Dedicated to Sidnie Smart, R.I.P.

Sidnie Smart, R.I.P.

from 

"Cookie" her Cat, her only Love

I dream of death.

For he desires Me.

I finally found depth of Soul,

I found the Well so Deep.

The depth, it pours.

A pool of Gold!

The blue, the Warmth,

The Home I miss so much.

Death dreams of me.

K.A.P. 2/2009

Principle = Doubt <> Belief

To develop a quality set of principles takes the understanding and the ability to face your own doubts as well as confronting your beliefs. Principles seem to be based on the sobriety of One's mind, the actions of One's behavior and the solidarity of One being true too.

I was very doubtful that I could ever recover from the events of my childhood. Although I always had the belief that one day it would solve itself. These troubling events seem to have haunted me in my Adult Life.  In a rather severe nature, it has persisted with Flashbacks, with People, however I am still a life. I am often stifled with fear and completely overcome with anxiousness or terror. I am with every waking moment, with every fiber of my being, facing this entire life of that I have been so fortunate to have lived, Head-on. I refuse to give-up on the dream of a peaceful life without Fear or Terror occupying my Mind's space. Yet, I am plagued with my own doubt that I may not be successful in this endeavor. Providing my self with Self-reflection to bring about this change.

Ever since I was a child I have dreamed that life could be beautiful, if I could only settle my thoughts. It seems like I am constantly running from something, but the problem is "the something". In my case I was horribly abused at the hands of my mother. She went for counseling in the seventies where she received some prescription medicine for her problem. Upon returning home on that very day so long ago, the parishioners surrounded her to support her in the days appeal. When she informed them of the outcome and opinion of the doctor, they rose as one and pronounced the doctor wrong. They, being the congregation, said that she did not need to take this medication and that there was nothing wrong with her. The congregational "friends" said that the diagnosis was incorrect and that this was a direct attack from the devil and prayer in open Hallelujahs was the answer. The medication was flushed down the commode and she never returned to the shrink that had helped her so much on that day. I was there for the entire scheduled appointment. I remember the Doctor saying to me, "your Mom is going to feel better very soon". I never spoke much as a child, but the kindness on that day for a woman that was out of control and miserable in her life is sunk deep in my memory.

My entire life, since I was eighteen I have taken anti-anxieties for my problem; panic attacks. I had tried anti-depressants but they did not work for me. A few years ago after loosing my home and being at zero dollars in my bank account I applied and received Medi-cal.  I went and asked for counseling, as the flashbacks had become overwhelming.  I asked for anti-anxieties and they refused to give them to me quoting " they are addictive".  I told the Doctors that it was the only thing that ever helped me get through very troubling moments in my mind.  I was told that I was incorrect and that my earlier doctors only gave me this because they wanted to make me happy by giving me what I wanted.  The Doctor went on to say, " We have taken an oath and will not do what a patient wants, we will do what we are trained to do".  This took place at a public health facility called "The Petaluma Health"  in Petaluma, CA.   

Also, the counseling from this place in the Mental Health office did not tell me I only would receive 12 visits and after that you are meant to deal with your problem on your own by not thinking about it.  Now if you have a meltdown or a flare-up then its dealt with on a case by case study, however we have no real budgeting for more than the twelve sessions.  Of course, my counselor, Ulla did not tell me this until my tenth visit and just after I had opened this very large can of worms in my mind about a gang rape I suffered through as a kid.  It was a nightmare and I doubted that I would survive this one.  To begin to speak on a subject at the encouragement of your counselor to get things out in the open for her to just turn and say well we have two more sessions was a little two much.  She also told me I was not unique and that believing in magic was a childish view.  I never went back and lived from then till now in the nightmare of this gang rape stuck in my head.

I have continued to march on somehow.  In my mothers case and upon her friends telling her that the shrink was the devil casting out the influence of Satan upon her life, she founded a church. I guess I could have done this for myself, LOL. Her friends became the parishioners she needed and the progressive support required to not be noticed by the public for your obvious oddities.  She ended up surrounding herself with these type of people that possessed no principles and felt unabashed in her belief of false health.  She has been on her merry way in her life ever since.

For years I harbored so much resentment about all that surrounded that very day.  The frustration and anger comes from the point of no return.  For over forty years this ministry of hers has been flowing.  When these people, parishioners and/or friends had had enough of this cult of my mothers, they just packed up, one be one collecting their families and drove off into the night.  They just left me in this madness as they all have gone on with their lives.  Do they take heed to the decision and proclamation of their own voices on that important day, I don't think they even remember it. They just turn a blind eye and say that they are glad that they are no longer caught up in the insanity of the church.  The saddest state of affairs, took place, when upon the exit of one person the entry of another would conveniently arrive.  Where are the principles people so freely speak of?, for I have seen none growing-up. Nor have I seen them in my adult life in this matter.  For obviously the cycle will never end for my mother, for one persons demise is the liberty of another to step to the drummers beat and arise to the occasion of being her new best friend.   Ugg!

I had so much doubt about out living this constant frustration with people infiltrating my life.  The stories that my mother tells them are collected in the imagination and minds of whomever is her active friend of the day.  Whereas I become exhausted and the people that drop out run away from this scene and are barely able to hold onto life, these new rested beings are quite excited about handling, disciplining and teaching her out of control offspring  on a daily basis.  I doubted this would ever end, I was correct, it never did and now it is worse.  All I could do is believe in this one simple fact for myself. At forty, the magical age of accounting for missing information it seems, I will have a slim chance to confront this abscess. This is due to Natures forced opinion that you shall recall your defaults and deal with the disappointments in your life thus far before you may continue on any venue of life as you knew it. This is not represses memory syndrome, this is called Natural Law and is run efficiently by creation itself. This is a strong belief of mine, "I will survive"!!

I doubt you will understand. However you must!  I could not leave my mothers home until I was eighteen.  Did you know that regardless of how hard you try to put all the past down and keep it behind you it doesn't work?  The problem is that your family whom caused all of this havoc can never be forgotten and you can never get away, no matter how hard you try.  I had no one to talk to about the truth of this matter. I was the child of a mother who ran a cult. I was totally screwed.  Either everybody hates you because your mother is psycho and is such an awful human being they are now afraid of her. Or you are looked at by people that you hold a grudge against your family and should forgive them. Saying, "nothing could be that bad", grant it I never told them anything.  I just said I did not get along with my family. Those people would tell me that I lacked in principles and they doubted that I had been raised to be so sorted in my views of God, religion, life, etc.  Don't worry, as soon as those people met my mother or family they would try to apologize to me, or they would just disappear and I would never hear from them again.  Wow, they are so brave. I have never seen people exit stage left so fast in my life as when this happens.

I doubt so much and believe in much less, but I do know that I work on being a person of principles.  I work on this each and every day so that I do not adversely effect other people with negative energy from myself or my opinions.


The definition of doubt, belief and principle is very important to know and/or become familiar with in your life today.  I believe that if you do not know doubt personally and you do not know about your beliefs personally than you are incapable of possessing any principle, not a one. Let alone being capable of saying that you have any principles to stand on. For the familiarity of both doubt and belief are equal than and less than one another, leaving you what equals out to be, your own principles in the end. It must be, especially after I read the definition of all three.

doubt

 /daʊt/ Show Spelled[dout] Show IPA

–verb (used with object)

1.

to be uncertain about; consider questionable or unlikely; hesitate to believe.

2.

to distrust.

3.

Archaic . to fear; be apprehensive about.

–verb (used without object)

4.

to be uncertain about something; be undecided in opinion or belief.

–noun

5.

a feeling of uncertainty about the truth, reality, or nature of something.

be·lief

 /bɪˈlif/ Show Spelled[bih-leef] Show IPA

–noun

1.

something believed;  an opinion or conviction: a belief that the earth is flat.

2.

confidence in the truth or existence of something not immediately susceptible to rigorous proof: a statement unworthy of belief.

3.

confidence; faith; trust: a child's belief in his parents.

4.

a religious tenet or tenets; religious creed or faith: the Christian belief.

prin·ci·ple

 /ˈprɪnsəpəl/ Show Spelled[prin-suh-puhl] Show IPA

–noun

1.

an accepted or professed rule of action or conduct: a person of good moral principles.

2.

a fundamental, primary, or general law or truth from which others are derived: the principles of modern physics.

3.

a fundamental doctrine or tenet; a distinctive ruling opinion: the principles of the Stoics.

4.

principles, a personal or specific basis of conduct or management: to adhere to one's principles; a kindergarten run on modern principles.

5.

guiding sense of the requirements and obligations of right conduct: a person of principle.

6.

an adopted rule or method for application in action: a working principle for general use.

7.

a rule or law exemplified in natural phenomena, the construction or operation of a machine, the working of a system, or the like: the principle of capillary attraction.

8.

the method of formation, operation, or procedure exhibited in a given case: a community organized on the patriarchal principle.

9.

a determining characteristic of something; essential quality.

10.

an originating or actuating agency or force: growth is the principle of life.

11.

an actuating agency in the mind or character, as an instinct, faculty, or natural tendency: the principles of human behavior.

Thanks to the on-line dictionary, Dictionary.Com 

 

 

To Gain Your Own Independence

To gain your own independence is easier said than done.  You often believe what is told to you no matter your age.  I grew up with a mother who told me that when I went out into the world, the world would use me and I would never find peace.  She said I had bad genes and that I was the product of a rape.  She would tell me I was full of demons and I was saddled with the "Demon of Silence".  Many more times than not, she would come into my room in the middle of the night and begin casting my demons out of me.

I remember sitting up and moving to the edge of my bed.  I was thinking about how long this would last.  Normally it went on for an hour or so, or until she and whomever had joined her at the time ran out of energy leaving my room.  My mother lives in a fairly large home.  It was bought by one of the parishioners in 1976.  Grant it, even in its hay day the total number in the congregation was under fifteen members.

It is kind of funny when you look back and realize that your mother was the cause of so much sadness.  When you are the daughter of the person that runs a cult I don't think happiness can ever be readily at hand.  She would tout herself as an evangelical minister, but she never went to any kind of school with any given association to the evangelical belief.  She was self-proclaimed. She looks at herself as holier than thou. She believes, along with my step-father that they have the authority to cast out demons and perform exorcisms.  As of today they feel the same way and I believe that this is how it all started for me.  At odds again!!

"Call the Police", my mother shouted from the breakfast room as my step-father was following me through the dining room.  "Call the Police" she shouted again.  I walked back to the breakfast room and asked "Why?". "Because you will not get on your knees and pray" she screamed.  I said, "its your home and I have done everything you asked of me" I proclaimed.  I went on to say that I felt like a prisoner in my own room.  She screams at the top of her lungs,  "Go back to it", I did.

Nine or so hours later a knock on the door made me scramble for balance.  I scramble in fear worrying it was them, saying, "just a moment".  I opened the door and to my surprise there was a line of police men.  They escorted me down the hall to the front of the house stopping in the front hall.  This would prove to be the first time I blacked out since I was a kid in the same house, in the same place, the front hall.  All I really do remember is the officers asking me, "who are these people".  I could not respond, I just sat and shook with fear putting my hands up to rest my head.  This took place on March 5, 2009.

Not to many hours later the flashbacks began.  There I was at 850 Bryant Street, a police station downtown.  I was surrounded by people yelling and screaming.  I was handcuffed and having my picture taken.  They asked me where I lived and I told them that I had just been arrested out of my mothers home where I had been residing for the past six weeks.  This was to be the beginning of a six-week stay at the city jail in the worst pod you could be assigned. I ended up being released and all charges dismissed.

How is it possible to achieve your own independence while put into a predicament like this one.  Well, first you go slow, very slow and do not panic, if at all possible, don't panic.  I asked myself, "what makes you happy and what makes you sad?".  I took a deep breath and thought about it for a while.  I reminded myself that I am no longer four years old, (that is a plus), and, that I have a voice.  Lastly, going from first to last seemed to make so much sense, I took the time to say to myself in silence, "I believe in myself and I know my story is true!"  This is what I did and it is what I have been doing every day since.

When the flashbacks began I was both horrified and terrified.  I felt like my mind was on a split screen television and was running movie reels in my brain.  It did not matter which way I turned, whether my eyes were open or shut, the tickering of the movie projector continued.  I felt as if I were in a surreal world of make believe, being both there, in the past and here, in the present.  It was nightmarish.

There I was, 2 years old being raped, by whom, I could not see.  How was this happening?  I did not know.  I was physically choking in the very live moment, while in my mind something was being rammed down my throat.  I looked around me and I was standing in the middle of my jail pod with a deputy yelling at me.  "Whats wrong with you", the screaming echoed.  "Can't you here me call your name?"  I snapped out of it and became lucid again.  This how it has been since.  I am getting better but apparently it will never end, its strange to honest with yourself this way.

I would like to be angry, but, how can I be?  It's me.  I have had horror after horror and yet if it had not happened I would not be the person I am today.  I may be screwed-up, definitely in need of many things, but I love me.  I have survived something that apparently should not be survived and I am present in the moment.  That in itself is a miracle.  I was baptized in the church of Satan, raped and molested, spiritually abused, abandoned, beaten before and after school to keep me from talking and I am still here.  Fighting for my life is an everyday affair for me.

I often tell myself, "I did not survive this for nothing".  Then I ask myself, "what did I survive it for".  Interesting question if you ask me.  Apparently, survivors, survive, it is just what we do.  Regardless of the situation or circumstance it is our nature and we are professionals at it.  It is like a job of sorts, I, am actually very passionate about my survival, I am still here.  I believe I am here to "right the wrongs", but in all truth I don't think I know exactly what that means.  However, it is what has pulled me through very difficult times.

I do still spend a lot of time asking myself and thinking about "why am I here".  I am sure you ask yourself the very same question and that it is not unique to me.  I do believe that making a difference is paramount and to do this is extremely important.  How you choose to do this can be a priceless gift of love.  My gift to you is my story, my perseverance, my truth, myself and my peace of mind. 

It's All About You!!

I exist, I have a name.

I am not seen, I can be mean.

I want for you freedom, Life!

I see for you to much strife.

My name is short!

My fame is small.

I do not show my pain for you.

I talk to you in vocal sound.

I want for you, to be found.

I close my eyes and pray each night,

the weekends come, I hold on tight.

My lovely way seems tucked away,

small is my heart when pain doth stay.

I take a breath to ease the sorrow,

I hope for you a lovely tomorrow,

but, deeper still, does my heart wane.

When all I see is one in three.

Each does come, a smile I bare.

My eyes will shine, with tears behind,

I don't see much, I see it all.

Be strong, be fast, and stand up tall.

I'm not a tree, I am just me.

My roots are inside of me,

I wish for you a depth, a well,

that fills with joy and not a smell.

My names been told, but, just in case,

I do not want to put on face.

Call me simple, call me love,

just don't call me back from above.

Peace, Namaste!!

Please don't cry,

I do not lie,

the truth within,

is without sin.

Your strength and love,

for all of you to see, is simply,

just a fact you plea.

Your heart is with me,

my medallion is with you,

thank you for all time.

There is no end,

I wrote for you,

a simple mend.

You've been for me,

and now I see,

inside of you,

your hearts so big,

just a fact and that's, that.

Life is beautiful.

4/19/2011

Karen A. Placek

Energy = Positive + Negative

My mother had a church that she founded in the early seventies.  My mother has a diagnoses, some type of a narcissistic disorder.  My mother was an evangelical minister that never received an education in the World of Ministry.  My mother believes that she has the power and the authority to cast demons out of people.  My mother believes that she can perform exorcisms.  My mother had two people commit suicide out of her church.  My mother manipulates people in such a way that they have literally changed their Wills and left her and the church as the benefactor.  My mother lives in a home that was purchased by one of the church members that not only committed suicide, but, also had an adult circumcision.  She forced the issue until its completion.  My mother spoke to my best friend two weeks before his suicide.  My mother married a man fourteen years her junior, ordaining him into the church as a Pastor, giving him the authority over Satan.  My mother used to replace her name in the bible where it said "God" with her name.  My mother runs a non-profit today.  This makes and keeps a profit for herself and nobody cares to do anything about it.  No one will investigate the charity.  My mother is a manipulator.  My mother is a spiritual abuser.  My mother knows I was kidnapped and sexually abused when I was a child.  My mother told me she was raped and she then became pregnant with me, this is how I was born.  My mother said I had "bad genes" and that the "spirit of silence" was the demonic possession inside of me.  My mother has been abusing me since my birth.  My mother baptized me in the Church of Satan when I was three.  My mother allowed my step-father and brother abuse me.  My mother allowed the church members into our lives.  My mother demanded them to be sub-servant to her.  My mother found only criticism to flow from her mouth, body, soul, spirit and mind.

My mother birthed me and left me to others to be raised.  However, I never left her side until I was eighteen.  She raised me inside of a bubble, away from anyone or anything that would or could identify me as being abused.

My mother continues today in her same manners.  Supported by my step-father and my four siblings.  My mother hates me.  My half-sister told me I should take a gun and blow my head off because it would be the best thing for the family.  My mother does not want me to talk, nor does she want me to write this book.  My mother broke the straw that broke the camels back, literally.  My back collapsed and so did I.

My mother is a narcissist.  I am her daughter and this is the narcissistic view of a child.  Listen carefully, walk softly because you could have been anyone of these people; loosing your life, your savings, your trust fund or your child to this church.  Or is it a cult?  It has since dispersed for the most part.  All of the people are either dead or surviving this horror someplace in the world today.  My mother sold the church building which had been purchased by the same man that purchased the home where she currently resides as a parish.  Upon the sale of the church building she was listed as the President and my step-father was listed as the secretary.  Listing the front of the building as a LLC and the side address as another separate LLC.  Paying off the home where she resides in total.

With the church being dissolved and whatever members are left seem to be full of so much fear they are terrified to speak, I am the only voice in this time.  This is wrong, underhanded and should be against the law.  However, nobody knows I guess or is it that nobody cares.

I am an adult survivor of these horrors.  I began to talk about it and it did not go well for me at all.  Stirring memories became flashbacks.  This caused on-going nightmares to become day-mares.  I have been diagnosed with  C-PTSD.  This is an actual injury to the brain.  There is no magic pill to help it go away.  It is the result of years of abuse, manipulation, sexual assault and silence.  They say that there is hope to ease my raging mind, if I can begin to run my memories through.  Allowing them to run so I can experience some sort of completion in my thought.  This is instead of me burying them down each and every day of my life.  I thought this would all go away one day.  If I could only master the art of the burial of the horrific memories.  Turns out this is an impossibility.  The professionals say that one time or another no matter how good you are at disguising the truth, that it will eventually rear its ugly head.  My worries are my own, but my reactions are not.  What I do and say affects every fiber of every being near me.  If I chooses to be negative in my communications then negative energy will flow.  If I choose to be positive that positive energy will flow all about me. 

0-2 Years

Surrounded by the feeling of a thick round machine.  Sometimes limp and lobbed, other times hard and painful.  Goo all around my nose and eyes.  When I take a breath, I am choked with a thick gum-like substance.  I struggle to breath.  When I breath through my nose this thick residue fills my nostrils.  As I try to breath in and out, I scream.

I try sucking the tip of something.  It is skin-like and oozes a goo-like substance.  When I suck it in to drink it, it chokes the back of my throat.  It is a terrifying account of what my nightmares are made of in my mind.  My body wriggles around trying to get away.

I don't know what I'm seeing, but, I can imagine the crime.  I worry.  I cry inside.  The moving pictures are "still frames", I'm scared.

A Curse

The Man I live with, lies to cover.

He never stands for others relief,

he only catches his own desire,

in his third eye, Require!

He back tracks, he is not mine.

I barf at the thought of closeness.

He tells or thinks we're other,

behind all that he covers.

On every high he searches PORN!

Produces adds to advertise,

"Free from Commitment",

"Free from Lives",

falsehood Rules!

His life, He's long in tooth.

A friend I started off to be,

I must need to exist, its Three.

After this I quit, my sneer.

Each one proclaims, a wealth not there.

Not Mind, Nor Soul, Not Heart.

No Find!!

A grievous mining FEE!

Charge each loss, best friends we're not.

He says the words, I puke!!

Witness nigh or you'll cry too.

Forever lists this evening.

A Curse.

4/4/2011

Karen Placek

Stop

 I close my eyes and cry inside.
I often wonder why?

I where the sadness like disguise,
inside is where I sigh.


I wish that people left alone,
the one who screams in agony.

The razor zips through flesh it seems.
Leaving only blood and jeans.


I ask for people to STOP attack,
it seems I am only....Charge!

The feeling of pain overwhelms,
I scream, to ease the tease.


Please give me room,
ease the weight.

It throws the balance off,
back away, watch your words, STOP!


Why they speak, the lies do drool,
from the corners of their mouth.

Stand Proud! 
'They' do,
the prowess of their attack.


Repeat the process, down the lines,
a script of ill-repute.

Nothing more than "Whore for Hire"
I'm honest with my truth.




4/4/2011
Karen A. Placek

No Reap

Never loved causes a problem from above.

The things you are taught,

missed me as a lot.

No body showed me how to be,

morals and principles escape my being.

Born a natural, not a factual.

No book was given.

No instructions to listen.

How do you?  It's non-fiction.

Responsibility, is on all of thee.

Walking by a little one,

who knows bars from below.

Learned more from BDSM Men

then from Family close.

Not right, not wrong, just Book.

Razors, knives, hold my blue,

first suicide held so true!

was eight first time; Hate!

Stayed alive, punishment, tear.

Better, Longer, over the year.

My Life, Their Life, No Decide!!

Held belief deep,  Inside no REAP!

Don't believe in ending Life.

Even though it causes strife.

4/5/2011

Karen A. Placek

My Wreath

It's difficult to speak of these moments of timber.

It is as if a burning ember glows from beneath the bog.

A city, a young life, all that differs?

Not one from the other; the lights shall prove,

the wicked alley's, the dirty back doors.


Passages and Tunnels always stay.


Clearing weight, heaviness and doom.
Shoulders bury the six foot stooge.
Guns pointed, bullets flew,
not mine, I saw straight threw.


Kindly, wisely, he spoke to you.
Remembering differences shining through.
A man, no home, no identity.
My mind, my soul, my disheartened grief.


No! I shant not, no cardboard relief.


Death is too real, it comes from beneath.
His eyes, I don't wander.
Stay close, hold your feet.


Painful, Sorrowful, 
moments need a name,
not a number, 666,
I'm the Beast!!


As per my mother,
my families,
My Wreath.

4/5/2011

Karen A. Placek

About This Hell

I was born, then I cried.

Before you new it I was Five.

In between was pain and lies,

lost my Dad and thought I died.

Can't remember most of this,

mostly 'cause I got hit.

Beatings frequent,

this I know, was my Step-Dad,

he was bad.

Right before, when I was Four.

I stopped talking,

this was true, acted out and hated too.

Don't remember Six and Seven.

I woke-up and was Eleven.

Years of pain, I don't know,

couldn't tell you, I was slow.

My brother left, he seemed to be,

Lots of trouble for me to see.

When I was Eight, my body ached,

my step-father beat us three,

Tammy, Eddie and there's me.

(This went on everyday,

my parents worried we might tell,

everyone about this Hell.)

Karen Placek

5/30/2009

My Dedication To My Self!

Life goes on!!

It's O.K. to be SAD,

It's O.K. to be HAPPY,

It's O.K. to be found.

It is especially O.K.

to get up when your

Down!!

With or without them,

I will not have to

hear their

Sound!!

It makes me crazy,

insane.

It's time to 

ordain;

A Life of Love complete!

Karen A. Placek

5/10/2009

The Soul Shatterer Con't

The world is full of these people. It seems that they have a purpose within themselves. It seems their purpose is to just destroy you with their words. Sadly, it seems I engaged with more of these type of people in my life than I did with any other type of person.  I found it difficult to meet uplifting people or just people that are even supportive.

It's funny how the words become or have the power to strike you down in mid-sentence.  I certainly am well-versed at that one particular experience.  I have watched how it takes place my entire life.  You would think I would be better at avoiding these type of people, but, I seem to run head-long into them.  I am working on this in my self, to find out the "why".

Soul shatterers / Identity crushers, its how I refer to this sub-category. They seem to cast judgment constantly when you are speaking to them.  I know that I was raised with this type of person, or be it persons.  It has been a life-long struggle to get through and not get caught up in doing the same thing.   It is so easy to judge one another and so difficult to support them.  Most of my days are filled with my own personal fears.  I am afraid of everything, the day itself causes me to feel fear.

As a child my days were filled with sexual, physical, spiritual, mental, psychological manipulations, altercations, deception and it seems to all add up to, a lot of psychopathic abuse. I do not believe there have been many moments of my life where this was not either happening right in front of me or very close by in proximity. I am finally becoming capable to make a stand against this constant barrage from my family.  It is so difficult to do this, you end up being all alone.  In my case, I have decided to go public with my story, it has helped the shaking fear inside of me and as night falls each day I become a little less afraid.