This post contains conversations about domestic abuse, rape, and trauma. It may be triggering for some. Please use the link below if you or someone you know needs help. If you are in immediate danger if you can find a neighbor or dial 911.
Keep Going…You Can Do It
Pamela and Peter Freyd, created the False Memory Foundation to support their claims of innocence after the husband of their adult daughter, Professor Jennifer Freyd, privately accused Peter Freyd of sexually abusing her when she was a child.-International Society For The Study Of Trauma and Disassociation
False Memories. Memories of events that didn’t actually happened, are allegedly pure, full fledged, fully formed memories, of events, places, and people, that either don’t exist, or never happened.
Allegedly, if you believe in this bullshit, it’s a trauma response, but how can it be a trauma response, when the events in the memories apparently never happened?
When I started my Cannabis journey, I honestly thought I was just going to do something to help me deal with the trauma, because I knew that I had a lot of hidden memories, and I knew I needed something to cushion the blow.
I knew that I needed something to help me soften what I was about to go through, because I knew that I had been lying to myself for a lot of years, but I also knew from my experience working with people who deal with addiction issues, that I didn’t want to start drinking. I knew if I picked up a bottle, I would never put it down again.
That was my biggest concern, “I do not want to become addicted to drugs and alcohol.” So I picked cannabis because I knew that it wasn’t nearly as addictive as alcohol, but that’s all I knew about it. I had no idea how deeply personal and powerful, my cannabis journey was going to go.
Shortly after I started smoking cannabis, I started opening up about the sexual abuse that I have experienced throughout my life. Sure I started with the last time I was gang raped, and yes, that genuinely drove me crazy, and I said things that were true, but that I none the less regret having said the way that I said them.
“Herb is the healing of a nation, alcohol is the destruction.”
― Bob Marley
I also said things that were true, but no one believed me. The police, the doctors, no one in my life believes that I have survived as much as I have survived, and every time I try to let people in and tell them, they either walk away, push me away, or find ways to discredit me so that they don’t have to deal with what it is that I am saying.
Growing up when I would tell people that adults were touching me, they constantly reiterated the story of the Boy Who Cried Wolf, and so I stopped talking about it, but it did not stop happening.
Because no one in this country wants to acknowledge that child abuse is as bad as it is. I have been sexually abused, and raped, and beaten up, more than a hundred times in my life, usually by white boys or men, but there’s a few colored guys in there too.
When you look at a victim and tell her that you “believe, they believe,” it’s not the same thing as saying you “believe” them when they tell you what happened. And here’s the rub, until recently, the False Memory Foundation, was devoted to proving that victims of sexual abuse were liars, who made up their stories, in an effort to make them look crazy, insane, or psychotic.
And do you know why? Because the man who started the foundation, was a fucking pedophile who sexually abused his own child. So knowing what we do about predators, and how much they get off not on the initial abuse, but on the retraumatizing events that come after, why do we keep refusing to believe victims of sexual assault?
This man went so far as to set up an entire foundation, to discredit his own daughter, nee victim, and he had the support of his wife, and doctors across the entire world.
For the last year or so specifically, I’ve been pulling a part the layers of my brain, and I have seen some of the most horrible, awful, evil memories, steeped in “how the fuck did she survive?” She, being me.
If you think you’re standing on the outside of my brain, and you’re surprised that I have LITERALLY fought homicidal maniacs, and sexual deviants, since I was two years old, and am still alive, that is nothing compared to how I feel.
I am shook, and shocked, and I keep getting thrown off my kilter. Last night I had a memory recovery session – that’s what I am calling them now, and I remembered myself at three or four playing bobbing apples at a neighbors place. The water was cold, and I didn’t want to do it, and I can feel someone holding my face in the water, for much, much too long, repeatedly pulling my head up just to dunk me back under again.
It wasn’t fun, and it wasn’t I do not think, intended to be, but the adults that were there just stood around and laughed and laughed. As a child in the 80s and 90s, you’ll remember bobbing for apples at least once in your life I am sure. It’s gross, everyone’s spit is collected in a big barrel filled with ice cold water, and you’re supposed to keep ducking your head into the water to catch an apple. For what purpose? Adults were fucking morons back then, that’s why.
I remember now, and every time I pull out one memory, another one surfaces to remind me that no, I am not done, that I will probably never stop remembering all the times that adults were awful, evil, cruel, mean, abusive, selfish, manipulative, and downright psychotic to me, because they chose to use the color of my skin, as an excuse to hurt me. (Or because the day ended in Y, the sky was blue, black or brown, and oh by the way ADULTS ARE FUCKING FUCKED UP HUMAN BEINGS.)
I keep thinking, “one day I am going to find someone who believes me, and then all the bad guys are going to go wherever bad guys go when they do the bad, dark, and gross things.” -Devon J Hall
One day just never comes. There is no knock on my door telling me that it’s over, no one to say “okay Devon, you can stop remembering now, you can just be,” and every memory is worse than the last, because my brain is working backwards to right all the pieces that were tipped over when I lost my God damned mind.
The problem with the lies of science, is that every lying piece of shit can find at least 1 person to agree with them, even if that 1 person knows that the liar is in fact lying. There is always an excuse, be it money, or desire, that allows someone to choose to believe the lies, and to help spread them.
Thus the False Memory Foundation didn’t just cause problems for Professor Jennifer Freyd, it caused problems for every single victim of sexual abuse who has ever reported, or ever will report, sexual abuse.
Even the Doctors who say you are believed, who tell you that you are safe, have doubts, they may not voice those doubts, but they have doubts, because they can’t fathom that anything like you can exist.
That doesn’t mean that you don’t exist, it means that the people who are listening to your story, can’t understand how you did it, because they have no idea of what it takes to survive childhood sexual abuse the way that you do.
The world can’t see your spots, because you are a Black Panther, and you always have been. You have or have thought of, getting a Black Panther on your shoulder, or your chest, because you know this is your spirit animal. This is the animal that empowers strength, majick, and power, you are able to hide in your surroundings not because you were taught to, but because you were born to.
You are an Actor, a Teacher, A Scientist, A CIA Agent a Soldier, you are whatever the fuck you have to be, to survive, and the world doesn’t understand you.
Black Panther symbolizes courage, valor, beauty, grace, challenge, feminine power, and rites of passage. Black Panther is a courageous guardian, blessed with ancient maternal lunar power, who is drawn towards solitary people. Fierce feminine power resides within you.
The people who started the False Memory Syndrome Foundation, and the cult they created around the world, filled with abusers, pedophiles, rapists, and anyone else wishing to cause you harm because you exist, are going to Hell, that’s a fact. They know they are going to Hell, and they have absolutely no hope, that’s why they are so completely and utterly evil.
YOU however, are filled with hope, YOU are filled with strength, and no you are not fucking graceful all the God damned time. Sometimes you’re chilling in a hammock and other times you’re hanging ass backwards and upside down naked in a tree, that’s life, an abuser told me that once.
He wasn’t wrong, trauma does that to you, it knocks you off kilter, and that doesn’t mean that your trauma is just sexual abuse. Do you know how many Soldiers sign up because they want to save the world? Only to be blinded by the absolute horror that this world has to offer?
Sometimes just witnessing evil, can destroy your life, your trauma is valid, and so are your memories, even if everyone around you wants you to believe that your trauma is a lie, it’s only because they need to believe that it’s a lie, so they feel better.
You do NOT have to live a life that makes OTHER people comfortable. Dye your hair a dozen colors, get tattoos, wear rainbow clothes every day of the year, dress like the God or Goddess you believe you want to be, and let the world know that YOU my friends, are a Black Panther, strong, powerful, courageous, wise, and absolutely lethal when you need to be.
You are going to be okay, you are going to be amazing, and the world is supposed to be afraid of you. That’s why it keeps trying to destroy you, remind this world that you were not born to be destroyed, you were born to rule.
Sending all my love,
Devon J Hall
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