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Table of contents
This programming was appealing and useful to perverse politicians who believed they could hide their actions deep within my memory compartments, which clinicians refer to as personalities. VanderJagt later became a U. Congressman and eventually chairman of the Republican National Congressional Committee that put George Bush in the office of President. I was prostituted to VanderJagt after numerous local parades which he always participated in, at the Mackinac Island Political Retreat, and in my home state of Michigan, among other places.
My Uncle Bob helped my father decorate my bedroom in red, white, and blue paneling and American flags.
He provided assistance in scrambling my mind according to Project Monarch methodologies. Fairy tale themes were used to confuse fantasy with reality, particularly Disney stories and the Wizard of Oz , which provided the base for future programming. I had personalities for pornography, a personality for bestiality, a personality for incest, a personality for withstanding the horrendous psychological abuse of my mother, a personality for prostitution, and the rest of "me" functioned somewhat "normally" at school. My "normal" personality provided a cover for the abuse I was enduring, but best of all it had hope- hope that there was somewhere in the world where people did not hurt each other.
AMERICAN INDIAN LIFE
This same personality also attended Catechism, a weekly class at our Catholic church, St. Francis de Sales in Muskegon, Michigan.
My Catechism teacher was a Nun, or "Sister. I could not rely upon my family, the police, or politicians to protect me. The church appeared to be my answer, and I listened diligently in class and prayed religiously.
I learned all about the political structure of the church, and was prepared for my first Confession , The Catholic beliefs I was taught include the idea that man is not fit to talk to God the Father directly, but must have a priest intercede instead. This is the purpose of going to Confession. I was instructed to tell my sins to the priest also referred to as Father , who would relay the message to God. He would then supposedly tell me how many "Hail Marys" and "Our Father" prayers to say as my penance, or punishment.
My Catechism teacher gave the class several examples of "sins," which included "sex outside of marriage. That night, my father had a talk with me. Apparently he was the "Father" that the priest had interceded to. My father instructed me that "from now on," I was to simply say "I disobeyed my parents" when I went to Confession and nothing more! The next time I went to Confession, I did exactly as I was told. The veiled screen came off the Confessional partition between me and the priest, and a penis was stuck through the window, " God said that your penance is to treat me as you would your father.
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My teacher scolded me for taking so long and told me to add a few extra "Our Fathers" to my penance. When I told her I already did my penance, she told me again the "order of things" to the Confessional ritual — which did not fit anything I had just experienced! Without ever consciously knowing why, I abandoned the idea of becoming a Nun as that part of me, too, split off from what was left of my "normal" base personality.
I continued to maintain an illusion of normalcy for school, 5 excelling in my studies due to my photographic memory and in spite of my chronic "day-dreaming". I had plenty of friends and played enthusiastically at recess, expending large amounts of energy in my subconscious effort to escape my own mind. And I lost myself in the books my father suggested I read: the Wizard Of Oz, Alice In Wonderland, Island of the Blue Dolphins, Disney Classics, and Cinderella—all of which were used in conditioning my mind for what soon would become mind-control programming.
At the end of the parade, he took me into a nearby motel and had me per- form oral sex on him before sending me back to where my Brownie Troop was waiting. My Brownie leader and peers thought it commendable that VanderJagt took me with him. They gathered around to hear all about it. I noticed a white splash of semen on my sash, and hurriedly explained that he had "taken me for a milkshake" as I wiped it away. Having to cover for his perversion to my Brownie Troop infringed on my school personality, and the "normal" remainder became even smaller. With the memory of this incident compartmentalized in my mind.
I made so conscious association to VanderJagt when my third grade teacher announced that we were taking a field trip to the State Capital in Lansing, Michigan where he was in session. Once at the Capital, I was ushered away from my classmates and taken to an office where he was waiting with his friend and mentor soon to be President Gerald Ford. VanderJagt lifted my skirt, pulled down my panties, and placed me on his desk for sex with him and Ford.
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Afterward they laughed as VanderJagd placed a small American flag in my rectum and instructed me to wave it. He then presented me with a Kennedy pen inscribed with the motto that would lead me for the rest of my mind-con- trolled existence, " Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask what you can do for your country. He put his arm around me in front of all my classmates and presented me with the American Flag he had just had me wave for him and Ford with my rectum.
I could not remember what I was seeking to escape. It is a way of dealing with trauma that is literally too horrible to comprehend. Incestuous rape violates primitive instinct and surpasses pain tolerance. By compartmentalizing the memory of such horrendous abuse, the rest of the mind can function "normally" as though nothing had happened. This compartmentalization is created by the brain actually shutting down neuron pathways to a specific part of the brain.
These neuron pathways are triggered open again when the abuse recurs.
The same part of the brain that is already conditioned to the trauma deals with it again and again as needed. Several years later, he almost killed himself when he drove his car into the White River near the place of the murder. Kennedy while I knew him only as a porn boss! Dissociative trance daydreaming, tones of helplessness and sexuality in drawings, and the electric prod marks on my face should have been recognized.
This fact emerged through years of networking with mental health professionals. Francis of Assisi Church waiting for the ceremony to commence when Guy VanderJagt , who was affiliated with the church, strode across the lawn towards me. Crouching down on one knee, VanderJagt said, "You look beautiful today. You are as beautiful as your name.
Cathleen is Gaelic for "the pure," and it is clear to me that you are flawless in your purity. Ann means "grace". It is by the grace of God , not your actions, that you are pure. Pure at heart. You are covered by the blood of our Lord and Savior, just like the cross on which he hung. This is for you.
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Like the Kennedy inscribed pen he had presented me with at the state capital, the meaning behind the rosy cross necklace would lead me through the rest of my mind-con trolled existence. It was to be worn in conjunction with the rosy cross "to symbolize your service to the holy Catholic church," Father Don told me, which I would "promise to serve and obey". As VanderJagt fastened the rosy cross and blue virgin around ray neck, he told me I was now dressed appropriately for the ceremony in red, white, and blue.
When Father gives you the host, it will stick to the roof of your mouth unless you suck it off his thumb. I hurried to line up with my Catechism classmates for the procession into the church for our holy communion mass. After services, VanderJagt and Father Don talked with me briefly while my parents congregated with other parishioners. Father was telling me, " God has chosen you for work within his holy church. You are a Chosen One, 1 my child He talked with my father awhile, but spent most of his time talking with my Uncle Bob, who had recently flown in from "a mission over seas".
My Uncle Bob and VanderJagt were friends, and remained so throughout the years.