Born Crazy: A Video Poem

You’re crazy.”

How often have you heard this phrase thrown around, either flippantly, in jest or to victim blame someone who has overcome or is recovering from abuse?

I heard this often as a post-cult teenager and well into my adult years. While I was actually dealing with the behavioral aftermath of being an extremely abused child, instead of receiving support, caring and nurturing I was told that I was crazy. When a child is told enough times that they’re mind is insane, we begin to believe it.

This poetry piece is from my spoken word album, Dusted Shelves, which is available on Amazon in paperback and c.d. Written in 2013, it is a representation of a life by which I was conditioned to believe that I was crazy.

Some abuse survivor work is considered to be dark and oddly psychotic. This piece would fall under that theme.

**Trigger Warning for those who are sensitive to these themes**

Born Crazy

Cults and Cult Apologists Who Gang Stalk

Gang stalking (also known as “organized stalking”) “is the covert organized surveillance and harassment of a targeted individual by multiple perpetrators. The goal is to systematically isolate and harass the victim using tactics whose cumulative effects amount to psychological torture.”

Tactics include:

* Flooding your book/website/online presence with negative comments to drive down the ratings
* Making websites in an attempt to discount you
* Leaving negative comments and thumbs down on YouTube videos
* Blogging about you negatively
* Calling you a liar
* Attempting to trigger you emotionally in any way possible, even attacking your mental health
* Hacking into websites
* Re-selling your book/item for profit
* Digging up parts of your past in an attempt to discredit your present as if humans do not change and/or grow

Some cults go further and actually physically stalk individuals; slash tires, harrass family members and even murder individuals. If one has ever watched Deadly Devotion they can see examples of this. 

I deeply observe the mindsets of my critics, who so far have been seemingly either current members of Sam Fife’s Move of God cult or ex-members who are cult apologists.

A few days ago, a negative review was left on my Amazon link for Cult Child. I expected this behavior long before I began to write. This is what cults do. I have never been overly concerned with it. 1. I find that the guiltiest yell the loudest and 2. I appreciate their reviews because each one of them proves even more, the validity of my story.

Here’s why:

This last review alleged that my book was filled with lies and that it was vague. So my first response, naturally, is, how could you possibly know that unless you were on the cult with me, because that would be the only way anything the critic had to say could be valid. They would have to have been there. Therefore this person either is one of my abusers or witnessed the abuse.

Here say doesn’t stand up in court. Just because Sister Marie calls me a liar doesn’t make it so. She has to prove it. Even in court, the burden of proof is not on the victim.

**update** I responded to the commenter who called my book a farce. I asked them, if it is so, they must have been there, witnesses or participated.  I asked them which compound they were housed in to know?  The next day, the commenter had deleted their comment.

I happily welcome the opportunity when I might step before a judge with my evidence. I’m ready for what they’ll possibly do to hide the truth. No matter what, the truth is now out there in print, and the truth will live long after I leave this planet.

It will live in every word of Cult Child’s pages, in the words of this blog and from the mouths of my siblings and every other source who verified these memories. It will live through my sons who will insure it’s continued copyright. It will live through my grandchildren. It will live through every person who has a copy of it. It will live always.

and this is why my critics don’t count.

Stream Of Consciousness 6.5|15

What kept you silent, mother? Was it the denial of the screams echoing down the hallway every time the abusers’ belts landed a blow to me? Did your heart really belong to their ministry? There are secrets that you shared without even speaking. Infectious connections I’m quickly uncovering. You are all earth and upturned stone.

What will remain when the truth is regained; when we find out what is left behind? We were test subjects for the mind.

I’m staring them in their faces, mama. They are victim blaming and apathetic. Were they not this pathetic to you? Where did you ever see truth in such blatant illusion? What depth there must have been to your confusion.

I’m strong. Throwing bricks. The layers are thick, but we’ll get to the heart of this sickness. Control and Ego. It’s all gotta go.

They run rabid like dogs feeding off the hearts of innocent survivors; grab your pocketbook, write a check, this one needs therapy again. It’s a racket from start to finish; one claiming extremist; the other peace. All ritualistic and damaging, both are the same, just presented in different packaging.

We discovered each other, mother. Did you ever expect that? We are here tracing our steps back. What we are finding is spellbinding, a circle of explicit deviance wrapped in a bow of reverence and deliverance.

Yet, none can save the soul but the one who owns it. There is no atonement for their deeds. They hope and wish but the truth is, what awaits them after death… is nothingness. You went back to the gray and so will they, pompous court jesters with wounds that fester deeper than ours.

But they don’t wear their scars as proud. They don’t shout as loud. They drop names and hope for fame; score coin without shame at the expense of the wounded. It is a circus of psychology and ideology. They dont see us following behind, warriors prepared to reveal their crimes.

Meanwhile, we are freely thinking and unleashing an unearthing. We are re-birthing ways brand new, and these unchivalrous tyrants aren’t sure just what to do. Their masks have fallen. Truth is calling, and their exuses have become useless.

And so we dig into the deepest parts of it, because this pit’s not bottomless and we arent the type to quit.

“Cult Child” Amazon Review – Heartbreaking

By a. estrada on April 14, 2015

Format: Kindle Edition Verified Purchase
I don’t know how else to say it The book will break your heart. It will make you cry. It will make you mad. And somehow, little Sila still brought a smile to my face, even an out loud laugh, or two!
The book is written beautifully, despite the sadness. I love how the story was told through the child’s eyes. It makes it easier to connect with the her in this way. To feel, see what she is feeling and seeing. More personal. I loved it. Anxious to know what happens after Alaska…
Visit the link below to purchase Cult Child and read more reviews: