Journal: April 20, 2022

We’ve been pretty stable these past months.   The young one’s have been getting to know our therapist and are very fond of her.  Because of their relationship with the therapist we’ve become aware that they didn’t have any toys.  We picked them up a couple small things and let them color with our colored pencils.  The young ones still struggle with the why of their abuse and a huge range of emotions they don’t understand.   And, if they did understand them they aren’t able to put words to them.  The young ones also are confused as to why sexual abuse is so prolific in our world as to be normal.  Because of this, the young ones are kept hidden from the world, kept safe deep inside us.

It has occurred to us that this may be a past life issue.  We believe we are a soul that lives life after life reincarnating in an attempt to process and heal traumas experienced in each incarnation.  The purpose of this is to evolve to the point that we can return home to the Source of All That Is.   The being many call God.  We have begun to work with Brain Spotting in a past life application.  It is our hope that Brain Spotting can help us heal this anger.  We are so angry at our desecration.  We were young, innocent.  How can young children be appealing for sexual pleasure?  In what sick twisted way can a man think that a young child who trusts and knows nothing about sex is appropriate to have sex with?

The day we had scheduled for our therapy appointment we had technical issues with our laptop.  Specifically, we couldn’t get our web cam to work.  As our therapist lives in Boulder we telecommute over the internet.  In hindsight we shouldn’t have been surprised, energetically we often experience difficulties with electricity and technology when high intensity soul impacting work is happening.  While talking with our therapist about the technical issues we felt our awareness slipping.

We became aware of being in a gold room.  It is dark and hot from the brazier close to our skin, it almost burns us.  The air is thick with incense and the stink of smoke, death, and sweat.  In the distance, we can hear the screams and cries of the other priests in the temple.  We are crying silently, tears run down our face.

We are looking at the walls, they are gold and painted with hieroglyphs.  The man is on top of us, holding us down by the shoulders.  Beside and behind us, lying dead like a beached whale is the petitioner we were in ritual with.  We are painted gold, the man desecrating us gets up off of us.  He is smeared with gold paint and blood.  Another man leans against the door way watching, snearing.  He wears a loin cloth and holds a spear

In the present we are aware that we were a Priestess of Bast in the midst of a sacred sex ritual when the temple was attacked.  We were raped lying in the blood of the petitioner we were engaged in sacred sex with.  After the violation and desecration of our body and Bast’s temple, we and the survivors were made slaves.  We walked a long way, days through the desert to the jungle home of our attackers.    There is a strong sense of vindication, the attackers could desecrate our temple and yet it stands.  The temple refuses to collapse to the structural damage the attackers did.  The air in the jungle is so cold compared to our dry desert home in northern Egypt.  We died there in the jungle after the death of an elderly friend, a sister slave.  We were so tired of living.  Rape and beatings were a daily thing.  We were beaten to death.  We chose to die.  We chose that death over the endless life of abuse we had.

In the week since our appointment where this past life was revealed we’ve been quietly processing.  It has taken this long for our words to percolate to awareness.  We’ve been out of medicine which has helped create some cognitive fog in our daily life.  And with it, some chaos in our work life.

At first it seems that there is a big difference between a lifetime where we were a priest in a sacred sex act and this lifetime where we were violated as a preverbal child.  The common thread is an utter feeling of desecration.  We were involved in holy sacrament when the sacred act (sex) was used against us.  We were desecrated in body, mind, and spirit.  We felt so lost and separated from our god that we could never feel her presence again.  Our violators didn’t understand or care that there is a difference between rape and sacred sexuality.  The general attitude was that we were slaves and should just get used to it, be used to it.  That refrain echoes in our brain and matches the societal view that we the desecrated should be used to it.  It hurts us, leaves us sad, wounded.  This is the emotion that the young ones cannot understand.

In this lifetime, desecrated as an innocent.  In that lifetime, desecrated as a priest.  The priest has a strong sense of innocence lost.  In this lifetime, some of our parts are cynical – how can you consider yourself, the priest, as having experienced a loss of innocence?     Our answer is that the cynicism doesn’t change the fact of the feeling, the realness of the feeling.  Being aware, awake to it at last, is part of the healing.  We haven’t begun to deal with the anger yet.  Just being aware and awake to the past life has eased the intensity of the wounding in the present life.  There is work yet to do.  We are curious as to how the therapist is going to proceed.  Last session as about drawing forth the past life.  Next session is where we begin to work with what the past life has drawn forward.

Published by larkinthedark

In the 1990's I was diagnosed with Fractured Personality Disorder. I successfully integrated. Earlier this year (2019) a series of events have me dealing with dissociated states again. Fractured Personality Disorder is now called Dissociative Identity Disorder.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: