Redesigning the Calendar (Dates and Ritual Symbols)

I have a zillion things to do this week and this post was half-finished. I had planned to post it in the middle of the week, as an extra, but decided to take the easy way out and use it for the 3/30 post. It may be boring for you but it was fun for me to work on it!

This is my first poll, and I had to do it four or five times to get it to work. I know WordPress is easy, but sometimes I find it a real challenge. And I took my car into the shop and then used Uber for the first time today and the key got stuck in the front door and I thought I would have to take Uber back to the shop and spend the day reading “Car and Driver” but I finally got the door open. As you might guess, I am neither technically nor mechanically talented.

One of the things I am doing this week is going to the International Society for the Study of Trauma and Dissociation’s annual conference and mingling with the famous and near-famous. I went to one about five years ago and was a nervous wreck because I felt like such an imposter among all those researchers and academics. This year I was all calm and collected until it occurred to me that I just happen to have a blue streak in my hair. Ack! So my mantra until the conference is over is “If they are shocked, that’s their problem, not mine.” Actually, I am starting to think it is funny.

By the way, the streak isn’t my fault. My granddaughter came for the weekend and made me do it. It didn’t take a lot of arm-twisting, though. (Manic Panic vegetable dye; doesn’t harm the hair, washes out after five or six shampoos – not.) I sometimes think I am reliving a life that was once defined by fear, depression, anxiety and chronic pain and I am now up to my early teens.


So on to the poll – hope you are impressed!



The poll closes on April 6.

The current calendar is above this post, all the way to the right.

Here is a month from an old calendar, for those of you who have not seen it and those of you who have forgotten what it looked like.

Significant Dates: 2013
•    N – Nazi, Neo-Nazi
•    P – pantheistic
•    S – Satanic

1/1 S New Year’s Day
1/5 P Shivaratri (night of Shiva creator/destroyer)
1/5 or 1/6 S Twelfth Night
1/6 P Dionysian Revels
1/6 P Kore gives birth/manifestation of divinity
1/6 S Epiphany
1/7 S St Winebald’s Day
1/11 S New moon
1/12 N Birth of both Rosenburg and Goering, Nazi leaders in WWII
1/13 S Satanic New Year
1/14 P Makar Sankranti: Hindu: Harvest Festival
1/17 S Feast of Fools (Old Twelfth Night) /Satanic and demon revels
1/18 S Old Epiphany
1/18 – 1/22 P Dream Festival (Pleiades)
1/20 S St. Agnes’ Eve
1/21 N Martin Luther King Day
1/26 S Full moon
1/26 N (starts evening of 1/25) Tu Bishvat (Jewish celebration of spring)
1/26 S? Australia Day
1/30 N Hitler named Chancellor of Germany

My Father’s Birthday

My father’s birthday is tomorrow. If he were alive he would be 108 years old. I simply cannot imagine that. I don’t think that’s odd; I doubt if anybody can imagine a parent living to 108.

I had a consistently unhappy relationship with my father.

For the first few years of my life, I hardly knew what he looked like, even though we all lived in the same apartment. He had not wanted children, and when my brother or I entered a room he was in, he was, he would get up and walk out. He just couldn’t bear to see us.

Years later, I understood. He had been abused like I was, and by many of the same people. Although he wasn’t aware of this, unconsciously he didn’t want to pass on the abuse. And I give him a lot a credit for that. But my mother yearned for children, and so my brother and I were born despite his wishes.

When he returned after the war, he showed interest in me. He thought I was bright and talented and that it was his position to correct the mistakes my teachers were making. If he saw something I wrote, he covered the page with dense red annotations. I had to rewrite it including all his corrections.

He also did intrusive sexual things to me. Dancing with me (and dancing too close). He instituted a formal kiss when we said hello or goodbye to either parent and held me really close when kissing me. Kisses on the cheek turned into kisses on the mouth and then to French kisses. As I got older, he did things like ask me to go to “Deep Throat” with him. He had never before suggested we go to a movie together.

That was the day life. Night life was, to say the least, not as delicate.

A the end of his life, he called me to him and said I was the only one he could trust to follow his wishes. He did not want extraordinary measures taken to prolong his life. However, he felt I needed to know that if I did what he wanted, it would be considered murder in the State we lived in. So I was given the choice of murdering him or of torturing him on his death-bed. Thanks, Dad! I did nothing, and he died shortly afterwards.

For many years I was enraged and wished he would die. When he actually did, I panicked. It felt like the world was about to end. I was afraid to go to his funeral, but my cousin gave me some tracks and I managed to get through it. I was a wreck for about two years afterwards.

Later, I figured out that he had wanted me to take over his role in the cult and that I needed to kill him to do so. No wonder I was such a mess.

As the years passed and I got more and more information about the hidden part of my life, I came to a different understanding of his behavior. In my mind, he changed from my persecutor to just another person who had been horribly harmed from childhood by the cult. Just another victim. My hatred diminished as my understanding grew.

Today, I feel really sad that he did not have the chance to remember and change his life. He tried, I know he tried, but he could not break the amnesia. There was no knowledge of the effects of childhood trauma, even severe trauma, in his life time. Nobody talked about it, nobody was aware of it. Nobody was a “survivor” — e.g., aware of their abuse. Nobody could meet another survivor and realize that they weren’t the only one.

I am so very grateful that ritual abuse is talked about today, even though it is often mocked and denigrated. If it were not for the influence of twelve-step programs and the women’s movement, nobody would have permission to talk about taboo personal experiences. They fostered an openness, a willingness to speak about previously unspeakable things.

And so, when my first memories came crashing over me, others were already talking about ritual abuse and multiplicity. On television, even. That gave me permission to take my memories seriously and gave me, instantly, a welcoming community. If my parents had lived to experience a community of ritual abuse survivors, who knows, they might have been able to renounce the cult and become survivors themselves.

If my father’s spirit is in a better place, I only hope he now knows he is no longer alone, has forgiven himself, and knows that my feelings toward him have changed completely.

Child of Truth

If somebody knows how to do a ping-back, could you please teach me? I wanted to do a ping-back of this wonderful poem, but couldn’t figure out how. It’s from

Child of Truth

To the children born to darkness
To the slaves waiting to be set free
To the ones holding on for dear life
Wondering if there’s hope anywhere at all
To the ones who’ve seen the lies
Since the days you were so small
They smile as they hurt
They tell you not to cry or you’ll be next
The hypocrisy, they put your Creator into your pain
They turn your tormentors into your saviors
Yet you still see the truth
Their world is lies, and you’ve always known
Listen to me, Listen, Child of Truth,
I thought there was no hope for me too
But you are not a slave, I am not a slave
And we are right, the world we were born into
is LIES, all LIES
And you are beautiful
And smart
And amazing
And your Creator smiles
At your questions
The questions that bring you punishment now
Will bring you freedom, Child of Truth
Don’t give up,
Don’t Die!
I am waiting for you!
There are many of us
Though we feel so alone
We will expose all their secrets
And freedom will be ours
Creator gave us a gift
To see through their lies
To shine light on their secrets
And bring freedom to the slaves
The generations coming after us,
Waiting for us, Waiting for Hope
Waiting for a hand to reach out to them
We have to survive this, Child of Truth
It hurts so bad we want to die, but we won’t
We won’t because Creator gave us a mission
We are going to free the slaves
Slaves, like we once were
We will be free one day, free for good
And we will bring hope to the others
I need you
They need you
Please don’t die
Stay with me
We will expose this together

(Jan 2, 2014)