make up stuff, you can't trust anything, can you? All the good stuff might have been invented, and for all you know, this person might not even exist. --- all that had been in my subconscious, where it couldn't be addressed. But now, I'm killing the lies with truth, and drowning the darkness in light. It's a very cleansing feeling.

After the session I felt so much stronger, though there is still stuff I have to work through (like the lie all victims believe, that they deserved it)... I'm glad to be getting some answers, and know enough of the problem to start working on the solution.

Theophostic counseling can be explained as the Christian version of hypnotherapy. Basically myself and the counselor pray and ask God to reveal to me the things inside me that have been buried -- like memories.

Last night I went to theophostic, a little nervous because last time (which was the first time) it seemed like we didn't get anywhere. We didn't pray through anything or uncover any lies, though we dug up some repressed memories. I was afraid that that would happen again, but this time it was different. Since we had broken down some walls in my mind last time, this time I was able to handle going back into those memories...

What I know is that I was sexually molested -- I don't know who the man is (I couldn't recognize him in the memory) and I'm not quite sure how old I was, and I don't know how many times, but I know that it happened. And I know that I had believed that I was unimportant (since he didn't care about my feelings or thoughts, obviously) but after unearthing that lie and praying, God told me that my feelings and whole self are very important... and that that man couldn't really dirty me. That his actions planted lies in my mind, but actions done to me cannot defile me -- only my reaction (in believing the lie that I'm worthless and defiled) has that power. Still workin' on believing that one.

Also, apparently when I was little I had told my parents something that had happened to me, and they insisted that I was making it up, and that led to me not being able to trust myself (because they knew more than I did, so what they said must be true, which makes me unable to trust my own mind). We got part of that resolved, but I'm not quite healed from that yet.

That answered so many questions -- why I can't believe fully in anything (that this world really exists, that I am really inside this body, that Ben loves me, etc.) and why I can't trust anyone else completely (including God). If you can't trust your own mind not to make up stuff, you can't trust anything, can you? All the good stuff might have been invented, and for all you know, this person might not even exist. --- all that had been in my subconscious, where it couldn't be addressed. But now, I'm killing the lies with truth, and drowning the darkness in light. It's a very cleansing feeling.

After the session I felt so much stronger, though there is still stuff I have to work through (like the lie all victims believe, that they deserved it)... I'm glad to be getting some answers, and know enough of the problem to start working on the solution.

At counseling today I became free. I have had a captive spirit for some years, since I decided to lock it up when it kept getting hurt. Having learned about captive and slumbering spirits, I am amazed at how many people must be captive or slumbering or both. This world has become so anti-family and devoid of true love that almost everyone flees into sleep or chains. The worst is when your spirit is awake, but captive; you can see how things are supposed to be and you know there is more to life, but you are trapped in your current existence. My spirit slept from time to time just because it hurt so much to be awake. But even when asleep, my apathy bothered me. and now I'm FREE! Liberated! Unchained! Unfettered! Free....

Virginia (my counselor) met with me alone (usually Ben and I counsel with Richard and Virginia) and we prayed together. She led me in prayers when I got lost, but mostly God healed/freed me through this vision...

There was an ocean, and I was in the bottom of the ocean. It was very clear, so even though it was extremely deep, the light shone through brightly. I was wearing a white flowy dress, and I could breathe the water. There was silver pieces all over the ground, and some were growing on plants. I was collecting the silver and playing with it. I knew that I had power all over the ocean; I could control who could come in and who couldn't and whether they could breathe underwater or not. I knew that Ben was on a dock and that God was above the water, but I couldn't let them in, even though I wanted to.

Virginia led me in a prayer to invite God in, but in the vision I went up to the surface and I couldn't go close enough to go through, and I didn't know how to let God in.

The scene switched, and I was in the old GA house. In the kitchen, doing the dishes, crying. I was crying because I was hurting and even though my parents knew about it, they did not care. To them, my feelings didn't matter, it was just my performance that mattered; as long as I did everything right, they didn't care. I could see my father in the next room at the computer with his back turned from me, and I knew my mother was in her bedroom.

Then Virginia led me in a prayer: she prayed that God would come in and show me the truth, and dispel the lie that how I felt was not important.

Then Jesus came out of my dad, and he hurried into the kitchen and held me and hugged me. Then he told me that I was important to him, that he loved me and that I was his heart. He said of course how I felt was important to him, because he feels what I feel – and I was comforted but still sad. Then he told me that he would hold me whenever I needed to be held. He took my hand and drew me into the living room, laid down on the couch, and pulled me on top of him, and curled me up in a little ball and held me. I felt so loved, safe, peaceful.

Then I was back in the ocean, and I went up to the dock where Ben was. When he saw my face, he got all excited and jumped in the water and we hugged. I was happy, and then all of a sudden I wanted to cry, because I wanted God with me, and I told Virginia that I wanted God to be my daddy and be with me all the time.

She led me in a prayer to kind of invite him, and he came into the water, came up to me, hugged me, and then broke chains (previously invisible) off of me and threw them away, telling me that he was going to take care of me and not let me be chained again.

Then there was a pause, and Virginia asked God to show me if he had anything else to say to me.

He told me that he would be my daddy and he would always stay with me and that I should come to him, not Ben, when I need to be held and he would hold me. I asked "how do I know you won't leave?" – so he immediately began to build a house out of light. I started helping him, adding silver. It was all done extremely quickly. The house was like a dome of light, really beautiful. It was one room, with a little table with three chairs, a kitchen area, and a little bed. A very simple house. But very beautiful. I needed to see that to know that he lived in my heart. Then he said that now not only would he be with me, but I could come visit him whenever I wanted. I felt so much more secure, because I felt like he belonged in my heart, and of course he wouldn't leave. I felt like he was my daddy, and I didn't want any other daddy.

I have felt a change, I know I am different -- so I know that was truly God.

At counseling today I became free. I have had a captive spirit for some years, since I decided to lock it up when it kept getting hurt. Having learned about captive and slumbering spirits, I am amazed at how many people must be captive or slumbering or both. This world has become so anti-family and devoid of true love that almost everyone flees into sleep or chains. The worst is when your spirit is awake, but captive; you can see how things are supposed to be and you know there is more to life, but you are trapped in your current existence. My spirit slept from time to time just because it hurt so much to be awake. But even when asleep, my apathy bothered me. and now I'm FREE! Liberated! Unchained! Unfettered! Free....

Virginia (my counselor) met with me alone (usually Ben and I counsel with Richard and Virginia) and we prayed together. She led me in prayers when I got lost, but mostly God healed/freed me through this vision...

There was an ocean, and I was in the bottom of the ocean. It was very clear, so even though it was extremely deep, the light shone through brightly. I was wearing a white flowy dress, and I could breathe the water. There was silver pieces all over the ground, and some were growing on plants. I was collecting the silver and playing with it. I knew that I had power all over the ocean; I could control who could come in and who couldn't and whether they could breathe underwater or not. I knew that Ben was on a dock and that God was above the water, but I couldn't let them in, even though I wanted to.

Virginia led me in a prayer to invite God in, but in the vision I went up to the surface and I couldn't go close enough to go through, and I didn't know how to let God in.

The scene switched, and I was in the old GA house. In the kitchen, doing the dishes, crying. I was crying because I was hurting and even though my parents knew about it, they did not care. To them, my feelings didn't matter, it was just my performance that mattered; as long as I did everything right, they didn't care. I could see my father in the next room at the computer with his back turned from me, and I knew my mother was in her bedroom.

Then Virginia led me in a prayer: she prayed that God would come in and show me the truth, and dispel the lie that how I felt was not important.

Then Jesus came out of my dad, and he hurried into the kitchen and held me and hugged me. Then he told me that I was important to him, that he loved me and that I was his heart. He said of course how I felt was important to him, because he feels what I feel – and I was comforted but still sad. Then he told me that he would hold me whenever I needed to be held. He took my hand and drew me into the living room, laid down on the couch, and pulled me on top of him, and curled me up in a little ball and held me. I felt so loved, safe, peaceful.

Then I was back in the ocean, and I went up to the dock where Ben was. When he saw my face, he got all excited and jumped in the water and we hugged. I was happy, and then all of a sudden I wanted to cry, because I wanted God with me, and I told Virginia that I wanted God to be my daddy and be with me all the time.

She led me in a prayer to kind of invite him, and he came into the water, came up to me, hugged me, and then broke chains (previously invisible) off of me and threw them away, telling me that he was going to take care of me and not let me be chained again.

Then there was a pause, and Virginia asked God to show me if he had anything else to say to me.

He told me that he would be my daddy and he would always stay with me and that I should come to him, not Ben, when I need to be held and he would hold me. I asked "how do I know you won't leave?" – so he immediately began to build a house out of light. I started helping him, adding silver. It was all done extremely quickly. The house was like a dome of light, really beautiful. It was one room, with a little table with three chairs, a kitchen area, and a little bed. A very simple house. But very beautiful. I needed to see that to know that he lived in my heart. Then he said that now not only would he be with me, but I could come visit him whenever I wanted. I felt so much more secure, because I felt like he belonged in my heart, and of course he wouldn't leave. I felt like he was my daddy, and I didn't want any other daddy.

I have felt a change, I know I am different -- so I know that was truly God.

At counseling today I became free. I have had a captive spirit for some years, since I decided to lock it up when it kept getting hurt. Having learned about captive and slumbering spirits, I am amazed at how many people must be captive or slumbering or both. This world has become so anti-family and devoid of true love that almost everyone flees into sleep or chains. The worst is when your spirit is awake, but captive; you can see how things are supposed to be and you know there is more to life, but you are trapped in your current existence. My spirit slept from time to time just because it hurt so much to be awake. But even when asleep, my apathy bothered me. and now I'm FREE! Liberated! Unchained! Unfettered! Free....

Virginia (my counselor) met with me alone (usually Ben and I counsel with Richard and Virginia) and we prayed together. She led me in prayers when I got lost, but mostly God healed/freed me through this vision...

There was an ocean, and I was in the bottom of the ocean. It was very clear, so even though it was extremely deep, the light shone through brightly. I was wearing a white flowy dress, and I could breathe the water. There was silver pieces all over the ground, and some were growing on plants. I was collecting the silver and playing with it. I knew that I had power all over the ocean; I could control who could come in and who couldn't and whether they could breathe underwater or not. I knew that Ben was on a dock and that God was above the water, but I couldn't let them in, even though I wanted to.

Virginia led me in a prayer to invite God in, but in the vision I went up to the surface and I couldn't go close enough to go through, and I didn't know how to let God in.

The scene switched, and I was in the old GA house. In the kitchen, doing the dishes, crying. I was crying because I was hurting and even though my parents knew about it, they did not care. To them, my feelings didn't matter, it was just my performance that mattered; as long as I did everything right, they didn't care. I could see my father in the next room at the computer with his back turned from me, and I knew my mother was in her bedroom.

Then Virginia led me in a prayer: she prayed that God would come in and show me the truth, and dispel the lie that how I felt was not important.

Then Jesus came out of my dad, and he hurried into the kitchen and held me and hugged me. Then he told me that I was important to him, that he loved me and that I was his heart. He said of course how I felt was important to him, because he feels what I feel – and I was comforted but still sad. Then he told me that he would hold me whenever I needed to be held. He took my hand and drew me into the living room, laid down on the couch, and pulled me on top of him, and curled me up in a little ball and held me. I felt so loved, safe, peaceful.

Then I was back in the ocean, and I went up to the dock where Ben was. When he saw my face, he got all excited and jumped in the water and we hugged. I was happy, and then all of a sudden I wanted to cry, because I wanted God with me, and I told Virginia that I wanted God to be my daddy and be with me all the time.

She led me in a prayer to kind of invite him, and he came into the water, came up to me, hugged me, and then broke chains (previously invisible) off of me and threw them away, telling me that he was going to take care of me and not let me be chained again.

Then there was a pause, and Virginia asked God to show me if he had anything else to say to me.

He told me that he would be my daddy and he would always stay with me and that I should come to him, not Ben, when I need to be held and he would hold me. I asked "how do I know you won't leave?" – so he immediately began to build a house out of light. I started helping him, adding silver. It was all done extremely quickly. The house was like a dome of light, really beautiful. It was one room, with a little table with three chairs, a kitchen area, and a little bed. A very simple house. But very beautiful. I needed to see that to know that he lived in my heart. Then he said that now not only would he be with me, but I could come visit him whenever I wanted. I felt so much more secure, because I felt like he belonged in my heart, and of course he wouldn't leave. I felt like he was my daddy, and I didn't want any other daddy.

I have felt a change, I know I am different -- so I know that was truly God.