I overwhelmed yet another researcher.
Or maybe I'm just too far gone to deserve the time of day. It's like I burn through researchers the way a chain smoker goes through a pack of cigarettes. I try very hard to be careful, to respect their boundaries as they have. But they ask questions - do I lie? What good would it do anybody if I lied, no matter how fantastic the story?
She asked. I answered: the things in the blog so far, a lot of them are the result of her questions. She finally told me she was overwhelmed and had to back off for a while.
Of course I apologized: immediately riddled with guilt as I was. What else could I do? And she said it wasn't me. There were the usual stress factors researchers hit when going into this material. But... so many before her. Dozens. And not just researchers. There was an article writer in England who decided I was "full of shit" because I made the mistake of telling her the tale of how the Western Indians thought their clocks would burn up when the railroad first implemented the time zones and seasonal hour changes. There was a backstabbing story thief who didn't believe ghosts run from me until she put me into a test situation (without telling me) and watched it happen. The specialist with MKultra "victims" who stopped speaking to me because I don't want to suddenly enter some deprogramming Christian agenda without knowing for myself what's really going on. The people who told me I lied about my ex-husband cheating on me, giving me my first black eye, or that my step daughter was being sexually abused by her stepfather and stepuncle.
I guess I just have that kind of face. With "liar" burned permanently across my brow.
Now, I don't know if Researcher will remain in contact me on a friendly level at the very least. She may or she may not. She has dropped off the radar right now because of deadlines and important matters to attend to. And I sit here hitting silent panic attacks all the day long.
Researchers casually say between themselves about how one resource is exhausted and they should break contact this or cut ties that. It's almost as if we, the sources, aren't real people on some levels. We bare our souls to them. For a lot of people the things they reveal about their "other life" comes under a great matter of trust.
And I'm always annoyed and disgusted that the people get tossed aside like pressed fruit. As a matter of fact, I've never gotten a single thank you for my trust in all these years. It's so that I'd never recommend going to a researcher for anything.
But Researcher I wouldn't lump in the user category, just the overwhelmed one.The one I place people when I realize I must always keep my wings partially tucked for the sake of their health and well-being. There are a lot of people in that mental category. I don't speak to most of them anymore by their own choice. I hope I'm not losing another friend. Even if we never spoke about this sort of stuff again; I just hate losing a friend.
I already stand to lose so much more I treasure right now. Just. Meh.
Remembering about Dad's involvement in the psychic programs got me curious, so I looked up Mt. St. Helen's. I had always thought it exploded back in the 60's, but I was wrong. It blew in spring of 1980.
Which means I was about 8 or 9 when he quit the program. And I have to wonder just how long he was in it... being as the programs all claim to have been decommissioned in the 70's. Or so I've read.
Or maybe I'm just too far gone to deserve the time of day. It's like I burn through researchers the way a chain smoker goes through a pack of cigarettes. I try very hard to be careful, to respect their boundaries as they have. But they ask questions - do I lie? What good would it do anybody if I lied, no matter how fantastic the story?
She asked. I answered: the things in the blog so far, a lot of them are the result of her questions. She finally told me she was overwhelmed and had to back off for a while.
Of course I apologized: immediately riddled with guilt as I was. What else could I do? And she said it wasn't me. There were the usual stress factors researchers hit when going into this material. But... so many before her. Dozens. And not just researchers. There was an article writer in England who decided I was "full of shit" because I made the mistake of telling her the tale of how the Western Indians thought their clocks would burn up when the railroad first implemented the time zones and seasonal hour changes. There was a backstabbing story thief who didn't believe ghosts run from me until she put me into a test situation (without telling me) and watched it happen. The specialist with MKultra "victims" who stopped speaking to me because I don't want to suddenly enter some deprogramming Christian agenda without knowing for myself what's really going on. The people who told me I lied about my ex-husband cheating on me, giving me my first black eye, or that my step daughter was being sexually abused by her stepfather and stepuncle.
I guess I just have that kind of face. With "liar" burned permanently across my brow.
Now, I don't know if Researcher will remain in contact me on a friendly level at the very least. She may or she may not. She has dropped off the radar right now because of deadlines and important matters to attend to. And I sit here hitting silent panic attacks all the day long.
Researchers casually say between themselves about how one resource is exhausted and they should break contact this or cut ties that. It's almost as if we, the sources, aren't real people on some levels. We bare our souls to them. For a lot of people the things they reveal about their "other life" comes under a great matter of trust.
And I'm always annoyed and disgusted that the people get tossed aside like pressed fruit. As a matter of fact, I've never gotten a single thank you for my trust in all these years. It's so that I'd never recommend going to a researcher for anything.
But Researcher I wouldn't lump in the user category, just the overwhelmed one.The one I place people when I realize I must always keep my wings partially tucked for the sake of their health and well-being. There are a lot of people in that mental category. I don't speak to most of them anymore by their own choice. I hope I'm not losing another friend. Even if we never spoke about this sort of stuff again; I just hate losing a friend.
I already stand to lose so much more I treasure right now. Just. Meh.
Remembering about Dad's involvement in the psychic programs got me curious, so I looked up Mt. St. Helen's. I had always thought it exploded back in the 60's, but I was wrong. It blew in spring of 1980.
Which means I was about 8 or 9 when he quit the program. And I have to wonder just how long he was in it... being as the programs all claim to have been decommissioned in the 70's. Or so I've read.
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