Last evening a new friend and I were talking in detail about what has happened to me. This is the first time anyone has ever shown a real interest in understanding what’s been going on. And this is true even while I was passed through many hands of professionals who jobs it was help. All either ignored the elephant in the room or were not given to make report. The elephant in the room is what the doctor and his practice has done.
Not only did he and they act horrifically and illegally towards me, they knew what they were doing while they kept it going for years afterward. They have done it many times before to others, too. That is what I showed Judge McCullough when Multicare took me to court. He didn’t want to see it either. So the only problem for them was that, with me, I kept slipping out of the proverbial concrete boots they were trying to drown me with. And I kept coming to surface, gasping for air. From the time they had me raped I pretty much quit breathing. Have you ever tried living holding your breath? Its not easy.
Even worse, their cohorts thought what they were doing was fun and funny. Some who joined in along the way, like a fellow existentialist named Chris McNeil, introduced himself to me on Facebook. When Chris McNeil MHS spoke to me he said that the ones who did those terrible things were unprofessional because they busted open my emotional guts but didn’t know how to put me back together. Yep, I was Humpty Dumpty, for sure.
Therefore, he said, they ran for cover leaving me kind of “bleeding out” emotionally all over the place. I trusted him the same as I’ve tried to believe all of them along the way who were pretending they were trying to help me but really weren’t. For those who know what its like being gang raped, they all are no better than gang rapists going in for a piece of the action. They are filthy. Some say they go into mental “health” trying to cure themselves. I believe it.
Like with Frank, my massage therapist’s father who gaslighted me in a way that very much frightened and further spun me, in my weakened frame of mind I did not want to believe Frank would purposefully harm me. I did not want to believe all of these people would hurt me on purpose while listening to what I was telling them was being done to me! Along the way almost every single “professional” jumped on the band wagon to take me out. wow. All I can say is wow.
Even up until right the recent post I have never told anyone what Frank did. I have never even said his name until I said it last night to my new friend. I was protecting Frank’s integrity and privacy more than I was protecting myself. There are many things I haven’t shared with anyone about what they have done to me, because its just too much. And that’s the plan. They want to make it too much for us so that we kill ourselves. Its murder without picking up a weapon.
But, about Frank, this is the first I’ve told that part or even said his name. Did you notice in chapter “A Very Serious & Evil Enemy” that I never said his name? Now I am telling myself to say it. Why should I care about his reputation? He’s the one who killed a man. Not me. I didn’t deserve what he did to me for them to cover his own ass. I am tired of being loyal to people who have not deserved it .
They take a poke at me, like Christ McNeil did too. Than while I was hysterical, they’d run away laughing like the cowards they are, leaving me alone and emotionally bleeding out. Big men, huh?
So what’s in it for them? Well, we know for Frank he was being extorted. With Chris, he was the son of a cop. A system’s man, for sure. And he was a self proclaimed existentialist working on certifications and credentials.
If you have been following or are new to this, you may not know that it was an existential psycho analytical outfit and its professor who was hired by the doctor’s group finish me. “Cutiepie Sample, Sr.”
Of course I could not prove that. Only a professional could. There is enough in public records, though, written by me and given by them that proves they were doing a repeat with me. I will write more about that later, but from what the professor told me they were wanting to write about it. Probably from the poor, victimized doctor’s perspective. But, between all that got made public, at their own hands, my living to fill in the blanks is going to be more telling on them than exposing anything bad about myself.
I thought all of this craziness was posted here on WordPress, but I guess not. I guess it was all posted on Facebook, of which a lot has been deleted because I would trigger, than deactivate my account, feel isolated, reactivate it, and this cycle repeated over and over throughout the years. Than two computers melted down during the whole while, which cost me data on flash drives that so far videos, pictures of evidence and things I’d written along the way aren’t readable by this derelict computer I’m stuck with because right now I’m below poverty so I can’t do anything about retrieving it. Hopefully the technological handicaps will be corrected when I figure out how to monetize this matter. Then maybe I can post on youtube the videos from early on made while I was crying out for help.
As it has been, nobody really cared to help me, to delve into the details of what I’ve been trying to tell. That is until this new friend who has taken an interest in the story of my survival enough to ask what certain things mean. When I tell him he gets mad. Not at me, at them. Finally someone besides me and my mom is getting mad. Its all been since 2004, in the unraveling. And since that time Misty has died and so has Becky’s brother Rick. And now so has Chris Cornell died, too. But we all know its thousands and thousands more people who are being killed and destroyed by their experimenting on us with those drugs, and these doctors are making it look like its our fault, when it isn’t.
Last night I told my new friend I want to destroy them. In reality I want to destroy what they are doing. If that means to destroy them, then so be it. They do not care that they are destroying us. They only care for their money, power and their egos. Now I am going to take them out. Because I was never mentally ill, and I was always only the result of what people were doing to me.
Like art depicts life, today I am still as if I’m in the 2005 Covington Rotary’s Haunted House’s murderous Multicare surgical room I’d built back then.
“LOOK WHAT THEY ARE DOING! PLEASE HELP! LOOK WHAT THEY ARE DOING!”
Lori Gregg knows about this. But she ran away too. Probably Nicole Summers knows too. And everyone ran away. I can’t say that I blame them. Everyone loves their doctors, and the reality is scary that the doctors know what they are doing. Their skill is in making killing us appear to others like its fun and like they are just trying to help.
It isn’t fun or funny, and I “feel” like “they” keep trying to get a laugh out of me from it. That’s not going to happen. I am taking them down, so they won’t be laughing anymore.
RIP Misty. RIP Rick. RIP Chris Cornell, and the thousands of others they’ve killed. This is for all of us!
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