Mind Control By: Lori j Loesch


I had written in my last blog that maybe a survivor of abuse shouldn’t become a mom, and yet by the end of that blog I realized that my kids are pretty awesome, and I must have done something right.  There are times when I think that I am not the best person to be giving advice, because my childhood, teens and early adulthood was not normal.  My moral compass was assaulted.  Leaving me at a loss, at times when my children need advice.  

I have been looking into mind control, and I happened on a site that talks about powerful people, selecting children, from a very early age to use in mind control.  These people are wealthy, aristocratic, powerful people.  My family, growing up, was anything but wealthy, aristocratic, or powerful, and yet they possessed all of this over me.  I don’t believe they planned to control me, but in order to keep the secret buried, they did.  I always felt like they were watching me.  As if  people reported back, to them, the things  I did.  I have to say that it has haunted me to this very day.  I still feel as though I am being watched, even when there is no one around, and I live in the middle of a wooded area, with no neighbors.  It’s ridiculous!  I was shoveling off the deck, when I stopped, I took off my glove  to put it into my pocket, when I felt something.  I couldn’t make out, without looking at it, what was in my coat pocket, and I stood there, looking up into the trees, until I figured out just what it was.  I always carry a pocket knife in my pocket, but today a lighter joined the knife.  Case solved.  Then I had the feeling that someone may be looking at me wondering what I was doing.  “What were you doing, standing, staring into the sky like that?”, might be their question to me.  What a stupid thought!  There is no one within miles of me, unless someone is standing in two feet of snow, behind a tree!  What makes me feel this way?  I do the same thing when driving in the car and I want to smoke a cigarette.  I wait until there are no cars, or houses around, before I light up.  I’m fifty-two years of age, if I want to smoke a cigarette, I dam well will!  Why do I worry what people will think?  Why do I care that it doesn’t look good for a lady to smoke?  I rarely, ever smoke in a public place.  I will take a hit from my husband’s cigarette, when we’re out and about.  It’s not even about smoking being bad for me, it’s that my grandmother and mother wouldn’t like it if I were seen smoking.  They made me a nervous wreak!  I finally figured that out.  Thirty years ago, my grandmother got a small dog.  A shih Tau.  They are, by nature, nervous.  She was having trouble with the dog, I think it was throwing up a lot.  My favorite aunt, married to my mother’s brother, said that it was my grandmother’s fault the dog was sick, because she follows it around, just waiting for it to make a mistake.  She’s making the dog nervous, and physically sick.  If she did this to a tiny dog, then she did it to a tiny, girl, that HAD to keep the secret.  My family was always watching me, keeping me close, so that if I said something, they could do damage control.  And, they did.  

In their own misguided way they controlled me.  They changed the way I interpreted the world.  They made me a nervous wreak.  You would think that by my age, I would have outgrown this,  I haven’t.  I just realized it.  I never knew the extent of their control over me.  I  listened to a story of a man that picked up a chicken, plucked out it’s feathers, while the chicken was in pain, then set it on the ground and scattered a trail of corn, in which the chicken, followed it’s abuser.  It doesn’t make any sense, but this is what was done to me and all the little children, being abused.  We look to the very people that hurt us, for food, clothes, and a roof over our heads.  

I made motherhood more difficult and stressful, trying not to be like my mother, grandmother and all the other family members that raised me.  I beat myself up for normal things that normal people do everyday, just trying not to be them.  I wish I would have had a better view of what a normal family looked like.  With all the abuse in the news, I’m not sure there are normal families out there.  

I’m going to continue on, picking myself up.  My children will learn from the struggles that I am challenged with, and for that they will be stronger.  I never thought that my upbringing would have found its way into my life as a mother, but it did.  I am glad I became a mom, and I know that it was Gods will.  

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