Processing My Last Hypnosis Session

I’ve been thinking about my last hypnotic session…

I understand why I blamed myself on some level, even subconsciously, as a child– but I don’t feel that way anymore. What happened was not in any way my fault, even if I had been an adult, and I was 7. SEVEN! So clearly I could not be held culpable for those beings’ deaths.

In point of fact, they were pretty much doomed from the moment they stopped by! However, my quick thinking saved my own life and that of my family. Though my parents didn’t know it, and in fact were told to be suspicious of me, I was heroic. And… no one who was there will ever know it except for myself, so it pretty much doesn’t count to anyone but me. And I was a dumb kid and didn’t understand the reality of what was happening, but I would have died if I hadn’t thought to try something. The fact I was able to do that at 7 was astounding, and I’m proud of my actions. There’s a chance this is all a self-serving narrative, but I don’t think so. The emotions that emerged were too powerful to be fantasy.

I’m still incredibly sad about those beings dying. I don’t think they deserved it– I don’t think they were going to hurt us. It was a ‘pick up/check-up’ thing, or was supposed to be. My innocence was killed that night, though. I learned that even doing the right thing and being clever wouldn’t always save the day like in movies and books. I first had periods of depression after that incident. Not like after I got sick at 13, but I did have deep, dark bouts of hopelessness and despair between 7 and 12. Childhood depression wasn’t recognized in the 70s, and barely acknowledged for teenagers in the 80s– but there’s no doubt the incident left a mark on me that lasted even if I didn’t consciously remember what happened.

Though I know my parents were ‘set up’ to be suspicious of me, I don’t excuse them turning on me like they did. I can’t. If I was a parent, no matter what feelings I had, if my kid NEVER actually did anything to prove my suspicions correct, I would let go of said suspicions. My parents didn’t. I know they were both already traumatized by being abductees themselves, but still–! They chose wrongly, and I hold them responsible for that. My later hatred and apathy for both of them makes sense, and I’m actually glad to judge them harshly. Forgiving them would have been a fundamental betrayal of myself, and so I’m certain that’s the wrong path. Someday maybe in a future life, but now–? Nah. I condemn them fully.

Between my last life dying in World War One and the incidents of being taken and abused by military or contract quasi-military this life, I’m utterly disgusted with anything military and likely will be until I die, and maybe beyond that! I get it’s a necessary evil, but the whole structure of institutions that require blind obedience is never something I’ll be able to get behind. Too often, structures that allow sociopaths to rise to the top FAIL to prevent abuses by those sociopaths! The macho horseshit cultural norms in the military are… inexcusable.

Speaking of which-! I’m sick of patriarchal bully-based social systems! I’m tired of exploitation being the dominant paradigm of our prevailing so-called “civilized” societies! It causes more destruction than creation, and it could end if enough people would insist upon it… but we all know that’s not how it’s going to go. I’m sad about it, but truthfully there is more fury and disgust than sadness now. It WILL end, however… the hard way since not enough people have the power, or the daring, to go up against the ruling assholes to ease it down less traumatically. And that’s a shame.