This article is part of a series of investigations into cultic dynamics in fringe groups.
Tag: child abuse
Running my fingers over the scars, I close my eyes.
The Ego of Self Induced Terror
They will become entombed within the ancient earth and the wildflowers.
A Childhood Near Death Experience
This passage from my memoir "Cult Child" discusses a near-death experience I had when I was five years old.
Nighttime Haunts the Muscles
Don’t store the detritus in your body. It will mire down your feet.
WIP – Collage Art Book
Art is a process of immersion and re-emerging.
It Starts Inside
We trauma survivors can have a little habit. Avoidance. I know. I’ve been there. For many years I burrowed myself into every other person and/or project that distracted my mind away from myself. I was so frightened by what I had to face in myself; the pain, the anger, the memories of a tortured childhood, … Continue reading It Starts Inside
“We Are Your Revelation”
Sexual abuse, trauma; Leaves physical scars Too deep to ever leave.
Healing Yourself Heals the World
I used to harbor a lot of hate toward my mother. Let me tell you something. Hate only hurts yourself and others. It is not a shield. It comes with no solutions. It is fueled by anger and should only be felt righteously; such as HATING child rapists. In my mind the only perspective I … Continue reading Healing Yourself Heals the World
“I’m Kind Of a Big Deal: We’re Talking Cover-up”
Collage Book by Vennie Kocsis Collage art is a medium which I feel most in harmony with. For me, it’s akin to throwing runes and letting the story emerge on its own. I picked up some outdated pocket planners from Half Price Books to up-cycle into new books. Below is a time-lapse video of my … Continue reading “I’m Kind Of a Big Deal: We’re Talking Cover-up”
The Eye Of the Mother
This past decade has been filled with many turns in the bumpy road I have traveled. I have pushed through deep depressions and sad realizations about this human existence. I have absorbed and grown my mindfulness and ability to receive and give love. I have waded through dissociative disorder peaks, organizing the many compartments of … Continue reading The Eye Of the Mother
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