I M Perfect lady

Tag: reporting

  • It knows and Forgives it away!

    Byron Katie, "Loving What Is"

    "I love thanking these men for sacrificing their entire lives to teach our children how not to live – and therefore how to live – if they want to be free.  I tell them that they are the greatest teachers and that their lives are good and needed.  Before I leave, I ask them, "Would you spend the rest of your life in prison if you knew that it would keep one child from having to live what you're living?" And many of these violent men understand, and they just well up with tears like sweet little boys."  Byron Katie

     

    Imagine using your life as an example of what not to do.  I truly do believe that if they are willing to sacrifice their whole lives so we can see a living example of what not to do, it begs us to learn from that.

    Just as Penn State is a living example of how not to react when faced with abuse. It seems that each person who heard or saw something did the opposite of what needs to be done.  And in doing so has shown us a great example of a huge institution and how one man has the power to taint it all.

    The opportunities of people stopping him are incredible…big guys, powerful guys, guys with clout and intelligence, and all let this pedophile continue to hurt little boys.

    What a shining example of how we deal with sexual abuse.  WE don't.

    If only this was a Penn State problem, but it is a world wide epidemic.  Look at the students RIOTING to save a man who didn't tell.  

    We want to save a reputation of a man who didn't tell.  Oh, he told the supervisors, but he didn't draw a hard line and refuse to work in an organization who protected pedophiles.  He didn't of himself go to the law of the land and say, "this is going on".

    And as Jon Stewart says, "We are not trying to take away your football" or in the FALC's case, your religion…WE just want the ABUSE to STOP!!!  

    Let's use this as an example and begin walking one by one to the sheriff with what you know, names you have heard, tales of horror being done to the children.  I know, IF I know, you know.  

    You know and you will either be an example of doing nothing or doing something…the choice is yours to decide.

    Sadly, It isn't that no one knows…it is that they know, it is just that they too decided to do nothing for reasons personal to them.  

    The church is not what you all think it is…it isn't this pure state of faith, this island in the storm of evil of life, it is the vortex of sexual abuse, that has a bigger tool than Penn State, It has the Forgiveness of sins.  IT knows and Forgives it away! 

     

     

  • Freedom isn’t gained by doing Nothing.

    We do not err because truth is difficult to see. It is
    visible at a glance. We err because this is more comfortable.     ~Alexander
    Solzhenitsyn

    While I have known that it takes folks with great courage
    to speak out, I didn’t realize ALL can see, but only a few will give up their
    comfortable seat and do so.

    It isn’t that they can’t see, IT is because they don’t want
    to be uncomfortable.

    Isn’t that odd? We see the truth, but err in acting so not to be uncomfortable.

    We don’t want to experience perhaps the rage or dislike
    another may send our way, if we dare to mention the unmentionables.

    The truth sits there in its uncomfortable glory, shining
    forth and many will glance away so they will not feel uncomfortable.

    What happens when a few good folk don’t want to feel
    uncomfortable? What do you all believe happens to the pedophiles, while you are choosing comfort over speaking out?

    As I wrote on my brother’s blog, “It takes great courage
    to 'tell the authorities' but if you don't, your truth and words get stuck in a loop within the structure of abuse. You are the one who needs to bust out and speak their names. Until then your silence cements the structure in place, the bars on the cage    .” www.messyguru.typepad.com

    Do the people sitting in their ‘comfortable’ spot really
    know what they are doing by not speaking out and feeling uncomfortable?

    I see it as either you are relaxing in the cage with the
    abusers or you are outside of the cage speaking out. To me neither seems comfortable, but only one is constructive or actively shutting down the cycle of abuse.

    Even if you only have hearsay and you are keeping that
    quiet, you have no idea which part of the puzzle piece you carry, which part of the big machine you are keeping in place.

    Each of us holds part of the cage together, and if one by
    one we start speaking out, the cage begins to fall apart.

    All it takes to get the ball rolling and to open the cage
    and let the flood of victims come forth is one voice. One voice will carry the others forth.

    The word has to get out that it is okay and normal to feel fear and terror as you break the silence, as you rattle the cage of abuse…It is the only way it will end.

    Someone has to bend the bars of silence by talking to the
    authorities.

    The reporting voices are the heroes and the heroines. They walked in fear and terror, but take the step anyway.

    They speak of fathers, brothers, grandfathers, uncles,
    neighbors and friends. They share their stories of abuse…letting go of the shame and guilt, ridding them of the load they carry.

    They are willing to be uncomfortable to save a child from following in their footprints. Until and unless the abuser’s names are brought to the authorities, abuse will continue forth.

    Silence locks the cage.

    What I still find hard to believe is that it is more comfortable in a cage with a monster…than it is to leave and break the silence, yet I do understand.

    We get comfortable or numb to the fear we know…and are more
    frightened of a new fear.

    However, this new fear and terror of speaking out will free you from the cage of abuse…it is the only way out is doing what makes you uncomfortable.

    Freedom isn’t gained by doing nothing.

     

  • Who Knew and Turned Away.

    The evidence report adds credence to my journey, it gives supporting evidence, names, locations, and sets the tone or energy of what I felt towards my father.   It takes this inner feeling that I had and makes it public knowledge.

    This public knowledge sits so heavily upon me, for years I watched and waited for a reaction that would tell me that others seen my father as Not Normal, yet he was always treated normally, so my feelings that he wasn’t right went unsubstantiated. 

    I had to look up Unsubstantiated.

    1.             Unsubstantiated means, unverified: not proven factually.

    Synonyms: unconfirmed, unproven, unsupported, uncorroborated

    The greatest tragedy is that I waited for an adult or any person to verify that what I felt about my father was true.  That my terror feelings were spot on, and yet no one led on to what they knew or suspected.

    I was left alone unsupported with this knowledge and my body refused to let go of.

    I am thinking what is a deeper wound than the abuse itself is to then have your feelings of the event go unconfirmed.

    No one wanted to corroborate what I had experienced and what fills my body with incredulousness is that I now have facts, verifiable facts, and supported data showing that they knew, but kept this information from me. 

    When I need an adult the most, they failed to support me.

    Here is what I read yesterday…

    “Jenich spoke with Marvin Heinonen, retired Houghton County Protective Services Manager.  Marvin informed myself that indeed Ray Huhta has been under suspicion for at least THIRTY years for sexual assaulting his own children and most of the young girls in the Saint Mary’s Location neighborhood north of Hancock.”

    (a paragraph has info on a victim, so I am excluding it)

    “Marvin Heinonen said back then and even into the later years when Ray Huhta was suspected of molesting girls, there seemed to be a cover up all the time, meaning people in the church and family members would not believe that Ray Huhta could be doing this.  Marvin said the information kept resurfacing for years that Ray Huhta is a pedophile, molesting his girls…”

    One victim wrote in her statement about her family contacting Peter Torola of the Apostolic Luthern Church that she was molested by Ray Huhta. She recalls Torola’s response to her, “What is your motive in telling on Ray Huhta?”  She also stated that three more victims approached minister Pete Torola after she left the area and nothing was done.

    Another victim said her parents confronted Ray and he denied the whole time, from that point on her family’s children were forbidden to go to the Huhta house.

    What was more horrifying to learn so many years ago, was not only did I have to find peace with having a pedophile for a father, but I also learned that so many knew and did nothing.  That 30 years ago he was suspected and the girls told to stay away…

    And some knew 40 years back and at the time wanted to know the ‘motive’ for telling on Ray. Telling on Ray.  Really?

    Imagine that?  Like we are gossips?… And how telling is it that Pete Torola didn’t disbelieve it, he just wondered about the motive for telling.

    Perhaps he had a motive to keep it silent…for a child’s only motive is for you all to see what we see, for you to change your ‘normal’ definition to not normal.

    I guess I wasn’t prepared to hear the details of the little girls, and had braced myself,  but I hadn’t expected the stories held bits and pieces of how uninterested the adults were about the children in the Huhta house.

    I am not meaning to lessen the girls in my neighborhood who were abused by my father, but what stands out is that their parents warned them away from our home, but no one came and took us out.

    I have six sisters…plus eight brothers, and we lived with the Pedophile and his wife. That was our only home.

    We were left there knowingly.

    Somehow, I would feel slightly better if no one knew…if we had gone underneath the radar, an incest nest undetected, but instead it was operating in full plain view and many just turned their heads away from the Huhta children living within.

    What does a person do with this information?

    How do your process the minister’s neglect or Protective Services suspecting but without follow through or neighbors keeping their children away with no heed to us living full time with a ‘suspected’ pedophile. 

    Surely these are actions of an enemy and not of a friend.

    I am not bitter or angry, but I am wise and now validated, vindicated…but it is a hollow victory.

    You find out no one was standing for you…you never mattered enough.

    The main reason I am working with Tom Rosemurgy, is I refuse to be one of the adults who knew and turned away…

     

  • Help not Hurt

    “The question is not, “Can you make a difference?” You already do make a difference.  It’s just a matter of what kind of difference you want to make during your life on this planet.”  Julia Butterfly Hill

    I hadn’t considered that we are all making a difference; it just may not be the kind of difference that will impact another’s life in a positive manner.

    For each thing we do or even what we don’t do matters to someone.

    Just how or who it helps is the difference.

    While taking actions to speak the truth about abuse I am making a difference. And what kind of difference it will make in the lives of pedophiles will be different than how it will affect the lives of children.

    In the past my silence made a difference…it allowed my father to continue abusing. 

    Giving my report of my childhood which lacked memories or odd memories standing out, and how my body feared him, helped bring him to the court of the land.

    My viewpoint of him made a difference, albeit 40 years after the crime.  My report validated the little girl’s experience six years ago…together our stories made a difference to each other.

    The Detective shared with me that he honors and truly understands anonymous reports, how it may be hard for victims to stand tall and share their story.  I get it now too.

    My view of anonymous changed. 

    Anonymous reporting of abuse is vastly different than anonymous attacks.  Both make a difference in completely different ways. 

    Anonymously helping feels so much better than anonymously attacking. 

    There is room for anonymous when it’s used to help not hurt.

     

     

  • Yours to decide, always.

    I talked to the Detective today and it was very enlightening.

    He is willing to help us help the children by giving us information that will educate us of the process. We know what abuse is, but not all levels and kinds, but we we want to stop it, but we don't know how to stop it… who to report, how to report or what to report. What is applicable, what is not, what is too old etc. 

    His focus is the victims and wants all to know that no matter if you want to report anonymously or not, he welcomes your story. 

    He and I both feel that the beginning of the healing process is to speak out, no matter how long ago your abuse happened, it will break the bond of silence.  He needs your help to help the children.

    His job is to separate the abusers from the children and in order to do this he must have courageous victims willing to share their experiences.

    What I believe most victims feel is that they will be met with the same kinds of disbelief or non-action that they have met thus far.  However, talking to him showed me that they listen and not only listen but they believe in you.

    In just telling your story you will feel so much better. 

    Tom Rosemurgy is willing to take your calls, to answer your emails or receive your letters.

    What I want most is for you who have been abused to have access to someone who will hear you.

    trosemurgy@houghtonsheriff.com  Is his email address.

    Or you can write him at,

     403 Houghton Ave.  

    Houghton MI 49931

    You don’t’ have to leave your name, but please leave your story.  You have been carrying it too long; it is time to let it down, to hand it over to someone who can carry it for you.

    Your power is regained in your voice.

    I am here and will help anyone who has a story to tell.

    The truth needs to come forth, for while it is kept quiet there are children in danger.

    I know our voices will make a difference in the life of some child.

    I send you courage and strength…I cheer you on as you wrestle with the decision to speak now or remain silent, and the choice is yours to decide, always.

     

     

  • I blame you too.

    In the past two weeks, I have been trying to glean the attention of the Detective in order to pass on suspicious names, names we keep hearing repeatedly from different circles all having to do with criminal sexual abuse with children. Names being spoken in three states, and ‘rumors’ that have been passed around within the inner circles of the FALC, but haven’t made it to the outside.

    I am on the outside and willing to share what I have been hearing and would like to encourage others to join my voice.

    What keeps these pedophile machines working is our silence.

    If you have memories or odd memories or have feelings that directly oppose the image being presented, that is a flag. 

    We fail to understand that we don’t have to have a succinct blow-by-blow account of an abuse interaction, but instead we each add our portion of evidence to build the case.

    My evidence against my father was the fear and terror that cursed through me in his presence, as well as no memories of my childhood, or just the odd ones. 

    My father did nothing, unless it included little girls.  He wasn’t taking my brothers on ‘special car’ rides.  He who did nothing in the house to help out, began wanting to make Sunday dinners, when granddaughter’s were born….  He who never went to church or even acted within the confines of their rules, Used the Forgiveness of sins to keep erasing his ‘sins’ of abuse. 

    All those things had a theme and makes sense for a pedophile, but goes against his otherwise behavior.  He never was a family man, making plans, being involved, nor did he take my mother on dates, but little girls…he paid attention to.

    That is a Huge Flag. 

    The Greek Definition of Pedophile is Child Friendship. 

    If you see an adult man or woman who is having exclusive, or almost exclusive and exhaustive efforts for one particular sex or age group, your antennas should be rising.

    We fail to look for the grooming process, the charismatic and excited engagement with children as well as seeing the changes in the child.

    Mostly, I thought you needed child’s behavior to be suspicious, but the authorities can work this backwards as well, by being alerted to odd behaviors in adults.

    What I also came to find out is that my mother’s friends were married to pedophiles as well.  It truly does seem that birds of a feather flock together.  

    Here is another thing, I did not hear of other pedophiles, for I was the one of the ones they were talking about.  I was clueless to the signs for I was the sign. 

    I was the walking billboard.  I had all the earmarks needed to show what a child who has been abused looks like, acts like and is.

    There seems to be two drastically different behaviors exhibited; one that you are a people pleaser, a self less person, you are the co-dependents dream come true…you can’t make a decision unless others agree, you live for them or for approval outside you never have an opinion outside of the group. I have said, “I was a whore for love and peace…” their love and their peace, no matter the cost to my self.

    And the other is promiscuous behavior.  Willing to be self less as well, but with your body in sexual ways.  Having zero boundaries or respect for your own self.  Casual sex…sex without loving committed friendship and honor.

    I was a member of the FALC, I was born into the religion, my mother is a devote member and I presumed since my father wasn’t one (unless he needed to get blessed and get the the anger to dialed back..), we were an oddity.  Our family was a rare one within the church.

    However, I am now finding out even if our bloodlines and lineage is has no history within the FALC, we were not the exception as much as the rule.

    I suppose there are a few folks in there, who have never heard of any abuse within, but in my experience, I haven’t met one yet. Although, to be fair, I haven’t talked to them all, but the lineage of abuse is appalling.

    And here is what I know for sure. The only way this can continue is with the silence of many. 

    The greatest threat to pedophiles is for our voices to unite, for our stories to join together to form piles of evidence that will equal the volumes of wounded children.

    If you can’t speak from personal experience, you can speak of what you heard about someone.

    In my case, the detective couldn’t believe the amount of people who knew. Yet only one had the courage to speak. And that one voice alerted us all to a pedophile in our midst.

    I am asking for you to reveal suspicious behavior…not just a blow by blow account.  I am asking you to stop playing in the rumor mill, but be the one to take the information out and bring it to the authorities.

    Here is the addresses where your letters can be written for people in the Copper Country.  You will notice the fact that I am skipping the State Police, for the detective there is a member of the FALC.  It is my personal opinion and choice to leave it out.  I also left off the Keweenaw County Sheriff for he too is a member of the FALC.

    Houghton County Prosecutor

    Michael Makinen – Phone # 906-482-3211

    401 East Houghton Ave.

    Houghton, MI 49931

     

    Houghton County Sheriff  Brian McLean   

    Detective Tom Rosemurgy – Phone # 906-482-0055 (for both)

    403 East Houghton Ave.

    Houghton, MI 49931

     

    FBI – Detroit Field Office

    Phone # 313-965-2323

    477 Michigan Ave. 26th Floor

    Detroit MI, 48226

     

    It is my hope, that our generation will be the one that speaks out and breaks the chain.  It is beyond what the mind can hold, that a religion is shielding criminal sexual abuse.  And it will not stop due to our “not” talking out about it.  Believe me, I only wished it was just my family, that we were the exception not the rule, but also believe me people, it is running unchecked into this generation of little ones…they are us, they are taking the first footsteps in abuse, and we are the adults now to end it.

    I have heard from families who were told, “not to go near my house/father”….that was they way they dealt, just stay away. 

    Well, them staying away, the good people staying away, gave my father unlimited and unfettered access to all the little girls.  Adults too afraid to speak up to afraid to do anything left the little girls to deal with my father…and they did, they gave their little spirits and souls to a man who ate them up. 

    No adult took what they knew to the authorities.

    Many want to just blame my father, but if you knew, I blame you too.

     

     

     

  • One Person to say his name.

    Julia Cameron asks at the end of last chapter, “Did you do your artist date this week?  Did you use it to take any risks? What did you do?  How did it feel?”

    So, I thought what do I fear the most…what do I feel is a risk?

    And what came was looking into the File of My father’s at the Houghton County Courthouse.

    I had pictured this file filled with evidence, victim’s stories, horrific re-counting of their interactions with my father.  A box filled with the demons of his life, an ugly box heaped with things I truly didn’t want to know, his secret life was tucked inside…all the dirt the detective had dug up.  How he traveled from Texas to here, the he said, she said type stuff. 

    I thought I would come face to face with secrets finally brought to the open by my little friends…I would read about, my sisters and their friends, and the truth would be laid bare for me.

    I had to take the risk that I was strong enough.

    This morning when I read that sentence, I decided after work, I would go…stepping through my fear and open that file/box and sort through and face the demons of my childhood.

    I called ahead, so it would be waiting for me.   A file for one. 

    As I parked in front and walked up the steps, I held the railing I knew my father held as he walked down a free man …one of the last things he touched in his hometown before he left for Texas in May of 2005.

    I shook my head to keep me in the present…and kept following my moving feet, bringing me closer to what I had feared these last six years…all the stories of the little girls who suffered because of this one man, my father.

    I entered a room with two smiling normal looking ladies… and asked to see my father’s file. 

    There on the table sat this bright yellow file folder, thin, wimpy, absent of all horrific stories, folder.  It held legal documents and signatures, formalities that had odd titles.

    The paper my brother signed when he paid his bail, the check for most of it being refunded back…he didn't lose too much.

    I asked is this it? 

    And they asked, “what are you looking for?”

    I told them, six years ago when he was being tried, our stories, the victim’s stories were being passed around. The defense attorney had them, the prosecutor had them, and my brother had them, my mother had them…and now I wanted to see them. 

    I explained, at the time, I was too weak to take them in, but now I am feeling braver and want to see what they all read and knew about us victims. Where is the evidence, the story about why he was in court,  and that these papers didn't say too much? It was the glossy version.

    The kind ladies tried to show me the pertinent documents, what he was convicted on, what the plea bargain was, etc. 

     I said this file doesn’t hold the evidence… just the papers for the court.

    As I was leaving, feeling like I had gotten to just read the footnotes of his story, I bumped into the secretary of the prosecutor…a girl I know. 

    She said that perhaps the next time she is in the attic, she would look and see if there is more to his story in their files…but it was a long time ago.  Not that long I said, only six years.  To me it could have been yesterday.  She too was kind and seemed like she wanted to help…but didn't have what I was looking for. 

    She also suggested I go next door to the sheriff’s office and see the detective, perhaps he can find the file with the victims stories…the evidence. 

    So, I made the short walk and asked to see the detective.   He was out on the road, so I could leave my name and number and the reason I needed to see him.

    I told the sheriff, I wanted to see my father’s file, the evidence of his pedophile ways, to read about what they found in order to bring him to trial.  He too asked, why?

    I said I wanted to read the stories that were passed around like a newspapers back then, but I had been too afraid to read, that I was braver today.

    He smiled.  What none of them know, is that in the 'evidence' is a story of my rape, recounted by my childhood friend.  A memory, that I failed to record…that I was feeling brave enough to read about. 

    It was my victim story I wanted to see…Now that I am brave enough, made the trip, walked up the steps, opened the door…maybe I will not ever get to see that story, but what I did was face my ultimate fear. 

    We chatted, about how the system is so backwards, how families are able to sentence the pedophiles, and how their charges are reduced due to parents not wanting their children on the stand facing the man who hurt them….  We both agreed that it is so backwards that a child has to be the strong one, to stand against not only the one who hurt them, but the folks who all are connected to him.

    I stood on one side of the counter and him on the other, both of us on the same side of this issue, neither one of us able to make a difference. 

    I said I would like to talk to the detective, to give him names that I have heard, of other guys like my father, but that I didn’t have much more than that, just names that keep coming up, folks keep talking about them, but nothing seems to happen. 

    I said I wanted to give him them names so I didn’t have to carry them.

    I said to leave lots of time, for I am long winded when it comes to talks of this nature.

    He seemed kind and listened and took my name.  I will see if the detective will be willing to talk to one of the girls whose letter is in the illusive evidence file…

    I feel I could work with them and shed light from this side of the counter, the family side…the little girl side, the victim side.

    I faced my fears, I took a risk and I feel that I am stronger because of it.

    It wasn’t a usual Artist Date, but one that brought me confidence and empowerment.

    It opened the doorway to a full circle moment.  I can be the ‘stranger’ that reported ‘something’ isn’t right in that family….  I can be the one who spoke up, who brought it to the attention of the authorities…to allow some one like me who is waiting for someone to notice, someone to care enough, to be brave and step out and take a risk, point a finger at the source of so many rumors. 

    I can’t know if my speaking will begin to shake the family tree, but I can know that my silence will keep their secrets secret.

    What I don’t want to have happen is for me to be one of the folks who knew and did nothing. 

    I have had these names of the guys, but I thought I needed the names of a child who is appearing to act like they have suffered abuse. But now I know, you can report the names of guys/girls who you have heard part take in abusive behavior, you don’t need a child to start the ball rolling, a child is waiting for you to push it down the hill…

    I also believe a child will intuitively feel that real help has arrived, that they are safe to share their story.

    But, we…the adults in the world have to brave enough to speak their names out loud and to the authorities.

    If you have names, but are not brave enough, share them with me, I will take the names from you so you too no longer have to carry them.

    Carrying their names is carrying their secret.

    And while carrying their secret a child suffers alone waiting. 

    Waiting for some one to notice.

    Someone to see the monster they have experienced. 

    All it takes is one…one person to say his name.

     

     

  • Valley of Evil

    Reporting – is to tell about what happened: to give information about something that has happened, an account or statement describing in detail an event, situation, or the like, usually as the result of observation, inquiry, etc

    How well do you report your life? What is your observation deck, is it the mind or can you step back and witness the whole scene and see your part in the mix of the whole?
    Can you report from your inner view and share all the details, or do you gloss over the rough spots and expand on the lighter moments.

    Are you an in depth reporter and can you speak your own truths, do you even know your own details? Do you dare become an investigating reporter in your own life?

    It seems we are more comfortable in the valley between both truths, yours and mine.
    A place where life is lived on the thin surface, where feelings are not shown and reported, where no hard questions are asked or expected, where details are of weather, dress and food…the space where life isn’t happening.

    What I find so interesting is that the truths from both sides fly over this valley are heard but not believed, are seen but overlooked, are felt but quickly numbed, it is the place where truths are not held and they quickly are ignored.

    No one expects you to hold on to reality in the valley, it will ruin many a pretend relationship if you do so.

    The perceptions from here are very distorted and absent of truthful facts, a report that leaves out the most pertinent information for the goal of the valley is to be kind and loving…at all costs, even if means leaving reality behind.

    At times it seems that I am living in a dual world, where people speak a totally different language than I and that I can see and hear what others blatantly overlook, it is like I am a reporter of reality and they are reporters from the valley’s floor where they don’t hold on to facts as being real.

    My mother had said we have two perceptions and she was totally right, in her world truths were known but not held, they were looked at quickly but not dwelled upon, so life could return as quickly as possible back to ‘normal’.

    My perception is much different, I report differently, I see things and hear things that I do not disregard.

    The meaning of the word Perception.

    Perceptions -perceiving: the process of using the senses to acquire information about the surrounding environment or situation result of perceiving: the result of the process of perception impression: an attitude or understanding based on what is observed or thought.

    Interesting to know that perception comes from the process of using the senses.

    Using your senses…but what happens if you are detached and disconnected from your feelings, then what? What will you then use to guide your peceptions or how right on can they be?

    It is interesting to know that we all percieve the world based upon our connection to our own inner sense of self.

    The further from your self you are, the further off base is your perception. And to me, the more you disregard your truths, the further from self you go and the more off base are your perceptions and more you out of line with reality you go and deeper into the valley of pretend.

    I was a residence of this valley for 46 years while living in reality, I had no clue that my perceptions at that time were distorted, that they did not match reality, but instead fit perfectly with the image in my head.

    When the image in my head exploded it left me standing in the valley of pretend but aware…aware of how off my perceptions had been.

    I was aware of all the distortions, all the false images, it was like waking up in a nightmare, where all the good became evil and the evil good…where truths became my friends instead of my enemies.

    All the things that were kept hidden were revealed, to see the old sins resurface unharmed, truth flooded into the valley in my mind, there was no place to hide.
    I was flooded with awareness of how unaware I was.

    The view of the valley of looks very different standing on mountains of truth, it looked like the valley of evil.