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Slowly Learning To Deal With the Truth About My Alien Abductions (1987 – 1988)
The flying trip towards a “blue star” in the sky that ended up being a 7+ hour long overnight abduction, including at least a 20 minute segment involving going up a ramp in some sort of alien city towards a mini-mountain cave looking place, through flat lightning, only to get an implant burned through my skin and skull— was the last event of its kind for many months as far as I could tell. A spectacular place to leave off, certainly! But then, like much of this phenomenon, the incidents stopped as abruptly as they began without warning.
My life was slowly improving, but severe damage had been inflicted. I could not sleep without full light AND a TV droning in the background, for instance. Certain things could send me right back into full panic mode. I could no longer bear to be watched or looked at with any attention. Being out in public bothered me, but if I felt anonymous enough, I could get by. But even the slight confrontation required for a transaction at a check-out counter proved too much for me at times. I had all the symptoms of Avoidant Personality Disorder for many years, and for some situations Social Phobia (until maybe I was 25 or 26, and it took a LOT of determination to stop fearing The Gaze of Others.) Being singled out by a teacher for any reason could do it. Eventually, I realized that this was actually a by-product of trauma from dealing with telepathic beings. I felt my privacy was so stripped away by contact with these aliens that I felt exposed and feared exposure even to the gaze of quite normal human beings. Nightmares with eyes haunted my dreams. People complain about feeling so alone and misunderstood, and yet to lose that precious privacy is not an easy thing to adjust to! Add all that to a sensitive adolescent who was already bullied both at home and at school and you can imagine that daily life was quite the misery for me back then.
The obvious things bothered me, too, of course:
~ Anything dental/mouth related, dental chairs, and especially dentists
~ Anything gynecological, exam tables with stirrups, and especially gynecologists
Any medical process that involved me being prone or inclined back with official medical/dental personnel leaning over me STILL to this day sends me into complete panic. I hyperventilate, my heart rate and blood pressure go nuts, I turn red, and I start crying. Eventually, the fear (as I know from being hooked up to heart monitors a few times) sends my heart into a total tizzy– beating too hard, too fast, and off rhythm. I now use tranquilizers to even get into the office to prepare to have such procedures done, or I can't do it. I run, I attack anyone who tries to stop me, and just in general lose my freaking mind. So much for dignity! Only good thing is– after seeing this reaction in me once, I scare the medical people! They're only too happy to assist me pharmacologically. Still, I have difficulty not neglecting regular check-ups of this nature. A routine illness or regular check-up is tense for me but I can get through it okay– until I'm required to “open up” and “lay back.” Then all bets are off.
The sexual reproduction agenda explains the fear of related procedures with doctors. But I've often wondered about the mouth part of it. I mean, I remember things being put in my ears, up my nose, and even involving my eyes, but ears-nose-throat doctors don't freak me out much at all. There may be more to that… but I'll explore that further in another post. Regardless, I suspect that the simple required surrender of a dental procedure is enough to be a trigger. Its not the needle, or the drill, or anything like that I fear so much as the DENTIST or DOCTOR themselves. I don't trust them, I don't want to trust them, and I don't want to face dealing with myself in their presence. I've been working to improve this part of my maniac fear for years without success, and now I don't want to fight it anymore. I drug myself into compliance and get on with life. Some things seem nearly impossible to overcome, and these medical things happen infrequently enough that I'm not motivated to torture myself any longer simply to be “normal” again someday. I accept– nay, embrace!– that I am just a freak in some areas. So be it.
Other common fears for an abductee:
~ Being alone or the only person awake ANYWHERE at night (they put all potential witnesses to sleep quite often)
~ White people with oddly slanted eyes– (like, Aimee Mann comes to mind)
White people have eyes that tend to go straight across or slant down on the outside. When they slant up, they look like… If they are skinny, have high cheekbones, blond hair, and a lackluster expression combined with a penetrating gaze-? YIKES! And THEN on TOP of that if they wear all black, let alone turtlenecks?
Aimee Mann, singer, musician, songwriter– is guilty of all of these things, bless her artistic, passionate heart.
https://www.google.com/search?q=aimee+ma
However, not all panic attack triggers were so easily explained. Often weird things for which I had no answers could make me feel unreasoning terror. Over the years, here is only a partial list of those things I found myself freaking out over for no reason I could fathom (at least until memory returned or another incident occurred that could easily apply to the past as well):
~ Cooking in kitchens if anyone else was around
~ Being expected to touch an infant or small child
~ Eggs in their broken and raw state (especially that little bit of tissue that looks an umbilical cord…)
~ All white rooms, especially if the furniture was white, gray, or black (the monochromatic color schemes of the 80s drove me nuts)
~ Skinny men in black cowboy hats (that was was from the incident when I was 11, but for years I didn't remember)
~ People suddenly jerking around to look at me, or overly exaggerated “double-takes”
~ Sudden silences in nature or outside in a neighborhood (oh look! ”the Oz effect” trigger!)
Over the years, I seemed to be accumulating more and more odd phobias out of the blue, but at last I had an inkling where they were probably coming from. They took over my life late at night and at times briefly during the day as well.
Eventually, ennui led to a softening of my crazed and obsessed nightly ritual of holding myself hostage to keep “them” at bay. My 17th year managed to be blissfully uneventful supernaturally speaking. In my personal life, I was still struggling to hold it together and failing much of the time. My grades which began so poorly, began to meander back up and I stopped crying at the slightest provocation and continuing for hours. As mundane month after mundane month passed with only my crazy family and harsh peers to torment me, I managed to to reacquire some semblance of sanity again.
1986 and '87 I was utterly avoidant of any and all things alien or UFO related in the media. I began hearing, rather coincidentally, of some new books and stories about abductions, but I didn't dare read any book about it or watch any programs on TV. I didn't trust myself to be able to handle it. As the trauma of the summer of '86 began to fade (though still with some triggers causing panic attacks) another set of emotions began to creep up into my psyche: anger and curiosity. They were tiny contrary things, peeping out in fits and spurts– utterly at odds with the rest of my neurotic self.
When over a year had passed without further incident, I began to think I might be “in the clear” for a while, and I really, really wanted some answers! And I was just SICK of being scared all the fucking time!
Sometime in late 1987 I was in a store somewhere and saw a book by Budd Hopkins, Intruders: The Visitations At Copley Woods. I actually saw Communion later, though more of a media frenzy surrounded that book. My first instance of seeing a grey somewhere besides my bedroom or on a ship was on the cover of Intruders. I picked it up and read the back– and I was struck. All the UFO alien encounters I had ever heard of until that time were about (seemingly) random events in cars on the road. Never in bedrooms and homes repeatedly throughout life. But the book told of a different sort of alien abduction– a scenario that now seems cliche. But back in the late 80s, it was still novel: aliens that came back again and again to their “chosen one's” home. Wow.
Then I opened the book and thumbed through to the photos and illustrations, and saw line drawings of not only greys, but of a hybrid human/alien toddler, and my heart did a flip flop. I closed the book with a snap and bought it.
It took me months to read it. Not to start reading it — I did that right away. But I would open it, read a few pages, come to a bit that matched some small detail that was also true for me, and I'd have a… reaction. A very strong, disturbed, reaction. I would have to face all over again the likely reality of this aspect of my life, denial became a little harder with every weird coincidental detail. So I'd have to stop for a few days just to absorb, and come to a point of acceptance for what I'd read. Then I'd steel myself and open the book again… until I reached the next coincidental detail. Some things mentioned I had no memory of, but the descriptions of these things freaked me out on a level I couldn't explain easily. There was an extreme familiarity to so many things…
By the mid-spring of 1988, the abduction pattern events returned. And when they did, my period– which had become very regular as I matured– disappeared again. This time I suspected why and what was going to happen. I wasn't happy about it, but I wasn't panicked. I was rather resigned, and in some real dread, but determined to get through the next round.
And at the point where I had finished high school, I was so desperate to get away from my parents and so in longing to be in nature, and so adamant about getting over my new found fear of children– that I signed up to be a Girl Scout Residence Camp Counselor for the summer.
2012-08-29 03:08:53
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