how i was spiritually raped and left for dead (part 9)

part 1 is here part 2 is here
part 3 is here part 4 is here
part 5 is here part 6 is here
part 7 is here part 8 is here



summer, fall, winter, spring
of the seasons i will sing
to help you through your birth
as you spend your time on earth
in the wind ~ steve miller

you have to let it go. you need to get over it. put it behind you. forget it. move on.
i can’t tell you the number of times i’ve heard well-meaning people say these things about my experience with bob. they don’t get it. this stuff has a way of getting inside of you and hiding, only to surface when you thought you had let it go.

here’s what i mean:

it was november 23, 1999, over 2 years had passed since i had sat in my perch on the northern slope of the santan mountains. i was standing outside talking on the phone with my father. he was ecstatic to hear me so filled with joy. i was euphoric. moments ago, i had held my wife in my arms as she delivered our second daughter, a beautiful blue-eyed, fair-skinned, strawberry blond baby girl. we named her ellie [name changed].

“i’m serious dad, i said. “it’s not just because she’s my daughter, she is so perfect, so beautiful.”

i couldn’t believe it. my wife was fantastic. she sailed through labor and delivered this bright-eyed baby girl with no medication, no epidural, just miles davis, john coltrane and a bit of monkey-hip gumbo and mothball stew playing in the background--the same music that was playing when our daughter was conceived.

we left the birthing center three hours later, heading home with our new baby.

at home, our oldest daughter, her stuffed dog, kimberly, and i, gathered together in our king-sized bed with mom and the new baby. we were a happy family.

this time was especially meaningful to us, because we had been forbidden from having any more children in the bob's cult. though we were older than many parents of newborns, now that we were out, we could have all the children we wanted. this one was precious.

six months after ellie was born, i was on the phone once again. my wife had called me at work, i could hear deep, deep fear in her voice. our 6-month old girl was about to be transported to the hospital in an ambulance.

i hung up the phone, raced to my red t-bird and hauled ass toward the e.r. i was scared. “bob's wife had told us not to have a baby,” i thought. then…“whoa! where did that come from?”

i hit cedar crest blvd, took a hard right and put the pedal to the floor. i didn’t know that this event was going to change our family forever--that it would redefine our lives.

this wasn’t the first time we’d been expecting since we left the cult. once we were gone, i bought health insurance as soon as i could come up with the money and we went to work, trying to have a baby. it didn’t take long. a month later, my wife gave me the good news. we were thrilled.

then, three months into the pregnancy, my wife started bleeding. she was broken-hearted when the doctor told her that we’d lost the baby. i was broken-hearted as well--sad that our dream had been squashed, sadder still for my wife, who was devastated.

being fresh out of the cult, both of us wrestled with the feelings that we were being punished for going against bob's wife. though we knew in our minds that she had no real power, deeper still were the phobias that had been planted within us. not only did we have to question whether or not we’d been wrong to go against bob's wife, whether we had killed a child in the process, but we also had to try to shake the overwhelming fear that we’d never be able to have children again—that bob's wife or perhaps even the universe itself, wouldn’t allow it.

i had to try to hide these fears from my wife. i had to reassure her that bob's wife had no power. this incident had nothing to do with the cult. she needed me to be strong. so i focused on putting the fears aside and giving my wife what she needed.

in time, we were able to push forward. it was a testament of will. we would not allow ourselves to be ruled by a false god. my wife became pregnant again and nine months later ellie was born.

now this.

when i arrived at the emergency room my wife was able to better explain what had happened. she was at the grocery store, ellie was in her baby carrier, which was attached to the shopping cart. all of the sudden our baby started to shake violently. “it looked like…a seizure?,” she said. she had run, pushing the cart and our daughter, to the in-store pharmacy. the pharmacist called 911.

the doctors were reassuring. it was likely a febrile seizure, a seizure caused by having a fever. they said it was quite common. we needn’t be worried. we were relieved.

a few weeks later it happened again.

this time it wouldn’t stop. we rushed her to the hospital. finally, they gave her ativan, a powerful tranquilizer, to stop the seizure. there was all kinds of testing. our 9 month old daughter was diagnosed with epilepsy.

the neurologist said that our daughter needed medication, phenobarbital, a powerful and highly addictive barbiturate. we asked all the questions: what are the potential side effects? will this affect her development? how long will she have to take it? and of course, is this the course of action you would take if this were your daughter?

i couldn’t imagine giving this drug to a little girl. i was quite familiar with the drugs effects, both as a n addiction counselor and a former barbiturate user. but the doctor was clear, without this medicine our daughter would continue to have seizures. and so here it comes again, this time in the form of bob’s voice in my head, “these fvckin’ doctors don’t know what the fvck they’re doing. what!…you gonna turn her into a drug addict?”

this one was even harder to fight. i was afraid of this drug…all drugs. now nearly 2 and a half years after leaving the cult, still believing all drugs were evil, i had the doctor on one side and bob on the other. i was going to give my baby girl, who didn’t even have a voice in the matter, this powerfully addictive drug. fighting everything within us, my wife and i pushed forward. out of will alone, we gave our daughter the medicine she needed.

we had to crush the pills and put them in her baby food.

we were comforted by the neurologist, who was excellent in regard to both her medical skills and her bedside manner. she told us that most seizure disorders are well controlled with medication. as long as she took her medicine and stayed healthy, she might never again have another seizure. even more promising was the fact that she would likely outgrow the seizure disorder. hers didn’t seem that serious and many children outgrow epilepsy, never having to take medication as adults.

we became students of epilepsy and neurology. we read every book, every website. we learned about the many different types of seizures. we also learned about different and rare seizure disorders. some of these rare seizure disorders were serious. some had high rates of death. some caused the victims to become mentally delayed and/or physically disabled. as a parent, reading about these debilitating conditions, i couldn’t help but become fearful at times. what if our daughter has one of these rare conditions, lennox-gastaut, syndrome, west’s syndrome, dravet’s syndrome? then i would talk myself out of it. “these illnesses are so rare,” i would tell myself. “it would be as likely as getting hit by a meteorite.”

also, as parents, we couldn’t help but notice some thing wasn’t quite right. as we learned about different kinds of seizures, some, like absence seizures, where there may be just a brief staring spell, we began to be concerned that there may be more to our daughters condition than we had originally thought.

at some point, the phenobarbitol, stopped working. our daughter began having status seizures, meaning once they started they didn’t stop without medical intervention. trips to the emergency room became more and more frequent.

ellie became accustomed to seeing doctors, having blood drawn, going to the hospital. tubes, iv’s and sticky patches attached to electrical leads became a normal part of her life. her loving spirit and outgoing, friendly personality were unaffected. when the nurse would walk into the room with a needle or an i.v. lead , emily would hold out her arm. “just a little pinch, right mommy?,” she would say. then tears would stream down her cheeks, never complaining, never resisting, as the needle was punctured her skin.

in time, she would take the punishment without tears. “i didn’t cry, mommy.” “you are so brave,” mommy would reply. “it’s just a little pinch, right mommy?”

even with the medications and the seizures, ellie developed nicely. the seizures continued to increase in frequency and severity. we tried over a dozen medications and combinations of meds. nothing seemed to help. we took her to johns-hopkins and washington university for more thorough testing—including a video e.e.g.

for her video e.e.g. she was fitted with electrical leads covering her entire head. the leads were connected to a backpack which held a device that sent the electrical information to a machine that measured seizure activity. her hospital room was equipped with video cameras so that she was monitored on video and e.e.g. 24 hours a day. we learned that she had been having about 200 seizures a day, many unnoticeable to the untrained eye. it was clear that her condition was serious.

we also learned that she had an above average iq and was on track as far her development was concerned, a rarity among children with seizure disorders of this severity.

ellie is loved by everyone who meets her. with a wide-open heart, she has always been quick to let people know her love for them. ellie loved to run and play. she loved to swing on the swing which hung from the elm tree in our backyard. full of life and with a sense of adventure, she liked to camp out in the backyard and go for neighborhood adventures with dad.

among our fondest memories is that of watching ellie glide down the giant slide at the fair, wind blowing back her hair, or seeing her ride the kiddie roller-coaster, next to her big sister. she would race down “the big hill” arms in the air, mouth open, smiling unashamedly. she would run from ride to ride, excited to take on the next new adventure.

sometimes she would walk around the house, wearing nothing but her diaper and daddy’s big black cowboy boots which went all the way to the tops of her legs. other times she'd romp around the house in her fluffy, pooh-bear costume or dance with daddy wearing her princess belle costume. aside from her seizures, she was like so many other little girls.

that all began to change between her 3rd and 4th birthdays. during this time we watched, helpless, as our bright, joy-filled little girl began to deteriorate both mentally and physically. she began to lose her balance and her coordination. at times she would fall out of her chair. her language became affected. communication became increasingly more difficult for her. she could no longer do many of the things she loved to do. when she ran she would lose balance and fall. then she began to fall while walking.

though ellie has lost many of her skills, her courage and spirit remain unaffected. like many kids with special needs she has a way of getting into your heart. today, at 10 years old, ellie goes to a regular, public school and spends most of her day in a regular 4th grade classroom. the other students in her class are a testament to the beauty of the human spirit.

each day ellie has a “buddy,” another student who plays with her and watches over her at lunch, in gym class, and on the playground. the students compete enthusiastically for the opportunity to be her “buddy” for the day.

when we take her to school, we are always inspired by seeing the children’s reactions. they run up to her and circle around her, each vying for their opportunity to hug her. last year, at the end of the year school fair, her classmates guided her up the steps of the big inflatable slide and caught her as she reached the bottom. they held her hand, smiling and laughing with her, guiding her, as she attempted to run from one attraction to another.

sadly she is rarely invited to birthday parties. it’s not because the children don’t want her, but because many of the parents don’t. they lack the courage, love and tolerance that their children possess. they’re afraid of her “condition.”

bob would call her a “bent frame,” or maybe a “retard” (though she’s neither). he would be disgusted by the same child who is loved by so many others. he would complain if he had to stand in line behind her at “sea world” or “disneyland.” he would probably make cruel comments just loud enough so we could hear. he might lean over her, smiling and talking to her, only to walk away making disparaging remarks.

ellie’s illness has had a tremendous impact on her big sister. by the time she was in 2nd or 3rd grade, it had become clear to everyone that roxanne [name changed] had, as they say, a beautiful mind. she had excelled in school to the point where it became difficult to find an environment where teachers and other students could keep up. in math and science she is able to visualize concepts that most people will go their entire lives without the capacity to see or comprehend.

unlike many people with high science and math skills, her language skills are off the charts as well. she was finishing each year with the highest gpa in every school she attended. she changed schools several times in an effort to find a challenging environment. she skipped a grade and and entered the international baccalaureate program, as a freshman, at 13. she will graduate at the at end of this school year and start college with 2 years of college credit already completed. she is 17. i call her “killer.”

she plans to complete undergrad, with a double major in chemistry and premed in 2 years. then she will enter medical school at 19. she wants to be a pediatric neurologist.

as parents, the bulk of our time and energy has been devoted to watching over ellie and trying to find the medical care she needed. sadly, roxanne was often on her own in many ways.

she has learned to take responsibility for her growth and education. she has also learned to care for her little sister.

one christmas morning, roxanne opened a box and was thrilled to find a necklace, a heart-shaped locket, she had wanted. inside the heart, we had placed a picture of our family. she was overjoyed.

ellie saw her reaction to the present and wanted a necklace as well. “where’s my necklace?” she asked. we could tell she was sad that she didn’t get a necklace like her big sister, whom she adored.

without prompting, as we continued to unwrap presents, roxanne slipped away to her room. she returned a few minutes later with a small wrapped present which she placed under the tree while ellie wasn’t looking. the tag on the present said, “to: ellie from: mommy and daddy.”

when ellie opened the box she was elated to see that mommy and daddy had also given her a necklace (roxanne’s necklace that she had boxed and wrapped) just like her big sister’s.

roxanne has never complained about the time and energy, rightfully belonging to her, that has been given instead to her little sister. in fact, she has been fully determined to become a pediatric neurologist since shortly after ellie was diagnosed. ellie's illness has driven her. she wants to find a way to help children like ellie. someday, she will master the powers of science and mathematics to ensure that other children can be free from the from this debilitating illness.

i can’t help but be thankful that rebecca was introduced to disabilities in this way as opposed to the way in which she would have been taught to view disabled children if she were in bob's organization, raised by “the family.”

she doesn’t talk about ellie a lot. she never complains about the lost vacations, last minute cancellations of family outings, the frequent late night visits by teams of firemen and paramedics, or the necessity to often have only one parent at academic awards ceremonies, concerts, and competitions, as the other parent stays home to take care of ellie.

she never complained about having to spend nearly her entire summer with my parents and my sister’s family, away from her home and friends, while her sister underwent brain surgery and stayed in the hospital, out of town, with mom.

i try to compensate taking her to rock and roll concerts, ball games, or out to dinner--just the two of us.

she is well aware of the danger her sister faces. she has taken it upon herself to research epilepsy.

sometimes late at night, we’ll sit outside on the back porch, which overlooks the neighborhood park to the south and the mountains to the west. we’ll talk. on occasion, she’ll discuss her fears, namely the fear of losing her little sister. she knows that there exists a significant chance that ellie could die from a seizure. the thought of life without ellie’s smile is too painful to consider. she realizes that ellie will probably never have the potential that she has. she fears that ellie will never be able to care for herself, live on her own, have a family.

roxanne operates in a highly competitive school environment with about 30 of the district’s brightest minds, doing 2nd year college level work. she excels in all areas of study and has won numerous academic awards. she is still committed to becoming a pediatric neurologist. she wants to cure epilepsy. and although she tries to avoid causing her mom and dad to worry about the impact of ellie's condition on her emotional state, i am sometimes able to coax her to share her feelings with me.

lately, we have been sitting out back together, talking. late at night, roxanne, looking to me with the mountains behind me, wants to talk about the cult--how it has affected her. she talks about what it was like to have her “friends,” the people who said they were her “family,” suddenly abandon her. it still hurts.
 




and high up above or down below
when you're too in love to let it go
but if you never try you'll never know
just what you're worth

lights will guide you home
and ignite your bones
and i will try
to fix you ~coldplay
on the third night, as i sat perched on the northern slope, santan mountains to my back, lights below, stars overhead, roxanne was on my mind. i knew i could not allow her to grow up in this environment. i knew that if they managed to destroy my family, to split us up and cast me aside, they would ultimately cast my wife and child aside as well, but not before destroying them both.

virtually everyone in bob’s past had been destroyed and cast aside. this was the program’s dirty little secret. this was the thing we all knew, but never talked about—never thought about. all of the past leaders of the universal fountainhead of spiritual consciousness, were ultimately beaten down, cast aside, demonized, and left alone with nothing and no one.

that was the secret i would share with orlando, sitting on the curb behind our coffee shop, months later. it would be the last time i would ever speak to him.

i had found myself, but would still have to fight the virus with which bob and his destructive cult had infected the deepest parts of me. it was an enemy that was often difficult to find. it was difficult to separate myself from the evil, death in the name of life, truth mixed with lies, poverty disguised as abundance.

i knew i wasn’t a killer. that was bob’s claim to fame. he had claimed that he had been responsible for the deaths of several other men. i could imagine the travesty of being imprisoned for murder while he came off looking like a hero, an altruistic rehabilitator senselessly killed by a monster whom he had helped to overcome the wrath of addiction. that’s how the headlines would read. that’s what my daughter would believe.

killing bob was not an option. it was not me. i needed to be smart, creative. i refused to allow these people to break up my family. i refused to allow them to infect my daughter. i also refused to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder.

steve hassan's book, combating cult mind control was written in part to help people open communication and free their family members from cults.

i wracked my brain trying to remember the book’s content. i was able to recall some of the techniques outlined in the book. cult members are most reachable when they are being ostracized or right after they’ve been “barreled,” as we called it. the cult victim’s family members can often reach beyond the cult mind-set by talking about life before the cult, causing the member to think about difference in freedom and happiness between life inside and life outside the cult. the book instructed loved one's to talk about hobbies and other activities that were important to the victim prior to the cult—things they’d given up to devote their time and energy to the cult.

there was a lot couldn’t remember, but much that i could. “i can do this,” i told myself. “i love my wife. she loves me. regardless of the contrived efforts and crazy ideas the bob and his wife have placed in our minds and emotions, i know this one thing to be true…constant. we love each other. we belong together.”

i made my final decision. i would free myself, free my wife, and free my daughter. i would do it without even the threat of violence. i would play the game, use hassan's techniques. i would connect with my wife. not the pseudo-personality created by the cult, but the with the woman i had fallen in love with.

i would return home, strong and secure. over time, i would be able to help my wife reconnect with her passion, her true self. i would make everyone believe that i was fully invested in the program. i would use the fact that i was indispensable to the organization to hold them at bay. i would wait for my moment.

i spent the rest of my week in the mountains preparing myself. i spent the better part of my days transforming my mind and body. i ran, walked, exercised, and lifted heavy rocks. i developed a deep tan. i wrote in my journal. i cleared my mind of the poison. i reviewed my life, my dreams, my achievements.

at the end of the week, i awoke at sunrise. i went for a run and reviewed my plan. i had made a decision to be on guard against fearful thoughts, mainly the fear that bob would win. i took a hike into the mountains. i realized i hadn’t heard a coyote since my first night out. i returned to the residential facility, took a shower, gathered my belongings, jumped in my red t-bird, and dropped the pedal all the way to the floor.

i pulled over near my house and sat, smoking, thinking, preparing myself to deal with whatever i might face when i returned home. in truth, i didn’t even know if my family would still be there. they could be anywhere in the country at this point.

with full resolve, i pulled into my driveway and into the garage.

i was in excellent physical condition. my mind was clearer than it had been in years. i knew exactly where i was headed.
 
i didn’t know what i would find when i walked into the house.
 
freight train, each car looks the same
and no one knows the gypsy's name
and no one hears his lonely sighs,
there are no blankets where he lies.
lord, in his deepest dreams the gypsy flies,
with sweet melissa ~greg allman